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Chapter Text

Candace Potts, two days newly ten, was investigating a hissing sound from near the house. At first she had assumed that the hose was leaking, and was dreading the beating that could come from Uncle Vernon for breaking the hose. Then she saw the vivid green snake, with strange, shifting patterns on its back. But what was even stranger, was that the snake was speaking to her. 

“I sense magic,”

This had happened before with small garter snakes, but never one of this size, nor color and she had always brushed it off as her active imagination, or hallucinations from lack of food and water. But she could clearly understand this snake and there was no one else around to make a noise

“Are you speaking English?” She asked politely, leaning over the snake, her hands folded behind her back

“English? Silly speaker, snakes do not speak English.” The snake hissed at her, “ The speaker speaks parseltongue”

“Oh,” Candace furrowed her brow. Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t like how she understood English. English was more difficult with the rather sub par education she’d received on the subject. Parseltongue however felt that she’d been speaking it her whole life. Ingrained in her since the very beginning. She felt something shift in her chest, like a puzzle piece sliding into place after being shoved in multiple wrong spots. 

“How can I speak to you? Or how can I speak this language, but no one else can?”

The snake let out a hiss that Candace interpreted as laughter, “ Because you are magical, silly speaker!”

Her first reaction was to laugh. Magic? Foolish “Magic isn’t real!”

The snake looked at her puzzled, “ Speaker, you practically reek of magic! But it’s also suppressed in someway, like another magical is covering or masking it,”

Candace stared at the snake blankly and wondered if she’d finally cracked and gone mad.

“You don’t believe me,” The snake said, bemused. Candace shook her head no. “ Open you palm,”

She complied and opened her palm to reveal callouses from years of hard work under the Dursley’s less than careful tutelage. 

“Now close your eyes and imagine a ball of light appearing in your palm. Any color you would like”

Candace closed her eyes and imagined a ball of vivid green light, the color of the snake’s scales. She sat there silent for a moment before she dropped her hand. 

“It’s not working,”

“Be patient, focus on your own magic and feel”

She took a fortifying breath and closed her eyes again. Candace focused on her hand. Finally, she felt a stirring and a tug from her middle and her palm lit up with a light warmth, uncomfortable in the summer heat. 

She snapped her eyes open and there it was. A ball of light about the size of her fist, floating in the middle of her palm. 

“What the hell??” she shrieked, stumbling backwards. She fell backwards onto her arse and the snake slithered up towards her. 

“Calm yourself, Hatchling,” the snake chided, “Take a deep breath. Do not fear yourself. This will lessen the control you have over your magic.”

Candace took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. She lay back in the grass that she’d cultivated through the spring and summer months and absently petted the snake on the head.

“Silly Speaker,” the snake huffed, “You need help. I will stay with you.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Not in the sense that you humans have names, but you may give me one.”

Candace studied the snake. There was something that looked like a jewel set in his head and had a tail that looked like the pictures she’d seen of a rattlesnake, but the rattle was black and looked strange and heavy. 

“You’re a very regal snake,” she said, “I think that something fancy would suit you”

The snake provided no answer and simply continued to lie in the sun.

“Perhaps a god, something … dangerous. You are venomous, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very much so speaker,”

“Atropos,” she decided

“Atropos,” the snake hummed, slithering his way over to her. “May I ask why?”

“Atropos was one of the Fates.” Candace said, swallowing before she continued, “She decided when people died, and you are apparently a rather poisonous snake, so…” she trailed off, unsure of her explanation. 

“A worthy name. I will wear it proudly,”

Candace grinned at him. “I’m glad”

“You mentioned… magic” she said quickly, glancing around to make sure her relatives couldn’t hear her. “Can you- Can you tell me about it?”

Atropos hissed in approval and explained, “The humans like to separate their magic. Light, Gray and Dark. Magic doesn’t always work the same for creatures, but sometimes it does.” 

“There’s wild magic too. It’s the most pure and unfiltered magic that you can find. Using it causes a significant strain on the user’s life force”

Candace let Atropos’s voice wash over her as she took care of the garden and lawn until dark

—————-

Night begins to fall, and Candace is trying to figure out how to get Atropos inside.

“Can I wrap you around my waist and hide you with my shirt?”

“That should work”

She quickly grabs hold of the snake and brings him up so he can wrap around her waist. He makes seven coils before he doesn’t have any extra length hanging off. She pulls her oversized shirt down and looks around at herself as much as she can to make sure the snake is not visible.

Rushing into the house to start dinner, the screen door slams shut behind her. She winces at the sound but scrambles to the kitchen to peel the potatoes and prepare the meat.

Preparing her ingredients, she fell into an almost meditative state, letting her body run on autopilot to make the cottage pie.

—————

She was pulling the cottage pie out of the oven when Dudley barged into the house, loudly declaring his need for food. 

Taking her cue from this, she calls through the house, “Dinner’s ready!” almost slipping into Parseltongue. Her voice, rusty from disuse and cracked at the end.

Vernon lumbers to the kitchen table from the sitting room, grumbling about how she interrupted his television program. Petunia comes rushing from upstairs and hurriedly takes a seat at the table.

Bringing the large dish to the table, she dishes out a large portion for both Dudley and Vernon, a small but still reasonable piece for Petunia and none for her.

While they eat and discuss their days, she stands in the corner, her hands folded in front of her hand-me-down trousers. She could tell Atropos wasn’t pleased about her situation by the hiss he let out. 

Once they had eaten their meal and Petunia had her wine, and Vernon his brandy, they moved into the sitting room to watch the telly. Before Petunia left the kitchen, she’d told her to eat the rest of the cottage pie and snapped at her for being such a burden. 

She ate the rest of the pie, which wasn’t bigger than a small orange, but it was better than nothing. 

She trudged to her cupboard and closed the door behind her. She didn’t dare talk to Atropos for fear that the Dursleys would find out about him and kill him. An hour later, she heard Vernon close the lock. She didn’t hear the click that the lock usually made, which meant that Vernon hadn’t completely locked the door. Probably by accident.

 —-------------------

Blinking awake, Candace yawned before sitting up and stretching, only to whack her head on the slanted ceiling.

“Ow,” she hissed, glaring up at the ceiling as if it was its fault. 

“Are you okay, speaker?” 

She jumped, having forgotten that he was there, before chuckling. “Yeah, all good Atropos. Just er, bumped my head on the ceiling” 

The serpent seemed to take this as an acceptable answer because he curled back into the thin blanket that still held the warmth of her body. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot onto the miniscule portion of dirty rug that was between her bed and the door and waved hello to the spider that took up a nest in the corner of the cupboard.

She pulled her socks on and changed out of the way too large hand-me-down pajamas into her also too large hand-me-down trousers and shirt. She tested the door to check the lock to see if she could start breakfast early. Finding the door unlocked, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway.

“Do a warming charm on me first” 

“Hm?”

“Do a warming charm. Close your eyes, point at me or the blanket I’m on and imagine it warming up,” Atropos hissed.

She closed her eyes and reached out a hand. Closing her eyes, she pictured Atropos, wrapped around the blanket. She imagined the blanket heating to a comfortable temperature. Waiting like that for a minute, she knew she’d been successful when she heard Atropos’s sigh on content. 

Smiling back at him, she made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the stove and grabbed the pan that she needed. Starting the sausage and the bacon, she also pulled out the eggs. 

While they were cooking, she grabbed a tomato and sliced it. Once the bacon was done, she could throw it in the bacon grease to fry it. She could hear Petunia coming down the stairs. Glancing over into the foyer, she prepared herself to get yelled at for breaking the lock on her cupboard. She froze as she heard Petunia stop at her cupboard door, not hearing the sounds of breakfast cooking. Throwing down her spatula, she sprinted into the hallway

. 

Petunia screamed when she saw Atropos, a look of horror frozen upon her face. She could hear Vernon’s furious yells as he stormed down the stairs to see why his wife was screaming, Dudley following. in a panicked rush. 

“What’s wrong, pet?” Vernon questioned, grabbing her by her shoulders. “Was it the Freak?”

Petunia stuttered, struggling to form words around her own fear, “S-s snake! There’s a snake!” 

Pointing at her cupboard, her hands shaking from her terror. Vernon looked at Atropos, who was hissing loudly enough to be heard from the kitchen. He turned red in the face and whipped around to face Candace, “YOU FREAK!” He bellowed, “YOU BROUGHT A SNAKE INTO MY HOUSE AND THREATENED MY WIFE WITH IT?”

“No- no! No, I swear I didn’t mean to!” 

Vernon got into her face and wrapped both of his meaty fists around her throat. He lifted her up off the ground and slammed her back into the wall. Her legs kicked pitifully, trying to aid her escape from the crushing pressure around her throat. Dudley was laughing at her and Petunia was clutching her hands against her chest, still staring at the cupboard. 

Vernon slammed his fist into her face. Hard. Her nose was running blood, and a bruise was forming around her left eye. Tears streamed down her face as she begged him to stop. Atropos was rising out of the cupboard and slithering toward Uncle Vernon. 

Vernon continued beating her, but not sticking to the face. Vernon went for her ribs next, punching her as hard as he could. He let go of her neck and she crumpled to the floor, unable to support her own weight. He stomped on her leg with all his weight behind it and she screamed, blood leaking into the back of her throat, the taste of copper and overwhelming taste in her mouth. Her uncle punched her in the face again. “SHUT UP YOU FREAK!”

Just then Atropos got a hold of Vernon’s legs and tried to tie them together with his body. Vernon roared and in a fit of rage, yanked the snake out from around his legs and grabbed her by the arm, dragging them both out the door and throwing them in the street. She hit the pavement hard, pulling herself up with her aching arms. 

“GET AWAY FROM US YOU FREAK OR I’LL CALL THE COPS! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN”

The door slammed shut behind Vernon as he strode back into the house. She checked the windows to make sure that no neighbors were peaking through their lace curtains to see the commotion, but it was much too early in the morning to be up. 

She hauled herself up onto her most likely broken leg and humbled down the street, grabbing Atropos and wrapping him around her neck along the way. 

“Stupid human, how dare you speak to my speaker that way!” 

“Atropos,” she said softly, “Calm down, please,”

“Speaker, you cannot be out and about all alone,”

“I can’t go back, Atropos. I won’t. That place isn’t my home.” With that last sentence, something broke inside her, but it didn’t feel bad. She felt… free. As if someone had lifted a weight off her shoulders. 

“Your nest parents must have left you something?”

“They died in a car crash when I was a baby, drunk driving. The Dursleys always said they were deadbeats and I should be glad they were dead,” Candace said miserably, coughing into her hand, only to find blood. 

“Now, why would you believe anything they say? For all you know, your parents could be wonderful people who loved you,”

“If they did, where would they have left my supposed inheritance?”

“There is a magical street in London. There is a great large bank there that many wizards went in and out of in my time at the potions. Perhaps they’ve left you something.”

“I guess we find London then.” She set off towards the center of town to find a map that could point her towards London, limping along on her probably broken leg, the taste of blood making her sick.

—---------------

Once she made it to the library, everything got better. 

The librarians at the small library knew her by name and were always kind to her. Ever since she had started school, the Dursleys had not let her in the house until it was time to start supper. She had to be on her own, outside of the house, for around 3 hours. She had no friends, and with Dudley and his friends chasing her around calling it Candace Questing. (Dudley had been very proud when he came up with the idea to use the word questing.)

She’d found herself at the library most of the time. The library always kicked Dudley out if he was causing a racket (which he always was) and they let her hang around for long hours after the school day. The only librarian there that didn’t like her was one of the older ones. She had pale skin and, like Aunt Petunia, looked down her nose at Candace because of her brown skin. 

Through one of Vernon’s drunken rants, she’d learned that her father was an Indian man. According to him, her father was ‘no good’ and had brainwashed her ‘perfectly good and normal mother’ into marrying him. When she’d repeated what Uncle Vernon had said to her favorite librarian, she’d scolded her and told her better. 

“Just because a person is different doesn’t mean they’re bad,” Heidi had scolded softly 

Candace was six when this had happened. She murmured her agreement absentmindedly and reached up to touch Heidi’s braided hair in amazement. She’d seen nothing like it. Many long, little braids hung down from her head. 

Heidi looked at her fondly, swung her up on her hip. She was supposed to be much too big for things like this, but years of little food and much work left her frame frail. 

“Let’s go pick out a book for you,”

Once at the library, she found a pamphlet that had a map of the UK. Grabbing a couple more local ones, she headed into the library proper.

She made her way over to the counter to pay for the maps with the little change that she always kept stuffed into her shoes. Heidi was at the counter doing checkouts. When she looked up from her book and saw Candace with her black eye, blood trickling down her face and arms, a possibly broken leg and a busted lip she immediately stood up, the chair falling over and clattering to the floor as she rushed over to Candace.

“Candace! What happened to your face? Wait, no time for questions, come with me” 

Heidi grabbed hold of her hand and gently pulled her along toward the staff break room and sat her on the counter. Pulling down medical supplies from the small cabinet and another from a stash in a drawer that didn’t look quite like normal supplies. 

“She’s magical,” Atropos hissed into her ear, slithering down her shirt to hide behind a stack of books on the counter. 

Candace glanced at him quickly before looking away. Heidi was fusing over the bruise that trailed from her face down underneath her shirt collar, and slathered a paste all over the bruise. 

“Does it hurt anywhere else, love?” She asked, brushing hair out of Candace’s face.

“I think my leg’s broken, and it hurts to breathe in,” Candace croaked.

Heidi’s face fell, and she looked at her in horror. “Oh Morgana,” she breathed out.

She immediately got back to work, lifting her shirt to slather more paste around her midsection, putting a bandage around her leg and resetting it in place. Heidi nodded decisively and went to retrieve something from her strange looking kit.  

“This will heal your leg,” she said, lifting a yellow liquid in a vial. Candace hesitantly reached out to grab the vial and swallowed it. She wasn’t expecting the horrible taste. It was rancid and scalded, her throat on the way down. She coughed and sputtered after swallowing it and Heidi caught her before she could fall off the counter. 

Heidi smiled at her and cupped her face in between her hands, “Go to London and find the Leaky Caldron. Ask the bartender to open the alley for you. Find the Blue Hyacinth and go to the woman manning the front desk. Tell her that Heidi Knowles sent you.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

Heidi swiped her thumb over the large scar covering most of her forehead, arching down across her nose and eye similar to a lightning bolt, like she was swiping away dirt smudged on her face. “And try to hide this scar.”

She lifted Candace off the counter and set her down on the ground. Kissing her on the top of the head, she said, “Go to London. Follow my instructions and be careful” 

Candace swallowed, but nodded and grabbed her maps and Atropos before dashing out of the library, waving to Heidi. 

“What were you saying about her being magical?”

“She taste-smells like magic speaker,”

“What is taste-smelling?” 

Atropos gave her as unimpressed a look as a snake could give and said, “You are doing it now”

“What?” she asked, bewildered. “I haven’t been tasting anything!”

Atropos laughed softly at her and explained, “Taste-smelling is how snakes identify each other and their emotions. We also use it to taste-smell dangerous magic.”

Candace hummed and continued walking, avoiding people towards London. 

—--------------------------------

She’d been walking for seven hours. 

Atropos was heavy around her shoulders, her feet ached, her whole body ached like she was discarded in a river of fire and yanked out before being told to dance. 

The sun was high in the sky and she’d been walking for six hours. She was nearing Milford now, around two kilometers, it said. That was about half an hour ago. With her healing leg, aching ribs and sore body, she was walking at a slow pace. She had had nothing to eat since last night and it was taking its toll. 

Hope swelled in her chest as she saw a Welcome to Milford sign on the side of the road. Cars passed her now and then, but none had stopped to bother her. Her face was burnt from the sweltering heat beating down on her shoulders, and anytime she ran her fingers through her long hair, they would come back hot and stinging from the sun of her hair. 

Milford was a cute town. The houses were cute and quaint. She was walking through the center of town, Atropos curled around her waist out of sight when someone bumped into her harshly. 

“Watch where you’re going twat!!” a large man said, looming over her when she fell to the ground. He was obviously a tourist by the pamphlet clutched in his hand. 

“Sorry- sorry sir, I wasn’t paying attention!” She stuttered out trying to scoot away from the man.

He rolled his eyes, and suddenly Candace wanted with an urgency to know why. Why do people hate her so much? Why did people always seem to want to hurt her? An explosive headache rocked her head as suddenly other’s thoughts, opinions, business all crammed into her head, pushing and shouting over each other for room. 

She sat back, clutching her head and letting out a sob. The man rolled his eyes and left her there on the ground, going to rejoin with his family.

“Insolent girl, almost made me drop my drink. Gotta find Marie and the kids,” 

“Should I pick this vegetable or this one?”

“What should I have for supper?”

“This place is incredible!”

“I think I’ll have a cuppa,”

“Ow!”

“Where’s Mum?”

“I’ve gotten lost,”

There were so many thoughts in her head that weren’t her own. She wanted to scream and to sob. She wanted to go back to that place in her distant memories, full of laughter and red hair and brown skin, gray eyes and bright smiles. An orange cat, a black dog, chocolate, and… happiness. 

She wanted home.

When she came to, she was in an alleyway, hiding behind some trash bins that someone had left out. There were tear stains on her cheeks. Atropos was hissing at her softly, and she blinked owlishly, trying to understand what he was saying. 

“Speaker! You’re awake! Are you okay? Would you like me to get help? You taste-smelled of pain-family-hurt-longing”

“I’m fine Atropos,” she laughed softly, reassured by the snake’s worried behavior. “I was just… overwhelmed I guess,”

There was a beat of silence, and Atropos looked at her like he was deciding something. “I would like to be your familiar,” 

“What’s that?” Candace asked, confused. 

“A familiar is a creature who can provide protection and assistance to the witch as they grow older and as an adult. The witch is then responsible for looking after and provide for the familiar,” 

“Is this just for females? I thought witches were only women?”

“Silly speaker. No, witch is for all magicals. Nasty humans made them separate.” Atropos hissed, making a face. 

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. How does the familiar thing work?”

“I must bite you,”

She reeled back in shock. “What!?!?!”

“Do not worry, Speaker. It will be of no harm to you if I have the intention of a bond.”

She slowly nodded along to Atropos’s words and offered her hand for him to bite. He opened his jaw and sank his venomous fangs into the flash of her hand. Almost immediately after he had bitten her, she found herself overcome with magic. It was hard to process anything. The magic flashed through her eyes like the beginning of the universe, the pleasant sun on skin, the smell of a forest, the satisfaction of a hunt well done. 

It was hard to pick out anything specific, but feelings and accomplishments came through pride, sadness, enclosure. Memories of a cage came into her head. Of being used for ingredients. Discussion she could barely understand, but she could understand the grim tones and the words ‘kill the snake’. 

Candace met, well, herself. She felt overwhelming feelings of safety-compassion-kindness-protection- and many that she didn’t have the time to decipher before the magic receded and settled in her core like a warm, heavy blanket. She opened her eyes that she hadn’t even known she’d closed to find Atropos, her familiar glaring at her.

“Those horrid people! I will bite them and tear them limb from limb and-”

“Atropos?” She said fearfully.

“That awful family of yours! How could they even! To a child no less!”  

“Atropos, it’s fine,” she said, petting his smooth scales that glided like water from her calloused fingertips. “I’ve left. They don’t matter anymore,” 

He huffed, but she ignored him and pushed herself up off the ground. Scooping him up and placing him around her shoulders, she started to ask him a question, but before she could ask he said, “Cast a notice-me-not charm on me. Just think of me not being here not being able to be seen by anyone but you, about people’s eyes just gliding over me,” 

She swallowed, but nodded and closed her eyes to concentrate. The girl imagined what Atropos told her to and rested her hand on his smooth body as an anchor point. She felt magic rush from her hands like water from a faucet and a tugging in her chest. 

“Well done Speaker,” 

 Candace grinned and skipped out into the street to test if anyone noticed. She walked a couple meters down the street and when no one noticed, her grin stretched wider. 

She had been walking around for roughly half an hour, debating her options on how to get to London, stomach growling, when she saw it. 

A guy’s hand was slipping into a woman’s purse and came back out with a wallet, slid out the cash, and dropped the wallet back into the purse without the woman realizing. She was so shocked at what had happened that the only thing that she could do was look at the thief who was disappearing into one of the side streets and think how. 

Her brain was filled with knowledge that wasn’t hers and she instinctively knew how she would have exactly stolen that wallet and all her jewelry without that woman noticing. 

Swiftly walking by the woman, she panted. What had she just done? What was that? Was it the same thing with now she could hear the thoughts of the surrounding people? Spotting a park bench, she sat down heavily and looked around, trying to figure out what the bloody hell was happening!

Petunia would’ve washed her mouth out with soap if she’d heard that language. (If she dared to waste soap on a freak).

Candace didn’t dare talk to Atropos for fear of being found out but he had no qualms about talking to her.

“You were scared.”

She hummed in response, eyes darting from person to person, hoping none of them would hear the snake’s hissing. 

“You have a new ability. Use it.”

“But my new ability is to read minds! How does that even work?” She hissed softly under her breath, making it look like she was cooing at the pigeon on the street. 

“I do not know, Speaker. But you can use this to help yourself. You know how to steal now. Take a train to London. Get food.” Atropos urged her softly. Her stomach growled in response at the mention of food. 

“Alright,” she said slowly, “But only a small amount of money from each person.”

“That’s a good start, Speaker,”

She nodded decisively and went off to find her new target.

—-----------------------

It had been twenty minutes and her hands had slipped into five purses, three wallets and 2 pockets.

Now a whole 120 pounds richer, she skipped down the street in search of a cafe or restaurant. She paused in front of a nice-looking cafe called Godalming cafe. It wasn’t too busy, and the sign said they were open. 

—----------------------

Eating that large of a meal was a mistake.

She had gotten one of the simplest meals on the menu and here she was now, throwing up most of her breakfast into a bin in a deserted alleyway. 

At least she’d only spent ten pounds on it, anyway.

—----------------------

Briskly walking into the Milford train station, she bought a ticket at one of the kiosk and made her way towards the train that would leave in 5 minutes. Using the information she’d skimmed from a harried commuter, she’d found the right train and connector that she’d need to take to get to London. 

Half-sprinting towards the right part of the station, she made it just as the train was arriving, the doors opening and letting the people spill out of it like water let out of a container. She boarded the train, making sure that the notice-me-not charm that Atropos was under was still in place. Glancing at an open seat, she quickly took it, unsure of how many people the train would have. She would be on the train for an hour, but she didn’t dare relax around so many strangers.

This was going to be a long train ride.

—----------------------

She exited the train at Waterloo an hour and change later, before making her way to the Northern Line. From what she had skimmed, the train ran every three minutes as opposed to the train she was just on, which ran every hour, so she wasn’t too worried about making it. 

The ride was a short 2 minutes before she stepped out into the Charing Cross station and then out onto Charing Cross road.

Walking up the street, head of a swivel trying to take in the sights while also trying to look for the pub that Heidi had mentioned.

Her eyes locked onto a dingy pub with a sign over it, claiming it as The Leaky Cauldron. Found it. Looking around at the non-magical people, she saw their eyes just slip over the entire building like it didn’t even exist. Just like the spell she’d put on Atropos. That was so cool.

Nervously entering the pub, she tried to make herself fade into the background. No one seemed to notice her but the bartender as she sped walked towards him.

“By Magic.” He said in a hushed voice, “Are you Cassie Potter?”

Candace looked at him strangely. “Er, no. My name’s Candace Potts. Are you the bartender, Tom?”

“Why yes I am!” Tom shook himself and recovered quickly from his almost reverent tone from before. He was a rather short man, with a hunched back, crooked teeth and no hair. But he had smile lines around his eyes and had the wrinkles of a life well lived. 

“Can you let me into the alley? I don’t quite know how to do it.”

“Ah yes, a rather common request of young magicals like yourself,” He said, winking at her.

He led her into a small enclosure behind the pub and tapped a couple of bricks in a specific order with what she presumed to be a wand, but really looked like a random twig he had picked up off the ground and kept with him. 

The bricks jumped to life and rearranged themselves like they had heard the tapping of the wand and, without a moment’s thought, decided they might want to be an archway instead of a wall. The bricks turned and twisted, creating an opening into an alley that was positively bursting with life.

Tom chucked at her expression and waved her goodbye before turning around and making his way back into the pub. 

She stood there gaping at the alley before wandering her in. The wonderful smells of different food stalls and restaurants immediately hit her, but most present of all was the magic. 

“Atropos,” she hissed. “Do you see this?”

“Yes, speaker. It is quite grand.” 

She continued into the alley, feeling the heavy magic beating down on her. The magic was dancing, happy, and had an almost musical quality that felt like there were many great symphonies playing in time with each other above the alley. People in the alley were in no hurry making their way around the stores to do their shopping. 

The buildings looked as if they were about ready to fall over at any moment with how crooked they were, and no one even seemed to care about the state. She could taste the chocolate from the candy shop a few stores down and hear the inviting music of an ice cream parlor. 

The alley was very, well, magical.

“Where did Heidi say we should go?” Candace whispered, overwhelmed.

“The Blue Hyacinth. I can see it over there.” Atropos said, pointing with his nose.

She nodded and quickly made her pace in that direction. 

The bell jingled as the door swung open and a kind-looking receptionist looked up from her Witch’s Weekly magazine. Candace had never heard of the magazine and based on the cover, she’d figured it was one of those tabloids that Aunt Petunia would slip into the supermarket trolley when she thought no one was looking.

“Er, someone named Heidi Knowles told me to tell you she sent me?”

The woman slammed her magazine onto the counter, and Candace nearly jumped out of her skin. “Yes! She told me you were coming. Sent an owl and she said she didn’t know when you were going to be here, but I’m glad you did sooner than later.” She had a thick Scottish accent that made some of her words almost undecipherable. The woman rambled, pushing her towards one room in the inn, seemingly not noticing Atropos’s hissing at the woman.

“I’m sorry- but I don’t think you told me your name?”

“Ah, sorry about that. I get excited sometimes and forget what I was saying all the time! Heidi hated it! It’s always the Ravenclaws..” the woman (witch?) continued mumbling before seeming to remember something, “Oh right! My name! I’m Katrina Thorburn, one of Heidi’s best friends. I run one of the best inns in Diagon Alley if I do so myself.”

Candace was too overwhelmed to do anything but go along with what the woman said. Katrina led her into the room and turned to her. “You’re in room eight and you’re free to stay however long you like. Any friend of Heidi’s is a friend of mine, but don’t tell anyone! It’s bad for business,” she said with a wink. 

“Now go to bed! You’ve had a long journey all the way from Little Whinging! Going from South Surrey all the way to London, imagine that! You better rest. Dinner will be ready in three hours, so I’ll wake you up around then,” Katrina said, pointing a finger at her and grinning cheerfully before turning out of the room and closing the door behind her.

What the hell had just happened?

Too tired to even process anything, she undid the notice-me-not charm around Atropos and collapsed into the very comfortable falling asleep almost instantly.

Chapter Text

She woke up in the late afternoon with no idea what time it was other than the setting sun that she could see through the window. 

Candace pushed herself into a sitting position confused on where she was before all the memories of the day came rushing back at her like a tidal wave. The beating, being kicked out of the house, traveling to London, the new power she’d discovered and now meeting Katrina. She was incredibly overwhelmed and took several deep, steadying breaths before she collapsed back into a lying position on the bed. Atropos hissed a playful good afternoon at her and she made grabby hands at him until he slithered into a coil on her chest and she could run a hand down his smooth scales. 

The two of them stayed in silence for a while before Atropos spoke up, “We will go to the back tomorrow morning and I need to teach you the goblin etiquette I do know.”

She hummed a noncommittal response back, but looked at him to show she was listening.

“You have to be direct, to the point of rudeness. To the goblins time is money and if you waste it you are not worth it in the first place.”

“How do you know all this?” She interrupted, shutting her mouth afterwards, heat rising to her cheeks. 

“I have overheard a great many things in my time, Little Speaker.” he said, continuing about goblin etiquette that Candace paid rapt attention to, trying to soak in all the information. 

Later in their discussion Katrina came in holding a tray of food and Atropos quickly slid under the blankets to hide from view. 

Candace accepted the tray with a smile and a thank you but barely ate much, not wanting a repeat of what happened with her lunch, she ate slowly while Atropos continued on with his lecture. 

By the time she’d finished most of what she could eat Atropos had no more knowledge on Goblin etiquette to give her and Katrina came back in for the tray a little while later.

“You barely ate anything,” The energetic witch said, frowning down at the half-touched soup with grilled cheese on the side. 

Candace smiled apologetically, “I’m not really used to having this much food, er I’m sorry”

Katrina’s face turned pitying and Candace swallowed down her resentment at the expression and quickly made excuses about eating a large lunch and saying that she was tired and going to bed. 

“There’s a bathroom through that door.. Take a shower, or a bath. Whichever you prefer,” Katrina said, leaving the room, with that pitying expression still on her face. 

Candace stalked to the bathroom and angrily stripped her clothes off while starting the shower. She didn’t exactly fancy sitting in a pool of her own dirt and blood no matter how nice the idea of a bath sounds. Thank you very much. She hated being pitied. 

Every teacher she’d ever told about the Dursley’s looked at her that way. Like she was some stupid 4 year old kid who had scraped a knee and was wailing about how he needed to be taken to the hospital. They thought she was exaggerating the situation. 

“You’re probably just upset that your cousin got more sweets than you dear, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Did you get in a fight with your relatives?”

“You're making a very big deal out of a small situation dear. Mr and Mrs. Dursley are both perfectly respectable people and so is their son. You’re the only one causing trouble and you should be grateful they are even giving you the time of day!

She shook her head to clear it of the memories and stepped in the shower. She wondered how it operated without plumbing and electricity. Magic most likely. She shoved that thought down for later. Her eyelids were heavy and the warm bed curled up with Atropos sounded like heaven. 

—-----------------------

She woke up early the next morning. She still didn’t have a watch so she had no idea what time it was. Candace pulled herself out of bed, extracting herself from Atropos. 

Looking down at her clothes, she grimaced. They were dirty and stained with her blood and dirt from the walk from Little Winging. She glanced at Atropos, making a decision, and shook him awake.

“What is it, Speaker? It is early,” Atropos hissed.

“Is there a cleaning charm? My clothes are very dirty and I don’t think I’d make a very first impression…”

Atropos, with a lot of disgruntled hiss rose from his lying position and faced her. “Run your hand over your clothes like one of the human vacuums and imagine all the dirt, grime and blood being lifted away. 

Candace concentrated hard and ran her hand over her clothes, about an inch away. “It’s not working!” She complained

Atropos laughed, “Try until you get it silly Speaker,”

She frowned but tried again. And again. And again. Finally on her 8th try it worked. The dirt and grime dissipated into nothing and her clothes smelled like bleach and lavender. 

“To transfigure them into wizards robes is the last thing I will tell you before I’m going back to bed.”

Candace nodded enthusiastically and looked at Atropos expectantly. He rolled his eyes but gave her the instructions and went back to bed. 

It was many tries later before she finally got the hang of it. 

—-----------

When Atropos properly woke up Candace had successfully transfigured her hand-me-down rag like clothes into a simple black dress that went down to her knees, a green wizard’s robe that almost touched the ground and a pair of tights to go under the dress.

Atropos nodded in approval, “You will need something to cover your scar.

“Why?” She frowned. She rather quite liked her scar and thought it looked cool. The way she got it aside she thought it made her face much more interesting.

“Heidi said to do so, remember? It must be important if she mentioned it in the way she did. Go on,” 

She glanced around for a moment looking for something to transfigure into a hat. Maybe like a witches hat like in the cartoon that Dudley watched once? She saw a couple of people in Diagon alley with them so she wouldn’t be too out of place.  

She spied one of the socks that she might not need with the tights. She grabbed hold of it and held  it in front of her, closing her eyes to focus.

It took her a couple tries, but with the practice she had with the other clothes it came much easier. The sock expanded into a wide brimmed witch’s hat with an emerald ribbon that wrapped around the base of the hat and tied in a bow down the side and cascaded off of the hat. 

“Very good Speaker, get dressed, the bank will open soon,”

Candace quickly scrambled up to get dressed fumbling with the tights, having never worn them before. 

She stood in the mirror, grinning at herself. “Much better dear,” the mirror spoke and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The mirror laughed and Candace felt her cheeks heat up.

“I didn’t know you were there,” she squeaked, before turning and all but running back to Atropos. 

She grabbed her worn out trainers but Atropos hissed in disapproval, “You will need different shoes,”

Candace frowned. “But these are my only shoes,” she said, still in English

“Transfigure them child!” The mirror shouted across the room, scaring her again. The mirror burst into cackles at her reaction. 

Ignoring the chuckling mirror she closed her eyes and focused on the shoes and imagined them turning into boots. Petunia always said that women should always do business in heels, but boots seemed practical to her, and Candace didn’t necessarily put too much faith in what her aunt says anyways. 

Opening her eyes she found a pair of black leather boots that would reach about halfway up her calf, with laces in the front.

A bright grin spread across her face. She laughed,  “I did it the first time!” 

Atropos smiled in amusement, “Alright speaker, we must be going soon. Put your shoes on,”

She shoved the shoes on her feet, fingers stumbling around the laces for a couple of minutes before she was able to get them right. She wobbled for the first few steps but found her stride soon after, and made her way towards Atropos.

She slung him around her shoulders and paused to focus on putting a notice-me-not charm on him again. The magic left her fingertips and she could still feel her magic ooze over the snake like a cracked egg. 

Once she was sure the spell was in place she grabbed her newly transfigured hat and took a last glance at herself in the mirror. She could barely recognize herself. Candace smiled and the girl in the mirror smiled back.

A breath of disbelief left her lips. She looked like an almost entirely different person. Her hair looked shinier than before and her green eyes shone brightly with magic. The black dress clung to her figure and the long draping sleeves of the robe draped over her knuckles. The girl in the mirror looked… happy, and nothing like the starved child that she had been mere days ago. 

Despite the new glow that seemed to emanate from her skin she could still see the lines of abuse. Her face was sunken in and shallow, she was too skinny and you could see almost every bone in her body. Her eyes looked haunted, like she was on the verge of becoming a ghost. 

She turned tail from the mirror and quickly left the room.

Diagon Alley was exactly as she remembered it from yesterday. The magic was the same, bustling around like a busy shopper who had a lot to do and very little time to do it, but managed to remain as excited as a toddler about the task assigned. 

She skipped up the street, the skirt of her dress swaying around her knees pleasantly. She hummed a little tune she’d heard playing in the library once as she made her way to the bank.

People parted out of her way without even realizing it, steering around from the subtle power humming around the girl like a warm embrace. 

When she reached the bank she paused before reaching up to touch her hat. In front of this impressive bank and the well dressed guards, her fun hat seemed incredibly  out of place. She took a breath, strengthened her resolve, strode up to the guards and put her fist to her chest bowed slightly and spoke the hopefully correct and up to date greeting to the guards at the door, “Good day, may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty”

She quickly rushed into the bank, barely hearing their stumbled replies to her greetings. She made her way up to a goblin teller and quickly realized that she had no idea what to ask for.

Before she could actually think of something it was her turn to talk to the teller. She glanced at the gold nameplate on the desk before speaking. “Good day Teller IronFang, may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty,” She said repeating the same motion she did for the guards at the door.

The goblin stared at her and she was unsure on how to interpret his expression “...Good day, may your gold always flow and your enemies quiver. What business do you have with the Goblin Nation today?”

Candace cleared her throat before speaking “I’m here to investigate any inheritance from my family,”

The goblin raised an eyebrow and spoke as if reciting, “The cost of the test will be 10 galleons, to be paid upon completion of the test in respect to those paying through inherited vaults,” 

Candace nodded quickly and Ironfang pressed something on his desk. After a second another goblin appeared through a door behind Ironfang and beckoned for her to follow. 

Behind her she could hear Ironfang call out “Next!”

She followed the goblin into a marble passageway and he led her down several more corridors before opening a door and gesturing for her to enter. The door shut ominously behind her and the goblin that led her here did not follow.

The goblin that was in the room already looked up from where she was sharpening a blade.

“Er… Good day,  may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty”

The goblins face flashed with surprise before quickly being masked. “May your gold always flow and your enemies quiver. Sit.”

Candace quickly sat in the chair opposite the goblin on the table.

“I am Master Onyxclaw. You are here for an inheritance test. Correct?”

Candace nodded quickly.

“As this is blood magic, if the last of line clause does not apply your magical guardian will be informed after the test takes place. Are you ready?” Master Onyxclaw recited.

Candace swallowed. Whoever her magical guardian was, she didn’t trust them. They had presumably, placed her with the Dursleys and kept her in the dark about magic. 

“Take the risk,” Atropos hissed in her ear.

“Yes, I - Yes, I’m ready.” 

Onyxclaw nodded sharply before hanging her a dagger, a piece of parchment, a potion, and bowl. “Take the potion and dump it in the ritual bowl. Use the ritual dagger and drip seven drops of blood into potion, use your bleeding finger to stir it counterclockwise thrice and pour it onto the parchment. 

Candace rushed to follow the directions that Master Onyxclaw had given her. The potion was a swirling silver but quickly turned to a blood red when her blood was added and slowly turned into an inky color when stirred counterclockwise. She then obediently took the bowl and poured it somewhat evenly over the parchment. 

The potion blood mixture swirled around on the paper for a few seconds before seeping into the paper. She stared nervously at the paper for a moment before words began to appear. 

The Inheritance Test/Blood Test of Cassieopia Lily Potter-Black

Name: Cassiopeia Lily Potter-Black

Mother: Lily Rose Potter-Black née Evans (Goblin-friend)(deceased)

Father (Birth): James Fleamont Potter-Black (deceased)

Father (Blood Adoption): Regulus Arcturus Potter-Black (missing, presumed deceased)  

Godfather (Father chosen): Sirius Orion Black III (incarcerated) 

Godmother (Mother chosen): Alice Abigail Longbottom née Fortescue (incapacitated)

Godmother (Father chosen): Pandora Vinda Lovegood née Rosier (deceased)

Physical Guardians: Vernon and Petunia Dursley

Magical Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Lordships/Heirships

Lady apparent to the Most Noble House of Potter 

Wizengamot seat holder

(Eligible at 15 for lordship due to last of line clause, heirship at any age

Inherited through previous Lord James Fleamont Potter-Black)

Heir apparent to The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

(Eligible for heirship at any age

Inherited through previous heir Regulus Arcturus Potter-Black)

Heir presumptive to The Most archaic and Most Noble House of Peverell

(Eligible for heirship at any age

Inherited through previous Lord James Fleamont Potter-Black)

Heir apparent to The Most archaic and Founding House of Slytherin

(Eligible for heirship at any age

Inherited through previous heir Lily Rose Potter-Black

Title forfeited by Tom Marvolo Riddle on account of mental & soul state)

Potions, Spells and Blocks

Potions

None

Spells

Diffidentia Homines

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Keyed to Slytherin House

Avada Kedavra

Magical traces from Tom Marvolo Riddle

Blood Glamor

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Res Parva

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Obliviate (4 times)

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Blocks

Parseltongue/Parselmagic Block 70%

20% Baby Core Block (set to fade over 2 years status: INTERRUPTED)

Magical traces from James Fleamont Potter-Black

20% Core Block

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Metamorphmagus total block

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Mail block

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Keyed to: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Other

Horcrux

Magical traces from Tom Marvolo Riddle

Properties 

Potter (British branch)**

• ¼ Marauder’s Den
• Southwark, London
• Potter Manor
• Kent, United Kingdom

• Stag Rest Villa 
• Andhra Pradesh, India
• Griffin's claw
• Northern Ireland

Black*

• 11 & 13 Grimmauld Place
• London, England
• RENTED

• 12 Grimmauld Place
• London, England

• Black Castle
• Unplottable

More properties viewed upon permission from Lord apparent

Peverell*

• Peverell Village
• Lockdown since 213 CE

• Peverell Castle
• Unplottable

Slytherin*

• ¼  Hogwarts Castle
• Scotland

126 House Elves

• Chamber of Secrets
• Slytherin Castle 
• Unplottable 

*Request account audit for more information about accounts

**Potters split into 2 branches in 1698, still remaining in contact. Main branch in India Secondary branch in Britain. See either family grimoire for more information 

She stared at the parchment, dumbfounded. How could she not even know her name? “Cassiopeia Lily Potter-Black” she mumbled, testing the name on her tongue. 

Master Onyxclaw looked at her strangely. Candace (Cassiopeia?) handed over the test silently. 

“I don’t know what a lot of this means. I’m very new to the magical world,”

“You said your name was Candace Potts?” Master Onyxclaw asked.

“Er, yes… or I thought it was.”

The goblin hummed and her eyes flicked down over the rest of the parchment. “Well most of this will have to be removed, and a lot of it is concerning. This is above my expertise. I recommend meeting with your account manager. Which would you choose?”

“Er,” She shifted uncomfortably, “What are my options?”

“The Potter, Black and Peverell accounts currently have an account manager,” 

She nodded and turned to Atropos. “Any ideas?” she hissed, trying to keep quiet.

“Peverell. None of them have ever contacted you and the Potter manager might end up alerting whoever this Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore person is. I’ve heard the name Black in passing and it was barely ever associated with anything good.”

She nodded, “Any ideas about the name?”

“It is your true name. The name those Dursley’s called taste-smelt wrong. Tasted like falsities, lies and lemon drops,” Atropos hissed unhappily.

“So that is really my name?”

“Yes my speaker, or should I say Cassiopeia?”

Cassiopeia smiled slightly to herself and looked up to address Master Onyxclaw, “I would like to see the Peverell account manager please,”

“Very well then, I will send word,” Master Onyxclaw said and reached into her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. Quickly writing something on it she tossed it into the air, where it burst into flames. She then did this again and another goblin appeared at the door a few minutes later. Master Onyxclaw then handed her back her inheritance test. 

“Come with me heiress,” The goblin said. 

Cassiopeia stood and smoothed out her skirt, before turning back to Onyxclaw. She fisted her hand over her heart, tilted like she was holding a dagger. “May your gold flow and your enemies blood flow faster,” Cassiopeia said, bowing before turning on her heel and following the runner goblin, barely catching Onyxclaw’s look of surprise. 

The runner goblin led her further into the bank, past rows of doors, progressively getting more ornate the deeper they got. Cassiopeia swore she heard the roar of a dragon once but quickly brushed it off as her own imagination. 

The door that they stopped at had skeletons engraved on it. There was a skeletal horse in the front with human skeletons all around it, as if taking care of it. The door was encrusted with gems. It was like a mural in an old cathedral. There was a name plate proudly displayed near the top of the door, on a black plaque with the name Peverell engraved on it in looping calligraphy. 

The door swung inwards and she stepped inside, slightly hesitant. The runner goblin left her standing on the threshold, looking at the goblin sitting at the pristine desk. 

Cassiopeia walked towards the seat on the other side of the desk, but paused before she could sit down. Reading the nameplate displayed on the desk she fisted her hand over her heart, angled down, she bowed, “Good day Bloodtooth, may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty,” she said, in the most formal voice she could muster. 

The goblin looked at her almost nostalgically, as if remembering someone who wasn’t there. “Heiress Peverell, I have been waiting for you. I must ask, why have you never responded to our missives?”

Cassiopeia looked at him confusedly as she settled down in the chair, “I’ve never received any missives my whole life, let alone any from Gringotts,”

Bloodtooth hummed, “This is strange, may I see your inheritance test?”

Cassiopeia handed him her inheritance test from where it had been clenched in her hand. 

Bloodtooth ran a fingernail down the paper, “Found it, a mail block. And a complete one too,”

“Can you explain… everything on that paper to me? I’m completely new to the magical world.” 

“Yes, I can,” He said, turning the paper around and pointing at the very first thing on it. “Your name was given to you through the Potter, Black and Evans naming traditions. The Potter tradition is to be named after an ancestor, the Blacks prefer stars or constellations and the Evans are partial to flower names for girls.”

“You parents had an exceptionally difficult time trying to honor all of these traditions before settling on a magical flower, that also happened to be a constellation and an ancestor for one of your fathers”

“How do you know this about them?” She asked, tears forming in her eyes at the care that was taken in choosing her name.

“Your father, Lord Potter-Black let his wife Lady Potter-Black, or Lily Evans take main control of the Peverell family, while he took care of the Potter family.” Bloodtooth replied, “This means that I maintained a large contact with your mother. She was a kind woman who followed goblin etiquette and gave us the respect that many humans don’t. She was someone I had even dared to call a friend,”

“Oh,” she said softly, eyes tracing her mother’s name. A kind woman, who treated goblins with respect. The description didn’t match up with the one that her Aunt Petunia had given. She preferred this one much more. She wanted to reach up and snatch the story out of thin air and hold it close to her chest, her heart before it faded away like a lingering scent in the wind. 

Cassiopeia closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring the moment, before she opened her eyes and blinked away the tears. “And, why do I have three parents? And if I have three, why have they never come for me?” She asked, and neither she nor Bloodtooth acknowledged the waver in her voice.

“That is the sad truth, Heiress Peverell,” Bloodtooth said, “All of them are dead.”

“Oh,”

“As for why you have three parents, it was originally traditional to have three partners, to make a trio. A magically powerful number. Your parents fell in love with each other at Hogwarts. I believe that they got together in their 7th and 6th years, respectively,” 

Cassiopeia nodded along slowly, trying to match up the wizarding tradition to the muggle tradition of two. 

“To understand the rest of this story you must know about Voldemort. He was a powerful blood-purist who believed that people of old lines, like both of your fathers, are greater than witches and wizards of new lines, like your mother.”

Atropos slithered down from her shoulders down to her lap and she absently petted his scales.  Bloodtooth either didn’t care or the notice-me-not charm was still holding.

“Voldemort, also called He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who, amassed a following of people who agreed with his ideals. He named this group the Death Eaters and marked them.”

“This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with my parents?”

“You will understand in time,” Bloodtooth patiently said, “The Death Eaters were advocating and carrying out acts of incredible destruction, leading a genocide of new lines, leaving a massacre in their wakes. 

Cassiopeia looked at Bloodtooth with horror, how could people do that?

“The Blacks, an old family that your father was from, had a large number of their members in the Death Eaters.” Bloodtooth continued, “Your father, Regulus, was forced to join Voldemort the summer after his 6th year at Hogwarts. Shortly after he came running to your parents, who had recently graduated.”

“Your father, James was at the time gaining his masters in transfiguration from Professor McGonagall and Lily her Charms mastery from Professor Flitwick. They tried to remove the mark, but they could and the magic was rooting itself into his magical core.”

“They decided that Regulus would spy for them in Voldemort's Death Eaters.” Bloodtooth said, “This was three years before you were born. Regulus moved in with them as soon as he graduated. No one knew he was living with them but their friends and me. I’m sure you can find out more through their journals that are in the Potter Trust Vault. They got married a year after Regulus graduated and half a year later, Lily fell pregnant. After they figured out who the father was, Regulus blood adopted you, making you theirs.”

Cassiopeia swallowed down a lump in her throat, anticipating what was coming next. Atropos squeezed her hand from where he was wrapped around it as a show of support. 

“Regulus was presumed dead three weeks after you turned one, and your parents followed on October 31st 1981, murdered by Voldemort.”

Cassiopeia let out a broken sob. Murdered by Voldemort. Tears leaked down her face, trailing the sides of her face, like a gentle caress before dripping off of her chin into her lap. Her shoulders were shaking and her breath was coming in short sobs. Her own parents were strangers to her. Taken before she could even get to know them. She felt hatred pool in her chest, like a blazing inferno for Voldemort. How many other parents had he murdered? How many kids left orphaned in the wake of his and his Death Eaters malice?

“What happened to Voldemort?” she asked, eyes fierce, even with tears still leaking down her face.

“You and your mother killed him. Although he is not, in actuality, dead.”

What.?

Chapter Text

At the look on her face Bloodtooth began to explain. “The horcrux listed on your test is a piece of heinous magic. It allows for a portion of the caster’s soul to be stored inside an object or, in this case person,”

Cassiopeia stared at him, her mouth open in shock. “His soul is… inside me?”

“Yes,”

Her breathing quickened. Her own parent’s murderer was currently being housed in her body?”

“Do not worry, child. The horcrux shouldn’t be able to take over your body, but the goblin nation will run tests on the soul piece to be sure,”

She swallowed and slowly nodded her head, dread building in her gut. 

“Moving on, the godparents are people that have been sworn to take care of you and protect you. They are supposed to be aids in your upbringing and your magical journey.” Bloodtooth continued, “Each of your parents chose one.”

“What are the Lordships?”

“Each Lordship is responsible for a piece of land, settling disputes, and representing the people and creatures that live on that land.”

“So this land, am I responsible for it?”

“Yes, but as you are only an heir right now, you are responsible for settling disputes and approving buildings and structures that could be built on your property. Your proxy will control your votes on the Wizengamot,”

“Am I also responsible for the non magical side of things?”

“Only when it interacts with the wizarding world, like a big sporting event that needs anti-muggle wards,”

She nodded and let her eyes move down to the extensive part of the test that showed the extensive amount of potions blocks and spells that were on her. 

“Can we go over the heir stuff later? I want to talk about the spells and stuff,”

Bloodtooth sighed but opened his mouth and started talking, “I’ll just go in order. Diffidentia Homines is a spell that causes distrust and hatred towards whoever it’s keyed to,”

"So, Slytherin House?" she asked. 

"Yes," Bloodtooth nodded, "Slytherin is where a large majority of Death Eaters came from. This doesn't discredit the house as a whole, but Lord Dumbledore might have seen this as a way to make sure you couldn't be influenced by Death Eaters, if a strange way to go about it," 

Cassiopeia nodded slowly and Bloodtooth continued, “The next is from when Voldemort tried to kill you, Avada Kedavra, the killing curse,”

Atropos climbed up her leg and into her lap and Cassiopeia looked down to continue petting him.

“A blood glamour changes your appearance in a way that will grow with you and won't need any updating. It might have been a measure to hide you from the rest of the Magical World,”

“Res Parva forces your brain to dismiss an event as unimportant. Such as, if someone within the spell casts a curse on you, your head would come up with any way to dismiss it as normal,”

Cassiopeia clenched her jaw and removed her hands from Atropos lest she squeeze him to death. She crossed her arms and dug her nails into her skin. Her breathing was becoming heavier, and her vision was swimming. 

She wasn’t ten anymore, she was six, and had just come home from primary school after turning a teacher's wig blue. Vernon and Petunia had been furious. Her uncle had beaten her black and blue, but it was okay, he knew what was best. Petunia had locked her in her cupboard for a week, but it was okay, she was just looking out for her. 

A sob shook her body and Atropos raised his head to be eye level with her. 

“No my speaker, it will be fine, you will be fine. It was not your fault.”

Bloodtooth turned away, to give her privacy and she buried her face in her hands. Atropos continued hissing comforting words to her like a tether to bring her back into the present. Eventually, her sobs petered out and Bloodtooth looked up from where he was shuffling and straightening papers on his desk. 

