CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED AND THREE;

FAMILY REUNITED

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The gang of prisoners lurched and swayed into one another as they landed on a country lane. Cassie's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness — it was not as dark as it had been in the forest, for the lampposts positioned on either side of the wrought-iron fence provided an eery fog of yellowness.

One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and took them in his beefy hands, rattling them. "How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't— blimey!" He ripped his hands away in shock, for the iron of the gates was contorting, twisting itself out of the symmetrical bars and into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice: "State your purpose!"

"We've got Potter!" Greyback shouted delightedly. "We've captured Potter — and Black!"

The gates swung open without a moment's delay, and then men shunted the prisoners through the opening and up the drive toward the manor. Cassie could not keep her nerves at bay — she stood about twenty feet from her probable death, and the length shrunk with every shove given to her shoulder from the Snatcher behind her.

And then they reached the front entrance of the manor. The prisoners were thrown to the gravel before the door, which must have swung open, because light spilled out over all of them.

"What is this?" said a woman's cold voice – a voice that Cassie recognized and hated with such a passion that she snapped her head up instantaneously to glare at Narcissa Malfoy.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.

"Who are you?" Narcissa's eyes did not once glance to the prisoners, but stayed fixated on Greyback.

"You know me." There was some resentment in his voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter."

Narcissa's eyes fell upon Harry, and though his face was still squished together ridiculously from Hermione's curse, Cassie had to admit he was easy to recognize with the wiry glasses and lightning bolt scar. "Follow me," Narcissa said, and Cassie was shoved up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits. She tried not to think about how many of these portraits she might have been related to.

"My son, Draco," said Narcissa, and Cassie's blood boiled in resentment, "is home for holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

Narcissa led them into a large, formal room; two figures sat in leather chairs at one end and there was an unlit fireplace at the other. The room itself was not dark — on the contrary; it seemed to have sunlight pouring in, despite that it had to have been midnight by then.

One of the figures stood when they saw the group enter. "What is this?" it said, and the familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Cassie's ears. She was easily panicking now; there was seemly no way out, and it was easy for her fear to mount when she didn't have Harry to ground her.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa, and told her son to come check if it really was Harry. Cassie, unlike the other prisoners, watched her cousin's every move; she did not once take her eyes off of Draco's tall form as he stalked over from the leather chair he had been seated in until he reached Harry and peered into his stung face.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius, avid. "Is it? Is it him?"

"I can't — I can't be sure," said Draco. Cassie nearly exhaled a sigh of relief, if she had not been so cynical of what trick Draco had up his sleeve. The boy before him was clearly Harry, so why lie? Why not just give him up?

   "But look at him carefully," urged Lucius, taking his son by the shoulders and pushing him forward. Cassie had never seen the man so excited. "Surely you recognize him?"

   "I don't know," Draco said again.

   "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord—"

   "We won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback, a growl caught in the back of his throat.

   "Of course not," Lucius said impatiently. He stalked forward, squinting at Harry's face. "Though I doubt the Dark Lord will be so generous as to reward you for giving him this — what happened to his face? What did you do?"

   "It wasn't us," said Greyback, shrugging his shoulders. His steel eyes landed on Cassie once more and his lips upturned at the corner in a smirk — he stepped toward her and took her by the shoulder, saying, "But this is clearly the girl, so I reckon I'll be getting a reward for her."

   Cassie struggled against his grip, her eyes interlocking with Draco's — she had never seen him as frightened as he had been then. Then, once realizing whom he was looking at, his eyes flashed with something menacing and the brief moment of sympathy Cassie held for him passed.

   "It's a pleasure to see you again, cousin," she spat, unable to restrict herself — she received a blow to the back of her head, knocking her chin into her chest painfully. She lifted her head again, ignoring the throbbing from both her chest and the back of her head.

   "And in your natural state," sneered Draco, narrowing his eyes upon her. "Surprised you haven't Glamoured yourself out of this one. Coward."

   As Cassie struggled further against Greyback's grip, a door opened on the other side of the room and Bellatrix's shrieking voice came upon everyone's ears.

   "What's this? What's happened, Cissy?" She circled the prisoners slowly and stopped on Harry's right, though she ignored both The-Boy-Who-Lived and Cassiopeia Black, staring directly at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes.

   "But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

   "Yes, yes, it's Granger!" cried Lucius. "And beside her, we think, Potter – on his right, it's Black, and the Weasley boy next to her! Caught at last!"

   Bellatrix ignored Lucius, for her eyes had landed and narrowed upon an object outside Cassie's limited line of vision. She strode over to it, the room eerily quiet.

   In the blink of an eye, Bellatrix had stunned all of the Snatchers and held her wand to Greyback's neck, both breathing heavily.

