The cold night air whipped against Cassiopeia's cloak as she stood at the edge of the enchantments surrounding Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Her sharp eyes scanned the blank space, her breath fogging the air. A subtle hum vibrated through the atmosphere, almost as if the house itself recognized her presence. Slowly, the crooked outlines of Grimmauld Place began to materialize between the neighboring houses, as if grudgingly acknowledging its heiress. Cassiopeia tilted her head slightly, her classic smirk forming

"Finally," she murmured, 

The frost-covered pavement crunched beneath her boots as she approached the rusted, wrought-iron gate. With a flick of her wand, the gate creaked open, the sound echoing through the quiet, shadowy street.

Kreacher appeared with a crack, his bulbous eyes gleaming "Mistress, let me—" he croaked, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the ground.

"It's fine, Kreacher," she said smiling "But would you be a darling and prepare for my arrival? You know... the Black style."

"As you command, Mistress Black," Kreacher rasped, his voice trembling with devotion. With another crack, he was gone.

Cassiopeia lingered, taking in the sight of the house as it loomed before her. Dark windows stared back like hollow eyes,. The house seemed almost alive, 

The heavy door creaked as she pushed it open, the ancient hinges groaning in protest. A chill swept through the entrance hall as she stepped inside, her dark cloak billowing behind her. The air smelled of dust, mildew, and faintly of something acrid, Shadows danced across the walls, flickering as though the house itself stirred to life. Her gaze landed on the moth-eaten curtains covering the infamous Black family portrait. A scowl tugged at her lips.

"How dare that brat," she murmured to herself, brushing a gloved hand over the frayed fabric before yanking the curtains aside with a sharp tug.

The furious face of Walburga Black burst into view, her voice immediately screeching. "Who dares disturb me—you filthy blood tr—"

"Grandmother," Cassiopeia interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through Walburga's tirade effortlessly- Her expression shifted into an elegant smile, her posture straightening. She stepped back slightly, offering a shallow bow.

"Cassiopeia Black," she introduced herself, her voice calm . "Daughter of Valerie Flint and..." Her lips curled in disdain as she paused, "Unfortunately, Sirius Black."

Walburga's wild eyes narrowed, taking in the young woman standing proudly before her. Cassiopeia's appearance was unmistakably Black—

Her long, raven-black hair tumbled down her back in unruly curls, the kind that no charm could entirely tame. A single strand rested rebelliously against her pale cheek, framing sharp, aristocratic features that didn't need to try for attention—it simply demanded it.

Her eyes, striking and cold, were a stormy gray—classic Black—but with a sharper edge, as though they had seen more darkness than even Walburga could fathom. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the dim light

Beneath her cloak she wore a sleek, fitted ensemble of dark leather and rich fabric, practical yet undeniably luxurious.

Strapped firmly to her thigh, partially concealed by the folds of her cloak, was a gleaming dagger. Its polished hilt bore the engraving of a serpent coiled elegantly, while the blade itself caught the flickering candlelight, almost demanding to be noticed—or perhaps warning it was better not to.

Cassiopeia's posture was elegant yet, her chin held high as if she were born to command. Her long fingers rested lightly on her wand,

Walburga couldn't help but feel a twisted satisfaction as she appraised her. Here was someone who wore the Black name not as a burden but as a crown

"I am the current heiress of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black," Cassiopeia continued, her tone dripping with pride. "But I assure you, Grandmother, I am nothing like that disgrace of a father." she spat

For a moment, Walburga's expression faltered, "A Slytherin, I hope?" she demanded sharply, her painted face tilting 

"Of course," Cassie replied smoothly. "Only the best for our family. I associate with only the highest of kind—no riff-raff, no blood traitors."

Walburga's lips twitched into a twisted smile, her expression brightening with cruel joy. "Ah, you remind me of my dear Bella! Such ambition, such pride in our noble heritage. A true Black!"

"I've been told I take after her, Though I'd argue I have far more restraint."

