Two
If you're smart, you'd run and protect yourself from the demon living in the dark. Save yourself from a life full of lies, and a heart full of pain and sorrow.
- Save yourself, My Darkest Days
The story starts, as it often does, with a baby.
The baby appears on the screen cradled in the arms of an old man, an old man who is dressed in periwinkle robes that glitter with golden stars. His name is Albus Dumbledore, and he is accompanied by a stern woman whose face is lined with frown lines, and a half-man half-giant whose beetle-dark eyes are wet with tears. The three of them are standing in front of a plain white house, in a street with houses that mimic exactly the house the three (four, if you count the young baby girl, who is examining the world around with awe-filled curiousity) are standing before. The only difference is the large number 4, shining dimly in the light from a nearby lamp, standing proudly on the door of the house.
"Oh, Cass," Susan gasps, for she will know her sister anywhere, even as a baby held in the arms of a man none of the Pevensies have any love for. "Look at you! You're adorable."
"Yeah, mate," Ron tries to joke, unsettled by this turn of events and attempting to use humour to cope with everything that is happening. (He has always used humour to cope with things that are happening. It is something he has picked up from Fred and George.) "What happened to that adorable little baby?"
Harry snorts, and Hermione rolls her eyes indulgently at the joke, but the three of them flinch at the looks that the Pevensies send them, looks that are filled with disgust and irritation. It is not entirely their fault that they do not know of the insecurities that plague Cass, the Pevensies know that, but they will not tolerate any slight towards their sister. She is beautiful, as she has always been, and nothing will ever change that.
There is a second baby, lying on the doorstep of the house, cradled in a pile of blankets. In sleep, the baby holds onto the letter that has been placed in the basket next to him. On it, there is a name written, the name of one of the members who lives in the house he has been placed on the doorstep of: Petunia Dursley
From where he sits stiffly on an old armchair, a curiously choked noise escapes from Severus Snape's lips. Several curious glances are sent his way, but no one dares to comment, not when he recovers almost instantaneously and glares at anyone who dares to glance at him.
No one sees Harry Potter flinch at the name written on the letter.
"You just left him on a doorstep?" Amelia Bones calls to Dumbledore, the frown evident in her voice. She is not happy with this; having raised a child herself, she is well aware of how sickly infants are. The concept of leaving a child on the doorstep of a house does not sit well with her. Dumbledore assures her that there were protections placed on the child, but Amelia is not convinced. Silently, she notes this instance down.
One strike against Dumbledore.
Next to Harry, Hermione frowns.
"Good luck, Harry Potter," Albus Dumbledore says, and the night stills in solemn silence, a moment of mourning for the young child who has just lost both of his parents and gained a burdensome fate that will change the wix world forever.
The other baby stirs in the old man's arms, a frown crossing her face as she attempts to look for the other baby, the baby who she grew up with but will now be separated from. When she does not see her friend, she does not cry, for she has never been a baby that cries, but instead she chooses to hit the old man's chest with a fist.
(Even as a baby, she is a fighter.)
"You never stop fighting, do you?" Edmund laughs into his sister's curls, feeling her smile from where she is resting her head on his shoulder. Silently, Cass shakes her head, and Edmund huffs a dramatic sigh. (He wishes his sister would allow others to fight for her sometimes. She doesn't need to fight every battle by herself.) Next to them, Lucy giggles at the interaction.
By the Gryffindor table, Harry watches wistfully. But he cannot begrudge Cass the familial relationship she seems to share with these strangers, nor can he find it in himself to be jealous of how close they seem to be. It is his own fault that he is no longer that close to her, and he knows it. (He regrets every moment that led to him losing her trust.)
"What are you going to do with her?" The stern-faced woman asks, not quite smiling down at the baby, who has stopped hitting Dumbledore in order to yawn, fighting the pull of sleep as she blinks up at the three adults who will decide her fate. "Now that her fathers are..."
From where he sits next to Harry, Remus Lupin winces. Paddy whines at his feet. Both of them regret their actions that night; if there was ever a chance they could go back to that night, they would do everything different. They would never leave her to be placed with another family.
(But regrets do nothing to change the past.)
