A Message in the Dark
Chapter 4: A Message in the Dark
Harry Potter sat in his tiny cupboard, his knees pulled to his chest, staring at the thin crack of light beneath the door. The Dursleys had gone to bed, the house was quiet, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Tomorrow, he was supposed to go to Diagon Alley.
The thought still felt surreal. Hagrid—the half-giant who had come crashing into his life—had told him he was a wizard. Told him about Hogwarts. Told him about his parents.
James and Lily Potter.
His parents had been murdered by a dark wizard named Voldemort, but Harry had survived, earning a ridiculous title he didn’t even remember getting. The Boy Who Lived.
He should have been excited.
But instead, his stomach twisted with unease.
Something wasn’t right.
He had spent the past few days locked in his cupboard, allowed out only to fetch food for Dudley or clean up after his relatives. They had acted differently after Hagrid left—tense, fearful. But the way Uncle Vernon had stared at him, lips pressed in a thin line, had made Harry feel like there was something they weren’t telling him.
And then, tonight—the letter had appeared.
It hadn’t come by owl. It hadn’t been slipped under the door.
One moment, the cupboard had been empty.
The next, a folded piece of parchment had been resting on his bed.
Harry had nearly jumped out of his skin.
Heart pounding, he had snatched it up, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded it. The ink shimmered, forming words before his eyes.
Harry,
Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron before your shopping trip. I’ll explain everything. Trust me.
—Cassia Black
Harry had read it at least ten times.
Cassia Black.
He didn’t know the name.
Was this a trick?
No one had ever written to him before Hogwarts. No one had ever cared where he went, what he did. If he had gotten a letter at all, it had been a list of chores from Aunt Petunia.
And yet…
Something about the letter felt different. The way it had appeared—silent, secretive—told him whoever sent it hadn’t wanted anyone else to see. And then there was the message itself.
"I’ll explain everything."
Explain what?
And why should he trust her?
Frowning, Harry’s grip on the parchment tightened. It wasn’t just a normal letter. There was something magical about it.
Slowly, hesitantly, he traced his fingers over the empty space beneath Cassia’s name. The moment his skin touched the paper, the ink shimmered again, words appearing as if written by an invisible hand.
You can write back. Just think about what you want to say.
Harry’s breath hitched.
That wasn’t normal.
He swallowed, unsure, but curiosity burned in his chest.
Tentatively, he thought, Who are you?
The ink shifted.
Someone who cares. And someone who wants to help you.
Harry’s heart pounded. He had never met this Cassia Black before. So why would she care?
He hesitated, then wrote back.
How do I know I can trust you?
A pause. Then, the response came.
Ask me something. Something only someone who truly cares would know. I’ll prove it to you.
Harry bit his lip. He thought hard.
Then, he finally wrote:
If you really care, tell me something about my parents. Something real.
He didn’t know what answer he was expecting.
But when the ink reappeared, his breath caught.
Your mother, Lily, loved the smell of fresh parchment and the sound of the wind in the trees. She used to hum when she was deep in thought.
Your father, James, would always ruffle his hair when he was nervous. He hated the taste of pumpkin juice but drank it anyway because your mother loved it. He called you ‘Little Prongs’ before you were even old enough to walk.
Harry froze.
His fingers trembled as he read the words again.
No one had ever told him those things.
Hagrid had said his parents were good people. But not who they were. Not the little things that made them… them.
The words on the parchment—they felt real.
Harry swallowed hard, his throat tight.
He didn’t know why, but suddenly, he wanted to believe.
Finally, he wrote back.
Okay. I’ll meet you.
The ink shimmered once more before fading completely.
Harry sat in the dark, gripping the parchment, his heart racing.
For the first time in his life, someone had reached out to him. Someone who knew about his parents. Someone who claimed to care.
And tomorrow, he was going to find out who Cassia Black really was.