CASSANDRA, or Memoires of an Heroine

CASSANDRA, or Memoires of an Heroine

Chapter 4

'Hier ist zu lang kein Krieg gewesen.- It's too long since there's been a war here.'

- Bertolt Brecht, Mother Courage and her Children

The Book

Saturday, 3rd September 2022, 20:46:32, Gryffindor Common Room

There's trouble brewing. On the fifth of July French archaeologists found a golden, magical telescope in North France. Exactly what it was doing in a potato field near Lille nobody quite knows, but it has been identified as being made in Roman Britain. (Catherine tells us that it has to be magical, because the muggles had not then invented them.) The only thing is, it has words written on it that no-one understands. They are not written in any known script or language, either magical or muggle. The telescope itself appears to be perfectly ordinary.

The problems started when the French Minister of Magic, Phillipe Sandrier, decided to put the telescope on display in Beauxbaton's school. Our current Minister, a Larry Chalep, choose to take offense at that and has been publicly critiscizing M. Sandrier. Apparently they are old enemies.

Still, says Mother, they should put aside childish differences of opinion and stop this ridiculous argument.

The main problem is that Chalep has stirred up a great sense of Nationalism in the hearts of the British over the telescope business.

"The telescope," says the English population, "was made in England and so should remain in England. The French have no right to hole it up in secret in their school!"

Mother argues against this. She also disagrees with the archaeological evidence. "Perhaps it was made in France. They made a mistake."

The Department of Magical Heritage showed her the written report; it was conclusive. The telescope was made in North England around the year 245AD.

The French responded in an outraged way. They found the telescope, and so should keep it. The Daily Prophet screamed in reply that the French were behaving selfishly and had a corrupt, tyrannical and fascist leader!

"They're strong words to use lightly!" said Mother, brow creased in frustration one breakfast as she prowled up and down the dining room wearing out the pile carpet, a piece of toast in one hand, the Daily Prophet in her other and Josie the phoenix fluttering about her.

"Sit down," said Father quietly.

She made no sign that she'd even heard him, and continued pacing.

"Sit down," repeated Father more decisively.

I opened my Transfiguration textbook and pretended to concentrate on it.

"I'll sit or stand as I please!" snapped Mother. She was trembling all over with rage. "How dare he! How dare he! Corrupt, tyranical and fascist! If there's one person to apply those words to, it's Larry Chalep himself! Why can't we have Mundungus Fletcher back again! He was the best Minister we ever had! But Chalep is worse than Cornelius Fudge himself and that's saying a lot! Someone must get rid of him! Why can't Marisa rebel again? We need someone- someone brave enough, someone with enough good sense and someone who can manage power without abusing it!"

Father sighed, "You're looking for the perfect Minister, and you won't find him!"

Mother licked the jam spoon, "You never know."

At that moment an owl flew flew through the open French windows and landed on Mother's wrist. She tore open the envelope and all the colour left her cheeks. Father turned to her and said, his voice seeming to come from far away, "What is it? Who's it from?"

"From Charlie," she gasped and turned to me, "Cassandra, I think you had better leave the room."

I made eye contact with her and did not reply. "Cassandra," she said, "did you hear me?"

I stood up still meeting her eyes, "Oh I heard you all right! And I will not leave the room! Why must I be excluded? Am I not a member of this family just as you are? I shall stay."

Mother's eyes were burning like hot coals. She drew herself up a few inches and power radiated from her. We maintained eye contact. I could feel the power hitting the backs of my eyes and it hurt. Then suddenly something snapped and for a second everything shone into fine focus, as if I had received new glasses. Colours became more vivid I could see everything about my mother; everything that was hidden was revealed. For a split second, before my vision was clouded, I knew my mother better than anyone else on earth. Abruptly, with the force of an electric shock it was gone and I clutched my head; it ached so much. When I looked up my parents were staring at me still, they had hardly noticed anything.

My vision returned to normal, only it seemed that when I turned to look at my mother that I could see more about her than before. Odd little details that had previously escaped my notice were now glaringly obvious; the rings under her eyes, the strand of hair that had escaped her bun. I turned to my father and he too seemed different in an indescribable way. It was all over in a fraction of a second.

"Leave the room please, Cassandra," said Mother again.

"It's about the fire in Romania two years ago, isn't it?" I asked, suddenly sure of this.

"How did you know?" inquired Mother sharply.

"I don't know how. I just know..." I trailed off. Actually it was one of the things I had seen a few seconds before but I did not tell Mother. Except for when I swapped Milly Malfoy's handcream for bubotuber puss, I told my parents most things. Even five minutes before I would have told them about my change of perspective. Now, never.

