[Spitfire : Chapter Fifty-Nine]

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21 June, 1995

     Mrs. Darlington was giving her muggle neighbor Maryellen Jones a tour of Diagon Alley before the school year started, before Ms. Jones would have to bring her twin muggleborn daughters to retrieve their first year supplies. Sketchy characters with torn up robes watched the two golden-haired women, one who was amused and the other who was completely fascinated by any floating device in sight.

          "Darling, look at that!" Ms. Jones mused, pointing toward a color-changing owl. "How magnificent, do you think my girls would like one of those?"

        "I'd infer you wouldn't, Mare," Mrs. Darlington told, keeping Ms. Jones from pulling out her purse any farther than it was. "That shop is Slytherin-run. I wouldn't be surprised if that owl is drugged up with all kinds of poison to make it change so unnaturally."

      "Slytherin-run?" Inquired Ms. Jones. "Isn't your husband a Slytherin?"

       "Aye, and I wouldn't trust that bastard two hours alone with my little Cindy."

       Ms. Jones frowned. "Well, perhaps all Slytherins aren't bad—aren't there other houses? There must be some bad eggs in those houses as well."

       "Slytherins house is known for its ability to produce the most ruthless of dark wizards. As a muggle, you wouldn't understand—but in the seventies it was horrid. I was in third year when everything began with the pureblood revolution, thousands died and even more suffered unimaginable tortures. And the man who ran everything, You-Know-Who—er, well, Voldemort, was a Slytherin. So were all of his loyal supporters. Trust me, Mare, never trust a Slytherin. I made that mistake back in sixth year and now I suffer daily."

       Ms. Jones was at a loss for words. "Darling, I-I just can't believe that all of them are as bad as you say."

     "Merlin, you're the most Hufflepuff-like muggle I've ever met." Mrs. Darlington sighed. "Here, lets go get some butterbeer—I know just the place with the finest brew in Euprope."

Ms. Jones didn't give the slightest indication she was put down by any of the nasty glared by the common dwellers of Diagon Alley. Rather, she was focused on asking Mrs. Darlington every nutrition fact of butterbeer—as one of her twins suffered from chronic juvenile-behavior. Once the pair attempted to walk through the two front doors of Angelo's Pub, they were face-to-face with trouble.

       "Oi," Said a man, missing one of his top front teeth. "Miss, no mudblood allowed."

        "Pardon!?" Mrs. Darlington asked, growing hostile at the use of the slur.

        "What is a mudblood?" Questioned Ms. Jones.

        "It's what you are, little lady." Said the one-toothed mans pal, walking over from the barstool he sat on. "We asked that you two missus leave, we don't allow your kind."

       Ms. Jones looked up at Mrs. Darlington—Darlington seethed. "We just want two bloody glasses of butterbeer, you're really going to let your insolent prejudice deprive the pub of currency?"

       "We'd loose even more if we let one of those beasts trek all willy-nilly on our grounds. Diagon Alley has suffered financially ever since they passed the Muggleborn-Tolerance Act. But our grounds hasn't went under once, we're the most efficiently run pub in the United Kingdom. We can't stop that now because your little pet wants a treat."

      Ms. Jones mouth formed an 'o' shape. "Ahh, I see what's happening here."

       "Oi," Called the one-toothed drunk, "you're Bert Darlington's wife, eh?" He know you're here?"

    "What business what that be for him?" Mrs. Darlington asked incredulously. "And you're Gerald Bellbottom, aye? The piss-bucket with a gerbils tooth?"

       "What the bloody hell you just call me, bitch?!"

       "Calm yourself, Bellbottom," Said the gerbil-mouths friend, holding an arm back to hold him from attacking. "ladies trynna get a ride out of you. But I can assure you, Mrs. Darlington, it will not work. Now I suggest you and your friend leave here before we're forced to summon your husband—yeah?"

      "You think I'm scared of that bastard?" Mrs. Darlington asked, now it was just Bellbottom's friend and Darlington. "I can take him on in a fist fight if I had too, and I'll have him on the ground weeping. A lot like you two pigs, Mare—let's leave, this hall of rubbish doesn't deserve a fraction of our time."

Mrs. Darlington turned and Ms. Jones stayed facing the two shites in the doorway. "I suggest that you two lads hit a club sometime." Said the woman. "There's plenty of fish in the sea, and hopefully some can cure those cranky attitudes of yours."

