Discovering You

Cassandra wrinkled her nose and pushed a complicated looking star chart into the depths of her bag, before slumping down in her seat and groaning. She was beginning to wish that she had followed Debbie’s advice about actually completing the summer homework, but at the time Cassandra had preferred to go down to her nearby beach and lie there, letting all the tension she had felt since Christmas drain out of her.

It had been an odd summer, she thought as she idly picked Yolanda up to stop her cat terrorising a nervous first-year and stroking her ears. For one thing, Debbie and John had demanded to know everything that went on last year, and Cassandra found she couldn’t really remember properly. Odd images kept sticking in her mind, of Professor Garino’s eager, almost hungry eyes, of Madam Rosmerta chucking a glass of mead at a Death Eaters head in the Three Broomsticks, and, worst of all, Harry’s pale, sweaty, bloodied face as he screamed, Voldemort smiling down at him.

Then she had to remind herself that it didn’t work out like that, that everything was fine.
Cassandra had always considered war as unreal, something you read in a book, a game, really. She knew Debbie and John were full time Order members, that she had lost her own parents because of war, but it wasn’t real to her. If anything, she thought it exciting.

She was embarrassed to think that now.

Cassandra yawned widely, and snatched up a copy of Witch Weekly from the coffee table in front of her. Harry’s face beamed at her from the front cover, and she snorted, chucking the magazine away. Two months later, and the media still hadn’t got enough of Harry.

Yolanda purred contentedly as Cassandra rubbed her short fur, glancing at the clock as she did so. She didn’t like the free period when Harry, Ron and Hermione had Herbology, and although she could see Parvati and Lavender in the corner, she had never really become friendly with them…thinking about it, she hadn’t had a chance to know a lot of people.

There was a patter of footsteps as the portrait hole opened, and Cassandra turned round to see her three friends looking decidedly dirty, with huge smears of mud across their cheeks.

“Good time?” Cassandra called innocently, grinning as Ron stomped across, leaving black footprints behind him and sat down in the saggy old armchair. "You stink!"

“Well,” he said. “I don’t see why anyone would want a plant like that. Not even Neville…”
Harry and Hermione joined them. Hermione looked a little tidier than Harry, and began casting a spell on her robes to clean them.

“I was going to wash, but we haven’t got much time,” she said, brushing a scarlet leaf out of her hair. “We’ve got Defence next.”

“Oh yes!” cried Cassandra, leaping up and tucking her legs under her. “Another mad lunatic who tries to kill Harry? We can’t break the tradition, come on,” she laughed, leaning against Harry who put his arm around her.

“You really make me look forward to these lessons, Cass,” he said, rolling his eyes and shifting slightly in his chair. After the war, he had accumulated a great number of other scars, which were now thankfully healed, but he could still feel a remainder of a curse Voldemort had cast upon him. It didn’t affect him much, just tired him out more easily, and it was the reason why a new red and gold badge that had been his last year now glittered on Ron’s chest.

He was pleased for Ron, of course he was – Harry had never really forgotten what Ron saw when he stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, and there was no one who deserved the title of Quidditch Captain more than Ron, but it was infuriating to know that this year, his last year at Hogwarts, he would not be able to play in another Quidditch match. It had been bad enough in fifth year, when he had to watch in the stands with Hermione.

He glanced over at Hermione. She too, had received a badge along with her Hogwarts letter. It was surprising how shocked she seemed to be Head Girl – he and Ron had expected it since first year.

The common room was emptying as people hurried off to their various lessons, checking timetables or hastily scribbling an end to their essay, checking answers with their friends desperately. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Cassandra joined the crowd pushing their way out of the portrait hole and down the moving staircases. Cassandra was secretly glad that it was so crowded no one could see when Harry closed his hand around hers.

She hadn’t told anyone about her and Harry – she hadn’t truly admitted it to herself yet. It gave her a knot of nervous excitement in her stomach when she thought I’m going out with Harry Potter. She was surprised really, that more people hadn’t noticed. Ron and Hermione knew, obviously, but surely people had seen her and harry spending more time together, stealing off for long walks around the lake and…well, she thought about the gossip if people did know and thought it better that they didn’t.