I stood up and slammed my book shut, "Fine. I'll go. It's obvious you don't want me."

I left the room and was walking away when an idea struck me. I hesitated and put my ear to the door. They were talking quietly, but I could hear most of what they were saying.

"So you see," said my mother, "you understand why I am worried."

My father made an interesting noise like 'umph', then said, "But you must have some idea what it is! You can't not have an idea!"

No reply then, "I don't know," spoken so quietly and sadly I could hardly hear it.

There was a long pause where my parents spoke too quietly for me to hear then I heard a chair being scraped back. My mother said in her normal voice, "I'm going down to DOM now! I must tell Catherine about this!"

"Catherine gets an extra grey hair every time you speak to her!"

"Too bad! It's her job to listen to her Domini! And I am a model Domina!"

Her voice approached the door. I quickly sped into the adjacent room; the library, flopped down into a leather armchair and grabbed the nearest book and pretended to read it.

Mother's footsteps passed the door and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I had time to reflect on what I had heard.

There was something about that letter that worried me as well as my parents. All I knew was that it was about a volcano that erupted in a strange manner two years ago. That it should be dragged up again now struck me as odd.

Other children might run to their parents, demanding to know what happened. Perhaps I'm not like other children; perhaps my parents aren't like other parents. I know what the answer would be if I asked my mother: a detailed explanation, an imperceptible change of subject and then I would be left knowing hardly anything more than before. It is an art, I think, to be able to avoid questions like that.

My father is less subtle. If there is a question that he doesn't how to answer, or whether to answer it at all, he goes red and refers me to Mother. They think I don't notice, but I do. Or perhaps, perhaps they do know that I know but they act as if they don't. In that respect they behave like my teachers. Professor Harker, for example, seems not to notice when Jack is obviously sucking a sugar quill or if the Peterson twins are passing notes. I mentioned that to Catherine once, perhaps unwisely for she is a teacher herself, and she replied with a hollow laugh, "Oh you think we don't notice!"

I know now that there are things my parents do not want me to know. For thirteen whole years I have ignored it, but I can do so no longer. How could I have been so ignorant!

Mother opened the library door. She had on a coat and was smiling. The brightness of said smile was not lost on me. "I'm going out for a bit, Cassandra. You'll be all right?"

"And Father?" I said in my stupidest tone.

"We're both going out," she replied. "We'll be back by lunch time at the latest. If you get lonely you can send Josie to the Weasleys. You could do some homework."

"I did it all in early July, as you know."

"Well, find a good book. The morning will fly away!" She started to close the door.

"I say Mother," I said suddenly, "Are you going to see Catherine by any chance?"

She paused and frowned, "Why do you ask? Do you want to speak to her?"

"Yes," I said firmly, "about a translation I was doing."

Mother smiled, "You'll see her at school. Now I really must go. Bye Cassandra."

I gave her a mock salute, "Salve, domina!"

She froze, "What was that?"

I smiled innocently, "Just saying goodbye in Latin."

She nodded, "Salve!" She closed the door quietly behind her. Immediately I started kicking the table and singing loudly, "Dom dom dom dom!"

The footsteps in the passage stopped and after a second's silence Mother called, "For goodness sake is that you, Cassandra? Stop that racket! You're making a noise fit to wake the dead! Act your age and settle to something!"

I sighed and pushed myself deeper into the leather armchair. I may not have learned much from that conversation, but it was interesting to see Mother's reactions to the words, 'Catherine, domina and 'dom''. I don't understand what my parents were talking about, but Catherine is connected with it and that surprises me. Catherine has a brain like a seive.

I looked at the book I had picked up. It was called, A Century of Magic- 1900 to 2000' by asorted authors. It was open right at the end. On the year 1999.

I was about to close it when a photo caught my attention; it was of my father as a teenager. He was dressed in scarlett quidditch robes and was looking shiftily from left to right and vice versa, as if in search of an escape route.

He wasn't alone in the photograph. On his right was another young man. He had olive skin, black hair and was scowling heavily. The object of his glare was on his left: my father. No wonder he wanted to be elsewhere! On his other side was a very handsome youth, smiling and wearing yellow quidditch robes. Seated below them was a girl and my eyes widened as I recognised her: Professor Delacour! She looked almost the same as now; just as beautiful. She tossed her hair at the handsome boy. Father pushed his glasses up his nose; they slipped straight down.

I looked at the caption. The 1999 Triwizard Champions taken after the second task. From left to right- Viktor Krum for Durmstrang, Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts and seated Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons.