"What happened to your parents?" A hufflepuff first year asks Cass innocently. The older girl glances over her shoulder, smiling slightly at the eleven-year-old; were it anyone else, she would never deign to answer, but she has always had a soft spot for the first-years.
"I lost them that night," Cass murmurs, words just loud enough for the first-year to hear. There is something haunted in Cass' eyes, memories of lonely days and tear-filled nights flitting through her mind. All of the things that could have been avoided, had her parents not deemed another child and their grief more important than their own daughter. (She will never forgive them for that.) "They abandoned me."
(It is not quite the truth.)
(It may not be the truth, but it is Cass' truth.)
"She will go to her family." It is not a question. There will be no arguments about this. Dumbledore has decided what to do with the baby, and he will not be swayed. "As Harry is going to his family, she must go to hers."
Remus chokes on air. Curiously, so does Severus, although he manages to recover quick enough to not attract attention from the students. But in the end, it is not either of them who protests. Instead, Narcissa Malfoy leaps to her feet in an uncharacteristic show of anger, glaring venemously at Dumbledore. "You did not take her there," Narcissa hisses, and many in the hall cower for fear of attracting her wrath. Standing up, Lucius attempts to force his wife to retake her seat, but she shakes his hand off her shoulder, walking towards Dumbledore with fury in her eyes. "My aunt is mad," Narcissa snarls, and Dumbledore cowers slightly, although most do not notice. "Was mad. If anything happens to my family, there will be nowhere you can hide from me."
For once, Remus does not fight with the Malfoy, as he gets to his feet and places a hand on Narcissa's shoulder, a silent show of support. At their sides, Paddy growls, and there is a look in the dog's eyes that prompt everyone to believe he would like nothing more than to rip Dumbledore's throat out.
Cass is touched.
(She's never known her birth family to worry about her before.)
The stern woman protests (she remembers a black-haired boy walking into her classroom after the holidays, bruises blooming on his skin and a haunted look in his eyes) but Dumbledore does not hesitate, spinning on his heel and disappearing with a loud crack whilst she is still arguing.
He reappears in London, outside a large townhouse, the twelfth one on that street. Although there is outwardly nothing to differentiate the house from any other on the street, it appears to loom over all the other buildings, a menacing ruler forcing unwanted laws onto its reluctant devotees. The baby coughs, whimpering quietly at the aura of darkness which pervades the building, but Dumbledore does not comfort her, as anyone else might have. Rather, he walks forward, knocking loudly on the door, heedless of the people he may disturb in the houses on either side of the twelfth building.
Cass flinches upon seeing the building, and immediately, Lucy curls closer, wrapping her arms around her older sister, attempting to provide the same comfort Cass once offered Lucy, in land that no one has ever heard about, in a time long passed. Upon feeling the slender arms embracing her, Cass does not cry, but it is close.
For a long moment, no one answers.
Then, slowly, the door creaks open, a surly house elf glaring up at Dumbledore. "What is yous wanting?"
Paddy growls at the elf, and Harry rolls his eyes at the dog. Next to him, Hermione is frowning, but for once has chosen to stay silent when faced with the use of house elves in the Wix World, perhaps sensing that it is not the time for an extended rant on the rights of creatures.
The man smiles genially, thrusting the child towards the elf, the girl crying out at the abrupt movement. She does not want to be here, she does not want to be separated from her family, but she is not given a choice. (She will take her choice back in the future.) "The second last Black," Dumbledore states, giving the elf no choice but to grab the child. "Her name is Cassiopeia Adhara. She must be raised with her family."
Another crack echoes in the night, and Dumbledore is gone.
"You just shoved her at the elf and disappeared?" Hermione shrieks. She can and has excused many things when it comes to her headmaster, her idol, but she will never condone children being raised in anything other than safe and loving homes. And she knows enough of the world to understand that simply shoving a baby at someone can never end well. She was concerned over how Harry was brought to his Aunt and Uncle, but now she is incensed.
A little bit of her faith in her headmaster disappears.
An elf and a baby stand on the doorstep.
The baby frowns.
The scene disappears in a cloud of fog. For a moment, it seems as though that will be the end of it - already, people are murmuring, picking apart what they have just watched - but then, somewhere in the fog that now obscures the image, two silver eyes open.
A new image forms.
