❝𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲?❞
❝𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵, 𝗶 𝗱𝗼❞
Cassiopeia Narcissa Malfoy, twin sister to Draco Lucius Malfoy, was born on the fifth day of June 1980, just under thirty minutes before her brother. Being from two strong pure-bl...
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— 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 —
' *•.¸.•** . **•.¸.•*'
SHE HAD HORRID LUCK, Cassiopeia thought to herself.
First sorted into a house that conflicted with the tradition of her family and in a forced proximity with the very people her father had told her were scum ever since she was young, then continously found various ways to upset her family, and now just happened to be close with Cedric.
She wondered, had she never encountered him in that corridor after the lesson with Lockhart, would she've ever befriended him at all? Perhaps if she didn't his death wouldn't have hurt as much as it did right now.
It definitely would've been easier — to be one of the people who had only known Cedric to be the school champion, not much affected by his death. To only know him as the boy who died during the tournament, and not a friend she would miss so dearly.
And yet despite her particularly strong feelings of sorrow, she did not regret ever being friends with the boy. She was quite happy, on the contrary. Happy she had the luck to ever know someone like him. Kind, generous, fair.
So perhaps her luck wasn't so horrid after all.
Even though it was the middle of summer, the air still felt nippy, cold air blowing on her face. Or maybe that was just her imagination. She couldn't tell. Everything felt blurred for her these days.
"Cedric," she called out hoarsely. She looked around the pitch, which was now back to its original flatness, and pulling at her sleeves
Nothing. No one.
A part of her had hoped he would be there, his spirit living on as a ghost. But yet she still felt content with the fact he wasn't there. He had no unfinished business, and she was glad. At least she had that slight comfort.
She sighed. It was time for her to go to the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast. She had tried to avoid going there these days — she didn't want to be seen as the girl whose friend was just murdered.
Even as she walked through the aisle to the Gryffindor table, there were still a few who stared at her, thinking they were subtle but it was easy for Cassiopeia to spot them. She scoffed silently, slipping into the spot next to Dean.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.
"Lowsy," she answered shortly, looking up at the black drapes on the wall instead of the usual colours of the house that one the cup at the end of the year. That was what made it all too real.
Dumbledore stood up, causing the hall to go quiet. Not that it was noisy before.
"The end," he said, looking at them all, "of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here" — he gestured towards the Hufflepuffs — "enjoying our Feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."
