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Harry suddenly recalled the legend of the Deathly Hallows and turned to Cassandra. "I remember, some time ago in Nurmengard, Headmaster Dumbledore told me that in his youth, he was obsessed with chasing the power of the Deathly Hallows, alongside Gellert Grindelwald… It's said that whoever becomes the master of all three Hallows can conquer death and become the master of Death itself…"
At Harry's words, Cassandra let out a derisive snort.
"Just hallucinations from mediocre wizards who've smoked too much billywig," she said. "Think about it, Harry. The legend claims the Deathly Hallows were created by Death himself—do you really believe that possessing those objects would make you the master of their creator?"
"What's more," she continued, "the Deathly Hallows were crafted by the Peverell brothers. That alone makes it impossible to become Death's master simply by owning them."
"Then how do we stop Death?" Harry asked hesitantly. "How do we stop Death from taking you?"
"We can't stop Death," Cassandra replied with a light chuckle. "Not forever, at least. All mortals must die, Potter. If your brain hadn't been clouded by those pink, romantic bubbles with Grindelwald, you'd realize we're just wizards, not gods."
"I remember you once told me that wizards are gods," Harry said, stopping in his tracks to look at Cassandra. "You said that as long as a wizard is powerful enough, they can wield any magic—any."
"But that doesn't include delusional arrogance, Potter," Cassandra shot back, casting him a sidelong glance. "Even after suffering a crushing defeat at Ranrok's hands, you haven't changed a bit—still so proud, so self-assured…"
The two continued walking, and at the end of the path, the silhouette of Malfoy Manor came into view.
"I never thought I'd come back here," Cassandra said with a wistful sigh.
Indeed, she felt no lingering memories in Malfoy Manor worth revisiting.
But as they reached the manor's entrance, something felt off.
"This isn't part of any memory of mine, Potter," Cassandra said, grabbing Harry's arm. "Be careful—"
Before she could finish, they found themselves standing outside Mr. Septimus's room.
"We meet at last, Miss Malfoy."
A playful voice sounded from behind them. Harry and Cassandra turned to see an elderly woman in a sharp suit standing there.
"Who are you?" Cassandra asked warily. "Why are you here?"
"You know exactly who I am, Miss Malfoy," the old woman replied, unruffled. "You've been evading me for quite some time… Let's see, nearly ninety years, I'd say, ever since you drank that potion. You knew this day would come."
"You're Death?!" Harry asked, shocked.
"And you, Potter," Death said, not denying her identity. "What drives those few to pay such a steep price, to travel a hundred years into the future just to find you? Is it truly friendship that motivates them? I'm curious…"
"Enough idle chatter, Miss Malfoy," Death continued, turning to Cassandra. "Potter still has many years left to live, but you, Cassandra Malfoy, should have died long ago. I suggest you come with me now."
"And if I refuse?" Cassandra asked, lifting her chin defiantly.
"I'd be disappointed," Death said with a faint smile. "But I'm confident you'll change your mind soon enough, Miss Malfoy."
With that, Death vanished before their eyes.
"What kind of trick is she playing?" Harry asked, perplexed. "I'm sure she's up to something. Be careful, Cassandra."
"Mhm."
Cassandra nodded slowly, but before she could act, Ignatius Malfoy's voice came from behind them.
"Cassandra?"
He looked at her with delighted surprise, hurrying forward to examine her closely.
"Merlin's beard, I've been searching for you everywhere! Gringotts, Diagon Alley, even Knockturn Alley—I scoured them all and found no trace of you! To think you'd already come home!"
"Home?" Cassandra asked, her tone laced with suspicion and confusion. She racked her brain but couldn't place this scene in any of her memories.
"Yes, Father's been worried sick," Ignatius said with a sigh. "You went mad, running off after that… that Mudblood boy. Merlin knows how much it pained us. But you're back now, and that's what matters. Father's surely waiting for you inside. Come with me."
Cassandra froze.
She realized this wasn't a memory from her past or present.
Or rather, it wasn't a memory at all—it was what might have happened after she drank the potion, had she chosen to return home instead.
Ignatius seemed not to notice Harry, brushing past him as he pushed open the door.
Cassandra followed, stepping inside.
Harry, watching from the side, assumed this was part of Cassandra's memories.
Did Cassandra once run away from home? he wondered.
Upon entering, Harry noticed that Mr. Septimus seemed far older than he remembered.
He was puzzled. What's going on here?
"Cass?"
Mr. Septimus stood abruptly upon seeing Cassandra, his face lighting up with disbelief and joy, as if a long-lost treasure had been found.
"Father," Cassandra said with a soft smile, walking toward him.
"You've finally given up on that Potter boy, Cass," Mr. Septimus said, relief evident as he patted her shoulder. "Good, very good…"
Cassandra said nothing, gazing at her father with a distant expression.
"Let's have dinner, Cass," Mr. Septimus said, turning to Ignatius. "Join us, Ig."
