Cavorting with Death

Enjoy...

Chapter 12

CwD

September 1st, 1996

Harry settled onto the bench with a sigh, stretching his arms overhead until his shoulders gave a satisfying pop. The Great Hall buzzed as students filled the long tables. Chancing a look to the front, he smiled at Hagrid when the giant waved exuberantly at him and nodded his head towards Dumbledore who raised his goblet in his direction.

Harry purposefully ignored Snape's dark glare and instead, looked over to end of the table and saw Slughorn having a rather animated conversation with Professor Sprout who seemed to be getting ticked off the longer she spoke to the rotund man.

"Suppose you know what they're arguing about?" Neville asked with a frown.

"Whatever it is, it's enough to get Professor Sprout that riled up. I'm not sure if I've ever seen her look so close to hexing someone." Hermione replied, watching them with interest. "Is he the new Professor?"

Neville nodded, bemused. "Professor Slughorn. While you and Ron had your Prefects meeting, me and Harry and some others had tea with him on the way here."

Hermione hummed. "Is he pleasant then?"

"Sure. A bit on the odd side, I'd say but seems pleasant enough." Neville smirked at the black-haired teen opposite him. "Seems to absolutely adore Harry though."

"And Sprout." Ron grinned, "Jealous, Nev?"

Neville snorted. "I'd be more worried about who's walking in." He said, flicking his eyes meaningfully toward the entrance.

Ron's confusion was short-lived as his gaze followed Neville's and suddenly, his face turned a shade of red that rivalled his hair. His ears were practically glowing as he stared in disbelief.

"Oh, come off it, Ronald," Hermione said with an exasperated eyeroll, though she looked a bit sympathetic. "They're only holding hands. It's hardly the end of the world."

Ron, however, was already pushing his chair back. "Holding hands?" he sputtered, his voice rising, "She's practically letting him paw all over her! He's – he's – look at him!"

"For heaven's sake, sit down!" Hermione hissed, reaching for his sleeve as nearby students began turning to watch. "You're going to embarrass her, and yourself."

"Embarrass her?! Me, embarrass her?!" He repeated incredulously, "She's bloody embarrassing me!"

Harry exchanged an amused glance with Neville, who was failing to hide his grin. Hermione, meanwhile, had her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Ron.

"You're overreacting," Hermione retorted, "Ginny's old enough to make her own decisions – "

" – Oh, don't you start! Ginny was a good girl before you put that – that – boyfriend rubbish in her head!"

"Ronald!" Hermione looked scandalised, her cheeks pinkening. "I – I did not such thing!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry, like usual, tuned out their familiar byplay and let his gaze wander again, more specifically, to the opposite side of the room.

The teen watched how she sat down gracefully, elegantly. Eyes around her flickered to her as if they were magnetised and he couldn't blame them. Daphne had a sort of aura around her that others couldn't help admiring.

She was a forbidden fruit; an expensive painting one could look from afar but not touch.

Then, as if sensing his stare, Daphne glanced up. Their eyes met, emerald green clashing with electric blue. In that brief instant, it felt as though the noise and movement of the hall faded away. But the memory of their tense conversation on the train surged up, and any strange emotion he'd felt about her vanished, replaced by an icy reminder of who they were now.

He broke eye contact with her as soon as he saw Cassius sitting down next to her.

Harry mentally scolded himself. He really needed to forget about Daphne Greengrass altogether. In all seriousness, there was only one thing he needed from the blonde and that was his father's cloak.

Even now he questioned why he had even given her one of his most prized possessions. He'd lost his trust in Daphne and yet he trusted her with his cloak? Anyone could see that it made no sense.

"You okay?" Hermione's voice snapped him from his thoughts. She was looking up at him, her brow knit with concern.

"Fine." He smiled brightly, too brightly apparently, as her frown deepened.

She looked as if she was going to ask again, that was until someone beat her too it.

" – Mr Potter!"

Harry grinned cheekily. "Poppy."

The matron scowled at him for his cheek.

"The nerve…" Madam Pomfrey huffed, shaking her head before waving her wand. She cast a quick privacy charm around them, shielding them from the curious looks of students nearby – no one more curious than Ron and Hermione, whose eyes were wide with intrigue.

Madam Pomfrey folded her arms and fixed Harry with a no-nonsense look. "Andromeda has informed me of your daily potion's regimen. You're to come to me each morning before class so I can administer them properly."

"They're just potions, Poppy…" Harry groaned. "I'm not a toddler. I think I can take them myself."

"Absolutely not," she replied, stern as ever. "These potions are highly potent, and it was good of Andromeda to monitor your vitals each day. That's the only reason she was able to notice your body adjusting faster than the Goblins had predicted. Last thing we need is for you to keep taking doses you no longer need."

Harry frowned. "Does it have to be the mornings?"

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes, knowing his sleeping habits like the back of her hand. "As long as you show up before noon, I won't complain. But no later, mind you." Her expression softened as she looked him over. "And your injuries? No lingering pain or discomfort?"

