Harry instinctively retorted, "Did you wear it?"
Cassandra was stunned.
Then she looked at him with a gaze filled with utter disdain.
"You're just as annoying as ever, Potter," she said, "but if you really want it, I'll satisfy your twisted desire—after all, you did come to save me, didn't you?"
Harry felt a bit embarrassed; in truth, he regretted his words the moment he had said them.
Asking for shoes worn by a girl... it sounded somewhat inappropriate and awkward.
Why would I, as a man, want a pair of second-hand shoes worn by a girl?
To cover up his embarrassment, he took two steps forward, intending to push open the door of the Broken Cauldron Bar and walk out.
However, to his surprise, the door wouldn't budge, no matter how many times he tried.
"It seems we're trapped here, Cassandra," Harry said to Cassandra, "This door won't open—can you see if there's another way out?"
Cassandra looked even more disdainful.
"You're such a silly Little Giant, Potter."
As she said this, she pulled out her Magic Wand and pointed it at a wall in the Broken Cauldron Bar.
"Don't tell me Vice Principal Weasley never taught you this... count three bricks up, then two across."
The brick she tapped began to tremble and move, revealing a small hole that got bigger and bigger, until soon a wide archway appeared in front of them, leading to a winding, endless, cobblestone-paved street.
"Is this the way to Diagon Alley?" Harry asked curiously, reaching out to tap the opening.
"I don't know," Cassandra said calmly, "But at least it seems we can get out, right?"
Harry nodded and stepped towards the opening.
"The next memory should be mine, twisted Little Giant." Cassandra said as she held out a hand to stop Harry, "So technically, I should go out first, don't you think?"
Harry, helpless, had to let Cassandra go first.
He followed behind Cassandra, walking on the cobblestone ground, and soon found himself in front of Malfoy Manor.
The Malfoy Manor from a hundred years ago was unlike today—while it looked identical from the outside, it was clear that the entrance to the Malfoy family was far livelier back then.
After all, Mr. Septimus Malfoy, the Dark Minister, had more influence than even the Minister of Magic.
However, even Mr. Septimus Malfoy had his share of troubles.
A carriage arrived from afar, stopping at the gate of Malfoy Manor.
Mr. Septimus Malfoy stepped off the carriage, followed shortly by Little Harry, keeping close behind him.
They didn't exchange any words, and even though Mr. Septimus looked displeased, he was quite gentle towards Little Harry.
Of course, Harry remembered Mr. Septimus as a gentle person.
"Let's follow them," Cassandra said to Harry.
The two of them followed, with Cassandra bridging the gap between Harry and Mr. Septimus Malfoy.
Once inside the Malfoy household, Little Harry was led to the second floor by a maid, while Cassandra stood behind her father.
"Come with me, Kathy," he said sternly.
Inside the room, Mr. Septimus lifted his head, looking at Cassandra with a serious gaze.
"I need an explanation from you, Kathy," Septimus said coldly, "You should know, we are a Pure-blood Family, and that Potter is a child of Muggle origin—"
"What's wrong with being of Muggle origin?" Cassandra smirked, "I'm just looking for a servant to practice Magic Spells with, Dad—you don't have to be like this."
Septimus was amused and looked at his daughter as if to say, "Do you really think I don't know what you mean?"
"Only a child of Muggle origin can be used as a practice target for Magic Spells, right, Dad?" Cassandra said again, as if trying to convince her father, or perhaps herself.
Septimus snorted coldly, "If you wished, just say the word and countless Pure-blood family wizards would willingly volunteer as your target."
"But I don't need that, Dad," Cassandra replied indifferently, "That's not what I want. I trust my own choices—I won't be wrong, Dad."
"Sigh..."
Mr. Septimus Malfoy let out a long sigh.
"If you're sure, then," Septimus rubbed his forehead, "If you regret it afterwards, don't come crying to me."
Cassandra looked at Mr. Septimus in bewilderment.
"I'm just finding a target to practice Magic Spells with, why would I regret it and come crying to you?"
But as she finished her sentence, Cassandra froze.
Back then, she had no idea why she would regret finding a target to practice Magic Spells on and cry to her father...
But now she knew how much pain she had felt when Harry disappeared.
So much so that she was willing to give up everything to cross time and find Harry.
She understand that wizards live long lives, and barring accidents, living to around a hundred and fifty is a breeze.
From 1892 to 1991 is merely a stretch of 99 years, not even a lifetime for a wizard.
But like Vivi, she didn't want Harry to see her age.