They walked to the manor's spacious, brightly lit dining room.
As if to celebrate Cassandra's return, the kitchen had prepared a lavish feast, far grander than the Christmas banquet Harry had enjoyed at Nurmengard Castle.
Harry stood behind Cassandra, as he often did.
"Sit, Potter," Cassandra said, glancing back at him. "Sit beside me."
Mr. Septimus seemed oblivious to Harry's presence, focusing entirely on Cassandra, asking about her life and what kind of man she fancied, promising to fulfill her every wish.
"Try the beef and potato stew, Cass," Mr. Septimus said. "I remember it was always your favorite, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Cassandra nodded. "Thank you, Father."
Harry sat beside her, unsure whether to speak. Something about Mr. Septimus and Ignatius felt wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt. After all, Cassandra had lost her family—how could he deny her this fleeting moment of familial warmth?
The meal lasted over an hour, and Mr. Septimus reluctantly signaled the house-elves to clear the table.
He rose, leading Cassandra on a slow walk through the manor.
"Remember this place?" Mr. Septimus asked, pointing to a small house. "This house—when you were six, you had a tantrum with me. Merlin, you were only six when you awakened some magical ability and hid yourself in here, invisible. Your brother and I were frantic… It was Camille who found you."
"I remember," Cassandra said, her gaze softening as she looked at the little house.
"And here, your study," Mr. Septimus continued, pointing to another room. "You never let anyone inside. After you left, I ordered it sealed, untouched by anyone…"
"After I left?" Cassandra's brow furrowed, catching the slip in his words.
"Let's keep walking," Mr. Septimus said, moving on.
They wandered through nearly every corner of Malfoy Manor, and neither Harry nor Cassandra had ever seen this side of Mr. Septimus.
Cassandra had never seen her father so open, so vulnerable.
They reached the Malfoy family's secret vault. With a wave of his hand, Mr. Septimus opened its heavy doors.
"That treasure left by Merlin—you took it, didn't you? Stole my token while I was away," he said. "I was furious then, thinking you'd abandoned your father and brother for some boy. But I was also worried someone might target that treasure, so I struck your name from the family. Truth be told, I've regretted it ever since."
"Father?"
Cassandra looked up, suddenly realizing the man before her was truly her father.
Mr. Septimus said nothing, only giving her a sly smile.
Before he could speak further, Death's voice cut through the air.
"Septimus Malfoy."
Harry looked up to find Death standing in the Malfoy family vault, her expression calm, betraying no anger.
"Remember our agreement, Mr. Malfoy," she said evenly.
To their surprise, Mr. Septimus smiled warmly at her.
He turned back to Cassandra, gently wiping the tears from her face.
"To walk forward, you must see it through to the end, Cass," he said. "Never doubt the choices you've made. That's the last lesson I can teach you."
With that, he patted her arm and turned to Death. "Thank you for letting me speak with my daughter one last time. It's time for me to go."
As he passed Harry, he rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Malfoy…" Harry began, looking up.
But Mr. Septimus said nothing, his expression serene as he walked past Harry to stand beside Death.
"I respect my daughter's choices, Lady Death," Mr. Septimus said. "A hundred years ago, and even now."
At his words, Death's face darkened slightly.
She snapped her fingers, and the entire Malfoy Manor, along with Mr. Septimus, vanished from sight.
They were back at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"What a remarkable display of fatherly love," Death said leisurely. "It seems your father doesn't hold it against you, does he, Miss Malfoy?"
Cassandra's lips trembled for a moment. She wiped the tears from her face, her expression hardening as she lifted her chin to face Death.
Harry reached out, taking her hand.
At that moment, the horizon began to glow with the pale light of dawn.
Deep within the Forbidden Forest's path, a radiant light flared, illuminating the woods as if it were day.
"Let's go," Cassandra said to Harry. "Follow this path, and keep moving forward…"
"Not so fast, Malfoy," Death interrupted. "You'll never escape my pursuit—nor you, Potter. You know Grindelwald and Sweeting are no different…"
"Run!" Harry shouted, grabbing Cassandra's wrist and pulling her along as they sprinted down the forest path.
They raced to the end of the trail, where a door stood, sealed with ancient magic, much like those Harry had seen before.
It was wide enough for both to pass through together.
"Let's go in," Harry said, still holding Cassandra's hand tightly.
Cassandra didn't respond. She shook her wrist, but couldn't break free from Harry's grip.
He pulled her through the door.
In Merlin's Chamber, Harry jolted awake, gasping for air as if he'd been suffocating for centuries.
He struggled to his feet, looking at Cassandra lying on the stone platform before him.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Cassandra?" Harry called anxiously.
Slowly, Cassandra opened her eyes, her expression complex as she looked at Harry.
"I take it back, Potter," she said. "I shouldn't have expected anything from someone barely smarter than a troll."
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