"Good, good!" Walburga exclaimed, her painted face lighting up. "You'll undo the damage he's done, won't you? Sirius—the wretched, ungrateful brat—dragged our name through the mud!"

Cassiopeia's gaze darkened "I intend to restore the House of Black to its rightful glory. Starting with removing any lingering... disappointments."

Walburga let out a loud, barking laugh. "Yes! You'll show them all what it means to be a Black!"

"Indeed," Cassiopeia said silkily, stepping back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Grandmother, I must greet the wretched Muggle lover squatting in this house."

Walburga let out a howl of laughter, her voice shrill and echoing. "Go, my darling! Show him what a true Black is capable of!"

Cassiopeia smirked, pulling the curtains shut with a snap, muting the laughter. Her boots echoed ominously as she strode toward the dining room, her cloak swishing behind her. From inside, muffled voices rose,

Cassiopeia stopped just outside the door, the faint murmur of voices reaching her ears. She caught the unmistakable tones of the Weasleys—"Mundungus, I told you no smoking at the table!"  along with loud, grating, far too cheerful for her liking. Then came the voice of that  Mudblood Granger, and, finally, Potter himself. Cassie's lips twisted into a scowl- 

"Time for a little show," she muttered under her breath, pushing the door open with a resounding bang, the tails of her cloak billowing dramatically.

The room fell silent.

"Mistress Black," Kreacher's voice croaked reverently, The elf bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor.
"Welcome, Heiress of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Mistress Cassiopeia."

Cassie tilted her head slightly "Why, thank you, Kreacher," she replied effortlessly, slipping off her cloak and handing it to him

Every fork clattered onto plates, every conversation halted. The room had gone deathly quiet, all eyes fixed on her.

"Cassie," Remus murmured softly, a faint, hesitant smile appearing on his face before disappearing just as quickly. His eyes flicked toward Sirius, who sat rigid at the head of the table, looking absolutely furious-

Cassie, ignoring everyone else, tilted her head and strode purposefully toward the head of the table, her boots clicking against the wooden floor, A glint of light caught on the dagger strapped firmly to her thigh, her hand brushing it deliberately 

"What are you—" Sirius spluttered, getting to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. 

"Looks like you're in my seat, Sirius,"

"This is my house," Sirius growled,  his fists clenched on the edge of the table.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow,  "Correction—this is the House of Black. My house, by blood and by title. You're merely a squatter...This seat is for the head of the house Sirius- which need I remind you- is me"

Several gasps echoed around the room. Weasleys exchanged wide-eyed glances. Tonks froze mid-bite, staring at Cassiopeia as though she'd sprouted another head. Harry, seated a few chairs down, glared at her with barely-contained fury, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

"You can't just—" Sirius started, his voice rising.

Cassie interrupted him with a wave of her hand, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Save the screaming matches for after dinner, Sirius. I've had a long day, and I'd rather not lose my appetite."

She glanced toward Kreacher, her tone softening. "Set another place for me, darling. And pour me a drink while you're at it."

Kreacher bowed deeply. "As Mistress commands."

Cassiopeia smirked and slid into the now-vacated chair at the head of the table, She picked up a goblet of firewhiskey, holding it up in a mock toast. "Cheers, everyone. Let's not make this any more awkward than it already is."

She turned her gaze to Lupin. "Cheers, Moony," she said, raising her goblet slightly in his direction.

Lupin's lips twitched, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and mild amusement. Tonks leaned toward him, whispering something, but her eyes remained fixed on Cassiopeia, as though trying to figure her out.

Harry slammed his hands on the table, rising to his feet, his face red with anger. "You don't belong here!" he spat, "This house is headquarters for the Order, and you—"

"I own this place, Potter," Cassiopeia interrupted, her voice turning icy. She swirled the firewhiskey in her goblet before taking a deliberate sip. 

