Remember Me

Cassandra was unimaginably bored.

There was just nothing to do. Nothing at all. She looked forward to the times when people came in to visit her, but when they did she hated it. They were just so patronising. They treated her like a baby. Well, she wasn’t.

And the way they treated her! Like they knew her! She’d never seen them before in her life!
Honestly, sometimes she just wanted to hit them.

Desperation, feverish desire to get out of here pulsed through her. It was just that there was nothing to do. Never had been anything to do her whole life.

Cassandra groaned and pressed her chin onto her knees. The curtains were closed around her bed. They seemed to close in on her, giving her a claustrophobic feeling. She hated enclosed spaces.

A Healer popped her head round them. “Everything alright dear?”

“Oh, just amazing,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Good girl.” The Healer smiled and left.

Good girl? Wasn’t she old enough not to look like a seven year old?

“Just leave me here then,” Cassandra muttered under her breath. “Don’t worry that I’m bored out of my brain and feel like murdering you right at this minute…no, I’m having a party here…”

Cassandra sank further down in her bed, muttering angrily.

Everyone was just so annoying.

And she was just so bored.

**********************************************************************************

“So, remind me again why we’re here?” Ron asked Hermione as they ploughed through thick rain.

“Professor Garino was the author of Hogwarts: A History. He’s sure to know loads about Slytherin and Gryffindor,” she explained.

“He wrote Hogwarts: A History?” asked Harry, surprised.

“Yes. If you’d ever bothered to read it, you’d know,” she smiled. “I thought it would be useful.”

When Ron and Harry glanced at each other, confused, she elaborated.

“We don’t know anything about Slytherin and Gryffindor! I think, in order to heal the rift, we need to know as much about them as possible.”

“Yeah…and she wants to get Garino’s autograph,” muttered Ron to Harry when Hermione wasn’t watching. “How is this going to help us?”

Harry had to admit that he couldn’t understand why either. Surely all there was to know about Gryffindor and Slytherin was that they were once friends and then they became enemies? Hermione, however, seemed to think differently and so they were going to visit this Professor Garino.

They hurried through the little village urgently. It was a wizarding village; this was obvious by the posters of their faces which greeted them from every wall. There was one thousand galleons reward money.

Harry stopped, and extracted the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and threw it over himself and Ron. “Hermione, come over here.”

She slipped under the cloak. “Harry, our ankles show.”

“Yeah, but look, there’s a whole crowd of people over there. If they see us, we’re dead.”

“Just go,” whispered Ron. “Which one is that Garino’s house anyway?”

They crept forwards, bent over so the Cloak wouldn’t show their feet too much.

“Its number eighty-one,” hissed Hermione. “This way…
”
The group of wizards on the corner were chatting in whispered voices, huddled together like penguins to ward off the cold. One of them was pointing at the Wanted poster, and Harry’s stomach froze.

Mist was creeping in over the village now, dank and wet and miserable. The wizards tutted and went inside houses, calling goodbyes to each other.

“Thank God,” said Ron, making to pull off the Cloak, but Harry seized his wrist.

“They could still be looking out their windows. Let’s keep it on.”

The mist was becoming thicker, and the air was becoming colder. Harry shivered from the deep, penetrating cold that flowed through his body, freezing his insides.

“Er…is it just me?” began Ron, “Or are there some more figures over there?”

Harry looked to where he was pointing. The dimly lit streetlamps flickered and died. Light from the windows was extinguished and the rain on the glass turned to ice.

Harry suddenly felt hopeless. What was the point of fighting, there was nothing they could do…despair ran through his veins like blood.

The hooded figures glided softly through the village. It was so cold now.

“Ron!” gasped Hermione. “They’re Dementors!”

Harry raised his wand, backing away quickly. But he was unable to think of a happy thought.
They were on the run, just three teenagers with no idea of how to fight in this war.

Dumbledore was gone. Hogwarts and the Ministry had been taken over. Voldemort had won.

His mother was screaming in his ears. He vaguely saw Ron sent a faint jet of silver light at the Dementors which flickered and died, saw Hermione’s silver otter fall to the ground.

He could see Cedric’s dead body…Sirius falling through the veil…his parent’s screams were everywhere…Cassandra’s vacant, empty face when the memory curse hit her…

And for the first time in weeks, he pictured her face, her golden hair falling in a wave to her waist, her fiery grey eyes challenging him, the slight tilt to the end of her nose, her scrunched up grin…

Suddenly there were other memories flooding back to him. Cassandra, raising her eyebrows and laughing at Ron on that day in Diagon Alley…Cassandra flying towards him at the speed of light, the Quaffle held in her hand…Cassandra and him thinking up names for Moaning Myrtle’s boyfriend…Cassandra eating Hagrid’s rock cakes…

Harry raised his wand again, and suddenly thinking of a happy memory seemed to be the easiest thing in the world.

“Expecto Patronum!” he yelled, and his silver stag burst out of the tip of his wand, chasing the Dementors away. The lights came back on, the mist disappeared and the day became marginally warmer.

“Oh,” gasped Hermione. “That was horrible.”

“It’s okay,” muttered Ron, patting her on the back. “They’re gone now.”

Harry turned to the pair of them, beaming. They looked surprised at the expression on his face.

“What’s up with you?” asked Ron. “You like being attacked by Dementors or something?”

“I want to go and visit Cass,” said Harry.

Ron clapped him on the back.

Hermione beamed.