CHAPTER SEVENTY;

A NEW ERA

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Harry became considerably more interested in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making over the next few days. Every time Cassie saw him, he had his nose buried in the Half-Blood Prince's property, rarely looking up to even greet her as she sat across from him in the Great Hall.

"Have you ever heard of this spell?" Harry asked Ron, sliding the book over curiously and pointing to one of the many messy scrawls of ink across the page. Ron looked to Harry as though he were crazy before peering at the spell.

He shook his head. "No idea, mate," he said, returning contently to his mashed potatoes. Hermione was not as unperturbed and made it known by the amount of times she scowled at Harry a day.

She did so again (third time that day, Cassie had begun keeping score) and leaned in. "If you had any shred of sense, you would turn that book in!" she chided in a lowered voice, glancing around as though worried a teacher would hear her conversing with a felon.

"This Prince bloke does seem real odd," Ron added unhelpfully.

   Hermione shot him a glare as Harry replied, "He's made up his own spells! C'mon, Hermione, even you have to admit that it's–"

   "Or her," said Hermione. "It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's."

   "The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," said Harry. "How many girls have been Princes?"

   Hermione seemed to have no answer, so Cassie cut in. "Anyone who's got the sense to create an entirely new spell must have some sort of... I dunno, intelligence."

"See?" said Harry, shrugging. "Cassie's on my side."

"I am not on a side," she replied, rolling her eyes, "I only think that this 'Prince' figure is smarter than Hermione's giving him credit for, but also that Harry needs to be more careful than taking instructions from someone we don't know."

Hermione lapsed into a gracious rant, though Cassie completely zoned her out as an all-too familiar pang of aching struck her in the head. She held back a wince and stood suddenly, gathering her books as fast as possible before rushing back to the common room. She had barely made it into the portrait hole when a wave of nausea hit her like a brick and she staggered up the stairs to her dormitory. Thank Merlin, it was empty.

One thing Cassie had noticed was that her visions didn't happen nearly as often as they had normally. She rarely ever got migraines that led to a glimpse of the future, but when she did, they were now a million times worse and ended with huge visions.

   Cassie drew her hangings around her bed and sat in the darkness, fiddling her wand between her fingers as she waited for the inevitable. When it did happen, she wouldn't have realized she was in the future if it weren't for the Dark Mark hovering above the Astronomy tower.

   She sprinted down the hall at top speed, running into many panicking students, teachers, and Aurors. In her haste, she ran directly into the chest of a man in dark robes. As she looked up to apologize, Cassie's heart nearly stopped as she came face-to-face with a Death Eater's skull mask.

   Cassie stumbled back, eyes fixed on the Death Eater before her, when a scream stole her attention and she looked back to the Astronomy tower. A body seemed to be falling in slow-motion, long white hair cascading behind it and mystical robes flying around in the wind... Cassie looked away just as Dumbledore hit the ground, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a scream.

Before she could even process what she'd witnessed, she was snapped back to reality and fell back onto her bed with a strangled gasp. She scrambled against her bedsheets until her back made contact with the wall, her hands reaching desperately for her wand, and ripped the hangings back from her bed.

Even though she knew it was only a vision, she pulled the curtains of the window back and checked the Astronomy tower, her nerves only unfurling in the slightest at the sight of the perfectly blue, un-Marked sky above it. Still, she knew it was a vision, and that it would come true eventually. Whether the next day or in a year.

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"It's–it's tragic!" Hermione continuously insisted as her, Cassie, and Ron made their way back to the common room after a quick trip to the kitchens for some snacks, only to come across a certain miserably depressed house-elf. "She's lost her two best – her only friends. I don't blame her for crying all the time!"

"Well, yeah," said Ron, "but she's a house-elf, isn't she? She's got.. I dunno, tasks to carry out, right? Can't spend all her time wallowing in the corner–"

"You're so unbelievably insensitive," huffed Hermione.

"Wipsy's grieving," Cassie threw in, shrugging. "I think there's plenty of other house-elves to continue the work in her absence. Besides, I'm her friend."

   Hermione and Ron had no reply to this. They reached the Fat Lady, who peered down at them from her high portrait and asked for the password. "Fairy lights," Cassie replied, somewhat impatiently; she could not wait to see Harry. He had returned from his one-on-one lesson with Dumbledore only a moment before them, and she was antsy to hear about his finds.

