Potter's Girl / Butterfly Effect.

81. R.A.B.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE;

R.A.B.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Where's Harry?" Cassie dropped her book bag from her shoulder onto the floor and collapsed onto the couch next to Hermione. "I'm not missing a Quidditch practice, am I?"

"He's at a lesson with Professor Dumbledore," Hermione replied, flipping a page on her book and folding the corner to save her place. She frowned thoughtfully. "Well, it's been hours since he's gone... I wonder what's keeping him? Surely whatever Professor Dumbledore's showing him this time isn't this long?"

Cassie twisted her lips and glanced out the window. The sky was a misty, bleak grey; the sunset was barely visible behind the thick clouds. A chill shivered down Cassie's spine. The entire day had felt much too familiar for her liking – an eerie and dull feeling that had her constantly looking over her shoulder throughout her classes.

   "What d'you lot reckon's for dinner tonight?" Ron bent over the back of the couch and pat Cassie on the shoulder, looking between the two girls. Hermione returned her attention to her book, but Cassie narrowed her eyes as she stared at the fire.

"And besides, Harry's been offhanded ever since he found out where Malfoy's been disappearing to," Cassie continued, blissfully ignoring Ron. "But Harry can't be dealing with that, 'cause he's just put Malfoy in the hospital wing..." The memory nearly brought a smirk to Cassie's face. Served him right. "I wonder if he's truly found out what it is Malfoy's up to..."

"You're sure you don't fancy Harry?" Ron twisted his face in an overdramatic manner. "He seems to be on your mind every bloody moment recently."

Cassie thumped him on the head in retaliation, but verbally disregarded him again. "Didn't he also say that Professor Dumbledore's been searching for Horcruxes? Sounds a bit draining, if you ask me."

"Oh, come off it," said Ron. "I'm sure their lesson is just taking longer than exp – Merlin, Cassie, are you alright?" he asked suddenly, as Cassie had slammed a hand to her forehead and let out a great gasp of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

"Is it a vision?" Hermione asked, her voice hushed. Cassie nodded as best she could, for her voice had failed her. "Do you know how long we have?"

"Minutes," Cassie replied. "Maybe seconds."

"And there's nothing Ron and I can do to help?"

"No." Cassie looked to the pair of them reproachfully. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how unsettling it is to watch–"

"Oi, don't apologize to us!" Ron argued. "You're the one experiencing it!"

Cassie gave him a gracious smile before her mind gave a final pang of ache, dragging her into the vision. It was a damp cave, the walls made of some sort of black mineral and the floor much too deep in the water to make out. Cassie stood on an island in the center of the cave, a basin of clear liquid at the edge. She made toward it, but a crack! snapped her head to face behind her.

It was a boy, obviously no older than eighteen or nineteen, with a head of hair darker than the black walls of the cave. He had pale skin and a defined face. His hair was unkempt and hung in front of his eyes in black curls. At his side was a house-elf, whose face was familiar – minus the fact that it lacked the usual scowl of disdain – and Cassie let out a small gasp of recognition as Kreacher looked around the cave.

Her stomach rolled as Cassie realized a bone-chilling fact: If Kreacher was this boy's house-elf, then the boy was clearly apart of the House of Black – and therefore, related to Cassie. The question of 'who' was very quickly answered.