Chapter 13
After Hermione had cast a charm to stop Cassidy's nose from bleeding and Harry had been taken to the nurses office, the Quidditch team plus the trio had gathered around Harry's bed.
Cassidy had been subtly sneaking Harry sweets when the nurse wasn't looking, to boost his morale. She perched on the edge of his bed, but had asked him before doing so. He smiled weakly up at her.
"If you sneak me another sweet, I think I'll explode, Cass." He mumbled, his floppy arm lying lifeless beside him.
"At least you'll die with that stupid grin on your face. Honestly, you'd think you're on holiday with the way you've relaxed yourself." Cassidy whispered back at him, rolling her eyes. But she couldn't hide a hint of a smile on her lips.
Ron watched them quietly, and rolled his eyes.
However, Malfoy's groaning had been piercing the ears of the Gryffindors for thirty minutes now. He clearly wasn't hurt, and was doing this for attention. Crabbe, Goyle, and some other Slytherins were gathered around his bed.
"Malfoy, can you shut up?" Cassidy exclaimed, frustrated. The twins sniggered before the nurse, Madam Pomfrey, entered the wing. Cassidy got up from the side of Harry's bed.
"Oh, Mr Malfoy, stop making such a fuss, you can go!" She said, clearly stressed. A bottle of an unknown liquid was held in her hand. "Out of my way, out of my way!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, pulling up a chair to sit next to Harry's bed. "Should've been brought straight to me," she said, breathless. "Mend bones, I can do that in a heartbeat, but growing them back-?"
"You will be able to, won't you?" Hermione asked, concern written all over her face.
"Oh, I'll be able to, certainly, but it'll be painful." Madam Pomfrey admitted, pouring some of the liquid she'd brought into a cup.
"Oh, dear." Cassidy said quietly, shaking her head.
"You'll be in for a rough night, Potter," Madam Pomfrey handed the cup to him, "growing bones is a nasty business."
Harry drank the liquid, and immediately spit it out, drenching Cassidy and slightly wetting the twins, who'd moved out of the way in time.
"Well what did you expect, pumpkin juice?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed incredulously, pouring Harry another glass.
"Oh Cassidy, I'm so sorry." Harry apologized, eyes wide.
"Ew." She said simply, swishing her wand gracefully and mumbling a drying charm.
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Later that night, Cassidy was jolted awake by a soft but insistent knock at the dormitory door. She squinted, confused, as the light from the common room flickered through the crack. Beside her, Hermione stirred but didn't wake.
She climbed out of bed, pulling on a dressing gown and adjusting her bonnet, and opened the door to find Professor McGonagall standing there, her expression stern but not unkind.
"Miss Sweet," she said briskly, "the headmaster would like a word. Come along."
Cassidy's stomach flipped. "At this hour?" she whispered, glancing back at the sleeping forms of her dorm mates.
"Yes, at this hour," McGonagall replied. "Bring your wand and hurry."
Cassidy obeyed, throwing on her slippers and following McGonagall through the shadowed corridors of the castle. The older witch didn't speak, and Cassidy didn't dare ask questions, but her fingers kept fiddling with the pendant around her neck, a nervous habit she couldn't shake.
When they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office, McGonagall murmured the password—"Peppermint humbugs"—and stepped aside to let Cassidy pass.
Cassidy hesitated. "Am I in trouble?" she blurted.
McGonagall's lips twitched ever so slightly. "No. Go on."
The spiral staircase carried Cassidy up to the circular office, where Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his half-moon glasses perched on his crooked nose. He looked up as she entered, his expression warm but curious.
"Miss Sweet," he greeted her. "Thank you for coming."
"Professor," Cassidy said uncertainly, stepping forward. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"
"Not at all," Dumbledore reassured her, gesturing for her to sit. "But I must admit, I've been meaning to speak with you about something of great interest."
She sat down slowly, her fingers brushing the cool surface of her necklace.
Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes flickered to the pendant, as if reading her thoughts. "Your necklace," he began, his voice soft. "Has it always been... shall we say, unique?"
Cassidy blinked. "Unique? I—I don't know. It's just always been mine. My dad says it's been in our family for ages, but he's never told me much about it."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It is not uncommon for artifacts of old magic to pass through families, their true nature often obscured by time. But such objects rarely remain dormant forever."
Her brows furrowed. "Do you think it's... dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" Dumbledore mused. "That depends on many things—chiefly, the intentions of its maker. But I suspect your necklace has already shown you glimpses of its purpose, has it not?"