When the three of them poured into the common room, they were relieved to find it completely empty besides the boy sitting in the corner, bouncing his leg anxiously. Harry looked up as they entered and stood quickly, bounding over to meet them at the door. "You'll never believe it."

"Let's get up to your dorm," suggested Hermione, glancing over her shoulder and to the door where Neville and Ginny had just entered from. Each party shot each other a friendly smile, but the quartet was out and up the stairs before Neville or Ginny could even say hello.

"Well?" said Cassie and Hermione over each other as the group took their seats on the floor of the boys' dormitory. Neville, Dean, and Seamus hopefully knew better than to intrude on the sacred time spent between the four 'Golden Gryffindors' (as they had been branded in an article from the Daily Prophet – Cassie was adamant to resolve themselves from that stupid moniker). She sat with her back against the leg of Harry's bed, directly across from the boy himself as he lapsed into the tale of what he had seen in Dumbledore's office.

It was a gruesome story. So far, from what Cassie could tell, Harry had witnessed the memory of Bob Ogden, a Ministry official sent to the Gaunt house on behalf of an accusation of magic usage against Muggles. Ogden came face-to-face with one of the oldest pure-blooded families in Wizarding history: the Gaunts. The family welcomed him coldly into their home, where Ogden informed them that due to their crimes – magic usage in the vicinity of a Muggle and refusing to attend a hearing – that Mr. Gaunt and his eldest son, Morfin, would be taken off to Azkaban for a few months. This conversation was cut short as a carriage drove by, bearing a Muggle man, Tom Riddle, with which Merope (the Gaunt's daughter) had fallen in love.

   "...and Dumbledore pulled me out after that, but he told me that Merope had slipped Tom a love potion and they had conceived a child together."

   "Our beloved Tom Riddle?" guessed Cassie dryly, her lips twisting off to the side as thoughts raced through her mind furiously. "So.. why did Dumbledore tell you all this?"

   "He says it's got everything to do with the prophecy," replied Harry quietly, dropping his gaze.

   "Blimey," said Ron, finally recovering from his slack-jawed shock at Harry's story. "I mean... blimey."

   "Eloquent as always, Ron," said Cassie. She had meant it jokingly, but could not manage a tone of joviality to her voice. Pulling her knees closer to her chest for a sense of comfort, she inhaled a deep breath and said, "While we're on the topic of our dear Headmaster and his... odd doings.."

   Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked to her, suddenly urgent. "What is it?" pressured Hermione, leaning forward. "Have you had a... you know..?"

   "It's called a vision, Hermione," said Harry impatiently, before turning back to Cassie with a concerned expression. "But have you had one?"

"You lot know I haven't had one in a while," began Cassie, wringing her hands slightly. Her eyes flickered up to Harry and their gazes met; his face was worried. He knew she bore bad news, but he was ready to face it either way if it meant she didn't have to shoulder the burden of the future on her own. In a short moment, Cassie decided the exact opposite. The future was her tribulation to carry, not anyone else's. Her breath caught. Harry couldn't know. "And... well," she continued, now simply pretending to be troubled, "I think there's going to be a small battle at Hogwarts. No.. no deaths," she said in a small voice, nearly cringing at the blatant lies leaving her mouth.

But again, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her of what had happened last time she'd seen a death happen before it truly occurred and she didn't tell anyone. She'd lost Cedric the same way, and was not prepared to lose Dumbledore, no matter how little she trusted him or how much she blamed him for.

Cassie nibbled on her bottom lip, downcast her gaze, and silently decided that she would save her headmaster, and she would have to do it herself.

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Within the next few days, Cassie had resorted to poring over her most recent vision and combing through it for any defining features that could tell her when it would occur.

   It hadn't been particularly cold, she remembered – but then, she thought, had she ever been able to feel the weather in her visions? And even if she had, was it enough to base off of? For example she hadn't been blatantly shivering, so it wasn't near winter, yet she hadn't been warm, so it wasn't quite summer, either... She decided on putting the when on hold, and instead moved her attention to the battle that she had been in the midst of. How had the Death Eaters even gotten into Hogwarts?

She had been so concentrated on the task at hand that Quidditch trials were a slap back to reality.

"Excited?" said Hermione the morning of, grinning and sliding Cassie a cup of pumpkin juice. "Lots of people are trying out!"

"They're gonna take all morning," said Harry, now taking his seat next to Cassie and reaching for the toast. "I really dunno why the team's so popular all of a sudden."

