Remember Me

Cassandra struggled, but her captor was holding her tightly. Her cheek felt warm and sticky. Her oak and phoenix feather wand lay on the floor where she had dropped in and a short wand was pointing at her throat.

Please don’t let Harry come out, she thought desperately, but she knew he would. He wouldn’t have the sense to stay hidden and run away.

Harry straightened up and walked slowly over to the Death Eater holding her. Please run, Harry.

“Drop your wand.”

“Don’t you dare, Potter!” Cassandra said threateningly. The Death Eater pulled at her hair savagely.

Harry didn’t move, frozen to the spot.

“Drop it!”

Harry’s bright green eyes found her fiery grey ones and didn’t move.

The Death Eater slashed his wand and Cassandra felt another deep gash appear in her face, spilling blood over her cheek and she gasped from the pain.

“Don’t hurt her!” Harry yelled, but he dropped his wand, letting it clatter to the floor and slowly raised his hands to shoulder height.

“Good,” smiled the Death Eater slowly. “Very good…Rowle! I’ve got him! I’ve got Potter!”

The battle was still going on behind them, flashes of light through the smoke. Cassandra caught a glimpse of red hair and thought of Ron, wishing someone could come over now, see what was happening, stop it… Let Dumbledore come, she thought desperately. Please let someone come. But no one did apart from the great blond Death Eater who peered at Harry.

“It’s him, Jugson.”

“Incarcerous!”

Thin black ropes flew out of Jugson’s wand and wrapped themselves around Harry, who stumbled, not expecting it, and fell face-forward, hard onto the floor. Cassandra winced at the crack that seemed to fill the whole pub.

“And…that’s the girl!”

Rowle’s wand was now also aimed at Cassandra. “That’s the girl the Dark Lord wants!”

“Well, well, well,” smiled Jugson. “This changes things a little, doesn’t it? You’re coming with us, pretty,” he said, jerking his hand so Cassandra felt several hairs part company with her head. “I’ll take the girl. You take Potter.”

Cassandra saw, out of the corner of her eye, Harry being pulled up roughly and dragged out of the pub. His nose was broken and was bleeding, sending streams of blood down his face, smudged from the dirt of the battle. The battle going on around them was so ferocious that no one noticed them leaving. As soon as they were out of the destroyed Three Broomsticks, the Death Eaters turned on the spot and Disapparated, bringing Harry and Cassandra with them.

They appeared on a run-down street. Trees lined the edges, tall pines that stretched towards the sky, blocking out the road so no one could see them. Cassandra was pushed along by Jugson, her mind whirring. She wasn’t scared of meeting Voldemort. She was planning how to do the task Dumbledore had set her.

She looked down at Harry, who was being dragged along the ground. His eyes were darting towards his jeans pocket, then back to her, and back to the pocket again. He was obviously trying to tell her something and she too looked at his pocket. A wand was sticking out of it.
Cassandra understood immediately. How were they supposed to survive – two teenagers without a wand on them? And Harry was tied up, so he couldn’t use it.

She stumbled purposefully and fell; before Jugson had time to pull her up her hand had fastened around the wand and she pushed it up her sleeve. She had a wand.

They arrived at a large mansion. The grass was long and unkempt, and the house looked old and unlived in. They entered, and a wall of dirty, musty air hit their nostrils. There were sofas littered around the large room, tables and dressers and ornaments on the mantelpiece. An impressive crystal chandelier glittered on the ceiling. All the furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust. The house seemed as if it had been empty for centuries.

Harry’s eyes widened. He knew this place, had dreamed about it two years ago. This was where Voldemort, Wormtail and Barty Crouch had plotted to kill him, planned all that would happen during the Triwizard Tournament. They had called it the Riddle House in the dream.

“My Lord,” said Rowle in a hushed voice. “My Lord, we have captured Potter and the James girl.”

As he spoke, Harry felt his scar burn again, white-hot and excruciatingly painful. He screwed up his eyes, blinded by the pain.

“You have done well,” came a high, cold voice from the shadows. “You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude.”

Cassandra felt up her sleeve and gripped the wand tightly. Her heart was banging against her ribs furiously.

“Leave now,” said the voice again. “I will manage from here.”

The Death Eaters left silently, leaving Cassandra and Harry alone. Cassandra ran to Harry, pointing her wand at the ropes, and said “Diffindo.” They fell off at once, and Harry pressed his hands to his forehead, eyes still shut tight as the pain in his head grew.