        The woman tutted and then spun on her heels to follow Mrs. Darlington who awaited her a couple feet down the path. "Feel better, Mare?"

     "I'm assuming those two are Slytherins?"

      "You assume right, they're the biggest You-Know-Who supporters of graduating class of 1975–besides my husband, of c—MARE!"

      Maryellen Jones was convulsing on the ground, gripping various locations of her body where patches of long silky hair began to erupt. Mrs. Darlington looked back at Angelo's Pub to spot drunken Bellbottom rolling on the floor, yelping like a hyena high on funny gas. His friend stood beside him with his arms crossed, a wand in his right hand and his mouth curved into a smirk.

      Inscribed on his right arm was the notorious mark of the Lord Voldemort's rebellion.

Darlington left her weeping friends side and ran toward the smirking pest, her wand raised menacingly. "Stupefy!" The man silently swung her stunner spell away, shooting his own pink-colored spell that she was able to throw back at him. He dodged it again, and she repeatedly shot out stunners—after blocking most, and unintentionally sending one at his friend, he was struck in the leg.

"You bloody bitch!" He seethed, his lower extremities paralyzed to the bone. "You've screwed up, Darlington! I—You've screwed up!"

"Oh quit your crying ball-sucker, you're lucky I'm not calling the authorities." Darlington said, spitting at his feet. "Try something like that on my or any of my companions ever. and you'll be sleeping with the bloody sharks. Aye?"

"Whore."

Darlington stepped forward to kick him but a customer in the pub shooed her away. With a final glance toward the lad on the ground, Darlington turned and made her way toward Jones who was . . . completely still. "Mare?"

No response, no movement—not even a single fidget. Whatever jinx that had been put upon her was gone—although Ms. Jones still laid unmoving on a sodden path of gravel and ripped up newspaper shreds. "Jones, you're scaring me here." Mrs. Darling ran over, standing above the woman—her eyes stared blankly to the cloudy sky. There wasn't a single movement . . . no blinking, no shifting . . . no breathing. "Bloody hell, Mare!" Darlington began to shake her shoulder, she grabbed her cheek and shifted Mare's face to face her own. Her cheek was warm and wet, fallen tears drying slowly but surely.

Maryellen Jones had died that night, she suffered a brain aneurysm triggered by the overflow of adrenaline she faced in the midsts of her overflow of emotion. Confusion, embarrassment, fear. Ms. Jones, quite literally, passed of fear.

Mrs. Darlington wept into the arms of her young child, and comforted Ms. Jones' two orphaned little girls.

Death Eaters from all around London celebrated in Diagon Alley, breaking windows and setting fires to business signs. Voldemort confided in his most loyalest followers, ordering them to rally up anyone they can find to help further the pureblood-superiority regime.

All was not well in the wizarding world, the chaos and killing was only beginning.

ツ

       "I need to get ahold of Dumbledore," Cassie croaked, pacing back and forth the Grimmauld Place foyer. Her hair was white, and her lip trembled—every time she took a breath it wavered in her chest. She was weeping like a first year for a very understandable reason. "I-I, Fred! Stop laughing!"

     "You really didn't notice until now?!" Fred asked, trying to calm himself down so he didn't further provoke his upset girlfriend. "We've been outta Hogwarts for weeks!"

     "Barely two," Cassie's lip trembled, "I cant believe it . . . he must be terrified, Fred! W-We need to get to Hogwarts somehow, he can't spend a whole summer alone!"

     "Who are we talking about, dear?" Asked the soft tone of Molly Weasley—which she only seemed to have whenever she was in proximity of Cassie or Hermione. "I'm afraid I've yet to understand the problem."

       "Mr. Cracker!" Cassie cried. "I f-forgot him at school, he's all alone!" Molly still looked clueless, Wendy leaned over to quietly explain. "I'm an awful mum, I-I, GEORGE, stop snickering!"

       "Well, dear, your little . . . pet has already been at Hogwarts for around two weeks. He's most likely adapted on living alone, he'll be fine until the next school year begins." Molly tried to sooth, Wendy was biting her knuckle to prevent herself from giggling at the overdramatic girl ahead of her.

      Just like her father.

    "What if he's already dead?!"

      "It's a possibility," Wendy chimed, then she remembered she was speaking to Cassie and not Sirius. "Oh—I'm kidding, Cassie. That Nutcrackers been through hell since the seventies, he can survive a lonely summer in Hogwarts. He's done it before."