"This is headquarters only because I let Dumbledore use it." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto Harry's, unflinching. "Did he bother to tell you all about the countless letters he sent me? Begging me to join your little rebellion?"

Harry looked stunned for a moment, glancing at the others. Sirius was practically shaking with rage, his knuckles white against the tabletop.

Cassiopeia leaned back in her chair, exhaling dramatically. "Honestly, Potter, you'd think the leader of your little club would be more transparent. But then again, that's Dumbledore for you—always keeping secrets, always pulling the strings."

"Enough," Sirius growled, "You don't get to waltz in here and throw your weight around like you own the place."

Cassie's gaze snapped to him, her smile gone. "Oh, but I do, Sirius. And don't you forget it.

Sirius didn't respond, but the tension in his posture was evident, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. Mrs. Weasley's eyes flicked nervously between them, her concern growing with each passing second. She cleared her throat, her voice strained but firm. "Let's just eat," she said, forcing a shaky smile. "We'll discuss everything later, calmly."

Cassiopeia let out a low, humorless chuckle, "Yes, let's," she drawled, her smirk deepening as her stormy gray eyes locked onto Sirius, who now sat opposite Harry, his jaw clenched tight. "Wouldn't want to upset the fragile harmony of the Order, now would we?"

"Cassie," Remus said warningly,

"Don't worry, Moony," she said breezily, "I'll behave—for now."

Sirius's lips twitched in irritation, but he said nothing, grudgingly stabbing a fork into a roasted potato as though it had personally offended him.

"So, Harry," Arthur said, clearly trying to break the tension, his voice pointedly avoiding Cassiopeia. "How was your summer? Well... apart from the, uh, Dementor thing."

Harry shrugged, "It's been lousy."

For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius's face. "Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

"What?"

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would've broken the monotony nicely," Sirius said,  "You think you've had it bad? At least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights. I've been stuck inside for a month."

"There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix... or so Dumbledore feels," Sirius added, his tone sour.

"At least you've known what's been going on,"

"Oh yeah," Sirius continued sarcastically, "listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleaning's going—"

"Which reminds me why I'm mainly here," Cassiopeia interrupted,

All eyes turned to her. Sirius stiffened, his jaw clenching, but he didn't speak.

"You are not to mess with anything," Cassiopeia said sharply, as she addressed Sirius directly. "The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is not your pet project, and I won't have you desecrating what little remains of its dignity."

Desecrating?" Sirius repeated, his voice rising, "You think I'm the one desecrating this place? That old hag of a mother of mine already did—"

"Not. A. Word. Against Grandmother," Cassiopeia cut in, her voice venomous. The room seemed to hold its breath as her gaze bore into Sirius, silencing him in an instant. "Long story short, bitch, you don't get to remove or replace what you don't own. This house, this legacy, this family—they were never yours to discard. So keep your grubby, unworthy hands off my inheritance."

Sirius bristled, "Your inheritance? Is that what you think this place is? Some grand prize to cling to? Let me tell you something, Cassiopeia —this house is nothing but a tomb, filled with the rot of a family too blind to see its own decay!"

Cassiopeia tilted her head, her smirk returning- "And yet, here you are, living in it. Feeding off it. Hiding in the shadows of its walls. Funny how that works, isn't it? For someone so eager to escape the Black name, you sure seem incapable of surviving without it."

Sirius set down his fork "You think clinging to this house, to this twisted legacy, makes you strong? It makes you a prisoner, Just like it made me once"

Cassiopeia looked in his eyes "The difference between you and me, Sirius, is that I don't run from what I am. I embrace it. I wear the Black name like a crown, while you wear it like a noose."

The room remained deathly silent, 

"We will discuss this calmly, like mature adults, after dinner," Remus said firmly, His gaze locked on Cassiopeia's stormy gray eyes

Cassiopeia said nothing, merely casting him a long, unreadable look before returning to her food, 

"Sirius?" said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid anyattention to this conversation, but had been minutely examining anempty goblet. "This solid silver, mate?" 

