CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE;

THE SORTING HAT REVISITED

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Hey, losers. He isn't here."

   The Hogwarts Express had been stopped no less than three times since its departure, and each time Death Eaters took to the compartments to search for Harry Potter hidden in an unsuspecting third year's trunk. Neville had clearly gotten sick of their endless hunting; he stood up the moment they entered and shot them down with those five words.

   They left after a moment's pause, glaring daggers at those they passed. Cassie kept her head down under the false pretense of reading Hogwarts; a History, unwilling to put her Glamour disguise to the test just yet. She had no reason to be so nervous, really – nobody had yet stopped her or pulled her to the side, having recognized her for who she truly was. A few people – namely Cormac Mclaggen and Seamus Finnegan – had asked if she was a new student, and Cassie seized the opportunities to test her foolproof backstory.

She had told them exactly what she and Neville had rehearsed; that her name was Victoire Delacour. She was sixteen years old, to be seventeen in three months, as to not worry about the trace. She was a distant cousin of Fleur's on their fathers' sides. As for her accent... Truthfully, her and Neville hadn't worked that bit out. Cassie was dreadful at feigning a French accent; Neville's Gran had chastised her for it and scolded the both of them for 'causing ache to her ears'. Eventually, the two of them decided that Victoire was simply born in France, but raised in Britain, as to not surface too many questions of her inflection.

   "But why're you transferring so late in your education?" Cormac pressed as Cassie finished explaining, his eyes flickering over her body once – one time too many, Cassie thought, as she held back a shudder. Cormac shifted in his seat, leaning in. "Don't get me wrong, I'm mental for the mysterious, fit, new-to-school witch vibe–"

   "Yeah, that'll be enough of that," said Neville, thankfully cutting in and ushering Cassie away from a scoffing Cormac Mclaggen. Cassie gagged dramatically as her and Neville returned to their compartment that was shared with Luna and Ginny. "You alright, Victoire?"

   "Brilliant," she replied, gritting her teeth. She wanted nothing more than to pound in Cormac's oversized nose, but there was no way she could do such a thing. It was all she could do to restrain herself.

   Silence fell over the compartment. Cassie began to fiddle with the hem of her sweater, swallowing thickly as she avoided the harsh brown glare of Ginny Weasley. The ginger had been staring Cassie down ever since their first meeting; Ginny had not yet said anything, but Cassie got the feeling that her cover was on the brim of being blown open. Luna seemed as distant as ever, and Cassie wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad.

   "So.. you lot excited to get back to Hogwarts?" said Neville, probably just trying to make conversation. He winced at his own words, then continued, before anyone could reply, "Yeah, daft question..."

   "I'm always glad to return," Luna hummed, tilting her head to the side and gazing quizzically at the other three; Neville, in particular. "Though I suppose things might look a bit different with Professor Snape as headmaster."

There was another lull in the conversation. All four teenagers evaded each others' eye contact, the only exception being Neville and Cassie, who stared each other down so intently that Ginny cleared her throat to ease what probably fet like tension between the pair.

And then, shocking both Neville and Cassie, Luna added, "It's comforting that Cassie's returning with us, at least."

It took a moment for the words to set in. When they did, Neville spluttered and nearly fell from his seat, while Cassie's jaw dropped open. "You.. know?" she asked, completely and entirely gobsmacked.

Even further to their surprise, Ginny nodded along with Luna. "It's not that it's obvious," amended Ginny quickly. She shrugged, sharing a glance with the blonde at her side. "Luna and I just know you too well. Your mannerisms, I suppose. Your story is ingenious, I nearly didn't recognize you, but when you introduced yourself to Mclaggen there was no mistaking that clenched fist."

Cassie would have laughed if her jaw was not still hanging open. She turned to the blonde next to Ginny, still taken aback at their knowledge. "How long have you known, Luna? We've only left Platform Nine and Three Quarters two hours ago!"

"Since the start," she said, her eyes wide and earnest as she nodded. "I just assumed you were playing a bit of dress-up, really. But then I remembered how Cassie was pronounced dead yesterday – it was quite heartbreaking, honestly – but anyway, I had an entire argument with myself in my head over whether or not I should say anything, and then you had your signature Nargles around your–"

"Alright," Cassie said, rubbing her forehead and letting out an overwhelmed huff of air. She lifted her head and looked between the two girls, biting her lower lip. "Do you think other people will realize it's me?"

Neville suddenly slapped himself on the forehead. The three others looked to him, startled. He groaned in embarrassment. "I forgot the Notice-Me-Not!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

With a Notice-Me-Not Charm safely cast on Cassie, the four departed from the train once it arrived in Hogsmeade and followed the rest of the seventh years (a small bunch, really) to the castle for the annual opening feast. Cassie's stomach churned with every passing glance from bystanders – any one of them could recognize her. Then what? When that inevitably did happen, then what would she do? Run?

"It'll be alright," Neville murmured to her as they passed through the large wooden doors leading to the Great Hall. Though upon entry, Cassie was not sure that what Neville said would prove to be true.

The Great Hall looked something from a Muggle horror film Cassie had once watched. It was bleak, colorless – even Professor Trelawney, at the teachers' table, wore dull-colored robes in the place of her usual bright fabrics. Cassie couldn't even bring herself to look at the headmaster seat; her mouth filled with a vulgar taste at the thought of Snape and his cronies. Her eyes did linger for a moment on the Transfiguration teacher's seat; Professor Mcgonagall had her lips set in a thin line and eyes staring straight ahead, fingers draped almost casually atop her wand that sat on the table. Cassie nearly smiled to see at least one teacher would have common sense this term.

