CHAPTER FIFTY;

OUGHT NOT TO CRY OVER SPILLED MILK

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Friday brought an unspoken buzz of excitement amongst the students – a buzz of the weekend, no classes for a whole two days, and on top of it all, Quidditch tryouts for Gryffindor. Cassie did not share this excitement with her classmates, though thankfully, neither did Harry. He seemed just as grim and sullen as her.

   At five o'clock, her and Harry knocked on Umbridge's office door, just as they had for the past three days. A chirpy voice chimed through the door and told them to enter; they did so, to see the blank parchment and damning black quills lying on their desks, just as they had for the past three days.

   "You know what to do, I expect," Umbridge hummed, smiling sweetly at the two of them.

   Cassie picked up her quill and took her seat. She lifted her head as a whistle blew faintly from the Quidditch pitch; glancing out the window, she realized she could catch a bit of the tryouts. A bitter taste in her mouth, she returned her attention to her lines and drilled them for the entire time. Not once did she lift her head until Umbridge told them time was up.

   Her hand did not heal as easily as it had the other nights. Usually, it scarred and smoothened over within a few minutes after she finished writing, yet Umbridge's message must have finally 'sunken in', as she put it.

   "It hurts, doesn't it?" Umbridge was asking Harry as he pulled his hand from her grip with a scowl. He did not answer, but Cassie noticed he had gone a few shades lighter and begun sweating. She looked upon him in concern, but he did not meet her eyes. Umbridge glanced over him again. "I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."

   Cassie followed Harry as he reached for his bag, but she paused abruptly as someone grabbed hold of her wrist. She turned to see Umbridge smiling sweetly at her. The woman tilted her head to the side, then said, "I believe I said Mr. Potter, not Miss Black."

   The teenager wrenched her wrist from the woman's grip furiously, yet did not say anything further. Harry watched from behind, his eyes glancing between the two witches. Cassie did not look back before saying, "Go, Harry, I'll be fine."

   He went. Reluctantly.

   "My message has not had the effect on you I hoped it would have," said Umbridge, tutting her lips in disappointment. Cassie rolled her jaw and flickered her eyes to the quill, now on Umbridge's desk.

    "I believe your message has been received well enough," she said in a low voice. She lifted her hand and faced the raw side toward Umbridge. "See?"

   "Oh, no," Umbridge tittered, shaking her head sweetly. "I mean that you must not tell lies." Cassie's confusion must have shown in her expression, because Umbridge smirked and went on. "You have told a lie to Mr. Potter."

   It dawned on Cassie. "When I said I would be fine. You're saying.. what, you're planning to do worse than a flesh-eating quill?"

   "Tell me where Sirius Black is and we won't have this problem." Umbridge's voice dropped decibels and she leaned in, a brown eyebrow raised expectantly. "The Ministry knows you know where he is. Tell me, and there will be no repercussions."

   "When you say no repercussions," said Cassie, crossing her arms and ignoring the searing pain when her hand made contact with her own skin, "I assume that means besides my father getting his soul sucked out painfully from his body?"

"Your–" Umbridge seemed pained to say the word, "–father.. is an evil man. He has done bad things, Miss Black. You understand, surely. He killed your aunt, would have killed your mother if the Ministry hadn't–"

"He killed nobody," hissed Cassie, her eyes narrowed. "My father is an innocent man. The Ministry is too close-minded to see that he has done no wrong. He didn't even get a trial."

"Because he is a guilty man."

"He is not!" Cassie's voice had risen an octave and even she realized how whiney she sounded, but she cleared her throat and continued. She had to watch her words very carefully. "He is as guilty of murder as I am."

   "He is guilty, Miss Black."

   "May I be excused?" she said, annunciating every syllable as she tried to keep herself calm. She pinched her own wrist.

   "Go, girl," said Umbridge after a moment, obviously disappointed her method had not worked.

   What Umbridge did not know was that she had successfully planted a seed in Cassie's mind; a seed that continued to blossom throughout her fifth year.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Cassie did not enjoy the sight that beheld her when she returned to the common room that night.

   The moment the Fat Lady swung open, she was greeted with a roar of sound. Ron came rushing toward her, beaming brightly and holding a splashing tin of butterbeer.