She scrubbed at her face with her hands, wiping away tears before she sent him a watery smile, “Continue please,”

“We won’t know what the obliviates are towards until they are removed, so I’ll move onto the blocks. The 70% Parseltongue block will not block your ability to talk to snakes, but your ability to perform magic using parseltongue, from what I understand, the blocks put it are rather common for a muggleborn with especially strong magical talents. They are used to maintain the statute of secrecy,”

She nodded and motioned for him to continue, that seemed simple enough.

“The core blocks are still a greater issue. The 20% core block is normal for families that have children that show obvious magic at a young age. These blocks are used to keep a baby and the family from harm from explosive accidental magic.  They are supposed to fade over the course of 2 years but because of the second block put on your core before the first one could fully evaporate, it stayed latched onto your core,”

Anger rose in her chest like a great roaring beast. Albus bloody Dumbledore kept taking from her. Her magic and her will to make her own decisions. 

“The Metamorphmagus block blocks your ability to change your appearance. It was a gift that the Black family had. It has been lost for the past few generations, with resurfacing in the newest generation. This block most likely also follows the line of reasoning of maintaining the statute of secrecy, and then the mail block we discussed earlier. After that it’s just properties. Any questions?”

“Er, at the end it says, ‘Potters split into 2 branches in 1698, still remaining in contact. Main branch in India Secondary branch in Britain. See either family grimoire for more information’. What does that mean?” She asked, her eyebrow scrunched in confusion. 

“The Potters are actually a relatively new addition to Wizarding Britain. They are an old family in India that split into two branches that are now considered two separate families. I believe the families consider themselves to be the same family and by this note it says still in contact.”

So she had a family? Why didn’t anyone else take her in? She felt tears well up in her eyes but she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry again today. “Can you remove the spells and blocks and potions that are on me?”

Bloodtooth nodded slowly, “Usually you would want someone from your own kinds to deal with such a delicate matter,”

Cassiopeia waved a hand, “I don't trust them, but the Goblin Nation has been nothing but kind to me and I think I trust them more than I do the humans.”

Bloodtooth blinked at her in surprise for several moments before he reached a hand into his desk. “...I’ll request a cleansing then,” He wrote a quick note before tossing it into the air, where it burst into flames. She watched the ashes trail from the letter before they winked out of existence. 

They waited for a few minutes, where she spent her time running her fingers over Atropos’s scales. A letter fell out of a burst of flames in front of Bloodtooth and he opened the folded note. 

He stood up and said, “Come with me,” 

She quickly nodded and stood up to follow him, wrapping Atropos over her shoulders as she went. 

Bloodtooth led her through winding halls where she was able to keep no sense of direction until they finally reached a large chamber with several goblins in it. 

“Leave all magical object to the side and lay down in the center of the circle, and change into those robes you will be unconscious for most of the ritual,”

She nodded and removed Atropos from her shoulders, setting him down in the specified area and quickly changing into her robes, leaving her old clothes by Atropos, removing the notice-me-not charm on him. A couple of Goblins blinked at her confused “Is that the only magical item you have on you?”

“Er… yes?”

The goblins stayed silent so she just went to the center of the circle and lie down like she was instructed to. The chanting began and pain overtook her body. She screamed and thrashed but didn’t move from the center of the circle. The pain rose to a crescendo and her world went dark.

She woke up slowly, groggily blinking at the ceiling. She rolled over and fumbled for her glasses on the blurry nightstand that was next to the very comfortable bed. She could hear two others in the room but couldn't tell who they were until she put on her glasses. Bloodtooth was standing there next to another goblin who was wearing stark white robes and looked like a doctor.  “May your gold always flow and your enemies quiver, heiress Potter-Black-Peverell-Slytherin, I am Healer Goldsword,”

So her doctor presumption was correct then. “May your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty, Healer Goldtooth, just Candace,- I mean Cassiopeia is fine,” rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she sat up properly against the pillows. 

“The cleansing ritual went well, and We can happily say that all of the spells and blocks that were on you are now removed,” Bloodtooth said, nodding sharply. Cassiopeia grinned at him before looking around for Atropos.  

“Where is Atropos?” She asked, looking at Bloodtooth and Healer Goldsword.

“Who?” asked Healer Goldsword, tilting her head in confusion.

“My familiar! Where is my snake!” Her words were partially slipping into parseltongue at her distress. She was looking around frantically, not wanting to lose her first friend and companion.

“I am over here, Speaker,” hissed Atropos, who slithered from his hiding spot up onto the bed and into her lap. She immediately sighed in relief and ran her fingers down Atropos’ scales. 

“Such a rarity for a witch to have a familiar at this age. Especially before their the beginning of their education,” Frowned Healer Goldsword, “Although it is not the first to happen,”

“Heiress Peverell, I believe we should head back to my office and discuss your finances,”

Cassiopeia swung her legs over the side of the bed before she looked up, remembering something. “Do you have a mirror? There was a blood glamour and I want to know what I actually look like…”

Healer Goldsword shuffled off for a minute and came back with a simple handheld mirror. Cassiopeia held the mirror in front of her face and her eyes widened in surprise.

Her hair had darkened from a brownish black color to a dark, jet black that made her wild curls stand out more. There was a lock of pure white hair where the jagged lines of her scar reached her hairline. Her green eyes had become hetero-chromatic, one silver, one green. Her face had become slightly more aristocratic looking, becoming sharper. Her skin had stayed a golden color, presumably from her father’s Indian heritage. 

“You look much more like you now Speaker,” 

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, “I guess I do,”

She handed the mirror back to Healer Goldsword and thanked her. She grabbed her transfigured clothes and changed back into them in the bathroom that she was pointed to. Once she was done, Bloodtooth turned on his heel and she followed him back towards his office.

Once they were sitting back in Bloodtooth’s office, he pulled out several small boxes. “These are the heir rings of Houses Black, Peverell, Potter and Slytherin. You are only eligible for your ladyship of House Potter once you turn thirteen and then you may take up the ladyships of the other houses,”

Cassiopeia nodded slowly along to what Bloodtooth was saying, “Why do I have to wear them?”

“They show any other Lords, Ladys and Heirs that you are also an heir and the ring, depending on the enchantments place on it, will protect you,”

“Is there any order that I’m supposed to put them on?”

“Yes, the higher the standing of the house, the closer to your thumb it should be. So for you, the Slytherin and Peverell rings should be on your thumbs, and the Potter and Black rings should be on your pointing finger.” Bloodtooth explained, “The Potter should go after  the Peverell because that’s the house they are descended from,”

Bloodtooth opened the boxes and she reached for the one that had a skeletal horse on it. She pulled the ring out of the box and inspected it. The ring had two bands that were connected by a grayish black diamond that was cut into a rhombus shape. Each of the bands had small diamonds set into the metal. What she assumed was the family crest was pressed into the diamond in the center of the ring. 

“That is the Peverell heir ring,”

She slipped the ring onto her left thumb and as soon as the ring slid into place she gasped. Centuries of magic was washing over her, an overwhelming sense of judgment. She felt like she was being tried for the worthiness of the ring and the family. The magic whispered a final parting of ‘Mors Vincit Omnia’ before the magic receded and settled on her shoulders and she breathed a sigh of relief. The phrase she innately knew was the family motto. The meaning was strange and she didn’t know why it would be tied to her family,Mors Vincit Omnia, death conquers all. 

She gave herself a moment to catch her breath before she reached for the Slytherin ring next. The band was simple, a silver ring with a crest embossed on the front and green emeralds on either side. 

 She slid the ring onto her right thumb and she was once again overcome with magic. This magic felt less oppressing and more looming, intimidating. The magic hissed at her like coils of a snake hunting its prey. The magic slid back with a last hiss of “In manu magica, in gratia magica”. In magic’s hand, in magic’s grace

The hair on her arms raised and she shivered before reaching for the Black ring. The Black ring was the most gaudy. It was a thick band encrusted with diamonds. The family’s crest was in the center, flanked by crescent moons and a small black opal on each side, with small metal stars emerging from the metal. It was connected to a second band that made a point shape below the crest. 

As soon as she slid it in place on her right pointer finger the magic pressed down on her like an angry dragon. The magic was stormy and crackled with energy. She could feel thousands of ancestors, murmurs of arguments before, approval radiated from the magic and it faded with a last word of ‘Toujours Pur, Familia primum’, Always pure, family first.

She reached a shaking hand towards the final ring, overwhelmed with the magic that was swarming around her. The Potter ring was a white gold band with pearls and rubies pressed into the metal. The family crest was carved out of a large ruby in the center of the ring. She plucked the ring out of the box and slipped the ring over her left pointer finger. Compared to the judgmental and oppressing magics of the other families the Potter magic was light and airy. It flowed around her like a bubbling stream welcoming her home. The magic felt rather like a seamstress, bustling around, taking measurements to best decide how to make the garments fit her. 

When the magic faded it left here feeling warm and like she had just come home after a long journey.

Atropos held his head close to the rings and assessed them for a moment before he went back to curling up in her lap. 

“Can we, er, can we discuss my finances now?”

Bloodtooth nodded slowly, “I would only be able to tell you about the Peverell finances, as I am not responsible for the Slytherin, Potter or Black accounts,”

“Can you take over all of my accounts?” Cassiopeia asked nervously, “No one contacted me about my inheritance and it most likely would’ve been the Potter or Black manager’s responsibility,”

Bloodtooth nodded slowly, finger tapping a rhythm on the table, “I have sent you missives over the years, inquiring about your guardian and the possibility of taking up the heirship, but I never received a response,”

“The Peverell finances are in good standing. The vaults have little change in them year to year, except for royalties from inventions, books, patents and other things created by Peverells over the generations. The current assessed value of the Peverells accounts is 155,506,205 galleons, 5,658 sickles, and 36,894 knuts,”

She stared at Bloodtooth, dumbfounded. “Wha- What’s the galleon to pound conversion rate?”

“1 galleon to 5 pounds, so you have approximately 774,421,041 pounds in you accounts, not including the sickles and knuts,”

Cassiopeia sat back in her chair, staring at Bloodtooth. She was bloody rich. And that was only one of her accounts. What did the others hold?

Bloodtooth interlaced his fingers on the desk, “I think we should move on to what you want to do now that the blocks are off your core,”

“Erm, well, I think that we should do some more research into the horcrux thing that you mentioned. Probably find a place for me to stay, and if my parents left a will, we should probably get that read,”

“Very well. I recommend staying at an Inn until we’ve fully gone over the properties. The Peverells properties are old, but the wards are unstable. The Black were always a paranoid bunch, I would recommend one of their properties, but let me finish the overview of the accounts first,”

“Alright,” She nodded, “That sounds reasonable. Although, I don’t know if I want to settle down just yet, I think I want to travel a bit, I’ll probably go camping across Europe,”

Blood tooth pulled out parchment and a quill from his desk and began writing. He turned the paper around towards her so she could see the writing. He pointed to the list, “This is a list of things that you will need and places to get a reasonable price. Pay with the Peverell vault, as the purchases won’t be suspicious by any parties monitoring your other accounts,”

She took the list and looked it over. Her head whipped up to face Bloodtooth again, “How am I supposed to carry all of this? This is enough stuff to fill a whole car!”

“Expansion charms are pricey for the average wix, but are an invaluable resource. A trunk or a bag would suffice for your situation, although I recommend a bag for ease of movement.”

“Alright,” She she said, smiling at Bloodtooth, “Thanks for helping me,”

Bloodtooth gave her a calculating look, “Call me Gornuk. I expect you back here in 3 days time are noon sharp,”

She grinned at him and started to make her way towards the door, “I will, don’t worry Bloo- Gornuk,” 

Cassiopeia reached for the door knob but paused before she could actually open the door. She turned to face Gornuk and smiled sheepishly, “I er, I don’t actually know how to get out of the bank, and I need to pick up money and my parents journals,” 

The goblin let out a bark of laughter and pressed something on his desk. A few moments later the door swung open to show a runner goblin. “The Potter trust Vault where you’ll find your parents journals is 687, and money isn’t needed. Simply ask for a Gringotts receipt, check the amount and press your ring into it while thinking of the vault you want to take it from. In this case you want  to take from 147 because that’s the Peverell vault,”

She nodded in thanks. “May your gold flow and your enemies blood flow faster,” She said, before she turned on her heel and followed the runner goblin into the bank 

“May your enemies quiver and the gold flow of your gold never cease!” He called after her quickly retreating form. 

She followed the runner goblin towards some carts and climbed in. “Vault 687 please,” She smiled at the goblin.

The goblin pulled a lever on the cart and they were off. The cart sped around like a demon and Cassiopeia found herself laughing maniacally. The goblin looked at her strangely but she didn’t care and kept laughing while holding onto her hat. Atropos was hissing up a storm around her shoulders

When the cart finally came to a stop the goblin turned to her and said, “Most wix are not fond of the carts, I believe you must be an exception,”

She laughed brightly, head thrown back alight with adrenaline. “How could they not be fond of that! That’s the most fun I’ve had in my whole life!”

She climbed out of the cart shaking her head and came up to the vault. The goblin came up behind her and with the key in hand pressed it to the vault. The door swung open and she wandered inside. 

The vault was large and piles high with thousands of galleons. For the sake of her salinity she ignored the extremely large pile of coins and spotted a couple of trunks towards the back. 

Picking her way over, the trunks came into clearer view. There were three of them, all in different conditions. She sat criss-cross in front of them and pulled one of them closer to her. 

She ran her fingers over the initials on the worn leather trunk. J.F.P. James Fleamont Potter. She opened the trunk carefully and found there wasn’t much inside. Mainly journals, some jumpers, a shelf phials, one containing red liquid, the rest all a clear substance and on top of it all, a letter. 

She reached and carefully pulled out the letter. She slid her finger under the opening and unfolded the parchment. 

My Dearest Mischief , 

I’m writing this letter because I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to survive. We’ve gone into hiding with you but Lily’s divination is showing bad results. Regulus told us about some horrible magic that Voldemort did. He said that Voldemort used soul magic to split his soul so he couldn’t die. We’re Peverells Mischief, we know you can’t cheat death. Regulus has been in and out of the house scouring the country for them because he’s the only one who the Order doesn’t know lives here. 

Enough of this dark stuff. I love you Prongslet. You may have been an accident, but your birth was the happiest day of your Mums, Papa’s and I’s life. If we die before we  can raise you, before the war is won and before we can give you a sibling, we’ve all left a phial of blood, there should be enough for two siblings if you stretch it enough. 

I hope you’ll be able to be raised by your godparents, but things don’t always work out the way we want it to. We love you so much and even if we’re not physically there we’re there in spirit. 

I want to warn you Mischief, that you’re going to have a lot of responsibility in the future. Regulus is from the main line of the Blacks, and as his kid, you’re the Black heir. You're my only kid, so you're also the Potter and Peverell heir. Lils has been talking to snakes her whole life, and from that one time she brought a snake into the house, so can you. We’re looking into the possibility of her being a Slytherin, but we can barely leave the house, so we have no proof. That’s a lot of pressure on you, I know, but all of your godparents can help you,

I love you so much

Your father, Prongs. 

Her hands were shaking making the letter hard to read. Tear tracks were sliding down her face. She traced the letters of the address My Dearest Mischief. A nickname? 

Teardrops fell onto the paper and she quickly moved the letter away from her to keep it from soiling. Cassiopeia buried her face in her hands and let herself cry. Atropos wrapped himself around her in silent support. 

She sat in front of her parents' trunks and mourned the loss of her parents. 

When the tears had finally subsided she reached for one of the jumpers in her fathers trunk. 

She pulled off her dress and tugged the maroon jumper over her shoulders. She focused her writhing magic towards the dress and cloak that she had transfigured from Dudley’s off casts. She took the dress and envisioned what she wanted it to be. She closed her eyes and felt the magic pass from her to the garment. When she opened her eyes, instead of the summery dress, she held an overall dress with a pleated skirt. She pulled the newly transfigured dress over the sweater and reached for the cloak. 

Closer her eyes she imagined the cloak shrinking to a leather belt. The magic came from her fingertips and moved into the fabric of the cloak. The smooth fabric became harder and more structured, and when she finally opened her eyes, there was a belt instead of a cloak. She wrapped the belt around her waist and reached for the next trunk. It was a warm cherry, with flowers and runes carved into it, and paintings all over. 

When she pulled the lid open, the trunk was different from her fathers. On the inside of the lid there was a dial that had 4 different options. Wardrobe, Equipment, Library, Personal. The dial was currently pointing to the wardrobe section, obviously showing off her mothers old clothes and jewelry. Her eyes laid to rest on the large amount of jewelry that her mother had collected. 

She grabbed her favorites and carefully put them on. She had grabbed a couple rings, of various styles, and some bracelets. There was a locket, put in a place of honor on the small shelf where the jewelry was. She clicked it open and studied the pictures inside. 

One one side was a picture of her mother and 3 other girls. The four of them were laughing and holding onto each other for support. There was a black girl with curly hair that had her arm around her mother’s waist. Another blonde girl was hanging off of the last girl, who had a buzz cut. She had no idea who these people were. Her mothers friends?

The other picture was a picture of what she assumed was her parents. Her fathers were leaning in and were kissing each of her mother’s cheeks. She slipped the chain around her neck and shut the locket, trying in vain not to cry.

She turned the dial to equipment and found what must be her mother’s school things. Turning the dial again she found her mothers collection of books. There were at least twenty thick books in the collection and she immediately wanted to read all of them, but she resisted the temptation and moved onto the personal compartment. The personal compartment was similar to what she had found in her father’s trunk. Journals, a shelf of phials, two silk bags and on top of it all, a letter. 

She reached for the letter first and slid her thumb under the lip of the envelope to open it. She pulled the letter out of the envelope and read. 

My lovely Flower,

I’m writing this letter with the hopes that I’ll be able to burn it and never think of this again. I know that the best doesn’t always happen, but that’s what this letter is for. You are loved. Nothing will ever change that. You are our daughter and not even a veil between life and death could stop that. I remember when we first found out about my pregnancy with you, Regulus and I were furious with your father, for having a child in war time is a terrible decision. Nonetheless, I am overjoyed that you were the result, even if the timing was unfortunate. I love you so much. 

All three of us left vials of blood for siblings, if we don’t survive and you want them. We’ve also left memories, of you, of us, of our families. The three of us divided up what we were going to talk to you about and James called the blood and inheritance, I claimed the memories, and other miscellaneous things, Regulus, to honor his proclamation that he was going to spoil you rotten, got gifts. 

I mentioned the memories, now onto other things. Your name. In case no one explained to you, your name was incredibly difficult to choose. Regulus and I both wanted to  honor our family’s traditions, even if we weren’t in great standing with the rest of our family members. James didn’t particularly care either way, he was happy, as long as we were happy. 

It took quite an extensive amount of research into both flowers and stars before we finally found one that fit. Cassiopeia, Cassie or Cass for short (not that any of us honored those nicknames). Your Dad called you Mischief because of an absolutely frustrating thing that he said after you were born (ask Padfoot or Mooney about it), I called you Flower, for obvious reasons and your Papa, called you Little Star. Cassiopeia is a flower that has use in many strengthening, and wit-sharpening potions. The constellation is named after a woman of exceptional beauty. When we chose this name we hoped you embody all of the qualities, but still be your own person. 

No matter what anyone tells you, live your life how you want. Don’t let anyone tell you how to be you.

I love you so much, 

Mum

P.S, I’m not biased or anything, but use my trunk for your school things. It’s feather light and has shrinking runes that last much longer than the trunks that you buy in stores. I did them myself. 

Tears were charging down her face again and she roughly wiped at her face with her sleeve. She didn’t want to cry again, she’d done too much of that today. Atropos rose up and licked her face in an attempt to cheer her up. 

Cassie laughed through her tears and tried to push him away from her face. By the time she got him to stop licking her face, Atropos had succeeded in cheering her up and she was giggling, hands clutched around her stomach. 

She wiped away the last of her tears and reached for the last trunk, her Papa’s. Based on her mother’s letter, she assumed that would be what she would call him. The trunk was dark leather, almost black with the initials R.A.B embossed on the lid. 

Cassiopeia pushed the lid open and leaned over to see what was inside. The trunk, like her mother's, had a dial that was able to show multiple compartments. The dial was pointing to the wardrobe. 

Her Papa also had a jewelry dish, several rings and necklaces in the bowl. She picked through them, slipping some of them onto her finger and a necklace with a silver chain that had a constellation on it. She skipped the equipment and library and moved straight onto the personal. 

The personal section was very different from her Mum and Dad’s sections. The compartment had a shelf of vials, but most of the compartment was taken up with wrapped gifts, and on top of it, a letter. She valiantly tried to ignore the presents and reached for the letter first. Tearing the envelope open she read the note. 

My darling Little Star, 

You’re just a baby right now, barely able to talk, but I don’t think that anything could outshine you. I’m so incredibly proud of you, over any small thing. With my work, I have no illusions about my chances of survival, but one can hope. I keep fighting because I want to see you grow up, to give you the chance of a childhood that I never had. The Blacks have always had a more hands on, wand-happy approach to child-rearing, but I hope to change that. I don’t want you to grow up in pain like I did. I hope with all of my heart that you know that we love you, no strings attached, every single step of the way.

The Blacks’ family motto is Toujours Pur, Familia primum, and the family has tended to shorten it to only Toujours Pur, but I always believed in the second. Familia primum, family first. You are always at the forefront of my thoughts, in everything that  I do, I want you to live your life. You are your own person Cassiopeia. Not me, your mother or your father. Don’t let anyone tell you how you are supposed to act, or how you're supposed to feel. I fell into the trap of letting my family’s past control my actions. Please Little Star, don’t do the same. 

We have left you presents and letters for every year until your 100. We each left one for each of your birthdays. Starting from your 11th year, there will be special gifts. There’s an old magical tradition of giving a daughter of the family something every year from her 11th birthday till her 17th. These are called ‘proofs’ ; sometimes they are elongated to ‘proofs of honor’ or ‘proofs of magic’. They are truly a way to show pride in their daughters. The proofs are usually given by the mother, or sometimes the head of house. Lily picked out your proofs and she left a letter with each, explaining why she chose it. 

Even if we’re not there to watch you grow, we hope you know we love you. You are the best thing to ever happen to us and no war or Death Eater is going to change that. You are going to grow to be a fantastic woman, that will be able to be what she wants. Now, I don’t want to see you in the afterlife for at very least 100 years.  Don’t let the family’s expectations get to you. Marry who you want, boy or girl. Have kids if you want them, be a professional quidditch player, I don’t care. Be you, and live your life. And have fun. 

I love you, so, so much,

Papa

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and tried not to sob, “Why is not crying so hard?”

“Because you’ve been used to being unloved your whole life and now you have physical proof that people did love you,”

“You’re not helping Atropos,” She sobbed, no longer able to slow the tears. She cried into her hands, curled into a ball on the stone floor, surrounded by tangible memories of love from her parents. 

When she was finally done crying she had a splitting headache. With the amount of crying she had done, she wasn’t surprised. Cassie wiped away the rest of her tears and stood. 

She looked at the three trunks and hummed to herself. Running her fingers along the lid of her mother’s trunk, she looked for the shrinking rune. When her finger passed over a rune the trunk immediately began to shrink and she jumped back in surprise.

“Bloody hell! I guess that’s the rune I was looking for,” 

She picked up the now granola bar sized trunk and found the shrinking rune again. The trunk began to grow again and she threw it onto the ground quickly before it got too heavy. 

She began loading the contents of the other two trunks into her mother’s trunk. She found another shrinking rune on the top of her Papa’s trunk, so in order to save herself the work she just hit the rune and shoved it in her pocket. 

Once she had collected all that she wanted from the vault she turned on her heel and strode out to the waiting cart. 

The ride up was just as exhilarating as the ride down and she found herself laughing maniacally again. 

She stumbled her way into the main hall of Gringotts, and made her way towards the exit. 

Chapter Text

Cassieopia strode down the street, glancing around for an alleyway that she could pause and look at her list in. Finally spotting one she quickly made her way towards it, and leaned against the wall.

She glanced towards her list and took note of the things on it.

The List
Expanded storage bag (living quarters extension) - Goyle’s Goods and Paraphernalia
Etiquette books - Flourish and Blotts & Obscurus Books
Groceries - Dagian Way
Proper clothes - Twilfit and Tattings
Snake care - Magical Menagerie

She ran her eyes down the list repeatedly, wondering about how she was going to find these shops. Her hand absentmindedly found Atropos, who was wrapped around her shoulders and again had a Notice-Me-Not Charm on him.

“Any ideas on how to find these shops? I think I might just have to wander around until I find them,”

“Silly Speaker, use your new ability,” Atropos hissed, “What did you call it? Read minds?”

“Reading minds,” she responded, while fidgeting with the ribbon of her hat. She’d forgotten about that. She’d been unknowingly keeping it in check to make sure she didn’t get overwhelmed again.

“Use it and find out if anyone knows where the shop is!!”

Cassieopia pursed her lips and glanced out of the alleyway before quickly ducking back in. She closed her eyes and slowly released the hold that she had on her magic.

At first, it was fine. There was no overflow of information, but as soon as she let go of her breath, the wave hit her. The thoughts of all the shoppers crashed over her like a riptide current dragging her out to sea. The icy cold water of information clawed at her skin from the inside out and she gasped for breath like she was drowning.

Her eyes shot open, but unseeing. Her vision was blurry and she couldn’t make out anything besides rough shapes around her. She let out a strangled cry and tears ran down her face.

A sharp sting of pain came from her hand and her eyes focused. She stared at Atropos, his fangs lodged into the space between her index finger and her thumb.

“What the fuck Atropos!” her previous panic momentarily forgotten.

Atropos removed his fangs from her hand and tilted his head in confusion, “What is a fuck?”

Cassieopia spluttered and struggled to find and answer, still staring at her rapidly healing hand. “Nevermind that! Why did you bite me!”

“You were panicking and I needed to establish contact through our familiar bond.”

Atropos said this all as if it was perfectly understandable. Cassieopia just stared at him blankly with a concerned expression on her face.

“Bloody snakes,” she muttered, shaking her hand to get rid of the remaining pain. Her head was still pounding and she could hear the thoughts of everyone in the alley.

“Focus, skim through the thoughts for Goyle’s Goods and Paraphernalia, that’s the shop for the bag. Look for that first,”

Cassieopia closed her eyes and slumped back against the wall. She just sat there for a moment resting, before she retreated into the thoughts of other people, searching for what she was looking for.

The information was overwhelming,  but not to the point where she couldn’t think. She took a deep breath and sifted through the thoughts. There were mentions of shops, what people were buying, opinions on people, and some things that she definitely didn’t want to hear as a ten year old.

Finally she’d finally found a location. She quickly memorized it and dismissed the thoughts of other people. She took a moment to herself, her thoughts and headspace only her own, before she hefted Atropos back onto her shoulders, made sure the notice-me-not was in place and left the alleyway.

She strode her way confidently through the streets, eyes constantly darting from shop to shop, looking for landmarks recognised from other people’s thoughts. When she finally reached the shop that she was looking for, it was rather anticlimactic.

The building wasn’t very interesting, just a single display off the side of the door showing a trunk and some information about it. She opened the door and stepped inside.

The bell jingled when entered the store and she looked around the piles of trunks and bags. The store was slightly dusty and cluttered like a maze. She wove her way around the large mounds, which seemed to be sorted, but she couldn’t figure out how.

“Why hello there,” said a voice behind her.

She shrieked and whipped around to face a balding man with olive skin and smile wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He chuckled at her surprise and Cassieopia smiled sheepishly.

“I’m looking for a bag, er and expanded one?”

The man hummed and motioned for her to follow him, “I’m Curtis Goyle, I own the shop. Any particular type of bag you’re looking for?”

“Something that I can travel with. Possibly one with a flat of some kind?”

“Very doable, but expensive, do you have the coin to pay for such a purchase?”

She thought back to the large piles of coins in just her trust vault alone. “Yeah… Yeah I can pay”

The shop owner gave her a look but turned around and led her through the stacks anyways. He stopped in front of a large pile of bags, and took out his wand. With a wordless flick of his wand a leather satchel came zooming into his hand.

He held it out to her, “Travel bag with the flat expansion, automatic summoning, featherlight and general expansion charms,”

“Automatic summoning?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “You don’t have a wand yet, you don’t look old enough for one, so you're gonna need a way to summon things from the expanded bag.”

“Makes sense, how much?”

“1000 galleon base price with the flat charms it’s 8,000 galleons 4 sickles 2 knuts”

She quickly did the math in her head, 5 pounds to a galleon, was 40,000 pounds! That was an incredibly expensive bag. “Can I get a Gringotts receipt?”

Goyle nodded like this was no strange request and made his way to the register and pulled something out from inside it. He slid a piece of parchment across the crowded table and she looked at the price like Gornuk had told her to. Finding the price correct she pressed her Peverell signet ring into the paper and focused on vault 147.

The ring became warm and the black ink on the paper became purple. Goyle hummed in satisfaction and she took her bag and waved goodbye to the man before she quickly left the store.

“I think that went rather well,”

“You didn’t go into the bag Speaker, he could be lying to you,”

”Shit, I really should’ve done that,”

“Shit?” Atropos repeated.

“Don’t repeat that,” she hissed quickly, “Gotta find a place to test it out,”

Cassiopeia found another offshoot of the main alley and quickly ducked into it. She set the bag down and flipped it open, “Do I just jump in..?”

“Cast a notice-me-not on us!” That was a good idea. She quickly waved her hand over her and Atropos the familiar spell coming easier without any blocks on her core. Her magic settled like a small bubble around her.

Taking a breath she hoped for the best and stepped into the bag.

She stumbled when her foot hit nothing and she fell forward in the bag. Her body fell slowly and landed lightly on a hardwood floor. Atropos hissed his distaste and she pushed herself to standing.

When she looked around it was nothing like she expected. When Mr. Goyle had said ‘flat expansion’, she was expecting a bedroom, a bare bones bathroom, and maybe if she was lucky a kitchenette.

Her mouth hung open like a gaping fish. She was standing in an open room, with a decent sized kitchen off to her left. Straight in front of her led to an open doorway. Forcefully shaking away her amazement she strode towards the open door.

She stepped through the threshold to what must be the bedroom. It was absent of any furniture, but she didn’t see any other purpose for the room. To the left were two doors. After staring at them for a moment she chose the one on the right and stepped inside.

It was a small walk-in closet, with empty racks and shelves on the blank walls. Not finding much of interest she left the closet and opened the other door. The other door was a bathroom. The bathroom was about the size that the Dursleys had and was rather simple. It had a sink, toilet, shower and a linen closet. There was nothing novel about the bathroom, or the entire flat for that matter, it was empty of furniture and it lacked any life besides the hum of magic from the expansion. But it was hers. No one could take this away from her and make her live like she had at the Dursleys again.

She grinned triumphantly and practically skipped back into the main room.

Then she realized a problem. She had absolutely no idea how to get out.
—-----------------

When she had finally figured out how to leave the bag, (a bit of really cool magic where she stood in the entrance spot and thought really hard about wanting to get out), she quickly picked up her bag and pulled out her list again.

Etiquette books. She stepped out of the alcove she was hidden in a found Flourish and Blotts standing tall and proud right across the street. She grinned at her luck and happily skipped across the bustling street to the bookshop.

The inside was dusty, but spectacular. The only lighting in the store was from the windows and the shelves were piled high with books on all subjects. There were sliding ladders to reach the top shelves and labels on the cases to tell what they contained. There were worn carpets on the floor, showing age and how much business the shop had gotten.

Cassiopeia swiped a basket from the stack by the entrance and let her eyes trail over the shelves looking for any topics that interested her. The basket was quickly being filled up by the many books that she placed in it, yet it never got any heavier. She had yet to find the etiquette section and with very little room left in her basket she had to leave the other topics behind.

Cassie looked mournfully at all the books that interested her and began to comb the store for any mentions of etiquette.

After searching almost the entire store she finally found the section that she was looking for. Right next to the primers for new children to the magical world. She grabbed a few of those too before scanning the etiquette section.

There weren’t many books. Presumably this wasn;t a very popular subject because the people who followed it were raised with this stuff and other people never really took interest. She grabbed as many as she could fit in her basket and began to wander the store looking for the register.

When she finally found it, she pushed her surprisingly light basket across the counter towards the ancient man standing behind it.

“You sure you can afford this missy? Where are your parents?” He asked, looking down at her over the top of his glasses, which were sliding down his nose. He gave her a look that clearly showed that he didn't think a girl of her age could ever be independent enough to go to a store on her own.

“Even though it’s none of your business, I’ll have you know that I am in perfectly well standing to purchase these books, and where my parents are is none of your concern,”

The man wrinkled his nose at her but began to ring up her purchases. With a sour look on his face, he transferred all of her books from the basket into a bag and handed it over to her. “That’ll be 66 galleons and 3 sickles,” he said flatly

“Can I get a Gringotts receipt?”

The man looked at her unimpressed and pulled something out from behind the counter and handed it over to her. She quickly searched for the amount that he was charging her, just like Gornuk had told her to. Once she had found it she pressed her ring into the parchment and thought of vault 147.

As soon as she could, she grabbed the bag, turned on her heel and left. Cassiopeia stepped out into the bustling street of Diagon Alley and strode back to the alcove that she had hidden in before.

Pressing herself against the wall, she opened her expanded satchel and slid in her bag from Flourish & Blotts. The weight disappeared immediately and she wondered where the books would land. Remembering the automatic summoning tool that Mr. Goyle had said was on it, she reached inside and thought about the bag of books.

The weight retired into her hand and she stumbled, not expecting the weight. Cassie dropped the bag and it disappeared again. Shaking off her surprise she took out her list. Dagian Way?

“Atropos, have you seen any signs for a Dagian Way?”

“Yes, back toward the bank,” Atropos said, doing his best to grin at her with the facial structure of a snake. What it ended up as was closer to a bearing of fangs that would look more dangerous if she couldn’t sense his excitement.

She felt bad that she wasn’t able to talk to him as much with all the people around, but he seemed to know that staying silent would be better.

Before she left the alcove Cassie checked to make sure that the notice-me-not was in place on Atropos before she stepped out into the oppressive magic of the alley.

Cassiopeia wandered the street, slowly making her way towards the bank, searching any sign for a mention of Dagian Way.

“There speaker!”
Atropos was jabbing his tail at a sign and she quickly turned to see. There was a street sign with Dagian Way printed in bold letters. She changed her directions and glanced around at the new street.

This street seemed to be focused on more food and crafts than Diagon Alley was. It was less busy and the magic was less a beehive and more like a forest. Everything moved slower, more intentional. The street was still active, but people were taking their time.

The street was lined with vendors of fruits, vegetables, and sweets. It reminded her of a spread that she’d seen in one of Petunia’s magazines. A farmers market if she remembered correctly.

Cassiopeia started to wander around the food stalls, wondering what food she should make. She located a food stall with some good looking vegetables and made her way over.

She picked out a large selection, and quickly paid before slipping the bag of vegetables into her satchel. She continued buying food until she had enough to sustain herself for around 2 weeks if she ate carefully.

Cassie walked back towards Diagon alley and pulled out her list. She’d taken care of the bag, books and groceries, now all that was left was clothes and things for Atropos.

It would take less time to get things for Atropos first. Now she just had to figure out how to find the shop. She already had a headache from being around the magic of the alley. She didn’t want to make it worse by opening the wave of other people's thoughts just to find a simple pet store. She resigned herself to roaming around Diagon alley until she found the Magical Menagerie.

She passed by a multitude of shops before she finally found the one that she was looking for. The sun was high in the sky, her stomach was growling and Atropos was making his hunger known. The heat was made worse by the crush of people laughing their way down the street.

Stepping into the shop was like a breath of fresh air. The shop was freezing compared to the outside. There were animals and care things all around and she ambled along the shelves looking for anything to do with snakes.

She had gone deep into the shelves before she found anything relating to snakes. There were a total of 4 snakes in the shop hissing their displeasure at being enclosed and demanding more food.

“I am your prince! Bow down to me!”

She glanced at the snake curiously, “You’re a royal snake?”

“Yes! What else am I supposed to be Speaker? They feed me and I am in a place of high honor!”

She didn’t know that snakes could be that haughty. Although the snake was placed on the highest shelf, but going off of the rest of the snakes she thought that might be just because they didn't like him.

She turned away laughing slightly and continued looking at snake care items. She ended up getting him some live mice, some vitamins and crickets.

Cassie checked out quickly and left the humid store. The heat of the outside was oppressing but less humid than it was inside the store.

She meandered down the street after putting her purchases away in her bag looking for a place to eat. At first there wasn’t anything interesting and he thought she might have to go back to the pub to find anything to eat, but then a small cafe came into her sight line and she quickly set on a path towards it.

The worn sign to the cafe hung above the door and was swaying slightly in the summer heat. the sign read Blossom House Cafe, and had flower designs on the borders in fading, chipped paint.

A bell chimed when she stepped through the door and the person at the register smiled at her, “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

She glanced up at the menu, “The turkey and cheese sandwich please,” Hopefully she would be able to keep it down.

“For here or to go?”

”Er, here please,”

”That’ll be out in a couple minutes, your total is 2 sickles, take a seat at any table,”

”Can I get a Gringotts receipt, please,?”

The woman smiled at her and pulled one out from behind the register and slid it across the counters. She pressed her ring into the parchment after checking the total.

The woman turned away from her and Cassie glanced around to try and find a table. She chose a small 2 person table that was by the window. She startled when she saw her reflection.

Her hair was red. What the hell? When did it change? Was it the metamorphmagus thing that Gornuk had said? Just as she thought about it her hair darkened to its usual inky black and she internally freaked out.

No! Go back to the red! Her hair brightened again and she looked around nervously checking if anybody had seen. Nobody was even looking in her direction. Nerves jumped in her stomach and she took a deep breath before burying her face in her arms on the table.

A plate was set down in front of her and she glanced up at the woman. “Here’s your sandwich love,” she said kindly before turning on her heel and walking back.

Cassiopeia scarfed down the sandwich, not realizing how hungry she was until there was food in front of her. She fed a small bit of the turkey to Atropos but he made his displeasure clear, “I do not eat this turkey, the only turkey I eat is one I caught,”

She laughed softly before returning to eat her food.

Cassiopeia deeply regretted the food. She was queasy, her hands were shaking and her legs were weak. She pressed on through the alleyway towards where she’d seen a sign for Twilfitt & Tattings.

She quickly ducked into an alleyway to puke her guts out, before quickly stumbling back onto the street, wiping at her mouth.

Atropos was fussing over her like a mother hen, but she ignored his protests and entered the store.
The temperature difference between the outside and Twillfit & Tattings was severe. The dry cold washed over her like a soothing blanket and she let out a sigh of relief.

A bell clanged pleasantly when the door opened and a well dressed man strode out of the back. “Happy day! May the Great Mother bless you!” He called to her, swerving out of the way of stacks of fabrics.

She blinked in surprise, never having heard the greeting before, “Er, happy day. Great Mother bless you…” She said hesitantly, waiting to be scolded.
“Now, young miss…” He trailed off, waiting expectantly for her name.

She had a moment of panic questioning which name she could say. Potter was out. The barman’s reaction when asking her if she was ‘Cassie Potter’ wasn’t something that she wanted this man to have. She could just go with Black or Peverell.

Cassiopeia suspected that Evans wouldn’t reach a kind reception, Peverell wasn’t well known, but she’d heard Black mentioned once or twice.

“Heiress Cassiopeia Peverell” A momentary expression of shock overtook his face before she covered it.

“Well met, Heiress Peverell, I am Master Tattings.” He took her and kissed it. She swallowed trying to figure out what to do next.

“Well met, Master Tattings”

“May I ask what you came in for today?” He cheerfully asked, while ushering her to a dressing stand off to the side.

“A full wardrobe, please,” She said, trying not to stutter.

“Ah, such a purchase will not be for the faint of wallet, but I won’t doubt you. What styles are you looking for?”

“Show me my options,” She responded, desperately trying not to show that she had no idea what was going on.

“Ah, well I believe that we should start with the basics and work our way up to the details. Now all the clothes that I sell are tailored to the person, so we’ll decide on the clothes and I’ll measure you after,”

Master Tatting led her off to a side room that was filled with clothes of all kinds being displayed on mannequins and all sorts of accessories.

He led her around the room, pointing at styles and cuts of clothes before turning to her and asking her opinion. She found several that she liked and Master Tatting had a floating notepad and quill take notes on her answers.

He then led her back to the main room and held fabrics up to her, asking her opinion before moving onto the next fabric. He then ushered her up to the platform and took her measurements.

She went wild with the accessories, trying to keep in mind that she had her parents jewelry, but she was finally able to have things for herself.

By the time she paid and left the store with the knowledge that her clothes would be ready in 3 days the sun was setting. She trudged her way back towards The Blue Hyacinth up the stairs and collapsed on her bed.

She only vaguely noticed Atropos slithering out from underneath her sweater and curling up near chest as well as her transfigured clothes shifting back to their previous state.

Chapter Text

Cassiopia spent the next 2 days wandering around the alley aimlessly. 

She did whatever she felt like. It was a novel feeling, to do whatever she wanted, make her own decisions. Atropos was her permanent companion, staying curled around her waist or shoulders, giving her advice and opinions in a language only she could understand. 

Cassiopeia went through her parents' trunks more. She stole some of their clothes while waiting for her new ones from Twillfit & Tattings . 

She explored every inch of the alleys that she’d learned were collectively called celestial plaza that she could reach in the next three days. 

In Diagon Alley she spent most of her time in the Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor and the several books shops in the alley. She avoided Flourish and Blotts like the plague. As much as she loved the contents of the store, the one time she’d been back to get more books, another employee had doubted her ability to buy the books and even refused to let her buy some of them because they were ‘above her level’. 

Bloody wizards.

She’d found other streets that crossed or ran parallel with Diagon alley. She’d gone into Dagian way for groceries, but upon further exploration she’d found more than just a farmers market. There were the majority of restaurants, plant shops, bakeries, home essential shops and tea shops. She spent a fair bit of time in the plant shop alone, looking for plants to decorate her new bag flat with. She’d found some magical plants, some not and altogether her flat now looked a lot homier.

Doxian Street was interesting too. The magic was unlike the beehive of Diagon Alley, or the slow moving harmony of Dagian Way, the magic of Doxian Street was a pushing and pulling motion. Always moving, but waxing and waning like the moon phases in minutes. It wasn’t like the magic was disappearing and reappearing, but rather like it was playing a game of hide and seek. It had a sense of childlike creativity and wonder. Like it was permanently a child who had just found their favorite crayon. 

Most of the shops of the alley were trade based. Artisans, lawyers, blacksmiths, furniture and instruments. She spent a significant amount of time at Doxian Street. She shopped for furniture and things for her flat, bought pretty much anything that interested her. She bought 2 daggers, promising herself that she’d learn how. 

Once while she was wandering Doxian Street she found another sign. Knockturn Alley. She peeked into the Alley and she saw many people hurrying around with traveling cloaks pulled low over their faces. 

She quickly rushed back into her room at the Blue Hyacinth and rooted around in her Papa’s trunk for a traveling cloak that she’d seen. 

She found the heavy material and threw it over her shoulders, and did the clasp on the front. She practically ran through Diagon Alley into Doxian Street and further into the entrance to Knockturn Alley. 

She paused and threw the hood of the cloak over her head, pulling it low over her face. She strode into the alley, trying to maintain the same presence that the other people did. Confident, acting like they belonged here. 

Atropos curled tighter from where he was hidden around her waist. 

Cassiopeia kept her hand close to her newly bought daggers. Without them, she would be completely defenseless. The sun was high in the sky, but the alley was still gloomy. The buildings were clean, but dark colors, advertising things she couldn’t discern in different languages.

The magic was dark and looming, almost as physical presence. It was slow moving, but it gave her a sense of warning. Like it was watching her. 

A bookstore was on her right. She paused in front of it and after a moment's contemplation, stepped over the threshold. Walking into the shop was… strange. There was some sort of magic that felt like it was testing her. Or more like just taking a reading. 

The clerk glanced up at her once, before going back to… whatever she was doing. Cassiopeia pulled a basket out of the stack and began browsing. 

The books were incredibly different from the ones that she found in Obscurus books. If the books that she found in Obscurus were obscure, this was a whole other level. There were tomes that she was sure were illegal. 

The Origins and Applications of Parselmagic caught her eye. She slid the book off of the shelf and inspected it. The cover was made from a worn linen with embossed lettering on the front. The writing inside was handwritten and even with her limited knowledge of book binding, she could tell it was old. 

She grabbed the books that piqued her interest and when she finally decided she had enough she had at least 15 books in her basket.

She set the basket down in front of the clerk silently. The clerk slid her work to the side and began to ring up her purchases. In the silence of the store, the books hitting the countertop was deafening. 

The clerk paused when she got to The Origins and Applications of Parselmagic. 

“This is a dead language ya’know” She said, “Not even sure which one, but no one can read it nowadays, not sure why we keep it around” 

Cassiopeia clanced at the embossed lettering. Now that she looked at it. It wasn’t English. It never was, she’d just assumed. The language was made of small squiggles and dots, but yet she knew exactly what it said. 

“Parseltongue” Atropos hissed, so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear him.

“Are you going to let me buy it or not?” Cassiopeia said, trying to sound as haughty and self righteous as possible, even raising an eyebrow for effect. (even in the store clerk couldn’t see)

The clerk looked down and calculated her total with the book included. 

“Gringotts receipt, or coin?” The clerk asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Cassie frowned at the clerks reaction, confused “Receipt please,”

The clerk's hands quivered as she pulled out the slip from behind the counter and slid it over. Unnerved, Cassiopeia finished the transaction as fast as possible before sweeping out of the store, purchases in hand trying not to seem like she was fleeing. 

People avoided her like the plague on the street, putting their heads down when she got near them. Someone even crossed the street to get away from her. 

“Atropos, what the fuck is going on?” She hissed. 

“You’re letting your magic out” Atropos answered, disgruntled. 

She nearly smacked herself on the face. She’d learned through the muggleborn primers for the wizarding world that wandless magic like she was doing was extremely rare, and from her guesses, probably matured her magical core past most people her age. 

Her letting out her magic must be incredibly weird for other people to experience, that was probably why they kept avoiding her. 

—---------------

She kept exploring Knockturn further for the next day and a half that she had before she had to meet at Gringotts. 

Cassiopeia had already collected her clothing order from Twillfit & Tattings, and was extremely happy with her clothes. She mixed her own wardrobe (not hand me down, never hand me downs again) seamlessly with some of her parent’s clothes. Her Papa’s clothes were the closest to fitting her, but even having a small bit of her parents with her felt like home. 

When the time finally came to meet with Gornuk, she left 10 minutes early to get to the bank on time. 

She greeted the guard goblins at the front door and made her way to a teller. Reading the nameplate,she addressed the goblin, “Good day Teller Diamondclaw, may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty, I have an appointment with Bloodtooth” 

Diamondclaw pressed something on his desk and a runner goblin appeared at the side of the desk. The goblin took off again before she had the chance to greet him and she followed. 

She was led to the Peverell account managers office again, and she opened the familiar door. Gornuk was waiting at his desk and he sneered at her when she walked into the room. She was beginning to understand that was the equivalent to a goblin smile. 

She took a seat at the other side of the desk and waited for him to start. 

“Let me just say this before we begin,” He said, “My wife was very happy with my sudden promotion to 4 prominent accounts”

Cassie smothered a laugh and grinned at Gornuk. 

“But onto more serious business, there are issues in all but the Peverell accounts,” 

Cassiopeia quickling became more serious, focused on what Gornuk was saying. 

“Both the Potter and Black accounts show evidence of tampering by the account manager, or manipulation of the accounts and compliance by the account manager. The Black finances are in better standing than the Potter’s as I believe that a certain old wizard with too many names had less access.”

She suppressed a smirk and let Gornuk continue. 

“The Potter finances have been heavily messed with, coins and artifacts going into other vaults and people that shouldn’t have access.”

She scowled and clenched her fist, “Is there anything we can do to get them back?”

Gornuk grinned menacingly, “I’ve already begun the process. I’ve reported this incident with one wizard to my King and we have launched a bank wide audit that can also act as cover to the new management of the Potter and Black accounts,” 

She finally relaxed, a smirk playing across her face. 

“The Slytherin accounts have an incredibly different problem. There is a portion of the account left to the Hogwarts fund only.” Gornuk started. “It is the only part of the account that still has more than 10 galleons in it,” 

“The previous owners of the account, the Gaunts, were believed to be the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and they squandered the whole fortune” 

Cassiopeia frowned, “Can you build it back up with investments?”

“It would take very long to build up a buffer and then invest, perhaps it would take my entire lifetime, which is nearly 2 times longer than a human wix lifespan to rebuild the account to its former glory,”

“No,” She said, “Don’t use a buffer. Invest every last knut in whatever you think will do well, I’m leaving this account entirely up to you, go wild” 

Gornuk looked at her in momentary shock before he cleared his throat. “I don’t believe this has ever happened before, let alone for such a prestigious family,” Gornuk slid the Slytherin vault ledgers to the side of his desk, as if he was trying not to tempt himself. 

“I’m going to be traveling for a while, I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I’ll check in from time  to time,” 

Gronuk pulled a leather bound book from underneath the table and slid it across the desk towards her, “This is a communication journal. Write in it and I’ll get the message. Come visit me and my wife, she wishes to tell you more stories about your mother,” 

Cassie felt tears come to her eyes and she grinned brightly. “Thank you Gornuk, I’ll keep in touch” 

He sneered back at her softly (goblin smiles were weird)  

“May your gold flow and your enemies blood flow faster Gornuk.” 

“May your enemies quiver and the flow of your gold never cease Cassiopeia.”

She gave him one last smile before she left the bank, the communication journal clutched firmly in her hand. 

—---------------

The thing about traveling was that it was pretty hard to leave Britain without a passport. That was her first business. 

She had paid for her room at the Blue Hyacinth (much to Katrina's refusal) and set out into muggle London after making sure she had everything from her room. 

Her second business was money. Because she (like an idiot) forgot to exchange galleons to pounds and now her ring wouldn't work for any purchases and she felt like if she went back to the bank, Gornuk would laugh at her. 

So she made do, and stole. 

Cassiopeia missed the magical bustle of Celestial Plaza. Muggle London without the constant hum of magic in the background almost felt… strange. 

She tracked down a place where she could renew her passport. Before she went inside she experimented with Atropos’s help on how to manipulate  someones mind to get them to do what she wanted. She felt dirty doing it, she felt evil. But she needed to. She needed a passport. 

When she finally got the hang of the trick, she applied for a new passport. In person. And she didn’t believe it. 

It fucking worked. 

—------------

Armed with a passport she used her mind reading abilities to find a train station that could take her to another country. Opening the floodgates of other peoples day to day lives was just as overwhelming as she predicted. She stayed on a bench, swaying slightly, her head pounding, trying to reduce the tsunami of thoughts to a slow trickle. 

When the overflow had lessened she started skimming, like she was flicking through folders in a file cabinet. 

