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Harry took two cautious steps forward, arriving at Cassandra's side.
"Miss Malfoy?" he called softly.
Cassandra, lying before him, remained deep in slumber, showing no sign of stirring.
"Cassandra?" Harry ventured again, his voice bolder as he called her name.
Yet, she still gave no indication of waking.
How could he rouse her?
Perhaps a spell might work, he thought. Maybe Revelio could uncover some message Cassandra had left behind.
Harry had always been quick to act. With this in mind, he drew his wand and intoned the incantation.
"Revelio!"
A faint glow of the detection charm flickered, but nothing happened.
The room was empty, devoid of any clues.
Harry searched for a while longer but found nothing.
If only she'd left a message like Veratia had, he thought.
Wait…
If she hadn't left any message, why not ask her directly?
True, Cassandra was in a deep sleep and couldn't speak, but magic could bridge that gap.
With this realization, Harry stood up again, gazing at Cassandra.
He raised his wand, hesitating.
But…
Would Legilimens even work on someone who'd been asleep for so long? He was skeptical.
By all accounts, Legilimens required eye contact between the caster and the target.
Still, with the mindset of trying anything once, Harry resolved to give it a shot.
He aimed his wand at Cassandra, steeling himself, and spoke the incantation.
"Legilimens!"
A dizzying sensation swept over him, and it took a moment for Harry to steady himself before opening his eyes.
He found himself in a place shrouded entirely in darkness.
Not a single trace of light existed, leaving him unable to see even his own hands.
"Lumos!"
Nothing happened. Only then did he realize he was inside Cassandra's memories, where casting spells wouldn't work.
Could it be… Legilimens didn't work on someone in a deep sleep?
Harry pondered, deciding to stay put and wait.
In such profound darkness, time lost all meaning. Harry wasn't sure how long he waited, his patience wearing thin, when a voice suddenly echoed from nearby.
"Crucio!"
A scarlet flash of light cut through the dark, and Harry instinctively stepped back, only to find a figure had already positioned itself in front of him.
"Reducto!"
After blasting the assailant with a spell, the figure collapsed to its knees, wracked with evident pain.
Harry could never forget that figure, for the scene was all too familiar.
This memory was from the second semester of his third year, when he and Cassandra had encountered poachers in the Forbidden Forest at night.
By all logic, he should see himself in Cassandra's memory, the events unfolding as they had. But as he looked around, he was nowhere to be found.
"Miss Malfoy?" he asked, approaching with concern. "Are you alright?"
Cassandra's breathing was labored, and it took her a moment to compose herself before she looked up.
"I wish you'd focus a bit more, Potter," Cassandra said, her grey eyes brimming with disdain. "Look at you, dragging me down. If it weren't for me, you'd be in deep trouble."
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, echoing his words from that night.
"Me?" Cassandra's lips curved into a smirk. "Worry about yourself, Potter. If I were you, I'd be hiding in a cave practicing spells by now."
But this time, Harry noticed something different. Cassandra wasn't as composed as she let on. Fine beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, betraying the immense pain she was enduring.
"What are you standing there for?" Cassandra snapped, her impatience clear. She seemed eager to leave this place.
"Let's go," she said.
But after taking just two steps, Cassandra suddenly stopped.
Harry froze. He remembered that night vividly—Cassandra hadn't paused. She'd marched back to Hogwarts with her head held high, heading straight to the Hospital Wing.
"What's wrong, Miss Malfoy?" Harry asked.
A brief silence hung between them.
"No need to keep pretending, Mr. Death," Cassandra said lightly. "Your acting is impressive, but you slipped up… I've relived this memory thousands of times in my sleep. I know every detail by heart."
Harry's heart jolted.
This wasn't Cassandra's memory?
Could it be… he had entered Cassandra's consciousness, and the girl before him was Cassandra herself?
Seeing Harry's lack of response, Cassandra continued, "I know you're eager to drag my soul to the underworld for daring to defy the boundary between life and death. But I'm afraid I must decline—I have more important things to do."
With that, Cassandra gave Harry a casual wave.
The conscious space shattered, and Harry found himself back in that eternal darkness.
"Cassandra?"
He called out.
No response.
Just as he was about to call again, the surroundings brightened, light flooding the space once more.
Rumble… rumble…
Harry shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight. When he came to, he found himself on the Hogwarts Express, dragging a heavy suitcase.
In the compartment before him sat a red-haired boy.
"Come on in," the boy said. "No need to be shy—my aunt asked me to look after you. Here, let's put your suitcase over there."
Harry stepped inside, letting the boy help him stow his suitcase.
"By the way, I'm Gareth," the boy said. "Gareth Weasley. I hope we both get sorted into Gryffindor."
"Why not Slytherin?" Harry asked, just as he had back then.
Gareth chuckled and explained, "I don't think you'd want Slytherin. It's mostly pure-bloods or half-bloods there. Muggle-borns like you? Almost no chance of getting sorted there."
"I see," Harry nodded, continuing the conversation. "I don't want Slytherin either. I can't stand that Headmaster Black…"
At this, Gareth's face lit up as if he'd found a kindred spirit.
He grabbed Harry's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "You're my brother now, Harry!" he declared.