Before Harry could protest, she was prodding gently at his arm, then his abdomen, checking for any signs of pain or weakness. He tried his best not to fidget.

"I'm fine. See," He said flexing his arm a couple times, "Good as new."

Harry watched her purse her lips, not quite believing him but nevertheless nodded. "Well, if anything changes, you're to come to me right away. And Harry," her voice softened a little, "I still think you ought to have let the headmaster examine that scar on your abdomen. Who knows what You-Know-Who had done when he healed you."

"There's nothing he would have found that you hadn't caught already."

"Well, I can't force you." She sighed before a wry smile danced on her face, "Do try to stay out of my hospital wing this year, would you?"

The teen grinned, watching her leave.

"What was that about?" Ron asked with a frown after Madam Pomfrey left.

Hermione looked as if someone had stolen her thunder but nevertheless, turned her body around, giving Harry her undivided attention and a stern look that screamed, 'you better tell me everything.'

Harry shrugged, keeping his tone light. "Nothing serious. Just wanted to remind me about my potions."

"Potions?" Hermione echoed, immediately suspicious. "What kind of potions?"

Harry sighed, already anticipating where her mind was going. "Relax, Hermione – they're not Dreamless Sleep potions, if that's what you're worried about."

"They've gone then have they?" Ron asked quietly, his face softening. He cast a quick look around, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Your nightmares of him."

"Mmhmm." A flash of an image of Bellatrix shot through his mind before it vanished.

Only to be replaced by someone else… Harry left unsaid.

Hermione's eyes narrowed with concern. "Then… what are the potions for?" She pressed.

Harry exhaled, his patience fraying. "Just drop it will you, Hermione? They're just nutritional potions. Look at me now and compare me to how I was before the summer. Clearly I was lacking in some area or the other, hence the potions."

He didn't mean to sound so curt, but her relentless questioning was beginning to grate his nerves. Thankfully, before Hermione could probe any further, the heavy doors of the Great Hall creaked open, and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a nervous group of wide-eyed eleven-year-olds. All conversation fell quiet as the new students shuffled in, looking around with both awe and trepidation.

"No way we were ever that small." Said Seamus from down the table and Harry couldn't help but agree, watching amusedly at how a few first-years walked smack into the backs of others as they halted in front of the Sorting Hat, staring at it as if it might come to life and bite them.

Harry felt himself zoning out as the sorting ceremony began, only half-listening to the whispered names and scattered applause. Soon enough, the final student was sorted with a triumphant "Gryffindor!" The little boy, in his excitement, started walking off without removing the Sorting Hat, much to the amusement of the hall causing Professor McGonagall to quickly swoop in to retrieve it, giving the child one of her rare smiles before leading him to the table.

It wasn't long after when Dumbledore stood up; his presence quelling all conversation as the old man beamed down at the students like a proud grandfather.

"Now that our new First Years have been sorted, let the feast begin!"

Instantly, the tables were laden with food and Ron's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Chicken!" He exclaimed, moaning in delight when bit into a drumstick already picking up another one in his other hand.

"Must you, Ronald?" Hermione groaned, wrinkling her nose as he tore into the meat with almost primal enthusiasm.

Harry, though he agreed with Hermione's comments, couldn't deny the fact that he shared Ron's sentiments. He too was absolutely famished because of a certain blonde-haired girl but as he thought back to the afternoon events at Slughorn's tea party, he found he wasn't even bothered by the fact that he had to give his meal away to Daphne.

The smile he received as compensation from her wasn't bad at all.

Ugh… His mind really was all over the place today.

As the night went on and everyone had finished eating, soon, Dumbledore stood up again and walked to the small podium in front of the staff table, his ocean blue eyes twinkling madly at the sea of children in front of him.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! A few things to note. As always the Forbidden Forest is indeed forbidden. I strongly advise that you heed its name, for it holds dangers far beyond the imagination of even the most curious of minds. Moving on, I have been informed by our diligent caretaker, Mr Filch, that the list of banned items has been updated. It is particularly heavy this year with various novelties from our very own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." He said, chuckling at Mr Filch's sour expression. "You can find the updated list outside his office should you be curious about what might lead you to your inevitable detention."

Dumbledore's lips tugged up as a ripple of laughter swept through the students as many exchanged amused glances with one another. As the laughter subsided, the old man's expression grew sombre.

"Now onto things slightly graver; as you saw before you entered the gates, you were searched upon your entry. I can assure you, your entitlement to your privacy is most valued in this school however, due to recent events, the safety of everyone in this room takes precedent. To enforce that further, the Ministry of Magic has sent its Auros to be stationed within the walls and the castle's entrances." Dumbledore's voice, though calm, carried a gravity that made the students sit a little straighter. "We live in difficult times, but I assure you, Hogwarts remains a safe haven, protected by magic as old as this very castle and for as long as we remain true and pure of heart, nothing that attempts to breach this castle's very walls will lay a finger on you."

