Okay, I promise this and the epilogue are the only chapters not told by Snape. Also I would like to say I'm sorry for any mistakes I made, but this is the first story I have ever written from a male perspective, the first one where I have to follow set events dictated by the author, and the first one I have written from a character I didn't make up (I shouldn't have tried to do all three at once), and on top of that I'm writing on a deadline (the release of the seventh book) so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. I appreciate reviews, just please no flames. And I like to collect Harry Potter theories for the seventh book.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, as much as I would love to, I never will.
Prologue Part One
He held the little girl in his arms for the last time. Not the last time, he told himself, but if this child were anything like her mother she would be hard to find in twelve years.
"Hurry up!" the guard growled.
He looked over at the only two people besides the guards in the room. Draco was silent, and angry. He was not happy, no; he couldn't look to Draco for sympathy. The other boy, what had been his name? Matthew? He barely knew the boy; there was sympathy there, but a false sympathy.
"Hurry it up!" the guard growled again.
"Don't forget me Cassie," Snape whispered into the four-year-old's ear. He then handed her to Draco, her legal guardian, and let the guards lead him into Azkaban. There was no going back now, only forward.
"He was so stupid, to be caught like that. Three years in hiding and they found him so easily. It was stupid," Draco muttered as they left the jail.
"Don't get mad at him for leaving you, he would stay here if he could," Matthew assured him.
"Mommy," muttered the little girl.
"She's not here," Matthew assured her.
"She's dead!" Draco spat before handing the toddler to Matthew and storming away. In the last three years so many people had left him. His father, Regina, Pansy, and now the man who had been like an uncle to him; no, like a father.
"Daddy?" the girl asked.
Matthew chuckled to himself, "Dearest, you don't have a dad."Prologue part two
I tapped my finger on the table.
"When are you going to be done? I'm board!" I complained.
"You sound like a child!" he said, annoyed by me.
"I am a child," I moaned.
"MATTHEW!" Draco called, finally fed up.
"What?" Matthew asked as he angrily appeared in the study doorway.
"Cassie is board," Draco said with out looking up.
"I'm board," I said, as if to make it more obvious, or more annoying.
"Come along, leave you father-cousin-brother like person alone," Matthew said ushering me out of the study.
"I love you daddy!" I called after Draco.
"Don't call me that," he snapped back.
We waited till we turned the corner and Matthew and I both broke into hysterical laughter.
"It's a wonder he still lets you in his study," Matthew finally said.
"It's a wonder he hasn't killed me yet," I said laughing, "But at least that would be some entertainment in this house."
"You have a horse, a quidditch field, and a loving slash slightly insane big brother, what more could you want?"
"I don't know how to ride a horse and I don't want to learn, you can't play quidditch by yourself, and my big brother is too old to be of any interest to me. He's like thirty, that's old. And Draco still won't buy me that motor bike I want."
"First of all, he's twenty-nine, he's not thirty yet! And your friends are coming tomorrow, so if you could manage to not get into trouble until then that would be great. I have to pack, and I assure you Draco has locked the study, so you'll have to entertain yourself," Matthew said.
"I don't want to play alone!" I complained.
"Well then maybe you'll think twice before calling someone old!" Matthew said storming off.
I wandered the castle looking for something that could cause trouble. Needless to say most of the rooms were locked. The house elves in our manor knew that there was nothing worse then a board fifteen-year-old.
"BOO!" Aries shouted jumping out from behind a pillar. I stand corrected. There is nothing worse then a board seven-year-old.
"What is wrong with you," I said pulling him into one of the hall closets.
"I hate it when you get all the attention," he mumbled, "I'm not even allowed in dad's study, and mom is having one of her fits again. She threw a snow globe at me head! At least you have Matthew I had to get one of the house elves to play with me!"
"I'm sorry, but it's past your bed time anyways, if your not there soon your mother will go into another one of her fits, and she's insane on a regular basis, I'd hate to have her wrath on me," I said holding the door open for him, he wasted no time rushing away.
Aries was my cousin, I think. It's hard to tell with my family, my past is so confusing; most of my blood relatives are gone. My father was killed by his cousin, not to mention he was a fugitive of the law. My mother died in her sleep when I was four but had been legally dead for seventeen years before that. My older brother was adopted by my mother who saw him as more of a friend then a son. My Father's cousin's son is my legal guardian. Aries was the son of my legal guardian. I lived with Aries, his crazy mother who was expecting her second child, my guardian and Aries's father (Draco), and my adopted older brother. There was someone living on the third floor of the mansion as well, at first we had all thought it was a ghost, but it turned out to just be Aries's grandmother who liked to keep to herself. That's why I say that I think Aries is my cousin, it's easier then tracing the family tree.
I don't have many memories of a time before living in the manor, of a time before the war ended, or my mother's life. I couldn't even remember my mother's funeral, and I am told I have never met my father; he died while my mother was still pregnant. While I couldn't remember any of them I was always thirsty to learn more, but in this house I had learned quickly not to ask questions. Draco and Matthew had both been close to my mother, I'm not sure exactly how their paths crossed, but now it pained them to speak of her, and to be honest I couldn't find a living sole who had known my father.