So I read about the Triwizard Tournament of that year, about how the cup was a portkey, how Cedric Diggory was killed by Voldemort and how my father escaped through something called Priori Incantatem. I understand now why he doesn't talk about his schooldays much.

We returned to school two days ago. Everybody has been talking about the telescope. Snape took ten points off Gryffindor yesterday because Emilia and her friend Carmen picked a fight with Kirsty and Esmée about it. Don't we all hate Snape!

On Friday I had my first Arithmancy and Latin lessons. (I shan't have Experimental Charms until Tuesday.) We have Arithmancy with the Ravenclaws. They are very clever and we have to work hard. We were looking at some simple equations, like 7x + 5 = 40. Since I had studied my textbook in the holidays I found these child's play. Still, there was the pleasure in doing a completely new subject. I dare say the novelty will wear off soon enough.

Latin we have with the Slytherins which is enough to ruin anybody's day. In particular are the three Slytherin 'queens': Emilia Malfoy, Carmen Strutby and Emma Tiscali. Carmen and Emma merely fool around, but Emilia can be really malicious. They were quieter, however, after Catherine split them up, made Emilia sit in front of her desk and took a point off Slytherin. It was going to be a long year. The only good thing I could see about the arrangement of the class was that it meant that Emilia, Carmen and Emma are not in Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures Class. Somehow I think Professor Shortstraw is better suited for dealing with idiots. The lesson itself was interesting, if short.

I need not have worked myself up about Charlie's letter. Soon the contents were known to everybody. It was splattered across the front pages of every newspaper that a volcano had erupted in Romania filled with magical fire that seemed to have a mind of its own. 'But that's not possible, is it?' asks reporter Rita Skeeter of The Comet (with an incredulous smile I imagine). Two auror divisions under the respective commands of Sirius and Arabella Black were sent out to sort out the situation. ('How we misjudged that brave Sirius Black all those years ago. I've heard he's a brilliant auror, not to mention rather handsome! Such a disappointment for all us girls when he married!') Rita's articles are always entertaining, if a little exaggerated.

As far as I know my parents are still in England, but Ron and Lisa Weasley have gone. Ron is an auror and Lisa works as an interpreter.

I have been voted as quidditch captain for the junior team. I am very pleased. Xanthia has been made a prefect. Surprisingly she is quite happy about it. I think she's plotting something. That girl should pay more attention to her school work. She will do her OWLs at the end of this year. Edward is Head Boy so Catherine is very happy.

Saturday 10th September 2022, 12:45:59, Gryffindor Common Room

Xanthia was caught taking 200 points off a Slytherin first year for stepping on her toe by accident. She has had her prefect privileges removed for two weeks. Prof. Shortstraw very annoyed and gave us too much homework. Auror division still in Romania. Weather horrible.

Saturday 17th September 2022, 15:17:36, Gryffindor Common Room

We won the first quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor Juniors versus Ravenclaw Juniors. All the credit obviously goes to me as captain! I have sent Portia to Father to tell the good news. He was seeker and captain for Gryffindor as well.

France and England still at each other's throats. Unfortunately rising political tension does not affect school work. Whose brilliant idea was it to give us one week (ONE WEEK!) for a five foot long essay on 'Safety Precautions Before Investigations into New Charms' when he knows we have a quidditch match?? (Actually it was Professor Wilkins, our darling Experimental Charms teacher.) Felix is already muttering about wax models and drawing pins.

It is our first ever Hogsmeade weekend. Can I go when I've still got French, Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic and Latin to do? Answer: NO.

21:15:41

J'aimais tu aimais il/elle aimait amabamus amabatis amabant. Oh dear...

Tuesday 1st November 2022, 16:08:28, Gryffindor Common Room

The best about Halloween is that we don't get homework! Jack, Felix and Kim took me into Hogsmeade for the first time. We went to the joke shop with Jack to greet his uncles, then we visited the clothes shop, sweet shop, antique shop, Shrieking Shack and book shop. We wound up with a delicious butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks. I like Hogsmeade.

It was a good thing that the morning was so much fun, because the afternoon was rather tense.

Plenty of students went into the village yesterday and as we were walking back to the castle a group of girls of about our age passed us by. Felix looked back and nudged us. "Look at them! What do you think?"

Jack turned, nodded, went red and made an odd sound like 'Hmmmph'. It was my turn now. I too looked after. I couldn't think what they expected me to say. I frowned, "Well, I think they must be pretty stupid to wear such short skirts in such cold weather. They'll freeze!"

