Another Shade of Black

Chapter One - Leaving

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The city of New York is both heaven and hell in the summer.

Heaven, because the trees of Central Park are greener than ever before. Heaven, because the sky which the Statue of Liberty stretches her torch towards, is as blue as the peaceful water of the Hudson River. Heaven, because the huge sun in said sky is spreading its warmth over the city and makes the thousands of windows on the Empire State Building glisten and sparkle in the bright light.

Hell, because the weather is so god damn hot that no one is able to enjoy it anyway.

She was sitting in her apartment, reading the newspaper - the New York Times - while silently blessing whomever invented the air condition. Flipping over a page, she started reading an article about the recent train strike. She liked the New York Times. It was nice and predictable. Train strikes, traffic stand-stills, bank robberies, old ladies getting mugged, etcetera. Nothing new.

She took a small sip of her ice tea. And the inventor of cold drinks, she thought lazily to herself and grinned slightly, bless his wonderful soul too.

Suddenly her train of thoughts were interrupted by a sound from the living room window. Frowning, she got up from the kitchen chair and walked towards the noise.

It sounded as if though a bird was pecking its beak against the window-pane and, assuming it was a pigeon - do not bless the inventor of pigeons - she prepared to tell it to do something she would never say if there were children nearby.

But it wasn't a pigeon.

It was an owl. He was very handsome - an owlish kind of handsome, that is - with auburn feathers, and he folded his wings proudly as he settled himself on the window-sill and stared urgently through the glass, with demanding dark brown eyes.

Now, as one may easily understand, having a handsome - yet again, an owlish kind of handsome - owl with demanding dark brown eyes landing himself on your window-sill is not a common sight on Manhattan, New York. It probably wouldn't be a common sight in, say, Georgetown, Washington DC either, but the location is not really the issue here, so we'll stop that debate right about now.

She stared at the handsome owl. The owl stared back and pecked the window-pane with his beak once again. It was almost as if it was telling her - in quite a determined fashion - to open the window and let him in. She continued to stare at him.

A lot of people never get to see an owl close up, and a lot of people would stare if they ever were encountered with one. Especially if the owl in question was carrying a... a letter? The incredible rarity of the situation would make anyone stare in surprise.

So was she, but for another reason than a mere "hey, 's that an owl? Cool!". She had come across many owls before - many handsome owls on window-sills - and her surprise was more of the nature of someone who is under the impression that the past is the past and if you hide from it, it will go away. The surprise of someone who has just discovered that that isn't the case. That it's never the case.

So she stared in surprise at the owl. It had, after all, been about a decade since she had seen one.

Slowly, the initial shock began to wear off, and the owl, who had started to peck his beak on the glass more and more fiercely, made her grow worried that the neighbours might wonder about the noise. Reluctantly, she opened the window and reached out for the small envelope which was carefully tied to his leg. She removed the letter and the owl, seemingly happy, stretched out his large wings and flew away over the housetops. Turning her gaze away from him, as he disappeared into the sky, she eyed the letter in her hand.

"Well", she said, more to herself than anyone. Then, with a sigh; "well...".

She cast a glance at her wrist-watch, noticing it was a quarter to two and that Daniel, her boyfriend, wouldn't come home for another couple of hours. They celebrated their first anniversary today and she knew he had booked a table at a very posh and expensive restaurant. To tell the truth, she was a bit annoyed with his grand gestures, but she did appreciate he was trying so hard, despite the fact that her bad mood made her treat him with unfairness sometimes. And he was nice. Nice and soothingly predictable. Kind of like the New York Times.

Sitting down on her couch, breathing heavily, she began to slowly unfold the envelope. Inside of it, she found a letter and a clip from a newspaper. Her heart beating tensely, she looked at the name of the newspaper, in the upper left corner of the clip. The Daily Prophet. Definitely not the New York Times.

"Well", she said again, feeling the need to say something, but not knowing what.

Her gaze fell at the picture in the middle of the newspaper clip. It was a photograph of a man with a sunken face and long hair that probably should be black, but its colour was dull and matted. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened her eyes again, and began reading the article.

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES

On the night to today, the infamous prisoner Sirius Black managed to do what no one has ever done before; escape from the high security wizard prison of Azkaban. The magical community has already begun to fear a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black with a single curse murdered thirteen people. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, begs everyone to keep their calm and...

