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 38: The Preparation
"Balderdash!" Cassie gasped at the Fat Lady, who was snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole.
"If you say so," she muttered sleepily, without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit him.
Harry and Cassie climbed inside. The common room was deserted, and, judging by the fact that it smelled quite normal, Hermione had not needed to set off any Dungbombs to ensure that they and Sirius got privacy.
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off of them and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire while Cassie sat on the ground in front of the fire. The room was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER REALLY STINKS.
Cassie looked back into the flames, and jumped. Sirius's head was sitting in the fire. Although this was normal for Cassie, if Harry hadn't seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys' kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits.
Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he had worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth next to Cassie, and said, "Sirius — how're you doing?"
"Hi, Dad," said Cassie, smiling into the fire.
"Hi princess, how are you?" said Sirius to Cassie.
"I'm good, how are things back at home?" Cassie said.
"Good, Kreacher won't shut up and neither will my mother but all is well, now," said Sirius. "How are you, Harry?"
"I'm —" For a second, Harry tried to say "fine" — but he couldn't do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he'd talked in days — about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at — and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron's jealousy . . . ". . . and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner," he finished desperately.
"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here . . . I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."
"What?" said Harry, feeling his spirits slip a further few notches. . . . Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming?
"Karkaroff," said Sirius. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"
"Yes — he — what?"
"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."
