Hateful Love

Chapter Thirty-Three

NOTE: I do not own any of the ideas or characters expressed in this story (except Cassie Jackson). All of these belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Cassie P.O.V.

“Watch it!”

My screech sounds unnaturally loud in the Room of Requirement, and many of the third years stop practicing, gaping over at me. As I seethe with anger, the kid who’d cast the spell looks up at me in terror.

“That almost hit me!” I snap, furious that the guy couldn’t even disarm a metal dummy. “Were you even aiming at the dummy?”

The third year’s eyes flick over the metal figure fearfully, his mouth hanging open wordlessly. He opens and closes it for a moment, then replies in a squeaky voice, “It—it was an accident. It’s h—hard to aim.”

I calm down a bit once I see how terrified he is. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I turn to everyone else and say, “Go on, get back to work.”

As they reluctantly turn away to continue practicing Expelliarmus, I bend down slightly so I’m eye level with the third year. He looks up at me with wide eyes that don’t seem to require blinking, and I tell him much more calmly than earlier, “Listen, kid, it’s alright. I just got mad, that’s all. Relax.” When he only seems to get more upset, I reach my hand up to place it comfortingly on his shoulder.

He backs away before my fingers can even brush the fabric of his shirt. The third year looks at me with even more fear than before, then disappears into the group of students.

I realize my hand is still hanging in the air, stopped halfway through its journey to the boy’s shoulder. I drop it slowly, staring at the floor uncertainly. What the hell? Was it something I said? I mean, I know I yelled at him, but it was almost like he was…scared of me.

Straightening up, I shake my head to try and clear the third year from my mind. He’s probably just a twitchy kid who gets scared easily, and there’s no reason for me to worry about it.

I continue on with my lesson, being extra mindful of where the third years are aiming their spells. It’s a Saturday, so we got them together early this morning to practice their disarming spells. It was extremely difficult to get myself out of bed just for this.

I mean, I’ve put up with helping out the younger students in the Room of Requirement for some time now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret ever agreeing to it. I hate doing it, and I now have an extreme grudge against Neville for ever asking me. So I’m not surprised to find that I’m furious when he runs over to me after the lesson is over, asking, “Cassie, I’m sorry, but I need another favor.”

As the rest of the third years file out the door, I turn to Neville and slowly let out a sigh, in the hopes that it will lessen my anger. It doesn’t. I run my fingers through my hair and say as calmly as I can, “I don’t think so, Neville.”

“Look, I know you hate the teaching,” Neville counters immediately. “But this is different.”

I cross my arms as Ginny and Luna come over to stand beside Neville, looking at me hopefully. A bit more harshly than intended, I snap, “Well, what is it then?”

“It’s the Carrows,” Ginny tells me smoothly. Before she can continue, I shake my head and push past her, saying, “No. Absolutely not.”

I’m just a few steps from the door when her next words stop me dead in my tracks. “They’ve got a first year chained up in the dungeons.”