Cassie was too devastated to realize what Wendy had said. The seventies . . . the Nutcracker is over thirty years old . . . Wendy knew of it?

       "You should just enjoy your birthday, dear, better appreciate it than worry about things that don't need worrying." Molly said, receiving snorts from everyone of her children. "Ignore them, they've yet to realize that every little thing they do makes me worry—especially the lookalikes. Your Nutcracker, on the other hand, isn't as feeble as the human body—the thing can crunch nuts, can't it? It'll be fine, and when you go back to school you'll find him safe and sound in your old dorm."

     "You have a way with words, Ms. Weasley." Wendy stated. "How come your brothers spoke such stupid? As a first year I had more common sense than them."

         "They took after my mother."

"Wasn't grammy a bitch?" Ginny asked, her mother looked at her scandalously.

Molly gasped. "Ginevra!"

"What?! Bill said so!"

"He did not," Fred said, defending his older brother. "Grammys a saint, dont you rememebr her calling you Gin-Gin and pinching your chubby cheeks as a baby?"

"The only bitch back then was you." George added, snickering. "Never met an infant more miserable than you."

"And I've never met a slug as slimy as yourself, Georgie."

Ron chimed from his spot beside Hermione on the sofa. "Do we have anymore biscuits?"

        "I think we've strayed away from the main topic here," Cassie interrupted, her white hair pooling with a blood red. "My Nutcracker!"

        Molly Weasley sighed, standing up with a push on her silent husbands shoulder. "I'll go make some more biscuits, watch them, Arthur."

"The Nutcracker is fiiiiiiine," Sirius exaggerated, "bloody thing could survive Azkaban, I reckon. He can survive a summer alone at the most comfortable place on Earth."

       "What if someone's found him?" Cassie asked rather aggressively, stunning her father immensely. "What if Snape decided to spend the summer? O-Or the Bloody Baron got em'? Nutcrackers always up to no-good, Merlin, WHAT IF PEEVES GOT HIM? D-Didn't Harry say there was a three-headed dog at Hogwarts?"

"Fluffy!" Hermione exclaimed, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Demon-dog." Ron added, his eyes darkening with a traumatizing memory.

Cassie gulped, looking back and forth between Ron, Hermione, and Sirius. "I-I'm feeling faint."

     George looked at Cassie who stood right in front of him—then he was shoved on the floor . . . by Fred. "You heard the lady," his twin said. "she's feeling faint—here, c'com, Cas. Sit down." Cassie obeyed, and George whacked his twin on the back of the head as he made his way to his mother in the kitchen.

"Fluffy doesn't eat Nutcrackers, just people." Ron exclaimed, Hermione jabbed him in the arm with her elbow.

"What he means is, Fluffy is no longer at Hogwarts." Hermione said. "After the incident with Harry, Dumbledore made sure Hagrid had Fluffy relocated. The Nutcracker should be safe and sound, Cassie, trust me. I'm the wartiest worry-wart to ever live, and right now I don't think there's anywhere safer where the Nutcracker could be."

"You've never even met the bloody thing!" Cassie exclaimed. "He's a menace, cursed with a death wish in his minuscule little wooden body!" Fred put a secretive arm on Cassie's back, she peered over and he raised his brows—I need to talk to you. Cassie bit her lip and nodded. "I-I'm overreacting guys, I-I'm sorry. I know you're all trying to help, the Nutcracker will be fine. I'm going to go rest, b-bye."

"Get some shut-eye, sleeping is the best cure for heart wrenching bouts of stress." Sirius called out to her, "For me, at least. Aspen studied to feel better—odd lass, she was."

Fred stood up. "I'm going to go experiment with flubber—if you hear any loud crashes, blame Ron."

"Hey!" Ron shouted—for everyone but Fred to hear. Fred had already popped away, abusing his new certification in apparition.

       Cassie was sitting outside her bedroom door, her chin balanced on her knees that hugged closely to her chest. She stared at the wall ahead of her until there was a pair of legs. Cassie looked up to see Fred smiling down at her. "Evening, m'lady."

       "What do you have planned?"

       "Pardon?" Fred's brow quirked, and he bent down in order to be face-to-face with the girl.

       "Y-You wanted to get away from everyone—don't you have something planned? To get Nutcracker?"

       Fred sighed. "Cassieeeee, you know he's going to be fine."