   And yet, even the idea of a smile was vanished from Cassie's mind as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Instead of the roaring red crowd of the Gryffindor House cheering as they sat around the old oak table, dejected students took their spots silently and without looking up, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Cassie's eyes flickered over the population of her House table; there wasn't even a third of the amount of people that had shown last year. If Cassie had to take a wild guess, she would assume that most of the missing pupils were Muggleborns who had retreated to hiding or purebloods that were known blood traitors; attempting to aid the Muggleborns, which painted an even larger target on their own backs. Had Cassiopeia Black still been alive, she would fall under the latter: A half-blooded descendant of Sirius Black – known blood traitor of the highest degree – practically submerged Cassie in screaming words of "Look at me! I'm a blood traitor! Blah!"

Needless to say, maybe there were a few positives to Cassie being classified as deceased.

   As she took her seat at the Gryffindor table, head bowed to listen with Ginny as to what Neville was muttering to them, a cold and harsh voice hissed from just over her shoulder, causing her to jump: "And who do you think you are, pretty?"

   Cassie turned so quickly she received whiplash. It didn't take but a moment for the wizard standing before her to be recognized as Amycus Carrow, loyal Death Eater and Snape's replacement as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Amycus was frightening to look at, to say the least – he had a long, pointed nose and beady, dark brown eyes that seemed to bleed into the blacks of his pupils. He stared upon Cassie with contempt, yet also a bit of excitement in his gaze – was he, perhaps, hopeful that Cassie was an unassuming Muggleborn he would soon be able to punish?

   "Victorie Delacour," Cassie replied without missing a beat. She quirked a blonde eyebrow, blinking at the man as if he were wasting her time. "Do you need something?"

   Amycus bared his teeth at her in semblance of a sneer. "Alecto!" he called; his sister stalked over as soon as the word had left his lips. Now both Carrow twins were peering at Cassie with the level of respect one would give to chewing gum stuck to their shoe. Amycus clicked his fingers at his sister, holding out a hand, in which Alecto provided a parchment that was scrawled all over with horrible handwriting. Amycus's eyes traveled down the list, tongue stuck out the side of his mouth, before lifting his head again, an evil glint in his menacing stare. "You're not on the list, Victoire. Might you accompany me to visit the headmaster?"

   It was all Cassie could do to remain calm – she restrained herself from sharing a worried glance with Ginny, Neville, or Luna, and instead upturned the corners of her lips in a pleasant half-smile. She swung her legs over the bench, making sure to 'accidentally' cause contact between her swinging feet and Alecto's legs. She feigned a frown. "Oops."

   "Why, you filthy–!" Alecto raised her wand, but Amycus placed a grimy hand over his sister's aim and gave her a faint head tilt.

   "Come, Delacour," he said, spitting out her name as if it were scum, "let's see what the headmaster has to say about this."

   Cassie stood wordlessly and followed the twins, keeping her hands clasped in front of her waist yet fingers brushing the grip of her wand that lay just inside her sleeve, buzzing with muffled magic. She caught Professor Mcgonagall's eye as they passed, watching as her favorite professor's lips thinned in an obviously disapproving way. Cassie turned her attention back to the man she now stood before, a sudden urge to wield her wand and cast him with a Killing Curse.

"What is this, Amycus?" Snape drawled, bored, as he peered over the edge of the table and at Cassie. He narrowed his small black eyes. "I don't recognize you."

"You wouldn't, sir. I'm new," Cassie replied pleasantly, tilting her head to the side and offering a faint smile. She buried her hatred and fear deep, just above her longing for Harry... No, she thought, now was not the time for reminiscing. "My cousin told me Hogwarts would be safer. Perhaps you have heard of her – Fleur Delacour? Anyway, my mother and father sent me here because–"

"I did not ask your life story," Snape said sharply, though he seemed a bit more believing in her role as an innocent student. The way he continued to scrutinize at her felt as though he was probing through her mind and picking through every detail she possessed in her brain until finally, he leaned back in his seat, seemingly content. He gave a low hum of thought, then his lips contorted into a cruel smirk. "You did say you're new.. As always, first-years must be sorted. If you would take a seat, Miss Delacour."

Cassie's heart beat so violently against her chest that she was shocked Snape had not seen it burst from her ribcage. If Severus Snape, of all people, couldn't see through her disguise, who could? Needless to say, she now felt a million times safer in her Glamoured form. Still, her heart rate seemed to have increased since she had taken her spot on the wooden stool and awaited the Sorting Hat to be placed on her head for the second time in her life. She felt quite content in her position; the Hat was bound to replace her in Gryffindor.

Just as the fabric of the familiar brown hat was set on her head, a recognizable and unforgettable voice echoed across her mind, one that she had not heard in nearly four years. "You again?" it said, sounding befuddled, yet also amused. "No one has managed to need a re-Sorting in all my centuries on the job. How badly did you make a muck-up of Gryffindor, then?"

"I'm not the same person I was so long ago," Cassie replied, plainly ignoring what the hat said, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that it could hear her mental pleads to be placed back in Gryffindor. "In fact, I'm quite literally a different witch. Gryffindor, please, I need to be in Gryffindor."

The hat merely chuckled, the noise resounding across Cassie's brain and sending a shiver down her spine. "Ah, but you've said it yourself: You aren't the same person you were so long ago. I'd agree, Miss Black, I would agree... You know, seems you've grown quite a bit in our years of parting. One could say you've grown a bit... ambitious."

Cassie's stomach flipped over and she nearly fell from the stool. Her fingers clutched the edges of her seat, knuckles white from the strain. "Don't. You. Dare."

"You're only proving my point further, dear," it tittered. "I do hope you succeed in your plot; it would be much easier to do my job and sort students if Hogwarts was not in shambles. But for you, for now – for the sake of the war – better be....

"SLYTHERIN!"