Chapter 9
“Ron!" Cassidy yelled as she and the others ran towards the young wizard. He lay on the ground, visibly pale and nauseous.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione asked as she kneeled down beside him, Harry and Cassidy following suit. The Gryffindor team surrounded them, faces full of concern. "Say something!" she urged. Ron got up on his knees, gagging.
"Ron?" Cassidy asked nervously.
He threw up a slimy slug, and everyone exclaimed in disgust.
"Oh, no." Cassidy turned away, fighting the urge to throw up herself. Suddenly, a bright flash appeared from behind the group. It was Colin Creevey, the first-year who'd photographed Harry earlier.
"Can you turn him around, Harry?" The blonde-haired boy asked innocently, large camera in hand.
Cassidy whipped around, eyes narrowing. "I'll turn you every way but loose if you don't step back!" she snapped, her voice dripping with irritation. She didn't wait for him to react before helping Hermione get Ron upright. Colin shrunk away, visibly rattled, and Cassidy felt a twinge of guilt.
"Let's take him to Hagrid," Harry said as the two girls stood Ron up. "He'll know what to do!"
They ran off, leaving the two teams in their wake. Draco grinned in satisfaction, watching the four students go.
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Now in Hagrid's cottage, Harry, Cassidy, and Hermione gathered around Ron, who sat hunched over on a bench. A large wooden bucket rested between his knees, and every few seconds, another slimy slug splattered into it. Cassidy perched beside him, her hand rubbing circles on his back, though her face twisted with every gag.
"Oh, Ron, you'll be alright," she murmured, her worry etched in her features. She glanced at Hermione, who was unusually quiet, her head bowed to hide the tears threatening to fall.
"Nothing to do but wait till it stops, I'm afraid," Hagrid said, settling heavily into a chair that groaned under his weight. Another slug hit the bottom of the bucket with a wet splat, and Cassidy flinched.
"Better out than in," Hagrid added kindly, though his tone was sympathetic. "Who was Ron trying to curse anyway?"
"Malfoy," Harry said, his voice sharp with anger. "He called Cassidy a blood traitor, and Hermione a...well, I don't know." He faltered, looking uncertainly at Hermione.
"That blonde arse called her a foul word—" Cassidy began, her voice rising, but Hermione suddenly stood up, her face flushed.
"Cassidy, stop. Just stop." Her voice cracked as she brushed at a tear slipping down her cheek. "He called me a Mudblood."
The room went still.
Cassidy's expression darkened, her hand pausing on Ron's shoulder. "Absolutely horrible," she muttered under her breath. Hagrid, meanwhile, looked utterly appalled.
"He did not," the half-giant whispered, his bushy eyebrows shooting up.
"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked, his confusion breaking through the heavy silence.
Hermione took a deep, shaky breath, turning toward him. "It means dirty blood," she said, her voice trembling. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who's Muggle-born. Someone with non-magical parents. Someone like me."
Cassidy opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione cut her off, her gaze flickering downward. "It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation," she mumbled bitterly.
"It's not just foul—it's bloody ridiculous," Cassidy said, her tone firm but gentle as she looked at Hermione. "My dad's a pure-blood who married a Muggle-born, and trust me, they couldn't care less about all that nonsense."
"You're absolutely right, Cassie," Hagrid said with a scoff. "The whole thing's codswallop. Dirty blood, my foot. Why, there's not a wizard alive today that's not half-blood or less!" He leaned forward, his large hands resting on his knees. "More to the point, they've yet to think of a spell our Hermione can't do."
Hermione's lips twitched upward into a small smile as Hagrid beckoned her over. "Come here," he said gently. She stepped forward, and he clasped her tiny hands in his enormous ones.
"Don't you think on it, Hermione," he said with a warm, kind smile. "Don't you think on it for one minute."
She nodded, blinking back the last of her tears. "Thanks, Hagrid."
As the tension began to ease, Ron retched again, prompting Cassidy to wrinkle her nose but not move from his side.
"Now that that's settled," she said, patting Ron's shoulder with mock patience, "hurry up and finish throwing up those slugs. I've got a Malfoy to hex."
That earned a chorus of laughter from the room, even from Hermione, and Cassidy allowed herself a small, triumphant grin.
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Cassidy Sweet wasn't bluffing.
After the slug-vomiting incident, the thought of Malfoy's smug face calling Hermione that vile name haunted her. It replayed in her head during lessons, at dinner, and as she walked to the common room. The audacity.
So, the moment she caught sight of him sauntering down a deserted corridor, alone for once, she acted without thinking.
"Levicorpus!" she hissed under her breath, wand aimed squarely at his back.
Draco yelped as he was hoisted into the air by his ankle, his robes flipping over to reveal his pale legs. Cassidy smirked, stepping out from behind a suit of armor.
"Enjoying yourself, Malfoy?" she asked, arms crossed.
"Sweet!" Draco bellowed, swinging wildly as he tried to right himself. "Let me down! My father will hear of this!"
"Apologize, now. For what you said to Hermione," Cassidy snapped, her hazel eyes blazing. "And for what you called me."
Draco's lips curled into a smirk, despite his predicament. "You think I'd ever apologize to a filthy—"
"Silencio!" Cassidy cut him off with a flick of her wand. "I'm sorry, did you say something? Oh, wait. You can't."
Draco thrashed harder, his face growing redder by the second, but Cassidy held firm.
"Here's how this works," she said, pacing slowly beneath him. "You either apologize, or I leave you up here for Filch to find. Your choice, Malfoy."
Malfoy glared daggers at her, silent but fuming.
"Cassidy Sweet!"