Her eyes snapped open when she found the times the ferry ran. There was one running until 10:30 in the evening. It was mid afternoon, but it would take her over 2 hours to get to Dover where the ferry was. She nicked a watch from a passing woman and checked the time. There should be a train running to Dover in half an hour. She just had to get to the station. 

—--------------

France was amazing. 

She could tell that Atropos liked it too. He was underneath her shirt, his head poking out of the neckline under a notice-me-not charm. 

She wandered for a bit and nicked franc off of several different people. 

Cassiopeia sat down heavily on a bench, her feet aching and pulled out a book. She wasn't actually reading but it provided a cover for her to skim other people’s minds to attempt to learn French.

She didn’t want to steal other people’s knowledge, but just learn it for herself. She could probably make a copy of their memories or knowledge. Would that even work?

Well there was only one way to find out. 

She surrendered to the tide of energy and searched for anyone who knew both French and English. 

She found a man, smoking a cigarette maybe about a school bus length away from her, who was fluent in both English and French. 

She carefully maneuvered her way through his mind looking for the essentials of the language. She wasn’t sure how long she was there, making (hopefully) copies of his knowledge of French and what it meant. She prioritized daily life and grammar, things that she’d need to get by. 

Sweat beaded on her brow in concentration and she stared blankly at the pages of her books. The guy seemed content to just stand around and smoke for a while, so she started to prioritize less, and just try and just learn.

When the guy started to leave, she slipped from his mind and continued to pretend to read her book. She had gotten the majority of the French language down. She wouldn’t be assumed to be a native speaker. But she knew enough that she could pass for studying the language for several years. 

Moving from her bench she found a more secluded area. While she had the knowledge of how to speak French and what everything meant, she’d never actually said any of the words. 

When she spoke her first few sentences, it didn’t sound right. She couldn’t get her mouth to form words correctly, couldn't get the accent right and she couldn’t understand half of what she was trying to say. 

The more she practiced, pacing back and forth in her spot she got more comfortable with the language. Things started to make sense, she stopped fumbling with her words, and she didn’t have to think as hard to form her next sentence. 

She redid the notice-me-not charm on Atropos, just in case, before stepping out of her secluded area. 

She checked her watch and decided that dinner was probably a good idea. From the cultural knowledge that she had gleaned from the man, who she had now come to realize was a native speaker, showed that people began eating dinner around 8. It was currently 9, and she was exhausted. 

She ate at a small restaurant she found, paid and quickly left to find a place to hide her bag. She set her sights towards a more hidden alleyway and quickly slipped inside. 

She held her hand over her bag and began to cast a notice me not charm as secure as she could on the bag. 

“Do an anti-muggle charm too” Atropos hissed sleepily from under her shirt. 

Cassie paused after finishing her spell. “How do I do that?”

“Truth be told, I don’t exactly know how your human magic works, but I’ve been describing the feeling that it should have and the effect, so that should work out pretty well,” Atropis yawned

Cassiopeia snorted. She couldn’t believe it. Atropos had been making it up this whole time. 

Anti-muggle charm. She could guess about what that would do. She focused on what she wanted it to do and held her hand out. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her magic, bringing to the surface. 

She concentrated on that pool of magic, bending it to her will and making it so no muggle could approach within 5 ft of her bag. It was a bit weird to do, focusing on the group she wanted to exclude from the diameter surrounding the bag, but she got the hang of it. 

She still didn’t entirely believe that her bag was safe, but it was better than nothing and she was drained and exhausted, 

She collapsed into the bed that she bought at Celestial Plaza, barely remembered to change into night clothes and cast a warming charm of Atropos before she fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia was living on a cloud. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. She traveled between countries, sightseeing, learning languages, stealing and exploring the magical districts of each. 

She went wherever she wanted, when she wanted. She tried all sorts of different foods, and she kept throwing them up, but it was getting better. She just had to heavily monitor her portion sizes. She was getting a little concerned. And Atropos was pestering her all the damn time about it. 

So that’s why she was standing outside of a magical healer’s clinic that she’d skimmed off of a passing witch. She was back in France, but far away from Paris. She was in a more rural area in a small bustling wizarding town. The clinic was small and homely, but she was still very anxious about it. 

She’d only been to the doctors once. And it was for the mandated check up before school started. The Dursleys had purposefully treated her not amazingly, but better that before too at least not raise much concerns other than she was just a picky eater. 

(Cassie was not a picky eater thank you very much) 

She’d also been to an eye doctor, where Petunia had gotten the cheapest pair of frames she could and told her to deal. 

She took a grounding breath and stepped into the clinic. A receptionist greeted her from behind her desk, “Do you have an appointment?” the woman said in french. 

“I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping for a check up today, and if it isn’t possible, to schedule an appointment?” Cassiopeia responded, also in french

The woman looked down at several sheets of parchment she had on her desk. “You’re in luck, Aurélie Delacour has an opening in 15 minutes,” The woman said, “Name? 

“Cassiopeia Peverell” 

The woman nodded and gestured to the waiting room “Take a seat,” 

Cassie turned around to find a chair. She sat in the empty waiting room, pulling a book out of her satchel and beginning to read. It was about the applications of permanent transfiguration and how to know if your transfiguration was truly permanent. 

“Cassiopeia Peverell?” A beautiful blonde woman called from a door off to the side. Cassie stood up and walked up towards the woman. 

“I’m Healer Aurélie Delacour, pleasure to meet you,” She said before walking back into the doorway.  

Cassie followed her through the hallways until Healer Delacour stopped in front of the door and gestured her inside. 

The room was a good size and comfortable, but Cassie didn’t relax. She pulled herself onto the cot that was against the wall on one side and Healer Delacour sat in a chair next to it. 

The rest of the visit went in a blur. Healer Delacour performed some basic diagnostic spells, and she slowly became more horrified at the state of her body. 

Healer Delacour, at the end of her checkup, was incredibly concerned and was pushy in asking questions about her guardians, who brought her here and who she was living with. 

Cassie tried her best to dodge the healer’s questions, but Healer Delacour wasn’t satisfied until Cassiopeia had admitted that she’d run away and had come for a check up on her own. 

Healer Delacour had then made her promise to come back at least yearly for more checkups and to strictly follow the potion regime she’d given Cassie. 

Healer Delacour had given her several vitamin potions to help her malnourished state. The Healer had said they would help fix something called refeeding syndrome. Healer Delacour had mainly brushed over it, only saying it was a deficiency of vitamins and electrolytes in her body. She wasn’t exactly sure how the potions would fix it, but she would follow the Healer’s orders anyway. 

—----------------

She’d traveled to several more countries over the span of 3 months before she decided to return to England. The potions had been working, she could keep down all of her meals and she was stronger. She wasn’t all skin and bones anymore. She wouldn’t call herself the healthiest weight. But she was getting there. 

Cassiopeia had also somewhat learned to use her daggers. It was hard to teach yourself something you had no knowledge of, but she’d found several books on how to do it. However the most helpful was the people she found in the darker places like Knockturn Alley. 

Those types of people, especially the ones who walked with a humble confidence, and not the cocky kind, were a treasure trove of knowledge. She’d found all sorts of esoteric magic and skills in the depths of their minds. And languages. A lot of languages. 

She’d come a long way from knowing only English and parseltongue. She now could converse in French, German, Romanian, Italian, Bulgarian, and Spanish. She was most of the way there with Russian, and she knew enough to order food in Irish. 

She’d been asking Gornuk for updates on her accounts through their communication journal, and things were going along well. The Black, Peverell and Potter accounts were flourishing, but the Slytherin account was having a bit of a struggle. This wasn’t unexpected, with how little money there was in the account in the first place, but it was disappointing nonetheless. 

She’d told Gornuk she was coming back to visit, and he’d responded back with the terrifying message that the Goblin King, Ragnok, wanted to meet her. 

She’d spent the entirety of her journey back to London anxious and fidgety. What could the king possibly want with her? Atropos didn’t seem to be too concerned for her. 

“Speaker, if you were really in trouble, they would be demanding your presence, not just asking if you had the time to meet,” Atropos explained, patiently for the 48th time.

Cassie wrung her hands in her lap, “But what if they’re lulling me into a false sense of security?”

“Speaker, have you done anything to garner their ire?” 

She paused in her movements thinking. She truly couldn’t think of anything, “Exactly,” Atropos hissed, slapping her with his tail “Now stop worrying and pet me,” 

Cassiopeia giggled at his haughtiness, but obliged him and bed running her fingers down his scales. 

—--------------

She didn’t even know why she was worried about visiting the goblins. Everything went well. Gornuk and her first went over her account figures in person, easier that writing out all of the numbers and answering questions though a journal, and then came time to mean King Ragnok. 

Ragnok was stern, but Cassie could tell he was a good king. He wasn’t malevolent towards the goblins around him. He was harsh and suspicious of her at first, but Cassie thought that maybe he liked her in the end. 

She could never be too sure. 

The meeting seemed rather pointless to her. It felt more like a conversation to her than an actual meeting. Although, maybe her view of a meeting was skewed through parent–teacher conferences (which the Dursley’s used to destroy the teacher’s perception of her) and the serious war council meetings in her favorite fantasy books back in the library. 

After her nerve wracking and seemingly pointless meeting with the Goblin King, Gornuk had taken her to his home in the living part of the underground tunnels. 

She’d met Gornuk’s wife and kids, and learned that Gornuk was rather young by goblin standards. He’d told her he was around 140, and most goblins lived to 300. His kids were at the oldest 40, still pretty young, and by her own guess conversion, was around the late preteen years. 

His wife was a matronly, if stern woman, who’s name was Srassa. She guided her children with a firm hand and seemed to be the leader of the household. She wove excellent stories, of both goblin legends, stories of Cassiopeia’s mother, (who Srassa apparently had know rather well,) and her own youth. Srassa was a mosaicist, designing and creating many of the mosaics that were used in the bank. Srassa had said that many of the murals she made were mourning murals, made out of goblin remains. When Cassie had looked slightly disturbed, Srassa had laughed and explained that when goblins died, their bodies slowly turned to stone. 

Srassa describes the gravesites as works of art, generations of beautiful mosaics made out of the goblin’s remains, picturing their life, work and passions. 

She’d learned more about goblin culture in a day than she had from any book on the shelf. 

Before Cassie knew it, it was dinner time, and Srassa had ushered her towards the table, and hadn’t allowed her to leave. She was down in a chair next to the head of the table, on Gornuk’s right, Srassa on his left. The food the goblins ate was unusual by human standards, but it was delicious anyway. 

Cassiopeia had been overjoyed to be invited back. Srassa had cupped her face and kissed her on the forehead, saying that she was welcome anytime, just to write to either her or Gornuk. Cassie promised she’d be back, if only to hear more of Srassa’s stories. 

Cassiopeia left England again, not picking up anymore languages in her travels, but trying to solidify her ability with the ones she’d already learned. 

Over the next few months, she visited the goblins several more times, the most notable of which she met with the King again. 

They’d done some sort of ritual to make her a ‘goblin friend’, whatever that meant. She wasn’t sure of the significance, but she knew that it must be something big. She tried her best to go along with it, and to not offend anyone. 

Once she’d left England again she tried her best to look into what ‘goblin friend’ meant, but she didn't find much. All she could dig up was a dusty old book that mentioned a couple ‘goblin friends’ helping secure goblin rights to run Gringotts, and if that was the type of stuff that ‘goblin friend’ meant doing, she was ecstatic at having received the title. 

She’d only vaguely kept track of the days, so when Atropos told her, she should probably return to England, she was confused. 

“Speaker, it is a month before your birthday. You need to return for your magic school soon” 

Cassie frowned in discontent. She didn’t want to go back and be tied down to a single place again. She liked wandering, learning languages and meeting new people. But there was a part of her that wanted something stable. A place to return at night that wasn’t a bag that could be stolen at any moment. 

“... Fine. But we’re traveling again once schools over,” 

Atropos chuckled, “We’ll see Speaker, We’ll see.” 

Cassiopeia pouted and began planning her trip back to England. 

Her first stop was Gringotts, and meeting with Gornuk.

When she stepped into the familiar office, Gornuk greeted her with a smile (a goblin smile, which meant it looked more like a sneer). 

They were catching up, and talking about her accounts, when Cassie asked the question, “So, I’m planning on staying in Britain for a while, where do you think I should stay?” 

Gornuk paused to think and began to pull parchment out of his draws. He slid the parchment across  the smooth desktop and faced her and began rhythmically tapping a nail on the desk, “I would recommend one of these properties. All heavily warded, should be good for your needs. 

She looked down at the parchments on the desk. Black Castle, Peverell Castle and Slytherin Castle. 

“That’s a lot of castles,” she said, staring at the pages blankly. 

Gornuk laughed harshly, “From what I understand of the prices and land documents, Black Castle is the only actual castle. Peverell Castle is mainly land, forest and mountains I believe. Peverell Castle has been abandoned for generations, there is a high chance that it is just ruins, but I may be wrong” 

Cassiopeia nodded slowly “Slytherin Castle?”

Gornuk frowned, “Slytherin Castle may be heavily warded, but it may be very close to crumbling. Again I am not sure. Rumors suggest the castle was built as a Motte and Bailey to protect a small amount of magicals before Hogwarts was established. Black Castle is your best option” 

Cassie regarded the papers carefully, Gornuk may have been wrong, but his deductions made sense. Cassie rested her finger on a line of the document for Black Castle, tapping it thoughtfully, “This here says the castle is unplottable, what does that mean, and how am I supposed to get there?” 

“Most families have a vault, called a portkey vault, that contains all the portkeys to their properties. These vaults are usually very high security and can only be activated with the family magic.” Gornuk said, “Going to the Black portkey vault will most likely give you a portkey that will allow you into Black Castle.” 

“Would you be willing to take me to this vault?” 

Gornuk nodded and stood from his chair and Cassie followed suit. Gornuk led her through the winding halls of the band to an offshoot from where the carts began to a long hallway filled with many vault doors. 

They went past a large number of them, at least 20 doors if she was counting correctly, before they stopped at an unlabeled vault, besides the embossed 27 at the top of the vault. 

Gornuk gestured to the vault and she placed her hand flat against the vault door, and pushed a bit of her magic through her hand to the vault door, 

The vault door melted out in a circular pattern from where she’d placed her hand, pulling into itself, like it was repulsed from her hand until the door was entirely gone. 

She stepped past the spot where the door used to be and looked around the rather small vault. Deep black velvet busts lined the only surface in the vault, prominently displaying several lockets. 

All 5 of them had label cards of the name of house, having unfamiliar names like Astrifir Maison de Maitre, or familiar ones like Grimmauld 11, 12 and 13, and finally, Black Castle, Apparently also known as La maison des étoiles. The home of the stars. She guessed that it tied into the naming traditions

The locket that was for Black Castle was the most elaborate of the portkeys. The oblong silver locket was engraved with the family crest and encrusted with jewels. On the back of the heavy locket was a seven point star carved out of the back of the locket and bordered by small etchings of runes. 

She swiped her thumb over the back and felt a hum of magic sing from the locket. She slid the thin chain around her neck and stepped back out of the vault. The door swam back to its place behind her, rapidly filling in the gap, until it looked like it had never left in the first place. Perfectly solid once more. 

Gornuk nodded at her sharply before turning on his heel, “Come with me, I will show you Gringotts portkey point,” 

She followed Gornuk once again through the winding halls of Gringotts, lined with beautiful tapestries and deadly sharp weapons, the weight of the Portkey comforting around her neck, being carefully investigated by Atropos. 

They arrived at a simple room, barren of decorations, big enough for maybe 15 people. Gornuk returned to his office after saying goodbye, and she was left alone in the silence of the room. 

She took the locket in her hand and reached out with her magic, jolting in surprise when it started to grab her own. She let the magic pull her through and she felt a tug in her navel, before she was swept out of existence. 

She landed hard on a grassy field, stumbling after being spat out from the portkey and fell face first onto the ground. Atropos hissed his displeasure and wriggled his way up towards her shoulders. 

Cassiopeia staggered upwards, accidentally crushing a smattering of flowers, unsteady legs numb from the portkey. She looked towards the horizon, squinting from the blaring sun. 

A field opened in front of her, interspersedly broken by upshoots of dark gray rock. Rough dark waters met the sky to her left and right. She turned around and before her stood a tall imposing castle, dominating the surrounding land 

Chapter Text

The looming castle was a dark gray slash across the sky, threatening the clouds with its pointed towers, casting a large shadow across the ground. The castle was reminiscent of Gothic architecture with large window panes and intricate details. Vines danced artfully up the massive walls. 

She approached the massive castle, and passed the ward line. The magic of the castle positively sang when she crossed the border of the wards, the castle no longer overwhelming and intimidating. 

A crack! Exploded behind her and she whipped around and came face to face with a… creature? She wasn’t sure what it was. A small wrinkly creature with large flapping ears and tennis ball eyes, only a little bit shorter than Cassiopeia 

“I’s being the head elf of La maison des étoiles , Carpo,” The small being said, “Hows can I be of service, new mistress?” 

“Er,” Cassiopeia stuttered, “I’m sorry- but what are you?”

Carpo looked at her, also confused, “I’s being a house elf mistress, we being descendants of the brownies and we serve magical beings like dragons, wiccan, goblins and centaur packs” He said, slowly as if explaining to a small child. 

“Oh,” She said, furrowing her brow, “Can you, er, show me around?” 

Carpo still looked incredibly weirded out but nodded thoughtfully, “I cans show new mistress around and introduce the elves” 

He motioned for Cassiopeia to follow him and he led her to the entrance of the castle. 

If she thought the castle was massive from the outside, the inside was a whole other thing. There were 30 bedrooms, apparently an unusually large number in noble houses, but the Black used to be a large family and the castle was used to house all if not most of them. 

There were several halls, as well as a great hall and a ballroom. Everything was opulent and dripping with gold and silver. The walls bled magic into the very air of the castle, the air was so thick with magic, you could cut it with a knife. Not an inch of dust coated the profuse castle, she and the elves were the only figures ghosting through the abandoned rooms, like memories of what it once was. 

Carpo led her through the barren halls, lined with both magical and still paintings, mainly landscapes, with portraits scattered between. Carpo murmured details to her, history of the abandoned castle, where a painting came from, what the rooms were once used for. 

Carpo pulled open the door of what he said was the great library and she strolled inside. Cassiopeia stared at the room in wonder and awe. 

There had to be thousands of books perched upon looming shelves, piled high to the beginning of the arched ceilings. The dome of the ceiling displayed paintings of the constellations, all painted with a careful, caring hand. Tables and desks littered throughout the library, and several fireplaces roared to life at a snap of Carpo’s fingers.   

Illecebrous gold detailing on the walls and supports in the ceiling glinted in orange light from the crackling flames, ghostly, diaphanous curtains hung in front of windows, almost glowing in the fading sunlight and fog. 

Cassie approached the thick, bound leather ledger standing on a pedestal near the front of the room and began to slowly flip through the pages. 

“Yous be needing to place your hand on the ledger and bes wanting for a topic or specific book Mistress”

Cassiopeia furrowed her brow and slowly stretched out a hand to place on top of the thick book. When her palm met the leather, a warmth spread through her hand she thought hard about what she wanted.  Parselmagic. She thought. She hadn’t been able to find much about it, in any of her travels. All she found was a couple books here and there, but it was all theoretical, she couldn’t find anything about how to do it. 

11 books came flying towards her, stopping about and arm’s length away from her. Eleven whole books on Parselmagic. She felt giddy with excitement. 

Atropos!” she hissed,  “I found books on Parselmagic! Come look!”

Atropos poked his head out of the top of shirt, eyeing the books carefully, “Congratulations, come back and read them later, I want to see the rest of this castle,” He said, then yawned, “And go to bed, I’ll be properly excited in the morning” 

Cassiopeia snickered under her breath and turned to Carpo, who was looking at her with a curious expression, “Is there anyone else here? Any people, elves or other creatures?” 

“There’s being 5 other elveses besides me Mistress, would you like to meets them?” He asked.

Cassie smiled at him, “Yes, I would if you please,” 

Carpo clapped his hands twice and a chorus of pops sounded behind him. A more feminine elf stepped forward first, she looked to be the youngest of all of them and was wearing a pressed apron and dress. 

“I’s being Europa, the chef,” 

Another female elf stepped forward, the oldest besides Carpo it looked, wearing something that rather reminded Cassie of Mary Poppins “I’m Io, the nanny and governess, I watch the children and teach them,” 

A female elf dressed in a first stained pair of overalls, and rugged work boots with dirt still clinging to her hands, “I’s being Himalia the gardener and groundskeeper,” 

A timid looking male elf stepped forward and smiled shyly, he seemed to be about the same age as Europa. He was the simplest dressed out of all of them, wearing a plain white shirt, a cloth brown vest and soft green linen pants.  “I’s being Themislo, the cleaner” He said shyly, before backing up quickly to the line of elves. 

“You’ll have to excuse him Mistress,” Io said, “He hasn’t interacted with many people but us and the old Master Arcturus and Mistress Melania,” 

Cassiopeia didn’t know who those people were, but they must be her ancestors so she just smiled at Themislo. She wondered why Io had better speech patterns than all of them, but brushed it aside in favor of looking at the last elf. 

“I am Amalthia, the guest elf, but I help clean too when we don’t have guests,” said Amalthia, very professionally and politely, wearing a butler suit very similar to Carpo’s. 

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” She smiled at them, then she turned to Europa, “I’m sorry to ask, but could you perhaps make me a small meal? Maybe a cheese toastie and soup?” 

Europa nodded enthusiastically and disappeared with a crack. “I’m so sorry to disturbed you from what you were doing, you can go back to it now, now that I know all of your names,” 

The rest of them disappeared with several cracks, but Carpo stayed. “Can I ask you a few questions?” She asked.

Carpo nodded slowly, “Ask away,” he said, in his low gravelly voice. 

“How come some of you speak better English?” 

Carpo frowned thoughtfully, “Amalthia be speaking better because she interacts with the guests, and the Blacks have standards. Io bes speaking better because she teaches the children to speak, and the Masters can’t be having their heirs be speaking like us house elves.” He started, “But there’s being another reason. The way we being speaking is the way our language is. Amalthia and Io is being worse at speaking Rááswisian after speaking human,”

“Can you teach me?” She asked and Carpo looked at her confused, “Teach me your language,” she clarified. 

“If that being what Mistress wants, yes. It is very hard” 

She grinned at him and began skipping down the corridors, “Can you show me to a room where I can sleep?” 

Carpo nodded and began speed walking to lead her through the halls. 

Carpo led her to several rooms called the ‘Heir Suite’. It seemed excessive to her, but she was ecstatic nonetheless. 

The rooms were beautiful, continuing the star pattern to the mural on the ceiling and the crown molding on the walls. The walls were painted a deep green and black lambrisering lined the walls. A small living room was the ‘main’ room of the suite, it held a fireplace, with intricate detailing along the grates and bricks, a plush black leather sofa along with several other black leather chairs, all surrounding a dark, glossy ebony wood coffee table. 

She wandered into the bedroom and took in the space. The walls were a cream with a massive church style window letting in the dying light of the sun. Thick, black curtains were held in place off of the window by a hook. A king sized bed took up most of the wall in front of her, with a heavy looking white duvet. An ebony wood vanity stood abandoned and empty next to the window. A white marble fireplace took up the wall to her right and it roared to life as she stepped into the room. 

Despite the fireplace, the room still felt… empty. Like it was still mourning the loss of the person who stayed here last. The whole castle felt like that. Like something had gone horribly wrong with the family and tore them apart. 

A well equipped bathroom was attached to the bedroom. A massive marble tub with several faucets, an enclosed shower, another vanity, and a sink as well as several cupboards for things. A closet was also adjacent to the bedroom, a rather large walk in closet, with a built-in mirror. 

Cassiopeia ran her fingers over an unfamiliar and intricate wooden statue of a wheel. She picked the wheel over from the embellished stand and examined it carefully. “What’s this?” She asked, turning to Carpo. 

Carpo gasped in shock, “Mistress does not know the wheel of the year?!” 

She blinked at his reaction, taken aback, “Is that- Is that a big deal?” 

“A big deal!” Carpo said, almost sounding offended, “The wheel of the year is beings a very important part of the celebration of the magics that all magical beings be gifted from Mother Magic,”

“I got like, half of that, can you explain this very simply to me?” 

Carpo grumbled in disbelief, before calling, “Io! Á ins ka!” 

A sharp crack! Startled her and she jumped, but quickly relaxed. Io was standing next to Carpo and they had a harried discussion in Rááswisian. Cassiopeia watched in interest as Io got more and more concerned looking and her speech got more stressed. 

Io and Carpo finished their discussion, grabbed her by the arms, and then she felt like she was being squeezed through a straw and then she was popped out in a room that looked like a classroom. She stumbled, dizzy, before righting herself on one of the few desks in the room. Io forcibly sat her down in one of the chairs, gave her a few sheets of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink and demanded she take notes. 

Io placed her hands on her hips, reminding Cassiopeia very much of Srassa and began to lecture. 

“The wheel of the year is the celebration of the 8 solar holidays,” Io said, picking up a piece of chalk and beginning to draw a diagram on the board, “This wheel, represents the cycle of birth, death and rebirth, as well as the duality of dark and light magic,”

“Sorry,” Cassiopeia interrupted, ‘Dark and Light magic? I’ve seen things differentiating them, but never any concrete definitions,” 

Io nodded, “The ability to create Light or Dark magic is something that person is inherently born with. For example, you can influence a dark core to become light and be able to consistently form light magic, but at a significant decrease in magical prowess,”

“Dark magic has been increasingly outlawed by the Ministry of Magic, even though it is just a facet of the Great Mother,” 

“Who is the Great Mother?’ 

“We’ll get there in a minute. Now, Dark magic isn’t inherently evil, however, there is a sector of it called ‘black magic’. This type of magic is known to corrupt the soul, driving the person to insanity. There is a light magic version of this, called ‘white magic’. That type of magic corrupts one’s mind, causing a detachment from the concept of consequences, such as being uncaring at the loss of life. These are both branches of magic to avoid”

“Now, onto the wheel of the year. Each of these holidays marked the waxing and waning of the strength of Dark and Light magic rituals. Individual magical prowess isn’t as affected, but performing rituals will be greatly affected,”

“We will start with Litha. Litha is the summer solstice. It is the peak of Light magic. It's a holiday to celebrate Lord Light Litha is often celebrated with large bonfires, and fire rituals. This day celebrates the sun’s power that the Great Mother has blessed us with, this just happened,” 

Io continued to drone on about several holidays through the year, and Cassiopeia tried her best to take notes, only interjecting occasionally to ask necessary questions. 

Each of  the holidays celebrated a god, 7 lesser gods that were all somehow also part of Lady Magic, also called ‘the Great Mother’ and Mother Magic. They were coming up on Tempārius, a holiday to honor Lord Time. Then it was Mabon, to celebrate Mother Magic. Samhain, also known as the new year to celebrate Lord Death, Yule to to celebrate Lady Dark, Imbolc to celebrate Lady Fate, Ostara for Lady Life and Vocivus for Lord Chaos. 

Her head was spinning with info, and by the time Io deemed to release her, she was rubbing her eyes tiredly and barely had enough energy to change and apply a warming charm to Atropos before she fell asleep in the very comfortable bed. 

The next few weeks were just as amazing as the rest of her year had gone away from the Dursleys. She spent most of her time in the library, in the sprawling expanse of the gardens, or in the classroom learning what all young heirs were taught. Io was running a sort of cram school for Cassiopeia before she left for Hogwarts, so she didn’t “absolutely embarrass the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black” as Io had said, in the haughtiest  of voices the little elf could muster (Cassie nearly fell over with laughter). 

It was one of those days where she and Atropos were both laid half asleep on the grass in the warm sun, when he spoke up.

“Your wizard school letter arrives soon,” She hummed in affirmation, eyes still closed and half asleep. 

Atropos licked her face and she scrunched her nose. “If you wish to, what’s that human phrase, ah yes, fly under the radar of that Dumbledore, you’re going to need to return to your relatives,” Atropos hissed, and Cassie could hear the undercurrent of dislike in his tone, whether that dislike was for Albus Dumbledore, or for the Dursleys she was unsure. 

Cassiopeia frowned, "I don’t want to go back,”

Atropos hissed in sympathy, “I don’t want for you to go back either, but if we time it right, you’ll only be there a fora few days, at most, before you get your letter and can return to Black Castle,” 

She sighed and rolled over onto her stomach, “I guess,” She said, dejectedly, I’ve got a little over a week before my birthday, I should probably go,” 

“That would be ideal, yes,” Atropos said, sympathetically.

Cassiopeia hauled herself to her feet, tugging Atropos up with her and wrapping him around her shoulders. 

—-----------

Cassiopeia gathered her things into her magical messenger bag, pausing at her Papa’s trunk. Part of his letter rang in her head. “We have left you presents and letters for every year until your 100. We each left one for each of your birthdays. Starting from your 11th year, there will be special gifts.”

She hadn’t opened any of the presents for fear of a breakdown, but the thought of the gifts weighed heavily on her mind. She grabbed the trunk, resolving to open the presents on her birthday. She swiped her parent’s letters from her bedside table and slid them into the pocket of her jeans and tossed her messenger bag over her shoulder. 

She coated Atropos in a notice-me-not charm for the first time in weeks and looked sadly back at the looming castle. La maison des étoiles had slowly, but surely became her home. She’d said goodbye to the elves earlier, and they had been sad to see their only guest go. 

Together, all 6 elves on the castle grounds had become a sort of combined parental figure, making sure she took care of herself and wasn’t holding herself up in the library all the time. She was really going to miss them. 

Carpo was leading her out to the ward edge, then he apparated with her to Little Whining,  and he waved his goodbye. (she could have sworn he had tears in his eyes). 

According to her and Atropos's plan, she was supposed to return to Black Castle, but they were saying goodbye, just in case. 

She ignored Carpo’s outstretched hand for a handshake and swept him up in a hug. Carpo squeaked in surprise, but returned the hug anyway. 

She released her hold on his and swiped at the tears in her eyes. Carpo disappeared with a last wave and a crack! And she turned on her heel and began the familiar walk to number 4 Privet Drive.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia stood nervously outside the door of her relatives. The lampposts had only recently flicked off, the morning light still new. She raised her fist to knock at the door but hesitated right before. 

She stared blankly at the door. The pit in her stomach grew impossibly wider and she felt as if she was going to puke. She rested a hand on Atropos, gathered all the courage she could, and knocked on the door. 

She didn’t hear anything, but finally, she heard murmured words and the door swung open to reveal her aunt Petunia. Petunia stood there in shock, before opening her mouth to scream. 

Cassie surged forward, quickly clamping her hand over Petunia’s mouth. Petunia stared at her with eyes wide like saucer plates and Cassiopeia delved into the older woman’s mind.

She quickly got to work, altering Petunia’s memories to think that she had been away at a detention center that the Dursley’s had sent her to, ‘get her act under control’. 

Petunia relaxed and Cassie hesitantly removed her hand from Petunia’s mouth. “Well? What do you think you’re doing freak?! Get to the kitchen and start breakfast! It’s been bad enough while you’ve been away at that God forsaken detention center, costing us money! You better start repaying us good, you hear me!” Petunia spat at her, smacking her across the face. 

Cassiopeia flinched violently and tears came to her eyes. She bit down on the side of her cheek to stop herself from crying and practically fled into the kitchen. 

Petunia grumbled and collapsed onto the couch, one of her gossip magazines held firmly in her hand. 

Cassie scrubbed at her face and ignored Atropos’s soft hissing of comfort. She stood blankly in the middle of the kitchen, hands shaking and the pool of dread in her gut growing impossibly bigger. Her vision was blurring and she felt dizzy. 

Atropos’s comforts faded to the background and she worked on autopilot making breakfast. Her motions felt sluggish, slow movements as she ghosted around the kitchen. 

The hollow in her chest became more of a chasm than a hole. She picked up the knife and slowly reached for the tomatoes. 

The freak, no, Cassiopeia, Cassie or Cass for short began to slice the tomatoes and turned the stove on. Her hands were shaking, but she could barely feel it. 

Breakfast was done. She opened her mouth to call down the family, but no sound came out. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands twisting the bottom of her shirt, unsure of what to do now. 

Slowly she trudged her way up the stairs and to Dudley’s room. The plan. She didn’t bother to knock and swung the door open. She stepped silently into the room, Dudley still sleeping soundly. 

She reached out mentally towards his head and did the same thing that she did to Petunia. She was away at a detention center, she hadn’t run away, the Dursleys had sent her there to curb her bad habits. 

She extracted herself from Dudley’s mind and slipped out of the room, closing the door silently behind her. Across the hall, she did the same thing to Vernon before slipping back downstairs. 

She inched her way into the living room, not wanting to disturb Petunia and risk punishment. 

Petunia glanced up from her magazine with a pinched look on her face, “Breakfast is ready? I’ll go wake the boys, go to your cupboard and I’ll give you your chores once the family is done with breakfast,”

She said nothing and turned on her heel to go to her cupboard. She stood in the doorway of the cramped cupboard. It looks so small, how did she ever live here? She crammed herself in the small cupboard and closed the door behind her. 

Cassie slumped against the wall and Atropos slithered out from under her blouse. She didn’t do anything demanding but she still felt exhausted to the bone. She rested her head against the wall and let a tear roll down her cheek, her shoulders shaking. 

—-----------

Cassie fell back into her old routine at the Dursleys, the motions of her chores hauntingly familiar.

Petunia still spat insults and abuse like it was sport, peaking through the curtains and over the fence into her neighbor’s business, gossiping with anyone who would listen about Cassiopeia’s terrible behavior and about how maybe the detention center wasn’t enough. 

Dudley took up his favorite hobby of 'Candace Questing' again, chasing her down with his friends, but using her magic she was able to outsmart him, using the same mind manipulation magics she did earlier to make 'Candace Questing' boring. If there was one surety that proved magic was still real, it was her new found ability to defend herself.

Vernon after seeing her for the first time had scoffed and claimed that the detention center had 'done her some good' and that she was lucky they weren't 'taking a page out of their book'. Vernon spent most of his time ignoring her, and if she was being honest, she preferred it that way.

Atropos was her only companion. If he wasn’t there, she would wonder if her being kicked out was actually just a dream she had woken up from. Was her magic and parents actually a dream? 

Her magic hummed under her skin, crackling off her arms and hair in arks, a gentle reminder that it wasn’t fake. 

“Dudley, get the post,” Vernon told Dudley, who had just sat down at the table and was still smacking his Smeltings stick against the ground in random patterns. Her hands stilled from here she was frying the bacon. 

Dudley made a face, “Make the freak get it! I don’t want to get it!” He whined, making crocodile tears come to his eyes. 

“Oh don’t cry Dudders,” Petunia placated Dudley in a sickeningly sweet voice, she turned to her husband, “Vernon, make the freak get it, oh poor Duddykins,” she simpered

“Freak!” Vernon bellowed and Cassie flinched, “Get the post!”

Dudley smirked at her from behind his mother, who was still wiping fake tears off of his face with a lacy handkerchief. She rolled her eyes and turned off the heat of the stove, slid the bacon onto a plate, set her spatula down and hurried down the hall to get the post. 

She grabbed the small pile of mail and began walking back into the kitchen, flipping through the envelopes. Bill, junk, postcard, bill, junk, junk, Hogwarts, junk. Wait. Hogwarts?

She quickly flipped back to the heavy cream parchment envelope with rich dark green ink and no stamp. 

MS. C POTTER-BLACK

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive 

Little Whinging 

Surrey

Automatically continuing into the kitchen, she continued to stare at her letter. She flipped it over to look at the wax seal on the back and slid the rest of the mail onto the bit of table in front of Vernon. 

An intricate crest was stamped into the wax, showing a roaring lion, a coiled snake, an eagle spreading its wings and a honey badger climbing the side all surrounding a large letter H. A ribbon wrapped around the bottom of the crest read Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. It was Latin, a language which she’d only picked up slightly while reading copious amounts of spell crafting tombs at Black Castle and in her travels for its basis in spell making. 

From what she could make out it was something about a sleeping dragon? 

“Dad! The freaks got some of the post!” Dudley cried and she clenched her teeth. She could punch that kid right now. 

Vernon’s head whipped up and began to turn purple with rage, “You’ve got some of our post, you ungrateful freak!” He stood up and lumbered across the kitchen to her. She hid the letter behind her back and began to back up. She could only be glad that Atropos was in the cupboard and couldn’t do anything to catch the Dursleys ire. 

Vernon slammed her against the wall and breath flew out of her lungs. She tried to take a breath in and Vernon got closer to her face, “You think a freak like you gets the right to look at our families post?!” Vernon bellowed furiously, spit flying from his mouth and onto her face. 

She scrunched her face up and flinched. Vernon brought his fist up to her face and struck her right in the nose. Cassie’s head whipped back and rebounded off of the drywall and she crumbled to the ground, clutching her head in pain. 

Vernon wrenched her arm forward, bending it at an odd angle and she screamed. He yanked the letter out of her hand, and kicked her in the stomach for good measure.

“That’s my letter!” She yelled furiously, still out of breath and attempting to snatch the letter back. 

“Who the bloody hell would be writing to you?” Sneered Vernon, holding the letter high above her reach from where she was curled on the floor.

“I want to read it Dad!” Dudley shouted, pushing past Petunia to approach his father.

Vernon glanced at the letter and quickly turned the shade of paper and spun so quickly to Petunia, he must have gotten whiplash. He held the letter up with a shaking hand and in a voice very unlike the one he was just using to yell said, “P-P-Petunia,” He stuttered.

Petunia approached him curiously and snatched the envelope out of the air from where Vernon was holding it high above Dudley’s head. She glanced over the first line and went white almost faster than Vernon had, the envelope nearly slipping from her hands in her shock. She made a faint choking noise, her eyes bugging out of her head. 

“Vernon! That twisted  school! What are we going to- Vernon!” 

They stared at each other in shock, seeming to forget that both Dudley and Cassie were in the room. Cassie began to haul herself up from the ground and Dudley scowled at her. He stalked up to her and whacked her arm with his Smeltings stick and she crumpled to the ground again. 

She cursed under her breath and pulled her arm to her chest. Dudley, not used to being ignored by his doting parents, knocked Vernon over the head with his Smeltings stick. 

“I want to read that letter,” He bellowed like a petulant toddler. 

“ I want to read it” Cassiopeia snarled, “It was sent to me! ”

“Get out, both of you” Vernon scowled.

Petunia began to usher Dudley out of the kitchen while he protested loudly about wanting to see the letter too. “If the freak got to see it, So should I!” he wailed, beginning to summon his crocodile tears again, but this time, Petunia seemed to have the willpower to ignore them and continued to usher her howling son out of the kitchen door. 

Vernon grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet as a scream tore it’s way from her mouth. Vernon scowled and struck her across the face with the back of his hand, “No screaming, now go,” He pushed her harshly in the direction Petunia had directed Dudley. 

“I WANT TO READ MY LETTER,” She spat, eyes alight with fury. Vernon grabbed the arm he had bent earlier and yanked her out of the kitchen. Dudley pushed her out of the way.

“Let me see it!” Dudley wailed to his father, banging his smelting stick against the wooden floor.  Vernon ignored his son, slamming the kitchen door in front of their faces. 

Dudley shoved her out of the way of the closed door to press his ear as close as he could to the keyhole to listen in. 

She stumbled to the side and steadied herself on the wall. She got down on her side and removed her glasses to stare intently through the crack of the door watching Petunia’s heels and Vernon’s black shiny work shoes.  

“Vernon,” Petunia said in a quivering voice, her heels clicking quietly against the linoleum tile of the kitchen, “How could they know our address, they know where she sleeps, that Dumbledore man promised we’d be unbothered, You don’t think they’re watching the house?” 

“Spying-might be following us,” Vernon mumbled wildly, pacing back and forth in front of the door. 

“What should we do? Write back? We could send the girl off to another detention center, or tell them she’s mentally deranged-” 

Vernon’s shiny shoes stilled, but Petunia was still shuffling nervously. “No,” He said firmly, “No, we’ll ignore it. If we ignore them, if they don’t get an answer.. Yes… yes that will work! It we ignore them they’ll stop sending them,” Vernon muttered, sounding manic. 

“But,” Petunia protested, taking several small steps towards Vernon. 

“I’m not having a freak like that in the house, Petunia! We said we were going to beat this dangerous nonsense out of the brat! Clearly we didn’t try hard enough!” 

Cassie went white and swallowed thickly. That was not trying hard enough?

Vernon’s shoes began to approach the door and Cassie quickly scrambled to her feet, backing up to stand by the cupboard and act like she hadn’t been listening. 

Dudley continued to make complaints to his father about the letter and Petunia didn’t give her a list of chores, but instead, pushed Cassie in the cupboard and locked the door after she was inside.

—----------

That evening, after Vernon had returned from work, Dudley from terrorizing primary schoolers with his friends and after they had eaten dinner, for the very first time ever, Vernon visited Cassiopeia in her cupboard.

Vernon stood awkwardly in the doorway, not able to fit more than a shoulder and a half in her cupboard. 

“Where’s my letter!” She demanded, swiftly casting a notice-me-not over Atropos, who was lounging on her lap. 

Vernon scowled, “No one. It was a mistake. It wasn’t for you,” He said shortly, “I’ve burned it,”

“It was not a mistake,” said Cassiopeia angrily. She felt the fury rise up in her chest at the thought that her relatives were trying to take magic away from her. Her nostrils flared, “It had my cupboard on it!”

“QUIET” Vernon bellowed and Piper the spider, who made her web in the corner of the cupboard fell from the ceiling. Vernon then took a large breath and plastered a smile on his face, which seemed painful and more like a grimace than any actual smile. 

She was actually a little concerned. 

“Er- yes, Candace, about this cupboard,” Oh, Candace, she forgot about that. All they had called her while she’d been back was Freak or girl, so she’d completely forgotten that she’d been called Candace for most of her life. Vernon cleared his throat and continued, “Your aunt and I have been thinking… You’re getting a bit big for this cupboard and thought that maybe you should move into Dudley’s second bedroom,”

She stared at him in shock and wondered if this was the same Vernon that had slammed her head against the wall earlier that day. She pinched her arm quickly, hoping Vernon wouldn't notice. 

She didn't wake up, so she wasn’t  dreaming, “Why?” she questioned. 

“Don’t ask questions!” Vernon snapped, “Take your stuff upstairs, now,” 

Vernon quickly left her alone and returned to the kitchen. She glanced at Atropos, very skeptical. He did the snake equivalent of a shrug and she wrapped him around her shoulders. Cassie grabbed her satchel, which contained everything that she owned, except for the toy soldiers sitting on a dusty shelf in the cupboard. She stared at them for a moment, before grabbing them. She watched Piper the spider twirling a fly in webbing and waved goodbye. She closed the cupboard door behind her and began climbing the stairs. 

She sat down on the dusty bed in Dudley’s second bedroom and looked around at the room. Nearly everything was broken and the room smelled rancid. There were abandoned and broken toys scattered on shelves and on the floor, a month old video camera, a small working tank he’d driven over one of the neighbors dog, Dudley’s first TV set, which he had put a foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; a large birdcage, a real air rifle, bent at an odd angle. There were shelves of untouched dusty books that were the only things in the room in a remotely good condition. Her eyes caught the source  of the rancid smell. A trash bin, which contained years old moldy food, skid marked underwear and socks with questionable stains on them. 

“I don’t want her there!” Dudley wailed, his voice carrying from downstairs to the upstairs bedrooms. “I need that room! Make her leave!” 

Cassiopeia sighed and slid her fingers over Atropos’s smooth scales and scrubbed a hand down her face. She’d prefer to be in her cramped cupboard with Piper the spider and her Hogwarts letter than in this dusty abandoned room and without it. 

—------------------------

The next morning at breakfast was strangely quiet. Dudley seemed to have gone into shock at not getting his way. He’d thrown tantrums, whacked his father and mother with his Smeltings stick, thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof (who Cassie had promptly went out to go find and check over, even using her magic to heal the poor thing) and stomped on his mother’s prized china tea set; but he never got his room back. 

When it was time for the post, Cassie put down her spatula and began to discreetly make her way towards the door to get the post without being asked, but Vernon grabbed the back of her shirt, and sent a petulant Dudley to get it. 

Dudley scowled and banged his Smeltings stick against the walls and floor and shouted from the door, “There’s another one! Ms. C. Potter-Black, the Smallest Bedroom,” he trailed off, “Potter-Black? I thought it was Potts?”  

Vernon let out a strangled cry and began to charge toward the door, Cassiopeia hot on his heels. Vernon wrestled Dudley to the ground, making a grab at the letter. Cassie shoved at Vernon and scratched at Dudley’s hands that were still holding the letter. Dudley continued to whack everything and everyone he could with  his Smeltings stick resulting in many new bruises for both Vernon and Cassiopeia. 

Vernon emerged victorious, the letter clutched in his hand and raised high to the ceiling out of reach to everyone but him. Cassie futally jumped to try and reach the letter, but he just smacked her down. “Go to your cup- I mean your bedroom.” Vernon wheezed at her, “Dudley, you too, go to your room” 

Cassiopeia scowled, but trudged up the stairs anyway, cursing Vernon under her breath. 

She slipped into her flat in her messenger bag and began pacing around the living room. Someone knew the Dursleys had moved her from the cupboard to the Dudley’s second bedroom and they knew she hadn't gotten the first letter. That must mean that they’d keep trying until she got her letter right? She just had to make sure they succeeded. 

She sat down on the sofa she’d bought for the flat and thought for a moment, staring intently at a photo of her parents that she’d found in one of their trunks and placed on the coffee table. 

An alarm spell… She thought of Atropos’s advice Truth be told, I don’t exactly know how your human magic works, but I’ve been describing the feeling that it should have and the effect, so that should work out pretty well, Cassiopeia checked her watch. 9:36. 

She held out her hand and concentrated at her magic bubbling just beneath her skin. She focused on that feeling and brought it to the surface. She focused on a time, 9:37 and imagined an alarm going off in her head, that only she could hear once it reached that time. A warm feeling rushed out of her hand and she checked her watch quickly. 

She waited with baited breath for the second hand of her watch to reach the 12 and for it to be 9:37. 30 seconds… 15 seconds, 0 seconds. Abruptly alarms started going off in her head and she yelped in surprise, as quickly as they came, they were gone again. 

She breathed out a sigh of relief and tried it again to set an alarm for six o’clock and focused on the warm feeling in her hand. She nodded happily and got ready for bed. 

—----------------

The next morning, when the alarm bells of her spell rang in her head, she sprang out of bed and threw on clothes that weren’t pajamas. She wrapped Atropos around her shoulders, cast a notice-me-not charm and rushed out of her bag-flat. 

She crept down the stairs of the Dursleys house in the darkness of the early morning. She would need to open the front door as silently as possible to get out  to the corner of Privet drive and collect the mail from the postman himself. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stole across the dark hallway to the front door-

“AAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGG”

Cassie lept backwards, jumping out of her skin and nearly screaming. The lights clicked on a moment later and to her horror, Cassie saw Vernon angrily staring her down. Vernon had been lying in front of the door in a horrendously purple sleeping bag, presumably to stop her from doing exactly what she was doing. 

Vernon cuffed her on the ear and grabbed her chin, loudly lecturing her for about a half hour, occasionally banging her head against the wall for emphasis. Once Vernon was satisfied, he gruffly told her to go make him a cup of tea. She shuffled miserably towards the kitchen and began to boil the water. By the time she was finished making his tea how he liked it, no milk and 1 sugar, the mail had arrived right onto Vernon’s waiting lap. 

She scowled at the 3 letters addressed to her that Vernon was reaching for, “Those are mine! I want to-” She began and watched in horror as Vernon began to rip the letters into shreds.

She watched hopelessly throughout the day as Vernon nailed up the mail slot, staying home from work and telling Petunia with a grinning mouth full of nails that “If they can’t deliver the letters to the blasted brat, they’ll give up,” 

“I don’t think that’ll work Vernon-”

“Oh hush Pet. These people's minds work in strange ways, they’re not like us normal people,” He said, grinning and trying to knock a nail in with the piece of fruit cake Petunia had just brought him. 

—--------------

On Friday, at least 15 letters had arrived for Cassiopeia. The letters found all sorts of creative ways to get around the nailed mail slot, like being shoved in the cracks between the door, even a few forced through cracked open windows. 

Again, Uncle Vernon stayed home, boarding up all of the cracks in the house he could find with a hammer and nails. He burnt all the letters sent to her, sneering at her as she watched hopelessly.  He hummed and whistled several tunes while he worked, each one sounding more manic than the last. 

—--------------

Saturday, it was getting completely out of hand. Twenty four letters had come for her, rolled up inside the 2 dozen egg cartons that the incredibly confused milkman handed Petunia through the kitchen window, the only window in the house that still had the function to open and close. 

Vernon spent all morning by the landline, frantically making calls to anyone he could reach, the post office and the dairy to find someone to complain to about the absurd amount of letters. 

“Who wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked her, amazed. She shrugged back at him, marveling that this was the most civil conversation she’d ever had with Dudley Dursley in her entire life. 

—------------

On Sunday, Vernon had a sort of wild cheerfulness about him. He grinned maliciously at her, ‘No post on Sundays!” He crowed triumphantly while spreading marmalade on his toast. ‘No damn letters today-” 

Just then, a whizzing sound came from the chimney and something flew out of it and smacked him in the head. Then it happened again, and in the next second 40 letters came zooming out of the fireplace whipping the room into a frenzy. More letters flew through the fireplace and Cassie stood up and ran forward to go catch one. 

Vernon seized Cassie by the waist and began to try and throw her out. She fought his grip “Out! OUT” Vernon screamed.  Vernon threw Cassie into the hall through the open door and she hit the ground hard. Petunia and Dudley followed, fleeing the room with  their arms covering their faces and Vernon slammed the door shut behind them. She could still hear the letter whizzing out of the chimney and around the room, bouncing off of the floor, ceiling and wall of the room, and crashing into the door and furniture. 

“That’s it,” Vernon said calmly, while simultaneously pulling out tufts of his mustache. “Get back here in 5 minutes ready to leave. Pack only clothes, we’re going away,” He growled, and before Dudley opened his mouth added, “No arguments,” 

They were all staring at him wide eyed and when he turned his glare on her, she flinched. He looked so dangerous with chunks of his mustache missing and a deranged look in his eyes that they all obeyed and rushed to go pack. 

Ten minutes later, they were all sitting in the car, bags in the trunk, or in Cassie’s case, on her shoulder with her messenger bag, speeding towards the highway. Dudley was sniffling and rubbing his head where Vernon had hit him for  trying to pack his telly, VCR and computer. She felt kinda bad, and her own bruises from Vernon twinged in sympathy. 

They drove for hours, and no one dared ask where they were going. Anytime someone would open their mouth, Vernon’s wild gaze would shift to them and they would quickly close their mouth and return to staring out the window. Every now and then, Vernon would take a sharp turn and go the completely opposite direction for a while and then continue with… wherever they were going. 