   "I did it! I'm in! I'm Keeper!" he cheered into her ears. She grimaced and tried to play it off as a smile, nodding enthusiastically as Ron ran off to celebrate his win.

   She slipped effortlessly through the crowd, and had almost made it to the spiral staircase leading to her dormitory when a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her aside.

"And where do you think you're off to, Black?" said Fred, while George thrusted a spilling mug of butterbeer into her hands. "It's a party!"

"I'm not really in the mood," she grumbled, pushing the butterbeer back toward George's chest. Both twins frowned and shared a look before pulling her off to the quietest corner of the room. She protested as much as she could, but their years as Beaters and tall physique bested her immediately.

"Out with it," said George forcefully. Both him and Fred had their arms crossed and a serious expression on their faces.

"Out with what?" Cassie asked cluelessly. She feigned a yawn. "Y'know, I'm knackered, I think I'll–"

"Nope," said Fred, grabbing her by the upper arm and spinning her back around to face them. "Can't get out that easily."

   "You're both the most insufferable–"

   "–Insufferable warts who ever had the audacity to wart," they finished in sync, rolling their eyes. Fred added, "You've told us enough, woman. When will this unending slander come to a halt?"

"When you decide to let me go to bed in peace, maybe," she said. "May I please go to bed, o' gracious ones?" Then she slipped away, without waiting for a response.

   "You can't run forever, Black!" shouted Fred over the roar of music and laughter from the crowd. "We will see you tomorrow!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They did not see her tomorrow.

   "She's not coming down," said Hermione reproachfully as she descended the spiral staircase. She collapsed into a fluffy armchair, exhaling deeply. "She's already missed breakfast and lunch. I assume Atticus is who we really need, but ever since Umbridge started enforcing the rules, boys can't enter girls dormitories–"

   "That's rubbish," said Ron with a scoff. "He's her cousin."

"I wonder if it has anything to do with what Umbridge said after I left," said Harry dully, absentmindedly flicking his quill between his fingers and staring into the fire. "I mean, if looks could kill... Umbridge would have died on the spot. Cass was furious when she left the office."

"Maybe.." Hermione hesitated and shared a look with Ron, biting her lip. She glanced around to see how many students were in the common room before leaning in. "Maybe you should write to Snuffles, Harry. Tell him everything, especially about Cassie."

   "Talking about me? Wow, what great friends you lot are."

   They turned over their shoulders to see a disorderly Cassie at the bottom of the staircase. Her hair, free of its natural charm, fell down her back in two ashy brown and tangled plaits. Her silver eyes were littered with charcoal flecks, practically the same colour as her deep dark circles. Neither her nor her friends could give an accurate estimate to how much sleep she had gotten recently.

Momentarily, she forgot what laid on the back of her right hand as she lifted it to rub her forehead. Hermione caught sight of the scarring and her eyes widened; Ron glanced nervously to Harry; Harry sent Cassie a grim look.

"What is that?" Hermione hissed, pulling Cassie's hand into her own. The latter yanked her wrist from Hermione's grip and shook her head with a grimace. She swallowed the truth thickly, then opened her eyes and feigned a smile.

"Scratched myself last night," Cassie said nonchalantly. "Nothing to worry about."

"Harry's got the same cut on his left hand," said Ron, walking over to the two girls. Harry followed, absently shoving his hand into his hoodie pocket.

"Curse you, Ronald," Cassie muttered as Hermione grabbed ahold of her hand – more gently this time – and examined it. "It's really nothing. Harry and I, we were staying up late and studying for–"

   "What did Umbridge do?" Hermione urged, her brow furrowed and her eyes burning with indignation.

   Harry and Cassie met eyes. His green bored into her grey intently, and the pair shared an entire conversation with only a single look. Finally, Cassie broke and sighed. She nodded. Harry gave a rundown of Umbridge's detentions – excluding, obviously, what happened after he had left – leaving Hermione in a state of both repulsion and shock.

   "That– that horrible woman!" she exclaimed, before being hushed by Harry and Ron. She lowered her voice. "You ought to tell Dumbledore–"

   "No!" Both Harry and Cassie's eyes widened and they shook their heads. Telling Dumbledore would only cause more problems than necessary – and wasn't the school motto to never tickle a sleeping dragon? That was exactly what Umbridge's detention was to the two of them; a sleeping dragon.