Cassidy's heart jumped into her throat as Argus Filch's grating voice echoed down the corridor. She spun around, her wand falling to her side as the caretaker emerged from the shadows, his eyes glittering with glee.
"Caught you red-handed, didn't I?" Filch crooned, clutching his broomstick like a prize. "Detention. Now. Oh, Professor Snape'll hear about this, you can bet your broomstick on that!"
"Oh, fiddlesticks." Cassidy grumbled.
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Later that evening, Cassidy sat cross-legged on the floor of the Trophy Room, a silver plaque in her lap and a rag in her hand. Beside her, Ron was polishing a goblet, muttering under his breath.
"This is bloody ridiculous," he grumbled, scrubbing harder. "Stupid Malfoy. Stupid Filch. Stupid trophies."
Cassidy smirked. "Stupid you for getting caught with a flying car."
Ron looked at her, his eyebrows shooting up. "You were caught too, remember that."
Cassidy raised a single eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh, really? Who got the detention slip first? I'll give you a hint: it wasn't me."
Ron opened his mouth, paused, and then laughed, his shoulders shaking. Cassidy joined in, her earlier irritation melting away for a moment.
"What'd you even do, anyway?" he asked, tossing the goblet onto the pile of polished trophies.
"I hexed Malfoy," Cassidy said casually, as if it were nothing more than sneezing.
Ron froze, staring at her. "You're joking."
"Nope," Cassidy said, popping the "p" for emphasis. She glanced at him. "You'd have loved it. Hoisted him up by his ankle, legs kicking everywhere. It was glorious."
Ron's jaw dropped. "That's brilliant."
"I know," Cassidy replied, grinning smugly. Then she sighed. "Didn't last long, though. Filch ruined all the fun."
"Of course he did," Ron muttered darkly. He leaned closer, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. "But really—how long was Malfoy up there?"
"Long enough for me to tell him exactly what I thought of him," Cassidy said, unable to stop herself from grinning at the memory. "The look on his face, Ron. It was priceless."
Ron burst into laughter, his bright smile making Cassidy chuckle in return. But as the laughter died down, Cassidy's fingers brushed against the chain of her necklace.
It was warm.
Not the comforting, faint warmth it usually gave off. This was... different. Stronger. She adjusted the chain, but the heat didn't fade.
"You alright?" Ron asked, noticing her shift uncomfortably.
Cassidy hesitated. "Yeah, I think so. It's just..." She glanced down at the necklace. "It's my necklace. It just warmed up."
Ron frowned, leaning closer. "What do you reckon it means?"
"I don't know." Cassidy's voice dropped to a murmur as she rubbed her thumb over the pendant. "But it's not normal. There's no magical artifact around, no danger...right?"
"Well," Ron said, leaning back, "if it starts burning, maybe then we'll worry."
Cassidy laughed softly, but the unease lingered. The warmth of the necklace felt... deliberate.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her chest.
"Ugh!" Cassidy gasped, clutching at her heart as if to stop the sudden pressure. Ron immediately dropped the goblet he'd been polishing and rushed to her side, hands on her shoulders, his voice trembling with panic.
"Cass! Cass, are you alright? Do I need to get the—"
His words became a blur as Cassidy's eyes fluttered shut. For a moment, she wasn't with Ron anymore.
"Voldemort," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her body frozen in place as the vision of the Dark Lord took hold. He loomed over her, holding her necklace tightly, a sinister smile playing on his lips as he leaned in close.
"Kill... this trinket... made to kill..." he hissed, sharp canines gleaming in the dim light.
"No..." Cassidy whispered, her breath shaky and weak. She tried to pull away, but she couldn't.
The next thing she knew, Ron's voice was calling her name, his hands shaking her gently.
"Cass! Cassidy!" Ron was frantic, his face contorted with worry as he held her shoulders. "What happened? You looked terrified—pushing me away like you thought I was someone else."
Cassidy blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind. She sat up straight, gasping for air.
"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, eyes wide in confusion. "I don't know what happened. I... I was seeing something."
Ron's eyes softened in concern, but Cassidy's gaze fell to his hand. There was a bite mark there - deep, angry red.
"Ron... did I do that?" Her voice cracked with disbelief.
Ron shook his head quickly, trying to brush it off. "It doesn't matter right now. Are you okay?" His voice was tight with worry, the kind of concern that made Cassidy's heart ache.
"I... I don't know," she whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the mark on his skin.
"Alright, you two, time's up!" Filch's sharp voice cut through the tension as he stormed into the trophy room. "Get outta here."
As they exited, Ron didn't speak a word, but his hand found Cassidy's, offering a quiet but comforting squeeze.
When they stepped outside, Hermione was waiting for them, her eyes scanning them both quickly. "Have you two seen—" she started, but her eyes widened when she saw Ron's hand. "Ron, what happened?"
"Doesn't matter," Ron muttered, voice distant as he looked at Cassidy, still holding her hand. "Where's Harry?"
Just then, Harry came rushing up, looking frantic and out of breath.
"Harry? What's going on?" Cassidy asked, but Harry stopped short, eyes wide with concern.
"Cassidy... necklace?" he gasped, breathless.
"Warm," she answered softly, feeling a strange knot tighten in her stomach.
"Thought so," Harry muttered, eyes darting around as though searching for something. "Do you hear it?"
"Hear what?" Cassidy asked, confused.
"The voice," Harry said, his voice tight with urgency.
"What voice?" Hermione asked, brows furrowing.
"I heard it first in Lockhart's office," Harry said, his tone strained. "Then again, just now..."
"Harry, what's going on?" Ron demanded, his worry intensifying. But before any of them could get an answer, Harry turned and ran off.
The trio exchanged a brief look before, without hesitation, they followed after him.