       "No I d—"

      "Oi," Fred interrupted, the tip of his index finger lightly pushing on her bottom trembling lip. "that Nutcracker has double the nine lives of cats. And by now he's on his fifth or sixth—he's stealthy, and mean. He's also a master at deterring authority—as you should know. I want him to teach my children his way of working whenever they come to be. You know this, all of this, and yet I am reminding you—why? This surely cannot be whats wrong." Cassie's head fell back onto her knees and she hugged her legs tighter. Her hair deepened into a dark gloomy purple—Fred sat entirely down with a frown. "Is your arm hurting?"

Cassie glanced at her hand with a frown and shook her head. "I guess I'm a bit homesick."

"Homesick? For Hogwarts?" Fred inquired. "We're going back in a couple months, I knew you were dramatic but this dramatic?!"

"No, you arse." Cassie said, shoving his shoulder resulting him into falling into a sitting position. "I miss my home-home. With my mum."

Fred tilted his head. "You've never acted like this before . . . and what, you guys were apart for two years? What's changed now?"

"Well, Fred, before I wiped all good memories of her and put them into the bin of lies--but now I have forgiven her and I-I had the chance to go home," Cassie wiped her cheek aggresively, "and now I'm stuck in Dracula's manor."

"It's to keep you safe, Cas, you were attacked."

"And I'm alive, aren't I? I protected myself before, and I can do it again." Her hair flushed into a mixture of oranges and red. "Especially now, I'll be of age in less than a week!"

"What about Kendra, eh?" Fred asked, the corner of his lips quirking knowingly. "Forget about the magicless squib you live with?"

"She has a handgun."

"I'm afraid, unless Kendra is familiar with head shots, words are faster than bullets m'lady." Fred said, Cassie frowned. "I know you want to go home, I would too if my mum weren't here . . . well, no, yeah, if my mom weren't here I'd be as upset as you. But Cas, you need to remember, this is both for your and her protection--Death Eater's arent sent in singles, they're sent in groups. Fiesty little groups that like to steal your sweets and leave lil sissy crying next to mummy's body. We can't have Spitfire and mummy Snow . . . like that. Who's going to watch me graduate?"

"You think you can graduate?"

"Despite popular vote, I am incredibly intelligent." Fred moved closer to her. "I'm not only handsome, madame."

Next thing Fred knew, a wand was pointed at his nose. Cassie's eyes were dark and menacing, her hand not shaking the slightest. "Don't ever speak French to me again."

Fred pressed on the skin just outside of Cassie's cast, she yelped and in midsts of her quick pain Fred snatched her wand. "Gotta work better than that, little Spitfire." Cassie stood up, he as well. They were face-to-face with an inch difference--Fred was smirking smugly and Cassie's expression mimicked Filch's on a good day. "Red hair? Oooooo, scary. I'm bloody terrified--YOUCH!"

Cassie had kneed Fred in the no-no groin, and ran took her wand from his hand--and his from his pocket. She ran, jumping down nearly an entire flight of stairs. Cassie was forced into a skid stop when a figure popped in front of her. "Bollucks! You can't just apparate everywhere, Fred, it's no fun!"Fred ignored her and smugly took back his wand. He then attacked her . . . hugged her--tightly. "Wha're yu'oin?" Cassie asked with a mouthful of his shirt.

"Mum, Dad, Cassie and I are going out!" Fred shouted, there was a clangle from the kitchen and a shout relatively familiar to 'no' and then Cassie felt herself morph into a dust particle and spin like a child on a sugar high. Once Cassie felt her feet touch the ground again, Cassie punched Fred in the chest. "Ow, my nipple!"

"You bl-OOoh-oody tampon!" Cassie shouted, gagging in the midsts of her insult. "I-I'm going to vomit, Fred--I'M GOING TO VOMIT!"

"Don't vomit on me!" He shouted, laughing. She glared at him, and he sighed. "Are you okay?"

"Come 'ere."

"Pardon?"

Cassie waved him over, "Come 'ere, Fred."

Concerned, he walked over. "Are you really going to vomit?"

Cassie's head slighly went up to face him, and once it did--he was met with a face from his nightmares--Filch. On Cassie's body, with her gorgeous blue hair, was the wrinkly-miserable face of Argus Filch. "Give me a kith, Freddie-boy!"

"I think I'm the one who might vomit." Fred said, taking a step back with an expression of horror. "Yup, I am--DON'T GET CLOSER!"