They didn’t stop to eat or drink all day. By the time the sun was setting Dudley was howling about whatever he could think of. He was hungry, he hadn’t blown up an alien on his computer in what seemed like forever and he had missed 5 programs he’d wanted to watch on the telly. 

At last, Vernon came to a stop at a seedy looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Cassie shared a room with twin beds and musty, damp sheets. Dudley fell asleep fast and snored through the night, but Cassie stayed awake all night, talking with Atropos, and making theories on where they were going.

—------------

The next morning they ate stale cornflakes in milk close to expiring with cold tinned tomatoes on toast. They’d just finished when a woman, wearing a poorly made pantsuit with a name tag saying ‘owner’ above the name approached their table.

“ ‘Scuse me, but is one of you Ms. C. Potter-Black? Only I got about an ‘undred of these at the front desk” She held out a letter.  

Ms. C. Potter-Black

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth 

Cassiopeia leaped forward out of her seat to snatch the letter out of the woman's hand, but Vernon held her back by the scruff of her neck. ‘I’ll take them,” Vernon said, before following the woman out of the dining room. 

Hours later, while they were in the car, Petunia asked, “ Wouldn’t it just be easier to go home Dear?” Vernon completely ignored his wife, not showing a hint that he even heard her question. No one had any clue what Vernon was looking for. He’d get out of the car, look around, shake his head, climb back in and continue driving. 

Finally, he parked by the coast, got out and locked them all in the car. “Daddy’s gone mad hasn’t he?’ Dudley asked his mother. Petunia didn’t answer him. Great droplets of rain pelted the car, making dull thudding noises on the metal roof. 

“Today’s Monday,” Dudley sniffled, “The Great Humberto’s on tonight, I want to stay somewhere with a telly,” 

Monday, Cassiopeia realized. Today was Monday and tomorrow, Tuesday, was her birthday. Her thoughts wandered to that trunk of presents left by her parents that she’d promised to herself she’d open on her birthday. She felt tears come to her eyes at the thought of them and quickly blinked them away. She couldn't cry in the car with Petunia and Dudley. 

Vernon was back, and he was smiling. He was carrying a long thin package and wouldn’t answer anyone about what it was. Cassie had a sneaking suspicion about what it was. “I found the perfect place!” He crowed happily, “Come on! Everybody out!” 

The icy cold wind bit into Cassie, even through her thick sweater and pants. Rain poured down on them, soaking her hair and covering her glasses, making it hard to see. Vernon pointed to what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on the rock, was a miserable little shack that shook and buckled in the heavy wind.

“Storm forecast for tonight!” Vernon shouted gleefully over the wind, clapping his hands together. She glanced up at the gloomy sky. She could definitely tell Vernon the forecast. “And this gentleman has kindly agreed to lend us his boat!”

A toothless old man came stumbling towards them through the heavy wind and pointed, with a rather wicked grin, to an old rowboat bobbing up and down violently in the vicious iron-gray water below. 

“I’ve already got us some rations,” Vernon said, “so all aboard!” 

It was more freezing aboard the boat than on the docks.Icy sea spray and rain penetrated their clothes, soaking them to the bone. Cassie held on tightly to the boat and Atropos, summoning her magic to her fingertips to hopefully stabilize the boat and keep them warm. 

The boat suddenly stopped rocking as violently and the icy press of the wind died down to a strong gust ever now and then. Petunia narrowed her eyes at Cassiopeia, but didn’t say anything. They finally reached the rock and they all hauled themselves up onto the wet rock, where Vernon led the way, slipping and sliding to the broken down shack. 

The inside of the shack was somehow even worse than the outside. The thin walls offered no protection from the elements, except the majority of the rain. The wind rattled through gaps in the walls, the fireplace was damp and empty, not big enough to heat the 2 room shack. The smell of seaweed and dead fish was pungent and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

Vernon’s rations were a bag of potato chips and a banana for each of them. Vernon tried to start a fire with the empty chip bags, but all they did was smoke and shrivel up. 

“Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully.

Cassiopeia scowled at his good mood. Obviously he thought that no one had a chance of reaching them out here, surrounded by a violent sea and encased in a brutal storm. 

Privately, she agreed, but she didn’t want to say it. And the thought didn’t cheer her up as much as it cheered up Vernon. 

As night fell and the sky grew closer to pitch black, the storm blew up around them. Sprays form the high ways smacked violently against the walls of the hut and a savage wind rattled the walls and disgusting windows. 

Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second bedroom, and quickly began to make a bed for Dudley on the moldy and moth-eaten sofa in the first room. Petunia and Vernon claimed the lumpy, damp mattress in the second room, forcing Cassie to find the softest bit of floor and curl up with the thinnest, rattiest blanket she’d ever seen. 

The storm raged more ferociously as the night  trudged on and she waited, as still as she could to be sure that the Dursleys were all asleep. 

Once she could be sure, she sat up and shoved the blanket off of her. She snatched her messenger bag and shoved an arm inside of it, summoning her quilt from off of her bed. The material appeared in her hands and she stood up. She laid the quilt down on the ground, sat towards the left side, and tossed the right side over her crossed legs.

She reached out with her magic and cast as powerful  a warming charm as she could. She sighed in relief as the air warmed to a comfortable temperature and relaxed in her quilt. 

Cassiopeia grabbed her bag again, this time summoning her Papa’s trunk. She tapped the shrinking rune and set it on the floor so it could expand unhindered. She swung the lid open quietly and found the compartment with the gifts from when she turned two. 

She had turned one with her parents, so age two was a logical place to start. She reached for the first gift, a square box wrapped in soft pink paper with flower designs on it. 

She continued to open her gifts from years past. Most were things she had no use for, like a match the shape set from age 2, a first reader book from age 4. There were a few gifts which she kept outside of the trunk with her. An annotated copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard, a stuffed animal baby deer, a couple small pieces of jewelry and a beautiful music box.

She stopped right before age eleven, head aching from crying. Her cheeks were wet, face red and splotchy. Atropos was hissing comfortingly from her lap, curled around the baby deer. She put all the gifts away, packing them neatly into the trunk. She couldn’t throw any of them away. They were too important, things her parents had picked out, for her. She sobbed again and scrubbed at the tears on her face. Her shoulders shook silently, not wanting to wake Dudley who was sleeping right beside her. 

She checked her watch, 11:45. She should go to bed soon. Cassie glanced at the gifts for her 11th birthday. She’d open them, wish herself a happy birthday at 12 and then go to bed. She nodded determinedly. 

She reached for the gift from her Papa, all the gifts were wrapped based on which of her parents gave them. Her Papa got a black wrapping paper with gold marbling designs on it, Dad got a delft wrapping paper, and her mum got soft pink with floral designs. 

Her Papa got her a silver necklace with the Cassiopeia constellation on a delicate chain. She smiled softly and clasped in behind her neck. It fell in place beside her mum’s locket and her Papa’s Leo necklace, which she realized matched her own. She held the 2 pendants next to each other and compared them. 

One of the star’s on her Papa’s pendant was larger than the others, and from what she knew about astrology, was the Regulus star. Hers was just the Cassiopeia constellation. She dropped the two pendants to hang around her neck, smiling softly, and reached for the next gift. 

She tore open the beautiful paper and slid the object out of the paper. It was a beautiful dark blue music box with gold detailing on the sides, drawers and cover. She set it down on the floor and flipped the lid open slowly. A small porcelain ballerina spun in circles on a single pointe shoe, music softly coming from the music box inside. She smiled at the beautiful ballerina and picked up the small slip of parchment inside of the tray.

Prongslet, 

This jewelry box was my mother’s and she insisted I give it to you. Who am I to deny the force of nature that was Euphemia Potter? So at her bequest, this jewelry box is yours. I wish you the best 

With love, your father,

Prongs

She ran her finger over the signing of the notes softly. Cassie folded the parchment back up and dropped it into the tray of the jewelry box. She shut the lid quietly and smiled at it softly for a moment. 

She slid her thumb under the fold of the wrapping paper of her mother’s gift and slid it off of the box. She plucked a note taped down to the box and read it 

My lovely Flower,

Truth be told, I struggled with your gifts for the next 7 years. It is a tradition in the wizarding world (so I’m told) for the mother to give her daughter something called ‘proofs of magic’ Truly I had no idea what to give you. So, I settled on this. What’s in the box is a part of a custom 7 piece hair ornament that I commissioned the goblins to create and I charmed it and carved runes into it myself. There are a significant amount of protection spells woven into this, that won’t die until the entire population of the whole wizarding world dies (not just Britain, but the whole thing ) You can wear these individually or together in whatever order you want. It’s a choose your own adventure sort of thing. Now, usually girls wear these to formal events and on the train to Hogwarts, and all the pureblood lot will probably look at you weird if you don’t wear them. But, if your don’t want to wear them, don’t

I love you eternally,

Mum

A tear started to slide down her face, but she flicked it away with the back of her hand and reached for the box. Sliding the top off, she stared in amazement at the beautiful hair ornament. It was a silver ring, obviously meant to go around a bun with diamonds cascading down metal wire off of the main ring. She held the silver closer to her and she could see the tiny etchings of runes on the inside and outside of the disk. She could feel the protective magic radiating from it in waves and she gave the thing a watery grin. She could almost feel her mother. 

She slowly began to pack away all the things she’d taken out. The gifts, the jewelry box and the hair ornament. She stood and folded the quilt before shoving it into her messenger bag. After she was done, she glanced at her watch, 11:57, right on time.

She sat criss cross on the ground and began to draw the outlines of a cake in the dusty on the floor. Once she was done she glanced longingly at the fire and shivered. Pursing her lips, she reached out a hand and summoned her magic to the surface. Cassie narrowed her eyes at the shriveled up chip bags and imagined a cozy fire crackling away in the damp fire place. The bag sparked pitifully and she forced more magic at the fireplace. A warmth overtook her hand and suddenly there was a blazing fire crackling in the fireplace, warming the room. She sighed happily at the warmth radiating from the fire. 

A bang sounded outside and she glanced warily at the door, but ignored it in favor of glancing at her watch again. 11:59. She watched the second hand crawl towards the 12. There was another bang sounded like it was on the door, but the ocean was doing that anyway, and there was absolutely no way anyone would be crazy enough to come out here. There was a funny crunching noise and she thought the rock might be crumbling into the sea. 

The second hand reached 12 and she blew out the dust birthday candles. I wish to have my letter, She thought. She went to grab the ratty blanket she’d tossed to the side earlier and go to sleep when the door shuddered with a great BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Cassiopeia sat bolt upright staring intently at the door. There was someone out there.

Chapter Text

BOOM! The Person knocked again, and the whole shack shook to its foundations with the force. Dudley jerked awake, rolling off the couch and landing on the floor with an umph. “Where’s the cannon?” He asked, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes and Atropos hisses nervously from around her waist

There was a crash behind them and Vernon came skidding into the room with a long rifle, confirming Cassiopeia’s suspicions about just what the package was. 

“Who’s there!” Vernon shouted through the wind that still whistled through the rotting boards of the shack, “I warn you! I’m armed!” 

There was a pause, then, with a great bang from a shuddering force, the door came flying from its rusted hinges smashing against the floor, splintering at the corners and landing with a deafening crash.  

A giant man stood, towering over the doorway. His face was almost completely obscured by a wild, shaggy mane of hair and a long scraggly beard, only able to make out his pitch black eyes. 

The giant squeezed his way into the shack, stooping to only brush his head against the ceiling instead of tearing a hole through it with every movement. He bends down and grabs the edge of the door and slots it back into place roughly, the noise of the storm barely dropping. He turns to face them.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey..” The stranger says, striding to the sofa where Dudley had slept, and now sat frozen in front of, where he had fallen off. 

The stranger slumps into the ratty cushions of the couch with a grunt. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide, rather unsuccessfully, behind his mother, who was also hiding (much more successfully) behind Vernon. 

“An’ here’s Cassie,” the giant said. Cassie froze and looked at the stranger's face, still largely hidden behind his mane of hair and was able to make out coal black eyes wrinkled in a wide smile. Instinctively she smiles hesitantly back, and the strangers smile widens. 

“Last' time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant, gesturing with one hand and Atropos hisses menacingly at the movement, “Could fit yeh in the palm of my hand,” She glanced at his hand, and definitely didn’t doubt that “Yeh looked a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got some of yer mum’s features, especially the eyes, yer got yer mum’s eyes. 

Vernon made a funny rasping noise, “I demand you leave at once!” he said, false bravado wavering in his voice and she could see his legs quivering, “you’re breaking and entering,” 

“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” The giant said, rolling his eyes and reaching over the back of the sofa, he jerked the gun out of Vernon’s grasp and bent it into a knot bearing a jarring number of similarities to a pretzel like it was rubber and tossed into a corner of the room. 

Vernon made another funny noise, this one sounding much more like a whimper. 

“Anyway- Cassie,” said the giant, turning away from  the Dursleys and back to Cassiopeia, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh, - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right,”

From an inside pocket of his massive black overcoat, he pulled out a only slightly squashed cake box. The giant passed it over to her and she opened it slowly and with trembling fingers. Inside was a large sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Cassie written over it in bright green icing. She smiled waterly at the cake, the first one she’d ever remembered receiving for a birthday. 

Cassie looked up at the giant, who rather reminded her of the BFG, from a Roald Dahl story she’d read once. She’d meant to say thank you, but the words seemed to clog in her throat, and instead came out as “Who are you?” 

The giant chuckle. “I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Ground at Hogwarts,” he held out an enormous hand and shook Cassie’s whole arm. “What about that tea then, eh?” he said, subbing his hands together, “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind,”

Petunia and Vernon made nervous eye contact. He looked towards the empty grate that held the remains of the shriveled chip bags and the small amount of ashes from her own fire, minutes before. He lumbered over to the fireplace and bent down. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but a moment later he pulled back and he left a roaring fire. 

The light of the crackling fire filled the hut in dim orange flickering light, filling the hut with a warm heat that made Cassiopeia like she’d sunk into a hot bath. 

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa, which  sagged underneath his weight and began taking out all sorts of things from his pockets, such as a copper kettle, a half squashed pack of sausages, a poker (how did that even fit?) a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle with an amber liquid that was definitely alcohol, the kind she couldn’t identify, which he took a swig of, before sliding it back into his overcoat and beginning to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausages. Neither the Dursleys or Cassiopeia said anything while the giant cooked the sausages. For a lack of thing to do, she just began to slowly and discreetly run her fingers along Atropos's scales.

When Hagrid slid the first six fat, juicy sausages from the poker, Dudley figited from his place behind his mother, “Don’t touch a thing he gives you Dudley,” Vernon said sharply. Cassie rolled her eyes and Hagrid furrowed his brow in question, before he passed the sausages to Cassie, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful. She tore off a small bit from one discreetly and offered it to Atropos, who complained about not catching it, but ate it anyway. As Hagrid returned to the fire to continue to cook sausages, and the rest of them simmered in an awkward silence Cassie opened her mouth, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are,” 

The giant took a swig of tea and wiped his mouth, more rather his beard, with the back of his hand. 

“Like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course,”

“Er - no, actually,” Cassiopeia said. She did, of course, know about Hogwarts, not much, but the basics. Somehow the more intricate details of the school she would be attending slipped her mind during her travels for the more interesting parts of magic. 

Hagrid looked shocked. 

“Sorry,” She said quickly, unsure if she’d done anything wrong. 

“Sorry?!” Barked Hagrid, whipping around to stare at the Dursleys , who shrank backward underneath the giant’s glare “It’s them who should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters, but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Didn't yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”

“All what?” Cassie asked, playing dumb. 

 “ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered, glaring daggers at the Dursleys “Now wait jus’ one second!” Cassie could admit that she was definitely letting Hagrid’s outrage take place, if only to hear someone yell at her relatives. 

Hagrid pulled himself to his feet. He seemed to fill the whole hut with his anger and the Durlsey cowered further into the wall with their fear. 

“Do you mean ter tell me,” He growled menacingly at the Dursleys, “that this girl, knows nothin abou’ about ANYTHING!” 

“I know some stuff!” She protested petulantly, “I’m good at maths and science!”

Hagrid waved his hand, dismissing her words, “About our world. I mean, yer world, my world, yer parent’s world,”

“What world,” She stared at him, uncomprehendingly, inwardly giggling. Man, she was good at this clueless stuff. 

Hagrid looked like he was going to spontaneously combust. “DURSLEY!” He bellowed. 

Vernon, who had suddenly gone ghostly pale, whimpered something that sounded remarkably like “Mimblewimble,” 

Hagrid turned wildly to face Cassie, “But yeh must know about yer mum and dad,” he said desperately, “I mean, they’re famous , you’re famous,” 

“What? My- my mum and dad weren’t famous,” 

Hagrid seemed to be having an existential crisis, collapsing onto the couch and cupping his face in his enormous hands. “Yeh don’ know what yeh are,” He said hopelessly. 

Vernon suddenly found his spine, and his voice, “STOP! Stop right there! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!” Vernon Dursley crumbled over the furious glare that Hagrid leveled him with, and when Hagrid spoke, every syllable of his words quivered with unadulterated rage. 

“You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him?” Her gaze sharpened at the mention of Dumbledore’s name “I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it from her all these years?!” 

“Kept what from me,” asked Cassie eagerly, knowing full well that it was the existence of the magical world. 

“STOP! I FORBID YOU” Vernon screamed in panic and Cassie barely suppressed a giggle. 

Hagrid rolled his eyes and turned to her, “Yer a witch Cassie,” 

Silence suppressed the hut. Only the crashing sea and the whistling wind could be heard. 

“I’m a what?” Cassie gasped, still playing dumb. 

“A witch o’ course,” said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which was nearly crumbling to the floor. “An’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yer trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yers, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s about time yeh read yer letter,” 

Cassie reached out to grab the aforementioned letter. The same heavy yellowish envelope with the Hogwarts crest, stamped into the emerald green seal. 

Ms. C. Potter-Black, 

The Floor

Hut on a rock

The sea

She slid a thumb under the lip of the envelope and slid the letter out. 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards. 

Dear Ms. Potter Black.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress.

She scowled at the top of the letter reminding her that Albus bloody Dumbledore was the headmaster of her new school. Her thoughts whirled, trying to come up with the first question that she should ask, to keep her clueless front. 

“What does it mean, they await my owl?” 

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” Hagrid said, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock her over if it was her he was hitting instead. He reached into yet another pocket and pulled out a real, ruffled looking owl out of his coat pocket. Her mouth gaped in shock, not at the owl, that was normally by now, but how unethical was it to keep an owl in a coat pocket? He also pulled out a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled down a note that Cassie could read. 

Hagrid rolled up his rote, and held it out to the still ruffled looking owl.. The owl took the note in its beak, then we took the owl and threw it out into the storm. He came back from the window and sat down on the ever sagging couch.

Cassie quickly realized that her mouth was still agape from the owl in the pocket thing and quickly shut her mouth with a snap. 

“Now, Where was I? '' said Hagrid, but at that moment, Vernon, still paper white but looking, very, very angry, moved into the glow of the firelight. 

“She’s not going,” He said defiantly.

Hagrid grunted, “I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her,” he said. 

“And I suppose a muggle is a derogatory term for not magical folk?” She cut in.

“Er- no,” Hagrid started,

“So, if I called you a Muggle, you wouldn't be offended? Because the way you said it, it was definitely meant to be insulting,” 

The entire shack was staring at her in shocked silence, before Hagrid began to defend himself, “It’s just what we magical folk call non magicals, there’s nothin’ bad ‘bout it,” he frowned. 

“To you it might be, but the way that you use it definitely subconsciously implies a superiority of magical people doesn’t it.” she said, a piercing stare cutting into Hagrid. He stared at her, stumbling over his own words for a moment. 

“We swore when we took her in, we’d put a stop to that rubbish!,” Vernon cut through the silence, “swore we’d stamp it out of her!”

“You knew, ” snarled Cassie, “You knew I’m a - a witch?”

“Knew!” Shrieked Petunia suddenly, “Knew! Of course we knew! How could we not know! My dratted sister being what she was. She just got that blasted letter and just like that she disappeared off to that- that school , and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she actually was. A freak.” She spat, “But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!” 

She stopped to draw in a deep breath then continued rattling on. The words poured out of her, like she’d been bottling them up for years. 

“Then she met that Potter at school and then went off and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as, as, abnormal, and then, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!” 

“Blown up?” Cassie gritted out, “You told me they died in a car crash!” 

“A CAR CRASH!” Bellowed Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the shack shook and the Dursleys scuttled back into the wall more. “How could a measly car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Cassie Potter not knowin’ her own story when every kid in our world knows her name!” 

“But why? What happened,” Cassie asked urgently. 

The anger faded from Hagrid's face, and he seemed to be more… hopeless. “I never expected this,” he said, in a low worried voice, “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Cassie, I don’ know if I should be the one ter tell yeh, but someone’s gotta, the can’t go off to Hogwarts not knowing. 

Hagrid continued to reluctantly recite the story of her parent's deaths she’d heard before, and she asked the appropriate questions and acted properly shocked the whole time. 

The Dursleys continued to argue with Hagrid, and somewhere in the chaos of them arguing about insulting Albus Dumbledore, Dudley had reached Cassiopeia’s cake, and began to take large bites of the chocolate cake. Hagrid whirled on his and jabbed his baby pink umbrella at Dudley’s packside where a curly pig's tail now sprouted out of a new hole in the boy’s trousers. 

Vernon roared and pulled Dudley and Petunia into the other room, casting one last terrified glance at Hagrid, and a less terrified and more wary glare at her. 

“Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, scratching at his scraggly beard. He cast a sideways glance at Cassie under his bushy brows, “Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts,” he said, “I’m not er, not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’.  I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow you an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff, one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job.  

Her eyes narrowed, “I won’t tell anyone if you undo that pig tail in the morning,” she threatened, and Hagrid reluctantly nodded, “I’ll hold you to it,” 

“It’s gettin’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow, said Hagrid, “Gotta get yer books an’ all that,” Hagrid swung his thick black overcoat off of his shoulders and gave it to Cassie. 

“You can kip under that,” he said, “don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o’ dormice in one o’ the pockets,”

How many pockets could one coat have? 

Cassie woke to a tapping on one of the grimy windows and Atropos sticking his tongue in her ear to waker her up. "ew, Atropos, that's gross," She hissed, flicking his head playfully while he laughed at her. She blearily blinked the sleep out of her eyes, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the windows. She threw Hagrid’s coat off of her, and walked to the window. An owl was repeatedly tapping on the window with its claw. She slid the window up to let the owl and it began to fly insistently around her head. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, still grumpy from sleep, “I gotta pay, slow down,” 

She pulled Hagrid’s coat towards her and began to rummage through the absurd amount of pockets and found several Knuts, and just began to give them to the owl, until it was satisfied. It dropped The Daily Prophet, and flew out through the window and she followed behind to close it. 

She stifled a yawn and began to shake Hagrid awake. Hagrid grunted sleepily, but sat up, yawning loudly and stretching. 

“We best be off Cassie, lots ter do today. Gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school. 

Cassie shot him a look from where she was rekindling the fire to make tea, “Not before you fix Dudley’s tail,”

“Not before I fix Dudley’s tail,” Hagrid grumbled, “temper jus’ like yer mum’s I swear,” Cassie preened in pride at the comparison and subtly shot a spark of magic from her finger at the remnants of lasts nights fire to rekindle it.

“The paper’s here, she said absentmindedly, “I paid the owl that came with it a bunch of those little bronze coins until it flew away,” 

“Good, good,” Hagrid grunted sleepily from his sitting position on the couch. She grabbed the kettle and set it in the roaring flames, beginning to boil water. She grabbed the poker and stuck several sausages on it, for both her and Hagrid. 

She continued to make breakfast, and once they had both eaten, she strong-armed Hagrid into walking into the second room, where Petunia, Vernon and Dudley were all asleep to fix Dudley’s tail. 

That done, they swept out of the shack and to the boat that she and the Dursley’s had taken over. They skipped across the water in the boat that Hagrid had made go faster through magic, reaching the shore in no time. As Hagrid began to walk away she gave him a look and he turned around, staring at her incredulously, “ Really?” he asked. 

“Yes, really, ” she said, “Now send the boat back,” Hagrid grunted, but acquiesced, tapping the boat several times with his baby pink umbrella. They watched as the boat went speeding across the water again. Cassiopeia nodded in satisfaction, turned on her heel and began to walk away. 

People stared at Hagrid strangely as they walked through the small town to the station. Cassie really couldn’t blame anyone. Hagrid was about twice as tall as everyone else and had a sort of intimidating aura about him, even if he was perfectly friendly. 

She continued to pester him with pointless questions that she already knew the answer too, and some she didn’t, to keep up appearances, On the train, Hagrid took up two seats and again, reached into yet another pocket to pull out a pair of needles with what looked like a canary yellow circus tent on the needles. 

“Still got yer letter Cassie?” He asked counting stitches. She held up the mention envelope in between her pointer and middle finger.

“Good, good,” nodded Hagrid, “There’s a list there of everything yeh need,”

Cassie unfolded the second piece of paper she hadn’t noticed before. 

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
5. One formal uniform (black)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags. 

Course books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

She looked down at the list, she recognized the majority of these books from the display in Flourish & Blotts, and she’d even read some of them. Hagrid led her into the Leaky Cauldron, and she began to tug Hagrid through the bar, not letting him stop and talk to the multitude of people that recognized him, not wanting him to shout out for the whole bar that she was Cassie Potter, the ‘girl who lived’. 

She made eye contact with a pale, nervous looking man. Her scar burned upon eye contact and she flinched and began to pull Hagrid even faster through the bar. 

Her thoughts were spinning as they reached the back. If her scar was burning around that man, and Gornuk had said that her scar was, what was it, a horcrux, what did that mean for the man? Was he working with Voldemort? She rested a hand on Atropos and he curled slowly around her hand in comfort.

She was so distracted she didn't even notice Hagrid opening the doorway to Diagon Alley. 

“Tell me about Hogwarts,” she said quickly, trying to distract herself, “You mentioned earlier, when I was asking you questions about a house system?”

Hagrid seemed a bit off kilter but he answered her question anyway, “Yes, yer right. The house system. Well, there’s four houses, Gryfindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.” He said, “Yer sorted when you get ter Hogwarts, Gryffindors for the brave and courageous, Hufflepuff for yer loyal and honest folk, Ravenclaws for the brainy type, creativity, intelligence, that lot, Slytherin is for the ambitious and clever”

“Yer don’ wanna be put in Slytherin. Ruddy lot is as evil as they come. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are alright, but I don’ reckon you’ll end anywhere but Gryffindor,' ' Hagrid chuckled.

Cassiopeia furrowed her brow, glancing up at Hagrids towering figure, “So, being sorted into Slytherin is predicting that every single eleven year old put into that house is evil?”

“Well-” Hagrid frowned.

“So shouldn't we just arrest every innocent eleven year old that is sorted into Slytherin simply for being ambitious?” Cassiopeia sneered sarcastically.

“The whole house is rife with Death Eaters! They all sided with Voldemort, and you shouldn’t like em cause’ they side with your parents' murderer!” Hagrid retorted, staring at her incredulously. 

“And why do you think that is?” She derided, “What you're doing is encouraging them into joining that cycle of prejudice we inherit from our parents! That kind of mindset is the reason people sided with Voldemort!” Cassiopeia said desperately. She paused, “Well, also the pureblood bigotry, but the societal outcasting of Slytherin from the rest of the Hogwarts population definitely didn’t help,” 

Hagrid goes silent and  they walk in silence. “Hagrid, what house were you in?” She says, trying to ease the tense silence. 

“I was a Slytherin myself, but I was expelled in me third year for…” He cuts himself of, “But being a Slytherin just showed me how dark the whole lot were,” 

Hagrids words are derogatory, but there’s something.. Off about them. Like there’s part of the story that she’s missing. There’s an inflection of fondness in his tone that doesn’t fit what he’s saying. 

Her head is racing with theories, each darker than the last. Her thoughts wander to her own blood test, and the magical manipulations revealed in the heavy parchment. She flicks her eyes up to Hagrid’s face sharply, examining him carefully. She isn’t looking for anything specific, but she still watches him carefully. 

Her gaze returns to the crush of people in front of them and contemplates her options. Hagrid seemed like a decent guy, and if Dumbledore was manipulating him too, there could be hundreds of people all being puppeteered unknowingly by a man trying to play chess master with the population of magical Britain. 

It could have untold consequences if Hagrid also had spells cast on him. Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the perfect prime spot to target the youth of magical society, manipulating their thoughts to his whims and goals. Dumbledore is shaping up to be the shadowy figure in the background, while the main showy antagonist of the novel commits horrid acts of violence front and center, he’s in the background, manipulating everything behind the scenes. 

She starts to piece together a plan. She discreetly sticks a hand inside of her satchel and summons her communication journal and a biro out of her bag. Remaining as quiet as possible, she scribbles out a note to Gornuk. 

Gornuk, does Gringotts blood tests work on half giants?

He had to be a half giant. There was no other way he would be that big. She kept the journal in her hand, continuing to walk beside Hagrid silently, thoughts whirling. 

The journal warms, and she flicks it open, reading Gornuk’s response

Heiress Peverell, 

To the best of my knowledge, it should work. May I ask why you ask?

She grinned triumphantly and quickly responded. 

Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts shows signs of magical manipulation like I had.

Very well, I will have a goblin be ready to receive you both and bring him for a blood test. 

She smiled at his response and dropped both the journal and the biro into her satchel, the weight disappearing immediately like usual. She strode into the bank, Hagrid following confusedly at her confidence. 

She approached the goblin off to the side, immediately recognising Srassa, who winked at her. She winked back and shared a small smile with her. “Come with me,” Srassa instructed and quickly turned around to lead them deeper into the bank.

“But-,” Hagrid protested, “Dumbledore told me to get the money and get out and do one bit of business for him! We weren't supposed to do anything else!” 

Srassa and Cassiopeia both ignored him and continued walking, forcing Hagrid to follow hastily in their footsteps. 

They reached the same room for blood tests that Cassie had done hers in. Srassa swung the door open, gesturing them both in. Cassie entered the room quickly, Hagrid followed reluctantly, not having to duck his head because of the tall ceilings of the caverns. 

Onyxclaw sat behind the desk, filling out forms with a quill. 

“Good day, may your enemies blood flow and your coffers never empty” Cassiopeia said, ignoring the strange look she received from Hagrid

Onyxclaw looked up from her work, eyes flicking between Cassie and Hagrid “May your gold always flow and your enemies quiver,” She gestured to the chairs, “Take a seat” 

Cassiopeia sat in the offered chair, Hagrid looking towards the closing door where Srassa had just left hopelessly, “We were only supposed to get money and the package fer Dumbledore,” He said nervously. 

She turned to him, making her expression as sad as possible, thinking puppy dog eyes, puppy dog eyes, “Please Hagrid?” She pleaded, “For my parents?” She saw the exact moment he crumbled, his expression softening and he turned away fully, walking toward the other seat. 

She smirked, hiding her face from Hagrid and quickly smoothed her expression. Onyxclaw looked at her amusedly. 

“Who will be the one taking the test today?” 

“He will,” She quickly said, interjecting as Hagrid opened his mouth to speak. Onyxclaw flicked her eyes over to Hagrid. 

“Very well,” Onyxclaw said,  before hanging Hagrid a dagger, a piece of parchment, a potion, and a bowl. “Take the potion and dump it in the ritual bowl. Use the ritual dagger and drip seven drops of blood into the potion, use your bleeding finger to stir it counterclockwise thrice and pour it onto the parchment. 

Hagrid slowly took the proffered tools, holding the dagger carefully, setting the parchment and bowl on the desk. He popped the cork out of the vial with a thumb and tipped the bottle hesitantly into the ritual bowl. He pricked his finger on the dagger and squeezed his finger over the bowl, allowing 7 drops of blood to fall.  The potion was a swirling silver but quickly turned to a blood red when his blood was added and slowly turned into an inky color when stirred counterclockwise. Hagrid lifted the bowl and pour it over the parchment

The potion blood mixture swirled around on the paper for a few seconds before seeping into the paper. After a moment words began to write themselves onto the page. 

The Inheritance Test/Blood Test of Rubeus Hagrid

Name: Rubeus Hagrid

Mother: Fridwulta (Giantess)(Deceased) 

Father: Henry Hagrid (deceased)

Godfather : None

Godmother: None

Lordships/Heirships

None

Potions, Spells and Blocks

Potions

Loyalty Potion

Keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Gryffindor House

Clueless Potion

Spells

Diffidentia Homines

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Keyed to Slytherin House

Minus Humano

Magical traces from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

“This has to be wrong!” Hagrid growled, standing up sharply from his chair, the chair nearly falling over from the force. Atropos jolted backwards and hissed severally threats of dismemberment at the sudden movement.

Cassiopeia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “That bloody test is wrong! Dumbledore’s a good man, he wouldn’t do such a thing!” 

“We never said it was Dumbledore,” Cassie said quietly and Hagrid froze

“Well, it said so on that very test,” Hagrid said wildly, gesturing to the test.

“Who says that the magical trace is actually from Dumbledore? It could just be a mistaken remnant,” Cassiopeia made apologetic eye contact with Onyxclaw for doubting the truth of the test, but Master Onyxclaw simply raised an eyebrow at her. “It could be someone framing Dumbledore, to get him into trouble. Isn’t it better to remove them anyway, just to be sure about their presence?”

Hagrid pauses and Cassiopeia seizes the opportunity, pressing on, “This isn’t about whether Dumbledore is responsible, but about making sure you’re not being messed with,”

Hagrid nodded slowly, “Alrigh’,” Hagrid said gruffly, “Where do I go?” Onyxclaw snapped her fingers and a runner goblin swung the door open, gestured for Hagrid to follow him, turned on his heel and left, Hagrid following behind. 

“That was some rather heavy handed manipulation,” Onyxclaw said, an unreadable tone in her voice. 

“It’s for his own good,” She said stubbornly “It’s making him someone who he’s not. That’s Dumbeldore’s fault. I want to fix it,”

“When does for his own good turn into ‘for the greater good,’?”

She freezes and clenches her fists. She recognized that phrase. Mainly from philosophy books she’d powered through in the Little Whinging library back at the Dursleys, ignoring that they were above her age group. It also pinged a distant memory. One about Dumbeldore. She’d found a biography, talking about his past and his efforts in the war, even if it seemed heavily edited to her, the phrase ‘For the Greater Good’ Was definitely present. 

She scowled and followed after the runner goblin and Hagrid. 

Hagrid was sitting on a cot after the ritual, staring blankly at his hands. She sat on the bed next to him, searching his face. “How you doing?” She asks. 

Hagrid doesn’t respond and there’s an awkward silence where neither of them speak. “He did the same thing to me, ya’know,” She continued, ignoring Hagrid’s surprised expression, “To be fair, at the time I didn’t know who he was so I just felt this.. Unbridled rage towards a man I’d never met. And I don’t know how I’m going to avoid wanting to punch him in the face when I go to Hogwarts. But I know I’ll figure it out, because that’s a really stupid thing to get in trouble for, and a surefire way to get expelled, punching a headmaster-” She rambling, but is cut off by Hagrid’s chuckles. 

His laughter quickly turns into a full ebay laugh and she joins him, giggling at herself. “Thanks kid,” He says gruffly, ruffling her hair. She smiled up at him, only barely stopping herself from flinching at the contact. “You ramble like yer mum,” He says, something nostalgic in his eyes. Her grin fades into something small and sad. He stares at her for another moment, like he’s seeing someone who’s not there. 

“I just, can’t believe that old Dumbledore would do that,” He says, shocked, “I’d always thought Dumbledore was a good man, let me in ‘Hogwarts after all, me bein a ‘alf giant and all, but to think he’d do something like this, not ter jus’ me, bu’ you too,”

“Yeah,” she says, unsure what to say to him. Onyxclaw’s words ring in her head. “I guess it was ‘for the greater good’” She says. Hagrid snorts and begins to curse Dumbeldore quietly under his breath. 

She’s actually a bit shocked at the range and creativity of his curse words, and stares at him open mouthed. He pauses abruptly, realizing that she can hear him and they both break out into hearty chuckles.

“How did you even figure out ‘bout the spells,” He says, eyes flicking over to her. 

She squirms for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer, before just deciding on the truth, they were in this ‘hate Dumbledore because he cast spells on me,’ club together, might as well tell the truth. “The Dursley’s kicked me out,” She says, avoiding looking in his direction, “I.. brought a snake into the house, and they, er, they didn’t like it very much. So they kicked me out. Got some advice from a librarian, who is definitely magical, and walked to Milford, got some money, and took the train to London. And spent some time exploring Diagon Alley, the rest of Celestial Plaza and took the inheritance test like you just did, the rest is history,” 

Hagrid narrows his eyes at her, “You’re leaving something out ,” he says, “How did you get this money, where have you been staying, and what happened to the snake?”

Cassie looks guilty at the floor before reluctantly answering, “I.. stole the money, and I’ve been staying at one of my family properties,” 

Hagrid raised an eyebrow at her, "And yer snake?"

She hesitantly pulls Atropos out  from where he's wrapped around her torso, under her sweater and hiding from sight. Hagrid immediately begins to coo at Atropos who is very much being grumpy about it

"Tell this human to leave me alone so I can go back to sleep," He pouts grumpily.

"Alright, alright,"

"Hagrid I think that he wants to go back to sleep. Hagrid seems reluctantly to say goodbye to Atropos but he does. They sit in silence for several moments. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not awkward either, “We should get my school things now,” she says weakly. 

Hagrid stands up with a grunt and offers a hand to help her up, she takes it gratefully, even if it’s not necessary. He ruffled her hair again, “What do you think about a wand first, he says, grinning at her. 

“I think a wand sounds wonderful,” She says, grinning back at him.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia trails after Hagrid in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, carefully using the space he makes behind him as he lumbers through the crowd, towering the heads of the other people on the street. 

He leads her to Ollivanders, and he holds the door open for her. She smiles in thanks and steps into the shop. The store’s air is stale and there’s a fine spray of dust coating just about every surface in the shop. She can almost hear the magic in some of the wands calling out to her. 

A man comes bustling out of the back, with a shock of white hair and ancient looking eyes. He looks at her like he sees through her to the wall behind her. 

“Ah yes,” He says in a horse whisper, approaching her quickly, one hand reaching out for her face, “Cassiopeia Potter-Black. I’ve been expecting you,”

She leans away from the hand he’s reaching towards her face, Atropos hissing softly at the man and he quickly pulls away. “It seems like just yesterday I had your mother and father in my shop buying their first wands. Quite the spit fire your mother was, and a dad hand at charms and potions. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow ” Ollivander, (she presumes) mumbles to himself, milky silver eyes wide and staring straight at her down to her soul. 

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.

She blinks, a little bit overwhelmed at the man in front of her. Hagrid chuckles behind her and takes a seat in a rickety wood chair that she thinks might splinter beneath his weight at any second. 

Ollivander, in the moment she’d looked away, had found a tape measure and was holding it up, “Now Ms. Potter-Black, which arm is your wand arm?”

“Er,” she says, “I’m left handed?” she says, holding her left arm out infront of her awkwardly. Olivander then measures her from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head, all incredibly weird things to measure for something as simple as a wand. 

As he measured, he spoke, “Every Ollivander wand has a core with a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are the same And of course, you never get as good results with another's wand. 

 The tape measure, at some point in his small speech had begun to measure of its own accord and Ollivander was at the shelves, pulling down boxes from their haphazard piles and beginning to stack them on a dusty wooden desk. Ollivander waved his hand and the tape measure, which had previously been measuring between her nostrils, rolled itself tightly into a roll and settled neatly back in Ollivander’s pocket. 

Once Ollivander had built up a pile high enough that Cassiopeia thinks could feed a small fire, he gets off of his ladder and begins to present the wands to Cassie, one by one. 

“Try this one. Beech wood and Dragon Heartstring. Nine inches, nice and flexible. Just go on and give it a wave.”

Cassiopeia hesitantly took the wand and began to wave it slightly, feeling foolish, but Ollivander almost immediately snatched the wand out of her hand. He placed the wand to the side and reached for another, 

“Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy,”

Cassie again took the wand and barely got through half a wave, before that wand too was snatched out of her hand. 

“No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and half inches, springy,”

Cassie tried, and tried. She had no idea what  Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of wands was steadily growing higher on the spindly chair Ollivander was stacking them on. Strangely, the more wands Ollivander pulled from their places on the shelves, the happier he became. 

Several of the wands she tried created some sort of destruction. An applewood wand seemed to throw a fit at her touch, exploding several shelves and rattling the store. Hagrid yelped and the chair beneath him finally gave way and was reduced to splinters. He grimaced and brushed the wood pieces off of his coat and she returned to trying out the wands. Atropos had very suddenly wrapped himself tighter around her waist before he hissed out, “I don’t want any part in your blowing up this shop, I’m going to bed in your bag,” She smothers a laugh at his petulant tone and covers Atropos as he moves from under her shirt to inside her satchel. 

A cherry wand with a unicorn tail core seemed to have an adverse reaction to her, exploding a vase of flowers on one of the remaining shelves. Another wand, chestnut and dragon heartstring made a cold wind sweep through the shop, rattling the windows and the wands in their boxes, before Ollivander snatched the wand out of Cassiopeia’s hand. A swish of a dogwood wand had the ruins of the chair Hagrid had sat on catching flame, which was quickly doused with Ollivander’s own wand. A hazel wand had thrown itself out of her hand and joined the pile of wands on the spindly chair. 

No matter how many wands she went through Ollivander seemed  to grow more and more excited with each failed wand and new piece of furniture reduced to 

“I wonder…” Ollivander said, once they’d reached the end of the stack that he’d curated. 

“Wonder what?” She asked, but was ignored as Ollivaner disappeared into the depths of the shop and came back out with a singular box. Ollivander was staring at her with a piercing gaze. “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple,” 

She took the wand from Ollivanders hands and the wand shuddered oddly in her hand before spontaneously bursting into flames. The wood crumbled to ash, slipping through her clenched fist. The phoenix feather curled in on itself turning black and ashy. 

She dropped the remnants of the wand to the floor and Ollivander stared at her strangely. “Curious… Very curious indeed,”

“What’s curious?”

“That wand, or what is left of it, the core of the wand and the phoenix that gave it just so happened to have given another. I sold the wand that contained the twin core to the man who gave you that scar,” Ollivander said as he reached a shaking finger towards the arcing lightning bolt scar that cut through her eye and across her nose. 

She slowly moved away from his touch, swallowing and laughing nervously. “Can we, er, can we try another wand now?” She asked, cutting through the heavy silence in the shop.

Ollivander blinked out of his stupor and rushed back to the shelves and began to pull more wands down. “Yes, yes of course,” he said. 

They went through several different wands, some of them having the same adverse reactions she’d been getting. They reached a point where Ollivander had stopped telling her what the wand was, and started to just hand her the wand silently. 

The final one that Ollivander handed her, she took carefully like all the other wands. Different from the rest, this wand warmed in her fingertips and gave her a sense of right even before she swished the wand. She waved her hand and magic came bursting out of her, flowing through the wand. 

The room was caught up in a swirl, the shelves realigned themselves on the wall, the chair Hagrid had crushed and she’d later set on pieced itself back together, leaving no trace of the previous fire. The shattered vase reassembled itself, the flowers and water returning to their spot. The fine layer of dust on everything vanished before their eyes and the ever growing pile of wands slotted themselves back into their boxes, returning to the shelves. 

The clatter in the room died down and she found herself grinning at the black wand in her hand, before looking around the room in wonder. “Marvelous, just marvelous!” Ollivander exclaimed, “Ebony wood, with a phoenix feather core, eleven and a half inches, and supple flexibility. Highly suited to combative magic and transfiguration. A wand of an independent person who will hold fast to their beliefs. Yes, yes… You will do a great many things with this wand,”

While Ollivander rambled about her wand, she was only half listening. She raked her eyes over her new wand. Her wand! It was beautiful. By the handle, it was wider, the wood separating into different tendrils, twisting around each other before they all combined to form the rest of the wand before it ended in a sharp point. She twirled the wand in her hand and grinned. 

She paid and left the store, letting Hagrid lead the way. 

The rest of their shopping went well, and she didn’t even glare at the employee in Flourish & Blotts! She’d already explored all of the stores, so there wasn’t many new things to see, and it was a rather uneventful trip. 

The last step they had was to get her school robes at Madam Malkins, apparently the only place that carried the robes. Hagrid paused outside of the door and turned to face her, “Yeh don’t mind if I left yeh here for just a bit, to get yeh a present would yer?” 

Cassiopeia stood there stunned for a moment before nodding her assent. Hagrid smiled at her and ruffled her hair before turning and facing the crowd again. She shook off her surprise at someone that wasn’t her parents wanting to get her a present and smoothed her hair out before stepping into the shop. 

The bell jingled softly as she entered the store and someone from the back called out “One minute love!” in a harried voice. She waited by the door rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and feeling rather awkward before a witch came up to her.

“Happy day, may the Great Mother bless you” The harried looking witch said, “I’m Madam Malkin, Hogwarts robes, dear?” 

“Happy day, may the Great Mother bless you, and yes I'm her for school robes,” 

“Got the lot here - a young man being fitted up just now, in fact,” she said, quickly ushering Cassiopeia to the back. 

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale pointed face was standing on a footstool while another witch pinned his long black robes. Madam Malkin motioned for Cassiopeia to step up onto another footstool and she obliged. 

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” 

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can’t have one of their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow,”

Cassie frowned, “I’m not quite sure that’ll work in your favor, if you get caught, you’d have the chance of being expelled, or being banned from your house's quidditch team or banned from ever bringing a broom to school ever again,”

They looked at her weirdly and murmured something under his breath. “Have you got your own broom?” He asked

“No, I don’t. I wish I had one though, I’ve been wanting to try one for ages, but there never seems to quite be the opportunity,” She said. It was true, ever since learning about brooms, they’d fascinated her. She’d completely forgotten to ask the elves at Black Castle if they had any brooms and she hadn’t had the chance to get her hands on one. 

“Quite a shame,” the boy said, before he seemed to realize something, “I’m Heir Draco Malfoy,” He said proudly, sticking out a hand as best as he could with the witch pinning his robes. 

She held out her hand in response to shake “Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black, well met,”

His mouth dropped open in shock before he quickly closed it, “W-Well met Heiress Potter-Black, is there, is there any chance you’re related to Cassie Potter?” He asked, clearing his throat. 

She raised an eyebrow, “I’d hope I’d be related, considering I am Cassie Potter,”  she said. The witch doing Draco's robes made a small squeaking noice before announcing that Draco’s robes were done and he stepped off the platform as the witch removed the pinned robes. 

“I wasn’t aware that there was a Black heir, let alone that it was you!” He exclaimed,  before quickly backtracking, “No offense of course,” 

She smiled sharply, “None taken, and let’s just say life’s full of mysteries. ” 

Draco eyed her warily, “So, how did no one know? And where have you been all these years?”

“You’re done, dear,” Madam Malkin interrupted, “Your robes will be ready for pickup in an hour,”

“Thank you,” she smiled at the woman before walking away, Draco trailing behind her like she’d predicted. 

“No one knew, because I didn’t know, and I’ve been in the muggle world. My mother’s sister and her family raised me, although I use the word raise lightly.”  

Draco sneered at her, “So you were raised by muggles? Do you know anything about our culture?” 

She tucked a curl behind her ear, “I know the basics, I’ve been away from them for two years now, but I haven't exactly had much social interaction. I could use a guide,” She added the last part hesitantly. Partly because well, she did need a guide for all the pureblood nonsense, but also it would be nice to know someone going into Hogwarts. 

Draco seemed to puff up a bit at her words, “Of course you’d need a guide,” he said proudly, “First of all, put your hair up,” 

She blinked at him in surprise, “What? Why?”

“Haven't you noticed anyone looking at you weird? Usually witches only have their hair down in front of close family, other women and their betrothed. It’s considered very weird that yours is down.” 

Huh. Ok. She’d definitely received some weird stares, but she’d always attributed it to being so young and on her own, but that made sense too.

Thinking fast, she directed magic to her fingertips and waved her hand near her head, hoping that it would work. She grinned when she felt the tugging on her hair. She reached up and felt her hair. A bun, just like she’d imagined. She looked to smile at Draco, but he was just staring at her in shock. 

“Wha-” He stuttered out, staring at her in open mouthed shock, “How did you- wandless magic,” 

He seemed to be going catatonic and Cassiopeia stared at him incredulously. She nudged his shoulder slightly and he seemed to snap out of it. Just then she noticed Hagrid walking down the street, something clutched in his hand. 

“Feel free to write, bye Draco!” She said, before sprinting in Hagrid’s direction.

“Bye!” He called from behind her, still sounding shocked.

When she reached Hagrid he grinned broadly at her and offered a cage to her with the most beautiful snowy white owl she’d ever seen inside of it. Cassiopeia took the cage delicately and reached inside to stroke the owl’s soft feathers. 

She grinned up at Hagrid, “Thank you so much!” She said

He smiled at her before speaking, “Now, I think it’s time yeh got a treat, how does ice cream sound?” 

“I think that sounds great, Hagrid,”  

They’re in Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor when Cassie thinks back to her conversation with Draco. He was a bit of a prat at first, but she thinks it might just be his parents. And if he actually turns out to be a prat, she can just distance herself from him, he’d still be a good political ally in her future, so she can’t outright dump his friendship, but she can distance herself if she wants to. 

“So,” Hagrid says, “To get ter Hogwarts, yer got to get to Platform Nine and Three-quarters. It’s at King Cross Station, and yer gotta walk through the barrier between platforms nine and ten to get there. If yer nervous, do it at a run, jus’ be careful about them muggle,” 

“Alright,” She says, stirring her ice cream (raspberry with nuts and hot fudge) 

Hagrid goes on to tell her more about her parents and she treasures each story. Stories of her father’s pranks with his group of friends that Hagrid called the Marauders. He also tells stories of her mother’s famous temper, often used on the Marauders when they took a prank too far. Any stories of her Papa are missing, but she expected it. From their notes, Regulus was a secret, one that Hagrid most likely wouldn’t know about.  

There’s a lull in the conversation when Cassie speaks up, “I think I’m going to be in Slytherin,”

Hagrid looks up at her, surprised, “Really?” he asks.

“Yeah. Either that or Ravenclaw. But I think Slytherin.”

Hagrid looks at her with a strange look before nodding,  “I can see it,” he says, “There’s a strange sort of system in slytherin,” he whispers, leaning forward, “This is the kind of thing that yer not supposed ter tell anyone that isn’t gonna be in Slytherin.  It's got a sort of government within the house. Firs’ years don’t usually get a big role, ‘cause they’re new, but in second year they elect an official out of their year ter represent them in the court” 

She nods slowly along to what Hagrid is saying, as he explains his knowledge on what he calls the ‘Slytherin Court’. 