   "Where did you find this?" she asked hoarsely, and summoned it into her hand. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

   "It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"

   She dropped the werewolf to the floor, where he prowled behind an armchair, his filthy nails clutching its back.

   Bellatrix indicated to the unconscious Snatchers and said, "Draco, move this scum outside. If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

   "Don't you dare speak to Draco like—" said Narcissa furiously, but Bellatrix cut her off with a shout.

   "Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!" She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword and examining its hilt. She then turned to look at the silent prisoners. "The prisoners must be placed in the cellar," she said, still watching them all, "while I think what to do!"

   "This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my—"

   "Do it! You have no idea the danger we are in!" shrieked Bellatrix. She looked frighteningly mad, standing with her heaving chest and wand smoking.

   Narcissa hesitated for a moment, clearly battling within herself as to listen to her sister's commands, before giving in and turning to Greyback. "Take these prisoners down to the cellar."

   "Wait," said Bellatrix sharply, eyes once again on Hermione. "All except... except for the Mudblood."

   "No," Cassie croaked, though it went unheard beneath Ron's pained shouts of protest — Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room.

   "If she dies under questioning," she said, "I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure."

   As they made the slow journey to the cellar, Cassie could feel Ron shaking against her back. She tried to reach for his hand, but the ropes restricted her just far enough away from his fingers. She pursed her lips, now instead scanning the staircase they were descending as a mass of tied-together prisoners.

   At the bottom of the stone stairs was a heavy door that Greyback unlocked with a tap of his wand, then forced the prisoners into a dank and musty room and left them in total darkness. The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away before there was a terrible, drawn-out scream from directly above them.

   "HERMIONE!" Ron cried, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together. "HERMIONE!"

   "Be quiet!" Cassie heard Harry say. "Ron, we need to work out a way—"

   "HERMIONE!"

   "Ron, please," Cassie said, her voice a strained choke. "We need—"

   "Cassie?" came a whisper through the darkness. "Ron? Harry, is that you?"

   Ron stopped his shouting. There was a sound of movement close by them, and a shadow drew out of the darkness.

   "Holy hell, Cass," a second voice muttered through the darkness, and it was a voice Cassie could have recognized anywhere — though she hadn't heard it in two years, it was as easy for her to identify then as it had been when she last heard it in fifth year.

   "You're fucking joking," she whispered as the first figure sawed away at the rope bounding her hands to Ron's with an old nail — the moment Cassie was free, she burst forward and fell to the floor, tackling Atticus.

   "You're supposed to be dead," Cassie murmured, pinning him to the floor with her forearm. "You are dead. So who the fuck are you?"

   "Florian Atticus Forbes," he answered, not a trace of panic in his eyes as he stared at Cassie. "I'll prove it, too; ask me anything."

   "What were the last words you said to Cedric Diggory?"

Atticus winced. "Still a sore spot," he said, then coughed slightly as Cassie tightened her arm against his neck. "Fine, fine. We were in a row — it was one of our bigger ones, I remember. Last thing I said was 'piss off,' and then he.. well, you know."

   Cassie's elbow slackened and she rolled back onto her heels, her brows softening in disbelief. This could not be Atticus, because he was dead, so this was clearly a hallucination. Cassie was so shaken by being kidnapped by Snatchers that her subconscious was creating illusions, painful memories resurfacing within each. What was next — Cedric appearing and telling her he hadn't died right before her eyes?

   "Atticus?" asked Harry, whom had knelt by Cassie to peer into the darkness at what she had become so distressed by. "You're alive?"

   "Look, I don't quite fancy it either," he said, a bitter edge to his voice that was quite unfamiliar coming from his usually jovial tone. "But I am. Been locked down here since the Department of Mysteries."

   That last bit, Cassie could believe. In the faint light Ron had cast with his Deluminator, she could see the stubble across his once defined jawline, now clearly malnourished; his hair, which used to lay atop his head in messy but organized waves, seemingly had just been cut by a Death Eater in order to keep up his appearance – it was shaggy and quite uneven; and his eyes, usually sparkling with mischievousness and glee, were dull, sinking into his bruised face.

   "It's really you," Cassie exhaled, her eyes wide and glossing over. "I can't believe... it's really you."

   "And you," Atticus said, his eyes glimpsing over her quickly. "You've grown, haven't you?"

   "No, she hasn't," said Luna, her serene voice cutting in. "C'mon, we've got to help Harry and Ron find a way out."

   As Ron and Harry gave Atticus disbelieving hugs, Cassie traced her fingers gently across the stone wall entrapping them in the cellar. She felt across it for any sort of trick stone — or perhaps a secret door — but no such luck. She exhaled a short sigh and shook her head in the dim, muggy light.

