Abnormal ?James Potter?

Chapter 2: Shadows at Hogwarts

From across the hall, a fleeting glance from Sirius caught Cassiopeia's gaze—a silent challenge and a reminder of her immense hate. Her expression hardened, resolved to exploit whatever opportunities arose from this new dynamic.

Cassiopeia then tuned into The Great Hall, it buzzed with a symphony of voices, a harmonious blend of house pride and youthful excitement, tinged with the undercurrent of rivalry that simmered just below the surface. Flickering candlelight above cast a warm glow over the assembled students, reflecting in a myriad of glasses raised in toast to the new year.

Cassiopeia sat among her Slytherin peers, her presence a still point amidst the churning energy. Her eyes, dark pools of intent, scanned the room, seeing not just students but potential threads in an intricate tapestry only she could envision. Each glance, each smile exchanged across tables, became a note in an elaborate score of alliances and enmities.

Barty Crouch Jr. smirked, his voice a low, smooth drawl barely rising above the ambient noise—a whisper coated with a conspiratorial edge. "This inter-house event, Cassie... a rare stage for creativity, wouldn't you say?"

His words hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in possibility. Cassiopeia turned to him, meeting his gaze, a spark of understanding passing between them. She needn't respond verbally; the slight tilt of her head, the curve of her lips, spoke of approval and the tacit agreement that Barty's mind was one to keep close.

Evan Rosier, ever eager to align himself with the undercurrents of power, forever coveting Cassie's favour, interjected with a hushed excitement. "We can use this... twist it, until their unity chokes them."

A thoughtful hum from Bellatrix was not taken into account, a mistake she'd find out later on, a never ending continuing to the ensemble of schemes. Her eyes gleamed with an intensity that promised both destruction and elevation. "We let them build their bridges, only to watch them burn."

Narcissa, whose veneer showed nothing of the turmoil beneath, watched her companions with a keen gaze—her sister's authority both a balm and a thorn. "And we will guard our own. Ever to ensure the flame do not turn back on us."

Cassiopeia's gaze drifted across the hall, lingering on the Gryffindor table where James Potter sat, animated in conversation, his laughter ringing out like a challenge. He was as she remembered, bright and oblivious—someone too kind, in a different game he had not the eyes to see.

She turned back to Barty, her voice a thread in the web they wove. "We sow the seeds," she murmured, each word a promise to herself moving forward. "A spark here, a shadow there—let their trust fracture beneath our guiding hands.

With the Great Hall bustling around them, the Slytherins at Cassiopeia's table were enfolded in a quiet enclave of strategic whispers, each word a carefully placed piece on their chessboard of intrigues. Bellatrix's gaze flitted from face to face, assessing the mood with a fiery intensity. "And what of the others?" She inclined her head toward the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. "They're often overlooked, yet ripe for... influence."

Cassiopeia nodded thoughtfully, her expression an intricately woven mask of self-assurance and plotting. "An underestimated opponent has their uses. The Ravens hold knowledge, and the Badgers boast a loyalty that could be dismantled with the right promises."

Barty Crouch Jr., never one to miss an opportunity for mischief and maneuvering, leaned further in. "Tensions are already present. A few well-placed suggestions here and there... incite some discomfort, and we could redirect suspicions brilliantly."

Narcissa cast a sidelong glance, part skepticism, part intrigue, aware of the ever-complex relationship between them—a volatile cocktail of sisterly duty and rivalry. Not to mention the deep endured jealousy that cried out of her entire being, the blonde never being good enough in their parents eyes. "We can not have these moves cast shadows back on us. We must keep our hands clean if what you intend is to work."

Cassiopeia smirked, confident in her carefully honed tactics. "Our greatest strength is in our invisibility. Let them play their games openly. We shall be the echo guiding them unknowingly."

Evan added, a hint of admiration lacing his voice for Cassiopeia's audacity. "A perfect shroud—our methods will seem as natural as the air they breathe."

All around them, the Great Hall resonated with the usual post-feast cacophony—a symphony of voices interspersed with the clinking of cups and rustle of robes as students began to disperse toward their houses, their minds buzzing with plans for the freshly announced inter-house event.

Bellatrix, however, held Cassiopeia's gaze for a moment longer, a silent affirmation of the games yet to come. "Then let us set the stage. See who rises to the challenge—and who falls."

As the room emptied, Cassiopeia rose with deliberate grace, the faintest of regal poise suffusing every movement. Here, among allies and within these storied walls, she was in her element—a puppet master preparing her stage, threading her visions into the fabric of tomorrow's reality.

The stars above blinked down like knowing eyes, and deep within, the whisper of destiny wound itself tighter around the silent ambitions of the Black heiress and her co-conspirators, the scene was set. Cassiopeia had arrived, and with her, a web of ambitions poised to ensnare, move, and reshape the destinies of those who, unsuspecting, shared this hallowed ground.