His gaze lingered on the students; eyes softening with concern and understanding. "I ask of each of you to look out for one another, to show kindness in the face of fear, and to be brave when the world outside may feel uncertain. For in the darkest of times, unity remains our strongest shield."

A brief pause followed, allowing his words to settle over the hall like a calming wave. "Lastly," he said, his eyes regaining their twinkle, "A few staff changes. I'd like to reintroduce Professor Horace Slughorn" – Slughorn stood up, his massive waistcoated belly casting a giant shadow on the table below – "an old colleague of mine, who will be taking over his old position as Potions Master."

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall, students wondering whether they had heard correctly.

"Potions?" repeated Ron and Hermione together in disbelief.

" – Meanwhile, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts post will be taken up by Professor Snape."

"Snape?!" Ron hissed incredulously, watching with loathing at how the Slytherin table clapped enthusiastically at the sallow man who only raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement though it was obvious to everyone that he looked like he'd just won the lottery.

"You knew?" Hermione whispered to Harry who looked bored whilst pandemonium went on in the Hall.

Harry nodded, his chin on his hand. "Earlier, at the tea party."

" – Remember, this is a time for learning, of friendship and the discovery of what each of you are capable of." Dumbledore continued, his voice cutting through the lingering voices, "You are the heart of this school, and behalf of the rest of the staff and I, it is a privilege to have you all here for another year of magic and growth. Now then… off to bed! Pip pip."

Buzzing with a renewed sense of purpose and hope, the students all began to rise out of their seats to make their way of the Hall.

" – And where do you think you're going, Ronald?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms as Ron made a direct line toward the exit.

"To bed?" he replied, letting out an enormous yawn for emphasis.

"Absolutely not! We've got to help the first years, remember?" she insisted, hands on her hips. "Now, come along and stop acting like it's a punishment!"

Neville shook his head as Hermione dragged a groaning Ron off by the arm. "Honestly, you'd think he'd remember he's a prefect by now," he said, grinning as Ron shot them a pleading look over his shoulder.

Harry shrugged and tore his gaze from Hermione, who had her arm looped firmly around Ron's as they disappeared into the crowd.

Walking off, the pair garnered the student body's attention as most stopped to stare and point at Harry, their whispers reaching his ears whilst others looked at the green-eyed teen in awe.

"He's a Lord now…Black… Potter…"

"He's so dreamy… think he's got a girlfriend – ?"

" – As if Potter would jump in your knickers, Mia…"

"Who's the guy next to him? He's kinda cute. Like a shy kitten sort of way…"

Despite the strides Neville had made in confidence over the past year, his eyes still darted nervously under the weight of the attention that came from standing beside Harry. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning closer to black-haired teen. "Not sure if I envy your life or am really, really glad it's not mine."

Harry's lips quirked into a slight smirk. "Want to find out?"

Neville grimaced, quickening his steps as they headed toward the moving staircases. "No thanks."

"You get used to it,"

"Have you?"

Harry smirked, the expression not reaching his eyes. "No."

They walked in silence for a moment, letting the whispers fade as they approached the staircases. Just as the next set of steps aligned, Neville broke the quiet. "Gran told me she wrote to you after the Gala."

"Mmhm." Harry nodded, his gaze drifting to the portraits along the wall. He grinned briefly at a little girl in a painting who blushed and ducked behind her mother's skirt. "She wants to reinstate the alliance between the Potters and the Longbottoms," he said, glancing back at Neville. "I told her my condition was that she'd have to include the Blacks as well."

Neville's eyes lowered, his face tightening. "You know she'll never agree to that, Harry."

"I need this alliance, Neville. Both of our Houses do. The Longbottoms are a Most Ancient family, which means they have a lot of sway over the lesser houses. Voldemort's sycophants are adding more and more pressure to pass legislation that is counterproductive to our way of life. I just can't continue to fend them off by myself especially when some of the Neutrals are beginning to throw their lot with them as well." Harry sighed, stepping onto the staircase once it came to them.

Neville stepped on beside him, his gaze fixed on the edge of the staircase as they ascended. "You know my family's history, Harry," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the creaking steps. "You know what they did to my parents. You've seen what they've done."

A flicker of pain passed through Harry's expression, Bellatrix's manic laughter echoing unwanted in his memory. He forced it down, clenching his jaw. "I know, Neville. All the more reason for Augusta to see how important this is. She needs to see the bigger picture here."

They rode the staircase in silence until it glided to a stop on the seventh floor. Finally, Neville turned, his expression resolute. "I'll talk to her," he said, his voice steady. "I can't promise she'll agree, but eventually… she'll have to come around. Whether she likes it or not."

Harry smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he ascended. "That's all I ask. You'll be a great Lord, Neville. You'll do your parents proud, trust me."

CwD

"Welcome to the noble House of Slytherin," Snape began in his familiar, low drawl. His cold, dark eyes swept the room, lingering on each student with disdain before landing on the small group of first years gathered nervously at the front.

