Blood Magic ✤ George Weasley ✓

15 - Family Matters

musical mood: the last great american dynasty - taylor swift

Apparently, being poisoned and subsequently rendered unconscious for three months was a lot to recover from, even with countless magical remedies. Cass found herself ailed with aches and pains all over her body through the last few days at Hogwarts - though luckily, her professors let her off the hook for everything she had missed, even Snape, though she suspected not by his own will. Someone else probably made him. Maybe the Professors felt the need to make it up to her - standing by while their co-worker to nearly murder a twelve year old certainly wasn't something they'd want weighing on their conscious, even if it wasn't their fault.

The train ride back to Kings Cross was uneventful. She spent most of it reading the book gifted to her by George and Fred - no one else seemed to know what to talk about. Even talkative Naia was speechless on the ride back home. Cass liked it that way, she had no desire to speak of what happened, and was thankful none of her friends did either.

By the time she found Winky hidden in the crowd of parents waiting to pick up their children, and was apparated back to Stromness, the sun was beginning to set, and aches shot through her bones once again. Her father, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and had she not been in so much pain, Cass would've kicked something. He didn't visit her when she had woken up, after being on her deathbed, nor had he even sent something material such as flowers. Heck, Cedric Diggory gave her a bloody bouquet of roses, and she barely knew him!

Ana insisted he had been there when the news first got out about her poisoning, and he'd seemed really concerned, but Cass doubted that. She was probably just trying to make her feel better, and Cass couldn't fault her for that. Bloody Ana. Truly, how was she so damn sweet?

Her summer was spent as they usually were - hoping between spending time with Connor, and reading in her room. Bartemius was rarely home, and Winky seemed overwhelmed with whatever it was she did, which would've left Cass a perfect opportunity to read the apparently illegal Blood Magic, but instead, she kept it buried in the bottom of her trunk. Quirrell was the last thing she wanted to think about, and that book, along with the polaroids and letters, were certainly not going to help her forget. So, away they went. Out of sight, out of mind.

Instead, she found herself diving into all the books on potions she could get her hands on, which was a lot. She was already one of, if not the best in her year in the subject, but clearly that meant nothing if she couldn't even recognize a poison being slipped to her.

She learned that an amateur Veritaserum would have a slight lemon smell, that a stone from a goat's stomach called a bezoar could save your life from nearly any poison, and that it was often impossible to trace a poison back to the person who brewed it, making remote assassinations relatively easy. Cass decided she'd carry bezoar around wherever she went - once she found out where to get one, that is, given their rarity.

Hopefully, until then, there'd be no more attempts on her life. She couldn't imagine there would be, but it didn't shake her paranoia. Some of the effects still hadn't worn off, and Cass began to fear they never would. Her voice, which had previously been smooth and clear, was now deep and raspy, like a middle-aged cigarette addict might sound. She had a new scar too, a long, thick one on the left side of her forehead, where she had scraped it against Myrtle's stupid sink.

Nothing felt more awful than the emotional scars left, though. Cass fell into a cycle of blaming everyone around her, then blaming herself, then pretending she wasn't bothered at all, then remembering everything, the emotions behind it all, and repeating the cycle all over again. She wanted to blame Quirrell - and she did, partially. Even if he had been possessed by The Voice, he had apparently made some sort of deal with it, meaning his actions couldn't have been entirely unwilling. She blamed her father, too. Of course, it had never been confirmed, but she was certain he had been acting so weird the year prior because of Quirrell - there was no other explanation she could think of, at least. None that she wanted to dwell on, not now. What kind of father would allow his daughter to be around a man like that?