"Yes," said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. "Finest fifteenth century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest." 

"That'd come off, though," muttered Mundungus running a grimy thumb over the engraved crest 

"How dare you?" Cassiopeia's voice lashed out like a whip, venomous and sharp, causing Mundungus to startle so badly that the goblet slipped from his hands, clattering noisily against the table.

All eyes turned to her

 "How dare you touch it with your filthy, half-blood hands!" she snarled, her voice dripping with disgust.

Mundungus stammered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to form a coherent response.

"Kreacher!" Cassiopeia barked, and the ancient house-elf appeared in an instant, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed the floor. "Take it away at once. Clean it thoroughly—no, purge it of his filth."

"Yes, Mistress Cassiopeia," Kreacher croaked, snatching up the goblet, his large eyes gleaming with adoration as he backed out of the room.

Cassiopeia's gaze swept over the table, daring anyone to speak. No one did, though Sirius's hand twitched, as though resisting the urge to fling something at her. 

Satisfied, Cassiopeia smoothened her robes with deliberate care. "Honestly," she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, "no respect for heritage or decency these days. Filthy blood traitors"

Mundungus sat frozen, his face pale, while the rest of the table exchanged uneasy glances. Only Sirius looked ready to explode,

"Eat, Sirius," Cassiopeia said, her voice dripping with a sweetness so thick it was almost suffocating. She speared a piece of meat with her fork, eyes glinting as she carefully cut it. "Wouldn't want your food to get cold."

Lupin, who had been trying his best to avoid the storm, suddenly interrupted, his voice a little too casual as if deliberately trying to divert the conversation "Did you contact the goblins yet, Bill?"

Bill hesitated, clearly trying to deflect from the tension between Cassie and Sirius. "They're not giving anything away yet," he said, glancing at the others. "I still can't figure out whether they believe he's back or not. Maybe they'd rather stay neutral, not pick sides."

Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement, shaking his head. "I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who. They've suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham? But they wont support us too-"

Cassie wiped her hands on her napkin,  "It depends on what they're offered," she said, not looking at anyone in particular. "Gold? Please. They've got more of it than anyone. What they really want is what they've never had—freedom. And maybe the secrets of wand-making."

Bill blinked, clearly impressed by her insight. He nodded slowly. "Valid point."

Before anyone could respond, the laughter from the other end of the table exploded, cutting through the conversation. Fred, George, and Ron were in fits of laughter, nearly falling off their chairs, while Mundungus tried, and failed, to regain his composure.

"...And then, if you'll believe it," Mundungus choked, wiping his eyes. "'e says to me, 'Where'd you get all them toads from, Dung? 'Cause some idiot nicked all mine!' And I'm like, 'Nicked all your toads? What next?'" He was shaking with laughter now, completely oblivious to the others. "And then, if you believe it, the stupid gormless idiot buys all 'is toads back from me—for twice the price!"

"I think that's enough of your shady business dealings for one night, Mundungus," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice laced with disappointment. "You've told us enough."

Kreacher shuffled forward, clearing the plate in front of her and carefully keeping the dessert. But Cassiopeia waved him off. "No, thanks, darling. I'm full," she said, sipping from her goblet, the firewhiskey warmth trickling down her throat. She looked around the table, eyes scanning the room, Everyone else was digging into the desserts, 

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs. Weasley yawned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said, pushing his plate away and turning his attention to Harry. "You know, I'm surprised. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to ask about Voldemort."

"I did!" Harry shot back, indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione, but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so..."

"And they're right," Mrs. Weasley cut him off, her tone sharp. "You're too young."

Sirius, without missing a beat, looked at Harry and scoffed. "If she can be here," he said, his gaze lingering on Cassiopeia, "then so can Harry."

Cassiopeia's gaze snapped up at that, her eyes narrowing into cold slits, her grip tightening on the goblet. "I was begged to be here, Sirius, trust me - i have no interest to join your little boyband"

Fred suddenly blurted out, "How come Harry gets his questions answered?" 