“Harry, c’mon, you idiot! Look, I’m rubbish at defensive spells, the most I can do is wash the dishes!” But Harry groaned and rolled over, clutching his scar and Cassandra became worried that it was something more…

“Harry?”

She knelt down beside him and tried to prise his hands off his face.

“Are you-“

Harry yelled, and suddenly he didn’t seem to be in control of his own body. He rolled around, thrashing and yelling, his eyes rolling.

“Harry!”

But as Cassandra spoke a new figure came out of the shadows. A small smile was curled around his white face as he watched Harry thrashing around on the floor in front of him. His pitiless eyes were full of triumph.

Cassandra took a deep breath and turned to face Lord Voldemort.

She straightened up slowly, still keeping a tight grasp on Harry’s wrist. Harry was still flailing around on the floor, yelling loudly, his eyes closed.

Voldemort was pointing his wand at the pair of them, and she drew the stolen wand from up her sleeve and mirrored him.

“No.”

The wand felt unfamiliar and strange in her grasp. She recognised it as Harry’s, and remembered what he had told her about the twin cores, feeling more confident. It was scary, seeing Voldemort in front of her, knowing that he was aiming to kill Harry. And she could think of no way out at the moment, no way to stop it.

“You’ll have to kill me before you kill Harry.”

Voldemort’s white hand twitched. “I was planning to.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “Oh, well that simplifies things.” She hesitated, and then lowered her wand. “I’m not here to fight.”

Why hadn’t he struck yet? Why was Voldemort still staring at her, not moving?

“What do you want?” Cassandra whispered. “Why? You murder all these people. For what? For power? You can’t gain power from murder. And what a horrible way to have power, through fear.” She stepped closer and looked into his blood-red eyes. “You’ll never be anything but a murderer this way, Voldemort.”

Voldemort laughed. “And this is the girl who Dumbledore thought would do his bidding. Dumbledore’s puppet.”

He began to move closer, seeming to float over the dirty floor. “All those years ago, I swore to weed out the Gryffindors in order to revenge my ancestor. And when I was gone, my faithful Death Eaters continued. And yet…you live.”

“Look what Gryffindor did to Slytherin. He was the one who started the argument. And, because Slytherin left, it was he who got the blame, he who was shunted forever.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. Was Gryffindor all to blame? It seemed like it. Maybe it was all his fault that Slytherin turned evil…that Voldemort became the person he was…

“I’m going to destroy the Gryffindor’s. Crucio!”

It was pain beyond anything Cassandra had experienced, excruciating and terrible, white-hot and raw…it felt as if her very bones were on fire…she was burning, drowning in pain... she was burning...

And then it was over and she laying, shaking and shivering on the floor. Cassandra stumbled to her feet.

“That hurt, didn’t it, Cassandra?” said Voldemort.

“You’re not kidding,” she muttered to herself, then spoke louder.

“All you were saying about Slytherin and Gryffindor…we can change all that! Please…heal the rift between the two, and everything will be better, I know it, please!” She held her hand out.

There was a cold wind blowing in from the broken window, sending the dust spiralling into the air.

Again, Cassandra was hit by the Cruciatus Curse and lost all sense of where she was from the pain of it, the white-hot knives pressing against her skin. When the spell was lifted, she was relieved to find she was still holding on to Harry and her wand.

Voldemort raised his own wand and Cassandra knew what he was going to do. She pulled Harry behind a large wardrobe as a burst of bright green light filled the room. The wardrobe burst into flames, scorching her face.

Jets on green light were now flying around the room, setting objects on fire, filling the room with smoke and blazing heat. And Cassandra was choking, smoke filling her lungs, and was crouching behind the burning wood, gripping her wand tightly.

She darted out from her hiding place and pointed her wand at the large crystal chandelier on the ceiling so it dropped down, right on top of Voldemort, sending broken glass and crystal everywhere. Cassandra ducked, shielding her eyes with her hands as the shards cut into her skin, making small deep cuts in her flesh.

She grabbed a small crystal and, pointing her wand at it, said “Portus!” It glowed blue for a second and Cassandra held onto it tightly, pressing Harry’s hand to it too. A second that seemed to last a lifetime…the sound of Voldemort screeching curses…the roar of the flames…and then they were being pulled far away from the Riddle House, Voldemort’s curses echoing in her ears.