The two boys stared at me as if I was crazy. Suddenly Kim grabbed my arm so hard it hurt. "You think you're funny?" she hissed at me and yanked me towards the castle. I had never seen her so angry. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" she cried, addressing the boys. They ran to catch us up. I pulled my arm out of Kim's grip.

"What do you mean- what the hell do you think you were doing?" inquired Felix just as angrily.

"Girl gawking, of course! Why don't you get your telescope and really stare? As Cassie said they're wearing so little you'll be able to really-"

"But I wasn't-" interrupted Jack.

"And you can go to Down Under! And I wasn't referring to Australia!"

Jack shrugged and looked away. I bit my lip. There was an awkward silence. Kim seemed to have calmed down. At last she said quietly, "Felix, do you really think they were pretty?"

He shrugged, "Do you have a problem with that? Actually I did think they were pretty. It's only natural to think that! I'm thirteen, for heaven's sake! What do you want, Kim- that I should conceal all my feelings? You're not being very friendly or considerate in my opinion."

Kim burst into tears and ran off.

Felix looked after, pained. Jack looked blank, "What's bitten her?"

"I don't have the foggiest idea."

If Donna or Dora had been there they would have been able to supply a reason. "Raging hormones coursing through her cause unexpected tears and irrational mood swings." They know everything now that their father's girlfriend teaches sex education.

As it was, I said, "I think- I think she's jealous."

Felix looked astonished, "Jealous? But- but of what?"

"Er, of your saying you liked those girls."

"But you're not jealous, are you Cass?"

"Of course not!"

"Humph!" said Jack.

"Well!" Felix was flummoxed. "How odd! Girls do behave irrationally sometimes, don't they?"

I coughed loudly.

"I mean some girls. You're a sport, you are Cassie."

I decided, on reflection, that I'd rather be a sport than a girl, if the opinion of the latter state was so low. We went back to the castle. When we reached the Common Room I found Jill by the fire. I thought this business would be right up her street. I was right.

"But of course she was jealous!" she said wisely. "I wouldn't have gone so over the top myself, but I suppose she is only just confronting her feelings."

"Feelings? What feelings?"

"For Felix, of course!" she said as if it were obvious.

"You mean-"

"She fancies him! Well how did you expect it to end! She spends all her time with him- naturally she likes him!"

"But I spend a lot of my time with boys, and that doesn't mean I fancy any of them. Does it?"

Jill grinned, "Perhaps you'd better examine your feelings for those concerned very closely!"

I did, for about ten seconds, and came to the conclusion that I didn't fancy either Jack or Felix at all.

"I really can't imagine how you didn't notice!" Jill persisted.

"It just didn't occur to me."

"You do have your head in the clouds, don't you?"

"Jill!"

"Well, if you paid attention to what people say then you'd have known ages ago!"

"And what would I have known?"

"Why, the whole school's been saying for years that Felix Lorrimer and Kimberley Fortune are going out!" She stood up and wagged her finger at me, "You'll wake up sometime!" I was left with a vague feeling of inferiority.

Jill's place was taken by Xanthia, a prefect badge, a Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook and a highlighter. She worked for about three minutes then put down her book, looked me in the eye and said, "Cassandra, you look like distressed paintwork. What calamity has broken the serenity of your reflections?"

I told all. Xanthia listened wonderfully. She said, "Ooh", "aah" and "you don't say!" at exactly the right moments and subconsciously polished her prefect badge the whole time.

"The thing that is worrying me is, if all the school thinks this, how come I haven't heard a whisper? I'm not that deaf!" I finished.

"Better off deaf than- well anyway," she replied sharply. "Cassandra, what Jill means is that she has heard one or two people saying that there might be something between Kim and Felix that could develop in a year or two." She smiled at me in a way that reminded me greatly of her mother, not that I'd ever tell her that.

"You keep your own counsel, Cassie. Don't be influenced by anybody. Jill's an idiot. Harmless, but still an idiot. And don't forget this important piece of advice to help you get through this giant game of chance-"

"Yes?"

She gazed at me profoundly, "Life is a soap opera, Cassie."

Roll on the Christmas holidays.

Cassandra E. Potter

The Book

Tuesday, 27th September 2022, 20:38:05, The Guest Bedroom, Catherine's House, Chester

The holidays came, as they always do. And now they're going fast. I was not staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, as we were planning on having a quiet family celebration at home. Well, as for a 'quiet family celebration at home' I think we can wave goodbye to that! I'm at Chester, staying with Bill, Catherine, Edward and Xanthia Weasley. I've been here since the twenty-third. Mother and Father are in Athens doing heaven knows what and France and England have been as close to war since Napoleon's time. Mother has been in Big Trouble with the Ministry which has been also in Big Trouble with Mother. I don't quite know which is worse. All seems to be quietening down now, however. Unfortunately no one is telling me anything! I tried to nick Catherine's Daily Prophet but she saw me. "I have eyes in the back of my head thank-you very much I'll take that" was roughly what she said. This is how it started...

