Cassiopeia Hope Black is the daughter of the crazed mass murderer, Sirius Black.
Follow Cassie through her teenage years where she battles love, drama, and Voldemort.
Get ready for some twists.
I just want to say that I wrote this in the eighth gr...
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Chapter 27: The Dress Robes
Sirius woke Cassie after only a few hours of sleep. He and Arthur used magic to pack up the tents, and they left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."
"He'll be all right," said Arthur quietly as they marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while . . . and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."
They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when they reached it, they found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible.
Arthur had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.
They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their breakfast.
As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane and a bright blur of yellow.
Vienna ran and jumped on Cassie.
"I missed you too," she said, hugging the dog.
"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Molly, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. "Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —"
She flung her arms around Arthur's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground.
Looking down, Cassie saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black and white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.
"You're all right," Molly muttered distractedly, releasing Arthur and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive. . . . Oh boys . . ."
And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.
"Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —"
"I shouted at you before you left!" Molly said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh, Fred . . . George . . ."
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Arthur soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house.
"Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. . . ."