“The court is led by a King or Queen, in the 5ht-7th year range who nominates themselves at the end of the year and defends their crown till the end of the seventh. In my time, it was led by a king, Tom Riddle. It was strange that year, ‘cause he was a fourth year, but everyone was too scared o’ him to say no and he won against the challenger, so king he was. They’re generally in charge of the whole court. Underneath the King or Queen, yer got yer prince or princess. Typically they are 3rd or 4th years. They represent all the younger years and typically are shoe in to replace the King or Queen once they leave. They come into the position the same way the King and Queen do. This all after the firs’ years go to bed.”

“This all seems… strangely complicated for children,” Cassiopeia says thoughtfully. 

Hagrid chuckles, “Yeah, well a whole lot of the Slytherins are growin’ to be on the Wizengamot and they want practice,” 

“Each year get their own leader, ‘cept the firs’ years, they don’t take part in the court yet, they’re too young, Prefects are part of the court too, but they don’t do much, usually the prefects are the leaders in the court, but not always” Hagrid shrugs. “Yer got any questions?” 

“Er, just one, but what’s the reason for the court?” 

“Oh, they help Professor Snape run the house and all that, monitoring study groups, settlin disputes, runnin clubs, makin connections and getting prefect-like privileges and all that,”

“How do the challengers, well, challenge the people running?”

“Fights usually, I don’t think I heard o’ one that wasn’t a fight. But most o’ em are duels, not fist fightin,” Hagrid frowned, “A guy in my year made me challenge the guy, and I won, so he basically ran things from the shadows for our year. I didn’t much care, but I don’t suggest lettin’ anyone do that ter yeh,” 

She frowns and switches the subject, “I’m not going back to the Dursleys” she says, firmly. 

Hagrid gives her an unreadable look before saying, “I wouldn’ta expected ya to, they seemed awful,” 

She lets out a relieved sigh, “I think I’m going to go back to that property I said I was staying at,”

Hagrid frowns, “I’m not sure that’s best. Stay here at the Leaky where I can check in on yeh. I don’t want anything ter happen ter yeh, and that way you’ll be in Diagon Alley where you can get yer some books for that great big brain o’ yours,” 

She looks down at her melting ice cream and takes another bite. What Hagrid is saying makes sense, but she misses Black Castle. Well, she can always visit, can't she? “Alright,” she agrees

When she got in her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she pulled out one of her History of Magic textbooks to look for a name for her new beautiful snowy owl. After much deliberation she finally decided on Hedwig, after the patron saint of orphans, a name with which the newly deemed Hedwig seemed to agree upon.

The next two weeks Cassiopeia spends fooling around with any type of magic she can get her hands on. She already finished reading through the entire textbook, and practicing several spells, for example, she’d turned a matchstick into a needle, mastered the levitation charm and practiced making several different potions. She’d gotten the hang of most of the entire year's material and now sat in her room, without a thing to work towards.

Well, she thought, her eyes drifting over towards the more advanced potion book she’d picked up on a whim at Obscurus Books, not entirely without something to do. 

She spent most of her time with her hair up, measuring ingredients over a simmering cauldron, practicing preparation, stirring time, and adjusting the flame. And if she added in a couple of modifications here and there, well nothing bad happened. 

Even so, she shouldn’t be doing it blindly, so she consistently found herself in the potions theory sections of Obscurus Books and other bookstores, still avoiding Flourish & Blotts like the plague. 

She set letters back and forth with Draco, and they quickly dropped the formalities. Cassiopeia tended to badger him with questions, and he’d respond with long letters with detailed explanations about anything that she;d asked. They were growing closer and Cassie thought she might finally for once in her life have a friend (Atropos didn’t count).

She visited Gornuk and his family several times, not talking of anything of overwhelming importance, just life updates and talking about how Srassa’s latest project was going and how Gornuk was handling her finances. The food however, was delicious as always, and was consistently acting as a motivator for her to come back to visit. 

Cassiopeia traveled to Black Castle a couple of times. Cheerfully greeting all of the elves and much to their surprise, scooping them all into hugs when she saw them. Cassie continued to raid the library, and this time, remembered to ask about any brooms. 

Himalia grinned at her and took her by the hand, quickly popping away and landing in front of a small shed. Himalia opened the padlock on the shed with one of the many keys on her belt and shuffled through the several brooms that she could see inside. She pulled out a newer looking broom from all the others and offered it to Cassiopeia. 

She took the broom in her hand and looked down at her clothes, not exactly the best for flying. Himalia snickered and snapped her fingers and suddenly, her clothes shifted to a strange set of robes? 

“They’s being quidditch robes,” Himalia explained. 

Cassiopeia made an o shape with her mouth and turned around. Her mouth fell open in shock. In front of her lay what she presumed to be a full scale quidditch field. Three hoops of varying heights sat on each end of the pitch, looking rather like bubble wands to her. 

She mounted her broom, adjusting her hands until they felt right. She kicked off the ground instinctively and soared into the air. 

She leaned forward on the broom and she shot forward. Cassiopeia twirled in loops and zoomed around the massive field, laughing all the while. Flying came instinctively for her and she felt a swoop of joy in her stomach as she sped toward the ground, only to pull up at the last second. 

When she finally came to a stop on the ground in front of Himalia, cheeks flushed with delight and grinning widely, she saw Himalia’s horror. Himalia had a hand clutched to her chest like she was about to have a heart attack. 

“Himalia, are you ok?” She asked hesitantly.

“Magic child! You nearly be givings me a heart attack!”

That was definitely an interesting day

Cassie groans and face plants into the incredibly dry first year transfiguration book that she’d just finished for the 4th time. “Atropos, this book is so dry! And there’s nothing interesting!” She complains. 

Atropos laughs at her, “Get the next book speaker,”

Cassiopeia rolled over on the bed from her stomach onto her back, crossing her arm beneath her head to act as a pillow. She turns her head to face Atropos on the pillow beside her and pouts, “ But then I’d have to go to Flourish & Blotts, and you know I hate that store,” 

“Stop being petulant, get up and get the text books for second and third year. Magic knows you’ll be through with the second year text books in a few weeks time,” 

She groans, but swings her legs off the bed and scoops Atropos into her arms. Atropos hisses and wraps himself around her shoulders. Cassie grabs her satchel and brushes the wrinkles out of her pleated skirt and adjusts her father’s red sweater over her black tank top. She stares at her outfit for a moment, good enough. She’s only going to be out to get books

She waves her hand at her hair, focusing her magic and furrowing her brows in focus. Her fingertips warm with magic and her hair begins to fasten itself into a bun with long curly tendrils hanging loosely from it

She makes her way through the bustling streets of Celestial Plaza, the Hogwarts rush starting to seriously populate the winding pathways and when even the dustiest shops get business. 

When she finally reached Flourish Blotts through the crush of people outside, the shop was barely any better. Children of all ages were there with their parents and she scowled at recognizing the clerk - the one who had doubted her ability to buy all the books in her basket and be able to read them when she had first paid the store a visit. Much to her chagrin, Flourish  Blotts had a monopoly when it came to most Hogwarts textbooks. 

She shoved her way through the crowd to the shelves she was looking for. Transfiguration years one and two… Cassiopeia startled in surprise when she quite literally ran into someone, the other girl's basket with books flying out of her hand and landing on the wooden floor with a loud thunk. 

Cassiopeia quickly hauled herself to her feet “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly, offering a hand out to the black girl with frizzy hair, clutching a book under her arm. The girl hesitantly reached up and took Cassie’s hand, and she pulled the other girl to her feet. 

They both stood there awkwardly for a second before the other girl spoke, “I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you,” The girl- Hermione said, sticking out a hand to shake. 

Oh good, she was muggleborn so Cassie didn’t have to do all the formal heir introductions. “I’m Cassiopeia Potter-Black, nice to meet you,” She said, smiling and shaking Hermione’s hand. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Like Cassie Po-”  Cassiopeia quickly shushed her by slapping a hand over Hermione’s mouth. 

“Shh,” She said frantically, eyes darting around, “That’s me, but I don’t want people to bother me about it,” Hermione’s eyes seemed wide in awe as Cassie slowly removed her hand. Her eyes drifted to the book in Hermione’s hand Defensive Magical Theory: Year 1 by Wilbert Slinkhard. She wrinkled her nose, “That book is terrible, and Slinkhard barely has any idea what he’s talking about,”

“But it’s in a book!” Hermione gasped, looking scandalized, any previous hero worship immediately forgotten. (score!) 

“Just because it’s in a book doesn’t mean it’s right, I mean people write down plenty of stuff they’re not qualified on, but they do it anyway,”

“Yes, but this is a ministry recognized book, and it’s by an award winning author, he has to know what he’s talking about!”

Cassiopeia blinked, “He’s an award winning author, in another subject . He’s most well known for healing, and he doesn’t even have a defense mastery. It’s only ministry approved because he has friends in high places,”

Hermione was looking at her with a furious look in her eye, “Then how are we supposed to know if anything is right? How would anyone create a new subject without being immediately shot down? The system of learning has to start somewhere. What if Slinkhard was just ahead of everyone else, and they just have to realize it,” 

“Well, I mean you do raise a good point, but Slinkhard’s ideas, specifically about jinxes and counter jinxes have been disproved by a council chosen by the ICW, he isn’t ahead of his time, he’s just making stuff up to sound smart.”

“That’s using the theory and knowledge we have now, maybe in 50 years Slinkhard will be proven right and all the people that are proving him wrong right now, aren’t correct,”

Cassie furrowed her brow, “That’s just the cycle of discovery, but Slinkhard would have to prove his qualifications to further be considered on the matter and get an apprenticeship. Society won’t care what Slinkhard has to say unless he has concrete proof that what he’s saying is correct, and to get the backing of defense professionals, he needs to be a defense professional himself .”

Hermione hummed  thoughtfully, “So it’s like citing things in essays in the muggle world… Checking your sources and all that,”

“Yeah, like it doesn’t matter right now if Slinkhard is correct or not, no one is going to take him seriously unless he proves that he has actual knowledge on the subject. Like his medical works are taken seriously because he has a mastery in it, but we have no reason to listen to him on anything defense wise,”

Hermione stares at her with an expression Cassiopeia can’t read, “Got any more topics to argue about?” Hermione asks. 

Cassie grinned, “Magic or muggle?” 

Hermione looks at her for a moment, “Magical,”

“Gamp’s law of elemental transfiguration says that you can’t create food out of thin air, why would that even be a thing,” 

They’re still arguing (politely) about Gamps 1st law, when they both check out of Flourish & Blotts, both of them glaring the clerk into submission, when he tries to deny them the books they are buying. They are still discussing when they reach the Leaky Cauldron, where Cassie pauses their argument to ask Tom, the bartender, to get them a cup of tea each, some scones and jam before promptly continuing their argument. 

Hermione is arguing in favor of Gamp’s law, and Cassiopeia against it and they are still fervently arguing when Tom brings them tea, scones and jam. He seems incredibly confused at their conversation and incredibly more confused when both of them cease their argument immediately, thank him for the tea and scones with a smile before turning back to each other scowling, and continuing to argue. 

They finally reach an impasse, where neither of them have any more good arguments and they are simply repeating old arguments, when Hermione checks her watch and her eyes go wide. “Oh Gosh!” She shouts, “It’s nearly 7, my parents are going to kill me if I don’t get home soon, and my train leaves in 10 minutes!” The girl squeaks.

Cassie just laughs, “Take the Knight Bus, it’s just easier,”

Hermione looks at her, confused, “The what?”

‘The Knight Bus, it’s transportation for any wix. Just stick out your wand and watch out for the bus. Tell the conductor where you want to go, pay him and hold on tight. Pretty much the fastest way to get somewhere if you can’t apparate yet and the place you’re going doesn’t have a floo,” Cassie shrugs. 

“Uh, ok,” Hermione says incredulously before smiling at Cassie shyly, “Do you mind if we, uh, if we exchange letters before school starts? It’d be nice to know someone going in,”

Cassie grins brightly at her, “of course! Write to me whenever. You gave some really good arguments, I’d love to do it again sometime,”

Hermione grins at her before standing, giving Cassie a couple of knuts to pay for her part of the meal and sprints across the pub to muggle London. 

Cassiopeia’s grin dims a bit at her friend (?) leaving. Hermione was a bit stuck up. Set in her ways, loyal to books like nobody’s business. But she gave some good arguments, and at least, was better intellectual company than Draco. 

It’s late one afternoon when she finally snaps after hearing “Cassie Potter’s godbrother,” again and delves into the stranger's mind, like a toddler sticking fingers into a pie. 

Neville Longbottom, heir to the Longbottom family, parents are in St. Mungo’s after attack by Death Eaters, raised by Grandmother Augusta Longbottom. Huh. 

She wanders her way back to her room at the Leaky Cauldron, absentmindedly refreshing the warming charm on Atropos where he’s curled up on her pillow, having refused to come out to the alley with her. 

She sits at the desk in her rented room and holds out her hand to her satchel. She pushes her magic through her fingertips and the bag comes flying toward her. Cassie shoves her hand into her back and summons the fancy looking parchment she bought on a whim, a quill and some ink. 

She sets the objects on the desk and chews on the end of the quill thoughtfully. She goes to write, but thinks better of it, and after shoving her hand in the bag again, has a much cheaper parchment in her hand to draft the letter. 

Dear Ms. Longbottom

Cassiopeia frowns, that’s not right, it’s too much of a muggle greeting, and she gets the feeling that Augusta Longbottom would not appreciate it. 

Dear Augusta Longbottom.

Not right either. She crosses it out and starts again

Dowager Augusta Longbottom, 

I’m writing this letter in hopes of meeting between me and your grandson, 

Does she call Neville, Augusta’s grandson, charge or ward? Why are letters so hard? 

She ends up restarting the letter several different times before she has something that she’s happy with, and before she loses her nerve, she begins to copy it neatly onto the fancy parchment. 

Dowager Augusta Longbottom

I am writing in hopes of arranging a meeting between your grandson, Heir Neville Longbottom, and I. It has come to my attention that he and I are god siblings, and I wish to meet him and form a bond before we move onto our Hogwarts year. 

I sincerely apologize for the lack of communication on my part before this letter,

Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black. 

Cassiopeia leaves the letter to dry on the desk and pulls out an envelope from her bag and bribes Hedwig to come over by summoning a treat from the box Cassie keeps on the windowsill. 

Hedwig hoots, and glides across the room to perch on her shoulder. Cassiopeia checks the ink to make sure it’s dry before sliding the letter into the envelope, and sealing it closed with wax, and stamping her Potter heiress sigil ring into the hot sapphire wax. 

Cassie and Hedwig watch the wax solidify and once she deems it safe enough, she attaches the letter to Hedwig’s outstretched leg. Hedwig hoots and soars through the open window, twirling in the air before continuing on her journey. 

She receives a response late morning the day later, when  Hedwig comes back with an envelope tied to her leg, the wax seal a dark red.  She slides her thumb under the seal of the envelope and pulls out the letter. She shakes it open and begins to read.

Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black

May I express my gratitude at your long awaited correspondence. With the approaching Hogwarts term, I had resigned myself to never hearing a word from you. I would personally be delighted to invite you over for a formal dinner to personally get to know you and introduce you to my grandson Neville Longbottom. 

Would 7 PM tomorrow be suitable? This letter will become a portkey to Longbottom Manor at 7 PM tomorrow 

Dowager Augusta Longbottom. 

Cassiopeia hops on her heels in excitement and quickly summons fancy parchment to write out her response, keeping her writing neat. 

Dowager Augusta Longbottom

I am ecstatic at the prospect of meeting you and your grandson. 7 PM tomorrow works perfectly for me. 

Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black

She quickly sends the letter before she rereads the letter that Augusta Longbottom had sent back. Formal dinner. Fuck, she exclaims in her head.

 She barely knows what a formal dinner in the muggle world is like, let alone in the wizarding world. She can guess at manners, being polite enough and watching other people for the eating etiquette is fine, but what the fuck is she even supposed to wear?

Hedwig comes back mid afternoon with no letter and Cassiopeia takes the opportunity to scrawl out a letter to the only person who might be able to give her advice in this situation

Draco,

I find myself in a bit of a… situation needing your help. I have found myself invited to a formal dinner tomorrow evening without an inkling about what that entails, regarding both manners and fashion. As much as I loath to admit it, your assistance would be much appreciated 

Cassiopeia.

Draco and her had quickly dropped formal titles and the stilted way that most of the pureblood society seemed to write letters, but sometimes it was fun to write in fancy sentences, using the most interesting vocabulary she could think of. 

She sent Hedwig off again with yet another letter, and she felt slightly guilty at sending a lot of letters as of late, but Hedwig didn’t seem to mind. 

The next morning she wakes up to Draco banging loudly on her door, demanding to be let in. 

She sends a wave of magic at her hair, where it magically begins braiding itself in a crown around her head. She stifled a yawn and swung open the door. 

Draco barged in past her and all but slammed the door shut behind him, grinning at her. “You said you needed advice? From me?” He fake gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock surprise. 

She slapped him on the backside of the head and he laughed, “Shut it you prick, don’t make fun of me,” she pouted at him, but he only pushed past her and sat down on her bed.

“So,” He said. 

“So,” she repeated back to him.

“What’d you even do to get yourself invited to a formal dinner? I thought the whole social world was told that Dumbledore was handling all that stuff for you,” Draco said, waving a hand.

Cassiopeia scowled, “Just because he is, doesn't mean I want him to,” she said before purposefully relaxing her expression, “That isn’t what that’s about though, I meeting with my Godbrother and Augusta Longbottom for the first time,” 

Draco looks at her astonished, “the first time?” he asked,

Cassie stares at him judgmentally, “raised by muggles, remember?” Draco makes an o shape with his mouth and she rolls her eyes. 

Still he grins at her, “and you need my help?”

“Don’t get cocky,” she grumbles. 

Draco was definitely a huge help (not that she would tell him that).

He had run what was basically an etiquette boot camp for her, and she felt she’d grasped most of the stuff he tried to drill into her head before he pleaded to be let into her closet and he went wild picking an outfit for her. 

Draco wasn’t allowed to see her hair down, so he ended up getting a magazine and showing her several different hairstyles she could try. Draco seemed to try and stick to the simpler ones, but she ended up grabbing some of the more complicated ones to try with magic anyway. 

Overall she’d been a little exhausted by the time her whirlwind of a best friend (was he her best friend? Could she call him that?) had left  and she ended up collapsed face first on her bed for a solid 20 minutes, before Atropos poked his tongue in her ear where he told her to ‘get up off of her ass and get ready,” 

She stared at herself hesitantly in the mirror and did a little twirl. Draco had chosen a white dress with a blue floral pattern. It had billowy sleeves and a long flowy skirt that cinched at the waist. She did another twirl and the dress flared beneath her. 

“Absolutely stunning dear,” the mirror said to her and she jumped in surprise. 

Cassiopeia shook off her surprise and sat down in front of the mirror and began to take her hair out of the crown braid she’d put it into earlier. She stared at the magazine clippings Draco had brought for her. One of them caught her eye and she shot up with an idea. Reaching into her satchel, she summoned the blue jewelry box she’d received from her father for her 11th birthday. 

She directed her magic carefully to her hair, imagining the fancy updo in the magazine and grinned when it worked the way she wanted it to. There was now a fancy looking bun in her hair that showed off her curls, some of them cascading down her shoulders and framing her face. 

Cassie flipped the lid of the dark blue jewelry box open and delighted at watching the little porcelain ballerina spin on a pointe shoe to soft music coming from the box. She grabbed several rings to begin sliding on her fingers along with several bracelets. The Cassiopeia constellation necklace still hung around her neck, diamonds glittering, accompanied by her mother’s locket on a much longer chain that held pictures of her parents and some of her mother’s friends. 

Last,  she took the silver hair ornament, her ‘proof of magic’ her mother had gifted her, and carefully pinned it into place around the bun and grinned at the result. The silver and diamonds glinted in the fading sunlight of the dying afternoon. She tilted her head to the side and the diamonds clicked against each other softly. The soft hum of the protection magic encased her and she smiled softly

Cassiopeia moved her face closer to the mirror and focused on her metamorph abilities. She wasn’t able to do much with them, but she could do this. She made her cheeks slightly pinker, made her lips more red and adjusted her eyelids to give the illusion of eye shadow.  

She grinned and stood up quickly, wobbling on her white chunky heels. Sadly, she didn’t trust bringing Atropos with her, but promised him extra quail eggs when she got back. 

The portkey lands on beautiful manor grounds with a cobblestone pathway leading to a tan English country house in the center of the ground. She begins to walk down the bathway, dresses swishing pleasantly around her ankles. 

Who she assumes is the Dowager Longbottom exits the house and begins to hurry up the pathway to greet her. Cassiopia curtsies first once the woman reaches her, just like Draco taught her. She has to curtsy first, because Dowager Longbottom is older . “Dowager Lady Longbottom,” she murmurs. 

“Heiress Potter-Black,” Dowager Longbottom acknowledges curtsying slightly in return, before she steps aside. 

Only then does she notice the blonde boy behind the imposing woman. He’s nervously fidgeting with his hands and he awkwardly rushes forward to take her hand. He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Heir Longbottom” she says 

“Heiress Potter-Black,” he says in return. She can tell he’s nervous. It’s kind of endearing. 

Neville offers his arm to her and she takes it gratefully, smiling at him and letting Dowager Longbottom lead them into the manor. 

Dinner is awkward and stilted. The food is delicious, but Dowager Longbottom doesn’t let her grandson talk about anything, and she keeps interrupting him when he goes to speak. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, where Dowager Longbottom is taking a sip of her wine, when she turn to Neville, “Now, your grandmother has been regaling me with tales of her son's exploits and how our parents knew each other, how about you,”

Neville looks like he’s going to choke on his food before he swallows and turns to look at her, face flushed red, “Me?” he squeaks. 

“Yes,” she says, trying to hide her amusement, “what are your interests?”

“Er, well I like plants. I mainly take care of the greenhouses here, both magical and muggle,”

“I have to admit I know a fair bit more about muggle plants than I do about magical ones, however my name sake is the exception. I do know a fair bit about the Cassiopeia flower,”

Neville suddenly gets a grin on his face and he grows in confidence, ‘The Cassiopeia flower is really interesting! Mainly the use for it is wit-sharpening potions, but healers have found ways to put it into strengthening elixirs to help people regain function of previously lost things. It’s popular in the mind healing profession for its mind repairing qualities in some potions and also in the long term ward in St. Mungos for its reparative qualities,”

“It definitely has some interesting uses, but I’ve only ever seen it used as a way to help the body. Personally I think that it could be a great additive to potions that need a little extra power. It generally has strengthening effects, and if you use it right, it doesn’t have to be just on the material, it can work for magic too,” Cassie adds.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, “I think you might be right. That would be a very interesting application for it, not one that I’ve ever heard before.” 

Dowager Longbottom seems to have been suddenly out of her depth. She glances around the table before looking up at them, “Why don’t you two go to the greenhouses to discuss more,” 

Neville looks at his grandmother, surprised, while Cassiopeia smiles in thanks before turning back to Neville, “Lead the way, godbrother!”

Neville looks like he’s about to burst into tears and she’s a bit nervous before he blinks them away and smiles brightly at her. 

She follows him down to the greenhouses and they spend the rest of the evening discussing the uses for plants and both of their interests. 

When the time finally comes for Cassiopeia to leave, she says goodbye knowing that she has another pen pal, and another friend that she’ll have at Hogwarts, but this time he acts like what she thinks a brother might be like. 

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia woke up early in a cold sweat, the phantom feeling of Vernon’s hand around her throat choking her. She gasped for breath, hands clutched to her chest, panting. Atropos slithered closer to her. 

“Speaker! Are you ok?” He asked, and she could tell he was frantic. 

“Nightmare, sorry,” She choked out, but Atropos did not become less concerned, he never did after she woke from nightmares. 

Bile rises in the back of her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let herself throw up. 

Her breathing slowed to a shaky, but normal pattern and she collapsed back against the pillows. Atropos curled on her chest and she slid her hand down his smooth scales. She didn’t fall back asleep, she never could, but she simply lay there with Atropos on her chest for a little while. Slowing her breathing and calming her heart rate. 

September 1st. The first day of Hogwarts. She didn’t exactly have anything to do, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, still holding Atropos to her chest. He adjusted himself in response to wrap around her shoulders, a comforting weight after her nightmare. 

She wanders to the bathroom in her bag-flat and brushes her teeth. The toothpaste washed away the acrid taste of bile in her mouth, but couldn't erase the burning in her throat. 

She leaves the bathroom and starts to make herself breakfast. Eggs on toast with a fried tomato is simple and easy enough to make, but still filling before the long train ride. 

She moves about the small kitchen, humming a tune to herself that she doesn’t know where she learned. Cassie finds herself being inexplicably worried about going to Hogwarts, anxiety roiling in her stomach, making her nauseous. She doesn’t know what she’s anxious about. She has no family to miss, her flat is coming with her to be her school bag, even if she’s bringing her mother’s trunk to keep everything organized. The only thing she'd possibly miss was Black Castle and the elves it housed, and even then, she’d be back for Yule. 

She logically has nothing to worry about, but still, she worries. 

—----------------

The trunk is packed with all of her school things, robes, books, potions equipment, class materials, quills and parchment; her bag contains the rest of her things. There's no reason to put everything in a trunk when she already has her satchel, but it’s the thought that counts. It’s her mother’s trunk, that her mother had carved runes and painted flowers onto. 

She checks her watch, 9:45. She doesn’t want to be at the train station until 10:30, the time she’d talked about meeting with Draco, Hermione and Neville, (all communicated separately, but she would introduce them to each other in due time). She was just planning on taking the Knight Bus to Kings Cross, it being too long of a walk and too short of a train ride to justify it, and even so, being on the tube, surrounded by strangers just made her uncomfortable. 

She shrugged and pulled out one of the drafts for her rune project she was working on. Technically, she really shouldn’t be working on it, usually students don’t start making their own arrays until 5th year, usually learning theory or the meaning behind the runes, but Cassie was always more of a hands-on learner. Besides, she was practicing on a parchment meant for beginning practicing runes, so she (hopefully) wouldn’t get anything blown up if she made a mistake, and Cassie was planning on getting it checked over by one of the rune masters in the shops anyway. 

She set an alarm for herself at 10:15, to leave her room at the Leaky Cauldron and call the Knight Bus, so she wouldn’t be so lost in her work that she missed the train. 

Time passed quickly as she wrote down ideas in runes in pencil - not quills, they channeled magic as they wrote, which is why they were used as opposed to pens. The alarm went off and she jumped, luckily not damaging her work. 

She tucked the sheets of parchment and her pencil into her bag and stood up from the bed. She gave one last glance around the room at the Leaky Cauldron, just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, even checking underneath the bed, just to be sure, before she left the room behind. 

She exited the Leaky Cauldron and began to look for a less populated spot where she could summon the Knight Bus. People were staring at her oddly for the owl cage and the snowy owl within it, but otherwise she blended into the crowd of London.

She’d gone rather formal with her outfit for the train ride, a black highwaisted pencil skirt that went to her mid thigh, black tights, a white button down shirt, a light brown blazer over top and shiny black chunky heels. Her hair was in her usual bun, but this time more fancy and very similar to what she had it in while at the Longbottoms, also wearing her proof of magic, like most of the other girls would be. 

Finally giving up on finding a secluded place in bustling London, she cast a notice-me-not charm on herself, specifically focusing on excluding the muggles and stuck her wand out for the Knight Bus. 

The violently purple bus screeched to a stop in front of her and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She climbed aboard the triple-decker bus and the conductor grinned at her, “Stan Shunpike and you are?”

“Cassiopeia Peverell” She said, instinctively, “Kings Cross Station please,”

“That’ll be 6 knuts Ms. Peverell,” Stan said and she handed over the coins obediently before quickly taking a seat to avoid being knocked off her feet before the bus was rocketing off again. 

A short while later, they came to an abrupt stop and Atropos was hissing up a storm so loudly while Stan called “Kings Cross Station!” that she nearly missed her stop. She climbed off of the bus, feeling a bit unsteady in the legs but ignoring the feeling and murmured a thanks to Stan and the driver. 

She checked her watch quickly and hurried into Kings Cross Station, searching for the barrier between platforms nine and ten. 

Cassiopeia darted around several people, the train station still busy with the leftovers of rush hour. She eyes the wall nervously, holding on tighter to Hedwig’s cage. 

She licked her lips and rushed forward at the wall, squeezing her eyes shut when she expected to run straight into a wall. 

When the impact never came, she opened her eyes hesitantly and stared in amazement at the scarlet steam engine sitting on the tracks. People were fussing over their children, hugging, kissing and checking luggage just one more time. 

Her heart clenched and she swallowed. She didn’t need parents, she’d done fine without them her entire life. She lives on her own, she traveled the world, all without parents. Somewhere, deep down inside of her, she longed for a parent’s embrace, eyeing the children who brushed off their parent’s love jealously.

She swept her eyes over the platform, searching for any of her friends. She grinned upon spotting Hermione and rushed over, “Hermione!” she called, once she was closer

Hermione turned toward her, also grinning “Cassiopeia! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, where’s your trunk?”

“It’s shrunk and in my pocket so it wouldn’t be too unwieldy.” Her gaze landed on Hermione’s hair, which was down, “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you,”

Hermione looked at her bewildered, “Forgot to tell me what?”

“You’re not supposed to have your hair down,” Cassie said quickly, pulling Hermione off to the side and behind a pillar.

Hermione stumbled after her, “What? Why am I not supposed to have my hair down?”

Cassiopeia waved her hand, focusing her magic and nodding satisfactorily when Hermione's hair twisted itself into a similar style to Cassie’s bun. 

“What?” Hermione said, still sounding shocked, looking at Cassiopeia’s hand and feeling her hair, “How in the world- Wandless magic-“

“It’s a cultural thing. It’s seen as inappropriate for a witch to have her hair down. Your hair being down is  like a thing only your family and betrothed, which is like the wizarding version of fiancé, I think that other girls are allowed to see it down, but I don’t have many friends, let alone female friends to really be sure,” 

Hermione was still staring at her blankly, “Er, ok… Thank you for fixing that for me, we’re going to go find a compartment now ok?” Hermione said, taking Cassiopeia’s hand.

Cassie nodded and Hermione began to lead her through the throng of people to the scarlet steam engine.

Compartment secured with their things, and Hermione, Cassiopeia stepped outside the train to go find Neville and Draco after telling Hermione she was going to go find some of her other friends to introduce to Hermione. She recruited Atropos to help her spot any of her friends, after once again layering him in notice-me-not charms before letting him poke out of her coat pocket that she’d transfigured to be bigger.

“The speaker! Over there!” Atropos called from her shoulder, pointing in a direction with his tail. 

She spotted several heads of platinum blonde hair in the crowd and rushed over. She was anxious about Draco’s parents being there, especially because they were the Lord and Lady Malfoy, so she would have to be as formal, if not more formal than she was with Dowager Longbottom.

Cassiopeia fixed her hair and straightened her clothes. She set her shoulders and held her head up high and approached the Malfoy family.

Draco spotted her first and smiled at her from her his parents couldn’t see and strode up to her. She offered her hand and Draco took it and kissed her knuckles. She looped their arms together and Draco escorted her up to his parents. 

“Mother, Father, this is my friend Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black.”

Lady Malfoy’s eyes snapped to her, full of an emotion she couldn’t read. Lord Malfoy looked her up and down, a calculating look in his eyes barely concealing the hatred she saw beneath his cool mask. 

“Pleasure to meet you Lord and Lady Malfoy, Lady Magic Bless you,” She said politely, curtsying to them. 

Lord Malfoy inclined his head to her, barely enough of an acknowledgement to count as polite. She felt her slight resentment towards him grow. Lady Malfoy curtsied and began to speak, “It is such a pleasure to meet one of my son’s friends, Lady Magic bless you,” There was a slight warmth in Lady Malfoy’s voice that immediately endeared Cassiopeia to her. 

“Forgive me for my impoliteness,” Lady Malfoy continued, “But may I ask where the Black heir ship came from?” 

“All is forgiven Lady Malfoy,” Cassie said, hoping she sounded formal enough, “I found out recently that my parents actually had a more traditional relationship with a third person,” 

Lady Malfoy’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline, folding her hands over her skirt. Draco’s eyes snapped to her, furrowing his brow slightly. Lord Malfoy suddenly became much more interested in the conversation, staring her down. 

“The third in their relationship is my blood adopted father, Regulus Black.”

Well that name definitely got a reaction. Lady Malfoy suddenly went white and she put a hand to her mouth in shock. Lord Malfoy’s expression suddenly gained an undercurrent of anger and disgust that he didn’t have before. Draco’s mouth dropped open and she snickered quietly before tapping the bottom of his chin and he closed his mouth with a snap. 

“Little Regulus had a kid,” Lady Malfoy seemed like she was going to shock and she could hear Atropos’s hissy laughter. 

“Yes,” Casie affirmed, “And that would make me and Draco something close to cousins,” 

“Second cousins,” Lady Malfoy said faintly.

“That makes me and Draco second cousins,” Cassiopeia amended, “but close enough to just call him a cousin.”

“Call me Aunt Cissa,” Lady Malfoy, or Aunt Cissa said, still sounding like she was going into shock, “Baby Regulus had a kid… with the Potters,” She muttered.

Cassiopeia swallowed nervously and began to lead Draco away, “It was very nice meeting you, Lord Malfoy, Aunt Cissa, we’ll just be leaving now,”

“Bye Father, Bye Mother!” Draco called, lagging behind before rushing up to her “We’re second cousins? Why didn’t you ever tell me!” Draco whined at her.

“Because of that reaction” she said, flicking his forehead, “now come on I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.” 

————

“Draco, this is Hermione Granger, Hermione this is Draco Malfoy,”

Draco stuck out his hand “Good day, Mother Magic bless you,”

Hermione shook his hand hesitantly, “Good day, Mother Magic bless you,” 

“Are you a Granger as in, descended from Hector Dagworth-Granger?” 

“No, I’m don’t think so- I haven’t heard of him,”

Draco sniffed haughtily and sat down. “So you're a mudbloo-“ Cassie glared at him.

“Muggleborn,” he corrected himself smoothly.

“Yes, and what about it?” Hermione said dangerously.

“It’s just that they're invading the magical world without learning any of the culture and they’re covering all of our traditions with muggle ones!”

Hermione snorted derisively, “Have ever thought, oh I don’t know, telling them that?” 

“Well-“

“You can’t just assume that people can read your mind about what you want them to do, and call them slurs and expect them to respect you!”

Hermione and Draco glared at each other from their respective seats. “Okayyy,” Cassie said, dragging out the syllable. “I’m going to go find Neville. Draco, play nice and shut up, Hermione don’t kill him, he’s my cousin and is just about the only family I have left.”

She shut the door behind her and checked her watch, 10:54, Neville was cutting it close. 

She hurried out of the train and stood on her tiptoes, scanning the platform. She barely heard Atropos’s warning before a figure slammed straight into her, nearly knocking her over. She caught the figure and barely stopped them both from tumbling to the ground in one great heap.

She looked down at the little redheaded girl in her arms and the girl stumbled back, “Oh! I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Cassie laughed, “It’s all good, now-“ she paused when she saw the girl’s hair. It hung around her shoulders, fly-aways going every which way and definitely not up. 

Cassie dragged the girl off to the side and waved her hand, very reminiscent of what she’d done to Hermione earlier that morning. The girl’s hair quickly wrapped into a braided crown around her head. The girl gaped at her and Cassie licked her thumb and began to rub dirt off of the girl’s cheek. 

“Are you okay? I know you didn’t fall, but still,” 

“Yeah- er, yeah I’m ok, what-?” the girl stuttered.

“I’m glad that you're ok,” Cassie said, smoothing out the girl’s hair, “You look too young for Hogwarts, how old are you?”

“Er- I’m 10, I’ll be going to Hogwarts next year,” 

“Alright, I’m looking forward to seeing you there next year,” Instinctively, Cassiopeia leaned forward and kissed the girl’s forehead and rushed out onto the platform again, searching for Neville. 

She paused several steps away from the girl, who had run off again. Oh Merlin’s saggy balls. She was turning into Srassa. She shook her head free of the existential crisis, purposefully ignored the exasperated look Atropos was definitely sending her as he slithered down to her coat pocket and took off into the crowd again. 

When she finally found Neville, she just made sure he had a strong hold on Trevor, grabbed his trunk, said a quick hello to Dowager Longbottom and pulled Neville onto the train that was just beginning to pull away. 

She led Neville to their compartment, catching sight of the red headed girl running alongside the train, and she smiled slightly, before quickly whipping her head to face forward again. Oh Mother Magic, she really was turning into Srassa.  Cassiopeia slid the door of the compartment open to find Hermione and Draco astutely ignoring each other and occasionally glaring at each other before looking away quickly when the other caught sight. 

She rolled her eyes and pushed Neville into the compartment, slamming the door shut behind her. Neville, Hermione and Draco all jumped and she snickered. 

She took the seat next to Draco, Neville having taken the one on Hermione’s side. Awkward silence reigned as Hermione and Draco still ignored each other and Neville and Cassiopeia just looked at each other helplessly.

The compartment door slid open again and several older Gryffindors stood there, third or fourth years if she had to guess. 

“You Firsties get out of here, this is our compartment,” who she assumed might be the leader sneered at them and Atropos hissed in warning.

Neville jumped up and began to start towards their stuff. but Cassie gently pushed him back to his seat at the shoulder.

“I don’t see your name on it,” she defended, approaching the door. 

“Listen here you stupid firstie-“ the ringleader started, pulling out his wand and aiming it at her face. Neville made a sound that sounded halfway between a scream and a whimper and Cassiopeia could sense the furious magic rolling off of Hermione in waves. 

“Are you threatening me?” She asked dangerously, flicking her wand out of the leather holster she’d bought last week. 

“You don’t even know any spells,” He laughed, “You ain’t gonna do shit!”

“Watch me,” she snarled. 

“Aw,” the guy said in a mocking baby voice, “What’s the ickle firstie gonna do?”

“Punch him,” Atropos snarled from her jacket pocket. She grinned, balled her right fist and socked the ringleader in the nose.

Neville and Hermione gasped behind her and Draco let out a little shocked laugh. The guy staggered backwards, his nose bleeding and eyes watering. 

“Nice punch,” Atropos hissed, “Now show him who's boss,”

She sneered at the ringleader who was dripping blood onto his clothes and the floor. Cassie twisted her wand, directing her magic through it and imagined what she wanted to happen. 

The guy went flying backwards, slamming against the wall and staying there. She flicked her wand, holding her tongue between her teeth and narrowing her eyes and his skin was suddenly a vibrant shade of orange with the word BULLY spelt across his forehead in big, bold letters  with a scab-like substance. Cassiopeia grinned maliciously, staring down the rest of the group, “Who’s next?” 

The rest of the guys scrambled back and away from her compartment, tugging their ringleader down from the wall and scampering down the hallway. 

She shut the door behind her and started at her friends, who were staring at her in bewildered shock. 

“But they- What?” Neville stuttered.

Cassie shrugged and flopped on the bench, kicking her legs onto Draco’s lap, “They threatened us,” 

“That one guy barely even got through a single threat!” Hermione protested.

“He had his wand out!” Cassie defended petulantly, “besides, there’s no teachers on the train-“

“-That we know of.” Hermione cut in.

“And I don’t have a house to take points from,” Cassie continued smoothly, “And, the school term hasn’t even started yet,” 

“I cannot believe you,” Draco groaned, putting his head in his hands, “did you have to immediately resort to physical violence?”

“Yeah well,” Cassiopeia said, “I’m not quite good enough at insults to make 3rd or 4th years cry yet, and physical violence was the only way to get them to leave us alone - and it wasn’t like I started it!”

“…Is it bad that I want to take that as a challenge to make 3rd or 4th years cry from insults?” Draco asked.

“First one to make a 3rd year cry from insults gets a galleon,” Hermione said.

“Oh you are so on,” 

“I don’t want to be part of this bet,” Neville said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, no I’m out too,” Cassie said, “But you two have fun, why not start with a first year our age?” 

The compartment door slid open smoothly and two boys, their age if Cassie had to guess, stepped into the compartment. One of them was about average height with dark brown skin and a fade. He had piercing brown eyes that held a mischievous glint. The other boy was tall and lanky, with pale skin, dark brown hair with icy blue eyes and was clutching a book in his left hand. 

Cassiopeia swung her legs off of Draco’s lap and Hermione asked, “and you are?”

The two boys eyes drifted over to Draco and he quickly stood up, 

“These are my friends Heir Theodore Nott and Heir Blaise Zabini,”

Oh, so it was formal time, Cassiopeia stood and approached Heir Nott and Heir Zabini. 

She curtsied, “Good day, Mother Magic bless you I am Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black,”

Heir Nott’s eyes widened a fraction but Heir Zabini just smirked. “Pleasure to meet you Heiress Potter-Black, just call me Blaise,” He said, winking.

She grinned amusedly, “Then call me Cassiopeia,”

The other boy scowled, “Call me Theodore,” he said reluctantly, not looking her in the eyes and acting disinterested.

She frowned and immediately found herself not liking him, “Call me Cassiopeia,” she said slowly, with far less warmth in her tone than she had when she spoke to Blaise.

Neville then introduced himself, going through the same formalities and then finally Draco introduced Hermione, with far less formality. 

Just when they’d all settled on their seats and begun to pick up a conversation, Cassiopeia feeling slightly uncomfortable next to a stiff Nott, when the door to the compartment slid open again. 

The door slammed open revealing a red headed boy very similar to the girl from the platform.

the boy stared at them haughtily, “I’m Ron Weasley and I’m destined to be Cassie Potter’s best friend, because she’s obviously going to be Gryffindor’s golden girl, you haven’t seen her have you?”

Cassie stared at the boy, Ron Weasley, in bewilderment. What the hell?

Draco snorted his into the silence and Weasley’s eyes snapped to him, nose wrinkling, “Oh, a Malfoy. You must all be Slytherins, no use talking with you lot,”

Hermione stood up, magic crackling in bolts off of her hair, “You pompous arrogant git!” she snarled, balling her fists, “Just because you think your going to be a Gryffindor, doesn’t mean that Cassie Potter is going to be your best friend, she could be in Ravenclaw, or in Slytherin, or in Hufflepuff. Stop making assumptions about other people before you meet them!”

Weasley recoiled back in shock, and Draco laughed harshly, “And honestly Weasel, you can’t even bother to wash the dirt off of your nose? Or are you so slobbish that having smears of dirt is the cleanest you get? Honestly, you’d be lucky if Cassie Potter even looked at you ,” 

Weasley’s mouth was gaping open and Cassiopeia could see tears coming to his eyes. I guess Hermione and Draco achieved step one of their goal; make a first year cry. 

Weasley swallowed, mouth opening and closing in shock before he slammed the compartment door closed.

Cassiopeia waved her hand at the lock and it clicked in place. She glanced around at the people staring at her and shrugged, “What? I was tired of people barging in, the lock solves it,” 

Everyone looked away from her and began to stare at Draco and Hermione, who had subtly given each other a high five. 

“Honestly I think we could’ve done better,” Hermione said mildly.

“True,” Draco said haltingly, as if he couldn’t believe he was as agreeing with her, “Your insult could have been better, was more of a shock that someone was standing up to him that and actually good insult,”

Hermione scowled, “Yours could use some work. Name calling is primary and calling him slobbish was a mediocre insult,” 

“Ok guys,” Neville cut in nervously, “We get it, you don’t like each other,” 

Hermione and Draco reluctantly sat down on opposite sides, still staring daggers at each other, their moment of comradery forgotten. 

“So,” Neville continued, “What houses do you guys think you’ll be in?” 

Draco grinned proudly, “Definitely Slytherin. Almost my entire family has been in Slytherin,”

“Slytherin” Blaise said, shrugging “I’m too ambitious to go anywhere else,” 

“Slytherin,” Theordore said shortly, not explaining any further.

“Hufflepuff, but I’m hoping for Gryffindor,” Neville said shyly.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, “I think I’d be happy anywhere, but Ravenclaw or Gryffindor would be most likely I would think,”

“I have no fucking clue,” Cassiopeia said bluntly, and they all looked at her in surprise, “What? If that git Weasley is going to be in Gryffindor then I don’t want to go there, and Hufflepuff wouldn’t be too bad, but I think Ravenclaw or Slytherin would be most likely,” 

Draco snorted, “I know exactly where you're going to go, you’re just so oblivious about it, it’s a little bit funny,”

Cassiopeia looked at him, confused, but he just ignored her and continued with the conversation. 

“Are you all bringing pets to Hogwarts?” He asked, “I’ve got an owl, he’s an eagle owl and I’ve named him Archimedes. He’s flying to Hogwarts on his own.”

“...You named your owl, you magical owl, after a muggle ancient Greek mathematician, physicist, engineer, astronomer, and inventor” Hermione asked, slowly and looking incredibly bewildered. 

“No,” Draco said, looking at her incredulously, “I named him after the famous Arithmetician and Runes master and inventor,”

“From Ancient Greece,” Hermione added, narrowing her eyes. 

“...Yes from Ancient Greece,”

“Okay!” Cassie said, clapping her hands, breaking the silence. “I have a snowy owl and her name is Hedwig,” She reached up into the luggage rack and brought down Hedwig’s gold cage where she hooted. Cassie reached through the bars and smoothed her fingers over her deaths and Hedwig leaned into the touch. Draco leaned forward and Hedwig snapped her beak at him and he quickly backed away while Cassiopeia laughed. 

“I have a wonderful Bay Owl named Atticus, yes after the poet, and he is delightfully creepy,” Blaise smirked, also retrieving his owl’s cage from the rack. Inside there was an unusually large (for a bay owl) tan owl with a rather sour looking face, who in Cassie's opinion, spectacularly exceeded the title of creepy and crossed securely into the line of cryptid. 

Blaise was grinning proudly at his owl and was cooing softly at it, while it just made blank eye contact with Blaise and she desperately wished she never encountered the creature while it was dark out. 

“I have an owl and her name is Kestrel, after the famous potions mistress Kestrel Rosier,” Theodore said stiffly, “She is flying to Hogwarts on her own,”

“I don’t have an owl, I only have Trevor,” Neville said reluctantly, holding the toad up in a tight grip, “He always manages to escape no matter what I do, and at this point I’m beginning to think he’s magic,” 

Draco laughed, "If that’s true the toads got more magic than you!” 

Cassiopeia scowled and seized him by the arm and said, “We’ll be right back,” with a strained smile and tight eyes. She pulled him out of the compartment behind and further down the hallway. She found an empty compartment and dragged him into it slamming the door behind her. 

“What the fuck Draco?” She hissed, “You have a problem with Hermione because she’s muggleborn and now you’re making fun of Neville?”

“There’s been rumors for forever that he’s a squib Cassie!” Draco protested. 

“And that doesn’t matter anymore Draco! He’s in Hogwarts, so he has magic! It’s as simple as that!” She half shouted, trying to keep her volume down on the crowded train, “Get your head out of your ass! Why the hell would it even matter if he has magic or not? It's none of your fucking business!” 

Draco scoffed, “You want me to stop making fun of Longbottom? Fine. I can ignore him. But don’t start on the Mudblood!” 

She slapped him across the face and he recoiled back in shock. “Stop saying slurs,” She spat, “You keep this shit up, you say the word ‘Mudblood’ again and you can kiss my friendship goodbye, cousin or not,” 

Draco gaped at her, mouth open in shock, one hand held to his cheek. 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Atropos hissed from her pocket. 

“Bloody hell Draco! You can be so insensitive that I wonder if you even care about other people’s feelings!”

“But-”

“Go apologize to Neville,” she said, coldly.

“What?”

“I said,” Cassiopeia seethed, “Go apologise, or you can find another fucking compartment,” 

Draco swallowed and stormed out of the compartment, his cheek still red from her slapping him. She clenched her fist and breathed deeply before following him. 

When she stepped into the compartment, Draco was in the middle of a very stiff and awkward apology and Neville was looking incredibly flustered. 

She sat down heavily and slumped against the wall, resting her forehead on the pleasantly cold window, ignoring Theodore’s calculating look. 

“We should get changed into our robes soon,” Hermione announced, checking her watch, ‘My estimate is that we’ve got half an hour before we pull into the station,”

Everyone nodded silently and dispersed to change into their robes. 

—-----------

Stepping off the train and into the cool night air of northern Scotland was nice. The cold air rustled leaves and cooled the rest of her simmering rage. 

She stepped up besides Neville, smiling at him and linking their arms. He smiled back at her hesitantly and they pushed their way through the crush of students. 

“Firs’ years! Firs’ Years over here!” 

She grinned brightly at a familiar voice and eagerly began to lead Neville in Hagrid’s direction. Once she got close enough she called, ‘Hagrid!” 

Hagrid turned around, the glowing lantern swinging in his grasp and he smiled widely, “Cassie! Oh it’s good ter see yer!”

She released her hold on Neville’s arm and rushed forward to hug him. Hagrid had come to visit her several times over her stay at Diagon Alley, he’d told her all about Slytherin house and Hogwarts, and she in return talked animatedly about all the strange things she overheard in the alley. 

“He ruffled her hair and briefly returned the hug. “And who's this with yeh?” he asked, looking at Neville. 

"This is my godbrother Neville Longbottom,” She introduced and Neville waved slightly.

“Oh yer Frank and Alice’s boy!” Hagrid said, “Well, it’s good ter see yer, your parents were amazin’ people and I’m sure you will be too, whether you're like em or not! “

Nevile smiled hesitantly and Hagrid gestured toward a small fleet of docked boats that she hadn’t noticed before, ‘Why don’t you go pick out a boat, but wait ter get on, I don’t want yer to fall off,” 

Cassiopeia and Neville rushed off and Hagrid continued to call for first years behind them. 

She and Neville caught up with Hermione, who was looking around anxiously and sighed in relief when she saw them, “Oh thank goodness, there you are!” 

“Sorry Hermione,” Cassie laughed, “We got caught up talking to Hagrid, the groundskeeper,” 

Draco approached behind them silently, still looking slightly embarrassed and annoyed, but sticking by them all the same. 

When Hagrid called for them to get in a boat, with no more than 4 in a boat, Hermione, Neville, Draco and her all climbed into one boat together and startled when the boats magically began to row themselves across the pitch-black smooth lake. 

Cassiopeia leaned forward to run her fingers across the glass surfaces of the lake, the water gliding from her fingertips and creating a small wake behind them. The water was cool against her skin, almost uncomfortably so with the biting cold and their formal uniforms. 

The formal uniforms, as one would expect, were much more formal than the everyday robes. The female uniform was a thick black dress that went to her knees with a heavy black shawl with the Hogwarts crest, that she’d seen on other students as a house crest. There was also detailing on the older student’s formal uniforms that had their house colors that were just plain black on her robes. 

She grinned mischievously and flicked water at Neville and he scowled playfully at her before sticking his hand in the water and flicking it back at her too. She laughed and was preparing to splash him again when Hermione called out, “Look,” She turned around to follow where Hermione was pointing and she gasped in amazement. 