One of the main reasons I was coming home for the holidiays was because my parents wanted to take me to a political meeting on the twenty-third of December. The purpose of calling this meeting was to discuss how to sort out the rising tension between France and England and what was to be done with the telescope. Many parents had decided to take their children along, for the young people to get an idea of 'how a sensible, diplomatic discussion among mature adults takes place' to quote one idiot. Ha ha. I think I've got a pretty good idea now, and I have every intention for remaining thirteen for as long as possible.

The meeting was being held in a hall outside London. It was large, drafty and on the top of a hill. There was a graveyard nearby. Xanthia said later that it reminded her of something she had once read in a muggle horror story, Goosepimples or something like that. I don't go in for that sort of thing much.

The hall was packed, hot and I'd bet my bottom galleon that there was more carbon dioxide in it than there was oxygen. I saw the Weasleys dotted around the hall, visible by their hair. My Grandmother Lily was there with Sirius and Arabella Black, the famous aurors and I saw many other people who I either knew or had heard of.

I think the hall had once been used as a theatre since there was a stage at the front of the room. There was a table for the minister and seats also on the stage for Chalep's entourage. Mother disapproves of this almost secret, private organisation that Chalep has initiated. The meeting started promptly at seven o'clock. A tall woman in skimpy clothes came onto the stage and announced the wizards.

"Who's she?" I whispered to Father, on my right.

"Narcissa Malfoy," he hissed back, "Nero and Emilia's grandmother."

"Slut," said Mother on my left in a superior tone. Father laughed slightly.

Mrs. Malfoy introduced the men- for they were all men. I could see by the tightening of Mother's lips that this did not go down well.

"May I present our committee for this evening? We have here Mr. Adrian Pucey, Mr. Draco Malfoy, Mr. Mike Bletchley, Mr. Vincent Crabbe and Mr. Gregory Goyle. Finally here is the Minister himself, Mr. Laurence Chalep!"

There was thunderous applause. Mother quietly held her wand on her lap, looked at my father and almost grinned. Larry Chalep was about six foot, he was tanned, had freckles and bleached blond hair. He beamed at us and waved. His pale blue eyes glittered. He was really quite handsome.

"Did you know, Cassie," whispered my father, "that Chalep spends more money on hair products than your mother? He uses a bottle of Sleakeasy's a day."

"I'm not surprised."

Mother muttered, "All Slytherins." She glanced at my father, their eyes met and Mother raised her eyebrows.

The young couple in front of us turned round to shush us.

Larry Chalep introduced the meeting. "I am sure there is no need to state the problem that faces Britain today. As a conscientious wizard I feel myself called upon to address the issue as it has fallen to my lot to lead this state, something I am everso proud to attempt, when I was chosen to represent this country politically. Are we not one, the people and I? Indeed, I am only an ambassador, carrying your wishes to other nations."

Father's eyes glittered behind his glasses. Once again my parent's gaze locked above my head.

"The French have taken something that is rightfully ours. The issue is this: shall we let ourselves be outwitted by the selfish, irrational and childish whims of a country under a corrupt government? France has long wanted a way to revenge herself on our nation. For what, we may ask. The answer is glaringly obvious. Do we not have a more democratic country, more traditional customs and an older school? They are jealous! Yes- jealous!"

He went on in much the same strain. I watched the couple in the row in front tickling each other's ears. At last Chalep reached the point of the meeting. He made Malfoy read the plans he had made as to what should be done. They were very long and very complicated and contained detailed plans of auror divisions being subdivided and sent to get co-operation of German forces. There were plans put up on a board at the back of the hall. It all boiled down to military attack on Beauxbatons and the removal by force of the telescope. It did not look a very Good Idea at all to me.

The couple in front moved onto kissing. (Considering the anti-French theme of the meeting, I'm surprised they were not immediately accused of blasphemy, or perhaps mere lack of attention.) Dusk fell and the lights were turned on. I counted 128 floating candles. At last Chalep announced that he was holding a few minutes' break for us to discuss which plans we liked best and to collect our thoughts. (Plans? Were there more than one? I never noticed.)

The conversation started and the large echoey room soon reverberated with the sounds of many voices. Father turned to me with a wry smile, "Well, enjoying your first political meeting, Cassie?"

I yawned and grinned, "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock. About your bedtime."

