CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO;

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm never attending another one," said Cassie furiously, tugging her hair free of its braid and shaking it out furiously. She ripped a Quidditch sweater over her head to cover her short dress and wiped her lip gloss off with a rag. Turning back to Hermione – in her normal clothing, thank you very much – she continued, "It was horrible. Don't even try to convince yourself otherwise. I can't believe that– that– Ugh!"

"I know," said Hermione consolingly, frowning at her distressed friend. "Mclaggen's a git, but even I've got to admit–"

   "You admit nothing!" cried Cassie, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "I was in the right, Hermione. He called me–"

   "I heard what he called you," said Hermione, wincing, "but it gave you no right to hex him so horribly."

   "Now I've lost ten points to Gryffindor," said Cassie, throwing her hands in the air. "It was totally worth it, though," she added with a scoff, picking up her wand and stomping down the stairs to the common room. Harry and Ron looked up as she descended, instantly nodding very aggressively toward the stairs to their own dormitory, before hastily climbing the steps themselves. Cassie gave Hermione an exasperated look before following the boys.

The former stormed into the room, nearly slamming the door on a sighing latter. Cassie threw herself down onto Harry's bed, face-down, while the two boys stared at her as though she were insane. Hermione only rolled her eyes and turned to Harry. "What is it you wanted to see us for?" she asked.

"I've just returned from my lesson with Professor Dumbledore," he said, "and–"

"Oh, yes, we know," said Cassie sardonically, sitting up and supporting herself with her palms. "The oh-so important lesson that you just had to miss Slughorn's bloody party for."

"You missed quite a bit," Hermione mumbled to him as he turned to face her with an incredulous look on his own face. He nodded, still bemused, before shaking his head and returning to his recap of what he'd witnessed this time.

It was the story of Dumbledore visiting the orphanage Tom Riddle had grown up in and inviting the wizard himself to Hogwarts. From how Harry had told the tale, Tom Riddle was an odd child, even more so than a regular wizard. He said he could speak to snakes, which Cassie was quickly informed by the three teenagers surrounding her was something inherited by Salazar Slytherin himself, and Tom Riddle was, in fact, a descendant of the infamous wizard.

   Harry finished by informing his friends that Professor Dumbledore believed this was the most important of the memories he had indulged Harry with in their lessons. "But how?" asked Cassie a few moments later, her face riddled with befuddlement and relieved of its earlier anger. "How is that important? That Voldemort grew up an orphan?"

   "I've no idea," Harry admitted in a quiet voice, picking at his thumb to keep his hands from sitting still. As Hermione began speaking, Cassie subtly reached over and pulled Harry's hands apart to keep him from ripping the skin from his finger in anxiety. He gazed at her while Hermione rambled on.

   "I'm sure it'll all connect together in the end," Hermione was saying reassuringly, waving a hand. "Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't show you something without it being of vital importance, I'd swear it."

   "Yeah," said Cassie encouragingly. "Just keep at the lessons and we can puzzle-piece it into place when we've got more information."

   "Puzzle piece?" repeated Ron, tilting his head to the side curiously. The three others shared an amused look before Cassie cleared her throat.

   "Ron, a puzzle piece is a dangerous Muggle torture technique from the first Muggle war," she replied seriously, nodding. Harry and Hermione gave him earnest looks, which he returned with absolute fear. Cassie went on, "Puzzling is when one Muggle takes the skin of his target and p–"

   "Oh, alright, you're pulling my leg," said Ron, though he was still completely pale-faced. Harry, Cassie, and Hermione all laughed, while Ron exhaled a shaky chuckle.

The next day, at Herbology, Harry was still pondering on what he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve.

"It's a scary thought," muttered Ron as they walked through the mist to the greenhouse, "the boy You-Know-Who. But I still don't understand why he's showing you all this."

"Me neither," said Harry, falling into place behind his counter inside the classroom. "He says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think its fascinating," implored Hermione wistfully. "It makes absolute sense to need to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else can you find out about his weaknesses?"

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked smugly. Cassie's face twisted and she let out a hmph of irritation, but it was Hermione who answered.

"It was.. quite fun, I suppose," she said cautiously, eyeing Cassie closely. "I mean, up until–"

"Up until Mclaggen called me a slag, you mean," Cassie interjected angrily, manhandling her green stump with such force that it snapped in half. She huffed and dropped it into her bowl, shaking her hands out to rid them of the foul-smelling pus. When she looked up, both Ron and Harry were glaring at her and clenching their fists. She nodded. "It's true," she said, glowering at her bowl of cracked wood and pus. "He said I've only made the team because I'm shagging Harry and – oh, come off it, Harry, obviously it's not true!" she said, as Harry had let out a spluttery noise and dropped his bowl.

"Obviously," Harry repeated, though his voice was an octave higher than usual and his face, which Cassie caught a glimpse of before he dropped his head, had blushed furiously.

   "Anyway," said Hermione, as though the interruption hadn't even happened, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he asked Cassie and me to secure a date when you were free for him to host it on."

   "Slug Club," Ron said distastefully. He sneered a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you lot enjoy your party. Maybe Hermione can try hooking up with Mclaggen–"

   "We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who had turned a boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you, Ron, but if you think it's so stupid then I won't bother!"

   And she stormed off to cross-check her work with Neville. Ron and Harry stared after her, but Cassie merely returned to jogging down notes in her journal. She was halfway through describing the smell of the stump's pus as rancid and ogre-like when she felt the boys turn their stares back to her, and she looked up curiously.

