CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE;

CHEERFUL WISHES

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"This is an empty vial." Cassie stared at the glass in her hands and twisted it around to see if there was any article of importance somehow imbedded into it, but no such luck. It was simply an old phial that wasn't even occupied by a cool potion. She returned her eyes to the Minister, her lips twisting in a scowl. "What kind of joke is this?"

"It is not a joke, Miss Black," Rufus Scrimgeour said, nodding serenely. Cassie stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but none came. She exhaled a disbelieving, dry laugh and dropped the vial into her lap.

"Why would Dumbledore will me something I could get for a Knut at Diagon Alley?" she asked, immensely unimpressed. Ron had received the infamous Deluminator; Hermione had been given The Tales of Beetle the Bard (Dumbledore's own copy); Harry had gotten both his first Snitch and the Sword of Gryffindor. Cassie felt like she had drawn the short straw.

   "I was hoping you could answer that," the Minister said, raising a bushy brown eyebrow. "Why would Albus Dumbledore give you a plain vial? Surely it has no deeper meaning? No.. code rooted in it, perhaps?"

   Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a 'Not-this-again' look – they had gone through the same thing; Scrimgeour asking if their gifts held any special meaning that could somehow help them take down the Ministry or be the cause of Scrimgeour's downfall. He had his sights set that Dumbledore was still conspiring against him.

From beyond the grave. Because that made sense.

   "Oh, Minister, I don't know," Cassie said sarcastically, wrapping her fist around the vial as to keep herself from using it to punch the man. "None that I could see. And I feel certain that a month of scanning it for Dark Magic would reveal any secret codes that Dumbledore planted for me to find."

   She raised an eyebrow challengingly. Scrimgeour shifted in his seat and clenched his jaw. It was no secret to anyone seated around the coffee table that the Ministry had clearly been searching every item that Dumbledore had left behind to see if he was somehow communicating with his army of teenaged spies and telling them how to dismantle the Ministry.

"If that's all, then.." Ron stood, heavily gesturing the Minister toward the exit. "G'bye, Minister."

Outside in the garden, in the fading pink-and-orange light of the sunset, the four objects that Scrimgeour had given them were passed from hand to hand. Everyone exclaimed over the Deluminator and lamented over The Tales of Beetle the Bard, but none of the guests could offer any suggestion as to why Dumbledore would have left Harry his Snitch, or Cassie an empty vial.

After a hastily sung chorus of "Happy Birthday" and cheerful returns, Harry's birthday party broke up. The guests hiked to the top of a nearby hill and gave one last wave before Disapparating back to the safety of their own homes. The mess was left to the inhabitants of the Burrow to pick up.

"Meet us upstairs," Harry whispered to Cassie as he passed by her to throw away his gift wrappings. "Ron's room, after everyone's gone to bed."

Cassie gave him a subtle nod and busied herself with taking down the birthday decorations, declining anyone's offer to help and waiting anxiously for the last light in the Burrow to go out. When it finally did, she tiptoed into the house and upstairs to Ron's bedroom. A sinking feeling in her stomach kindly reminded her that they didn't have much time left together, and she ought to savor every moment, really...

"Show us the Deluminator, Ron," Hermione instructed the moment Cassie arrived. Ron obliged. He held it up and clicked it; the single lamp they had lit went out at once.

"The thing is," Hermione whispered, as Ron returned the glowing ball of light to its lamp, "we could have done that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, couldn't we?"

"Still, it's cool," said Ron, a little defensively. "And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself."

"D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he left us?" asked Harry.

"Definitely," said Hermione. "He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving these things, but that doesn't mean he couldn't–"

"–couldn't give us so much as a clue?" Cassie asked, bouncing her leg. She glared at the vial in her hand, lips twisted, before letting out a defeated sigh. "It's an empty vial. Harry's got a bloody Snitch. Hermione has a child's tale. There isn't even somewhat of a correlation between our items."

"Well, that's the sorta vial people use to store their memories, innit?" Ron asked, looking between the glass in Cassie's hands and Cassie herself. A thoughtful silence settled over the teenagers until Ron added, uncertainly, "Right?"

"No, you're right," said Hermione, brow furrowed. "You're right, Ron. When people take out their memories and are preparing to store them in a pensieve – or, maybe, give them to someone else – they use that skinny vial instead of a normal stout one."

