By the time they arrived at Malfoy Manor, night had already fallen.

The Malfoys, being an old pure-blood family, were impeccable in their etiquette, having prepared a lavish banquet for their guests.

However, Lucius and Narcissa primarily engaged with Sirius Black during the meal.

Harry caught the gist of their conversation, which revolved around the fact that, after one of the Black family’s core male heirs was imprisoned and the other died, the Malfoy family and several other pure-blood families had "taken over" portions of the Black family’s assets.

Of course, this wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Lucius’s point now was that, since Sirius, the Black family heir, had returned, it was only right for the Malfoys to return the portions they had been "safekeeping" to him.

Lucius also noted, with a hint of resignation, that some pure-blood families were reluctant to relinquish the Black family assets they held, which he found deeply regrettable.

Sirius didn’t comment directly on this, merely nodding in acknowledgment.

After dinner, Harry and Cassandra left the adults to their discussion, giving the drawing room to the three grown-ups.

The two of them headed straight to what used to be Harry’s room—a small space where, a century ago, Harry would stay during summer visits to Malfoy Manor.

Cassandra’s room, it must be said, had been meticulously preserved. Harry’s room, on the other hand... was quite the opposite.

"After you left," Cassandra said, her tone tinged with nostalgia, "Father ordered your room turned into quarters for the house-elves. From then on, he became a thorough pure-blood supremacist. He despised himself for letting me get close to you, which led to me..."

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I know," Harry said, looking up at Cassandra. "Your father thinks you fell hopelessly in love with a Muggle boy and were willing to abandon your family for him."

"Nonsense!" Cassandra snapped, her voice sharp. "Potter! How dare you shamelessly slander a lady’s honor?"

"I’m just saying what your father thinks. Why are you getting so worked up?" Harry feigned confusion, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless..."

"Shut up! Shut it!" Cassandra stomped heavily on Harry’s foot, though she restrained her strength just enough to make it sting without causing real harm.

With those thick-soled leather shoes she was wearing, an unrestrained stomp could have easily left Harry with a minor injury.

"So," Harry said, subtly rubbing his foot against his other leg to ease the numbness, "what’s the real reason you called me to Malfoy Manor?"

"Can’t I just want you to come home with me?" Cassandra tilted her chin up, her expression as haughty as ever. "Don’t forget your place, Potter—you’re my lackey. Wherever I go, you follow. Got it?"

"And," she added, "after letting you run wild during your fifth-year summer and causing such serious consequences, I think... no more leniency for you. Don’t you agree?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don’t even know what to say."

What was this?

Some kind of imprisonment play?

"This is still your room," Cassandra said, lifting her head proudly. "I’ve spoken to Father, and he’s agreed to let you stay with the Malfoy family again. But he asked me to remind you of your agreement with him—"

"What agreement?" Harry asked, playing dumb.

Cassandra’s face darkened.

"Oh, I remember," Harry said with an infuriating grin. "I’m supposed to take responsibility, right? Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you..."

"Who needs you to take care of me?" Cassandra huffed. "Don’t flatter yourself, Potter."

Harry stretched lazily and turned to her. "So, what’s your plan? Are you coming with me to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, or are you staying at Malfoy Manor for a few more days?"

Cassandra didn’t answer, just stared at him intently.

"If you want, I can stay here with you for a few days until you’re ready to leave," Harry said quickly, almost without hesitation.

His emotionally intelligent response clearly pleased Cassandra.

"I’m glad you think that way, Potter," she said, a smile breaking across her face. "It shows you haven’t forgotten your place. So... you’ll wait for my decision. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you take me to Grimmauld Place as a guest."

She emphasized the word "guest" heavily, her tone dripping with obvious insincerity.

Harry didn’t call her out on it, just gave her a knowing smile.

"So," he said, glancing around the room, "I’m supposed to live in this? I don’t think this is fit for human habitation. Haven’t you ever thought about cleaning it up?"

"I gave Dobby instructions before I left," Cassandra said with a huff. "It seems that house-elf has forgotten his duties, hasn’t he?"

At that moment, Dobby appeared at the door.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" he wailed, banging his head against the doorframe. "Dobby forgot Miss Cassandra’s orders! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Seeing that Cassandra had no intention of stopping him, Harry quickly intervened. "Enough, don’t punish yourself anymore. You can still clean the room now. I’m not upset with you."

Dobby blinked his large eyes, looking hopeful. "Is that true? Harry Potter won’t hold Dobby’s mistake against him and will let him make up for it?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

He and Cassandra stepped out, leaving the room to Dobby.

They stood there, gazing at each other, neither willing to look away first.

Nor were they willing to break the silence.

Just as the standoff stretched on, Dobby suddenly opened the door.

"Dobby has finished!" he announced cheerfully.

"Go take a look," Cassandra said, nodding toward the door.

Harry glanced at her, said nothing, and walked into the room.

As soon as he stepped inside, Cassandra’s expression shifted. She glanced down at Dobby.

"Thank you, Dobby," she said softly. "If you hadn’t shown up and taken the blame, I wouldn’t have known what to do..."

"It is Dobby’s honor to serve Miss Cassandra," Dobby said with a grin. "Dobby wants to see the noble Miss Malfoy and the great Harry Potter together. Dobby hopes to see Harry Potter become the Malfoy family’s son-in-law..."

"Shh!" Cassandra stomped her foot. "You can’t say things like that!"