   "Did Mclaggen really call you a slag?" asked Harry in a determinedly calm voice, though his contempt shown through his clenched jaw.

   Cassie scoffed and continued scratching down her notes. "'Course he did," she replied under her breath. "Did you expect any less? He's an egotistical git who thinks he's better than everyone else at everything he does. By the way, Ron, you're a billion times better Keeper than he is."

Ron stared at her with wide eyes when she glanced up at him. "D'you mean it?"

She shrugged. "'Course. Why else would you have a spot on the team, and not him?" She snorted, then added, "It's not as though you're shagging the captain."

   Cassie smirked at Harry's second splutter of embarrassment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Alright there, Black?" sneered a familiar voice that, so few years ago, Cassie would have only ignored – but times were different now. She tensed at Malfoy's voice, instantly reaching for her wand in her breast pocket, her fingers curling protectively around the thin stick of maple wood.

They sat in the Great Hall. Lunch had always been one of Cassie's favorite subjects; easy to pass, plus she got to eat to her heart's content, but recently, Malfoy took back to jeering at the Gryffindors and making wildly inappropriate jokes about their situation. He hadn't done it since.. well, Cassie couldn't really remember when he'd stopped. It was strange, truly, to hear it again, and Cassie was almost jarred to look over and see him scowling at her from the Slytherin table.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she said instinctively, her shoulders caving in on themselves and slumping forward a tad. Malfoy let out a loud laugh but – and Cassie couldn't help but notice, as she was always doing the same nowadays – it had an edge of bitterness behind it, as though Malfoy didn't truly find anything funny.

   "What is it, Black?" Malfoy crooned. A quick glance over her shoulder told Cassie that Malfoy was clearly not taking any pleasure in this. His shoulders were tense and his pale face was absent of its signature smirk that it always held when he found prey to pick on. So if Malfoy wasn't doing this for the hell of it, then why would he even bother? It wasn't as though he had anyone to impress, the two of them were about the only people around. Cassie narrowed her eyes at him, only to find his narrowed right back.

   "What are you playing at?" she insisted, swinging her legs over the bench of the table to glower at him. He glared right back, his jaw taut and clenched. He surveyed her for a moment, both lion and snake unspeaking, until Malfoy clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if he'd made a decision.

   "Pity, isn't it?" He scoffed, shaking his head and digging his tongue into the side of his cheek. He let out a low, sour laugh. "Suppose you're just heartbroken over your blood-traitor of a fath–"

   "If you finish that sentence, Malfoy, I'll hex you sideways," she threatened, eerily calm, her grey eyes exposing her of nothing but absolute sobriety. "What is it you want?"

   "Wanted to express my condolences," he said, but his smirk revealed his true amusement at the words. "Must be a shame, losing a father."

   "You would know," she quirked a sharp eyebrow, venom dripping from her voice, a simper on her face not much different from his own, "wouldn't you?"

   Malfoy visibly tensed upon the insinuation of his father. Cassie gave a satisfied wink before turning back to her Charms essay. Trusting her gut, she cast a non-verbal shield on her back – just in time; she heard the soft hiss of a jinx making contact with the ward. Cassie spun around on the bench, feigning shock at the heavy-breathing boy.

"Surely you weren't attempting to curse a lady whilst her back was turned?" she chided, shaking her head as though disappointed. "I'm sure Professor Moody would be absolutely gutted at the thought."

"You bitch," he growled, pointing an accusatory finger to her chest. She glanced down to it before looking back up challengingly. "Don't you dare talk about my father."

"I will do whatever I please," she said coolly, twirling her wand across her knuckles. "Especially if your father is the reason my father and cousin are dead."

Malfoy smirked. He actually smirked. Cassie felt an unfamiliar burst of fury at the action; so much so that she actually felt her magic rolling under her skin, as if it were preparing to cast an Unforgivable. She kept it at bay, though her wand inexplicably shot out red sparks.

"I forgot about that other Mudblood you're related to," said Malfoy daringly, his lip upturned. Before Cassie could even argue that Atticus wasn't technically a Mudblood, Malfoy was leaning in and lowering his voice. "Never even found his body, did they? Hm. Be a shame if anyone knew the whereabouts, especially someone whom you hate, oh-so much."

Cassie was completely taken by surprise. Her jaw fell open and her wand slipped from her fingers, clattering to the stone floor. She didn't even bother to reach for it. "Y-you're bluffing," she said through a dry mouth. Her eyes narrowed and she flared her nostrils. "Trying to get me riled up, are you? You bloody bastard, I'll kill y–"

"Oh, lion has claws," Malfoy observed, tilting his head to the side. "I'd watch it, if I were you. Your precious eagle may be alright for now, but one word from me, and–"

   "Stop!" Cassie threw up her hands in front of her face defensively, shaking her head. "No, stop. Y-you're lying, I know you are! B-bugger off, Malfoy.." She reached for her fallen wand, still in a half-daze, and stood.

   As she stormed from the Great Hall, she risked a single glance behind her; Malfoy was smirking victoriously to nothing in particular. With a lurch, Cassie realized she had two options: either accept the truth, which was that Atticus truly was gone and she desperately needed to move on, or she could choose to believe that Malfoy wasn't bluffing and that Atticus was alive. Somewhere, in Death Eater's clutches.

   She almost wished he really was dead.