"A few principles I expect all of you to follow," he continued, his voice carrying easily over the crackling fire and low murmur of the common room. "For the first week, prefects will escort you to and from your classes. After that, you are expected to find your own way." His gaze sharpened, causing one particularly jittery boy to flinch.

"The Hogwarts Charter details the rules you must all follow however, if at any point, the breaking of a rule is inevitable, do not be caught. I will be most… displeased if you are and the consequences will be dire."

The first years exchanged nervous glances; their unease palpable as they shifted on their feet. Snape's presence was suffocating, and under his piercing gaze, a few of the younger students visibly paled.

" – As Slytherins, there is a particular negative stigma associated with our esteemed house," Snape said, his tone now edged with bitterness, "That reputation makes unity within this house all the more crucial. In any given situation, I expect you to stand with your fellow housemates as they will do for you. Betrayal is never tolerated."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Finally, you may notice that I allow certain… concessions. Do not mistake these for kindness. Irritate me, and you will see how 'kind' I can truly be." Snape's gaze held the room in a stifling silence for another moment before he nodded curtly toward the prefects. "I expect you all at breakfast tomorrow. Do not be late."

With one last glaring look towards the now officially, cowed first years, Snape turned on his heel, his robes billowing dramatically as he swept from the room. The tension in the air lingered even after his departure, a silence punctuated by the crackling of the fire and the hushed murmurs that followed.

Off to the side of the room, Daphne sat primly on a couch near the fire, watching the scene unfold with disinterest. The warmth of the flame brought little comfort to her overall mood but it did ease the tension in her bones a little. She allowed herself a moment of quiet as her eyes drifted to the flickering flames.

Cassius had a reputation, one which was solidified throughout his years in school and because of that, people respected him. It was why that respect extended to her by association – his betrothed. Sitting on the seat closest to the fire for example, was something that only certain individuals were entitled to, mainly Malfoy, due to his name and the older students because, well, nobody wanted to mess with an older student.

Ever since their betrothal became public knowledge in fourth year, she had been left alone, shielded by the influence Cassius held over their housemates and considering how she was treated before then, it was a respite she welcomed with open arms. It didn't stop the dirty looks however, both from girls and boys. The scathing, jealous whispers behind her back from the girls or all the abhorrent things the boys would do to her if they had a measly five minutes with her.

It made her shiver in disgust.

In some sense, she was grateful for Cassius Warrington.

He provided protection, something she, regrettably, wasn't well versed in.

Daphne palmed the water-like material of the Invisibility Cloak in her pocket and instantly, her mind went back to the oppressive aura she felt in the train with him. She had felt the intensity of his magic – volatile and overwhelming, yet to her, it had been soothing, like being enveloped in a smothering embrace.

Her gaze flickered to Cassius across the Slytherin common room. He lounged casually with his usual group of friends, entirely oblivious to her. Alice Ropier had draped herself across his lap, her hand possessively resting on his knee as she laughed at something another boy said. Daphne's lips curled into a sneer at the sight. Pathetic.

Of course, he wouldn't care. Cassius never did. He had no reason to – his future was set. He could fool around with that bitch Ropier and the next whore for all he wanted. In the end, when Daphne graduated, Cassius would simply come to claim what he knew was his: his betrothed, his prize, his trophy.

Once, that was what Daphne had expected, too – a loveless marriage bound by duty and the will of their families. But now… now, her life wasn't so simple. Not when Harry Potter had wormed his way in. His power, his presence – it was intoxicating, irresistible.

Rebellious.

She shot one last glance at Cassius and felt a mixture of contempt and something else – pity, perhaps. He was nothing more than a reminder of the world she had once belonged to, a world she was drifting further and further away from. If he cared at all, he would have noticed. He would have seen the growing chasm between them. But that wasn't the point anymore. Harry was.

Daphne twirled a strand of hair with a sigh as she let the hum of conversation around the common room wash over her. Harry deserved an explanation. There was no way he'd ever trust her again otherwise but would he even listen?

The old Harry Potter perhaps, but this new Harry Potter, the one who had stood before her on the train with power thrumming just beneath his skin, was different. Hardened. Stronger. More dangerous.

Her chest tightened painfully as she remembered his words.

"Was any of this real? This… This thing between us?"

The memory of his voice, the betrayal in his eyes, was like a dagger twisting inside her. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on her chest. She could still see the hurt etched in his face, the doubt, the anger.

It hurt more than she had anticipated. More than she would ever admit.

Daphne swallowed hard and fisted the cloak in her pocket, letting its presence ground her. She couldn't leave things like this. Not with him. She had to find the right moment, the right words to make him understand. If she could just show him, prove to him that despite her father's orders, despite the lies, what she felt – what she wanted – was real. She didn't just want his forgiveness. She wanted his friendship, and beyond that, she wanted more – more than any of those closest to him.