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," Sirius replied, shrugging nonchalantly "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand—"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley snapped sharply, cutting him off.

"Of course it is," Sirius said immediately, "Harry's like the child I never had." His voice faltered for a split second, and then he stopped himself mid-sentence, 

The room went completely silent. No one moved. No one even breathed. There was a thick tension, a silence so suffocating  No one dared to even glance at Cassiopeia.

But then, in an instant, the silence shattered as the goblet that was in Cassie's hand cracked and exploded into shards of glass, her hand not so much as twitching at the destruction. A drop of blood welled from her palm, but Cassiopeia didn't even flinch. She just stared at the mess, her face eerily calm.

Kreacher rushed forward, his eyes wide with concern as he looked at the blood trickling down Cassiopeia's hand. "Mistress, Mistress, are you hurt?"

Cassiopeia's expression remained unchanged. She didn't even glance at him. No reply came.

Sirius, his jaw tense, The air between them crackled with things that had been simmering for far too long. Finally, Cassiopeia's voice broke the silence.

"How poetic, Sirius. Truly," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Cassie, don't—" Remus started, but she silenced him with a glare so cold it could freeze the blood in your veins.

"Don't what, Remus?" she mocked, "Speak the truth?" She leaned back in her chair, her shattered goblet forgotten. "It's such a tragedy, isn't it? Sirius Black, the tortured soul, robbed of the family he chose while conveniently forgetting the one he abandoned."
Her eyes bored into Sirius as she continued, her voice venomous. "Go on, Sirius. Enlighten us all. Because clearly, I've been misinformed about my own existence."

Sirius didn't move. His eyes stayed glued to his plate, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth were grinding together. His fists tightened in his lap, but still, he said nothing.

"You don't get to twist my words," 

Cassiopeia let out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "Oh, I think I just did," she replied. "And you know what's truly pathetic? You can't even deny it. You'd rather play the martyr than admit the truth—your so-called 'child you never had' is sitting right in front of you, and you can't even look at me."

Her words stung, more than any spell ever could. It was the truth, and Sirius hated that. But he couldn't bring himself to face her, 

"I didn't mean it like that, Cassie," he muttered, his voice strained. But the words were weak, hollow, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

Cassiopeia's eyes flashed with fury. "What? You didn't mean it? Well, that's just fucking convenient, isn't it?" She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. "So sorry for existing, then. Sorry that I didn't die with my mother, sorry that I wasn't good enough for you to give a damn about!"

Sirius stood as well, his movements sharp and aggressive. "You don't know a damn thing about me!" he barked,

Everyone in the room fell eerily silent, a collective breath held . There was an unspoken understanding between the group—no one dared to interfere. Not this time. They all knew better. As Sirius and Cassiopeia squared off, it was impossible not to notice the striking similarities between them. The rage. The recklessness. The way their bodies bristled with barely contained fury, like two wild animals on the verge of tearing each other apart. The way they stood, almost mirror images of each other—bodies taut, fists clenched, eyes blazing with the same fire. The resemblance was so undeniable it made the air feel heavier, the room even more suffocating.

"I don't know? You left us to rot, Sirius! You chose nothing over us. Over me."

"You think it was easy?" he spat, his words venomous. "You think I just waltzed away from you and your mother without a second thought? You have no idea what I—"

"Then tell me!" Cassiopeia's voice rose, shattering his excuse before it could take form. She stepped closer, her finger pointed at him, "Tell me why you chose to stay away. Tell me why you couldn't be there! Tell me why you chose to run off to James—"

"DON'T BRING JAMES INTO THIS!" Sirius bellowed, slamming his hand down on the table with enough force to rattle the cutlery. The clatter of utensils was drowned by the sheer force of his voice, his face contorted with an anger that bordered on desperation.