"I was" -yawn- "becoming increasingly aware of that."

"I did notice you weren't concentrating all the time."

"Harry," said my mother. We turned to her. She was gripping the edges of her chair very hard; her knuckles were white. I could feel an odd electricity in the air.

My father let out a long sigh and finally said, "Are you... are you sure you want to do this?"

Mother's lips were pressed tightly together, and it seemed an effort for her to open them. "I know what you thought of Chalep's speech. Do you really think I could let it pass?"

He shook his head and his mouth turned up at the corners.

"I know-" she continued, "-I know what will happen but I'm willing to take the risk. I have enough supporters to know that we have a chance. I've faced worse before."

I wish I knew what they were talking about and I wish I wasn't sitting between them. Mother reminded me oddly enough of something the Dark Lord Grindalwald supposedly said while pacing up and down his dark and dismal dungeon in the Black Forest in a biography I'm reading of him- 'I haff meine supporters- with vun you haff keine chance- with backing the world is yours!' It's not a particularly good sign, I imagine, if your Mother reminds you of someone as particularly evil as Grindalwald was!

Father reached out and touched Mother's arm gently. It was a small sign, yet it was reassured me as well as it clearly did Mother. She smiled slightly and her gaze suddenly rested on me. She frowned, "Harry, don't you think Cassandra should-" She was interrupted. The platform party had returned and requested silence. She cast an agonized gaze at me and then turned her attention back to Narcissa Malfoy. (Lovely name, and so appropriate!)

"I hope you have had time to consider our proposals. Does anyone have anything to say?"

There was a rustling around the hall and there seemed to be a deliberation on who should speak first. It did not last long. Mother literally jumped up and stood in the middle of the hall. There was a ripple through the crowd as they saw who it was. There was a smattering of applause. Chalep and his followers looked noticeably miffed.

"Well, Lady Potter seems to be the spokeswoman for the occasion. Let us hear your opinion! What do you have to say? I trust you approve of the plans!" There was a snort of laughter coming from the other side of the hall. I may be mistaken, but it sounded very much like Ron Weasley to me.

"I do not!" Mother's sharp retort cut through the air like a knife. There was complete silence. The smile was visibly wiped off Mrs. Malfoy's face. Mother glanced at my father as if for reassurance.

"Ah!" said Mrs. Malfoy feebly. Leaning aganist the wall of the hall a tall blue eyed woman eyed the dialogue with interest.

Mr. Chalep jumped up, his face red and angry, "Really, Lady Potter this is too much! I don't think that you should be saying such things! Preposterous! Preposterous! Crabbe, Goyle- I order you to remove-"

"Mr. Chalep, consider!" The speaker was Draco Malfoy. I felt a shiver go up my spine. I had never heard him speak before. His voice was low and cold. He was the splitting image of his son; so much so that I thought it almost too good to be true (or should I say- too bad to be true?)

He touched the Mr. Chalep's arm gently to get his attention. His grey eyes raked across the hall till they met my mother's.

"Draco, what do you want to say? Her Ladyship cannot possibly have anything to say!"

Mother's hand tightened on the back of the chair in front (the couple had removed themselves at the break to continue their, ahem, pleasures elsewhere). Her cheeks glowed pink and, much as she tried to control it, her voice spiraled upwards as she spoke. "I most certainly do have something to say!"

"Oh God! Just don't lose your temper!" moaned Father, his head in his hands.

Draco Malfoy stood up slowly and deliberately. He paced to the front of the platform and stroked his chin in thought. Even from this far off I could tell he was enjoying his little drama very much. Just wish I was as well.

"Minister, listen a little to me. Perhaps we should ask her Ladyship what she has to say before we condemn her outright! She makes very convincing arguments." His voice dropped to a whisper, though such was the quiet of the hall that every syllable could be heard, "I know you of old, Potter, and I at least wish very much to hear what you have to say."

"Draco Malfoy!" cried Mother.

"Speak, Lady!" said Chalep. Malfoy sat down, contented for the time being at least.

Mother opened her mouth and spoke. She tried very hard to be non judgemental of the Minister but it was not possible for her to disguise the scorn in her voice. She protested, she said, against what the Ministry was doing. She said a lot else as well and though they listened intently, I could tell it was not going down too well. Father was biting his nails. She finished.

Immediately there was uproar. It took much shouting and red sparks from the platform party to restore order. In the middle of the confusion Mother had sat down. She leaned across me and whispered, "Was I all right?"

I nodded and yawned hard. Father grinned widely, "Simply perfect! Couldn't have said it better myself!"

"I wonder what they'll do," whispered Mother back.

