chapter eight / good tidings

                              THE FIRST THING CASSIE REGISTERED on Christmas morning was the faint, bothersome droning of the first years' high-pitched voices bustling 'round in the common room, comparing gifts and gushing over candies. Still in bed and quite unable to peel the covers off of herself, Cassie flipped over to her right—and, upon seeing that Lavender was still sound asleep in her bed, turned to her left to see Hermione's bed made up nicely. Hermione was nowhere to be found.

Cassie let out a light groan as she sat up, casting the covers off herself and allowing the cold air in, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. Lavender stirred in her sleep, and Cassie was afraid she'd awoken her, but altogether only rolled back over and let out a small snore.

The voices of the first years' drowned out, presumedly as they made their way down to the Great Hall for a joyful Christmas breakfast. Cassie inched to the edge of her bed to slide on her slippers and follow them down, but, upon sight of her trunk, she paused, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Sitting atop her trunk, that sat at the foot of the bed, was a medium-sized parcel wrapped haphazardly in dirty newspaper clippings. Cassie peered at it curiously. She reached out to unwrap it, chalking its mysteriousness to Hermione's absence—it must've been a gift from her.

Beneath the newspaper clippings was a shard of a mirror, about the size of a regular handheld compact, but rigid on the edges, as though broken from a larger host. Cassie gazed into it for a moment, her own grey eyes returning the curious look, before setting it to the side. If it truly was from Hermione, as Cassie believed it to be, she was slowly starting to wonder what could have gone through her friend's mind to think a broken mirror was anything near a good gift?

She was torn from her thoughts as Hermione herself burst through the door. When her eyes landed on Cassie, she broke into a grin, shutting the door behind her. "Happy Christmas, Cassie! I've just been up to the Owlrey to pick up your gift—"

Cassie frowned, cutting Hermione off as she picked up the mirror shard once more. "I've already got it, though."

Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. She hesitated, and it was then Cassie realized she was holding a package behind her back. She sheepishly held it out. "Er.. no, I've got it right here. What on earth is that?"

"Dunno," Cassie admitted, once more gazing into her reflection. "I'd thought it was from you, honestly. It's not?"

"No, Cassie, I.." Hermione shook her head. She opened the package in her hands and held up a maroon jumper with brown buttons down its middle. "I got you this. It's from a nice little shop back home—a Muggle-run place. I just knew you'd like it, so I had Mum send it to me, and it only just came in this morning."

"Oh, I think that's a delightful jumper, Hermione," Cassie assured her, smiling graciously. She averted her eyes back to the mirror in her hands, her smile wavering, throat tightening. "But if you didn't give me this one... well, who did?"

     Hermione advanced to Cassie's bedside, curious. She picked the mirror shard up and turned it over in her hands.

  "There wasn't a note or any—?" she began, but cut her own self off with a short gasp, tossing the mirror shard to the end of Cassie's bed.

   "What is it?" Cassie asked urgently, her eyebrows furrowed.

  Hermione swallowed, shaking her head fervently. "There was... there was a man inside it!" she hissed, pointing to the mirror and lowering her voice as though it could hear her.

     Cassie almost laughed. "Hermione, it's a mirror," she said, picking it up. Nevertheless, she peered into it again. When no man appeared—much less anybody besides herself—she shrugged. "See? A normal mirror."

     It was clear, though, that something had bothered Hermione. She only pursed her lips and let the subject drop.

After Lavender had finally woken (she really could sleep through a bloody dragon fight) and the three girls had giggled on about their presents, Hermione, Crookshanks, and Cassie bade Lavender a good morning and headed off to meet the boys. They were greeted at the bottom of the stairs by Ron and Harry ogling a fancy-looking broomstick.

  "What are you two staring at?" Hermione asked as she and Cassie entered the common room. Crookshanks let out a sharp-toothed yawn.

  "Don't you bring him in here!" Ron hurriedly snatched Scabbers from the couch and stowed him safely in his pajama pocket, but Hermione hadn't paid him a bit of attention from the moment she'd seen what was in Harry's hands.

  "Oh, Harry!" she said breathlessly, gazing at the broomstick. Cassie fell into place next to her, delicately tracing her finger over the outline of its handle.

  "Who sent you this?" she asked curiously, lifting it slightly out of Harry's grasp and watching the label shimmer in the light. "I've heard these things are well over the odds."

  Harry shrugged, allowing Cassie to take it in her hands. "I've no clue. There wasn't a letter with it."

  Hermione's face fell.

     Cassie quirked an eyebrow. "You don't say?"

  "What's the matter with you?" Ron asked, eyeing Hermione.

  "I don't know..." she began slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? This is supposed to be a really good broom..."

  "It's the best broom there is, Hermione," Ron said exasperatedly.