The castle in front of them was majestic and was positively singing with magic. The castle was happy to have it’s - no her students back once again. To provide a home, a sanctuary, a school for anyone in her walls. 

She felt the burning magic sweep over her like a hot summer’s day and gasped and the magic focused on her. 

Heiress of Slytherin, it whispered, Welcome home.

Chapter Text

The boat rocked heavily as they stepped over the threshold of the dark, placid lake and onto dry land. She accepted Neville’s hand to help her step out of the boat, even if it was unnecessary. 

They walked up the path towards the looming castle, other students around them murmuring in their groups. 

“What do you think the test will be?” Neville asked, anxiously twisting his hands. 

They began to climb the large stone steps towards the entrance when Hermione said, “I’m not sure, it isn’t mentioned in Hogwarts, A History, But I’ve been running through all of my knowledge just to make sure”

Draco scowled and grumbled, “Both father and mother refused to tell me,”

Hagrid knocked on the door three times and it swung open to reveal a severe looking woman with black hair pulled into a tight bun, glasses on the edge of her nose and heavy emerald green robes. 

“The firs’ years Professor McGonagall!” Hagrid said with a smile,

“Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here,” Professor McGonagall pushed open the door she’d just come out of and led them through the corridors of Hogwarts. The halls were massive, with intricate wall sconces that held crackling flames, lighting the dim hallway. They stopped outside of a massive metal door that Cassiopeia could hear voices through. 

Over the din of the sounds from the room behind the doors, McGonagall said, “Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in you House common room,”

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup , a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours,”

“The sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting” Professor McGonagall said, and gave a pointed look to Neville, whose cloak was askew and Weasley, who had never scrubbed off the dirt on his nose. 

Hermione’s skin was still ashen with anxiety and she was wringing her hands, “When was the Wizengamot established again?” She whispered, leaning over to them. 

Cassie rolled her eyes while fixing her godbrother’s cloak,  “400 B.C.”

“60 A.M” Draco said at the same time.

“Hermione, don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I don’t think it’ll be a test on how much you know,” Cassiopeia assured, but she herself was also feeling nervous. She rested a hand on her mothers locket, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the lily engraving on the front. 

“My brother said that you had to wrestle a troll,” Weasley said, butting into their conversation.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Obviously not, they wouldn’t have first years wrestling a massive troll 5 times their size,”

The tips of Weasley’s ears turned red and he glanced away at the wall, “Oh, I didn’t think of that”

“60 A.M?” Hermione asked, and when they looked at her confused, she clarified, “Earlier, Cassiopeia said 400 B.C, but Draco said 60 A.M, I’ve never heard of A.M. what is it?” 

“It’s the wizarding calendar, A.M. stands for Anno Merlini, which is Latin for ‘in the year of merlin. It is or…” Draco paused, before continuing “was the main way of measuring time from when Merlin was born. With the growth of muggleborns and to make the wizarding world more friendly for them the amount of people dropping the Merlin calendar grows,”

“It’s still used mainly by families who have been in magical society for a while and people that follow the wheel of the year,” Cassiopeia added. 

“The wheel of the year?”

Cassiopeia had just begun to open her mouth to answer when she suddenly heard a jovial voice. 

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance!” A ghost (a ghost?) said, dressed in monk robes and floating through the room, seemingly not aware of them. 

“My dear Fat Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?” said the other ghost, this one wearing a ruff, a doublet and a pair of breeches. 

“New Students!” The (presumably) Fat Friar called,  “About to be sor-” his eyes swept across the room and he froze upon making eye contact with her. What little color that remained in his face drained. 

The other ghost turned to look at her, and so did all of the other ghosts in the room. They all had the same reaction as the Fat Friar and they rushed out of the room in one mass exodus, murmuring among each other frantically. 

Just then, McGonagall stepped through the doors of the great halls and glanced around as if looking for something. She looked confused momentarily before she wiped her expression clean and turned to them, “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now,

form a line, and follow me” she said, stiffly

They shuffled into a loose formation of a line and followed her into the rowdy hall. Cassie reached a hand into her pocket and cast a silencing spell so Atropos wouldn’t wake up because of the noise. He curled around her hand in sleep, providing her comfort, even if he wasn’t aware. 

The hall was massive, with great arching and intricate walls. There were four tables, with different colored runners down the middle. At the front of the room sat a head table with a chair for each professor and one gold, throne-like chair that an old man sat in. That had to be Dumbledore. Her nostrils flared and she found herself glaring at him, but she quickly looked away when he caught her eye for more than a second. 

“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I learned that from Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione whispered and Cassiopeia startled. She glanced up at the ceiling and stared at the starry, beautiful sky that she could see through the floating candles. If Hermione hadn’t told her that, she would have thought there simply was no ceiling. 

McGonagall strode up towards the head table and the stool in front of it and set down a raggy hat. The hat was torn in places and looked extremely dirty with several patches. 

Just then, the hat  opened from a rip near it’s brim like a mouth and began to sing, 

“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

The rest of the hall burst into applause and the first years glanced around, confused. 

“We just have to put a hat on?” Draco asked, incredulous. Cassiopeia shrugged helplessly. This was a bit anticlimactic.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted” McGonagall called, “Abbott, Hannah!” 

A pinked faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out from the line and rushed up to the stool. She seemed nervous to go first and she squeezed her eyes shut when the brim of the hat went over her eyes. 

The Sorting Hat paused, and had a moment of deliberation before calling, “HUFFLEPUFF!” 

The table with the yellow and black runner cheered and Cassie caught the Fat Friar waving merrily to the new Hufflepuff. 

The next few sorting went by in a blur of anxiety and reassuring her friend silently. Bones, Susan went to Hufflepuff after almost a minute under the hat. Boot, Terry went to Ravenclaw pretty quick. Brocklehurst, Mandy went to Ravenclaw. Brown, Lavender to Gryffindor, and Bulstrode Millicent to Slytherin. 

After a while she tuned McGonagall out and just started to glance around the Great Hall. Dumbledore and another Professor were staring at her. She glanced at the one she didn’t recognise, the one with greasy black hair and her scar twinged. She quickly looked at the ground, slightly panicking. 

Did that mean something? The horcrux was in her scar wasn’t it? What did that say about that professor? 

She was broken out of her stupor when Professor McGonagall called, “Granger, Hermione!” 

Cassie darted a hand out and squeezed Hermione’s hand in reassurance. Hermione smiled at her and strode up to the hat, a shaky, but confident expression on her face. 

After several minutes, the Sorting hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Hermione took off the hat and went to the Gryffindor table, grinning. Cassie clapped and waved at Hermione and she waved back. 

“Longbottom, Neville!” Professor McGonagall called next and Neville startled. 

She caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile and he smiled wobbly back at her. 

The Sorting Hat sat on his head for a long time before it finally screamed, “GRYFFINDOR!” 

Neville took off with the hat on his head and he was halfway to the Gryffindor table before he realized it. He scampered back to the stool and shoved the hat at Professor McGonagall, cheeks flushed while the hall laughed. 

She clapped along with Neville’s new housemates and waved cheerily at him, and he smiled back, looking relieved. 

“Malfoy, Draco!”

Cassiopeia bumped their shoulders together playfully and Draco rolled his eyes at her, but she could see the laughter in his face. 

“I’m not nervous!” he said, looking pretty nervous to her. 

Instead of calling him out, she just laughed and pushed him softly on the back. He rolled his eyes again and swaggered up to the stool with nervous confidence. 

 Almost before the hat touched his head, it screamed “SLYTHERIN!” 

Blaise shifts behind her, “I’ve never seen Draco so carefree with anyone,” 

Cassiopeia shrugged, still clapping for Draco. She could feel Theodore’s strange look boring into the back of her head. 

McGonagall called several names that she didn’t pay attention to before- “Nott, Theodore!”

Theodore walked up to the stool silently, a stoic expression on his face. The hat sat on his head for a minute and a half before it called, “SLYTHERIN!”

She shifted on her feet nervously. Her and Blaise were one of the few people remaining to be sorted and people are looking at the group of first years, looking slightly confused. 

She can hear their whispering. Where’s Cassie Potter? I thought she was going to be in this year? Where is she? 

“Potter-Black, Cassiopeia!” Professor McGonagall called, sounding confused and unsure. 

The Great hall broke into whispers “I thought her name was Cassie Potter?’ ‘The hell? A Black?’ ‘Cassiopeia? What?’ 

She walked towards the hat, head held high and she can see Dumbledore’s slightly panicked expression out of the corner of her eye and she smirked

The brim of the hat goes over her eyes. 

“Hmmm. difficult, very difficult. Plenty of bravery and courage, especially when standing up for your friends. That’s some real loyalty. And you’ve worked hard learning all you could before you came. You could do well in Hufflepuff,” The hat whispers in her head. 

“:But you do have a thirst for knowledge, yes, yes. A strong urge to learn. You’d fit in well with your creativity and ingenuity with spells. Plenty cunning too. Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness! Yes…yes teaming with ambition and a natural leader too. Once I met a young boy like you as well. Although he was a bit more…”

“Psychotic? Concerning? Deranged? You are referring to Voldemort, yes?” Cassie asked, a slight venom in her tone. 

“Yes… I am. Shame he turned out that way, Tom Riddle was much sadder as a youth than homicidal,”

“I’m not going to become him,” She said fiercely. 

The Sorting Hat chuckled “Such bravery and ambition in that statement. Well what are your goals?”

“I’m going to rebuild all of my houses and defeat Voldemort. He created Horcrux’s, vile magic that needs to be destroyed for him to be killed, and I’m going to do it.”

“There you are showing off your ambition… Better be-” The Hat whispered, sounding satisfied. 

“SLYTHERIN” He shouted, this time no longer in her head. 

Cassie stood and gave the hat back to a shocked looking Professor McGonagall. The hall was silent, before Draco started clapping at the Slytherin table, elbowing Theodore to join in and the rest of the table followed suit, but they also sounded confused.

  ‘Cassie Potter? In Slytherin?’ “Did you not hear the Black part?’ “there hasn’t been a Black at Hogwarts in over a decade!’ ‘I thought the only people left of the blacks were Sirius Black, and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy?’ I think there’s still a great aunt or two alive’ 

She sat proudly at the Slytherin table, claiming the seat in between Draco and Theodore. 

“Heiress Potter-Black, this is Heiress Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Heiress Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Heir Goyle and Tracey Davis. You’ve already met me and Theodore,” Draco announced, gesturing to each of them. 

“Good day, Lady Magic Bless you,” Cassie said, bowing her head in greeting. 

“Dumbledore can’t get you out of this one Potter!” Parkinson snickered from next to Draco, making a mocking expression

“ Heiress Potter-Black” Cassiopeia said, sharply. 

“Good Day, Lady Magic Bless you. Call me Daphne” Greengrass said, nodding at her.

“Cassiopeia, please,”

“Lady Magic Bless you” Parkinson said, sarcastically, “Draco, why are you sticking around her!” Parkinson whined, half hanging off of Draco. 

Draco was leaning away from her slightly and he rolled his eyes and glanced at Cassiopeia helplessly, “Pansy just, be polite please? She’s my friend, now get off of me. 

“Lady Magic Bless you, just call me Millicent”

“Call me Cassiopeia,” She responded, smiling. 

“See Pansy?! Just be polite!” Draco said through gritted teeth. 

“Lady Magic Bless you, Heiress Potter-Black” Goyle said, in a heavy Cornish accent

“Lady Magic Bless you,” Crabbe repeated in an accent, almost heavier than Goyle’s.

“Magic bless, Call me Tracey,” Davis, or- Tracey said, an Irish lilt in her words. 

“Call me Cassiopeia”

They were interrupted from formalities when the Sorting hat called ,”SLYTHERIN!” And Blaise joined them at the Slytherin table, sliding into the seat between Theodore and Daphne. 

Just then, Dumbledore stood, “Welcome! Welcome to our new year at Hogwarts yo returning and old students. Before we begin our banquet,I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

Several people clapped, most notably, those at the Gryffindor table. She glanced around at her housemates, finding expressions of veiled disgust, amused upper years and looks of un amusement. 

“Draco introduced you as Heiress Potter-Black and the Sorting Hat announced you had Cassiopeia Potter-Black, yet- the entire population of wizarding Britain knows you as Cassie Potter,” Daphne said, “What is going on?” 

“Yes, well a rather new piece of information came to light, shortly after my  tenth birthday, when I claimed my heir rings, I found out that my parents actually had a third in their relationship,” 

Daphne and Parkinson both lean forward, interested for vastly different reasons and half of the table’s attention snaps to her. 

“My blood adopted father is Regulus Arcturus Black and he is who I inherited the Black heirship from,” Cassiopeia said, grinning like a shark 

Several gasped of shock are heard throughout the table

“Although, Dumbledore can’t know that I know,” She added, glancing around the table to make sure people were listening, “He was trying to keep it from me in the first place,”

“So that means that you’re cousins?” Parkinson asked, looking slightly relieved and glancing between her and Draco 

“Oh shut up Parkinson. No one wants to hear about your desperate crush on Draco,” Daphne spat scathingly, 

Cassie sat back in shock and made eye contact with Draco, silently asking is this normal? 

Yes. he replied in a look full of exaggerated despair. 

Millicent broke the silence of Daphne and Parkinson glaring at each other with an eye roll and asking,  “Cassiopeia - the Potters have been notoriously gray, and in recent generations, leaning towards light, but the Blacks are all dark, which side do you fall on?”

“I haven’t truly devoted myself to one side yet. Some of my beliefs swing in opposite directions from each other,” Cassiopeia said, frowning.

Blaise’s eyes flicked over to her from his food, ‘Which views? 

“Well, for one I believe that muggleborns should be welcomed into the wizarding world as new blood, but I also believe in the conservation of history and culture of the magical population,”

“Isn’t that in itself, a contradiction?” Millicent asked. 

Davis frowned and picked at her food, “Not automatically no. Heiress Potter-Black’s beliefs here aren’t a contradiction because she believes in welcoming new blood as she calls them and to teach them our ways, am I right?” She asked, continuing at Cassie’s nod, “but it is a contradiction if someone claims to accept muggleborns and integrate their holidays over our own and also saying that you are protecting wizarding culture at the same time,” 

Tracey glanced up from her food, and glanced between them, “What?” She asked “Why are you guys staring at me?”

———————

Severus Snape’s eyes followed Cassie Potter as soon as she entered the room. She looked less nervous than the other first years and was surrounded by a gaggle of friends

Pampered Princess Potter he sneered internally, ignoring the sort of him that screamed this was Lily’s daughter too. 

The girl had long black curly hair tied up in a complicated and intricate bun with a fancy hair piece that swings with diamonds every time she moves her head. 

She stands the leader in front of her friend group and Severus startles upon finding Draco, Heir Nott and Heir Zabini among Heir Longbottom, (who was the only part of the entourage he had predicted). An anxious, black, and presumably muggleborns girl figited her hands nervously, calmed by a palm Potter rested on her arm. 

He watched as her friends around her, so far, all being either sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin dwindled to only Heir Zabini, and then her name was called.

he snorts internally at the momentary thought that the girl would be a slytherin. there was no way in magic’s name that would ever happen. Potter was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, just like her father. She had no need for Slytherin traits.

His heart beat grows steadily faster and faster as the seconds tick by and the sorting was yet to reach a conclusion at the girl’s house. 

Finally the hat opens its ratty brim and shouts SLYTHERIN! and Severus breathes a sigh of relief before he freezes. Slytherin? What?

Albus Dumbledore is calm, cool and in control. All was going well. Hagrid had delivered the girl’s Hogwarts letter, and with Ivorytooth, the Potter Account manager on his side there were no pesky revelations about heirships or possibilities for the girl to find out about the spells he had cast on her as the only medical professional in staff was half mad with a spell he used to keep her contained.

Originally, Madam Ponfrey asked too many questions and was far too willing to argue with him. A simple white magic spell and Madam Pomfrey was as submissive as a dog. The white magic felt no different than normal magic, proof that either he was the greatest wizard alive, or light magic was simply better than dark magic. 

He watched the girl with a thoughtful look as she walked into the hall, encased by friends, none of which were Ronald Weasley like he expected. He frowned, around her was a Malfoy, another boy who looked so strikingly similar to the death eater and Wizengamot member Theodorus Nott that he could only be his son, a black girl who he didn’t recognize, a tall dark skinned boy and Neville Longbottom. 

Out of all of them, Malfoy and the presumed Nott were the biggest problems. Neville Longbottom was a good companion and the black girl looked far too in awe of everything around her to be anything but a muggleborn. 

His eyes fell on the girl who’s true name was Cassiopeia Potter-Black, unbeknownst to many. His eyes flashed at her features, dark curly hair, from when she looked up at the head table, he caught sight of one green, one gray eye. What had happened to the blood glamor he’d put on her? It shouldn’t have worn off as she’d grown but there was always a small chance that his magic had failed as she began puberty. 

Several students get sorted as he watches Cassiopeia and her group of friends. The first of them is called and when a Hermione Granger gets sorted into Gryffindor, he breathes a sigh of relief. If enough of her friends go to Gryffindor she will be swayed to join them, even with the influence of Malfoy and the probable Nott. 

Neville Longbottom is sorted into Gryffindor, and after a brief stint where he makes off with the hat still placed upon his head, he takes a seat at the Gryffindor table and waves at Cassiopeia. Albus’s faith and sureness grows stronger as yet another of her friends is sorted into the house of the lions, increasing her chance of going there.

He is disheartened when Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott are both sorted into Slytherin and the girl accepts it the same way she’d done for her other friends, with cheers, applause and a smile sent into their directions, only with a slight coldness and stiffness in her smile to Nott and Albus’s hope grows with her apparent dislike of the Nott boy. 

McGonagall called “Potter-Black, Cassiopeia!” and he sat up straight in his chair like an arch of lightning had just struck him. He watches as the girl responds to her real name without the slightest hint of confusion at what should be a name she couldn’t have heard after she’d turned two. 

He watches with bated breath, eyes locked onto the small child on the stool in front of the head table. She sits there as the minutes tick by, remaining on the stool, twitching as she most likely answers the Sorting Hat’s questions in her head. 

He checks his watch every so often, watching the second hand crawl by, the minute hand slowly tailing behind. 

Three minutes. 

The girl’s back stiffens and she straightens up, but the hat continues its long silence. 

4 minutes. 

Cassiopeia’s square’s her shoulders and lifts her head, as if she’s giving a proud speech.

His watch hand had just passed four minutes and 30 seconds as he watches Minervra’s anxious form, when the Sorting hat opens its brim mouth and screams…

“SLYTHERIN!

Albus freezes, his mouth slightly agape along with the rest of the hall. Slytherin? How? Have his enchantments failed? 

When all the food had disappeared, along with their dishes, several students stood up, all with a badge pinned to their robes. Two of them, the youngest of the bunch gestured towards their part of the table, “First years! Come with us!” The girl called towards them. 

Her housemates stood and they walked hastily towards the Prefects. 

“I’m Terrance Higgins, and this is my other 5th year prefect Victoria Crowe. Follow us,”

There was some murmuring among her housemates, identifying what families they were from. Crowe was one of the houses that monitored land under the Rosier family, Higgins, a name she didn’t know, but Draco had whispered to her, “The Higgins family owns a well respected apothecary and they’ve been in Britain for a while,”

The prefects lead them through the halls of Hogwats, taking stops and alternate routes to show them classrooms. The two prefects marched ahead of them, the first years trailing after them like baby ducklings. 

They came to a stop outside of a bare spot of wall, only different from the others because a thin snake etching traipsing across the bottom of the wall. 

Crowe gestured to the wall, “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The password changes every month, be sure to remember them. If you can’t remember, ask a friend. The Gryffs have been known to leave someone who doesn’t know the password out in the cold. We will not be doing the same.” She said coldly. 

“Salazar,” Said Higgins and the bricks slid apart, folding back into the wall and the doorway moved forward against the stone wall, unnaturally silent against the stone floor of the dungeons. “The password is simple for the first month to get the firsties used to the system, don’t forget it when it’s changed, there will be a notice on the board when the change takes place,”

They all nodded and followed Higgins and Crowe as one of them swung the door open into the slytherin common room. 

The first thing Cassiopeia noticed was the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the massive room. The windows showed the dark Black Lake, with little visibility in it. She watched a mermaid swim by, barely taking note of the students inside beside a cursory glance before she continued to swim on, long fingers clutched around a lantern that emitted a sickly green glow. 

A fire crackled happily inside of an intricately carved fireplace, and she spotted another fire on the other side of the room, this time in a white marble fireplace merrily sparking every so often. 

Black leather couches and emerald green chairs were splattered around the room, on top of rich and soft rugs interspersed with dark wood tables surrounded by chairs ment for studying. The wall opposite the large glass windows and on the same side as the entrance were massive bookshelves, filled to bursting with books of all ages. 

Paintings and tapestries lined the walls, showing off previous Slytherins and different kinds of snakes. One she spotted looked exactly like Atropos and her hand darted to the pocket of her formal uniforms where Atropos was sleeping. 

3 large pillars went across the center of the room, around them a carved stone snake on each. On the wall next to the entrance a large stairway sat. Two curved, stone carved staircases lead up to one landing each with a detailed carved snake on its railing. From what she could see, the staircase continued onwards, up towards a point she couldn’t see. 

Overall, in opulence it only came second place to Black Castle. 

“Welcome to Slytherin,” Higgins said. 

“Your life just got harder.” Crowe cut in, “If you need anything talk to us. The 5th year prefects are in charge of the firsties, the 6th year prefects in charge of the 2nd and 3rd, with the 4th years going to the 7th years. The rest of the school won’t be your friend. Slytherins have been targeted and belittled for the actions of past Slytherins. These will exceed taunts and pranks and extend into jinxess in the hall and hexes. Retaliation is expected, but don’t get caught. You get caught, you get blamed for what happened to you. You have to be impeccable. Beyond even the largest of insults,”

“While you are here, your house is your family.  If you don’t get along with somebody, or you get in a horrific fight with your best friend. Keep it in the common room. They sense a weakness, they go in hard. There’s a dueling ring down the corridor. Talk to either myself or Crowe to set up a duel between you and your housemate and we will supervise. Keep the common room clean and pick up after yourselves. The Hogwarts house-elves aren’t here to pick up your dirty laundry,” Higgins said

“Hampers are located at the ends of your beds and laundry is done every week,” Crowe added.

“Look to the notice boards for any house information,” Higgins said.

“We will turn this over to Professor Snape, your new head of house,”  

The greasy haired man who had been staring at her earlier stepped out of the shadows where he had been hiding before and her heart spiked with anxiety. Not only did he make her horcrux scar sting, he was also her head of house? He was a pale, sallow man with a sour expression on his face with a hooked nose and greasy hair. He immediately swept his gaze over all of them and Cassiopeia got the sense that she wanted to try not to anger this man. 

“As previously stated,” he said, “your house is your family. Treat them as such. House meetings are mandatory, and grades must not slip below an ‘acceptable’. An EE is preferred above an ‘A’ and if it slips from an A you will be assigned a tutor from either your year or the year above,”

“First years must be in the common room by 9:30 PM, second to fourth years by 10 PM, 5th and 6th years by 11 PM, seventh years by midnight. Failure to follow these rules result in detention with me or a professor I deem suitable and a point deduction,” He pauses for only what she can assume is dramatic affect, “Do not disappoint me,”

Then he strode out of the common room with a swish of his cloak after glaring at them. His gaze had lingered on her the longest and she’d raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Your rooms are magically assigned, with an attached bathroom. Each year has their own small private common room specifically designed for the purpose of study groups,” Crowe said , “Follow us,” 

Crowe and Higgins both strode up the steps, leading them to the first landing. 

“What about the 7th years?” Tracey asked, “Won’t they have to climb up all of those stairs?”

“There’s another entrance,” Higgins said, eyes sparkling, “See if you can find it,”

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him. Oh she definitely wants to find that entrance. 

Crowe rolled her eyes and swung open a door to reveal a small room, with low leather back couches, a roaring fireplace, a soft emerald green carpet, several bookshelves, a chandelier and two staircases on opposite sides of the room. “This is your common room,” she said, “use it wisely, it’s a privilege. Girls follow me, boys follow Higgins”

Cassie waves goodbye to Draco, Blaise and Theodore before following Crowe and the other girls to the staircase on the other side of the room. They follow Crowe up the stairs and she gestures to the doors lined on the wall.

Each of the doors is labeled with names, and Cassiopeia found hers on a plaque on the far end with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode share the other room. 

Crowe led them through Millicent and Tracey’s room and into another door that opens into a large bathroom. There’s several walled off showers and marble topped vanities for each of them. There’s a collection of sinks and a walled off area that she assumes is for the toilets. 

The bathroom is very fancy with marble tile and black marble decorations. A lot of marble she thought. 

“That’s all I have to show you,” Crowe says, glancing at her watch, like she’s anticipating something. “It was nice talking to you ladies. Go to bed. I’ll be off myself,” 

The girls all nodded in acquiescence and exit to their rooms through each of the doors. Cassiopeia waited a minute before leaving the bathroom, waiting to give Crowe time to vacate the first year common room. She walked into her room that she shared with Parkinson and Daphne and stopped short at what she saw. 

Daphne and Parkinson were in a staring match, glaring at each other, not even remotely paying attention to Cassiopeia. She took the opportunity, hoping  that the two rivals would be two busy arguing to notice her absence and slipped out the door. 

She strode into the common room, glancing around for any people before carefully and silently walking down from the stairs. She reaches into her pocket, shaking Atropos awake and snapping the silence charm.

“Atropos,” she hisses, “Wake!”

The snake shifts groggily in her pocket, slowly slithering his way up to her shoulders, “What is it Speaker? Where are we?”

“We’re in the first year Slytherin common room. We’re going to go spy on the court meeting.”

“That you're not allowed to see?” He asks. 

“Yes,” 

Atropos sighs but urges her forward, “Stop,” he hisses, once she reaches the door. “Check for wards,” 

She reaches out her hand and focuses on the doorway, sensing for any magic. To her dismay, she can. They’re strong ones too. They’re not to stop her from leaving, but rather to alert Severus Snape that she’d left the first year common room. And when she’s trying to spy on a house meeting she’s not supposed to be at. That’s very problematic. 

Cassiopeia taps her foot nervously on the floor and stares at the door, thinking. She hears that voice again, that she heard when the castle first came into view, the voice of Hogwarts, “ Let me help you, Heiress of Slytherin. “ it whispers in her ear and the wards part like curtains to allow her through. She opens the door and walks through, quickly crouching down, out of sight behind the banister. 

The whole house is there, talking. “Gemma Fawley presented herself last year to be the next queen!” Someone calls, “Do we have any challengers?” 

A surly looking guy steps forward and the house steps to whichever side they prefer. The house is split almost evenly, but Fawley has the advantage. 

“The challenger is Aindreas Yaxley!” The same guy announces. People shuffle to form a large oval around them and the announcing guy sets up what look to be spell wards around them. “Alright! You know the rules, Go!” He shouts and at once Fawley and Yaxley are at eachothers throats, tossing volley and volley of spell after spell at each other. 

The duel ends with Fawley victorious and Yaxley looking slightly furious, but he doesn’t throw more than a nasty look at Fawley. 

Cassiopeia watches, intrigued, as someone nominates themselves a ‘prince’. It’s a guy named Callum Avery and no one protests, although Cassie thinks that might be because he has a sharp look in his eyes that says that he’ll destroy everyone in his path. 

She watches as each of the year groups pick a leader, smothering her laughter when Atropos makes a particularly funny comment, and almost alerting people to her presence several times because of it. 

The seventh years pick their leader to be a severe looking guy named Derek Hopkins and he goes uncontested. The 6th years choose an average looking guy named Eiran Steward, the 5th years choose Victoria Crowe; she’s challenged by her fellow prefect Terrance Higgins, but after she wins, he shakes her hand gracefully, and they seem to share a laugh about it.  The 4th years all unanimously agree on Cassius Warnington and she observes the sour look on Callum Avery’s face. The 3rd years are all squabbling about who to pick before they finally decide on two people, pick sides and Brigid Flint wins her duel. The second years, the youngest, mostly seem too timid to volunteer, but one of them, a kid named Magnus Rowle, steps forward and he gets his spot. 

As the session begins to close, she slips back into the dorm, Hogwarts splitting the wards to allow her entrance once again. She walks into her dorm room silently, closing the door as quiet as possible before turning around and nearly screaming at the sight of Daphne, perched on Cassiopeia’s bed, legs crossed and arms folded on her chest furiously, "Where were you?!” She whisper yells. 

“Er-, I was,” Cassie stutters looking around for something to say, “I was talking to Draco in the common room! Y'know, catching up on… cousin stuff?” She says, unconvincingly. 

Daphne gives her an unimpressed look and Cassie deflates, “Fine, I was watching the court meeting,” 

Daphne sits up and her mouth drops open, “But how? There are wards to tell Professor Snape if we leave our dorm when there's a court meeting going on. Tell me! What happened!” Daphne rushes out, all in one breath. 

Cassie laughs quietly, “It was a little boring actually, only 3 fights for the title,”

Daphne hums, “How did you even sneak out?”

“I have my ways,” Cassie smirks before grabbing her sleep clothes and walking into the bathroom, and Daphne follows her, “Tell me everything!”

Cassie sighs, “Alright. Gemma Fawley is queen, Callum Avery is prince, 7th years got Derek Hopkins, 6th years got Eiran Stewart, 5th years, Victoria Crowe, 4th years, Cassius Warrington, Brigid Flint for the 3rd years and Magnus Rowle for the 2nds. 

“Why didn’t you take me with you!” Daphne demands. 

Cassie rolls her eyes, “I didn’t know you would have wanted to come. And you and Parkinson were busy glaring and arguing with each other,” 

“I hate that girl! She’s such a bitch and she has no manners. I’ve hated her since we were kids. She’s such a pain in the arse that it's hard to believe she even exists! I mean did you hear her disrespect when you got sorted into Slytherin and then she purposely messed up your title!” Daphne vents.

“Oh, Dumbledore can’t fix this one for you Potter,” Daphne says, making a bad impression of Parkinson. 

Cassie rolls her eyes. Magic, living with these two in the same dorm is going to be insufferable.

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly sure of what to think about Cassiopeia Potter-Black when he first met her. She spoke with a strange accent -with  elongated S’s and strange pronunciations of letters. 

She spoke formally and acted just like one would expect of a pureblood - but she didn’t have her hair piled atop her head like what was expected of pureblooded women. 

She might be one of those witches that claimed the tradition of witches wearing their hair up was oppressive - or a mark of dark magic (when it was really just a showing of a witch’s magical prowess). So, he did his best to ignore her long hair, (which was entirely weird for him, as the only women’s hair he’d seen down was mother’s) and befriends her. 

When she reveals she was raised by muggles, revulsion and hesitancy rise in his gut. Mudbloods and Muggle-raised wizards tend to be discriminatory towards the Old Ways, but he doesn’t want to lose the friend he thinks he might’ve just gained. 

He sneers at her, “So you were raised by muggles? Do you know anything about our culture?”

He ignores how she tucks a curl behind her ear, “I know the basics, I’ve been away from them for two years now, but I haven’t exactly had much social interaction. I could use a guide,” she says. 

Hope wells in him and he puffs out his chest in pride, “Of course you need a guide! First of all, put your hair up,”

She frowns in confusion, “What? Why?”

“Haven’t you noticed anyone looking at you weird?” He says hurriedly, “Usually witches only have their hair down in front of close family, other women and their betrothed! It’s considered very weird that yours is down” 

She frowns but he can see understanding in her eyes. After a moment, she waves her hand near her head and he watches in amazement as the strands weave themselves into a simple bun. 

“Wha-” He says, gaping in shock. Wandless magic? At this age? “How did you- Wandless magic,” 

He continues to stare at her in open mouthed bewilderment before she nudges his shoulder and he blinks back to reality. She glances at something behind his shoulder and she grins. 

“Feel free to write, bye Draco!” She calls behind her shoulder, sprinting off onto the other side of the street. 

“Bye!” He calls halfheartedly, still shocked. 

—-----------------

Later, when his parents took him to a high end restaurant in Dagian way, his mother looks at him weirdly. 

“My little dragon, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Narcissa says, reaching across the table to grasp at his hand, “What’s wrong?”

Draco's cheeks pink at the nickname and his father scowls at the sign of physical affection in public. 

“I-,” Draco starts, swirling the roasted lamb on his plate around with his fork, “I ran into a girl today,” 

Mother’s eyebrow’s rise and Father glances at him, mildly interested, “Was she of-,” Father pauses and considers his words for a moment, “of acceptable standing?” 

Mother shoots her husband a look, before turning back to Draco. “Yes,” Draco says, nodding tersely, “Yes she is,” 

“Well Draco,” Lucius says, “What is her name? If she is suitable she could be considered for a marriage contract. I recall that you do not seem very fond of Miss Parkinson,”

“Draco is far too young to be in any set marriage contracts,” His mother says stiffly, stabbing her fish with force, “I believe we talked about this,”

“And I believe that you said that I could consider the options until he was old enough to have a formal one,” His father responds through gritted teeth, glaring at Narcissa out of the corner of his eye.

Draco watches the two. They did this sometimes, speaking like he wasn’t there and every time they did, he got the slightest bit more annoyed by it. “She’s not eligible anyways,” Draco adds. 

Mother and Father break their staring contest to look at him, “And why is that my little dragon?” Mother asks. 

“Well,” Draco says, “She’s Heiress Black, which means we’re related in some way. And I do recall you saying that you would refuse to allow me to marry someone of my own family,” Draco raises an eyebrow.

“Unless that has changed?” He adds., disgust curling in his stomach at the thought.

Narcissa and Lucius look shocked. “No-” Mother stutters out, before she smooths her expression, “Did she say who her parents were?” 

Well, she hadn’t exactly said where her Black parentage had come from, and he thinks that maybe excluding the Potter part of her inheritance for at least a little bit would allow their friendship to stabilize until his parents couldn’t force him to drop her. 

“No, she didn’t”

“You don’t suppose it’s Sirius?” Lucius asks Narcissa. 

“No,” Mother says, furrowing her brow, “He was… involved with that friend of his, Remus I think his name was. Andromeda was disowned before she had any children, and she is most definitely not mine.”

“Which leaves Bellatrix and Regulus,”

“I doubt Bella could’ve hid a pregnancy, unless she wasn’t the one carrying, but Great Aunt Cassiopeia is a metamorphmagus and there is a chance of her transforming into a younger woman to give birth. Although, Great Uncle Pollux could’ve gotten fortunate, even in his age,” 

Lucius considers the options, taking another bite of food, “From what you have told me, I don’t believe it’s Cassiopeia, she refuses to be tied down,” 

“No, I don’t believe that either. But I don’t believe it’s Regulus, the most likely parent is Pollux, however unlikely that is at his age. Is she your age darling?”

“Yes,” Draco confirms, “And her name is Cassiopeia,”

 “Then it’s settled,” His mother says, looking affirmed, “Pollux is her father and he named her after his sister. That branch of the family is second in line for the heirship, so after the death of the first branch, and Pollux’s death last year- may mother magic honor his soul - The heirship passed to her,” 

Draco resitis frowning at her conclusion and takes a bite of lamb to stop himself from saying something. He doubts that his Great-great uncle Pollux would have laid with the Potters, but he's never talked to the man very much, so he could be wrong. 

“Why in the world wouldn’t Pollux take the Lordship then? His daughter is the Heiress, but he never made a mention of control of the family,” Father asks, swirling his glass of wine. 

Narcissa frowns, “I’m not entirely sure, maybe he believed there was someone else in line, and perhaps he didn’t his daughter existed-” 

“She said she didn’t have much experience with magic,” Draco says helpfully. 

Lucius pauses in taking a sip of his wine and his mother looks at him. 

“She asked me to be her guide to the Wizarding World,” Draco adds, somewhat proudly. 

His parents continue to stare at him and he shifts in his seat somewhat uncomfortably.  

Mother purses her lips, “So… she grew up with, presumably her mother, found out about the heirship and joined the magical world,” she says slowly. 

“It’s… plausible,” Lucius says.

“Yes… yes I do believe it is,” 

“Draco,” Lucius says, his voice low as he flicks up a privacy charm, “I need you to convince her of the right way of thinking. I do believe you know what I’m talking about. The Dark Lord will return, and having Lady Black - even if she is not old enough yet - on our side during the war will be of monumental interest to the Dark Lord. You convince her and the Malfoy family will be rewarded greatly,” 

Draco nods seriously, feeling slightly jittery at the look in his father’s eyes. His mother purses her lips with an unreadable expression. 

—--------------

Hermione Granger  wasn’t exactly sure of what to think about Cassiopeia Potter-Black when they first met. She seemed nice enough, and they were both a part of the ‘Our parents were being pretentious when they named us’ club. 

The girl had literally bowled her over when they first met, the basket of books she’d been holding flying out of her hands and tipping over on the floor. The girl had then apologized while helping her pick up the books before Hermione took initiative just like her old nanny told her to do and introduced herself. 

“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you,” She says, sticking a hand out for a handshake. The other girl has a brief moment of relief on her face and Hermione wasn’t sure what for. 

“I’m Cassiopeia Potter-Black, nice to meet you,” The girl says, shaking her hand. 

Hermione’s eyes widen and she raises her eyebrows, “Like Cassie Po-” she starts before Cassiopeia slams a hand over Hermione’s mouth, almost pushing her into the shelf behind them. 

“Shhh!” she whispers, looking slightly frantic, “That’s me, but I don’t want people to bother me about it,”

Hermione stares at the girl, jaw open in shock and awe. This was her. Basically the celebrity in all of the British wizarding world. 

Cassiopeia’s eyes drift and she wrinkles her nose, “That book is terrible, and Slinkhard barely has any idea what he’s talking about. 

Hermione follows Cassiopeia’s gaze to the book in her hand and she gasps, clutching the Defensive magical Theory: Year 1 to her chest defensively. “But it’s in a book!” Books had to go through an extensive process to get published, through editors and a publishing company, and Flourish & Blotts was a well respected shop, where all the Hogwarts students got their textbooks. They had to have some sort of vetting system for trustworthy information. 

“Just because it’s in a book doesn’t mean it’s right, I mean people write down plenty of stuff they’re not qualified on, but they do it anyway,”

“Yes, but this is a ministry recognized book, and it’s by an award winning author, he has to know what he’s talking about!” The government approved it and that had to stand for something. Going through the government to get it’s seal of approval had to be at least a hard process, leaning towards the book being trustworthy. 

Cassiopeia blinks, “He’s an award winning author, in another subject . He’s most well known for healing, and he doesn’t even have a defense mastery. It’s only ministry approved because he has friends in high places,”

Hermione stares at Cassiopeia feeling slightly distressed. If the ministry could be bribed about simple things as a book , what would that mean about the reliability of the Ministry of Magic? “Then how are we supposed to know if anything is right? How would anyone create a new subject without being immediately shot down? The system of learning has to start somewhere. What if Slinkhard was just ahead of everyone else, and they just have to realize it,” 

“Well, I mean you do raise a good point, but Slinkhard’s ideas, specifically about jinxes and counter jinxes have been disproved by a council chosen by the ICW, he isn’t ahead of his time, he’s just making stuff up to sound smart.”

“That’s using the theory and knowledge we have now, maybe in 50 years Slinkhard will be proven right and all the people that are proving him wrong right now, aren’t correct,”

Cassie furrows her brow, “That’s just the cycle of discovery, but Slinkhard would have to prove his qualifications to further be considered on the matter and get an apprenticeship. Society won’t care what Slinkhard has to say unless he has concrete proof that what he’s saying is correct, and to get the backing of defense professionals, he needs to be a defense professional himself .”

Hermione follows a piece of dust floating through the air, trying to find a muggle comparison, “So it’s like citing things in essays in the muggle world… Checking your sources and all that,”

—----------------

That night, tossing and turning on her bed she stares off into space. She didn’t think she’d ever had a lower faith in books. How much of what she’d read was incorrect, was biased, or had used bribes to get it published? 

She throws off her covers and tiptoes silently to her bookshelf, long since used to being silent when she wanted to read in the dead of the night. 

Hermione sits criss cross in front of her large wooden bookshelf and stares at the spines. How much of this was false? How could she even know what was right and wrong? 

“History is told by the victor,” Hermione vaguely recalls her history teacher saying. It was one of those lessons that Hermione couldn’t pay attention to because everyone was talking and her history teacher was soft spoken and instead of getting firm when the class was rowdy, she got distressed. As a result, Hermione barely ever got to hear what she’d said. 

Same concept, different application. History is told by the victor. Books are published by those fortunate enough to afford it. 

Would she be different today if she had heard what her teacher had said?

—----------------

Neville Longbottom  liked Cassiopeia Potter-Black when they first met. She was kind, listened to what his grandmother said, but still purposefully brought him into the conversation. 

Then, they’d gone running off into the greenhouses after they’d finished dinner, and spent the rest of the time talking about plants. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable about herbology, but she liked to get her hands dirty, and helped him with some planting.

“I was raised in the muggle world you know,” 

Neville glances at her in surprise, “Really?” 

She smiles slightly, “Yeah, really. I lived with my mum’s sister and her husband and kid for a bit,” 

“But you don’t live with them anymore?” He asks somewhat hesitantly, sitting crisscross on the dirty greenhouse floor, uncaring about what his grandmother would say later about the mess on his nice clothes. 

Cassiopeia leans against one of the tall planting beds and pulls her knees to her chest. “Yeah,” she says, playing with the hem of her skirt, “They kicked me out when I was 10,” 

 Neville leans forward, “But that was over a year ago!” he says, horrified, “How did you survive? And why did they kick you out in the first place?”

Cassiopeia pauses, glancing at him warily. She suddenly spins around to face him, matching his criss crossed position and sitting knee to knee with him. “You have to promise not to tell anyone this until I start revealing it, okay?”

Neville nods as fast as he could. 

“I’m only telling this because you’re my godbrother, and I want us to be friends,” 

Neville gapes at her, tears welling in his eyes.

“Cross your heart you won’t tell anyone!” Cassiopeia stares into his eyes like she could read his soul through them. 

“Cross my heart?” Neville asks, confusedly. 

“It means that you won’t tell anyone,” She clarifies, then she looks toward the ceiling as if reciting something, “Earliest evidence of use is in the late 19th century a phrase used to say that you will keep your word or a promise, accompanied with a motion of an x across someone's chest,” 

Neville nods and makes an x motion over his chest, “I cross my heart I won't tell anyone until you start to reveal it,” 

Cassiopeia smiles gratefully, before she licks her lips and begins to tell her story,” I'm a parselmouth” she started and Neville gasped. 

“You’re a-” Neville starts before dropping to a whisper, glancing around furtively, “parselmouth?” 

“Yeah, and I found a snake in the garden from the magical world,” She pauses, as if waiting for Neville to interrupt before she continues, “At this point, I didn’t know that magic existed. I had gone nearly ten years of my life - excluding the first one with my parents - without knowing my real name, my parents or that magic existed. My relatives called me a freak for any bouts of accidental magic and would lock me in the cupboard that I slept in,” 

“That had a serious risk of turning you into an obscurial!” Neville whisper shouts, covering his mouth in horror. 

Cassiopeia nods grimly, “This snake told me about magic and I brought it into the house. The next day, my relatives found him and threw me out of the house. I got some help from I librarian, then I made my way to Gringotts,” 

“Is that where you found out about your real name and the heirship stuff?” Neville asks. 

Cassiopeia nods, “Yeah, then I traveled for a little under a year before I moved into Black Castle,” 

“Black castle?” Neville furrows his brow, “Why do you have access to Black Castle, why are you even Heiress Black in the first place?”

“My parents aren’t just James and Lily Potter. I’m also the daughter of Regulus Black,” 

“Regulus Black?" Neville thinks that name sounded familiar, "I think some of my parents journals might have mentioned him,” 

“Your parents kept journals too?” Cassiopeia asks.

“Yeah,” Neville nods, “It’s a really common thing for wizards to do, so that way they can clearly document their lives for the history books, but it also helps keep track of the family and who did what,” 

Cassiopeia hums, “I guess that makes sense,”

“Where did the parseltongue come from? The Black family gift is Metamorphagi, no one knows the Potters, but they don’t have parseltongue, where did it come from?” 

“My mum was from a line of squibs,” Cassiopeia whispers to him conspiratorially, “She was from a squib line of Salazar Slytherin’s first daughter,”

“But, families cast out squibs, and it disinherits them from everything,” 

“Not the Slytherins apparently,” Cassiopeia shrugs, “The line kept going and finally my Mum was born with parseltongue and the green eyes that meant she could be head of the family,” 

“Why would her eye color determine if she could lead the family or not? I thought You-Know-Who was supposed to be the heir of Slytherin?” 

“From what I understand, some families have specific requirements for their heir, but the Black, Slytherin and I think the Greengrass family have specification about their heir having a certain eye color, regardless of gender, because it means they have the family gift,” 

“I dunno about the Greengrass family, but most Blacks definitely do have that silver eye color,” Neville pauses, before pointing to Cassiopeia’s left eye, “Like your eye right there,” 

Cassiopeia nods, “Yeah. So Voldemort,-” Neville flinches. “Sorry-, You-Know-Who,” she says with a trace of disgust in her tone, “Couldn’t have been Heir Slytherin because he didn’t have the eyes, which means that he couldn’t have full control of the family magics,” 

Neville hums, “I guess those requirements would be harder to maintain, so that why there’s so little families with the eye color requirement,” 

“Probably,” Cassiopeia shrugs, “Especially with how small the genetic pool is here,” 

“Some of the families have requirements of male or female, that’s why the Gryffindor line is dead - it requires a female matriarch and no one knows what family it’s with anyways - but for some family the requirements are unknown,” 

“Like which families?” Cassiopeia asks, tilting her head to one side. 

“Ravenclaw, for one,” Neville says counting them on his fingers, “The records still show them as alive, but no one stepped forward to claim it. The Rosier line was very inconsistent with who was the head of the house, and not even the family seemed to know how they were chosen,”

“What happens to the land that the house is in charge of when they disappear?”

“Ministry jurisdiction, or the land is given to another house to take care of until the family returns,” 

Cassiopeia raises an eyebrow, “And that doesn’t cause conflicts?” 

“Oh it sure does,” Neville says, nearly laughing, “People fight over who controls what land all the time, but if the Ministry takes away the land of a family that the records still show as alive, the rest of the Wizengamot will riot,”

Cassiopeia laughs. “I feel like we should plant something if we’ve stayed out in the greenhouse this long,” 

Neville grins at her, “I have just the perfect plant,” he says, getting up, and offering a hand to his god sister. 

Cassiopeia takes his hand and stands, brushing the dirt from the ground off of her dress. Neville leads her over to the corner of the greenhouse that he uses to store plants that he hasn’t had the chance to plant yet. He pulls one out from the back and Cassiopeia reads the label. “Shrine Inkberry,” she reads, turning her head sideways to read the label sticking up out of the dirt of the temporary pot. 

“Also known as Ilex caminus. It’s a plant used to symbolize the forging of friendships and sibling hood, and is often planted by the parents when a new sibling is born into the family, or by friends when declaring they are siblings,” Neville says nervously, playing with one of the leaves.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cassiopeia absolutely beam and it must have been a trick of the light when he spots the tears in her eyes. 

They plant it together. They dig a hole into the soft earth of the plant box they’d been leaning up against earlier, breaking up the dirt around the roots before lowering it gently into the hole and packing the earth in around it. 

They stand and stare at their handiwork for a moment before Cassiopeia laces their dirt covered hands together and squeezes. He looks down at their interlaced hands and smiles at her, and she smiles back. 

Neville thinks he might finally have a real friend. 

A sister.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia sits bolt upright in her bed, breathing hard. She searches frantically around her bed for Atropos, hands shaking and vision blurring. Her hands meet his cool scales and she slumps back against her pillows, listening to the soft breathing of Daphne and Parkinson. 

“Atropos,” she whispers into the dark of the room.

He stirs next to her, “Yes?” He yawns. 

“Are you real?” She asks quietly. He slithers next to her, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Why would I not be real?” 

“I- It’s just that-,” she swallows, “This, my parents, you, Hogwarts, my friends. It’s all too good to be true,”

Atropos shifts and looks at her, silently urging her on. 

“What if this is all a dream?” she whispers, her voice cracking, “What if one day, I’ll wake up in my cupboard at the Dursleys and you don’t exist. Magic isn’t real and my parents really were drunks that got killed in a car crash,” 

“That won’t happen,” Atropos assures, “Because I am real. Magic is real. This is real,”

She purses her lips and stares at the stone ceiling above. 

“Why can’t I just believe you?” she whispers.

Atropos remains silent for a moment before he says, “Child, you will believe me in time, but let me assure you. The part of your life where you suffered at the hands of your relatives is gone.” 

She turns her head to face him, eyes brimming with tears. 

‘Your relatives” Atropos says, spitting the word relatives out of his mouth like filth, “Can’t hurt you again. This is real. I am real.”

“Thank you, Tropos,” she whispers.

He stares at her and she can sense the bewilderment from him, ‘Tropos?” he asks. 

She shrugs, “Nickname? I can’t just call you Atropos all the time, it’s so stuffy,” She says, wrinkling her nose. 

“It is… Acceptable. But you can do better,” he huffs, “But later. You are stinky, go shower,” 

She laughs softly, but obliges. Cassiopeia reaches blindly on the nightstand next to her bed for her glasses. The blurry room comes into clarity and she scoops up her shower things and her uniform before heading to the bathroom to shower. 

When she leaves the bathroom after a long, hot shower, Daphne and Parkinson are both half asleep, but already seem to be arguing over something. 

“Get your stuff off of my side of the room!” 

“Your side of the room! That’s my side!”

“Morgana, both of you shut up!” Cassiopeia groans, putting her face in her hands. Parkinson scowls at her, but Daphne is staring at her hair. 

“What?” Cassiopeia asks, shooting a look at Daphne. 

“I love your hair!” 

Parkinson’s scowl lightens up and she begrudgingly says, “It is very nice hair,” 

“Thank you,” Cassiopeia says, a small smile on her face. Her hair is most likely the part of her appearance that she likes the most. It’s long, reaching her hips even while curly. The curls are wild and dark, but she likes the chaos, and she’s gotten pretty good at making the chaos look good. 

The only part she doesn't like is how long it takes to dry. It takes fucking forever if she lets it dry the natural, long enough that if she showers often enough, her hair would be perpetually damp. So instead, she’s resorted to using a drying charm on her hair and that works fine enough. 

“Long hair like yours is the showings of a powerful witch,” Daphne says, “The longest hair I’ve seen on a witch is my mum,” 

Parkinson nods in agreement, but immediately, she looks horrified that she just agreed with Daphne. 

Cassiopeia eyes Daphne’s hair that goes down a little past her mid back, and Pansy’s hair that hangs loosely a little past her shoulders, “What’s the average length of hair for a witch?” she asks.

“A little past shoulder length,” Daphne shrugs, “like Parkinson’s”

Parkinson scowls and storms into the bathroom, grabbing her shower things and slamming the door on her way out.