As they spoke, the compartment door slid open, and a woman pushing a trolley of snacks appeared.
"Any sweets, dears?"
Harry reached for his pocket, then remembered—he hadn't had any money on him at the start of his first year.
Buy something?
The single Galleon he had was leftover from his scholarship after buying robes and books. He needed to save it.
"I'll take a bit of everything," Gareth said, pulling out a few Sickles and handing them to the trolley lady. "Let's see… two Chocolate Frogs. I love those, ma'am."
After the trolley lady left, Gareth spread the snacks across the seat.
"Try some, Harry," Gareth said with a grin. "I'm a bit of a snack fiend—can't help buying them. I won't finish all this, and it'd be a shame to waste them. Help me out, yeah?"
"Thanks," Harry said, nodding.
He wasn't sure what to do now, but following the memory's script seemed like the safest bet.
"Blowers Super Bubble Gum?" Harry picked up a piece, glancing at Gareth, who was unwrapping a package.
"Oh, that's a fun one," Gareth said, setting down his Liquorice Wand. "It lets you blow bubbles the color of bluebells that float around for days without popping. Give it a go."
Harry unwrapped the gum and popped it into his mouth.
To his astonishment, he could actually taste the bubble gum.
Now he was truly bewildered. Was this a memory or something else?
"What are these?" he asked, picking up a Chocolate Frog and turning to Gareth. "They're not real frogs, are they?"
"What?"
Gareth looked up, saw the Chocolate Frog in Harry's hand, and continued, "Oh, you wouldn't know. Chocolate Frogs come with collectible cards of famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I'm still missing Agrippa and Ptolemy."
Harry opened the Chocolate Frog and pulled out the card. It showed a man's face, wearing a tall wizard's hat and holding a long wand, looking kind and wise.
Beneath the card, it read: Merlin.
The most famous wizard of all time. Sometimes called the Prince of Enchanters, a member of King Arthur's court.
"Oh, it's Merlin," Harry said.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of Merlin!" Gareth exclaimed, shocked. "Merlin's beard… though, I suppose it's not surprising, you being Muggle-born and all…"
Before Harry could respond, the compartment door slid open again.
Standing there was Cassandra—not the first-year Cassandra, but the one who matched the sleeping figure outside, older and more composed.
Seeing Harry as his third-year self, Cassandra looked momentarily stunned.
She hadn't expected to find this Harry sitting here.
"Potter?" she asked uncertainly.
At the same time, she braced herself, ready to flee if needed.
She feared it might be Death in disguise, but she couldn't let go of the slim hope that it was truly Harry.
"Cassandra!" Harry jumped up, then glanced hesitantly at Gareth, who was still rambling about Merlin to the air. "Er, should I keep playing my part?"
Seeing Harry's awkward demeanor, Cassandra relaxed.
It was him. No one else could pull off Harry's particular brand of clumsiness.
Death might mimic Harry's form, but it could never capture this.
"So, you're in your third year now?" Cassandra asked, tilting her head, her grey eyes fixed on him.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I've been looking for you all for ages. I'm just glad I finally found where you're sleeping—"
In English, "you" could mean singular or plural, so Cassandra assumed he meant, "I've been looking for you."
At least you've got some conscience, she thought, not running off to that Grindelwald sneak first.
Hmph. If I find out you went to that sneaky cat before me, you're done for, Potter!
"What's going on here?" Harry asked. "What do I need to do to wake you up? And… you mentioned something about Death earlier. What's that about?"
"As I said, I tried to break the boundary between life and death, so Death isn't exactly thrilled," Cassandra replied lightly, as if she were being chased by a playful puppy rather than the grim reaper. "He wants to drag me to the underworld."
"I think you shouldn't get tangled up in this mess, Potter," she added, her chin lifting haughtily. "If you help me, Death will come after you with everything he's got."
"To hell with Death," Harry snapped. "I don't care. I'm getting you out of here!"
Cassandra's lips curved into a pleased smile.
"I warned you, Potter," she said smugly. "But for now, just play your part. I don't want you slipping up and letting Death pinpoint our location. Got it?"
"Got it," Harry said, sitting back down.
After responding to Gareth, he looked up and asked, "So, what is this? I don't think this is your memory…"
"Of course it's not my memory, you daft troll," Cassandra said, her grey eyes flashing with disdain. "This is your happiest memory."
For some reason, being scoffed at by Cassandra used to rile Harry up endlessly.
But after two years without her sharp tongue, hearing her jab at him again sparked an odd sense of nostalgia… This is it.
"My happiest memory?" he asked.
"Yes," Cassandra replied. "I don't know where the key moment is, but we'll relive each other's happiest memories to find the node that lets us escape this dream. And it seems this is your happiest memory, Potter."
As she spoke, a playful glint flickered in her eyes.
She glanced out the compartment, waiting… because her first-year self was about to appear.
And she didn't have to wait long. After Harry and Gareth finished talking about Slytherin, the compartment door slid open.
Harry turned to see a proud, haughty little girl standing in the doorway.
It was young Cassandra Malfoy.
The older Cassandra stood to the side, a faint smile in her eyes as she watched her eleven-year-old self.
But…
The memory came to an abrupt halt.
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