"Oh come on, Harry," said Hermione, her forehead crinkling in frustration. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron choked on his drink, Harry gaped at Hermione, and Cassie went on with eating her eggs.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now. The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought – and won – against him in the last two years," continued Hermione. "And now they're calling you the 'Chosen One' – come on, you really can't see why people are fascinated by you?"

Harry's cheeks flushed red and he made to argue with Hermione, but she waved a hand and was evidently not finished yet. "And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that devil woman made you write with your own blood.."

"I've got a scar on my back from when Fred, George, and Ginny threw me down the stairs three years ago," said Ron. Cassie stifled a snort.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione added, ignoring Ron.

"I've gotten taller!" said Ron. The other three ignored him again.

"Again," Hermione said to Harry with a tone of finality, "you're fanciable."

Cassie had started on her essay for Potions but could swear she felt Harry's gaze on her. She looked up and they locked eyes – she sent him a friendly smile and returned to her essay, unfazed.

"Ooh, owls are here," said Hermione anxiously, looking up toward the incoming flock of feathers and papers. Lots more students were receiving letters from home this year – it was quite obvious that parents were reassuring their students that everyone was fine and alive at home. The Prophet was continuously publishing updates on missing wizards and dead wizards, but everyone figured it would be much nicer to hear the news from someone other than the papers. Nevertheless, Hermione was still subscribed, and received weekly updates every Saturday at breakfast. Today it was delivered by a brown barn owl, who Hermione offered a Galleon as payment.

"Anyone we know dead?" asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice, but Cassie could hear the edge of worry behind it.

"No, but there have been more dementor attacks," replied Hermione. She paused, then furrowed her brow. "And an arrest."

"Excellent," said Cassie, a swell of hope in her chest thinking it was Bellatrix Lestrange. "Who?"

"Stan Shunpike," said Hermione.

"Stan? The conductor of the Knight Bus?" said Ron incredulously. "What's he done?"

"Says he was overheard talking about the Death Eaters' plans in a pub," said Hermione, her brown eyes skimming the paper in her hands. "Doubt he was under an Imperius. Who'd stand around gossiping about their plans, under an Unforgivable?"

   "They're probably arresting anyone who even looks at an item of Dark Magic," said Cassie, a tone of sourness in her voice. It was no secret to anyone that she still was not a fan of the Magical Law Enforcement team, no matter how many true Death Eaters they arrested.

   "It's time for Quidditch," amended Harry, as the four of them had fallen into silence after Cassie's bitter accusation. Harry stood, looking to Cassie and Ron expectantly. "You both ready? I've got a feeling this may take a while."

   "Bloody freezing out here." Cassie shivered a few moments later, hugging her arms to herself and eyeing the stands of the Quidditch pitch. Half of their House seemed to have turned up, occupying the majority of the bleachers and leaving only a few open seats for Hermione to choose from. Cassie clutching her broom under her arm as she tied her hair back, though she lifted her head curiously as a piece of red and yellow fabric was offered under her nose.

"Here," said Harry, holding out his Quidditch sweater. "I think I'm gonna be working too hard to feel the chill."

She reached out and took hold of the sweater, though decided to mess with her friend a bit as payback for threatening to bar her from tryouts. "And you don't think I'm going to be working up a sweat?" she countered, tilting her head to the side. Harry faltered and immediately started stammering, but Cassie only laughed. "I'm only joking, mate. Thanks for the sweater."

"Harry!" Cassie was suddenly shoved to the side as a tall boy with curly blond hair extended a hand to Harry, smiling brightly. "We met on the train. I'm Cormac Mclaggen, remember? I'll be going for Keeper."

"Right," said Harry, looking to Mclaggen distastefully for only a moment before turning back to Cassie. He put a hand on her shoulder to stabilize her. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't bang my hopefuls up, Mclaggen," he said coldly, sending a glare to the boy.

The first group Harry tested was a gaggle of first years who had clearly never flown higher than three feet above the ground. Harry dismissed them quickly. The second group was comprised of many giggling girls that merely fell about laughing and clutching each other, stumbling "accidentally" into Harry. He went quite rigid and helped them back up, sending Cassie an glance to check if she'd seen. She didn't notice, as she was busy arguing with Mclaggen.

"No, you don't understand," said Mclaggen condescendingly, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'm not saying you probably won't make it because you're a girl; I'm saying you probably won't make it because you clearly don't have enough skill."

"'Clearly don't have enough skill?'" repeated Cassie angrily, gripping her broomstick with both hands to keep from lashing out at Mclaggen. "Care to elaborate?"