Daphne frowns, “I didn’t even say anything that rude! That’s why I don't like her, there's nothing wrong with being average,” 

Cassiopeia just stares at the slammed door and Daphne turns to face her, “Can I do your hair?” She asks, a hopeful expression in her eyes, “Please?”

She glances nervously over to her bed where Atropos is laying underneath her covers, wary that if Daphne crosses to her part of the room, she’ll discover him. 

“Sure,” she says hesitantly, “There’s vanities in the bathroom right?” 

Daphne smiles at her and grabs her hand, dragging her into the bathroom. She sits Cassiopeia down in front of one of the mirrors and Millicent Bulstrode smothers a laugh next to her. 

She glares playfully at Millicent and Daphne quickly sets to work. 

When Daphne was finished, she had woven Cassiopeia’s hair into a bun style she’d seen in a magazine. It was very similar to the things she’d been doing with her own hair, but this one was done by one of her… friends? Was Daphne a friend?

“Thank you Daphne,”

“It’s no problem,” Daphne replies, grinning at her. ‘Thank you for letting me do your hair,” 

Daphne leaves to go shower and get ready for their first day of classes, leaving Cassiopeia alone. She stands and goes back into her shared room and clicks open the lock on her mother’s trunk. 

She pulls out her school robes and dresses quickly while neither of her roommates are in the room. Cassiopeia glances around quickly and hurries over to her bed, kneeling down. 

“Atropos,” she whispers, “Atropos! Wake up!”

He shifts in the blankets and turns his head to look at her, “What is it speaker?” 

“Do you want to come with me to classes today, or do you want to explore the castle?” 

“I will come with you today, tomorrow I will explore,” 

She smiles and scoopes him up, “Thank you,” 

He makes a small muttering sound and curls in her arms. She snickers and deposits him into a large pocket in her robes. She glances at herself in the mirror, looking around at her robes. They’re essentially the same as when she bought them, but with the Slytherin crest on the pocket and the green trim. She smooths out the robes, checking for any signs that Atropos would be revealed. 

Daphne steps out of the bathroom, and closes the door behind her. “We have to go, Slytheirn house enters the Great Hall together on the first day, we have to meet in the common room,” 

Cassiopeia nods, swinging her satchel containing all of her school things over her shoulder and opening the door out into the first year living space. Daphne follows behind and she grins at Draco as he is leaving his room.

“Cass!” He grins, jogging up to her, “How did you sleep?”

“Good, you?”

“Pretty good, are you excited for classes?”

Cassiopeia shrugs, “Yes, but also no,” 

Draco raises an eyebrow at her and they step through the door into the common room proper. 

“Yes in the fact that it’s magic, no in the fact that I’m already on the 3rd year textbooks,” 

Daphne looks at her askance, “Why would you do that to yourself? There’s nothing wrong with being ahead, but you’ll be incredibly bored during all of our classes,” 

“Well it was either be bored in the summer, or be bored during the year and you can never be too prepared,” 

Daphne sighs and Draco rolls his eyes. The first years slowly congregate all together, slightly separate from the group next to them, as she observed all the other years doing.  

Gemma Fawley steps forward, “Good morning everyone, Magic bless,” she pauses and people murmur ‘Magic Bless,’ back at her. “I am Gemma Fawley, this years Slytherin house queen. This is Callum Avery, this year’s prince.  Are we missing anyone? 7th years?

“All here,” Derek Hopkins calls.

“6th years?”

“All here!” Says Eiran Stewart.

“5ths?”

“Accounted for,” Victoria Crowe says. 

“4ths,”

“Present,” Cassius Warrington says, looking at Fawley cooly.

“3rd?” Fawley continues.

“Here,” Brigid Flint calls, standing on her tiptoes to be seen above her yearmates. 

“2nd years?” 

“We’re all here,” Magnus Rowle says, glancing around his years mates nervously, as if expecting one of them to unexpectedly disappear off of this plane. 

“1st years all here?” Fawley calls, looking directly at them. 

They all glance around nervously, each expecting each other to say something, “We’re missing Parkinson!” Cassiopeia calls, after taking a quick headcount. 

Draco sighs and puts his head in his hands, “I’ll go get her,” 

Just then, Parkinson comes stumbling out of the first year common room, hair frizzy and glancing around nervously at the full common room. 

“Parkinson!” Fawley barks, and Parkinson jumps, “Don’t be late! This is your only warning,” 

Parkinson nods and continues to her year mates quickly, with her head down.

“On feast days, the Slytherin house enters together. We will take attendance of all of the members of Slytherin house, and enter together.”

Daphne leans over her slightly to whisper in her ear, “I hid Parkinson’s robes,” 

Cassiopeia turns to her sharply, “Why in the world would you do that?”

Daphne smiles cooly, “Parkinson has been her family’s golden child for years, she can take being knocked down a few pegs,” 

Cassiopeia rolls her eyes and focuses on Fawley again and she leads them through the door. 

The rest of the house falls into step, the leader of each respective taking the lead and being at the front of their group. 

She glances around at her year mates, wondering who that will be in their year. She could see Draco or Daphne taking the lead. Nobody would follow Parkinson after she was embarrassed in front of the whole house. 

Their group started to move and Draco fell in on her left and Daphne on her right. She watches the rest of her yearmates,  looking for who would take the lead. They’re all behind her. Who’s leading?

She looks forward and furrows her brow, if they are all behind her, who’s lead- oh. She’s leading. Cassiopeia resists the urge to slap herself and instead, straightens her shoulders and lifts her head up high. 

Fawley leads them through the halls of Hogwarts and through the doors of the great hall. 

Draco leans over to her, “With your status as a heiress Black, mine as heir Malfoy and Daphne’s as Heiress Greengrass, I reckon we could take the halfway spot,”

“I’d say we could take ⅔ of the way down,” Daphne says, glancing over at them and keeping her voice low. 

“What the bloody hell are you guys talking about?” Cassiopeia asks and Draco raises an eyebrow at her. 

“The Slytherin table is generally organized by status and year. It goes from first year down at the end to 7th years and the Slytherin house royalty closest to the staff table,”

“Is there even a point to all that?”

Daphne shrugs, “I’ve been told the temperature regulation charms are better closer to the staff table, so it’s warmer in the winter and colder the closer we get to summer. I’ve also been told that the food is better, or there’s a better variety,”

“So why would we be sitting halfway?”

“Well, like I said, you have the Black and Potter Heirships, the Blacks are more influential on the scale of Britain, they’re old and notorious, and the Potters have a pretty big amount of sway in the ICW. The Malfoys are noble and ancient and the Greengrasses are the leader of the gray faction,”

“If it was just political power with the seating, the 3 of us would be sitting really close to the staff table, but because we’re first years, I’d say the best we should try for is the middle of the table. But we sit in year groups for feasts,” Daphne adds.

“Are the rest of our year mates joining us?”

“Most of them, yes. Parkinson, no. She embarrassed herself with being late, so she’s at the end of the table,”

Cassiopeia nods and sits down on a bench in between Daphne and Draco. The food is already there, so they just reach forward and help themselves. 

“Draco, can you pass me the eggs?”

The rest of breakfast was boring, only interpreted by Snape sweeping around the table to hand out schedules.

He scowls at her and she has to tug her schedule out of his hands. He sneers at her before sweeping away. She barely resits making a face at him, instead allowing herself to violently stab at the eggs on her plate with her fork. 

“What’s his problem?” Daphne murmurs, eyes Snape. 

“I was  reading through my parents journals and apparently my Dad and him did not get along,” Cassieopia frowns, “I think he’s taking it out on me,”

Draco scowls down at his plate, ‘I thought he was above that. He always acts so high and mighty when he gives me lessons, I would’ve thought he’d know better than to take it out on a kid,”

“Well,” Daphne says coldly, eyes tracking the head of Slytherin, “Some people just never learned to grow up did they,” 

She glances at her schedule and frowns. Double History of Magic, then Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, then Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryfindors and herbology with the Ravenclaws. 

“Look at this,” Draco murmurs, passing her the Daily profit. She reads through a small portion of it quickly. 

Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigation continues into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizard or witches unknown. 

Gringotts goblin today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. 

‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon. 

“A vault that was emptied the same day?” Cassiopeia thinks out loud, “Hagrid emptied that vault that same day of the break in,”

Cassiopeia glances at her watch, then nudged Draco and glances at Daphne, “We should go, class starts in 15 minutes, and we need to grab the right books from our dorms before heading to class,” 

Daphne nods and Draco shoves a last bite of food in his mouth before they stand and their plates disappear. The two of them follow Cassiopeia out of the hall, walking just behind her. 

The three of them hurry down to the dungeons and into their dorms to grab their books before rushing out and making their way to the History of Magic classroom as fast as they can, running when there wasn’t anyone else in the halls but them. 

History of Magic was dreadfully boring, and Cassiopeia had tried to take notes for the first quarter of class before she gave up and pulled out a fiction novel to read to pass the time. 

Draco was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, “I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn’t know it would be this bad,” 

The only ones still taking notes were a couple of Hufflepuffs she didn’t recognize, Tacey Davis, who seemed to be just jotting down a couple of points here and there, and Theodore, who was scribbling things into the margins of a book that probably had nothing to do with what Professor Binns was droning on about. 

Some people were sleeping, catching up on lost hours getting to know their roommates. Crabbe and Goyle were playing a round of Exploding Snap that she couldn’t see ending well. 

Daphne wrinkles her nose from where she was resting her chin on her hand, somehow making even that seem regal and unbothered. “He is rather boring isn’t he? What are you reading?” She asks, glancing over at Cassiopeia’s book. 

Cassiopeia flips a page, “A detective novel. It’s about a witch who solves mysteries for hire, cold cases, troubles and the like. Much like a magical Sherlock Holmes,” 

“Sherlock Holmes?” Draco asks leaning forward, “Who’s that?” 

“Muggle book character. He’s a genius fictional detective,” 

Draco hums and Daphne’s eyes drift past Binns and out the window. 

When the group of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins walk into the Transfiguration, immediately the things the students noticed was a tabby cat sitting scarily still on the Professor's desk. 

“Something is up with that cat,” Daphne murmurs warily, sitting down at one of the long desks. 

Cassiopeia slides in beside her, Draco taking up the last seat on the bench. “I agree,” Draco says and she nods as well. 

Cassiopeia reaches out to Hogwarts, asking for clarification and in a moment, she receives her answer, “Animagus,” she whispers to her friends, “It’s professor McGonagall!” 

Daphne and Draco’s eyes widen in shock and the three of them nod hesitantly at the cat. The tabby raises its head in greeting before its stare - or Professor McGonagall’s stare,  turns  back to the rest of the class. 

Lunch is a simple affair that passes quickly before they rush down to the dungeons for Potions with their head of house. 

The classroom is dimly lit, stations for cauldrons instead of desks, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard at the front of the room.

Cassiopeia sits down at one of the stations closer to the front, Daphne taking the seat next to her and Draco across. 

When the Gryffindors come in, Cassiopeia waves Neville over and he quickly rushes toward them, taking the 4th seat.

Again the door opens, and Professor Snape swept in, his dramatic dark robes billowing out behind him.

“There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few... Who possesses the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death” Snape says coldly as he strides into the room, reaching the front of the classroom and turning  to face them, 

“Potter!” He barks, and she jumps.

“Potter-Black,” she corrects before he continues. He sneers but she maintains eye contact, swallowing her nervousness and standing her ground. 

“Potter-Black,” he grits his teeth, “What would I get if I added powdered root asphodel into an infusion of wormwood?”

“You’d get a Draught of Living Death, sir,”

“And where would I find a bezoar?”

Cassiopeia  feels a surge of panic, as she searches through her memory of what a bezoar is, “The stomach of a goat!” she says relieved. That was 3rd year material, why was he asking these questions.

Snape scowls, “Correct” he says distastefully. He’s trying to make her look stupid, she realizes. Is it because of his hatred of her dad?

“What is the difference between Monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“They’re the same plant,” she says quickly, happy she knew this one right away, “Also called aconite,”

Snape raises an eyebrow and snaps at the rest of the class, “Well? Why aren’t you writing this down?”

All of them snap to attention, pulling out parchment, quills and ink to write down what she had said.

“It appears that this class might not be entirely filled with dunderheads,” he drawls slowly. With a flick of his wand, the chalk rises into the air and begins to scribble out instructions, “Begin,”

Cassiopeia writes down the instructions on a separate piece of paper, before rushing to grab her ingredients.

Cassiopeia stands proudly in front of her pearly white potion, the exact shade that the simple boils cure should be. 

When Snape passed by her cauldron he gives a little hum of approval and simply says, “Acceptable,”

Defense against the Dark Arts was only slightly less boring, the classroom reeks of garlic and she leaves with a headache.

Herbology too, was boring as it was mainly an introduction to what they would be doing over the school year, but Professor Sprout was nice enough and Neville seemed to adore her, so not the worst class.

Snape grabs her wrist before she can drop in the powdered lionfish spine into the common venom antidote they were working on.

“What are you doing Potter-Black?” he sneers

“Adding powdered lionfish spine to my potion sir,”

“I do believe that powdered lionfish spine is was not on the list of ingredients for this potion”

“Well, yes, but the spine will react with the mistletoe berries to make the potion work for a wider range of venoms without messing with the effectiveness,”

Snape narrows his eyes but lets go of her wrist and makes a motion that said continue. She drops the powdered lionfish spine into the potion and stirs it 7 times counterclockwise before 3 times clockwise and then she continues with the rest of the potion as it turns a light orange color.

Snape hums, “I expect at least foot and a half about the changes you made and how they react with the rest of the potion to be due next class,”

Cassiopeia lets out a sigh of relief and nods. 

“I thought we didn’t have potions homework tonight?” Draco asks her in the common room later, leaning over a game of chess.

“Snape assigned me something different because of the changes I made,” she mutters, crossing out a line on the paper and rewriting it. 

“If you don’t want the homework, don’t make the changes,” Daphne says, moving her queen, “Check”

Draco scowls and moves his king. 

“If I see something I can improve, I am going to improve it. I can't just leave it,” Cassiopeia says, flipping through a reference book she grabbed from her trunk earlier, “Magic damn it! I can’t find Azor’s quote about the lionfish spine!”

She scrubs a hand down her face, “Kill me now,” 

Draco laughs even as he’s put in check again.

“You’re really bad at chess,” Daphne comments.

Draco looks at her offended, “I’m good at chess, you're just really good!”

“If I’m really good, play against Millicent, I’ve never won against her,” Daphne says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why are you guys so… jumpy?” Hermione asks suddenly, glancing up at them. 

“It’s Mabon today,” Cassiopeia says brightly, vibrating with energy. 

“Mabon?” She asks.

Draco scowls and turns away. Daphne rolls her eyes at him and answers Hermione, “It’s a holiday celebrating Lady Magic and the life she gives the world.”

“Magic is in everything, despite the attempts to say otherwise,” Neville says, glancing at Draco and twisting his fingers, “But Lady Magic gives life to everything. That’s why people call her the great mother, because she gave life to the world and the other eight principles,” 

“The eight principles?” Cassiopeia asks, finally looking up, “I haven’t heard them be called that” 

“It’s mostly a slang term that isn’t usually written down anymore,” Daphne answers, before she turns to Hermione, “The eight principles are the eight gods of the Wizarding world, or at least the British segment of it-”

“Its big in other parts of the world too, but it’s  mainly practiced in the rest Europe” Cassiopeia interrupts, “The earliest records of worship we have was in  a hidden community near Mesopotamia,” 

“Messa-what?” Draco asks.

“Mesopotamia?” Hermione says, “You don’t know about Mesopotamia? The first urban civilization that we know of?” 

“You mean Badatava?” Daphne questions. 

“No, that's the ancient civilization that has the earliest records of worshiping the Eight Principles, but they’re right next to each other,” 

“What have you been there?” Draco scoffs. 

“Yes I have actually,” Cassiopeia says casually. 

“When?” Daphne asks, “How could you have gone to Badatava?” 

Cassiopeia raises an eyebrow, “I’ve been living on my own for over a year. I could basically go wherever I wanted,” 

“Mabon,” Hermione interrupts, “Get back on task, I want to know more about it.” 

“Right! Sorry,” Cassiopeia murmurs, “Mabon is the holiday celebrating Lady Magic. It falls on the autumnal equinox, when all magic is balanced between light and dark magic,” 

“But dark magic is evil!” Hermione shouts, before quickly covering her mouth in the silence of the library. 

Draco looks furious and he stands up quickly, his chair scraping along the stone floor, “I’m leaving,” he forces out. Cassiopeia glances at him and his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were turning white. 

“Dark magic isn’t evil,” Cassiopeia says quietly after Draco had left, “That’s a prejudice pushed by the ministry and furthered by the fear that came from the war with Grindlewauld and the war with Voldemort.”

Daphne and Neville flinch at the name. “Both light and dark magic have a sect of magic that is harmful to the caster, they’re called white and black magic. White magic corrupts the mind, causing detachment from consequences, like not caring if someone dies, while black magic corrupts the soul, usually causing insanity,” 

Hermione frowns, looking at the table. Daphne continues, “Mabon is celebrated with either a bonfire, or lighting candles to cleanse negativity from years past, an altar and a circle ritual if you wish it,” 

“Are..” Hermione starts hesitantly, “Are  you guys planning on participating?” 

They all nod and Hermione continues, “Would you mind if I… observed it with you?”

“Do you want to participate or just watch? You can participate without fully devoting yourself to follow the Eight Principles, some people only believe them in passing, while others have given them up for the Christian god or other religions,” Cassiopeia assures, “You’re experimenting, not fully committing to something,” 

“It’s your choice,” Daphne says.

“I only do an altar and the candles,” Neville offers, “I don’t really feel the need to do the circle, but I’m doing it anyways because traditionally, a wizard starts participating in circles on the first Mabon after your 11th birthday, your magic isn’t stable enough before hand,” 

Hermione runs a nail along the wood grain in the table, “I just want to try it first,” she pauses, then continues, sounding more assured, “Then, then I’ll see how I feel after,” 

“Of course,” Cassiopeia says.

“You ready?” Cassiopeia asks Daphne, looking up from her book on the sofa. 

Daphne nods and Cassiopeia stands up so they can walk out into the common room. Daphne slips her hand into Cassiopeia’s as they wade through the packed common room towards the other first years. There’s an upper year there, a 2nd year looking very much like he didn’t want to be here. 

“Alright listen up,” he says, “I’m Rowan Thames, and I’ve been assigned to lead you through your first Mabon circle, are you bringing anyone else?”

“Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor,” Cassiopeia says. 

“And Argel Benne from Hufflepuff,” Millicent adds quietly. 

Thames sighs “Did you tell them to meet you anywhere?” 

“Entrance hall,” 

“Entrance hall,” Millicent confirms. 

“That’s easy enough, come on follow me,” 

The gaggle of first years follows Thames through Hogwarts until they reach the entrance hall, where Hermione and Neville are waiting, along with a Hufflepuff girl she doesn’t recognize that must be Argel Benne. 

Hermione walks to stand next to her, fiddling the hem of her skirt and biting her lip.

“Hey,” Cassiopeia whispers, nudging her, “It’s gonna be okay,” 

“You don’t know that,” Hermione says, eyes a bit wild, “What if something goes terribly wrong, or I mess it up for everyone-”

“Hey,” Cassiopeia interjects, “This is my first circle too, I haven’t gotten the chance to celebrate any others, so if you mess up I’ll probably have messed it up too,  it’ll be okay,” 

Hermione bites her lip but nods and Cassioppeia slips  her hand into Hermione’s sweaty one and squeezes it. “Hey Nev!” she calls and he turns to face her, “Come back here so I can actually talk to you!” 

Neville lags behind the others until he is standing right by her side, “Friends with all the magic damned Gryffindors,” Draco sneers behind her and powered ahead, pushing between her and Hermione’s clasped hands to stand next to Thames. 

Neville’s shoulders hunch in on themselves and Hermione bites her lip, worrying her brow. “Ignore him,” Cassiopeia says coldly, loud enough for him to hear, “He’s too blinded by prejudices to make friends with anyone other than a Slytherin,”

Draco ignores her and continues walking. 

She links her hands with both Hermione’s and Neville’s swinging their arms like they were little children. 

When they finally reach the grounds and find a spot for themselves, Hermione’s shoulders have inched closer to her ears and she was fingering the hem of her skirt again. Cassiopeia squeezes her hand one last time before letting go. 

Thames directs them to form a circle and says, “ I will open the circle and you will point your wand at the ground and walk in a circle. Then you will say, ‘We call down magic to manifest among us, Protect us and guide us, then you chant Una cum nobis 3 times, before we repeat the whole phrase until we get back to our original places. Make sense?”  

They all nod and Thames steps into his position in the circle. 

“As the oldest wizard among us, I open this circle.” Thames announces, raising his hands. Together, they all turn to their right and begin to walk in a circle slowly, wands pointed at the ground. 

“‘We call down magic to manifest among us,” they call as one, “Protect us and guide us,” 

“ Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis, ” they chant and Cassiopeia swears she feels an increase of magic in the air. A tingling down her spine and the scent of petrichor on the wind. A tugging in her gut roots her to the path she was tracing, the magic swirling around them. 

“We call down magic to manifest among us,” they repeat, “Protect us and guide us, Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis, ”

They repeat the phrase a total of 7 times before they return back to their original spots and the circle roars to life in a dizzying array of colors. The line that they had traced with their wands is a brilliant rainbow of shifting hues that made it hard to look at. 

“Tonight, we honor our Lady magic, and laud the other seven. Mabon, our night to give thanks to Lady Magic, and the first ritual of the young ones starting their journey.” He says, sounding bored and as if reciting out of a textbook,  “One by one, I will ask you if you wish to perform a rite, the most common is a core detection rite at your age, and you have a right to decline. As I have no wish to perform a rite tonight I will start with Draco Malfoy, ” 

“I wish to perform the core detection rite,” Draco says proudly as he steps into the middle of the circle. 

Draco takes his wand and raises his arm to point it at the stars, “I call upon Lady magic to guide me, in life, in my journey and in who I am and who I may be. I begin my journey on your path with me. Ostende mihi magicae, Ostende mihi magicae, Ostende mihi magicae” 

From Draco’s wand erupts a beautiful, gleaming, black swan that swims through the air before fading into smoke through Draco’s chest. 

“A dark core,” Thames nods and Draco steps back into the circle, cheeks flushing and breathing hard but grinning brightly. 

Pansy walks forward next, her head held high. “I will be performing the core detection rite,” 

She barely waits for Thames’ nod before she raises her wand at the sky and begins the rite. From her wand a hundred glistening black butterflies burst forth and flutter around her shoulders. She grins at them in delight and steps back into her place on the circle. 

Tracey Davis was next, and she also performs the core detection rite, bright white suns spewing from from her wand, falling to the ground like snow. Argel, the Hufflepuff who she didn’t know, expels clovers in an iridescent white. 

Daphne steps forward next and her wand spouts black crescent moons that move like confetti in the air. Millicent gets gray snowflakes, Goyle receives small black triangles, Crabbe’s were a gray shape that looked something like a gem to her. Theodore’s were black stars of a variety of sizes. Blaise steps back from his black roses with a particularly proud self satisfied smile, so she assumes he's happy. 

Then it’s Neville’s turn. His voice wavers when he begins his, but it quickly steadies in the heavy magic of the circle. He stares in awe at the snow white petals that  hang around his body for several heartbeats longer than they did for anyone else, just so he could admire them. 

Then it’s her turn. She takes a deep breath and steps into the center of the circle where the magic seemed thickest. “I will perform a modified core detection rite,” 

Thames nods hesitantly and she continues. She takes a breath in for 2 counts and lets it out before she raises her wand towards the stars and starts to hiss ““My Lady Magic, I call upon thee to guide me, in life, in death, in health and disease. I ask for your aid on the threshold on your path and plead for your acceptance as your child. Show me the magic, show me the magic, show me the magic,” 

An overwhelming sensation comes over her, everything and nothing all at once. Brilliant colors flash on the edge of her vision, but all she could focus on were the shapes floating around her. She examines one and realizes what they were. A pitch black gordian knot. The shapes converge on her chest and vanish into nothing as she steps back  to the outer edge of the circle. She breathes hard after leaving the condensed circle of magic that was in the middle, ignoring the staring of the others. 

Finally, it was Hermione’s turn. She purses her lips and stumbles forward before she quickly rights herself. “I wish to perform the core detection rite,” She announces, tightening her jaw. 

Thames nods and Hermione takes a deep breath in before raising her wand to point at the stars. “I call upon Lady magic to guide me, in life, in my journey and in who I am and who I may be. I begin my journey on your path with me. Ostende mihi magicae, Ostende mihi magicae, Ostende mihi magicae” She calls, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Gray iridescent spirals flutter around her and Hermione hesitantly opens her eyes. She grins brightly and lets out a short laugh. 

Hermione steps back as the spirals coalesce around her chest and Thames raises his hands again.” A circle has no beginning and it never ends. This is our magic, and this is our strength. We honor our Lady Magic this Mabon and thank her for this gift. The circle ends, but Magic is with you. Prope spiro” 

On his final word the rainbow, iridescent magic breaks into splinters and fades onto their skin. 

“On Samhain, you will be on your own, this was to guide you through your first circle, Magic bless you,” Thames nods and leaves quickly, presumably to go talk to his other year mates. 

All of them, still slightly magic drunk, begin to make their way back to the castle, laughing all the while, several times Cassiopeia and Hermione spontaneously stop walking to spin in circles with clasped hands and dance around. 

They’re sitting in the courtyard, relaxing after class. Hermione and Theodore have books out, her and Neville are in the middle of a chess match that Cassiopeia is losing incredibly badly and Draco and Daphne are arguing about something that she wasn’t paying attention to. 

Weasley comes walking through the courtyard at a brisk pace, nearly stepping on their chess game. Cassiopeia scowls and looks up to glare at him.

“It’s a wonder she even has friends!” Weasley complains to Finnigan, not paying attention to them, “Granger’s a nightmare!” 

Cassiopeia’s nostrils flare and her vision narrows. She goes to stand up but Neville grabs her wrist and refuses to let go, “Cass!” He hisses warningly, “You can’t start a scene, you know how easily the professors blame Slytherins, especially with all of the witnesses!” 

Cassiopeia swallows and shoots a venomous glare at Weasley that he doesn’t notice, “She’s always on the edge of her seat to answer questions! She’s such a teacher's pet! ” He mocked as Finnigan nodded in agreement, “She doesn’t honestly think that any of her ‘friends’ actually like her, does she?” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassiopeia sees Hermione look down at her book, tears building. Fury builds in the corners of her vision and she yanks her wrist out of Neville’s grip and stalks up to Weasley. 

She flicks her wand of her hand and Atropos rises around her shoulders, “Don’t cause a scene,” Atropos whispers in her ears, “Notice-me-not,”

Cassiopeia grins coldly and she raises her wand. The magic rushes down over them like an umbrella and all the eyes in the courtyard slip over them. Weasley and Finnigan freeze and turn around quickly to face her. 

“And what do you want Potter-Black!” Weasley spits her last name like it’s a curse, but Finnigan pales at the expression on her face.  She knows it's cruel and cold, too harsh and furious with her burning hot anger at Weasley’s continued insults towards one of her best friends. 

“Finnigan,” She bites, her words sounding closer to parseltongue in anger, “Leave. Say anything of this or anything against any of my friends and you won’t find any mercy,” 

Finnigan scrambles out of the range of the notice-me-not charm and she watches as he runs into the castle, presumably to get a professor. That’s fine, she’ll be done by that time. 

“Weasley,” She says, fury burning cold in her words, “Leave Hermione Granger alone,” 

He laughs harshly, “And why should I do that? She’s such a know-it-all! You can’t actually like her, can you?” 

He’s grinning at her like they’re sharing an inside joke, like two friends who are laughing over a shared enemy. She flicks her wand back into its holster and Weasley’s eyes follow the movement.

She can pinpoint the moment he realizes just how angry she is. The anger has been festering for weeks, and it’s finally come to a head. 

She rushes forward, hand clenched in a fist, recalling the little she’d seen of fighting the muggle way that she’d picked up while first starting learning her daggers. She swings her left hand catching him across the nose and he staggers back. 

Weasley shouts in surprise, but he stares at her in anger. He balls his fist in a way that could end up breaking his finger and tries to throw a punch back. It’s sloppy, and slow. She holds out a hand to catch his fist and Cassiopeia hears a sickening crack. Weasley screams in pain and she aims a blow for his stomach. 

Weasley doubles over and Cassiopeia takes advantage of his distraction to knee him in the balls. He falls to the ground and she leans over him, making eye contact. 

“Don’t talk about my friends,” She threatens, before turning on her heel back to her friends, taking a seat at her chess game again. She drops the notice-me-not charm just as McGonagall and Finnigan come rushing into the courtyard. 

McGonagall hurries to Weasley, and she helps him stand. They say a few words and Weasley points to her, but Finnigan fervently shakes his head. She can’t make out what they’re saying, but she assumes that Weasley is blaming her and Finnigan is refusing to agree for his own safety. 

Cassiopeia smirks and turns back to her chess game. Neville is studying her silently. She raises an eyebrow at him, “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Neville doesn’t respond for a moment, just continuing to stare at her, “You can’t keep resorting to being violent,” He says finally. 

She scowls and stares at their chess game. “Yes, I can,” She says, “It’s worked so far with Weasley and Finnigan,”

“Doesn’t mean it’s sustainable,” Neville grumbles. “Listen, Cass, you’re gonna get in trouble for it. Serious trouble. If Weasley was anyone else, that could’ve been a serious charge if you weren’t careful.”

“Your turn,” Cassiopeia says instead of answering. Neville just sighs and moves one of his pieces. 

“Check,” He says. 

McGonagall hurries over to them, “Ms. Potter-Black, I need to see you,”

“Good game Nev,” Cass says, standing up, ‘Bye guys,” 

She receives a chorus of goodbyes from her friends and she follows McGonagall through the castle to the woman's office. Weasley is sitting there, along with a guilty looking Finnigan. 

McGonagall gestures for her to take a seat and she does, crossing her legs primly. ‘Mr. Weasley here says that you attacked him,” 

Cassiopeia does her best to look offended. “Mr. Finnigan doesn’t seem to agree with Mr. Weasley and I would like to get your side of the story,” 

“Well Professor,” Cassiopeia says, keeping her face carefully, earnest and offended, “There isn’t really a ‘my side of the story’ because I don’t know what you're talking about!” 

McGonagall raises an eyebrow at her, “ You mean to say that you didn’t attack Mr. Weasley today in the courtyard?”

Cassiopeia scowls, “the only thing I did in the courtyard was play chess with my godbrother,” 

“But-!” Weasley protests.

“She’s right,” Finnigan cuts in quietly, “It wasn’t her. She was playing chess when I ran to get you,” 

McGonagall hums and looks at her, “Very well, Ms. Potter-Black, you are dismissed,”

Cassiopeia nods and sweeps out of the room, barely able to hide her smirk.

Chapter Text

“It’s because you’re a filthy mudblood!” Draco snarls, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. Hermione recoils in shock, her mouth agape staring at him.

 Cassiopeia freezes and looks up at him, “What did you just say?” She asks, coldly. 

“Are you deaf or just dumb?” He sneers, “I said what I said.” 

Cassiopeia stands up from her seat, “Keep an eye on our books Hermione,” she says, barely keeping her anger in check. She snatches Draco’s arm and drags him behind her into the deep shelves. 

Draco yanks his arm from her grip and she sneers at him, radiating cold anger. “I told you,” she says, feigning calm, “That if you say the word ‘Mudblood’ again, that you could kiss my friendship goodbye, didn’t I?” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Draco laughed coldly, “I’m your cousin, besides, you need me. I’m your guide to the wizarding world, remember?” 

“ Need you?” She laughs, “I don’t need you anymore Draco. You’re not my only friend. But now your not either. My friend or my only one,”

Draco opens his mouth to respond but she cuts him off, “I don’t care that you’re my cousin. I was friends with you because I liked you and I thought you might be a good person under all that posturing and bigotry that your parents instilled in you,” she sneered, “But no, that prejudice I thought you could move past is just you.” 

“She’s a mudblood, they’re destroying magic!” 

Cassiopeia punches him and he rubs the side of his face with an open mouth, “During Hermione’s core detection rite did Lady Magic deny her claim to magic? Lady Magic blesses her children with magic. Hermione is a witch whether you like it or not. Muggleborns are not destroying magic. People like you are destroying magic with your prejudice and hate against those you perceive as inferior,”

 Draco seems to have gone catatonic. “Apologize to Hermione, and maybe you might save yourself from a sinking ship. Don’t just do it to get my friendship back. If it isn’t sincere, it isn’t an apology,” 

She doesn’t even bother listening to Draco's response, she just turns on her heel and walks back to the table. 

—-------------------

“Ignore Draco until I say not to,” She tells Blaise lowly in the common room. 

“Are you two having a petty sibling spat?” Blaise jokes before he pales at the expression on her face, “That’s the scary face, okay, I won’t talk to him,”

“Can you tell Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle to do the same?” she asks and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Do it yourself boss lady,” 

“I’ve known them for less than a month, they aren’t going to listen to me,”

Blaise scoffs, “Fine, but you’re in charge of telling everyone else,” 

“Thanks Blaise!” She calls to his back. 

—----------------------

“We’re ignoring Draco, " she tells the other girls before they separate into their rooms. Millicent wrinkles her brow and Tracy stares at her incredulously. 

“We are?” Daphne asks, 

“Yes,” Cassiopeia nods, “He’s being an incredible prat currently,” 

“So just ignore him until you tell us not too?” Tracey says confused. 

Cassiopeia nods and Millicent hums, “Simple enough, I don’t really talk to him,” 

Pansy scoffs and pushes through them to get to their dorm, “You old ninnies, ignoring someone over what was an unintentional mistake!” 

Cassiopeia rolls her eyes and sighs. 

—---------------------

Cassiopeia unties the letter attached to Hedwig's leg before she rubs at Hedwig’s breast and feeds her a small bit of bacon. Daphne keeps tossing Hedwig small bits of bacon while Cassiopeia unfurls the letter. 

Dear Cassiopeia, 

You students get Saturday off, so would you like to come and have a cuppa with me around three? I want to hear all about how school is going. Feel free to invite any friends and answer back with Hedwig. 

Hagrid 

Cassiopeia immediately felt intense guilt. She’d been so busy that she’d forgotten to talk with Hagrid. She frowned but grabbed a quill and scrap of parchment out of her bag. She scribbles down her response: Yes, please, I’m excited to talk to you again.

She rolls up the parchment and ties it to Hedwig’s leg, “To Hagrid please,” she whispers to her owl and Hedwig takes off, soaring high up towards the ceiling of the great hall. 

Cassiopeia turns to Daphne, “Do you want to join me for tea at Hagrid’s at 3?” 

Daphne shrugs, somehow still looking dignified, “I have nothing else to do,” Cassiopeia nods and turns around to catch either Neville’s or Hermione’s eyes. Neville glances up at her and she mimes talking and then points outside the doors of the Great Hall. 

Neville scrunches his brow and points to his wrist. Now? 

She shakes her head. After. 

Neville points at Hermione then makes a thumbs up. Her too?

Cassiopeia gives him a thumbs up and Neville nods. She turns back around in her seat and assembles a breakfast sandwich with an english muffin, egg, tomato and cheese. 

“Are they coming too?” Daphne asks. 

“Yeah, Hagrid said I could bring friends,” Cassiopeia says, emphasizing the last word and making eye contact with Draco, who the whole house has taken to ignoring, following the first years lead on matters with other firsties. 

Draco scowls and turns back to his own food. “How much longer is this going to go on,” Daphne sighs. 

“I told you. Until he sincerely apologizes to Hermione for calling her that word.” She says coldly. 

Daphne rests the side of her face in her hand, pushing around the eggs on her plate, “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen Cass,” 

—-------------

“Where does Hagrid even live?” Hermione asks as they’re trekking down to his hut. 

Cassiopeia points Hagrid’s hut in the distance, “You see that house down there? That’s where Hagrid lives,” 

Daphne squints, “The one with the pumpkin patch?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” 

They turn around quickly when they hear pebbles moving and the sound of falling. “Sorry,” Neville says, sheepish, “A rock moved.” 

Cassiopeia reached a hand forward, resisting the urge to laugh. Neville took her hand, hauling himself to his feet and continuing down the path. 

—-----------------

“Hagrid, this is Daphne Greengrass-

“Pleasure to meet you,” she interrupts, holding out a hand. She looks visibly surprised that Hagrid follows the custom and kisses her knuckles. 

“Hermione Granger,-” Hermione nods. 

“-and Neville Longbottom,” Neville offers a small hesitant wave that Hagrid returns brightly. 

“So, how's yer school been? Good grades and all that?”

“Snape sucks,” Cassiopeia grumbles. Neville nods in assent while Hermione looks scandalized. 

“He’s a professor!” 

“And he’s not bloody good at it is he?” Cassiopeia says scathingly, before she takes a deep breath “Sorry- that came out harsher than I meant it to,” 

“It’s alright,” Hermione says, and rests her hand on Cassiopeia’s for a heartbeat. 

“Can I get you somethin’. Maybe a cuppa?”

“That’d be great Hagrid, thanks” Cassiopeia says.

‘Yes please,” Daphne adds while Hermione and Neville just nod. Hagrid stands and puts the kettle over the stove. 

Cassiopeia absentmindedly rubbed the top of Fang’s head, ignoring the way he slobbered all over her robes as she told Hagrid about school and the Mabon celebration. 

Gradually, Daphne softened from her cool and calculating demeanor into something more true to her and was laughing freely with her, Hermione, Neville, and Hagrid. Content, Cassiopeia curls her fingers around the chipped mug and blows over the top. 

“Hagrid, what are these?” Hermione asks, flicking something that looks like a piece of bread, before she shakes her hand out in pain. 

Hagrid scratches at his beard “Those are my world famous rock cakes right there,” Then he pauses, “Well, If yer can tell, I don’t have much expertise, so the rock cakes are a bit, er, hard,” 

“Hagrid, do you want to learn to bake?” Cassiopeia asks and Hagrid looks at her brightly. 

“Would yer teach me?” He asks. 

Cassiopeia nods and Nevile glances at her, taking an experimental bite of one of the rock cakes before he recoils and puts it back down on the plate. “You know how to bake?” he asks, touching a finger to his mouth as if he was worried about breaking a tooth. 

“What would be the first recipe to teach him?” Daphne wonders. Cassiopeia rests her face in her hand and contemplates, mentally flicking through the recipes she has memorized. “What do you want to start with Hagrid?”

He hums as he pours himself more tea, “Maybe a bread if that’d be alrigh’ ” 

Cassiopeia nods and stand,  “Alright, I have a recipe in mind,” 

“What do we need?” Hagrid asks. 

“4 ½ teaspoons Active Dry yeast, 540 mL of warm water, some salt, 30 mL of olive oil, 780 g of bread flour and an egg beaten with some milk,” She lists off, counting off each item on her fingers. 

“Say that again… slowly,” Daphne says.

“Active dry yeast,” She says and Hagrid grabs a small jar from a cupboard and sets it gently on the counter. 

“Warm water,” Neville swings the copper kettle off of the fire and sets it on top of a trivet to cool down to being warm. 

“Sugar,” Hagrid points to a cabinet over Daphne’s head and she reaches up to grab the container before setting it on the counter. 

She can see the salt already out on the counter so she skips that, “Olive oil,” Hagrid lumbers over to a small closet that when he opens, has more drying herbs and other foodstuffs. He pulls olive oil off of the back shelf and sets it next to the salt. 

“Bread flour,” Once again, Hagrid reaches into the small closet and retrieves a sizable bag of bread flour. He puts the bag on the counter and it makes a loud thump!

“The egg wash comes later,” Cassiopeia adds, “But first we need to wash our hands,” 

The 5 of them work together to make the bread, taking turns adding ingredients. Cassiopeia teaches them how to knead the dough, and even Daphne, the most strict with keeping her hands clean kneads the dough with surprising gusto. 

When the dough is left to rise, Hagrid puts the kettle on again and Cassiopeia sets a timer on her watch for the 90 minutes it has to rise for. 

They spend the time laughing and joking so much that Cassiopeia doesn’t even notice the passing of time until her watch beeps signaling that it was time to bake the dough. They all crowd around the bowl together and remark about how much it’s grown, doubling its size. 

Hagrid removes a dutch oven from a bottom cupboard and they shape the bread into a loaf before carefully placing it into the dutch oven and setting it over the fire. 

After another half hour where the bread is cooking, Cassiopeia is sure that they’ll get sick of each other, but it never happens. They share stories of accidental magic when they were kids and funny stories. And Cassiopeia gets to complain about Snape and the extra work that he assigns whenever she modifies something. 

The bread is probably the best thing she’s ever tasted, and she doesn’t think it has anything to do with the recipe. She makes eye contact with Hagrid and his eyes are warm. 

—-----------------

“He apologized,” 

Cassiopeia raises an eyebrow, “He did?”

Hermione nods and slumps into the chair next to her, the dying sun making her face glow orange through the library window, “It was sincere too,” 

Cassiopeia furrows her brow and turns the page. 

“I don’t think I forgive him,” 

She hums, “That’s fair. I don’t think you should,” 

“Really? I would’ve thought you would have advocated for forgiving and forgetting. He is your cousin after all…,”

“Doesn’t mean I support him being a prat,” she huffs, “I’m not going to let my family be bigots,” 

“You going to start talking to him again?” 

Cassiopeia sighs, “Yeah. A promise is a promise, but if he does it again-”

“Yeah, I know,” Hermione interrupts, “We’ll see how it goes,” 

—---------------

“I heard you apologized,” 

Draco scoffs, “Don’t pretend you like me,” he scowled, “How’d you even find me up here anyways?” 

Cassiopeia shrugs and looks up at the stars, making out the lines of her constellation. She leans against the railing of the astronomy tower next to Draco, “A feeling,” she says, “And I do. I do like you,” 

“Sure,” he sneers, “Got our whole house to ignore me. Of course you like me!” He trails off, “You said it yourself. You don’t need me,” 

She nudges their shoulders together, “Just because I don’t need you doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” 

He resolutely ignores her. She sighs and continues, “Look… I’m not sorry about the silent treatment. What you said was wrong .” 

She stares at him, “But you're still my cousin. Still my best friend even if I don’t agree with your views. Regardless of what your parents have said about it, muggleborns are still human. Hermione is a person that deserves respect. She’s just as deserving of magic as the rest of us,” 

The wind rustles her hair and Draco glances at her. “Where I was raised,” her voice cracks, “They hated magic. They’d call me a freak for any accidental magic. Magic saved my life. Over and over again. When I was left on that doorstep. When I was beaten black and blue for an integral part of me. When I was literally thrown out of that house,” 

“Lady Magic is the reason I survived,” She stares resolutely at the sky, not wanting to see the expression on his face, “If she deems someone as worthy of her gift I’m not going to doubt that. No matter where they come from, good person or not. Magic flows through muggleborns’ veins, whether we like it or not,” 

“I-” Draco’s voice breaks and he starts again, “My father is a blood purist. My mother less so, but she was still raised with that idea. I grew up on stories of the great feats of the Dark Lord!” he said sarcastically, “I was… disillusioned I guess. With the tales and stories my father spun. Blood purity was a big part of it. And I-” He buried his face in his  hands, “I love my parents but- But how could they have led me so wrong?” 

Cassiopeia opens her mouth but he pushes forward, “My father always told me he would be coming back that he’s come back and-” he snaps his fingers, “-fix all of the problems by eradicating muggleborns,” 

“When I met you, my father told me to convince you of the Dark Lord's way,” he whispers, “To show you the great ways of the Dark Lord so we’d have something to show for when he came back. And I,” He sobs, “I don’t know what’s right anymore!” 

Cassiopeia laces their fingers together, “I’m biased. I cannot tell you your parents are right. I do not think that Voldemort is a good person. I do not believe in blood purity. I believe those are inherently wrong . But I will be here for you if you do decide that you don’t agree with your parents. I’ll tell the others to talk to you again,” 

“But that’s the thing!” Draco shouts, “I’ve already made up my mind, but this small, stubborn part of my brain still tells me that father knows best,” 

He pulls his hand from her grasp and puts his head in his hands, leaning heavily on the railing, breathing hard. 

“There’s still a part of me that sounds a lot like my aunt and uncle telling me that I’m a worthless freak,” she says quietly, “but it gets smaller. And I get better at ignoring it. Tell that voice no. That you are your own person and you will not let other people define you,” She says, and Cassiopeia isn’t sure if she’s talking to Draco or herself. 

“My time with my relatives still affects me,” She clenches her fist, “More than I would like. I’m violent because that’s all I knew growing up. I’m terrified of opening up to people because I couldn’t talk to anyone. I’m unsure because I didn’t have any friends to talk to. Your parents will always have an affect on you. Because opinions, and biases, and- and because even the softest of touches still leaves behind a feeling.” She pulls his hands away from his face. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad one,” 

She continues, turning to face the stars again, “My aunt taught me to cook, and it’s one of my favorite things to do,” she nods at him, “your turn,” 

Draco stares out at the stars through teary eyes, “My mother taught me to be smart and quick, and to always have a response,” 

“My uncle cared a whole lot for those he called family. Would go to the greatest lengths for them, even if I was never part of it,” 

“My father taught me pride. Be proud of who I am, don’t let people push me down,” 

“My cousin was curious about everything,” she laughs, “For better or for worse, he learned all he could about something -even if he never called it learning, he always wanted to go to the zoo, figure out all of the cheats in his newest game before anyone else,”  

They laugh, and Cassiopeia feels a tear slide down her cheek. Discreetly, she swipes at her face and their laughs die on the light breeze. 

She rests her hand palm up on the stone railing, “Friends?” she asks hopefully, making eye contact. 

He smiles and entangles their fingers, “Friends,” 

She grins and uses their linked hands to pull him into a hug. Draco hugs back just as fiercely and Cassiopeia buries her face in his shoulder. 

“Curfew is soon,” he whispers, “We should get back” 

—-------------

“This isn't a good idea!” Atropos hisses. 

“I remembered you being distinctly supportive of this excursion just a minute ago,” she whispers back, raising a hand and requesting Hogwarts’ aid in parting the wards to let her through. 

“At least disillusion yourself, you idiot snakeling!” 

She rolls her eyes and sweeps her wand over herself, ignoring  the disgusting feeling of an egg being cracked over her head. She gestures angrily at him, “Happy?” 

“Satisfactory,” he huffs. 

“No quail eggs for you,” she grumbles and ignores Atropos’ protests. 

She approaches the exit to the Slytherin common room, footsteps light against the cold stone. A small grinding sound echoes  around the silent room and she winces, looking around frantically, lighting a lumos on her wand. Hogwarts’ magic pushes  her towards a newly opened passage and she creeps towards the black passage, lit wand tip help infront of her. 

“Smells like…” 

“Snakes,” Cassiopeia finishes for him. 

The passage closes behind her with another grinding noise and Cassiopeia whirls around, pointing her wand at the stone. She was breathing hard, eyes wild. 

Sconces on the wall burst aflame and she glances down the empty passage. Cassiopeia drops her wand to her side and distinguishes the light. 

“Keep going!” Atropos urges, and she starts running. There’s an excitement building in her chest, some of which she thinks is coming from Hogwarts and not just her. 

She sprints down the passageway, footsteps pounding on the stone. Spurred on by Hogwarts, she takes turns without a second of thought, flying around corners and jumping over uneven stone. 

She comes to a sliding halt when Hogwarts tells her to, breathing hard. 

“We’re here,” Atropos says, nearly sounding reverent. 

“Where’s here?” she asks.

“You’ll find out later,” Atropos says excitedly. 

She frowns and exits the passageway into an open cavern. Something crunches under her foot and she recoils at the rat skeleton her boot had crushed. Cassiopeia examines the floor and finds it’s littered with the long dead skeletons of small creatures - rats and the like. She raises her wand in disgust and vanishes all of it. 

Stepping forward onto the floor now clean of rat skeletons, she inspects the cracking walls and supports. One of the pillars  has a large fissure across the middle and she thinks it might cause a cave-in if it’s not fixed. 

“Fix it,” Atropos says, nervously, “That could kill us if it breaks,” 

“I don’t know the spell,” she says desperately. 

“You haven’t know the spell for half of the things you do, yet you do them anyway!” 

“That’s different! If I fuck this up, I could bring this roof crashing down on us!” 

Atropos curls around her left hand, his head resting on the dorsum of her hand. “You’ve got this,” Atropos says. 

His confidence in her abilities makes her nervous. She raises her wand arm and points it at the fractured pillar. She might not know the spell for fixing stone like this, but she can at least use another spell as a basis. 

She recalls a passage she saw in one of the parselmagic books back at Black Castle. 

… Being a parselmouth is an inherent trait of such a wixs’ core. As such, when casting magic in parseltongue, even if they are just spells translated into parseltongue, rather than actual spells based in the language, there is a precedent for them being stronger…

She stares at the pillar and hisses, “Repairo,” She pushes her magic through the wand and out to the pillar. Fix it. She thinks, make it safe, make it strong, rebuild it to what it once was when it was strong. 

Cassiopeia’s magic lashes outwards and she stumbles backward, Atropos hissing in discontent. She squeezes her eyes shut against the harsh light that has engulfed the room. 

The light fades, and she can tell because the darkness behind her eyelids is black and no longer orange. Cassiopeia removes her hands from where she’d been cradling Atropos and opens her eyes. 

She gasps and glances around the room in shock. She’d mostly been aiming to fix the pillar for structural integrity. But along those lines, she’d also been thinking about the rest of the room. The terrible state of disrepair it’d fallen into. How maybe, just maybe, she could fix it. Cassiopeia remembers pushing her magic to return this room to its former glory, and she thinks it definitely had. 

The walls were a beautiful mosaic, the limestone columns stood proud again, and without any cracks or fissures one could clearly see their ancient Greek inspiration. A glass and crystal chandelier hung down on a chain from the ceiling, lit with large numbers of flickering candles. She steps closer to the mosaic and the heels of her boots click against the stone tile.

The mosaic was simple, just a large amount of snakes, one larger than all of the rest, guarding them with what was a crude, yellow crown above its head. Cassiopeia walks past the mural and further into the rooms. 

No amount of beauty could hide the massive snake shed lying in the corner of the room, pale white and massive. She swallows and steps past the skin into the circular mosaic tunnel leading further back. 

At the end of the tunnel is a circular door. She sees hinges on one side, but the door is held fast by 2 entwined serpents. 

‘The final entrance,” Atropos says. 

The snakes look strangely alive and it sends a shiver up her spine. The glittering emeralds making up their carved eyes watch her and she swallows nervously. Every nerve of her body was tingling unpleasantly, and her throat was dry. 

She clears her throat but yet she takes a deep breath and spoke in a low, faint hiss, “Open,” 

The serpents unraveled and the stone door split in two and slid separately into the walls with a slight hiss of released air. 