"Mistress says Kreacher must keep little brat out of sight," the same house elf from the last scene mutters, whilst he stirs a pot of what appears to be stew in a grimy, dimly lit kitchen. A toddler sits on the floor, wearing an indigo dress, silvery eyes glittering as she stares at the elf curiously. She is barefoot, and her hands are stained blue with an unknown substance. She reaches for the elf, but he ignores her plea for affection.
Many of the students coo at the adorable sight. Some of the Professors do too, although more of them are sad about how the child is not given the affection she so desperately wants. The Pevensie siblings frown, and Edmund grips Cass' hand tightly, whilst Lucy's embrace becomes near-suffocating. (They hate that their sister had to fight for affection that she should have received freely.)
She pouts, but is not overly surprised. This has been happening for years. She cannot remember the last time she had a hug, or even a warm glance.Deciding she does not want to stay in the kitchen anymore, she shifts, crawling away from the elf as silently as a toddler can. Vanishing from the kitchen, she finds a spot under the staircase that is uncluttered and hidden, the perfect spot for a child that doesn't want to be found.
The elf does not notice her disappearance, still muttering to himself as he nurses the meal he is busy making.
Sitting in a small hole under the stairs, Cassiopeia Black wraps her arms around herself and tries not to cry.
Leaning over from the loveseat he shares with Susan, Peter puts a gentle hand on his middle sister's shoulder, a warm smile on his face when she glances at him in confusion.
"We will never let you feel like that again," Susan whispers in answer to her sister's confusion. She knows what it is to be lonely, but with her three siblings, loneliness has always been a fleeting feeling. She is saddened that Cass has become so used to loneliness; she mourns that her sister had to endure such things from such a tender age. "You are our sister, and we will not allow you to feel as though you are alone"
From across the hall, Remus Lupin watches the child version of Cass cry. There are tears in his eyes.
The scene blurs again, and focuses on an image of Cassiopeia running through the hallways of the building. She is older than she was in the last scene, no longer a toddler, now a child of about five years old. Her hair is long and untamed, and there are smudges of dirt on her skin. She is clutching a vial in her hands.
Paddy whines when the girl appears on the screen, although no one is sure whether it is from sadness or relief. Draco Malfoy makes a sound akin to a whine as well, although his is of horror. "Your hair," he groans. "Your beautiful hair! What did you do to it? How could you not look after it?"
Cass laughs, but does not reply. Draco did not expect her too. (He is just glad he could make her smile.)
"CASSIOPEIA!" A scream rings through the building, harsh and shrill and jarring. Cassiopeia speeds up, the hallways blurring past as she sprints through the building. Coming up to a staircase, the young girl hesitates for a moment, but another shrill shriek of her name spurs her into action and she dashes down the stairs, tripping on the last step but getting up moments after she hit the ground, wincing at her cut open knee but otherwise ignoring it. It is only when she is faced with a large, ornate door that Cassiopeia pauses, taking a moment to regain her breath before pushing open the door and padding inside.
Paddy growls when he hears the woman shriek, and Remus places a hand on his neck to try and calm him, although the werewolf is rather tense himself, barely holding back from yelling at the lady who is screaming at Cass. Next to them, Harry winces in sympathy when he sees Cass shake off the pain of cutting open her knee. He knows what it is to feel pain, but not care about it. He knows what it feels like to shake off an injury, because of the knowledge that something much worse awaits you if you are late, or if you do not complete your duties, or if you step out of line...
(He would never have wishes that life on anyone, least of all Cass.)
(She has never deserved the hand life has dealt her.)
"I am here, grandmother," the young girl says quietly, silver eyes filled with caution as she regards the ailing lady lying on the bed before her. The lady beckons her forwards, and Cassiopeia follows the summons as she will never do again as she has always done since she arrived at that dreary building. Deftly, she slips the vial she clutches in her hand into the pocket of her pants, the pants that are slightly too large and held up with rope, folded at the cuffs to stop them from pooling around her feet. The vial has left imprints upon the skin of her palms; she was gripping it too tight.