  But Hermione ignored him, as per usual. "So it must've been really expensive," she deducted.

  "Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," Ron said proudly.

     "Ron, don't gloat," Cassie chided.

  Hermione ignored him once more. "Well.. who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him who it was that gave it to him? Surely they'd want credit, or something."

  Ron was clearly beginning to grow impatient. "Who cares?" he said, scathingly. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"

  "I don't think anyone should be riding that broom yet!" Hermione said, and the three turned their eyes to her, disbelieving. She held her ground, chin up. "You heard me."

"What on—?" Ron began, only to be cut off with a large 'MEOW' as Crookshanks bound for his chest. "Get him OUT OF HERE!" he bellowed, as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted an escape over his shoulder. Ron seized his rat by the tail and sent a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit Cassie's shin and caused her to yell out and beginning berating Ron's clumsiness. All the commotion came to a sudden, confused halt as the sound of a tiny whistle filled the room.

     A Sneakoscope had become dislodged from a pair of old socks and had begun whirling annoyingly around on the floor.

  "Oh, I forgot about that," Harry said calmly, reaching to pick it up and reset it, as though he were unbothered by the chaos of the room.

  Once the mayhem had subsided (as much as it could, when it came to the group of misfitted Gryffindors) and the four friends were decently dressed for the banquet, they left the common room for the Great Hall. The four House tables usually taking up the majority of the hall had been transfigured into a long dining table set for twelve in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, Snape, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a rather old and moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students; two extremely nervous looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

     "Ron, I told you it'd've been weird if you'd brought Scabbers," Cassie muttered to her redheaded friend. "Nobody much fancies a rat scurrying along their lap as they celebrate Christmas, do they?"

     Ron dejectedly scratched the back of his neck. "I suppose you're right, then..."

  "Happy Christmas!" welcomed Dumbledore, as the four Gryffindors approached the table. He was grinning from ear to ear as he swept his arms out across the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables... Please, sit down, sit down!"

  Wordlessly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Cassie sat side by side at the end of the table, the latter of the bunch already gearing up to go.

  "Crackers!" cried Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

  Cassie, remembering Neville's Boggart of Snape in his grandmother's clothes, caught Harry's eye and they both grinned; Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat onto Dumbledore, who swapped it for a Christmas hat at once. He looked remarkably like Santa – that is, if Mrs. Claus had put him on a rather strict diet.

  "Dig in," Dumbledore advised, beaming at the table.

  The meal, as usual, was delightfully delicious. Just as Cassie was reaching for her goblet of some sort of pepperminty drink, the doors to the Great Hall opened once more. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding towards them as though she was floating.

  "Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up to greet her.

  "I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Trelawney in her mysterious and faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness.."

  "Oh, certainly," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair—"

  He did as he said, pulling a chair through the air with his wand, and setting it on the ground between Snape and Mcgonagall with a small thunk. Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roaming the table, and she suddenly uttered a weird soft scream.

  "I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

  "Oh, we'll risk it, Sybill," said Mcgonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting cold."

  Trelawney lowered herself into a seat next to Cassie, who shuffled closer towards Harry, never one to particularly entertain Trelawney's oddness.

  "But where is dear Professor Lupin?" the professor asked, blinking.

  "Sick," Cassie said quickly, clearing her throat. The table's attention turned to her. "He's.. just a bit under the weather, unfortunately."

  "But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow, and the two women shared a cold look.

  "If you must know, Minerva," Trelawney began icily, "I have foreseen that poor Professor Lupin and our dear Cassie will not be with us very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is fleeting—"

     "Sorry," Cassie said, setting her fork and knife down on her plate and giving Trelawney an unpleasant smile, "what?"

  Trelawney wasn't shaken. "I–it has been foretold—"

  Cassie inhaled sharply through her nose. "Nothing has been foretold, Professor. My father's not in any danger, nor am I, so if you could please let me finish my Christmas Day feast without predicting my death every possible moment—"

  "Oh, Miss Lupin, do try the green beans," Dumbledore interrupted calmly, his eyes shimmering as he said her name, using his wand to levitate the plate over to her.

     Cassie let the platter of green beans hover limply above her place. She cleared her throat to calm herself and stood from the table. Ignoring the gasp from Trelawney — no doubt about her being the first to stand from a table of thirteen — she exited the Great Hall and walked back to her common room.

                            "YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN."

     Atticus met Cassie's eyes and his humming came to an abrupt halt. He offered her a smile, then returned to his reading, feet propped up on Cassie's lap.

"Life is so unbelievably boring without Cedric," he said a moment later, dropping the book lazily against his chest.