Cassie laughed, her gravelly Mr. Filch voice switching back to her own. Her face softened, and shrunk into the face Fred--and everyone else in the bloody world--was familiar with. She smiled brightly to his disgusted and scarred expression. "Can I get a kith now?"

"I-I-I d-don't--" Fred was stopped midspeech as her lips collided with his own. Before he could return her act, she had taken a step back with a chesire grin.

"So, where'd you take me?" She twirled around to get a better look down the . . . alley way they were in. "Ooh, are we in downtown London?"

"I-um," he gulped. "Yes. I'm hungry, aren't you? Let's go get some pizza."

         "Yessir," Cassie grinned, yet she was the one who directed them both to the closest pizza shop on London Ave. "Merlin, I feel awfully better now—must've been a random emotion attack."

        "Or maybe I've succeeded in curing your depression because you like me so much."

      "Nah, I just pushed everything to the back of my mind."

       "Even the Nutcracker?" Cassie whipped her head to look at him.

       "Do not speak of him, Fred." She turned ahead to the two glass doors of the shop and flung them open, walking inside and not caring to hold them for her boyfriend behind her. "Hello, we'd like pizza please."

       "What kind?"

        "Sausage." Cassie answered immediately.

        "Half sausage half pepperoni," Fred added, "Large coke, and a chocolate milk for the little one."

       "Fred, you aren't that little . . ."

       "Just go get us a bloody seat, Cas."

      Cassie grinned, walking off. "I want a sprite by the way, medium!"

Once she found a bench to sit at, she happily shifted herself toward the edge which was cornered by a wall. She pulled out her wand, and quickly went wide-eyed . . . muggles. She hid her wand behind the napkin dispenser, but still in an area accessible in case a Death Eater found they craved pizza.

Cassie's fingers drizzled on top the table, letting off soft padding noises in the midsts of the latest British best hit. Her foot tapped, and she focused on the cars outside to distract herself. She did miss her mum, yes, but she may had lied a teensy bit on why she went absolutely bonkers earlier that evening.

She hadn't gotten any sleep.

Cassie was up all night, thinking about Death Eaters, her loved ones, and both of them meeting—terribly. She imagined her friends lying on the group, their eyes wide and blank. She imagined George Weasley dead, not Fred, though—rather, he was sobbing while clutching his twin brothers corpse. A sight that refused to leave her mind. Cassie imagined Kendra being tortured and . . . eaten by Fenrir Greyback.

She imagined bloody Sirius being arrested and sent back to Azkaban as Voldemort and his buddies laughed and cheered.

Her nights had been going like that for a while, but usually she managed at least three hours of sleep. This time she had none, and once breakfast was being made—she emerged from her room and drank nearly two gallons of caffeinated tea.

When the Nutcracker spontaneously jumped into her mind, all of Cassie's pent up stress had blown up in a Hiroshima-sized explosion.

"Alright, pizza's here." Fred said, balancing the pizza on his left palm and holding his coke—Cassie's sprite was being hugged to his chest, most likely spilling from how tightly he held it. "You alright?"

      "Aye, just spaced out." Cassie said, sitting up and rubbing her hands together excitedly. "I haven't eaten since this morning."

       "Neither have I," Fred said, sitting down and opening up the box. "bloody marvelous—not a imperfection in sight."

"You never say that to me."

"Well, your nose is a tad crooked—"

Cassie blew her straw wrapper into his face, and he clenched his eyes closed with a—'why?' expression. She flashed a grin and then took a mouthful of her sprite.

       "I'm going to pretend you hadn't just shot me right there and then." Fred said, swallowing a bite of his slice of pepperoni pizza. "Cass, you know how Harry won a bunch of cash at the end of the tournament?"

      "Merlin, I forgot about that!" Cassie said, her eyes wide. "Lads a thousand-aire now, isnt he?"

       "He was, momentarily."

        "Oh gods, what did he do?"

       "He gave it away."

       "He gave it away?" Cassie asked, absolutely flabbergasted. "H-He gave away money?! To who?!"

        "Me." Fred grinned. "And George. Both of us—he donated it to our cause."

      "Your cause . . ." Cassie slowly repeated. "of tormenting Filch, quite literally, to death?"

       "We have many causes, that one is surely on the list." Fred joked, "But no, our main cause."

      Cassie was still clueless.

       "We're opening a shop, Cas!" Fred said excitedly, his hushed tone raising a couple trillion octaves. "Harry gave us the money that will help George and I open a prank shop in Diagon Alley."