The blonde's heart quickened at the thought.

Closer than anyone. More than his friends. More than Granger, who always seemed to linger just a little too close, always staking her claim over a space that Daphne wanted for herself.

The image of Hermione at Harry's side made Daphne's blood boil. That spot belonged to her. It should belong to her.

She wasn't one to let an opportunity slip through her fingers. Daphne Greengrass never failed. Her father's games may have forced her into a corner, but she wasn't out of moves. She still had pieces to play, and she would play them well.

Harry Potter was worth it after all.

" – Careful Bole, you don't know who you're messing with."

So deep in thought, Daphne hadn't realised that there was entire situation unfolding in the common room.

She turned her head towards the far side of the room and saw Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, standing with a tight expression on his face but something was different this time. The sneer that so often played across his features wasn't there, and neither was the haughty confidence that typically radiated off of him. His posture was rigid, defensive, as he stared down a group of older Slytherins near the door.

"Oh? I think I do, Malfoy." Seventh year Lucian Bole shot back with a sneer, giving Draco a hard shove that sent him stumbling back slightly, "Because that's all you are, ain't it? A Malfoy. You had some nerve claiming the Black name for all these years and lo and behold, imagine the world's surprise when it's that pissant, Potter, who's the new Lord Black instead."

A ripple of cruel laughter spread through the crowd. Daphne's eyes scanned the faces of the older students – Higgs, Derrick, a few others – each of them relishing Draco's humiliation. She could feel the shift in the air. The Slytherins were circling him like wolves, smelling weakness.

Draco's face tightened, his pale complexion turning even paler, but he didn't react. His hand twitched for his wand, but he didn't draw it. His jaw was locked tightly and his silence only seemed to embolden his tormentors.

"Lost your voice, little Dragon?" A burly looking boy called Peregrine Derrick, mocked with a sneer, his towering figure practically eclipsing Draco. Even the usually absentminded Crabbe and Goyle shifted nervously when the Malfoy heir didn't respond. "Pathetic."

More laughter erupted from the older students, and Daphne could feel the shift in power reverberating through the room. For years, Draco had ridden high on his family's influence, not to mention, errantly throwing the prestigious Black name around carelessly as if it were his birthright but now that Harry was Lord Black, the once fear and respect Draco commanded had begun to crumble right beneath his feat.

Suddenly, a figure appeared between the two parties, her familiar short, brown hair and small stature instantly identifying her to Daphne. The blonde's eyes widened when she saw Astoria stand in front of Draco, her wand pointed squarely towards Derrick's chest.

"Piss off!" Astoria snapped, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip. "He's still a Malfoy. That name holds more weight than whatever gutter your blood crawled out of!"

Bole chuckled darkly, his eyes flicking to Astoria with mild amusement before they looked back at Draco. "Well, well. Malfoy here couldn't bring his daddy to fight his battles this time and instead brought his little bitch. At least this slag is better to look at than that whore Parkinson."

A hush fell over the room, the taunt hanging in the air like a loaded curse. Derrick's grin widened, cruel and triumphant, as if he'd just delivered the final blow.

Something inside Daphne snapped.

Her relationship with Astoria had always been tumultuous. They bickered constantly, and there was no shortage of resentment between them, but in that moment, none of it mattered. Her vision clouded with red-hot fury.

The bastard had dared insult her sister.

Before she even realized what she was doing, her wand was out, her lips moving of their own accord.

"Reducto!"

Bole's eyes widened in shock as the spell careened toward him, but he reacted just in time, flicking his wand upward to deflect the curse with a shimmering shield.

Gasps erupted from the students around them, and the common room descended into chaos. Feet shuffled and bodies moved hastily to the edges of the confrontation as the whispers grew louder.

Astoria whirled around, her eyes locking onto Daphne's. For a moment, they stood there, both breathing heavily, staring at each other in stunned silence until suddenly, the peace was broken by Bole's enraged voice.

"How fucking dare you – " He raised his wand at Daphne whose eyes widened in alarm, freezing in place. Daphne may have a sharp tongue but she wasn't a fighter.

Suddenly, Bole was banished away, toppling over a table into a group of startled Third Years. All eyes whipped toward the source of the spell and saw Cassius standing there with his wand outstretched, a thunderous expression on his face.

"No, Lucian, how fucking dare you?!" Cassius hissed, advancing on the Seventh Year who scrambled to his feet, bruised but not beaten, and his friends – Derrick and two other seventh-years – immediately drew their wands, pointing them at Cassius.

Lucian smirked, bolstered by his back up. "Four against one, Cassius… even for a nobody like you, that would be foolish."

" – I've fought worse odds. I thought I remember telling you Bole, that Daphne was off limits… " Cassius growled, stepping in front of Daphne protectively.

Lucian sneered; sparks leaving his wand harshly. "That was before your whore tried cursing me."

