Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Lᴏʀᴅ's Aɴɢᴇʟ | Tom Riddle √

64: A Visit from the Headmaster

"Give her this potion to get the strength, do you understand?"

Cassiopeia's consciousness gradually returned, her ears picking up a familiar, sharp voice. She tried to open her eyes but found it difficult.

"Yes, Mr. Snape," Kreacher replied in hushed tones.

"Mind explaining what happened, Kreacher?" Severus Snape inquired.

"Bellatrix Lestrange attacked my mistress, Mr. Snape, and Miss. Arctula ordered Kreacher to call Mr. Snape," the elf replied, offering a half-truth.

Cassiopeia's eyes slowly opened, her vision blurry at first. She closed and opened them again to see Snape's imposing figure in the room.

"Miss. Black," Snape addressed her as she struggled to sit up on the bed.

"Professor!" Cassiopeia attempted to rise but fell back, weakened.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked casually.

"Better but exhausted," she sighed, taking in her surroundings. She couldn't help but wonder where Tom had gone.

"I hope you're aware that Hogwarts began a month ago," Snape remarked ironically, prompting Cassiopeia to swallow hard, not quite sure how to respond.

"Ye—yeah, but..." she began, but her words were cut off as Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway of her room, taking her by surprise.

"Severus, let me talk to her alone," Dumbledore said, and both Kreacher and Snape left, closing the door behind them.

Cassiopeia sat up in bed, trying her best to gather her thoughts as she leaned against the headboard.

"Professor, I'm sorry for not attending school," she blurted out, anticipating it would be one of the first things Dumbledore would mention.

"Cassiopeia, are you alright?" Dumbledore inquired kindly, and Cassiopeia nodded. "I understand that it's been a challenging time for you, and it still is. I can relate to the feelings you have for Tom; I, too, was once your age."

Nervously, Cassiopeia tried to maintain eye contact as the headmaster continued.

"It's difficult to bear everything alone. You could have talked to your friends instead of isolating yourself at home, turning to unhelpful distractions," Dumbledore advised. "Firewhiskey and Muggle cigarettes won't help ease the pain within you, my child."

Cassiopeia's eyes furrowed in confusion, wondering how Dumbledore was aware of her actions. She considered the possibility that he had visited her home or that Kreacher had informed him.

"I'm fine now, Professor," she replied, realizing that staying silent wouldn't be helpful. "Honestly, I needed some space."

"Then I hope you'll return to Hogwarts soon," Dumbledore said, studying her with narrowed eyes. Cassiopeia nodded, offering a small smile.

"I think you'll be in for a surprise in your favorite subject," he added cryptically.

"A surprise in Potions?" Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow as Dumbledore winked, leaving her curious about what he meant.

Dumbledore stood up and patted her head. "You'll see. Hogwarts is waiting for you."

"Please convey my thanks to Professor Snape for healing me," Cassiopeia said. Dumbledore nodded and left her alone.

She remained seated on her bed for a good fifteen minutes, feeling too weak to move without exhaustion.

Cassiopeia wondered what had happened to Tom. Did he leave her, as her mind questioned, despite his promise? Breathing heavily, she carefully stood up and relied on the footboard of the bed for support. She took one step at a time, her body feeling weak.

One more move, she told herself.

As she stood, she sighed, realizing the extent of her weakness. The spell that had hit her had left her feeling like death had attacked her. Now, her main concern was how she would find support to walk, as she scanned the room for something to hold onto if she lost her balance.

Just as she was about to take slow steps toward the door, Tom entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"You should rest, silly," he said, walking toward her, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "I said I won't leave."

Tom noticed the questioning expression on her face and lifted her up in a bridal style, gently placing her back on the bed.

"I wanted to walk," Cassiopeia pouted as she lay on the bed, sitting up slowly and leaning her back against the headboard. "You ruined it."

"First, have your medications," Tom suggested, looking at the bottles on the nightstand.

Cassiopeia inquired, "Where were you all the time?"

"I locked myself in Sirius's room when Albus got here," Tom replied. "I didn't expect him to visit you."

"Neither did I," Cassiopeia shrugged.

Tom selected a bottle and added three drops to a glass of water on the nightstand. Cassiopeia wasn't sure what it would taste like.

"Here, drink," he offered the glass, and she took it, casting suspicious glances at the liquid inside.

She looked at Tom for reassurance, and he nodded, encouraging her to drink. Hesitantly, she took a large sip, closing her eyes.

"Urghhh," she groaned at the bitter taste, forcing it down her throat. "It's not sweet, I can't."

"No, you should," Tom insisted, raising an eyebrow. Cassiopeia's puppy-dog eyes didn't change his mind. "Drink, drink. I'm watching you."

Cassiopeia grumbled under her breath, "F*** you," and reluctantly gulped down the liquid in one shot, handing him the empty glass. Her face contorted into a disgusted expression.

"I'll do it later if that's what you want," Tom smirked down at her, taking the glass.

Cassiopeia's cheeks flushed at the thought, but she quickly shrugged it off before other memories flooded her mind.

"How long was I unconscious like this?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well, twelve hours," Tom answered, simply sitting on the bed. "Now, it's six in the morning, you know."

"Seriously?" Cassiopeia gasped. "At least it wasn't four days like before."

She sighed, remembering the terrible dreams she had during those four days.

"Four days?" Tom's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, at the end of the fourth year, when I heard Voldemort's return, I had a panic attack that left me unconscious for four days," Cassiopeia explained, and Tom nodded in silence.

"Why did you panic?" he wondered, watching her closely.

"Guess I couldn't handle what was in my head, like the person you like most returning as a different person; it was just too much to handle, maybe," she shrugged her shoulders.

"By the way, has Kreacher prepared breakfast?" Cassiopeia quickly asked, noticing Tom's nervousness.

"Yeah, I'll bring it, wa—"

"No, no. I want to go down. Please!" she begged, her puppy-dog eyes pleading.

Tom chuckled at her behavior and gave in, tilting his head for her to come. Cassiopeia rejoiced and carefully got down from the bed. She felt like she was slowly regaining her strength after having the medication.

She reached out and took Tom's hand without hesitation, and together, they descended the stairs, their hands intertwined.

Finally, Cassiopeia began to enjoy her life.