"Look at you," the woman scowls, eyes filling with displeasure as she examines the young child's appearance with disgust. Cassiopeia does not flinch under her disapproving eyes, but she does falter, shoulders hunching and breath stuttering as she prepares herself for the onslaught she will face. The woman beckons her closer once more; when Cassiopeia moves closer, as instructed, the old woman grips her face with clawed hands, sharp nails breaking through delicate skin and sending rivulets of blood running down the child's face. (It is not the last time she will be painted in blood.) "I told you to stop dressing in those rags; it is not befitting of an heiress to go about in trousers, like a common whelp off the streets. I know you do not like dresses, but you must stop being so selfish, Cassiopeia. It is your duty to represent the family."
Many of the Slytherins sigh. They understand what Cass must be feeling; they understand, because they have felt like that too. They have heard those words, parroted at them over and over until they permeated every inch of their lives.
(It is awful, to know that you will only ever be a disappointment.)
Cassiopeia nods, a frown weighing heavy on her face. Her grandmother sighs, a tired sound, and then coughs, frail body shaking under the onslaught of coughing. "My tea," her grandmother gasps, when there is a moment of respite between the coughs. "Serve me my tea, girl. Don't just stand there like a useless brat."
Cassiopeia says nothing, but turns to the tea set that sits on her grandmother's bedside table, wisps of steam rising from the teapot. As her grandmother begins to cough once more, Cassiopeia lifts the teapot, silver eyes emotionless as she watches the tea cascade into the decorative china cup. Placing the teapot down, the child hesitates; a drop of blood runs down her face and drips onto her hand, and her lips tighten, hesitation fleeing.
Reaching into her pocket, Cassiopeia grabs the vial of nightmare-coloured liquid. One, two, three drops fall into the cup of tea, followed by several more drops in the teapot itself. The vial disappears into her pocket once more, and she holds the cup of tea gently in her hands as she turns to her grandmother.
Watching the woman drink from the cup, there is a gleam of vindictiveness in Cass' eyes. The hint of a smirk curls her lips.
Amelia Bones should be horrified. She should be leaping to her feet and demanding the arrest of Cassiopeia Black, because she recognizes that potion and she knows that Walburga Black died less than two years later, and she remembers the report on the death of Walburga Black. (They never figured out how the woman drank that poison.) She had known then that it was no accident, that someone had fed the woman that poison on purpose. She knows now that is was never an accident; she has the murderer sitting in front of her, and she should be calling for her arrest.
And yet, she does not.
Because Amelia Bones is the head of Law Enforcement, but first and foremost, she is an aunt who had to raise her baby niece after the untimely demise of her younger brother. She is a mother, if not by blood, and so, Amelia Bones does not call for the arrest of Cassiopeia Black.
Instead, Amelia Bones mourns. She mourns the abuse the child clearly suffered at the hands of a mentally unstable woman, and she mourns that the girl never felt as though she could ask for help. She mourns that the girl (who could not be older than five) felt as though she had no other option, but to poison her abuser, in order to escape from the abusive situation she should never have been placed into. She sees the look on the child's face, and she mourns, because she can see that the girl feels no remorse for her actions, because the girl knows that she has no other choice if she ever wants to escape.
(What have they done to this child?)
Amelia Bones does not demand Cass' arrest, but Lucius Malfoy does, a smirk curling his lips as he stares down the young girl whose life they are watching and tells her that for her crimes, she will visit Azkaban. (Like father like daughter.) And then the Pevensies are on their feet, forming a barrier between their sister and the blonde man who has no real power to speak of. Lucy smiles with teeth that are too big and too sharp for her face, fondling the handle of a knife lovingly. Susan's glass-shard eyes peel away the layers of the man's soul, bloodied lips stretching into a cold grin at the cowardice she finds there. Peter glares at the man with a lion's spirit shining in his eyes, predatory and dangerous and fiercely protective over those considered part of his family.
And Edmund cracks his knuckles (the sound like bone breaking) and fixes Lucius Malfoy with an expression that shows he is already planning how to dispose of the man's body. "Just you try to take her," Edmund says, and in his voice, there is not a threat, but a promise. "Touch my sister and see what happens."
And then Cass herself turns to smile at Lucius Malfoy with bloodied lips and teeth that look too much like fangs, a snake's cunning shown on her face. "I would do it again in a heartbeat," Cass says, and everyone knows that the words are true.