The tension was suffocating, the room deathly quiet as students whispered behind cupped hands, their eyes darting between the Seventh Years in a mixture of fear and excitement. This kind of open conflict in Slytherin was rare – usually, power games were played in shadows, whispered threats and subtle manipulation, but now the battle lines were drawn, clear for all to see.

Daphne's grip on her wand tightened, her pulse pounding in her ears. She knew Cassius was skilled; he was a professional dueller after all, but four on one?

Just when it looked as if the situation was going to reach its crescendo, the door to the common room slammed open with a loud bang. Every head whipped around, and there, standing in the entrance, his black cloak billowing as if by some unseen wind, was Severus Snape.

"Enough." Snape's voice cut through the room like a blade. His dark eyes swept over the students and the raised wands; his face twisted in cold disdain.

The room instantly froze, every student suddenly aware of the Professor's presence. Even the more brazen among them felt the weight of his gaze.

Bole stepped back quickly, shoving his wand into his pocket as if he had never even considered using it. "Professor Snape," he began, his voice dripping with forced politeness. "We were just – "

"I said enough," Snape repeated, his voice dropping dangerously low. "Put your wands away. All of you."

The older students exchanged uneasy glances but quickly obeyed, pocketing their wands and stepping back. The common room was silent now, all eyes on Snape.

"That also applies to you, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne clenched her jaw but nevertheless, acquiesced reluctantly.

Snape's dark eyes stared at the blonde teen for a second longer before he looked over at Draco, who's face didn't betray his true emotions but Snape could see the tautness in his shoulders.

"Casting spells in the common room? I expected better from you, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne licked her lips, her heart pounding in her chest. How had he known? She opened her mouth to defend herself, but before she could think of anything, the words came tumbling out.

"They insulted my sister," she replied, her voice steadier than she expected.

Snape's lip curled, his sneer deepening as if her response was somehow beneath him. "Slytherin House does not indulge in petty squabbles. You would all do well to remember that." His gaze swept over the students, lingering a moment on Draco as he turned toward the door but as he walked, he looked over his shoulder. "Warrington and Bole, and the rest of your group – my office. Now."

The group of boys grimaced but said nothing as they dutifully followed Snape out of the common room, leaving behind a thick silence. As soon as the door shut behind them, the tension broke, and the room exhaled. Murmurs swept through the students like a ripple, heads turning, whispers exchanged. All eyes flicked toward Daphne, but no one dared to say anything out loud.

Astoria, her face a mask of irritation, marched up to Daphne, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I didn't need your help," she snapped, her voice low but biting.

The older sister blinked owlishly, raising an eyebrow towards her younger sister who grew frustrated when she didn't respond. With a huff, Astoria stormed off toward Draco, who stood watching the whole thing with an unreadable expression.

Daphne watched her sister go, feeling an ache settle in her chest. She ran a hand through her long, blonde tresses, the familiar motion calming her frayed nerves. The unspoken rift between her and Astoria had only grown wider with time, and Daphne had no idea how to bridge it.

Astoria had never forgiven her for the things left unsaid, for the quiet, obedient daughter Daphne had become when it came to their father.

Astoria saw it as weakness but she didn't know.

She had no idea what it was like growing up and being blamed for the cause of the family's suffering. What it was like growing up and feeling as though you were a stranger in your own home.

Daphne's gaze flicked toward the far corner of the room where her youngest sister, Fiona, stood frozen, watching everything with wide, uncertain eyes. The eldest sister's heart sank as she caught her sister's gaze.

I was told not to involve myself in their lives, Daphne reminded herself, her father's stern voice echoing in her mind.

She noticed Fiona inching toward her, hesitant and cautious. The youngest Greengrass was so small; her pale blonde hair falling in wisps around her face as she watched Daphne with wide, bloodshot eyes.

"Daffy?" Fione's voice was soft, barely audible in the aftermath of the commotion. She took a step closer, as if testing the waters, her eyes darting toward Astoria and Draco before settling back on her eldest sister. "Are you… alright?"

Daphne forced a small, strained smile. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice low, though it lacked any real conviction.

Fiona looked up at her with an expression that was too wise for her eleven years, and Daphne felt her chest tighten. Just before the younger girl could speak, a wracking cough hit her like a train.

"F-Fiona?" Daphne whispered uncertainly, her impeccable mask breaking at the sight of her youngest sister's illness manifesting.

"Water…" Fiona rasped, clutching her throat.

Daphne froze, her mind blank as panic seized her. She frantically looked around the common room, desperate to find something – anything – to help her sister.

" – Here, drink this." Tracey Davis appeared at her side, along with Lily Moon, both wearing worried expressions. They handed Fiona a small flask of water. Daphne hadn't even noticed them approach.

Fiona reached for the flask with trembling hands, taking small, shaky sips, her chest still heaving with the effort of breathing. The silence around them felt heavy, and Daphne hovered beside her, feeling utterly helpless.

"Better?" Daphne couldn't help but gently rub her younger sister's back, hoping the gesture somewhat soothed her. She wanted to take away the pain, to protect her, but all she could do was watch.