When she steps through the open hole, she stands at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber. Enormous, towering pillars entwined with carved snakes rose to hold a ceiling she couldn’t see in the dim light. The whole room was lit with an eerie, greenish glow that cast strange shadows. Everything was covered in a fine layer of algae, slime and dust. More small rodent skeletons litter the floor and dip into the small pools held at the base of the columns. 

The smell hits her at once, the pungent odor of rotting creatures and grime. Cassiopeia covers her nose with her sweater and raises her wand. 

“Scourgify” she hisses, waving her wand around the foul smelling room, and specifically aiming it at the several bundimun, a pest that looks like fungus with eyes, she had spotted. 

The fine layer of grime vanishes along with the bundimuns. The smell of the chamber drastically increases and her and Atropos breathe out twin sighs of relief. 

She drops the sweater from her nose and flicks her wand again, gathering her magic together, ”Repairo,”. 

Chunks of crumbling columns return to their spots, and shattered pieces of crystal join together again, fixing themselves to an uneven bronze chandelier that rights itself. The edges of the pools rebuild, the spilt water making the rest of the room damp returning to its pools. 

She points her wand at the candles in the chandelier to light it and the room is breathtaking in the golden light. No longer lit by the grimy green glow but instead by a warm golden one, the chamber is breathtaking. 

More limestone greek inspired columns climb to the now visible ceiling. The statue of Salazar Slytherin stands at one end, a large gaping hole in his mouth. She jogs to the other end of the chamber where the statue is and inspects it. There’s no jagged lines that suggest it’s broken, but smooth chisels that suggest it was built that way. 

“Snake mother!” Atropos announces, “Come and let us bask in your greatness!” 

“Atropos! What are you doing?!” she hisses, stepping back from the slithering sound coming from the mouth of the statue. 

“Calling her to us!” Atropos laughs, “Do not be afraid!” 

A great mass comes slithering out of the gaping mouth, and she stumbles backwards as it surrounds her. 

“Who disturbs my slumber,” the massive, green snake growls, opening its brilliant yellow eyes slowly and twisting around her, enclosing Cassiopeia into its coils. The snake opens its mouth to flick a forked tongue out and she can see fangs the length of her forearm, almost dripping with poison. 

“I-” she starts and Cassiopeia can tell the snake can see her nervousness because it’s pitch black frills puff up out of its scales. 

“Speak,” it demands. 

“My name is Cassiopeia Potter-Black, this is my-”

The basilisk cuts her off before she can finish, “You have no right to be here,” it reels back, mouth opening to bar fangs, ready to strike. 

“Wait!” Atropos shouts, but he goes unheard. 

Cassiopeia flinches away, covering her face with her arms and in a last ditch effort in fear of the quickly approaching snake she shouts, “I’m heiress Slytherin!” 

She can practically feel the snake pause and when she cautiously lowers her arms to peek at the basilisk, she nearly jumps at how close it is. Those yellow eyes are so close she can make out the veins and the flecks of different colors in the eyes. There's a milky film over the eyes that she knows isn’t the brille that protects the snake's eyes. 

“Are you now?” the basilisk flicks its tongue out again and and it moves almost impossibly closer, “Yes you are… you have Salazar’s magic on you,” 

The snake suddenly becomes much less intimidating, lowering its head to be more even with her height, rather than looming over Cassiopeia. 

‘Cassiopeia you said your name was?” When Cassiopeia nods hesitantly, the snake continues, “Salazar knew someone named Cassiopeia, I don’t remember much about her, but that she was a rather good friend” 

“You knew Salazar Slytherin?” 

“Knew him?” the basilisk laughed, “Child, he was my familiar! When they were building the school, the founders, as you call them, were all skeptical about keeping a basilisk around, so Salazar created this chamber for me, with the help of the others of course.”

“They… approved?” 

“Oh yes, Helga was very fond of me - they all were.” The snake sounded quite nostalgic, its voice tinged with sadness. 

“What is your name?” Atropos butted into their conversation and Cassiopeia flushed with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she forgot to ask its name. 

“My name is Órlaith. And what about you little snakeling?” 

“My name is Atropos, great serpent,” 

“Are you male or female?” Cassiopeia asked. 

The basilisk tilted its head to the side, “Is it not apparent? I am female,” 

Cassiopeia wasn’t entirely sure about snake anatomy so she just shrugged and sat down, leaving her back against Órlaith’s coils. 

“Tell me more about the founders,” 

She could swear the snake was smiling, “Such a curious little hatchling. Very well,” 

Cassiopeia spent as long as she could in the Chamber, talking with Atropos and Órlaith, learning about the founders, and the basilisk herself, and more about basilisk and snake anatomy than she ever thought she would know. 

—------------

“We’re exploring the castle today,” Cassiopeia said, sitting down in the empty chair at their table in the library. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, “We are?” 

“I guess we are,” Neville shrugged. 

“But,” Hermione whispered leaning forward, “What if we get caught out after curfew, we’d loose a lot of points! Or we’d get detention -”

“I didn’t say it had to be after curfew,” Cassiopeia protests. “Are you serious? All 5 of us sneaking around the castle at night?”

Daphne scoffs, blowing a piece of hair out of her face, “With Draco and Hermione bickering all the time, a mountain troll would be quieter than us,”

Draco looked at Daphne with an open mouthed gaping expression.

“We do not bicker!” Hermione protested.

“Yes you do,” Cassiopeia and Neville said in unison.

“What does exploring the castle even include? ‘Neville asked, skeptically.

Cassiopeia shrugged, “I don’t know. Wandering around the floors and places that people don’t go, looking for secrets,”

Hermione frowned, fingering the page of her book, “It’s not like it’s against the rules,” Daphne said. “Should we go now?”

Cassiopeia stood up quickly, followed by the rest of her friends, and finally Hermione, who sighed and closed her book, slipping it into her satchel.

“Alright,” Hermione said.

Cassiopeia nearly cheered, skipping out of the library, closely followed by her friends.

—---------------------

They’d been wandering around the castle for nearly a hour and a half, and so far they’d found, several other furnished halls, a smaller, albeit dusty library, a room full with a truly overwhelming amount of instruments, including a beautiful grand piano, a clock tower, bell tower, a circular chamber with several offshooting calls continuing portraits of the majority of teachers at hogwarts, sorted into the subject they taught, a classroom they decided must have been used to teach alchemy, and a painting that upon further inspection revealed the kitchens.

The kitchens then proved to be an amazing endeavor, because immediately after opening the painting, they were accosted by house elves acting if they needed anything. To which, Cassiopeia immediately responded with her broken and probably terrible Rááswisian.

The house elves had stared at her the entire time they were there, to the point where she was mildly uncomfortable, and they had subsequently left.

This led to where they currently were now, wandering around on a floor they’d lost track of, testing a door that had an awful lot of magic on it.

“I don’t know if we’re on the 2nd or 3rd floor,” Hermione muttered, playing with her jeans, “What if we end up on the 3rd floor corridor?”

“Then I guess we’ll figure out why it’s forbidden,” Cassiopeai shrugs, "Alohomora,” the door makes a quiet clicking noise and she steps forward into the room, her friends following behind her and closing the door.

She freezes, and they bump into her, and Neville makes a small oomph noise.

“What is it?” Hermione asks from the back, trying to peer over all of them from her short frame.

“Cerberus!” Draco squeaks and they all scramble backwards toward the door.

“It’s locked!” Hermione cries, tugging on the door frantically. Hermione reaches for her wand with shaking hands.

A loud and low growl rumbles from behind them, shaking Cassiopeia’s very bones.

“Music,” Daphne says, sounding desperate, “It can calm it! Someone sing!”

Cassiopeia scrambles for any melody she can think of in the moment, but she comes up empty.

They’re all looking around rather hopelessly, and Neville looks about ready to pass out in fright. The beast, the cerberus is looming over them, slobber dripping in silvery, thick ropes, falling from all 3 of its mouths, a fierce snarl marring its features. All six of its eyes were fixated on them, looking mad.

The cerberus opens its mouth, and just as Cassiopeia’s about to scream, Draco opens his mouth and starts singing.

“Bonne nuit, cher trésor,” Draco starts hesitantly before he glances at the rest of them, pausing. The cerberus pauses too, staring at him and blinking slowly, all 6 of its eyes and 3 of its heads all focused in one place. Cassiopeia urges him onward with an urgent wave of her hand, eyeing the cerberus nervously.

“Ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, Au creux de ton oreiller.”

The cerberus sits on its hindquarters and continues to stare only at Draco. Its eyelids are drooping, and one of its mammoth mouths opens in a yawn. Behind her, she hears Hermione let out a small gasp, but she pays it no mind in the tense situation.

“Un beau rêve passera, Et tu l’attraperas. Un beau rêve passera, Et tu le retiendras.”

The cerberus rests 2 of its heads on its paws, and the 3rd, center head rests on top, like the words most demented stacking pyramid.

“Autres paroles : Le soleil endormi Déjà tombe la nuit Et la lune douce luit Endors-toi mon beau petit Tous les anges du ciel”

The bottom left head is asleep, and the other bottom head is close behind. Its eyelids droop and there’s a small (in relation to the cerberus) trail of drool dripping from one of its mouths.

“Ceilleront sur son sommeil Tes rêves au goût de miel Entreront dans un beau soleil Les oiseaux vont sans bruit Se blottir au creux du nid Même la pluie dans la nuit”

The top head yawns, before resting its jaw on top of the heads of the other 2. It’s eyes slipping closed.

“Ne réveille pas les petits Rêve bel enfant, Dors dans le vent Insouciant va bel enfant,” Draco finishes as the massive Cerberus drifts off into slumber.

The all breathe a collective sigh of relief, tension released from their shoulders.

“Look,” Hermione says, pointing down at the cerberus's feet, “It’s a trap door,”

They all approach slowly, edging their way around the giant paws on the beast to the trap door. Hermione and Neville leas down to push the paw cover the trap door over and they all stare at the heavy brass ring set into the innocuous, square trap door.

“We should see what's down there,” Hermione comments, already reaching for the brass ring.

“Are you bloody insane?” Draco bursts, still looking terrified from the cerberus.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Daphne says idly, softly petting one of the cerberus’s massive faces. She shrugs when they all give her a look, “What? I think it would be wise to see what he's guarding,”

“He?” Cassiopeia asks incredulously.

“Yes?” Daphne says slowly, tilting her head, “The cerberus is indeed male,”

Neville’s face is pale, but at her nod, he takes hold of the heavy brass ring and swings the trap door open. There’s nothing but a black depth, a faint writhing sound emanating from the hole. It’s dank and the cold air from the room below seeps into the room.

“You don’t think it’s an oubliette do you?” Hermione asks, slowly stepping away from the trap door, biting on her nails.

Cassiopeia frowns, “I don’t know that Hogwarts would have one,” She purses her lips and lights her wand with a lumos, sticking it through the trapdoor, holding a tight grip on her wand so it doesn’t drop.

She’s half expecting Hermione’s theory to be true and to see bone white skeletons, but instead she’s met with a slowly writhing mass of vines.

She lowers her wand further into the room and furrows her brows, “Is that…”

“Devil’s snare?” Neville finishes, sounding incredulous.

Above them there was a faint low growling. Cassiopeia freezes, slowly tilting her head up to look at the cerberus above them.

“Shit,” she whispers, slamming the trap door closed and scrambling back, her friends stumbling away from the cerberus.

They rush towards the door, Cassiopeia pointing her wand at the door and shouting, “Alohomora!” The lock clicks open and the 5 of them sprint out of the room, the cerberus snapping at their heels.

The door closes with a bang and she leans against the door, panting. She pushes the loose strands of hair out of her face, taking the time to slow her breathing and the rapid beating of her heart to a normal level.

Hermione paces back and forth in front of them, tugging at loose strands of curls, “What was it guarding?” She mutters, “Obviously not just devil’s snare. Maybe a set of traps for something?”

“Hermione,” Cassiopeia says, trying to catch her friend’s attention.

“Maybe we should go back in. We’d have to have someone constantly singing or playing music to get the cerberus to sleep,”

“Hermione!” She says, more demanding this time.

Hermione’s head snaps upwards towards her, “We need to plan and figure this out first,”

“She’s right,” Draco says, nodding, “We can’t just charge in like a bunch of Gryffs,”

Hermione and Neville both make a face at him.

Daphne frowns, continuing to stare at the door, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“I’ll talk to Hagrid,” Cassiopeia continues, “If anyone knows anything about the cerberus it’ll be him,”

Daphne nods, and turns to face the rest of the group, “We’ll look more into this, then decide what to do. This is obviously the 3rd floor corridor, so we aren’t even supposed to be here. We need to get somewhere we won’t get in trouble and then we’ll plan further,”

Chapter Text

She points at a mass of stars on the picture, “Leo!” she exclaims.

Papa laughs, “That’s right Little Star! My little smart girl, and which one’s me?”

Cassiopeia chews on her lip, staring at the star picture, “That!” She shouts after deliberation.

Papa picks her up and they spin, and she giggles uncontrollably. They dance into the kitchen, Papa peppering her face with kisses all the while. He sets her on the counter next to Mum, who is sitting and working on her magic papers.

“Mama!” She shouts happily, “Up! Up! Up!”

Mum laughs, bright and joyful, scooping Cassiopeia into her arms. “Let’s go see what Dad’s doing,” Mum whispers to her, grinning.

Mum sidles up to Dad, who’s standing at the stove, stirring a pot. Cassiopeia leaves forward in mum’s arms, looking at what Dad is making.

“Ooooh,” Cassiopeia says, staring at the food and grabbing a piece of mum’s long bright red hair to chew on.

“Cass!” Mum complains, “What have we said about eating Mum’s hair?”

Cassiopeia pouts, crossing her arms and releasing Mum’s pretty hair, “Not for Cassiopeia,”

Mum gives her the disappointed look, and Cassiopeia tries her best to do the puppy dog eyes Uncle Padfoot taught her.

Mum’s face crumbles and she sighs, “Padfoot taught you that didn’t he,”

“What did my brother do now?” Papa asks, resting his chin on Mum’s shoulder.

“Taught our daughter puppy dog eyes,” Mum says, leaning her head backwards.

“Oh she’s going to be an excellent marauder someday!” Dad shouts, stealing Cassiopeia out of Mum’s arms, spinning her around and tickling her sides. She shrieked with laughter, wiggling out of her Dad’s arms and running to their cat.

“Polly, help!” She cries, pretending to faint behind the cat. The fluffy orange cat whacks her on the head with a paw and Cassiopeia scowls, pouting and crossing her arms at the cat.

“Papa, save me!”

Papa laughs, “Ah yes!” He calls dramatically, “I shall save you from this mighty orange beast!” He walks forward, picking up the cat, “Come on Polonium, you know better than to hit people,”

“Dinner’s ready!” Dad calls.

“Cassiopeia come help set the table,” Mum shouts.

“I come!” She hollers, running off into the house, closely followed by her Papa, still carrying the cat.

—-------------

Cassiopeia threw off the covers, sitting up and resting her feet on the cold, stone floor breathing hard. She put her face in her hands, controlling her breath rate to turn it back to normal.

Daphne and Pansy were still asleep in the beds, chests rising up and down slowly in time with their breaths. The water outside of the window was pitch black, an inky expanse of nothingness.

She ran a hand through her hair, damp from sweat. While not quite a nightmare - dreams like those were becoming far and far more common. The smells, the taste of food, her parents, the sounds, it all felt so real. She pulled out her journal, flipping to the newest page, dating it and writing down the dream. After the first couple, she started doing this to remember them.

She was starting to suspect that these weren’t just dreams, they were memories. She waved a hand at her hair, lifting it into a ponytail to keep it off of her sweaty neck. She scrubbed her face with her hands, sitting on her mattress and slumping against the stone wall.

“Were you dreaming again?”

Cassiopeia removes her face from her hands, spotting Atropos weaving around her covers towards her.

“Yeah,” She whispered, “It felt so real this time,”

“You say that every time,” Atropos said, sounding exasperated.

“I know, but it gets more really every night,” She pauses and whispers, so quiet she’s not even sure if Atropos heard her, “Sometimes I don’t think I want to wake up,”

“You find being a baby enjoyable?” Atropos asks, sounding disbelieving.

Cassiopeia huffs, “No. Yes? I don’t know, but… even being a kid it’s the only way I know my parents. I’ll never see them again. Never meet them, they’ll never see me get married, have kids, graduate hogwarts, get my OWLs, declare -” She cuts herself off, staring at her hands,

“I barely knew them,” She whispers.

Atropos is silent for a long moment, “Maybe, but what does that have to do about your feelings about this?”

Cassiopeia’s eye’s slide over to him and she purses her lips, “Am I really allowed to mourn them if I never knew them,”

Atropos makes an offended face she didn’t know would work on a snake, “Of course you are allowed to mourn, they are still your parents, child. Maybe these dreams - or memories, whatever they be, are a way of remembering them by. A boon granted by Lady Magic to see how much they truly loved you,”

Cassiopeia sighs, her head hitting the wall softly, staring at the ceiling, eyes empty, “Maybe,” she whispers.

—---------------

Cassiopeia goes down to visit Hagrid the next day. She makes sure to pick a time where everyone else is busy, and then she leaves, jogging down to the hut. She pulls her black cloak closer around her, grateful for it in the chill of late October.

She steps up to Hagrid’s door, smoke puffing out of the chimney, and raps on the door. He opens the door and glances down at her, breaking out into a smile, his eyes crinkling He’s wearing a bright pink apron that says kiss the cook on it and his beard is better trimmed than it was the last she’d seen him, and he’s braided the ends to make it neater.

“Come in Cassiopeia! Come in!” He ushers through the door, glancing behind her, “It’s cold outside, innit? No friends today?”

She shakes her no, “They were busy,” Cassiopeia smiles as she swings the cloak off from her shoulders and hangs it up on the coat hook.

There’s a fire in the fireplace, crackling away merrily and she basks in the warmth.

“Tea?” Hagrid asks, and she nods, sitting down on the beaten down wingback chairs stationed around the fire.

He sets a chipped mug of her favorite herbal blend on the coffee table in front of her. She wraps her fingers around the warm mug, watching Hagrid bustle around the kitchen.

“Are you excited for Samhain,” He asks, a knowing smile on his face as he unwraps a loaf of bread from its linen cloth.

“I’m so excited I can barely sit still,” She nearly exclaims, gesturing wildly with one of her hands sloshing her tea and nearly spilling it everywhere. Hagrid laughs and she smiles sheepishly, curling her fingers steadily around the mug again. “Hermione still hasn’t decided if she wants to go or not, but I think Neville is planning to because it’s the new year, but everyone else is going to participate in the circle,”

He sets a plate with warm slices of rosemary garlic bread down on the coffee table, followed by the crock of butter. He sits down in the large chair opposite of her with his own plate.

“Is the recipe I sent you last week?” She asks, savoring the delicious taste of the bread.

“Do yer like it?” He asks eagerly, leaning forward, breaking apart a piece of his own bread.

She nods, “It’s delicious!”

“So,” He asks, after he finished chewing, “Have yer done anything interesting as of late?”

She pauses, wondering when to ask about the cerberus. “Classes are boring as always,”

Hagrid snorts, “That’s what happens when you read ahead,” he jokes and she playfully glares at him.

She takes a sip of tea before she continues, “Snape is-,”

“Professor Snape,” He reminds blithely.

She rolls her eyes, scowling, “You know I’ll never call him that! He barely even deserves the title of teacher, let alone professor. Oh Princess Potter! Raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, too good for us common folk, write a 12 inch long paper on the modifications!” She mocks.

Hagrid raises his eyebrows, “Merlin, he’s gotten worse since you last mentioned him,”

“Anyways, he’s making write whole papers on every modification I make and why,” She continues before Hagrid can interrupt, “I know why he makes me do it, to make sure I understand what I’m doing, but it’s obnoxious how long they have to be, and he criticises every little thing I do!”

Hagrid is staring at her and she breathes out a sigh, “Enough of that. I went exploring the castle with some of my friends last Saturday,”

“Yes?” Hagrid asks, shifting in his seat, eyes flicking around the hut.

“Nothing much,” Cassiopeia says, lax in her wingback chair and with sharp eyes, “Just a large portrait hall, the kitchens, a music classroom and a room with a very strange animal to be keeping in the castle,”

Hagrid purses her lips and she goes on, “A rather dangerous, XXXX class creature-”

“Fluffy would never hurt anyone!”

“Fluffy tried to eat my friends and I,” she says flatly.

“That room is locked anyway,” He groused, “You shouldn’t be in there,”

“Maybe not,” She shrugged, “Doesn’t stop the fact that children are curious and this beast is in a school,”

“Fluffy’s here for a reason, he’s got guard that stone,-”

Cassiopeia sat forward, setting down her tea, “What stone?”

Hagrid freezes and purses his lips, “Stone? What stone?”

She narrows her eyes, “You’re lying, We know it’s guarding something, it’s a stone, what stone? Why would someone need to guard a stone?” She mutters, standing and paces back and forth.

“That’s none of your business,” He bites, “That’s business between the Headmaster and Nicholas Flamel,”

“Nicholas Flamel?” She asks, turning to face him, biting on a nail, “I know that name. Where do I know that name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hagrid says sharply, his accent getting thicker, “You’re 11, this isn’t business you’re supposed to be looking into,”

She frowns, she’s not ready to give this up, but at she got some information. “Alright,” She sighs, guilt churning in her gut, “I’ll give it up,”

Hagrid looks surprised and suspicious, “You will?”

She swallows, “Yes, I won’t look into it,”

Hagrid sighs, and she sits down again. He continues the conversation, talking about the unicorns, but it feels empty and stilted after the argument and when Cassiopeia leaves she’s colder than before.

—--------------

Cassiopeia tells her friends about the conversation, but however the name Nicholas Flamel sounds to them, none of them can think of anything. She leaves them again quickly.

She needs to clear her head from the argument with Hagrid. The guilt of lying to him about her plans of investigating the stone and Nicholas Flammel further weighs on her. Hagrid’s been one of the only adults she’s trusted, one of the first she’s allowed to truly see her. The only other two who come close are Srassa and Gornuk and she doesn’t talk to them very often simply because of the distance.

Lying to him makes her feel wrong, and using his loose lips and phrasing her questions carefully so he would give her as much information as possible makes her feel dirty. She’s manipulated a friend, someone she’s supposed to be truthful towards.

Cassiopeia’s been walking without a destination, and she blinks to find herself outside of the door of the portrait hall, the one with all of the teachers. She opens the door quietly, closing it behind her with a click.

The wings are labeled with a gold plaque of the subject, but everything has a faint film of dust over it, and she assumes that this part of the castle doesn’t get much use. Why were all of these teachers, and such a large amount of knowledge abandoned like this?

There’s whole wings of teachers for subjects Hogwarts doesn’t offer anymore, alchemy, warding, medicines, spellcrafting, ceremonial magic, elemental, fiber magic and enchanting. She turns in a slow circle, staring at the plaques, trying to decide which wings to wander down.

The door creaks open and she snaps towards the doorway seeing nothing. She hears something and glances down.

“Atropos!” She hisses excitedly, scooping him up,

“Hello Speaker,” He says, sounding rather annoyed, “It took me an unacceptable amount of time to find you,”

She smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, I was visiting Hagrid,”

Atropos grumbles before he says, “What are you even doing?”

“I’m going to talk to the old teachers, which branch of magic should I do first?” She asks, turning so he can see all the options from he’s curled in her arms.

He makes a considering noise, “I cannot read you’re human language,”

She laughs and points out each of the wings and what type of magic they are.

“That one,” Atropos says, pointing his tail towards the alchemy wing. She nods in assent and she wanders down the hallway, glancing at some of the sleeping portraits, and the others that aren’t paying attention to her.

“Child,” One of the portraits calls, “Who are you? We’ve not received visitors in… years I would say, we had nearly reached the conclusion the school was closed,”

She turns to face the portrait and curtseys quickly, “I’m Heiress Cassiopeia Potter-Black,” she says, and after a moment of hesitation, adds, “And this is my familiar Atropos,”

The portrait’s blond eyebrow’s raise. He’s poised with his chin resting elegantly on his palm, legs crossed and in a dark blue floral patterned waistcoat, a gold pocket watch tucked in his gray slacks, his dark robe thrown over the back of the chair and embroidered with gold patterns. His blonde hair is styled to perfection, but not quite platinum like the Malfoy’s. His blue eyes are piercing even in his surprise and she feels slightly insignificant at the face of him.

“Merry meet, I’m Iquill Rosier,” He says, “I would kiss your hand, but I’m rather afraid my current state of being a painting stops that from happening,”

She doesn’t know if she should laugh at that or not, so she settles for a half-hearted chuckle.

“Well child? You obviously have questions, and I do hope they're about alchemy,” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. She scrambles to answer him.

“I don’t know if I have any specific questions, rather just an interest in the subject,” She rambles, “You see-, alchemy isn't offered at Hogwarts anymore, but it seems rather interesting-”

“Not taught?” Iquill Rosier looks shocked, “Alchemy. Not taught? Child, what year is it?”

“Er-, 1991?”

Iquill Rosier goes pale, “It’s been nearly 100 years since someone has last talked to us,” He sounds faint, “I died in 1862, I’ve been here a long time, but to think… By magic… 100 years…”

“Atropos what do I do?” She whispers to him out of the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t know, he’s a human! I don’t know anything about humans, let alone ones from the 1860s!”

Iquill Rosier’s eyes sharpen and he sits forward, “Is that parseltongue child?”

She glances at him nervously, “Yes,”

“Such a gift,” he raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I’ll start with the basics I gave to my first year class, alchemy is transformation, maturation and purification of materials and the soul. It’s very spiritual but also scientific in nature, and many students aren’t cut out for it. Turning one material into another, and along the way philosophy and becoming a better person,”

Cassiopeia hums, “Like chemical science?”

Iquill Rosier nods, “In a sense it can be compared to the muggle chemical science, however with the added understanding of magic, we can do far more. We work closely with those in medicine, enchanting, wand crafters and several others to craft new things for them,”

“People say alchemy turns lead into gold, has anyone ever achieved it?”

He sits back in his seat, “One, Nicholas Flammel created the Philosopher's stone, showed enough to prove that it works and then cut off contact from most of the world to live in peace with his wife. To the best of my knowledge, he is the only one to be able to achieve such a deed,”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widen and she stumbles backwards, turning on her heel and sprinting out of the hall, “Thank you!” She calls over her shoulder, ignoring the surprised sputtering behind her.

She practically flies down the hallway, Atropos cursing her all the way, and thankfully avoiding the majority of students, only slowing down when she reaches the library, she slows down to fix her appearance and to find her friends, still studying in the library.

Cassiopeia rushes up to them and slams her palms down on the table, scarring all of them, “Nicholas Flammel!” She whispers.

“Cassiopeia what?” Hermione asks, bewildered, “We still don’t know who he is,”

“He’s an alchemist,” Cassiopeai says urgently, sliding into her vacated seat from earlier.

“That’s right!” Draco says head snapping up, “The one who invented the Philosopher's stone!”

Cassiopeia nods eagerly and Daphne twines a strand of blonde hair around her finger carefully, “So the Cerberus - Fluffy you said his name was?” Daphne pauses, eyes flicking to Cassiopeia, and when she nods continues on, “Is guarding the Philosopher's Stone? Forgive me if I’m skeptical, but why would the stone be in a school?”

Neville frowns, “Daphne’s right, why would it be in a school?”

“What else would the cerber- Fluffy, be guarding?” Hermione asks, waving a hand, “There can’t be many stones that also happen to involve Flamel and Professor Dumbledore at the same time,”

“It probably is, but I don’t want it to be the Philosopher's stone,” Daphne sighs, “Having the stone here is dangerous. Do you know how many people have tried to steal that over the years?”

“We’ll just have to leave it,” Neville says, biting his lip, “At least until someone looks like they’re going to try and steal it,”

—---------------

When she wakes up, it hits her like a sack of bricks. Today might be Samahin, but it’s also the anniversary of her parents' deaths. She feels their absence like a physical presence. Now that she knows what happened, now that she remembers in more and more clarity the events on that Samhain in 1981, and even snippets of her childhood beforehand.

Her dad’s laugh, loud and boisterous, her mother’s smile wide and brilliant - she had dimples, and her papa’s smell, mint and wood.

Atropos curls next to her in her bed and she pulls him closely, grief weighing heavy.

—---------------

Hermione’s missing.

She disappeared after the end of charms, running away from a nasty comment from Weasley that Cassiopeia didn’t hear, and Hermione hasn't been seen sense.

Cassiopeia’s getting jumpy. With Samhain tonight, the excitement of the ritual, the grief of her parents and her worry for one of her best friends are all clashing in her. She finally gives into looking for her after lunch. Her friends had urged her to give Hermione space, but now she’s been gone for 2 hours and she’s too concerned to stay still any longer.

She’s wandering the halls looking for Hermione, checking the bathroom and empty classroom where she finally finds her.

Cassiopeia knocks on the only locked stall, and she can hear the sobs coming from behind it. “Hermione?” She asks hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

“Go away!” Hermione sobs.

Cassiopeia winces at her lack of tact. “Sorry, it’s just… I’m worried. I didn’t hear what Weasley said, but it had to have been bad for you to be crying in here,”

Hermione sniffles, “He-” she hiccups, “He said that- That ‘I bet all of her friends are just faking it for her answers,’,”

“Oh Hermione,” Cassiopeia says, here heart breaking for Hermione.

“The only thing is -is,” Hermione sobs, “That’s what it should be right? I’m the smart one, that’s what people did in- in primary,”

“Hermione-”

“No, but you guys are different and it’s weird, you don’t need me for answers, you’re smart enough on your own, so why are you even bothering with me! I’m obnoxious! I’m a teacher's pet, I can’t help but correct everything. I’m insufferable!”

“Hermione! You’re not obnoxious and you’re definitely not insufferable!”

“Really?” Hermione asks, voice small.

“Yes! Really!” Cassiopeia says earnestly, “You’re one of my best friends, and yes you can’t help but correct everything, and maybe you’re a bit of a teacher’s pet,” Cassiopeia pauses and Hermione lets out another sob before she rushes forward, “But that’s not a bad thing! Just because we don’t need you doesn’t mean we don’t want you. Your a great friend, and even if we argue, you’re still ride-or-die,”

Hermione unlocks the stall door, standing in front of her, wiping the snot from her nose, “You really mean that?”

“I really do,”

Hermione sobs before she darts forward and wraps her arms around Cassiopeia. She holds on tight to Hermione, letting the girl hang onto her.

“Everyone else feels the same,” Cassiopeia whispers into Hermione’s ear, “You’re our friend Hermione, we don’t need you, we want you,”

Hermione clings on tighter, “I’m coming to the Samhain celebration,” she whispers and Cassiopeia grins.

—--------------

Cassiopeia’s glad she found Hermione when she did, because they’d barely had enough time to get dressed in their formal school uniform, laying their Samhain outfits out on their bed so they have as much time as possible to get ready.

They rush down to the feast together, hand in hand, merging into the student body standing outside the great hall, and only separating when going to their house tables.

The great hall is wonderfully decorated, floating carved pumpkins joining

She slips in between Draco and Daphne right before they sit down at the Slytherin table.

“Did you find her?” Draco asks, leaning over to ask her quietly and Cassiopeia nods.

She’s stopped from speaking further when Dumbledore stands, clinking his knife against his glass. “Attention students! Attention!”

She ignores how much he irks her and tries to focus on his speech, “Students! I welcome you to another great year of our annual Halloween feast! We thank Rubeus Hagrid, our games keeps for carving and supplying the pumpkins. And now with our thanks out of the way, may the feast begin!” Dumbledore waved his arm and food appeared across the tables.

Just as people start reaching for their food, Quirell bangs the doors open and rushes in towards the staff table and shouts at Dumbledore, “Troll! In the Dungeon!” He screams, “Thought you ought to know,” he adds on before he slumps to the side, unconscious.

The whole great hall erupts into chaos, shouting and screaming over another and rushing for the doors.

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore booms, his wand pointed at his throat, amplifying his voice. “You will go quietly back your dorms, prefects, lead the way,”

The students start to shuffle when Cassiopeia whispers, “Wait, this isn’t right,”

“We have a common room in the dungeons,” Daphne says quietly, looking terrified.

“The Hufflepuffs do too,” Draco says, skin ghostly white.

“Professor Dumbledore!” She shouts across the great hall. She catches the briefest of expressions of annoyance cross his face before he turns to face her

“My girl, this is a trying time we must-”

“Two of the houses have common rooms in the dungeon, where the troll supposedly is,” She says quickly, trying to get her point across, “And if you send us out, someone might get lost and run int othe troll, it would be safer to keep us all here,”

Dumbeldore frowns, “Alright, he says,” he points his wand at his throat again and says, “All students stay in the great hall, the professors will search the castle for the troll, and someone, wake Professor Quirell up,”

The professors all rush out of the hall together. One of the professors, who she doesn’t know, shoots a spell at Quirrell and he jolts upwards and he runs after them too.

They wait in the hall for what seems like ages, and most people decide just to eat without the professors, Slytheirn house being one of them. They have rituals to do tonight, most of which require a lot of magic and energy to participate in.

When the teachers finally return, Snape is limping. She eyes the leg, and just barely catches a glimpse of bite marks. She elbows Draco, “Did you see that?” she whispers.

“See what?” Draco whispers back.

“Snape’s got a limp, and a bite mark. I think he’s trying to steal the Philosopher's stone,”

—---------------

They’re forced to put their suspicions of Snape aside until tomorrow so they can focus on Samhain. They retrieve Hermione and Neville, along with the same people she did the last circle with, minus the Hufflepuff that joined them last time, although Millicent doesn’t seem too upset about it.

They troop out to the grounds among groups of other students, finding an empty patch away from the other groups. From what Cassiopeia has heard, they were the most diverse of groups with magic types, most people sticking to circles with their own core types. She admits, she was surprised when she heard that, considering how outnumbered the light and gray cores were in their group. Seven dark cores and two gray and two light cores.

However, she’d been told circles with more balance of all of the cores tended to me brighter and more… well, it’d been described as explosive in nature. The other groups seemed to edge around them, sticking to their own circles and giving their ritual space a wide berth.

“It’s the same thing as Mabon right?” Hermione whispers into her ear.

“Yes, Hermione,” Cassiopeia says, rolling her eyes, “I told you this, several times, and I helped you pick out a rite,”

“I know,” Hermione says quietly, “I’m just- just nervous,”

Cassiopeia links their hands together and squeezes, smiling at her, before dropping their hands to pull out her wand. She turns to face the rest of the group, walking backwards, “We don’t have an upper year this time, so we have to decide who’s leading our circle this year,”

“Usually it’s the oldest,” Draco says before trailing off, glancing over at Hermione.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione refuses vehemently, shaking her head quickly.

They stop in a large clearing on the grounds, the grass dry whispering around their ankles. There’s a large tree off a bit to the side, gnarled and old with age, leaning heavily towards one side as if slumped over. The leaves rustle in the wind, several of them lifting off of the branches into the inky sky.

“If the oldest does not wish to lead, the elected leader of the year or group usually does,” Theodore says.

All eyes of the group turn to her, and she blinks in surprise before smoothing her expression.

Her heart beats wildly and she swallows. “Er,” she starts before clearing her throat, putting her shoulders back with confidence she doesn’t feel, “Sure I can lead,”

There aren’t any protests, and surprisingly, even Pansy Parkison seems begrudgingly compliant. They all align in a circle, setting their wands at the same angle from the Mabon ritual.

Cassiopeia takes a deep breath, and raises her hands to the star speckled sky, “As the elected leader among us, I open this circle,” As soon as she utters the words, the magic snaps forward like a cord pulled. It’s different than being part of the circle, an almost intoxicating act already, the feeling of opening this circle makes her heady.

Together they turn to the right and step forward, following the invisible circle line, wands pointed down, “We call down magic to manifest among us,” they call as one, “Protect us and guide us,”

“Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis, Una cum nobis,” They repeat it seven times, walking slowly around the edge of the circle, finally returning to their original places. Cassiopeia steps forward, mentally preparing herself for this part of the ritual.

“Samhain is of release and renewal, the new year, a time of beginnings and ends,” She reaches a hands forward, towards the center of the circle, “We honor Lord Death on the day the veil is the thinnest, We revere Lady Magic in all things and laud our eight. I, Cassiopeia Lily Potter-Black, open this circle,” In the center of their circle, a bonfire roars to life, easily twice Cassiopeia’s own height, immediately warming the cold night air.

“You will be called forward to perform your rite one by one, and you will contribute your magic to the fire of our magic. Starting with Daphne Greengrass,”

The rest of the ritual moves fast, the magic is intoxicating and it makes it both hard and easy to focus. Most of them do a rite to help with the upcoming school year, but their are some outliers. Gregory Goyle does a ritual to commune with the spirits of his ancestors and he asks that they protect his sister, his ritual is modified too, addressing on a sigular God, rather than the multiple that several other people use. Theodore pulls out a bag of rune stones out to use a focus, and a spector appears in front of him for mere moments, cupping his cheek before the white figure flickers away and he steps back, eyes wet.

Finally, it is her turn. Cassiopeia steps forward, taking a deep breath before she begins her ritual. “I call forth my family, my ancestors, the past bearers of rings, to present those who wish to help on my journey in this family. I call forth those who can help the most, and as many as my well of magic may sustain,” She closes the ritual with a final clap of the hands, finishing the hand movements that go along with the ritual. For a moment she thinks it hasn’t worked. The evening is silent, only the bonfire and distant sounds of the other group muffled by the magic of the circle.

She barely sees the worried faces of the people around her before everything goes fuzzy and the world fades to black.

Chapter Text

She comes to a dark expanse, lying on an invisible soft ground. Cassiopeia scrubs at her face, dislodging her glasses and sitting up.

Two figures come into focus kneeling in front of her, a woman with dark red hair and familiar green eyes, and a man with dark skin, only a little darker than the warm brown of her own, rectangular glasses and dark, windswept hair.

“Oh you're awake,” The woman cries, cupping Cassiopeia’s face in her hands.

She stares at them, the familiarity of these people tugging on the back of her mind. When she finally puts the pieces together she startles, “Mum? Dad?”

“Hi mischief,” Her dad says, eyes crinkling in a smile, just like the photos. The photos where she knew them from.

How fucked up was that? That she could only recognize her parents from their photos and distant memories?

“I -” She glances at her hands, turning them over, “Did the ritual work? Why am I here?”

“The ritual worked sweetheart,” Her mum says, releasing her face, and holding Cassiopeia’s hands together soothingly.

“We’re so proud of you,” Her dad says, pulling her into a hug. He smells like rain, freshly overturned dirt and a woodsy cologne. She buries her face in his shoulder and tries not to cry when he just holds her tighter.

He does let go until she pulls back, and even then she leans against him, his body somehow warm.

“Oh how you’ve grown,” Her mother is in front of her, hands back to cupping Cassiopeia’s face ‘We’ve missed so much,”

“Your core detection rite went so well, we’re so happy for you,” Mum continues.

“Our daughter! Such a powerful dark witch,” Dad exclaims dramatically, “She’ll take the world by storm!”

Cassiopeia laughs wetly, wiping away tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “You’re not mad about me being dark?” She asks hesitantly.

“Mad?” Dad asks, “Why would we be mad? My mum was a dark witch, and we married a dark wizard,”

“Your dad’s right, we couldn’t be more proud, and I’m sure Regulus would say the same thing if he were here,”

Cassiopeia furrows her brow, “Where is he?”

Mum begins to speak, looking urgent, but her sentence is blocked out by a loud ringing in her ears. When her Mum finishes speaking, the ringing stops as fast as it started.

“What?” She asks, staring at her mum.

Mum’s eyes get sad again and she frowns, “We cannot tell you, Our Lady will not let us tell you, but you’ll find out, I’m sure of it,”

Dad links hands with Mum and Mum leans so her head is resting against his neck.

The expanse starts to fade and go blurry, the shapes of her parents merging together.

“Goodbye mischief,” Dad says, “We love you,”

He pulls both of them into a hug, warm and strong.

“I don’t want to go!” She cries, holding onto her parents tighter.

“I’m so sorry flower,” Mum says, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, “We’ve already used enough of your magic for this visit. We love you,”

Her mother’s words fade to silence and the warm arms of her father around her disappear. The soft ground of the dark expanse disappears and is replaced with something cold and hard.

She groans, rolling over on the hard ground and rubbing at her eyes. She feels around for her glasses and shoves the frames onto her face, the world coming into focus.

Her friends are all staring worriedly at her, and she’s dangerously close to the fire. Cassiopeia stands, wobbling on her feet, before returning to her place in the circle. None of them had come to help her, rooted to their spots so as to not break the magic of the circle, coming to the center uninvited by the opener of the circle.

She takes a steadying breath, swiping at the lingering tears in her eyes. “A circle has no beginning and it never ends. This is our magic, and this is our strength. We honor our Lord Death this Samhain and thank him for the care of the dead. The circle ends, but Magic is with you. Prope spiro”

The magic breaks, splintering into iridescent, multicolored shards, settling on their skin and fading, snuffing out the fire in a singular gust of wind.

Immediately her friends crowd her, surrounding her and asking if she’s okay. She says what she can to get out of the conversation, not in the mood for talking.

It’s surprisingly Theodore who notices and interjects, “Leave her alone, she obviously experienced something personal. Interrogating her isn’t going to help, let us just return to the castle,” He says, voice flat and making eye contact. He sounds bored, and uninterested, but his body is tense and his eyes are glassy from held back tears and she thinks that he might have done a ritual really similar to hers.

She hesitantly nods in thanks and he responds with the barest incline of the head.

—--------------------

“Grab Daphne, and meet me in the abandoned charms classroom on this floor, we need to talk about the stone,” Cassiopeia whispers, grabbing Draco’s arm. He nods and speeds up to the front of the group where Daphne is talking with Tracey.

She lags behind to Hermione and Neville, grabbing their arms and pulling them off to the side. “We’re going to the abandoned charms classroom, we need to talk,”

“But!” Hermione protests, “Curfew is in 20 minutes,”

“Then we’ll be fast,” Cassiopeia says, assuring.

Hermione looks hesitant, glancing to the route to Gryffindor tower. She looks to Neville for help, who just shrugs at her and she sighs, “Alright, but it has to be fast,”

Cassiopeia nods and leads them sprinting down the hallway to the empty, dusty classroom.

Draco and Daphne are already there, sitting on cleaned off desks. Cassiopeia waves her wand with a Scourgify, cleaning off another 3 desks, which Cassiopeia Neville and Hermione take seats on.

“You said we needed to talk?” Daphne asks, ice blue ice curious.

“We decided the Philosopher's stone was beneath that trap door right?” She starts and they all nod, “The troll being let in the castle was a perfect distraction, all of the Professors left quickly, to different parts of the castle and Snape-”

“Professor Snape,” Hermione interjects.

“Whatever, But he came back with a bloody leg and a limp,”

“What would Uncle Sev want with the Philosopher's stone?” Draco asks, furrowing his brow.

“Unless Dumbledore sent him to make sure no one is stealing it?” Neville suggests.

“Maybe,” Daphne says, resting her chin on her hand, “Although with the traps he’s set, there must be an actual concern for theft,”

“Maybe we’re just reading into things too much,” Neville says, shaking his head. Cassiopeia frowns.

“You’re right,” She sighs, “But we have to at least keep an eye out, and prepare for the possibility,”

“Like train?” Neville asks.

“Well, whether we need it or not, it can’t hurt,” Daphne says waving a hand.

Hermione checks her watch, “Discussion over, curfews in 5 minutes, and we’re all already exhausted from Samhain,”

—---------------

In truth, getting pulled through a tapestry was honestly slightly her fault. She was enraptured in a conversation with Atropos, so when she was pulled through a tapestry, she was caught by surprise and let herself be pulled through.

“Um… Hi?” She says, looking around at two identical girls, wearing Ravenclaw and Gryffindor uniforms, respectively.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” The Ravenclaw one hisses, glaring at her… twin?

The Gryffindor elbows the Ravenclaw and smiles brightly at her, “Heiress Potter-Black,”

“I seem to be at a slight disadvantage, you know who I am, yet I don’t know you,” She could vaguely recall these girls getting sorted, but she could not for the life of her remember their names.

“Ah yes,” The Ravenclaw one step forward, shaking Cassiopeia’s hand, “Namaskārām Heiress Potter-Black, I am Padma Patel, and this is my younger sister Parvati Patel,”

“By 4 minutes,” Parvati grumbles, before she smiles again, “The reason why we wanted to talk to you is for some private tutoring,”

Cassiopeia raises an eyebrow before Padma continues, “You are at the top of our class in almost every class we have, the only exceptions being Heir Longbottom in Herbology, and Granger in Transfiguration, but Defense is neither of our best subjects, and you are very obviously the best in our class,”

“It not being one of your best subjects is possibly just the teacher being absolutely abhorrent,”

“Oh I know,” Parvati cries, “His classroom positively reeks of garlic, and you can’t pertain any information with his awful stutter!”

“It doesn’t even follow the behavior of a normal stutter,” Padma rolls her eyes, “Believe me I checked, and several other Ravenclaws with in interest in the matter said it doesn’t work like that either,”

“Stutter or not, I’d be happy to help you,” Cassiopeia says, “When are you free?”

—-------------------

As they entered November the weather turned even more frigid. The mountains surrounding the castle faded to cold, icy gray and the Black lake grew somehow even darking and cold like steel. The ground was hard and cold with frost, and when Hagrid had taken her to meet the Thestrals, he’d forced her to bundle up even further with a moleskin coat, and rabbit fur gloves than just her sweater and heavy cloak with warming charms.

The quidditch season was upon them, the first match being Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. As quidditch was one of the only times the entirety of the Slytherin house let themselves be rowdy, the entire table was buzzing with energy, and the general hierarchy that they usually sat in had been abandoned to let the quidditch plays sit in the best seats, with clumps of more artistically included students spreading banners across the table to add finishing touches.

As it’s a Saturday, they were free to do as they wish, but the majority of the school remained in Great Hall, snacking on the food that was still left on the tables, probably because of the sheer amount of students still in the Great Hall, as well as to work in groups to work on banners.

Around 11, what must’ve been the entire school trooped down to the quidditch pitch, huddling under layers for warmth. They waited a bit before the 14 players marched out of their respective changing rooms, greeted with riotess cheering. The two houses not playing had chosen their sides, Huffepuff for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw supporting Slytherin, cheering and waving banners for their chosen house.

The 2 captains shake hands, Flint and Wood if she remembers, which was a funny match up in her opinion. Madam Hooch says something to the players and all 15 of them rise into the, one of the Gryffindor chasers claiming the quaffle immediately.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is,, and rather attractive, too-”

“JORDAN!” McGonagall calls, voice clearly audible over the same announcement system Lee Jordan was using.

“And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve- back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, SLytherin Captain Marcus Flint takes the quaffle and off he goes!”

Cassiopeia watches the game, the ownership of the quaffle flopping between the chasers of each team. It was a tense match, the scores ticking up on each side, almost even. Gryffindor might’ve won too, if their seeker wasn’t so bloody terrible. He was so bad, she supposed, but compared to the Slytherin 7ht year seeker, he was like a man fumbling around in the pitch black darkness.

As such, the game easily went to Slytherin, and the pitch erupted into loud cheers coming for the Ravenclaw and Slytherin stands, pouring onto the field and lifting the Slytherin team up onto the houses shoulders and bringing them back to the common room for a party.

“If only we had some butterbeer!” A 7th year says

“Or some Ogdens!” Another one laughs.

“I can get both,” Cassiopeia says idly, taking the chance.

The first one turns to look at her incredulously, “You.” He says, “A firstie. Can get your hands on some firewhisky,”

Cassiopeai nods slowly as if he were stupid. He laughs “Alright, lets see you try,”

The two seventh years continue their walk towards the castle and she slips away to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch that she’d seen the Weasley twins go down.

“Dissendium,” She whispers, before slipping into the opening of the statue’s hump.

She runs down the dirt passage to make the journey go faster, finally emerging at Honeydukes after an indiscernible amount of time.

“Carpo!” She says quietly, followed by the small crack! Of elf apparition.

“Hows can I bes helping?” Carpo asks.

She’d found that outside elves couldn’t be called on Hogwarts grounds, and as such, the discovery of this passageway led to her being able to see, what in all rights was her family again.

“Can you get me some butterbeer and some Firewhisky? I know you have some in the wine cellar,”

Carpo twists the hem of his shirt, “Should the mistress really bes drinking firewhisky at such a young age? Especially without beings watched,”

“I’m not going to be drinking it,” Cassiopeia assures, “It’s just a chance to get in the good graces of the upper years, maybe open communications with them, even if it’s only supplying drinks for parties right now,”

“Alright,” Carpo gives in, sighing and snapping his fingers, a large crate filled with butterbeer and firewhiskey bottles and disposable cups to be used.

Cassiopeia pulls him into a tight hug and he squeaks, “Thank you Carpo!” she says, “I’ll see you later,” Grabbing the crate and hefting it into a more favorable position.

“Goodbye mistress,” Carpo says, waving as she climbs back into the secret passageway.

As soon as she enters the wards of the castle again, she flicks her wand at the crate, floating beside her and making much quicker progress through the passageway.

She casts strong notice-me-not charm on the crate and herself to keep them from being noticed and quickly arrives at the Slytheirn common room.

The party is in full swing, the players at the center of it all. She quickly tracks down the 7th years she’d been talking with earlier, dropping the notice-me-not charm in time for them to see her.

“Guess what I got,” She smirks as they gape at the clearly visibly Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey labels on the bottle.

“Oi!” One of them calls over the sound of the noise, “This here firstie got us Ogden’s Old and butterbeer!”

—-------------------------

Hermione makes a small noise of confusion and she seems to study the text with even more scrutiny, physically pulling the book closer to her eyes.

Cassiopeia continues reading, if Hermione needs help she’ll ask.

“Cassiopeia,” Hermione starts, and Cassiopeia looks up as Hermione sets down her book, turning it around to face her, and pointing at a word, “This is the first I’ve ever come across this word, have you heard it before? Perhaps it’s outdated?”

Cassiopeia frowns and looks down at where Hermione is pointing and her heart skips a beat. She purses her lips and says softly, “Draco,” He looks up and she turns the book to face him, pointing at the word.

His eyes go wide and he glances up at Hermione, “You’ve never heard it before?”

Hermione shakes her head looking nervous, biting her lip, “Is that- Is that bad?”

“It’s-” Cassiopeia starts, “It’s not… bad? That you don’t know… It’s just that, we’re surprised you haven’t heard it before,”

“It is slightly outdated,” Draco says slowly, “But not entirely so that you shouldn’t have heard it,”

“I’ve never heard it before,” Hermione says, “I can discern the meaning, but not the context. The word is simple enough to understand, but I still don’t get it,”

“Well,” Cassiopeia starts slowly, “It’s sort of got a lot of cultural context around it,”

“Really?” Hermione asks, looking surprised, “How much culture could surround a word like pyremen?”

“A lot actually,” Draco says, “It’s an older term for a muggle,”