       "You're kidding."

       "Not this time, m'lady." Fred grinned. "George and I have already been scouting, theres a few places for rent in Diagon Ally, we're hoping to be settled down by graduation."

       "How long have you been planning this?!" Cassie asked, "How did Harry know? How didn't I know?! Merlin, Fred, MERLIN!"

        "I wanted it to be a surprise," Fred said, grinning. "Harry knew because he's Harry, he focuses on the wrong things. But anyway, we weren't sure if we'd ever get the money to do anything so grand as this—we've only had the money for a bit now. George wanted me to wait to tell you until the sale was official, but I feel now is a perfect time—with the pizza, and all."

"Yes, pizza, perfect time to tell me you're officially a business owner."

"Not officially," Fred smiled cheekily, "haven't bought anything yet."

"You cheeky bastard, I'm proud of you!" Cassie said, throwing a slice of pepperoni at him . . . affectionately. "I'm dating a bloody genius!"

       Fred's ears flushed red. "Oi, it's a partnership—no matter how ugly George may be, we cannot exclude him. But don't say anything to anyone yet, just George and I. Especially not mum."

      "I'm dating a dork that's afraid of mummy  who has a genius brother." Cassie smirked, Fred rolled his eyes. "I'm kidding, I won't tell anyone besides Buckbeak. But Buckbeaks got your back. If he doesn't, then oops."

      "Ah, yes, oops." Fred chuckled. "I should start using that with mum and dad."

      "It's work efficiently, wouldn't it?"

      Both Fred and Cassie managed to consume enough of the pizza that there was only a single slice of pepperoni left. It grew colder and colder as the two joked around, and made references to each other that caused immense color changed in either their hair or ears. The sky outside grew darker, and the cashier in front of the shop became more and more reluctant to kick the two young lovers out.

      Unfortunately, he didn't have that honor. Bill Weasley did.

     Bill came crashing into the shop, beads of sweat dripping off his brows. "There you two bloody are!"

      "Shite," Fred said, slamming the table and standing up, "Cass, run!"

       "No you don't," Bill said, harshly grabbing his younger brothers shoulder. "we're going home, c'mon Cassie."

      "You've got quite a grip, Billiam, care to release me?"

      "Cassie, quick!" Bill yelled from the door, Cassie pulled her wand from the napkin dispenser and quickened her pace to the two Weasleys. "We've got to go."

      "Why?" Fred asked, rubbing his shoulder when Bill finally released it.

      "What happened? Is everyone okay?" Cassie continued.

      "A woman's been killed in Hogsmeade," Bill explained, directing them to the nearest unpopulated alleyway. "A muggle woman."

      "Death Eaters?" Fred inquired.

      "Not officially, but it was a supporter." Bill said. "The news was released an hour ago, and the actual Death Eaters are going on rampages. A couple muggleborns were killed in Diagon Alley, and I'm pretty sure Zonko's is on fire."

      "Not Zonko's!" Fred gasped, "this is all bloody happening now?!"

     "Aye, and you two decided to go on a bloody date at the perfect moment." Bill grumbled. "Mums had me searching the bloody country—I went everywhere you've ever been. Thankfully, you haven't been to many places, you're quite sheltered Fred."

      "We weren't on a date." Cassie quickly stated, looking at Fred who had wide eyes.

      "Oi, you two couldn't have been more obvious the entire week we've been together." Bill said, "but no worries, no one else knows as far as I know. But that's not important, we've got to go—you two ready?"

      Cassie looked at Fred, and he at her. Simultaneously, they both replied, "Ready."

      With a pop, they were gone. Moments later, chaos was unleashed down the road from the pizza shop both Cassie and Fred ate at. A young muggle woman and her three year old daughter were killed, and the husband injured—losing a leg to an ecstatic drunk Death Eater with a trigger happy wand hand.

Authors Note:

Ahem, I'm sorry. That's all I have to say, honestly, how else do I re-emerge from my 2 month hiatus?  Anyway, how's your day? How've ya been?

CASSIE AND FRED KISSED WTF

Er I might edit this chapter one day but that day is not today. Though, if any of youse see a fricken ridiculous ass typo please point it out—or even a plot hole I accidentally created. I feel like that may be possible.

Vote and comment if you liked, or if you just want to be nice, it'd be appreciated. (:

September 25, 2020
4,697 words