   "I don't see how we're going to get out of here," she admitted. "If Atticus has been down here for two years and hasn't found a way out—"

   "And trust me, I've searched every square inch of this place," he chimed.

   "–then I don't see any hope for us," Cassie finished. Her eyes traveled to Harry for an answer, as they always did when seemly unsolvable problems arose. "Any ideas?"

Harry began saying "I don't kn—" when a loud scream rent the air, and again Ron was pounding on the walls, bellowing at the Malfoys to let him out. Bellatrix shrieked something in reply to Hermione's cries, but it was incomprehensible over Ron's painstaking roars.

"Help us!" Harry was suddenly screaming into something he held in his hand, and Cassie moved around him to see what he was shouting at — it was her mirror shard; the one she had received from her dad so many years ago. "Help us," Harry continued, "we're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor!"

"Harry, where did you find that?" she asked, disbelief racking her voice. "I've been looking for it for ages!"

"You left it at Grimmauld after Christmas in fifth year, I think," he said, still glaring into the mirror as if it was supposed to help them escape. "I dunno, Cass, I found it in your old room a couple months ago. But there's something odd about it; it's like there's someone else in it—"

"It's a double-sided mirror," muttered Cassie, taking said mirror in her hand and gazing into it. "It doesn't show your own reflection, but you can use it as... er, a phellytone—"

"Telephone," corrected Ron, who had calmed down after Luna had begun humming comforting words into his ear. "It's a telephone."

"Yes, that," Cassie agreed, nodding. "Who did you see on the other side, Harry?"

"Well, it's.." Harry drew in a breath, rubbing his forehead. "I think I've been seeing Dumbledore in it."

"Harry, he's—"

"—dead, I know," continued Harry, "but.. I don't know, I just had hope."

"Wait," said Atticus suddenly, and he looked quite alarmed, "Dumbledore's dead?"

   "Oh," Cassie said softly. It only then dawned on her how much Atticus had missed whilst he was tucked away, down in the Malfoys' cellar; she had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut and her lips fell into a slight frown. "We've got to catch you up, Atticus. But now is not the time."

   "Agreed," Harry said. He nodded toward Griphook, whom Cassie had not noticed until then, but then wondered how she had missed him — the goblin lay on the ground, looking beat-up and ruined, while Mr. Ollivander sat with his hand on Griphook's shoulder as a form of comfort.

   Another terrible scream came, followed closely by Bellatrix's voice: "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

   "We've never been inside your vault!" sobbed Hermione desperately. "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

   "A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"

   "But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

   Harry dashed across the cellar to where Griphook was huddled on the floor and whispered something into his ear. A moment later, someone came scuttling down the cellar steps; then Draco's voice came from behind the door.

   "Stand back. Line up against the wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"

   The prisoners did as they were told, and the lock turned; Ron clicked the Deluminator and the lights whisked back into his pocket, restoring the cellar's darkness until Malfoy pushed the stone door open and cast a beam of light.

   His eyes skimmed the prisoners, then paused on Cassie. Something flashed in his gaze: an emotion too complicated for Cassie to understand from behind the angry haze her own eyes were providing. She could not see far past the incandescent rage boiling in her body.

   As Malfoy passed her to reach for Griphook, she could not stop herself, lunging off of the wall and pounding Malfoy's ear in one fell swoop. She drew her hand back and swung as many times possible as she could in the time between something happens and the victim's reaction to it — Malfoy pinned his wand into her neck almost instantly, forcing her back against the wall, but blood dripped from his ear where she had managed to strike a hit.

   Their faces were inches apart; she could feel the warmth of his heaving pants as he muttered, "You're mad. I'll fucking kill you."

   "Do it, then," she said, voice just as low and strained as his. "Kill me."

   Malfoy hesitated, and Cassie took the risk to give a challenging smirk. She tilted her chin up as he gave his wand a shove, pinning it further into her neck.

   "You can't kill me, Draco," she said. "But I, for one, don't have a Dark Lord forbidding me from anything — I swear to you; when we get out of here, I'll kill you with my bare fucking hands."

Malfoy's eyes widened and he backed away — it was more of a stumble, but he caught himself and grabbed Griphook by the shoulder. He dragged the goblin out of the cellar, all the while keeping his eyes glued on Cassie.

Once he was gone, she curled her lip in a sneer and said, "Coward. He's a bloody coward." She turned around as Atticus and Harry exchanged a grim expression, but dismissed it. "Well? Are we going to find a way out of here, or what?"

"Yes," said Dean, who had not said anything otherwise. "Yes, we've got to get out of—"

CRACK.

Everyone froze; Ron clicked his Deluminator and returned the light to the room, and Cassie glanced around to see what had made the noise.

"Hello!" said Dobby. "Dobby has come to rescue you."