Father squeezed her hand, "We'll soon find out!"

We did. Chalep had appointed a spokesman- Draco Malfoy. He stood up and cooly made his way to the front of the platform. Then he stopped and stared right at us. "Your Ladyship," he drawled, enjoying himself a great deal, "Our dear Minister has decided that from now on your priviledges as a member of the governing committee and as Head of the Department of International Magical Educational Schemes and Syllabuses will come to an end. You have two days to leave your office and find a replacement." He turned away smugly, but not before my father had jumped up and, pointing his finger at Malfoy in pure rage cried out, "Bastard! You'll pay for that, you will!" I sunk down in my chair, horribly embarrassed. From what I could see of my mother she was too.

"I can fight my own battles, Harry," she mouthed, thought the queer thing was that I did not see her lips move at all. Her voice seemed to come from very far away.

"Sorry, I over-reacted," replied my father sheepishly and I could have sworn his lips hadn't moved either. I shook my aching head to clear my mind of these bizarre impressions. What good would it serve either of my parents to use ventriloquism? The electricity I had felt before seemed to return even stronger this time. Odd that electricity is such a physical force, since there seemed to be much chemistry surrounding us as well.

After my father's outburst there was pandemonium. People had jumped up from their seats; some were clapping, others shouting and waving their fists. Quite an elderly man had Father in a headlock. Mother whipped out her wand faster than a bewitched bludger and cried, "Expelliamus!" The man shot into the back wall with great force. Mother clapped her hands to her mouth, "Oops! Must have put too much feeling into that charm!"

"Behind you!" I yelled, seeing a woman with a face like a banshee push a chair back and lean towards Mother with her wand outstretched. Mother aimed a stunning spell behind her back. "Harry- do something with Cassandra!" she screamed over the shouting.

"Do something with her yourself!" replied my father waspishly. He was dueling with someone who looked like a professional thug with one arm, and elbowing another man in stomach with his other.

I had pulled out my wand and sat clutching my chair, trying hard not to be noticed. If I could have, I would have run away. The chairs had been cleared away randomly to make room for the fighting. I looked at the platform, which seemed in just as much disaray as the rest of the hall. Larry Chalep, I noted, seemed to have disappeared.

Mother was standing on a lone chair in the middle of the hall, brow furrowed in concentration, shooting charms and hexes in all directions. Father seemed to be involved in a much more down to earth fist fight. I saw Draco Malfoy push through the crowd and drag my father away from his attackers.

"Bit of a misjudgement on her Ladyship's part wasn't that?" he said. "Just can't keep her temper, can she? Neither can you, for that matter. What a wonderful pair you make!"

Father glared at Malfoy for a few seconds. He seemed to be weighing up his chances. At last he said, "Malfoy, there's something I've been wanting to do for ages." So saying, he punched Mr. Malfoy on the nose! I almost cheered, only someone seemed to have noticed me.

"Oh look! It's the little heiress! Look who'll get the galleons if her parents 'happen' to die! Ready to duel, Miss? I heard you were top of your class. You going to prove it?" He was an unpleasant looking fellow, and a good deal larger than me.

I almost considered turning down the challenge, but then I remembered that I was a Gryffindor, that I was Harry Potter's daughter and that I actually wouldn't mind trying out what I had learnt in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Then one of the man's friends said, "Aw, leave her, Spike. She's only a kid!"

That did it! I jumped up, flicked my hair out of my face and stood in the ready dueling position. I adapted my voice into the one that annoys Nero and Emilia Malfoy the most. "Actually, you know Spike, I am top of my class. How clever of you to find it out! I'm perfectly ready to prove myself."

He appeared taken aback, yet maintained eye contact with me as we circled. I had no idea what my parents were doing, or even where they were.

I was just about to fire my first spell when a hand grabbed my wrist from behind me. I let out a small scream. Spike yelled, "Here where do you think you're going, Potter?! You promised me a duel!"

The hand dragged me through the fighting crowd. "Let go of me!" I cried. I had a duel to finish or my honour as a witch would be damaged. Still, he was too strong. He pulled me out of the hall, through the vestibule and into a crisp, clear, cold winter's night. Eventually he let me go, once the door was shut behind us. It was Nero Malfoy.

"You- you!" Words failed me, I was so angry. I glared down at the red lines on my left wrist where his fingers had dug into my skin. I shook my arm in his face, "Look! Look what you did to me! How dare you! It hurts! Just look at it!"

"How can I look when you're shaking it so hard?" He grasped my hand again and stilled it. For a slender fourteen year old, he was pretty strong.