"Oh, it's nothing against you," said Mclaggen dashingly, peering up at the third group in the air.

"Right. Nothing against me," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at Mclaggen. He was much too cocky and arrogant to make it on the team, Cassie decided. She blew a stray strand of hair from her face and said, "I've got more skill on a broomstick than you. I expect your big head weighs you down."

Mclaggen turned to face her, startled. "How dare you insult me?" he said furiously, his face screwing up angrily. He jabbed an accusing finger at her. "I'll have you know–"

"Sure, sure," said Cassie distractedly, her confused gaze now focused on the pitch again. Were those... Ravenclaws now on the field? What the bloody hell?

"Oi, Mclaggen," said Ron, walking over, "go stuff your pig face somewhere else. Leave Cass alone."

Mclaggen reluctantly stalked off to stand with the rest of the Keeper hopefuls. Cassie watched as Harry ushered the Ravenclaws off the field, an annoyed expression on his face as he told the stray Hufflepuffs to clear out. Cassie frowned. "These tryouts aren't off to a good start," she deducted.

   Fortunately, after the strange beginning, the Quidditch trials skyrocketed – literally. Harry had found his two Beaters within an hour, and after a brilliant run in which Cassie had scored ten goals, he had chosen the three Chasers, Cassie hopefully being on his list. He refused to say who'd made it until everyone had had a chance to try out, and the Keepers were the last to go. This meant Mclaggen versus Ron, and Cassie had to admit that she silently hoped Mclaggen would fall from his broom.

   As the two boys took off, Cassie collapsed into a seat next to Katie Bell, pulling the sleeves of Harry's sweater over her shivering hands. She rubbed her nose to rid it of the cold.

   "You did brilliant," said Ginny brightly, taking a seat on Cassie's other side. "Harry'd be damned if he didn't pick you."

   "I can say the same for you," Cassie complimented. "You flew like a maniac. Maybe if everyone here had grown up playing against the Weasleys.."

   Ginny laughed and shook her head. "Maybe if everyone here had grown up with the Weasleys there would be a billion more redheads," she quipped, grinning. Suddenly, her smile turned to shock as she gazed onto the pitch. "Holy– Mclaggen's just missed! Went straight to the side!"

   Cassie turned urgently back to the field, eyes widening at the sight of Mclaggen veering off to the left again when the Quaffle was very clearly heading right. Cassie laughed. "He's definitely been Confunded," she said under her breath, shaking her head. Her eyes trailed the stands and landed on a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor who was slyly tucking her wand back into her pocket. Cassie gaped at Hermione. "Bloody brilliant, she is..."

   Next – and lastly – was Ron. He stalked out onto the field, waving at Lavender, who was cheering so excitedly that she nearly fell from her seat. Ron took his place in the air, protectively hovering in front of the goal, and awaited the Quaffle. When it finally soared toward him, he blocked it easily. He seemed to find more and more courage throughout his tryout and, by the end, he bore a victorious grin, having saved five goals – one more than Mclaggen, securing Ron's place on the team.

   When Cassie and Ginny had rushed down to the pitch to hear the results and congratulate Ron, Mclaggen was storming off furiously, and Harry had a content smirk on his face. He clapped his hands for everyone's attention. "I'm not gonna make a big deal of this," he said, his voice hoarse from shouting over the tryouts all morning, "but my Keeper is Ron–" There was a loud cheer. "The Beaters; Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes!" More applause. "The Chasers, I'm proud to say, are Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley, and Cassie Black!" Another roar from the crowd, in which Katie, Ginny, and Cassie threw their arms around each others shoulders and cheered. Harry grinned to the crowd and clapped, but Cassie was not quite finished yet.

   "And your brilliant Gryffindor Seeker," she announced proudly, "is Harry bloody Potter!" Harry beamed at her and she ran over to strangle him in a ecstatic hug; sparks actually popped off her hair, she was so elated. She pulled away to cheer with Ron, but Harry kept his delighted gaze on her.

For an instant, the cheering of the crowd bled out, and Harry found himself staring at Cassie. He couldn't see anything but her. The world could have exploded, and he wouldn't have noticed.

Then, the laudation of the crowd resumed beating in his ears, and his stomach dropped to his feet as he realized something:

He fancied Cassiopeia bloody Black.

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a.n.
happy valentines day :D ! enjoy some subtle cassie x harry moments, i felt like u guys deserved content