Molly stood abruptly, herding the younger Weasleys toward the stairs. "Up to your rooms, now!" she commanded, her voice firm, but it was futile. No one moved, too rooted in the tension of the room to look away.

Cassiopeia sneered, unbothered by his outburst. "Oh, did I touch a nerve?" she asked mockingly, her voice cold as frost. "James Potter. The man you abandoned your family for. The man you'd gladly die for. And yet you couldn't even look back, not once, to see the wreckage you left behind."

Sirius took a step closer, towering over her  "Don't you dare question my loyalty to my friends!" he hissed. "Harry is my godson—"

"And I'm supposed to be your fucking daughter!" Cassiopeia screamed, The room froze, her words echoing 

Sirius flinched as if struck, but his temper surged forward, unchecked. "You're not my daughter," he spat,  "You're a reminder of everything I hated about my past. A reminder of the family I was disowned from—a family of liars, manipulators, and cowards."

Cassiopeia's laugh was sharp, humorless. "Oh, you're right. The 'noble' Sirius Black. Too good for the Black family, too good for me. And yet here you are, clinging to a name that hates you, protecting a boy who isn't even yours, while the one thing that was yours rotted away because of you."

"What do you want from me, Cassie?" Sirius snarled, stepping closer,  "An apology? An explanation? I never asked to be your father! I never asked for any of this! I—"

"You didn't ask, but you got it anyway," Cassiopeia snapped, cutting him off. "And you failed. You abandoned me for a bunch of dead men and a child you're using as a second chance because you're too much of a coward to face the truth."

"You don't know a damn thing about me!" Sirius roared "You don't know what I've lost, what I've sacrificed—"

"And you don't know what it's like to be sacrificed," Cassiopeia retorted,  her eyes boring into his. "To be left behind, discarded like I was nothing. You didn't lose me, Sirius. You gave me away."

Sirius stared at her, his chest heaving, searching for something—anything—to say. But nothing came.

"Yet Potter is like the child you never had-

"I meant it," Sirius snarled cutting her off, He leaned forward, his temper barely restrained, each word laced with venom. "I meant every word. Every. Damn. Word."

Cassiopeia's gaze didn't falter. Her expression, unreadable and unnervingly calm, betrayed no emotion as she took a deliberate step back. The stillness was somehow more unsettling than her rage. Blood dripped from her hand onto the floor, unnoticed by her but not by anyone else.

 No one dared move or speak. The tension was unbearable, as though the entire house had collectively stopped breathing.

Without another word, Cassiopeia turned on her heel and strode out, her footsteps echoing through the dead halls

Sirius stood frozen, his chest rising and falling as the weight of his words sank in. He looked around the room, desperate for... what? Forgiveness? Understanding? But all he found were faces filled with shock, discomfort, and a creeping sense of judgment. His gaze fell on Harry, who looked away, frowning, and then on Remus—who didn't look away.

For the first time, Sirius saw it in his old friend's eyes. Not sympathy. Not understanding. Utter disgust.

"Remus-" Sirius started, his voice faltering. 

"Shut up, Pads," Remus interrupted coldly, his tone more cutting than any shout. He stared at Sirius, "Haven't you ruined enough for one night? Or does it take seeing your own daughter bleed to realize what you've done?"

Sirius froze, his words choking in his throat. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"She's letting us stay here, Sirius," Remus continued, stepping closer
 "Her house. Her rules. And no matter how much you deny it, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise—she's still your daughter"

Remus didn't wait for a response. He turned and followed Cassiopeia, leaving Sirius standing in the guilt of his own words-

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

Remus climbed the stairs, his heart heavy with guilt- as though it was his fault "Cassiopeia?" he called softly into the dim corridor. He barely made it to the landing when Kreacher rushed past, muttering frantically, "All my fault, all my fault..."

"Kreacher," Remus said firmly, stopping the house-elf in his tracks. "Where is Cassiopeia?"

Kreacher turned slowly, his wrinkled face twisted in disgust. "Hasn't the blood-traitor brat done enough damage tonight?" he hissed. "What does the filthy werewolf want with Mistress?"