"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

What a question! He almost looked concerned. Luckily I was not taken in. He was trying to get me off my guard and then jump me.

"Yes, it did hurt, actually! What did you mean by dragging me out like that?"

"That hall's no place for someone like you."

I was growing angrier by the second. "What sort of a sexist comment is that? Did you see my mother? dealing with five thugs at the same time?"

"That man who challenged you, Spike, do you know who he is?"

How Malfoy could be keeping calm and cool like he was beyond me. "No, do I care?"

"You should. He's a trained assassin. He works for my dad."

The news gave me a slight shock; I had definitely not acted wisely. Still, I'd never let that on to Malfoy. "Says something about your family, doesn't it?" Nero flushed. "My father punched yours. Your father has to hire people to do his dirty work for him, my father fights his own battles. I don't appreciate your interference in my life- I can manage perfectly well without your help and nonsensical ideas of saving my life or whatever you thought you were doing." Inspiration hit me- "You're just scared yourself so you got yourself out by pretending to save me." I smiled triumphantly. I was right, of course.

Nero seemed to have eventually lost his cool. "Your wrong, Potter. If you can't see why I did it then you're blinder than I thought. Go back to your mudblood loving parents-"

I saw red, pulled out my wand and dashed at him, "DO NOT INSULT MY PARENTS! THEY ARE WORTH TWENTY OF YOURS!! YOUR MUM WASN'T EVEN AT THE BLASTED MEETING!"

He grabbed my wrist to stop me cursing him, "Don't say that about my mother!"

We struggled outside while our parents struggled inside. Eventually, when I thought I was getting the better of him I panted, "I'm going back inside to fight Spike and you can't stop me!" Somehow I found I had been pushed against the wall. I tried to pull Nero's wrists off mine. I was very out of breath.

"I can and will!" he hissed, his face a bare few inches away from mine.

The door opened and Catherine Shortstraw appeared into the night. She saw me immediately, "Cassandra!"

Malfoy let go of my wrists and jumped about a metre back. "Nero!" Catherine said in equal surprise. She walked quickly towards us and glanced at each of us in turn. "Now, what's been going on here? That you want to tell me about, that it," she added. She sent a somewhat confused look towards me. I was too out of breath to answer and I was nursing my arms.

Nero answered smoothly, though he too seemed a little puffed, "Cassandra was being attacked by a very dangerous man. I brought her out here."

My godmother's eyes lighted up for a second, "That seems very sensible, Nero. I shall talk to you about who that person was when we return to school."

He nodded, "Yes, Professor."

"Thank-you again, Nero. Now, Cassandra, I think you'd better come with me." She put her arm around me and steered me towards the dark blob in the distance that was the car park. I felt overcome with exhaustion. "I'm glad you came," I muttered. I did not look back at Malfoy.

Catherine and I walked in silence for a bit then out of the blue she asked, seemingly embarassed, "You and Nero, you were, er...er..."

"Fighting, you mean? Yes, of course we were! What did you think we were doing? Drinking tea?!"

Catherine looked relieved and even more embarrassed, but would not enlighten me.

We found Catherine's dark green Ford Weasley and she put me in the front. I felt exhausted and did not ask any questions except, as she started the engine, "Where are we going?"

"Home," she replied, almost backing into another car, "Have a mint imperial. They're in the glove rack."

I helped myself and leaned back on the beige leather seats. "Catherine," I asked, feeling stupid, "What about Bill and Edward and Xanthia? How will they get home?"

"They'll take floo powder, or they'll stay the night with Ron's family." She was still talking in that calm, gentle tone. If I had been a little more awake I would have heard the anxiety behind it.

The car lifted smoothly off the ground and rose above the roofs of the houses. I sucked my mint, "Are we going to your house?"

She nodded.

"What about Mother and Father?"

"Never mind. Just sleep." She turned on the heating, the car's engine melted into the background and that was the last I remember.

~~*~~

A/N: First of all, thanks to Neha dkulkarni, Dan (GryffinsEye), Katzgirl7, Kiz Malfoy, vmarc9 for reviewing. I really, really appreciate it! I know other people are reading the story (i.e. the Fellowship of the Pumpkin, mentioning no names) so perhaps you could drop a line. It doesn't take a second, and it gives you more posts to aquire that wonderful avatar!!

Chapter Five: A special Christmas edition, coming up in the beginning of Advent, featuring parties, an air hostess, dreams and a funny birthday present.

Don't forget- the yahoo group is at this address! As always, I'm looking for fan artists. If you're inspired by this story, or the prequal, then Private Owl or e-mail me.

See you next chapter!

~Silvestria~