The Weight of Shadows

Chapter 4 - The Longest Night and the Road to Hogwarts

The night before September 1st was never meant to be peaceful. Cassiopeia knew this as she sat rigid on her bed, her fingers tracing the smooth wood of her wand, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. Her breath caught in her throat, and she pushed her fears deep into the recesses of her mind. She was no stranger to fear or pain—it had become a constant companion since she could remember—but tonight, the dread gnawed at her differently.

Downstairs, the sharp, clipped voices of her parents echoed through the halls of Grimmauld Place. They were always formal, always cold, always detached. Tonight, however, the air felt thicker, heavier. Her mother's shrill tones cut through the house like a blade, and she knew, deep in her bones, that the night's routine was coming.

Her door creaked open, and the shadows shifted as Walburga Black stood in the doorway, her gaze sharp, her lips thin with disapproval.

"It's time," her mother's voice snapped like a whip. There was no warmth in her tone, no motherly affection, only a command.

Cassiopeia nodded, rising silently from the bed, her body tensing. She followed her mother down the cold, winding staircase, each step heavier than the last. The drawing room was dimly lit by flickering candlelight, casting eerie shadows across the dark walls. Her father sat in his chair, wand in hand, the tip glinting menacingly in the darkness. He was waiting.

"You've been practicing, haven't you, Cassiopeia?" Orion Black's voice was as smooth as silk, but it held the same cold, calculating edge it always did. He didn't bother looking at her as he spoke, his attention still on the wand in his hand.

"Yes, Father," Cassiopeia whispered, keeping her gaze on the floor, bracing herself for what was to come. Her voice was steady, but inside, her nerves were fraying.

"Good. You will need it."

He stood, raising his wand almost lazily, as if what was about to happen was of no consequence to him. He was always like this—detached, indifferent to the pain he inflicted. Cassiopeia barely had time to react before the first curse was sent flying.

"Crucio."

The pain hit her like a tidal wave, searing through every nerve in her body. It was fire, ice, and steel all at once, ripping through her muscles, twisting her bones. She fell to the floor, her body writhing uncontrollably, every inch of her screaming in agony. She tried to keep her mouth shut, to stifle the scream that was clawing its way up her throat, but she couldn't. A strangled cry escaped her lips, the sound barely audible over the roaring in her ears.

"Get up!" Orion's voice snapped, cutting through the haze of pain like a knife. "You are a Black. Act like one."

Cassiopeia gasped for breath, her vision swimming as she forced her body to move. Her limbs shook violently as she struggled to her knees, the pain still burning through her veins like poison. She could barely stand, but she did it. She stood. She had to. She wouldn't break, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

Orion didn't hesitate. Another curse flew from his wand, striking her square in the chest. Her vision went black for a moment, and when she came to, she was on the floor again, her body twitching involuntarily. She couldn't breathe—every inhale was a jagged rasp, and her heart pounded erratically in her chest. But she pushed herself up again, her resolve stronger than the pain. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken.

The torture went on for what felt like hours. Spell after spell was cast, each one more excruciating than the last. Cassiopeia's world had shrunk to nothing but pain and survival. Her mind drifted to Sirius and Regulus, her brothers—her only light in this dark world. She had to endure for them. She had made a vow to protect them, and she couldn't break. Not now. Not ever.