L
---
Chapter 50 – The Girl Who Watched
Kassandra Vorre had never thought of herself as a good person.
If anything, she was honest enough to admit she wasn't.
Maybe the worst person in the world was her.
Ever since she was little, she'd found it entertaining to make people fight because of her — a few teasing words, a carefully timed glance, and chaos followed. Watching others lose control while she stayed calm and untouched made her feel powerful.
By the time she came to Hogwarts, that little reputation had already spread.
People whispered about her, but no one ever dared to say anything too loudly.
After all, she was a Vorre — an ancient, respected pure-blood family. Add beauty and brains to that, and she was untouchable.
But as the years went by, the world just… stopped being interesting.
No one could surprise her anymore.
Everyone was predictable.
So she learned to sleep through her boredom. Literally.
On the train to Hogwarts, she'd dozed off in a corner seat, half-listening to the hum of conversation. Until a boy's voice, a little too high and uncertain, cut through her dreams.
"Should I… go down first?"
She frowned, annoyed. Whoever he was, he'd just woken her up.
She almost snapped at him — but then decided to stay still, eyes closed, and listen.
And what she heard was unexpectedly amusing.
Talk about Malfoy's revenge.
About some boy who didn't even know how to use a proper spell.
Ridiculous things that made her want to laugh.
She forgave the voice for interrupting her nap.
Then she heard something else — the same boy shouting, "Sister, get down!"
And suddenly, the noise of panic, a sharp crack, someone falling.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a red-haired boy sprawled across a girl's lap, blood everywhere.
Her instincts kicked in. She slipped out of the compartment before anyone noticed her and watched from a safe distance, her mind racing.
A gun? she thought. A Muggle gun? How idiotic… and yet—he jumped in front of it.
He wasn't cursed. He wasn't hexed. He'd done it by choice.
For a moment, Kassandra just stood there, confused.
No one did things like that. Not for someone else. Not really.
That stupid boy actually made her curious.
When she saw him later, healed and walking out of the hospital wing beside that same girl, Betsy, Kassandra couldn't help but smile.
She traced her lips with her fingers and murmured, "Interesting."
For the first time in a long while, she felt like her year at Hogwarts might not be so dull after all.
---
It wasn't hard to find him again.
Even in a crowd, he stood out — not because of his looks, but because of how… wrong he seemed for Slytherin. Too open. Too kind.
A soft-hearted fool in a nest of snakes.
When she realized he was Harry Potter's brother — or at least, thought he was — she almost laughed. Of course. It had to be something ridiculous like that.
During the boat ride across the Black Lake, she'd even pushed him toward a separate boat on purpose, just to see how he'd react.
She wanted him to panic. Maybe snap.
Instead, he grinned at her, all excitement and wide eyes, nearly falling into the lake as he craned his neck to look at the castle.
Kassandra had to cast a stabilizing charm just to stop him from flipping the boat.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath.
But she couldn't stop watching him.
There was something… compelling about how utterly stupid he was.
He was kind to everyone — even Muggle-borns. He praised people without hesitation, never with an ounce of irony.
She sneered to herself.
Who lived like that in Slytherin?
At one point, she'd even whispered something mocking under her breath, expecting him to bristle.
But instead, he'd just looked back at her with this… quiet, patient look.
Almost gentle.
Then he'd turned away again.
That calmness infuriated her more than any insult could have.
Does he think I'm beneath him? That I'm not even worth arguing with?
Her hands clenched at her sides.
When someone mentioned that first-years had a high chance of ending up in Gryffindor, she'd automatically tensed — old habit, drilled into her from childhood — but she'd still watched Darren expectantly, hoping to see a crack in that polite mask of his.
Instead, he'd gone pale when he thought the Sorting Hat might make him fight a troll.
She'd nearly burst out laughing.
And then, during the Sorting, that red-haired boy — Ron Weasley, she remembered — had called Darren and Betsy "evil."
For once, Darren actually looked angry. But not for himself — for her. For Betsy.
Kassandra had grabbed his arm before he could march over.
"If you go there," she'd whispered coldly, "I'll tell Professor McGonagall to expel you. And him. Both of you."
She'd expected a fight. A glare. A snap. Something.
But Darren had just looked at her, calm again, and said nothing.
He'd taken the insult, swallowed it, and stayed quiet.
Kassandra had stood there, stunned.
And then furious.
How dare he not fight back?
Doesn't he have any pride? Any anger? Any edge at all?
The red-haired boy she could understand — that one wore his heart on his sleeve. But Darren Potter?
He was infuriating in his goodness.
Kassandra crossed her arms, fuming silently, but even she couldn't stop the tiny smirk tugging at her lips.
She'd remember this.
The stupid redhead.
And the even stupider boy who didn't know how to hate.
---
--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!