"Begs the question, why did Dumbledore expect me to remove some of my memories, then, doesn't it?" Cassie asked sourly, slouching back in her chair and rubbing the bridge of her nose. There was no need to even lift her head, she could practically feel the withering stares her three friends were sharing over her head. She muttered, "I already know you lot are glancing at each other. Can't we address the hippogriff in the room?"

   "We have to use an Aging Potion," said Ron, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We have to! There's no way we're leaving you behind–"

   "We can't trick an entire Ministry using an Aging Potion, Ron," said Hermione with a grimace. "Plus, what happens when it wears off?"

   "Then.. we can use a Time-Turner–" Ron cut himself off at their expressions and frowned, shaking his head disappointedly. "Yeah, I didn't think that would work anyway."

   "What is the trace, really, Hermione?" said Harry, resting his elbows on his knees and looking up to the girl in question. "Can they track her wherever she is?"

   "If she's in the vicinity of us and we use magic, then yes," said Hermione grimly. "The trace doesn't track the witch or wizard, essentially – it only keeps tabs on whether or not there's magic used in an underage witch or wizard's proximity. Hypothetically, she could come with us.. but we wouldn't be allowed to use our magic, or the Ministry would find us. So either you have got to stay behind, Cassie, or we do take you and get around as Muggles for the next four months."

"There's no way 'round it, then?" Ron asked, deflating as the truth finally set in. Hermione shook her head sadly. Ron's jaw trembled. "We've got to leave her here?"

"Who said anything about staying here?" said Cassie, lifting her head and speaking up again. Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked to her in shocked confusion. Cassie pressed on, "No, I refuse to wait around in a cozy home while you three are off doing.. who knows what. If I'm not allowed to come Horcrux hunting, I'll do the next best thing I can think of to take down You-Know-Who – from the inside, out. I'm going to Hogwarts."

   She didn't react as her friends suddenly began to shout out in disagreement, telling her in overlapping voices that there was no way she could go back to that school. She'd had this plan floating around in the back of her mind ever since she'd realized she couldn't go with them. It hurt to even think about, but it had to have been done by someone, and Cassie was the best candidate; underaged, skilled in Defense, and painted with a fat target on her back. The Death Eaters would be tripping over themselves to get to her instead of torturing the younger pupils of Hogwarts. She inhaled a deep breath and shut her eyes to keep a tear from dripping down her cheek.

   "Nothing you lot can say is going to convince me," she said quietly, her voice wavering – not with uncertainty, but forlornness and trivial fear. "I'm going back to school this term. I'll... I'll reinstate the D.A., with Neville and Luna and Ginny, and we can work against Voldemort, yeah? Mcgonagall's taken over as Headmistress, I'm sure of it. Listen, there are innocent children in Hogwarts; innocent professors. Bloody hell, even some of those Slytherins aren't so bad," she added, frowning at the thought of Theo. "I'm not going to let them go through this alone, right? I don't care if I have to take Polyjuice every hour while I'm there. You can try to beg me not to go, but I am not sitting around on my arse during this war. I'm going back to Hogwarts. It's final."

Her friends did not say anything for a count of ten. Finally, after Cassie had been forced to wipe a fallen tear from her cheek, Harry spoke. "You're right," he said. Cassie was taken aback, to say the least. She tried to stutter out questions, but Harry cut her off calmly. "I wasn't expecting you to sit behind, really. Going to Hogwarts is the next best thing, like you said."

   Cassie studied Harry for a moment. The two held each other's gazes; Hermione and Ron looking between them, their brows furrowed in confusion. Cassie arched an eyebrow, tapping her finger absently to her thigh. "Remember what else I said, about waiting until after the war?"

   Harry blinked. He looked from Hermione to Ron, then back to Cassie. "Er – yeah, I.. suppose. What's that got to do with–"

   "I take it back completely." Cassie stood and pulled Harry into a kiss, snaking her arms around his neck and running a hand through his messy hair. She heard Hermione give a small gasp-like noise of surprise and Ron's choke of disbelief, but neither bothered her. She kissed Harry like she had never done before – not like during fifth-year O.W.L.s, when they were both hesitant and naive; not like the mere month prior, during the battle after Dumbledore's death. This was a very real kiss, full of electricity and pent up feelings.

   When she pulled away, Harry's cheeks were a deep shade of red. He stammered something incoherent, before Cassie actually broke into a broken smile and laughed. Hermione and Ron joined in after a brief moment, then Harry – and it was just the four of them, laughing and having fun, like teenagers should on their best friend's birthday.