As far as she was concerned, there was nothing special about Cassidy Winters. She's simply a girl who drinks far too much coffee than she would like to admit and reads books to escape her life as an unwanted orphan. Then, when she appears in a world...
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Harry's POV:
As August wore on, I still hadn't made things up with Cassidy.
She had taken it upon herself to tell us all the things that would happen on our mission to break into the Ministry, step-by-step.
Cass also insisted we do nothing for her birthday which made the three of us feel more guilty than ever- especially since we have yet to talk about us.
When we were at the Burrow and we had shared stolen kisses and a memorable night with one another, I was happy. It was easy to forget the oncoming war.
But there is a war. And I can't afford to be distracted from the main goal of this entire mission Dumbledore sent us on.
Speaking of, I was still not entirely satisfied with the idea of seeing Umbridge again, especially after she had tried to use the cruciatus curse on me, but we needed the locket.
To add to the list of things worrying me, death eaters remained outside of Grimmauld Place, not looking to move anytime soon. By the first day of September, there were half a dozen men in long cloaks who stood silent and watchful, gazing at houses eleven and thirteen.
Meanwhile, inside number twelve, I had just entered the hall, nearly losing my balance as I apparated onto the top step just outside the front door.
Shutting the front door carefully behind me, I pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, draped it over my arm, a stolen copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in my hand. Cassidy had also decided to maintain our watch on the entrances to the Ministry.
"I've got news, and you won't like it," I said loudly, summoning the other three down the stairs.
Entering the kitchen, I glanced around at the copper pots and pans that had been burnished to a rosy glow, the wooden tabletop that gleamed, the goblets and plates already laid for dinner, and a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering.
Nothing in the room, however, was more dramatically different than the house-elf who now came hurrying toward me, dressed in a snowy-white towel, his ear hair as clean and fluffy as cotton wool, Regulus's locket bouncing on his thin chest.
"Shoes off, if you please, Master Cassidy's Partner, and hands washed before dinner," croaked Kreacher, seizing the Invisibility Cloak and slouching off to hang it on a hook on the wall, beside a number of old-fashioned robes that had been freshly laundered.
"What's happened?" Ron asked apprehensively. He, Hermione, and Cassidy had just entered the kitchen. I sat down at the table where the table was set up, putting the prophet down in the middle of the table.
