The Cassiopeia Project [George Weasley] ✓

TEN

Going back to Hogwarts was a relief for Cassie. Christmas had passed by in a blur of small gifts, awkward carol-singing and exchanging letters back and forth with half of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. The leather photo album rested at the bottom of her trunk, since she hadn't found the right time to browse through it —or had the courage to even open the first page.

King's Cross was bustling with activity when the muggle taxi dropped the girl at the station doors. Platform nine and three-quarters was as crowded as it had been in September 1st, and Cassie wondered how many people had actually stayed at Hogwarts. Probably not a lot.

"Cass!"

Angelina Johnson's voice boomed through the station, the dark-skinned girl running through the crowd with her dreadlocks flowing behind. Cassie smiled and waved lightly, happy to see her friend. The holidays had made her revert to the state of mind she had been in during the summer, but once the redhead stepped foot in the magical platform, she felt a little bit more optimistic.

"Hi Angie."

While they carried their trunks into a compartment, both girls chatted idly about their holidays —mostly Angelina launching into a crazy story involving two French boys—, and reunited with an over-enthusiastic Alicia that had just arrived with her family.

"If we're like this after two weeks, I don't want to know how's it going to be in summer." Cassie laughed once they were in their compartment, the train slowly abandoning the station.

"We'll visit each other." Alicia assured, taking out a magazine from her backpack. "Have you read Rita Skeeter's last article on Lockhart?"

On the cover, the words Witch Weekly were printed in bold, red letters. Cassie recognized the title from St. Mungo's waiting room. Her eyes had been fixated in the pile of magazines for hours on end, waiting for some doctor to bring the bad news. She felt a lump in her throat, and stinging around the corners of her eyes. Everything was suddenly blurred, and the girl stood up, legs threatening to give up.

"I-I've got to... bathroom..." She choked out, and left the compartment quickly, feeling about to puke.

The Gryffindor stumbled down the corridor and into the restroom, which was thankfully empty. She emptied her stomach in the nearest toilet and stayed there for a couple of minutes, gagging at the burning sensation in her throat and crying nonstop.

Cassie looked at herself in the mirror. Sixteen years old and her eyes held more sadness than any other teenager's. It was unfair, she thought while examining her pale cheeks with tears running down them, no one should go through that much pain so young. It was unfair. Diana Moore had her whole life ahead, she was only thirty-three when that bastard had run over her. Cassie only hoped that asshole would rot in jail.

The water splashing in her face knocked some sense into her again. Sure, the tears were still there, but at least her mind wasn't dizzy with memories of her mother anymore, one after the other. The teenager stayed there for a while, crying and hiccupping, trying to recompose herself. It really wasn't fair.

Sighing, Cassie left the restroom after half an hour. Angelina and Alicia hadn't come to check on her, but that wasn't a surprise. She knew she didn't matter to anybody.

"Hey, Cassie."

The unmistakable voice of Fred Weasley made her jump. Positioned on both sides of the door, were the twins.

"W-What...?" She tried to speak, stunned.

George smiled kindly at her.

"Angie and Alice told us, so we came to see if you needed anything." He explained. Cassie looked at them with wide eyes.

"I..."

"Shh, don't worry."

"Come with us."

Two hands guided her towards an empty compartment, where the three of them sat.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." George assured her.

Cassie smiled weakly, wiping away stray tears.

"Thank you."

She spent the rest of the trip in a compartment with the twins, Angelina, Alicia and Lee Jordan, listening to their conversation but not participating on it. The girl also didn't miss the worried glances her friends often sent her way, but she was too tired to deal with anything, and eventually fell asleep.

"Cass... Wake up, Cass."

George Weasley's voice interrupted her slumber. The sixteen-year-old slowly pried her eyes open, basking in the comforting look in his eyes. He smiled softly, a hand reaching out to pull the girl up from her seat.

"How are you feeling?"

Cassie shrugged, looking around. They were alone in the compartment, but she could spot Fred standing outside by the door.

"I don't know." She spoke, quietly.

George nodded, taking her backpack and carrying it for her.

"Let's go, Moore."

The cold air seemed to wake the girl up slightly, but she remained silent through the entire path towards the castle. When they reached the common room, Cassie hurried upstairs and sprinted into the shower, before any of her dormmates could spot the tears running down her cheeks again.

She pressed her head against the cool bathroom wall, red hair dripping wet and sticking to her neck and shoulders. Sobs filled the room, audible once she turned off the hot water.

"Mommy I can't reach the apples!"

Giggles filled the small garden, where a woman in her early twenties and a girl about six years old collected apples from the tree situated in the middle of the patio.

"Here, hop on my back."

Diana Moore lifted her daughter until she reached the fruit, smiling broadly.

"Good job Cassie!" She praised the little girl, who had hair as red as hers. "Now, what's the next step?"

"Get the cooking recipe!" The kid grinned, showing the gaps between her teeth, and ran inside the small house.

Diana laughed, a melodic sound that could lift even the sullenest spirit, and smoothed out her bright yellow sundress, entering the house right after her daughter.

Cassie sighed, her cheeks wet with tears and there was a salty flavour on her mouth. Making apple pie with her mother had always been her favourite activity since she was a toddler; they always ended up covered in flour and eating the whole pie in one sitting. The worn-out recipe was folded neatly at the bottom of Cassie's trunk, the edges curling from all the times she had read it after her mother's death, taking in the handwriting and crying over it, careful not to stain the parchment.

It was time to open the photo album.