   "Dumbledore's got enough on his plate," said Harry hastily. Cassie nodded fervently.

   "Best to not cry over spilled milk," she added. "It's alright, I'm sure it won't happen again."

   "Well maybe you should write Sirius–"

   "No!" This time, only Cassie disagreed. Harry seemed to ponder on Hermione's suggestion for a moment. Cass turned to face him, her eyes wide as she shook her head quickly. "You can't write to him, he'll–"

"He'll what? We can trust him, Cass! You know we can; he's your father!" said Harry indignantly. Cassie felt her eyes burn with frustrated tears as the other three ripped a slip of parchment from Hermione's journal and began drafting a letter.

"You can't bother him with this!" Cassie insisted, trying to tug Harry's arm away from the parchment, but he pulled back with just as much strength. Cassie realized how childish she must have looked – throwing a temper tantrum and whining – but she believed this deserved such a reaction. "He'll freak! And– and he'll think he has to deal with it, and–"

"What's the real reason you don't want him to know?" Hermione asked suddenly, her brow knit together as she inspected Cassie, who felt quite self-conscious under her stern gaze.

"What?" Cassie asked, perplexed for a moment, then angry again. "This– I just– He doesn't have the time to be bothered with this!"

"Piss off," said Ron, turning over his shoulder and deliberately blocking Harry with his body.

   Cassie set her jaw and glared at the back of Ron's head before spinning on her heel and walking out of the common room without a backwards glance.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wipsy was beyond excited to see Cassie as the girl entered the kitchens for the first time that year. She bounced up and down on her feet as Cassie climbed through the hole, before throwing her tiny figure into Cassie's arms.

   "Oh, how lovely it is to see you again, Miss–!"

   "Black."

   "Miss Black! Ooh, a fancy name," said Wipsy admirably, her large eyes wide with earnestness. "Wipsy always wondered why Miss Lupin looks like Mister Black."

   Cassie froze, her anger from moments before sinking into dubiety as she gazed down to the small house-elf. She cleared her throat, then said, "Black? You knew my father?"

   "Wipsy is working for Mister Dumbledore for many years," said Wipsy, nodding slowly. "Wipsy is knowing Misters Black! Both!"

   "You knew my father?" Cassie repeated, her brain rushing a hundred miles a minute as Wipsy beamed up to her. "Sirius and Regulus Black..," she trailed off, remembering what her father told her of Regulus's fate."What– what was he like in school? My dad, I mean."

   "Mister Black is always visiting Wipsy in the kitchens," she said, still grinning brightly and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Much like Mister Forbes and Mister Diggory!" Wipsy suddenly froze, and her smile quite literally turned upside down. "W-Wipsy is m-missing Mister d-Diggory.."

"It's alright, Wipsy," said Cassie softly, though she was not quite sure it was alright. One on hand, she felt such a burning anger toward this house-elf for not telling Cassie she knew her parents before — but on the other hand, she felt sympathy toward Wipsy and shared her pain. They both missed Cedric; Merlin knew how close Wipsy, Atticus, and Cedric were.

   "W-Wipsy is s-sorry," she murmured, before wailing into Cassie's shoulder again. "W-Wipsy sh-should have t-told Miss b-Black!"

   "It's really alright," Cassie insisted softly. Suddenly, she felt quite indifferent to this crying house-elf. "I'm going to go, Wip–"

   "Oh, Miss Black," said Wipsy abruptly, pulling away from the hug. Her eyes still glistened with tears, though she managed a smile again before surprising Cassie into a stunned silence; Wipsy stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Cassie's forehead. The lips of a house-elf felt dry and chapped, but the gesture was much appreciated. So much, in fact, that Cassie nearly burst into tears on the spot. She hugged the house-elf for a moment longer, wishing more than ever that she had Cedric to hold.

   Of course, she did not have Cedric.

   If there had ever been a defining moment in Cassie's decision to fight with the Order, it had been that one; when she was holding a house-elf who was crying over the death of a boy that deserved nothing more than to live a happy life.