GAMES OF FATES (H.P/T.M.R)

the rescue

Cassopiea’s consciousness fluttered back to life, like a delicate moth struggling against the darkness. Her senses were overwhelmed by a disorienting sensation, as though she were being pulled through a constricting tunnel. Desperate, she fought to cling to the fragments of reality, her will against the relentless void. Her struggle was futile, as the darkness tried to reclaim her, but she managed to pull through.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar room filled with the heavy scent of aged leather and old wood. The decor spoke of old wealth and the subtle elegance of a bygone era, a room that seemed to belong to a bygone Slytherin, its dark tones contrasting with the light she desperately needed. 

 

Sirius Black’s face was the first thing she saw, hovering over her with a look of deep concern. Relief flooded her, her heart clenching at the sight of the familiar, comforting figure.

 

“Siri?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

 

"Yes, Bambi, I am right here!” Sirius said, his hand gently brushing through her hair, a gesture full of tenderness. His presence was a lifeline, a reminder that she was not alone in this dark moment.

 

Her mind was clouded with dread as she remembered the reason for her agony. “My... baby?” she asked, her voice cracking with fear and uncertainty.

 

Sirius looked at her, confusion and concern mingling in his eyes. “What baby?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

 

Cassopiea tried to sit up, but her body protested, each movement reminding her of the pain and trauma she had endured. She winced as she struggled, her hands instinctively moving to protect her midsection. Tears began to flow freely. “Don’t hate me, please!” she begged, her voice trembling with anguish.

 

Sirius’s expression softened, though his eyes remained troubled. “Baby... please tell me what happened?” he urged gently, his voice coaxing her to reveal the truth.

 

Through her tears, she managed to say, “I’m pregnant, Siri!” Her voice broke as she sobbed, “Is my child okay?”

 

Sirius, though shaken, acted quickly. “Wait here. I’ll cast a diagnostic charm.” He raised his wand and muttered the incantation. The charm revealed the child was safe but distressed, a small relief in the storm of her despair.

 

Sirius looked at her, his expression a mixture of shock and concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

 

Cassopiea’s sobs grew more intense as she began to recount the horror she had faced. “It all started after Cedric died,” she began, her voice breaking with each word. “I was taken to the graveyard, and—” Her voice faltered as she relived the nightmare. “They used my blood to bring him back...”

 

She continued to recount the cruelty she had endured, the torture, and the mocking laughter of those who had watched her suffer. Her voice wavered as she spoke of the pain and the darkness that had nearly claimed her life. She described the terror of being choked by Vernon, the howler announcing her expulsion from Hogwarts, and the crushing weight of despair she felt as darkness closed in.

 

As she finished her harrowing tale, she broke down in Sirius’s arms. Her cries were raw, filled with the pain of betrayal, loss, and fear for her child’s future. Sirius held her tightly, offering what comfort he could, his own heart aching for her suffering.

 

“I’m so sorry, Pia,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the harsh reality. “We’ll get through this. You and your child will be safe here.”

 

In his embrace, Cassopiea found a fragile hope, a small flicker of light amidst the overwhelming darkness. Though the road ahead was uncertain and fraught with peril, the warmth of Sirius’s arms and the promise of safety at Grimmauld Place provided a temporary respite from her fears.

 

Cassopiea slowly attempted to rise from the bed, her body protesting with every movement. The pain from her bruises and the emotional turmoil made it difficult to focus. Yet, determination outweighed her physical discomfort as she walked, albeit with a slight limp, through the rooms of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

 

As she moved about, the enormity of her situation began to weigh heavily on her. She stumbled into the room where Ron and Hermione were discussing something in hushed tones. The sight of them—her closest friends—brought a fresh wave of emotions. Her heart raced, a mixture of anger and betrayal bubbling to the surface.

 

“Pia!” Hermione exclaimed, rushing to pull her into a hug with concern etched on her face. Ron followed, his expression a mix of guilt and apprehension.

 

Cassopiea’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she struggled to compose herself. “Why didn’t you write to me?” she demanded, her voice trembling with both pain and anger. “I was left there to suffer, and you’ve been here all summer?”

 

Ron’s face fell, his guilt palpable. “We didn’t know,” he began, his voice strained. “We thought—”

 

“You thought what?” Cassopiea cut him off sharply. “That I’d be fine on my own? That I could handle everything? Couldn't you write just once, while you were here, safe and sound? Did you even think about what I was going through?”

 

Hermione stepped forward, her eyes filled with sorrow. “We had no idea it was that bad. We tried to get in touch, but Dumbledore told us it we shouldn't. He said it was better if we didn’t—”

 

“Didn’t what?” Cassopiea’s voice rose with frustration. “Didn’t try to help me? Didn’t want to know what was happening? I was left alone in that hell, and you were living comfortably here. Do you have any idea what it was like? The pain and the fear?”

 

Hermione looked down, her expression pained. “We were kept in the dark. We didn’t know how bad things had gotten. We were trying to follow the rules, to do what was asked of us. I’m so sorry, Pia. We should have done more.” Pia just stormed off not wanting to hear anymore of their bullshit.