Cassidy thought about the times it had heated up, the strange sense of awareness it seemed to have. "I guess," she admitted. "It's—reacted to things. Like danger."
"Curious," Dumbledore murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Very curious indeed."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint whirring of the silver instruments on his desk.
"Miss Sweet," Dumbledore said finally, "I must caution you to tread carefully. Sometimes, what we inherit from our ancestors is not simply a gift, but a responsibility."
The weight of his words settled heavily in her chest. "Do you know what it's meant to do?" she asked.
Dumbledore's gaze seemed to pierce right through her. "I have my suspicions," he said quietly. "But such truths are best discovered by those to whom they belong. Be patient, Miss Sweet. The answers will come in time."
Cassidy nodded, though her mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Dumbledore stood, signaling that their conversation was over, and escorted her to the door.
"Good night, Miss Sweet," he said kindly. "And remember—curiosity is a fine thing, but it must be tempered with caution."
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The next day, the group was gathered in the abandoned girls' bathrooms, the one that people hated to go into because of a certain ghost, Moaning Myrtle. Hermione stirred a bubbling cauldron, cross-legged on the floor, while Cassidy helped. She was good with Potions, after all, though Snape would rather die than admit it.
Harry was telling them something he'd overheard Dumbledore speaking about in the sick bay last night, and Cassidy determined that he must've called her to his office after that escapade. Although she found him a bit annoying, she felt sorry for Colin Creevey, who'd been Petrified.
"Again? You mean, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione asked, beckoning for Cassidy to add another ingredient to the Polyjuice Potion being made.
"Of course! Don't you see?" Ron exclaimed, glancing at Cassidy's focused expression, and the way her braids kept falling into her eyes. He looked away, ears slightly pink.
"Lucius Malfoy must've opened it when he was in school here. And now he's told Draco how to do it." Ron continued. Cassidy nodded absentmindedly, adding another ingredient to the mixture. She didn't want to mess this up.
"Maybe. But we have to wait for the Polyjuice potion to make sure." Hermione said. "Oh, Cass, pass me that dragon's toenail, would you?" She muttered to her, while Harry sat on the floor not too far from the two girls.
"And tell me why, Hermione, why are we brewing the Polyjuice potion in the middle of the girls' lavatory?" Ron asked, looking back to the two girls. "Won't we get caught?"
"There's a reason this place is empty, Weasley," Cassidy said calmly, looking into the bubbling cauldron. "No one ever comes in here."
"And why is that?" Ron pressed.
The girls both smiled to themselves.
"Moaning Myrtle." They said in unison.
"Who?" Ron asked, eyes squinting in confusion.
"Moaning Myrtle." They said in unison, again.
"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Ron asked, and Cassidy clapped a hand to her mouth in order to stifle a giggle.
"I'm Moaning Myrtle!" A pigtailed ghost of a girl shouted at Ron, startling him. Harry looked up in surprise, while Cassidy burst into laughter.
"Proper loony, she is." She said in between giggles. She knew she shouldn't laugh—Myrtle hadn't exactly had an easy afterlife—but after all the teasing about her hair, Cassidy couldn't resist poking fun back now and then.
Now, Cassidy hadn't had a problem with Moaning Myrtle at first, as she had often come to this bathroom to be alone. She hadn't even insulted her, or made fun of her, until the ghost had started to tease Cassidy about her hair, calling it funny-looking. So from then on, Cassidy Sweet devoted her life to doing the thing Myrtle hated the most: laughing at her.
"You shut your mouth, Sweet!" Myrtle exclaimed, before flying upward and looking down at the lot.
"I wouldn't expect you to mourn me," she said, self-pitying. "Who would ever talk about, ugly, miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle?"
"You've got that right," Cassidy snickered, as the boys looked up at Myrtle with a mixture of shock and curiosity. "The only time people talk about you is when they try to describe their annoying girlfriend."
Myrtle sobbed and narrowed her eyes at Cassidy, screaming as she swooped down and entered one of the toilets with a huge splash.
"Cassidy, what'd you say that for?" Ron asked, appalled.
"Long story. I'll tell you later." She replied, already focused on the potion again.
"She's a little sensitive," Hermione explained to Ron, giving Cassidy a pointed look.
"Little is an understatement." Cassidy scoffed, though her voice was quieter this time. She caught the edge of guilt creeping into her mind as she stirred the cauldron. "She's been taking jabs at me, too," she added with a shrug.