"Fiona!" Astoria's voice cut through the air like a knife before the little girl could respond. "Come here!"

Daphne's heart sank as she heard Astoria's sharp command, watching Fiona flinch at the sound of their sister's voice. Her own hand froze on Fiona's back, and for a moment, she felt a pang of powerlessness.

Fiona hesitated, her small frame trembling slightly. She looked up at Daphne, her wide, uncertain eyes betraying a mixture of longing and fear.

It broke Daphne's heart to see her youngest sister like this – so fragile, caught between the weight of her illness and the tension between their family.

"Go on, sweetie," Daphne said gently, forcing a smile despite the tightness in her chest. "Astoria's waiting."

Fiona's gaze lingered on Daphne for a second longer before she nodded and slowly turned toward Astoria. Daphne watched her little sister shuffle away, the sight leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Astoria met Daphne's gaze with a cold glare before turning her attention to Fiona, her demeanour softening just a fraction as she wiped her little sister's nose with the back of her hand. Though Astoria's posture remained stiff, Daphne could see the protectiveness beneath the surface as she took Fiona by the hand and led her toward the entrance of the common room.

"D-Daphne?" Tracey began hesitantly.

" – Thank you." Daphne interrupted quietly, turning to face the two girls. They were startled to see a tired smile on the usually stoic blonde's face. "For the water. You didn't have to."

Tracey swallowed, fiddling around with her thumbs. She knew she shouldn't pry but she couldn't help it.

"Your sister?"

Lily shot Tracey a warning look which the brunette deftly ignored.

Daphne didn't answer for a moment causing Tracey to wonder if she had indeed gone too far but quickly, Daphne's expression softened as she glanced back at the entrance, where Astoria was now guiding Fiona out of sight.

"Mm." The blonde affirmed, smiling back at Fiona when she turned to look at Daphne. "My youngest sibling."

Lily, seeing that Tracey was surprisingly making some ground with the Silent Queen, spoke up carefully. "Is she… is she alright?"

Tracey looked at Lily like she was crazy but quickly schooled her expression when Daphne turned back toward them, her eyes clouded with something unreadable.

For a moment, Daphne couldn't speak. Her vision blurred, and before she realised what was happening, she felt the warmth of tears sliding down her cheeks. She hadn't even noticed when the floodgates had opened.

Her hand lifted shakily to wipe them away, but she was unable to stop the flow. The toll of the day – of everything – had finally caught up to her, and it was too much. The strong, composed mask she wore had cracked under the weight of it all.

Tracey was the first to react. She gently took Daphne by the arm, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay, Daphne," she said softly, her voice tender as she rubbed Daphne's arm in slow, comforting motions.

Lily, though more reserved, shot icy glares at the curious Slytherins who were starting to sneak glances at the scene. She quickly moved to block their view, her own quiet way of protecting Daphne.

Daphne tried in vain to brush the tears away, but she couldn't stop. All the emotions she had been bottling up were spilling over now, and she felt herself unravelling. It was a rare moment of vulnerability; one she hadn't allowed herself to feel in so long let alone in front of anyone.

As Tracey and Lily gently guided her toward the dormitory, Daphne felt something within her break. For once, she didn't fight it. She let herself be led, leaning on them as the tears continued to fall.

"Let's get you some rest, yeah?" Tracey whispered, her tone kind but firm.

Daphne nodded numbly, her usual icy exterior still fractured. As the door creaked open to their dormitory, she stepped inside, feeling the warmth of her friends beside her, but also the aching cold of everything unresolved – her sisters, her family, Harry…

But for now, in this small space with Tracey and Lily, she allowed herself a moment of quiet, a brief respite from the storm swirling in her mind.

Tomorrow would come soon enough.

CwD

September 2nd, 1996

The next morning found Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table, glaring sullenly into his bowl of porridge as if it had personally offended him. Dark circles under his eyes only added to his sour mood.

Hermione plopped down beside him, struggling under the weight of her overstuffed bag. She let out a tired sigh and reached for an apple. "Alright, what's got you in such a foul mood so early?" she asked, taking a bite while shooting him a concerned look.

Harry didn't answer. His gaze shifted sideways, narrowing as he locked eyes with Ron, who was chewing his breakfast sausages with a grimace, his hand cupped protectively over his face.

"Ron," Dean said from a few seats down, helpfully filling in the silence. "Bloke got up in the middle of the night to take a piss, but you'd think he had troll legs the way he was crashing into everything. Knocked over half the room trying to find the loo."

Ron winced, still holding his cheek as if it pained him. "It was dark! I couldn't help it!" he muttered defensively. "Besides, someone left their trunk right in the middle of the floor." He shot an accusatory look at Seamus.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to scream like a banshee, did you?" Neville chimed in with a long-suffering sigh, absently stirring his porridge. "Even Trevor got scared – took me ages to find him under my bed this morning."