They entered the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom behind Neville, and stopped. It was completely different. With Professor Grimstone, there had been gruesome posters lining the walls, and a large first-aid kit at the front of the room to heal the many injuries gained. However, the classroom was now pleasantly light, with white walls and sunlight streaming in from the open windows. Books hovered enticingly on shelves, and, dominating the room, were three large dummies, all of whom held a wand in their hand.

“Merlin’s pants,” whispered Cassandra to Ron. “Is that what we have to turn Death Eaters into? I’m aiming for Malfoy.”

“Fine,” grinned Ron. “I’ll do Crabbe and Goyle.”

“Deal.”

“Okay, right, everyone gather round!”

A small witch with short black hair that looked as if it had been nibbled strode into the centre of the room. She clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone here?” She looked around the room, seemed to find it reasonably full and nodded. “Good. So, hi, I’m your new Defence teacher, Professor Macklin, and can everyone put their bags over by the door? No, no books today, bit boring – trust me, I’ve read the whole thing. I pity you all. Yes, of course you need your wands, haven’t you seen these things, they’re not here to make the room look nice, honestly!” she said, gesturing towards the large dummies. The girl she had been speaking to sniffed, and stalked over to drop her bag.

“Who’s that?” asked Ron to Harry. “I haven’t seen her before, have you?”

Harry followed his gaze. The girl looked fairly ordinary – small for her size, with mousy brown hair tied back neatly and freckles scattered over her nose. He vaguely remembered seeing her at the Sorting.

“Perhaps she’s new.”

“It’s seventh year! Who sends their kid to school in seventh year?”

Harry shrugged, but then a conversation that he had had with Dumbledore floated into his mind. He opened his mouth to tell Ron, but Professor Macklin had her wand out, and was speaking to them all.

“So, I thought we’d start with something today, basically I just need to see how good you are in a duel. Should be quite fun. Or at least quite fun to watch. So, volunteers, anyone?”
“But Professor,” said the new girl. “You haven’t said what the dummies will do.”

Professor Macklin looked quite unconcerned. “Oh, you know, kind of like Death Eaters, lots of jinxes and curses and stuff. No Unforgivable Curses though! Look on the bright side!”

Harry laughed.

“Is that safe though?” asked the girl, frowning. “I mean-“

“What’s your name?” asked the teacher.

“Rachel Leroy.”

Harry recognised the name instantly. He leaned forward to talk to Ron, Hermione and Cassandra.

“That new girl – Dumbledore told me about her last year. She’s the last living descendant of Ravenclaw, he went looking for them, he said she’d be enrolling here.”

“Ravenclaw?” hissed Cassandra, craning her neck to see Rachel clearer. “Wow, that’s so cool! Although not as cool as being the last descendant of Gryffindor, agreed everyone? Good.”

Professor Macklin now had Rachel organised in front of a dummy. “Okay, so just keep ready, on your toes, and…GO!”

Cassandra was standing near the front, and as the dummy creaked into life saw a flicker of fear on Rachel’s face. She almost laughed at that – it was a dummy, after all – but then she saw Rachel’s duelling skills and thought she had reason to be scared.

Rachel was terrible. She started off standing facing the dummy, her wand held out confidently, but soon she was darting all over the place. The dummy’s attack was relentless, and Rachel couldn’t keep her wand up or even have time to formulate a spell in her mind.

Cassandra watched, her eyebrows raised and fiddling with her hair. She had to admit, Rachel did look quite funny, but then she saw Rachel’s annoyed glare she sent to a crowd of Slytherin girls and thought that maybe it was quite cruel to laugh.

After fifteen minutes, Professor Macklin stopped the dummy, and Rachel collapsed against a wall, gasping for breath, her face red and sweaty. Professor Macklin appeared not to notice.

“Okay everyone!” she called out happily. “Who else wants a go?”