Remus flinched but pressed on "Please, Kreacher. I just want to help her. I can heal her cuts."

Kreacher glared at him, clutching his own hands as if to steady himself. "Kreacher is more than capable of tending to Mistress," he said, his tone dripping disdain. Then his voice faltered. "But how will Kreacher face Master? Kreacher promised to protect Mistress..."

"Does Pierre know?" Remus asked gently, trying to cut through the elf's distress.

Kreacher blinked, momentarily thrown almost as if he didnt understand, then gave a reluctant nod. Without another word, he turned and shuffled down the hall, leading Remus to a door near Regulus's old room. He hesitated, wringing his hands before knocking lightly. "Mistress," he called hoarsely, "Kreacher begs your forgiveness. Kreacher..."

"Come in," came Cassiopeia's voice, low from inside.

Kreacher opened the door cautiously and stepped aside,  Remus hesitated briefly before stepping in.

The room was cold, dimly lit by a single flickering candle. Cassiopeia stood in the center, her face flushed and streaked with anger. Her hair hung in wild strands around her face, and her chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. On the far wall, several daggers were embedded in the wood, their handles vibrating slightly as if they had only just landed. Her hand hovered near another on the table beside her, but she didn't reach for it. The blood on her palm had mostly dried, the last few drops falling slowly to the floor

"Cassie," Remus said gently, stepping closer. "Let me—"

"What do you want, Lupin?" she interrupted coldly, She didn't even look at him, her eyes fixed on the wall as if it were the only thing she could bear to focus on.

Remus paused for a moment. He softened, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I just want to help."

Cassiopeia's laugh was humorless, bitter, as if the very idea disgusted her. "Help? Did you help when your dearest friend was throwing  Daggers after daggers with his words down there?" Cassiopeia scoffed, a bitter edge in her voice. "I could've used some help. With someone else alongside to defend me, Remus."

"For that, I apologize, Cassie," he said, his eyes meeting hers,"I never should have let it get this far."

Cassiopeia's lips curled into a mocking smile, but there was no humor in it. "Ah, but you did, Moony," she said, "I don't blame you. You Marauders always stick together, don't you?"

"Not this time," Remus said firmly,  "Sirius is in the wrong, and he should know it. But I'm proud of how well you handled your temper in the end. I really thought you'd do something—something worse."

Cassiopeia's eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. "Oh, don't think I've forgotten, Remus. When I take my revenge, it's gonna be huge."

Remus's expression darkened, though his tone remained calm. "You don't have to, Cass. Don't let the anger consume you. It won't fix anything."

Cassiopeia's smile faltered for a moment,  She turned away, her fingers lightly tracing the remnants of the bloodstains on the table "I knew I shouldn't have given you all the house," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "This stupid Order... it would never work against the Dark Lord anyway."

"Cassie, listen to me. This is bigger than all of us. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but we need to be ready. There's no room for vengeance. We're at war."

Cassiopeia's hand clenched around the edge of the table but didnt say anything

"Tomorrow morning," Remus said, his voice low "We have an Order meeting. Dumbledore himself is coming."

Cassiopeia's gaze shifted toward him, "Dumbledore? Is he finally going to stop pretending he doesn't know what's going on?"

********

So- First fight at grimmauld- ahahahha

i didnt want her to be there only for one day- cos thats no fun- not enough angst- fights-

will trying to build the dynamics of remus- cass- dumbledore- sirius- and potter-

ANND- CASSIE BEING OVER DRAMATIC OVER EVERYTHING- IS SUCH A BLACK FAMILY THING-

aanddd-- teh fact that sirisu is an absolute dickhead- I did include a cute walburga scene- cos i feel if she were to live she would be so proud of cassie-

I still have to make final touches- but-

feedbackkk

ahhahaha and college kinda sucks- but how are yall doin-

till next time

mxriddle