So I clung to the one memory I had of my mother, that one last hope, only two months before she died, it was my first memory. It took place right before Christmas, my mother was making coco, Draco was hanging stockings, and Matthew and I put the star on the tree. The next morning when we awoke our stockings were full of candy and one special gift. Matthew's had a box of cigarettes, a habit he still hadn't kicked. Draco's was full of muggle money that he later spent on himself and me, mostly himself. My stocking had a beautiful golden locket that made Matthew's eyes light up when he saw it. When I realized my mother's stocking had been filled with coal I offered to trade with her, but she had sworn she wanted nothing to do with the locket. Nothing significant happened in this memory, but it gave me a feeling that once upon a time, even if I couldn't remember it, I had had a normal family.
While I was reminiscing about my past, a tradition honored on the eve of my birthday, I found that I had gotten lost in thought and ended up behind the pillars at the front door. Where was Matthew now, before I went to bed he was supposed to tell me the story of the night when I was born as he had done on all of my other birthdays.
Just as I was about to turn around and look for Matthew in his quarters there was a loud knock on the door. I wasn't allowed to answer it, Draco said he was worried I would be kidnapped, so I let the house elf that came running down stairs get it. When the door was opened it revealed a dark night sky filled with a downpour of rain and a hooded figure dripping on the front step. For once I would like to see bad news arrive when the sun was shining.
"My I speak with your master?" The figure asked, holding his breath so his voice came out in even, emotionless tones.
"Which one?" Poor Mitsy the house elf asked.
"Master Malfoy," the hooded figure said, emotionless again.
"Which one? If I may beg your pardon sir, Mitsy has four Master Malfoys."
The figure paused for a moment but then continued in his flat tone, "Draco Malfoy, the eldest, I presume."
"Yes sir, but not the eldest, and again, begging your pardon, but Mitsy cannot invite you in until permission is given from the Masters, so if you will please stay here."
"That's all right, I'll just stand here on the door step, dripping with rain, melting away. And take your time, I wouldn't want to trouble Master Malfoy with my presence!" the figure yelled at Mitsy as she hurried away up the stairs. I almost ran to get some towels for the person, but like Mitsy I was frightened of Draco's rage, and even more so of this strange figure. Who comes calling at night other then common thieves and murderers?
It didn't take long for Draco to arrive at the door, but he seemed to flourish with anger upon seeing the hooded figure.
"What are you doing here!?" he demanded.
"I need a place to stay," the figure stated flatly.
"Well, you can't stay here."
"Why not? I have a right to after all I've done for you. I would have been here sooner if it wasn't for you in the first place. Twelve years in Azkaban wasted on doing a good deed for you. I know that tomorrow is her sixteenth birthday, I want to meet her, and twelve years is a long time to wait!"
"I can't let you come in. It is not only my own stupid grudge that will not allow it, but the safety of my wife and child as well as Cassie. I can't allow a murderer in this house!"
"Just one night Draco. Don't make the mistake I did, don't let grudges consume you, don't be this way, don't be like me. I have to see her, you have to understand," the man said his voice now pleading.
"I can't allow it! She isn't her mother Severus! I can't allow you in here while you are thinking she is in any way! Don't you see how insane that is! As for being you, I'm afraid I don't need that advice, I will never be you!" Draco snarled as he slammed the door in the man's face and angrily pounded up stairs.
"Mitsy didn't know," the house elf squeaked from the corner.
"Don't worry Mitsy, he isn't angry at you," I said stepping forward and peeking through the knothole on the door. The stranger had vanished, no trace of footsteps or anything. Definitely a wizard. The only trace of him ever standing there was a small white box tied with red ribbon, getting drenched. Slowly I opened the door, waiting for something to jump out at me, waiting for the man to reappear, but when nothing happened I gently reached out and picked the package up.
There was a small card that I lifted off and read.
TO: Cassiopeia Severin Black
On your sixteenth birthday you hold the right to know about your mother's past, and by bloodline your own. Don't take this story for more then it is, it is not your mother's past, it is my own, however it contains my fondest memories of her, in addition to several that are not so fond.
FROM: The Half-Blood Prince, your unofficial godfather
This card meant the package was for me, this card meant that man knew my mother. It was too late to go searching for him now, but I tentatively took the gift up to my room and unwrapped it.
It was the most beautiful golden notebook I had ever seen. The pages were wrinkled and much faded. On the cover was a very curvy and girly handwriting: the memoir of the Hal-Blood Prince, dedicated to his Pureblood Princess, and her beautiful daughter.
It didn't bug me that Draco had called this man a murderer; it didn't bug me that he had seemed so cross and unstable. It didn't even bug me that he had somehow known my first, middle, and amazingly enough, last name. Even Draco called me by my mother's last name. All that mattered was that he knew my mother, and hopefully my father as well.
So I picked up the journal and began to read its pages.
Sorry, the first chapter is kind of confusing, but it makes more sense as Snape's story goes on. Oh, and if you have read my "Dairies of RAB" because this is like the other half of that story. It's not really a prequel or a sequel, it's just the other half, because both of them make sense on their own, they are just part of the same story. But I did try to make them very different. Because different people remember different things about their past.