Remus watches everything with grieving eyes (He would do anything to undo the past.) Paddy whimpers; he came from a broken home, and he returned to a broken home, only this home was broken because of him. Amelia Bones, mother, aunt, watches the scene with a mourning heart.
(How could they have let this happen?)
The scene changes again. The same bedroom is shown, but this time, the woman in it is older, frailer. Her skin is stretched thin over her bones, and her veins are a sickly black colour. The house elf clutches her hand, wailing desperately, tears dripping down his face.
The woman is not breathing.
Two silver eyes peek past the doorway. Cassiopeia glances into the bedroom, not reacting to the screaming house elf. Her hair is thicker, and longer, and most of the baby fat has disappeared from her face. She appears to be about seven years old, and is once again dressed in clothes slightly too big for her. A leather jacket swamps her frail frame.
"Oh," Harry whispers. He knows what this is; he knows how old Cass is in this scene, because she looks exactly like the childhood friend he remembers and loves. He remembers what she had once told him about her past, and knows that she lied. He can't bring himself to care that she wasn't truthful; if he'd been in that house, he would have lied too.
A small bag is clutched in her hands.
Many of the Slytherins sigh at the sight. Oh, how they wish they could do the same. They have often dreamed of running from their homes, abandoning every too-high expectation and too-heavy burden. (They are glad that at least one of them got away from it all.) (They wish that they had had the courage to do the same.)
"I'm glad you left," Edmund whispers into his sister's ear. She smiles, and leans further into him.
She knows that her siblings will never hate her for doing what she needed to to survive.
When she sees the dead woman lying motionless on the bed, Cassiopeia lets out a small breath. Some of the tension vanishes from her. For a moment, she appears to be torn, but then the moment passes, and she stumbles past the room. The elf does not react to her walking past, too lost in his grief to notice a ghost of a girl padding through the house.
Cassiopeia reaches the front door without anyone stopping her. There is no hesitation left in her; reaching forwards, she grabs the door handle, opening the door just a crack and slipping out into the night.
Standing on the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld Place, Cassiopeia Adhara Black turns her face to the stars, and she smiles.
Hermione mimics the smile of her no-longer-friend, a tender smile that is full of relief and hope. She is glad that Cass escaped. She never knew what her friend had gone through - looking back, there were so many clues that Cass had been abused, but hindsight is perfect and Hermione cannot change the past. She can just be glad that her once-friend-now-regretq managed to get herself out of that situation.
(She will forever be grateful Cass chose to save herself.)
"Hello." The scene shifts again, showing Cassiopeia, sitting on the swings in a near-empty park. Her bag lies next to her. The leather jacket lies atop the bag, nearly obscuring it from view. A young boy is standing next to her, emerald green eyes observing her calmly. He appears to be about seven years old, the same age as Cassiopeia herself.
"Harry." Remus smiles. It is a bittersweet moment for him, seeing the two children together, so young, so alone. In a different life, they would have grown up together, best friends and partners in crime from the day they could walk. But that will never happen in this life, and it pains him.
"Hello." Cassiopeia smiles at him, eyes lighting up with happiness when she sees the young boy. "I'm Cassiopeia. Who are you?"
"Harry," the boy replies carefully, sitting in the swing next to Cass, still studying her carefully from behind the glasses perched on his face. After a moment, he seems to see something he likes, and smiles. His face brightens, and he looks innocent, unknowing of the world and all of its troubles. "You're pretty."
"Always a charmer, aren't you, mate?" Ron Weasley forces a laugh. Truthfully, he does not understand much of what is happening. He knows what abuse is, but he has never experienced it, nor met anyone who has gone through something like that. (He has, he just doesn't know it.) He cannot understand what it is to go to sleep crying every night, wishing someone would save you and knowing that no one ever will. But he knows that he will do his best to support his friends, no matter what.
Cassiopeia laughs quietly, and thanks him. "You're pretty too," she says, and does not elaborate on that. For a moment, the two children are quiet, but then Cassiopeia glances over at this strange boy who came over and chose to talk to her, and she smiles once again. (It is the most she has ever smiled in her entire life.) "Do you want to be friends?"
Harry beams at her, and nods.
The two children sit on the swings, and they talk, and they laugh, and they have never been so happy.