CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE;

OH, BLIMEY

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Harry seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood at breakfast the next morning. He sauntered over to the Gryffindor table with a wide grin in his face that even Cassie couldn't miss.

   "What are you so pleased about?" said Ron warily, eyeing Harry in surprise.

   "Er.. Quidditch later," said Harry happily as he pulled a large plate of bacon and eggs toward him. Cassie averted her gaze to the entrance of the Hall and watched Cho Chang enter; Harry must have seen her as well, as his cheeks glowed red and the pair of them made eye contact.

   Cassie suddenly became very interested in her cinnamon oatmeal.

   "Ooh, the post's here," said Hermione, watching as the Daily Prophet soared toward her in the beak of a screen owl. Hermione pushed a Knut into its pouch and untied the newspaper before the owl soared off again.

   "Anything interesting?" said Ron.

   "No," Hermione sighed, "just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married.." She disappeared behind the paper again as Cassie unenthusiastically picked at her half-cooked toast. A moment later, Hermione suddenly sat up, looking quite panicked. "It's Sirius!" she hissed.

   "What's happened?" Harry asked quickly. He ripped the paper from Hermione; Cassie watched his green eyes skim the article.

   "'The Ministry has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer.. blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!'" Hermione read in an anguished whisper.

   "What did you do?" Harry hissed, rounding on Cassie. She looked up from her oatmeal, speechless. "Did you snitch on Sirius because we wrote to him?"

   Finally, after she swallowed down her breakfast very heavily and squeezed her eyes shut to be sure she was not having a nightmare, Cassie said, "What?"

   "Because if you're upset I wrote to him, take it out on me, not him!"

   "I didn't tell the Ministry where he is," she said slowly, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing as the absurdity of the statement set in. "Harry, you selfish prick, I would never turn on my own father! And not everything is about you!"

   "Maybe we shouldn't do this here," Hermione urged in a hushed whisper, glancing at Dean and Seamus, who were looking between Harry and Cassie as though trying to connect the dots.

"I can't believe the nerve of you, Potter," said Cassie bitterly, standing and gathering her things. "If you don't trust me, just say it!"

And she left, before he really could say it.

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"Everything has gone to shit."

"Agreed."

"Nobody trusts me anymore."

"Oi!" Atticus protested, sitting up. "I trust you!"

"That's different," said Cassie in a toneless voice. "You're my family, you have to trust me."

"Shove off," said Atticus, though he was smirking amusedly as he pushed her shoulder. "How're you liking the new Defense professor?"

   "She's horrid," said Cassie glumly, hiding her face in her hands. "She hates me already, because she thinks I know where my father is hiding."

   "But.. don't you?"

   "Not the point," Cassie said, shooting him a glare. "Anyway, she's absolutely vile and I hate the color pink now. Because of her."

   "Hm," Atticus hummed absently in response. Cassie raised an eyebrow and sat up. He frowned. "What?"

   "Don't tell me you like her?" she said, scandalized. "How could you?"

   "She is an acquired taste," said Atticus under his breath, avoiding Cassie's eyes. "I happen to.. like.. hot pink old witches who–"

"–who abuse their power?" Cassie asked, sitting up straight and glowering at the boy. "You can't actually like her, Atticus!"

"I like her teaching methods," said Atticus calmly. Cassie watched him intently – he bit the inside of his cheek and avoided her gaze, picking at the hem of his sweater absently. He cleared his throat. "Besides, you've got no right to tell me who I can and can't 'like.'"

"I can if the person you're defending is Umbridge!" she hissed, looking at him in distaste. "Do you realize–"

"Yes, I realize she is a horrible person," he said sharply, standing from the couch. "But if I were you, I'd watch yourself around me – I seem to recall you saying that none of your other friends particularly like you right now."

And with that, he left the library swiftly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Cassie entered the common room that night, the last thing she expected to see was her friends sticking their heads in the fireplace and whispering indistinctly to it. Despite herself, she paused and approached them.

All three of them jumped when she cleared her throat. She opened her mouth to ask what in Merlin's name they were doing, when she saw her father's face sticking out of the hearth – her jaw dropped and she dropped her books on the couch absently before moving to kneel next to the three teenagers.

"It's a bit crowded already, could you–?" said Harry harshly, purposefully moving his body in front of hers. Cassie gaped at the back of his head before shoving him to the side and placing herself directly in front of her father's flickering face.