     Cassie sighed and set hers to the side, already knowing she wouldn't have been able to get a page in edgewise. "Why didn't you go home?" she asked curiously. "That way, you and Cedric could both be away from school, and I wouldn't have to hear you whine about how much you miss him all the bloody time."

     Atticus had a charming smile on his face as he answered, ignoring Cassie's comment. "Wanted to spend my favorite holiday with my favorite third year, of course."

  "Really?" Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow.

     Atticus's eyes flickered like there was more he wasn't saying, but he nodded his head firmly. "Yup. Plus, I could never leave you alone with those twatty excuses for boys," he added, annoyed.

  "Well, from what I've heard, you won't have to worry about me for too much longer," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

     Atticus furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean? You aren't leaving, are you?"

  Cassie exhaled a sigh, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "Trelawney only says it's foretold that I'm going to leave the school soon.. or something."

     He raised an eyebrow. "Or something?"

     A playful smile lilted her lips. "Or die, I suppose."

  "Ah. Well, you've already promised me you wouldn't get murdered, so that's off the table," he pointed out.

    Cassie exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, well. Tell that to Black when he comes looking."

  Atticus sat up straight. "Well, I will! I'll say it straight to his face! 'Oi! Black! You're nothin' but a big bully, is what you are!'" he mimicked in a deep voice, causing Cassie to burst into a fit of laughter.

  "He'd probably kill you on the spot," she said between giggles, and Atticus laughed with her, before Madam Pince came around the corner and hushed them both. They shared a glance before bursting into silent laughter.

  "Y'know, my step-brother says he doesn't believe Black is free. He thinks it's all a publicity stunt," Atticus said once the laughter had subsided, but the pure thought of Sirius Black being a publicity stunt sent Cassie into another laughing fit. Atticus chuckled. "It's true! He was absolutely furious when I wrote and told him how some of my friends couldn't go to Hogsmeade—"

  "You talk to your family about me, Forbes?" Cassie teased, earning an eye roll from Atticus.

  "Very funny. Only occasionally, because they don't.. well, my dad seems to ignore every mention of you in my letter." Cassie's eyebrows furrowed. Atticus was quick to recover, "Oh, it's not as though he dislikes you; he probably just doesn't like the thought of me having friends other than Cedric."

     "Why is that?"

  "He.. he thinks that because I'm already friends with Cedric, that he's enough and I don't need any more. He also refuses to meet any of my friends — even growing up, when I went to muggle school, he didn't let me bring any friends home. No idea why..."

  Cassie made to ask further about his family, but upon seeing the guarded look on his usually gleeful face, thought better of it. Besides, before she could even open her mouth, Hermione rounded the corner and stood directly in front of the pair of them, a look of defiance on her face. She clutched four books in her arms, and Cassie's eyes fell upon an illustration of a werewolf on the back of the last one. Her eyes widened slightly. She stood.

  "Can I speak with you, Cassie?" Hermione asked, only glancing at Atticus before turning on her heel and walking off, already presumably expecting Cassie to follow.

  "I guess I'll see you later, Cassidy," Atticus said, saluting with two fingers as Cassie trailed after Hermione — who refused to answer any of Cassie's questions as she stormed through the castle. She was nearly breathless by the time they reached the girls' dorm.

  Hermiine made sure Lavender wasn't in the room before rounding on Cassie, holding up a book. Her eyes skimmed the front — 'Lupine Biology 101; How to Spot a Half-breed', the cover read. Cassie felt her stomach sink.

  "Is your dad a werewolf?" she asked.

     Cassie's mouth fell dry. She cleared her throat, adjusting her weight between her feet. "What makes you s—?"

  "The signs are everywhere, Cassie! He only misses class when the full moon is approaching or it's just passed; I'm assuming the potion Snape has been brewing for him is Wolfsbane; and not even to mention that his boggart was the moon—"

  Hermione had begun pacing back and forth as she listed off the reasons. Cassie watched her with, now that the initial shock factor had worn off, an amused expression. Hermione froze in her tracks. "What's so funny?"

"That's ridiculous, Hermione!" she exclaimed, before collapsing onto her bed in laughter. "My dad? Remus Lupin? A werewolf! He's terrified of dogs, first of all. Scared of the moon because he hates nighttime. The potion is for his sickness — he really is very ill, you know, it's quite serious— and the missing class on a full moon theory is utterly nonsense. If he really were a werewolf, why take the day off, if the transformation happens at night?"

  Slowly and tentatively, Hermione began laughing with her, and a wave of relief flooded Cassie's chest. Hermione dropped the books onto her bed. "Yeah, I suppose that would be quite outrageous," she admitted, now giggling with Cassie.

  Cassie exhaled another laugh. "I mean, really, my dad? A bloody werewolf? That's mental, Hermione."