"Oh, Dobby understands!" Dobby gave a knowing smile. "Rest assured, Miss Cassandra, Dobby will do his best to help you."

With that, Dobby vanished down the corridor.

Cassandra was exasperated but helpless.

"What are you doing out there?" Harry called, poking his head out suspiciously. "Are you bullying Dobby again? He didn’t mean it, Cass."

"Why would I?" Cassandra pouted indignantly. "Why would I bully Dobby?"

"Then come see what he’s done. His work’s not bad."

Harry ducked back inside.

Dobby’s efficiency was impressive, and he had even recreated Harry’s room from a century ago down to the smallest detail.

When Harry stepped inside, he felt a moment of disorientation. For a split second, he could have sworn he was back in the Malfoy Manor of a hundred years ago.

"Like it?" Cassandra asked, smiling as she surveyed the room. "I had Dobby use an old photo for reference. Here—look at this."

She pulled a photograph from her pocket. In it, a young Harry sat behind a desk in the room, grinning at the camera.

A teenage Cassandra, about thirteen years old, sat nearby, eyeing Harry with disdain while holding a newspaper.

"This one..." Harry’s gaze seemed to pierce through the photo, traveling across time.

"Ignatius took this, didn’t he?" he said. "I remember this photo... Ignatius wanted us to sit closer together, but you... well, you weren’t exactly thrilled about me."

"I wasn’t disdainful," Cassandra said quietly.

"Hm?" Harry didn’t catch it.

"I said, I wasn’t disdainful, Potter," Cassandra repeated, turning her face away. "I just thought you looked silly when you smiled, and I was worried your stupidity might rub off on me. That’s all."

"Oh, sure, I’ll buy that," Harry said, not pressing the issue. By now, he had a pretty good grasp of how Cassandra operated.

Thanks to his godfather’s guidance, he was handling this with ease.

Why hadn’t Sirius been around a century ago to teach him how to deal with girls?

Well... if Sirius had been there a hundred years ago, maybe Harry wouldn’t have known Veratia Grindelwald or been close with Poppy Sweating. He might have just been a Malfoy son-in-law.

But such is life—you never know.

A person’s fate depends on their own efforts, but it’s also shaped by the course of history.

Hmm...

He suddenly remembered his advanced practice with Occlumency.

Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to test it?

But he couldn’t just bring it up directly—that might seem like he was setting a trap.

So, he decided to approach it indirectly.

Before he could speak, though, Cassandra beat him to it.

"What have you been up to, sneaking around lately?" she asked. "I know you’ve been spending time with Mr. Flamel, dragging Poppy along... What strange things are you working on?"

"Just discussing the potential advanced applications of Occlumency with Mr. Flamel," Harry said with a shrug.

"I believe I’ve told you before," Cassandra said, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "there’s no need to waste time on that. You’d be better off practicing spells."

"But I succeeded," Harry said bluntly.

"Even so, it takes years of effort..."

Cassandra stopped mid-sentence as she realized what Harry had just said.

"What did you say?" she asked, stunned. "You succeeded?"

"Yeah," Harry said, spreading his hands. "Mr. Flamel pointed me in the right direction, and after a few tries, I got it."

He wasn’t lying—he had failed three times before succeeding on the fourth.

Cassandra had to reassess Harry. She knew he was exceptionally talented, but she hadn’t expected him to be this talented in this area.

Aside from natural-born Occlumency masters, almost no one could master its advanced applications in such a short time.

She drew her wand.

"Let me test your results," Cassandra said.

"Alright, but let’s be clear," Harry said, seizing the opportunity. "My Occlumency is a bit... unique. No matter what happens, you won’t get mad, right?"

"I won’t get mad," Cassandra said with a cold huff.

She recalled a memory she’d glimpsed before—Harry and that shameless Veratia Grindelwald kissing on a bed.

Utterly disgraceful!

The image was infuriating!

"You promise?" Harry asked, uncertain.

"I swear on my name," Cassandra said firmly. "No matter what happens, I won’t get angry!"

Perfect.

That’s what he was waiting for.

"Alright."

Before Harry could finish, Cassandra’s Legilimens spell activated.

In an instant, Harry’s mind, enhanced by ancient magic, kicked his Occlumency into overdrive.

Cassandra felt the world spin around her, and then she was gently set down on solid ground.

In the distance, the sun shone brightly, its light reflecting off snow-covered mountains that surrounded her, the glare almost blinding.

Wasn’t it summer?

Cassandra was puzzled, then realized she was inside Harry’s memory.

So much for his Occlumency—hadn’t she just broken through his mental defenses?

Hmph.

But before she could search for Harry, a cold wind swept over her.

!!!

She was shocked to find the wind felt as biting and real as it would in the actual world.

How could this be? Wasn’t this just a memory?

Then the ground trembled beneath her feet.

Moments later, a castle rose from the earth.

Hogwarts Castle—she’d recognize it anywhere.

The castle’s gates rumbled open, and a figure she knew all too well stepped out.

"Welcome to my world, Cass."

It was Harry, arms spread wide, his expression smug.

"What is going on?!" Cassandra demanded, stunned. "Why can I feel the freezing wind in your memory? Why... why can you talk to me?"

But Harry didn’t answer her questions.

A sudden wave of bliss flooded Cassandra’s mind, followed by a voice urging her to submit to Harry

--

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