She stopped reading, not needing to know more to understand what was happening. She turned to the letter, on the top of which her name was written in a narrow handwriting;

Dear Castor,

For the last decade, I have honoured your request to be cut off from the magical world. However, something has happened and my writing to you is of urgent business. As you notice of the article from the Daily Prophet, Sirius Black has done what no one believed possible, and escaped from Azkaban. I know that you fully well understand the seriousness of the situation, and I know that you know I would not write to you unless it was important. I need your help, Castor, and young Harry Potter needs your protection. You do have a responsibility, and I urge you not to run away from it. It is time for you to face your fears. Hogwarts needs you, Castor. Come back.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Suddenly discovering that her hands were shaking, Castor made an effort to gather her thoughts, but failed miserably as memories she didn't want inside her head visited her once again.

Sirius Black.

Escaped.

She knew the story of course, everyone did. The one of a good wizard gone bad. In the great war between good and evil some twelve years ago, Black had turned out to be a spy for the most evil wizard the magical world had ever known, whose name still brought fear into the minds of everyone; Voldemort. With one single curse, Black had blown up a street full of muggles (non-wizarding people). Thirteen innocent people had died, and when the Ministry of Magic caught him, he was laughing.

But Castor also knew what very few had even heard of. That Black had betrayed his best friends, to Voldemort. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to keep the memories from flowing back. A tear forced its way through her eyelashes and trickled slowly down her cheek as she remembered that horrible autumn day, when Remus had told her that Lily and James were... dead. Murdered.

She knew that Voldemort had been after them and their one year old son, Harry. They knew it too, so they had gone into hiding. Only one person had known where they were, their best friend, Sirius Black. And he had betrayed them.

She hadn't believed it at first. Sirius, whom she had thought would die rather than forsake his friends. Guess we weren't that close anyway, eh? she thought sardonically.

He had come to see her the next day. The next day! How dared he?! He had caused the death of Lily and James, and now he came to try to talk to her?! He disgusted her, and she had told him so, in no uncertain terms. He had looked at her, pleadingly. "Listen", he had said. "You've got to listen to me! It wasn't..."

She hadn't let him finish, but had disapparated the next second. Did he honestly think she was just going to stand there and listen to what he had to say? She didn't want an explanation! She didn't want to know how he had betrayed them!

The day after that, she learnt the news of the thirteen people he had murdered. But what Castor also knew, was that among those people was also Peter Pettigrew. She hadn't met him after the Potter's murder, but she had heard that he had been devastated. That he had tried to go after Sirius himself, but for no use. Peter, another one of those who were supposed to be one of his best friends. And Sirius had killed him too. Just like that.

The same day, Castor decided to leave everything that had anything to do with magic behind. She couldn't live in the magical world anymore, it was too... too difficult to cope with... everything, for various reasons, so she had left for New York, to live as a muggle. And that was where she had been for the past decade. Until now.

She looked at Dumbledore's letter. He asked for her return, and she knew well enough why. If Sirius Black was at large again, Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James, the Boy who Lived, the one who - no one knew how - had defeated Voldemort, would be in great danger. Sirius would go after him next.

So... he wants me to "face my fears"..., she thought. Suddenly she stood up abruptly, clenching the letter in her fist, with a determined look on her face. Yes, she was going to return. So many things had kept her away from the magical community, but now, for the first time, she felt strong enough to face those things. To overcome them.

No, she was fooling herself. She didn't feel strong enough, but nevertheless, she knew what she had to do.

Suddenly the name Daniel wandered through her mind. Daniel! Her boyfriend. Her muggle boyfriend. Her muggle boyfriend since a year who, to be honest, really knew nothing about her. Nor the world she came from. The world which she was going to leave him for.

Daniel was a nice man. He was a happy man. He made her forget about those little memories she had tried so hard to let go of. And now she had to leave him, knowing that there was no explanation she could possibly give him that would, in fact, explain.

She walked over to the kitchen table, grabbed a pencil, grabbed a piece of paper, and began to write...

Dear Daniel,

When you see this note, I'm gone. Please know that this has nothing to do with you, and please know that if I could change anything, if I could avoid hurting you - I would. But I can't, and so I must leave. Do not ask me for an explanation, for I'm unable to give you one. Do not try to come after me, you won't be able to find me. Just know that I will be ok, and I wish with all my heart that you will be too. I urge you to forget about me as soon as possible, and to find yourself a nice girl, marry her and have lots and lots of lovely children. Have a wonderful life.

Love,

Cassie

She signed with her nickname, the name Daniel thought was her real one, and sighed. It was cruel to leave him like this, but there was nothing she could do.

"Very well then", she whispered. "Here goes nothing..." Then, Castor used magic for the first time in twelve years, and disapparated.

A crack! was heard, and then the New York apartment was empty and quiet, save from the soft, humming noise of the air condition. And in the sky above, a handsome owl with auburn feathers was flying back to England.