"As I was saying," said Sirius, though he sent his daughter a smile, "don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid. It'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay." He paused, then tilted his detached head to the side. "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I could–"

"NO!" said Harry, Hermione, and Cassie very loudly. The former and latter looked to each other in defiance. Hermione went on, and Harry soon joined in her protests;

"Didn't you see the Daily Prophet? They know you're in London–"

"–and Malfoy said something on the train–"

"– and Mr. Malfoy –"

Cassie froze, all eyes snapping to her. She clamped her mouth shut.

"What do you know about Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked accusingly, his green eyes narrowed to slits as he stared her down menacingly.

"Nothing," said Cassie hastily, shaking her head. "I– I just– assumed.."

   "Anyways," said Sirius loudly, obviously trying to get the attention off of Cassie, "I'd better go. I hear Kreacher coming."

   There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was a flickering flame once more.

"Great going," Harry muttered to Cassie, bitterly picking up his books and stomping up the stairs to his dormitory. Cassie bristled as he passed her, listened to his footsteps until they had died down and a door was slammed, and that was when she felt her eyes begin to sting.

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were standing behind her and could not see the glistening tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Cassie blinked, hard, and wiped her nose.

"See you tomorrow, then," said Ron under his breath as he walked past her, following Harry's path to the dormitory. Cassie watched him go with a quivering lower lip. She turned to Hermione, who seemed utterly torn.

"S'alright," Cassie told Hermione pitifully. "Suppose you want to go check on Harry. It's fine."

As it was very obvious Cassie was not fine, she was hoping Hermione would say, "Oh, no, you're the one that needs me!" or something soothing, but Hermione did not say anything as she hurried past Cassie and up into the boys dormitory.

Alone – again –, Cassie wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her robes and dropped herself into an armchair by the dying light of the fire. She was not aware of how much time she spent in said chair, and she did not know how long it had been before a voice piped up behind her.

   "You look... erm.."

   Cassie glanced over her shoulder to shoot her visitor a scowl before slumping back into her chair and rubbing her eyes with her palms. "Go away. I'm not in the mood for talking."

   "You don't have to talk, I'll do it all," said Neville earnestly, moving to sit in the chair opposite Cassie. "Umbridge nearly caught me cheating on an assessment today. That foul woman's got some nerve, doesn't she? Showing up here, claiming our school's 'broken'..," he scoffed, shaking his head. "I mean, I'd take Lockhart over her any day. And Lockhart's memory's been wiped.."

   Cassie's face had glazed over. Neville frowned and tapped his finger on his knee as he thought for a moment.

   "Listen, Cass," he said quietly, "I know you think no one's paying attention to you; I know what that's like. You think nobody's noticed, but I do – I notice you go quiet whenever Harry enters the room, I notice the way your shoulders droop when he speaks over you. And you haven't been sleeping much, have you?"

   Cassie wanted to find something to get angry over, something to defend herself with, but there was nothing. Neville spoke only the truth. Her shoulders sunk and she finally exhaled a breathy sob.

   Neither her nor Neville spoke as he moved to her side and held out an arm. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder, curling her knees to her chest. He wrapped an arm around her front and held her in silence, their bodies moving in sync with her quiet sobs.

"Neville," she said after a moment, her voice only barely audible. He hummed softly to let her know he was listening. "I've never asked about your parents."

Immediately, she was sorry she said anything. She could feel Neville's body stiffen, and her stomach dropped. "N-nevermind," she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I didn't mean to—"

"No," said Neville, wrapping his arms around her tighter. "It's fine. It's just.. well, nobody's really asked me before. I suppose I should at least tell somebody..."

And so, Neville lapsed into a very quiet retelling of the horrible fate of Alice and Frank Longbottom. His voice broke at the worst parts, and Cassie squeezed his hand to let him know that it was okay. He seemed to get better with her reassurances.

Cassie could easily hear the heartbrokenness of the boy holding her in his arms. Yet the way he spoke about his parents, the way he tried to visit them every month... Cassie frowned. How awful must it have felt to see your parents once a month, only to have them not recognize you?

When Neville finished, Cassie was silent for a short while. Then, with a shaky exhale, she said, "Thank you for telling me. I'm.. sorry."

"Don't be sorry," said Neville in a stuffy voice. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault."

She faintly remembered Atticus telling her the same words of wisdom so long ago.