ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ; ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵘˢ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ

031 - Whistle Blower

Everything seemed so far away to the girl; the gentle, rolling hills, the lush, green grass, the sparse, leaf-laden trees, and even the occasional countryside boulder seemed so very distant to her. Though the sun was shining, and though her mood was rather positive, Cassiopeia felt the train ride to Hogwarts was much the same as it had been the previous year. She felt alone, yet the girl was not at all lonely; not truly.

'Will we ever speak again, dear cousin?' she silently mused, and glancing up at a dense, white cloud above, one that was free of shadowy figures flitting in and out of its massive structure, the girl imagined her cousin's fine features looking back at her, cold and somehow distant.

Their talk 'that' night had been free of anything that could be misconstrued as light or gratifying, and whilst the girl was happy he'd seemingly taken the confession of her encounter with Sirius Black atop his towering prison well, something had become quite off in the days following their forced chat.

Letting loose a gentle sigh, one that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, Cassiopeia sent a glance towards the compartment door as it slid open, only for the girl to release another sigh, this time in exasperation.

"Another letter, then?" she asked, allowing a frown to mar her face, which only seemed to increase the intensity of Potter's grinning features.

"Not this time," he simply replied, and taking a seat across from her, he let out a sigh of his own and rubbed at his temples, which pushed aside his wild, black hair, which, in turn, revealed to her the feature the boy was most renowned for.

"Is it always that...sore-looking?" the girl curiously queried without truly meaning to.

"Huh?" he intelligently asked.

"Your scar, Potter," she elaborated, her expression turning as deadpan as could be. "Is it always that angry-red?"

"Oh, uh...no, it's just been...hurting lately for some reason," he responded, his tone as quiet as it was awkward-sounding, indicating, to the girl, that he was lying in some way for a reason that resided beyond her understanding.

"I see," she simply, indifferently said, unconcerned with whatever it was he didn't want to elaborate on, though, with that query gone from her mind, Cassiopeia became acutely aware of something far more important that had yet to be addressed. "Potter, if not to deliver another letter, why, precisely, are you here?"

"I can't come say hello?" he jokingly replied, which caused the girl to send him another frown, which, in turn, renewed his earlier grin. "By the way, good afternoon, Cass."

The girl narrowed her eyes at his inappropriate way of greeting her, which only seemed to brighten his features a tad bit more.

"Good afternoon, Potter," she politely drawled, placing extreme emphasis upon his surname, certain he'd take to the point as a fish took to water.

"So, how's the last week been for you, Cass?" he lightly queried, ignoring her point outright.

'Why does he use my first name, and a shortened version of it, no less? Is it to beckon a reaction from me? Is he here merely to tease and taunt me?' the girl silently wondered to herself, certain that the boy before her, a true Gryffindor through and through, had no such petty and mean-spirited inclination.

"But you're my godfather, Sirius!"

"Potter, why, precisely, are you here?" the girl quietly inquired, her expression turning blank as he frowned seemingly in thought.

"I kind of just wanted to come say hi," he just-as-quietly replied.

"Why?" she coolly continued.

"I just...wanted to, Cass," was his simple response, and had Cassiopeia not been taught, quite proficiently, how to read others, she would've thought him an expert at the fine craft of lying.

"Why do you call me by name in private?" she questioned, knowing that if his motive truly was so simple, then there was reason for it, and Cassiopeia felt certain she knew what that reason happened to be. "Why do you act so amiable towards me, Potter?"

The scarred child seated before her deepened his frown, yet his lips did not part, and had the girl been raised in a different house by different kin, she might not have felt so pessimistic by his lack of reply. But the fact was that Cassiopeia was a Black, through and through, and the girl knew there was, in fact, a reply to be found, even if it came not through delicate ear.

"Do you feel something towards me that you, perhaps, shouldn't?" she quietly queried, watching as his expression turned a tad more negative. "Something for a reason that simply does not, and cannot, exist?"

'We're not kin, Potter, and you should understand this better than most. Sirius Black and I are bound by blood and nothing more,' the girl silently thought to herself, almost tempted to say such aloud.

"What...if I do...?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper that Cassiopeia could barely hear.

"It shall never be, Potter, as we live within very different worlds. Worlds that dictate obligations and vastly different standards that you seemingly cannot comprehend," she quietly replied, watching as the boy's eyes dimmed at her denial of his fantasy-made friendship between the pair, and she decided it was now necessary to state the obvious as a final hot ember to turn his hope into lame ash. "Sirius Black and I are not kin, and the very thought of you latching onto me as though we were siblings because of your relationship with the man offends me to no end, Potter."

Cassiopeia expected his hope to evaporate entirely with her final, conclusive statement, but to her utter shock, his expression instead morphed into confusion, only for said confusion to swiftly shift into understanding and, for some bizarre reason, relief, if she wasn't reading the scarred child wrong.

"Have a good ride, Cass," he lightheartedly said, showing her, once more, a bright grin, which perplexed the girl immensely.

Standing, he turned and left her compartment without another word or a single glance back, and Cassiopeia suddenly felt as though she was the fish who hadn't quite taken to water.