Ron scowled. "Something wrapped around my leg when I was heading back to bed! What was I supposed to do?"

"Yeah! Your own bloody clothes!" Seamus cut in with a laugh, causing Parvati, who was leaning against him, to giggle uncontrollably.

Neville shook his head with a weary expression, while Ron's ears turned the same shade as his hair. "You woke us all up, mate. We thought you were being attacked," Neville added quietly before leaning in toward Hermione. "Harry looked ready to kill someone. Pretty sure he didn't get any sleep after that. He was just sitting there in the dark when I woke up this morning."

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was still glaring into his breakfast. "Harry?" she asked gently, trying to coax him out of his mood. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Harry replied shortly, not bothering to look up. His tone made it clear that he didn't want to be pressed further, causing Hermione to sigh softly in exasperation.

"Is he okay?! You should be asking me that!" Ron exclaimed whilst Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well," Neville snickered as he nudged Ron with his elbow. "Hedwig certainly thought you deserved it. Show her, Ron."

Grumbling, Ron pulled his hand away from his face, revealing three deep talon marks that stretched from his forehead down to his chin. The scratches looked raw and angry, a clear sign that Hedwig had not taken kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Ron! How – ?"

" – It's what he gets," Harry finally spoke, though he didn't bother to hide the smirk creeping onto his face. "I didn't tell her to do that, but I'm not sorry about it either."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Harry, that's not funny!"

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "I wasn't the only one whose sleep got interrupted last night. Hedwig's worse than me when she's cranky."

Ron shot him a glare, gingerly touching his scratched face. "Yeah, well, next time I'll make sure to step around your bloody bird. Never thought I'd get attacked for needing to take a piss. Seriously, why can't she just be a normal owl and go sleep with all the other owls?"

"All the other owls are trying to get in her pants." Harry replied nonchalantly causing Dean to snort into his cup and spray pumpkin juice across the table. Several nearby first-years looked scandalized.

Despite her disapproving look, Hermione couldn't help the twitch of a smile tugging at her lips. She nudged Harry's shoulder lightly. "Just try not to let your owl go around maiming people, yeah?"

Harry's own lips twitched in response, but he didn't answer, choosing instead to take a bite of his now-cold porridge.

" – Speaking of snakes, what's going on with them?"

Harry looked up from his porridge, his attention immediately drawn to the Slytherin table. There was a palpable tension there, though the Slytherins, as usual, tried to maintain their cool façade. Subtle glances, whispered conversations, and restless movements belied something brewing beneath the surface.

"Look at Malfoy," Ron muttered, nodding towards the far end of the Slytherin table near the double doors.

Harry's eyes followed, narrowing as he observed Draco sitting unusually isolated. Normally, his cousin would be the centre of attention, surrounded by his cronies, but now, he sat apart, his expression dark and brooding, while the other Slytherins shot furtive glances his way.

"Normally he'd be lording over the stupid sods but look at him now." Ron crowed gleefully, his earlier mood disappearing. "He looks miserable. Something definitely happened."

Ron wasn't wrong – there was something off about the group. Even the usual suspects like Crabbe and Goyle were seated farther from Malfoy than normal, as if deliberately distancing themselves.

"Not just him. Look, Parkinson isn't with him either. She's sat over there with Bulstrode, Davis and Moon." Neville said with a nod towards their direction.

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. "Parkinson does have other friends, Neville. She's not always attached to Malfoy." But her eyes betrayed her curiosity as they scanned the Slytherin group.

"As if! There wasn't a time when she wasn't all over him," Ron said, his lips curling. "It was bloody disgusting."

Hermione, though reluctant, couldn't help but agree. "It is... peculiar," she conceded, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Who's Miss Pretty?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as he gestured toward a slender, brown-haired girl who was engaged in a tense conversation with Draco. She carried herself with unmistakable pureblood grace as she faced the scowling boy next to her.

Harry followed his gaze, landing on the younger Greengrass sister. "Astoria Greengrass," Neville supplied with a casual nod. "Daphne's younger sister. She's in the year below."

"Greengrass, huh?" Dean whistled lowly. "No wonder she's a looker." He immediately raised his hands in surrender when Hermione shot him a sharp glare. "Just saying!"

Hermione huffed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "boys" under her breath. "I didn't know you were so familiar with the Greengrass family, Neville," she remarked, her tone curious.

Neville took a sip of his tea, "Well, not personally but Astoria's the heiress to the Greengrass estate. I've seen her at a few events over the years. Her father's usually the one dragging her around. Besides, they were in the papers not too long ago if I remember correctly. The two are betrothed."

Ron gagged dramatically. "Imagine being forced to hook up with that git… then again, she is a snake so she's probably just as worse – "

" – The younger one is the heiress? Not Daphne?" Harry asked, his brows knitting together. Something about this detail nagged at him, though he couldn't quite place why.

"Strange, right?" Neville set down his cup, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Usually, it's the eldest who inherits, but for some reason, it's Astoria instead of Daphne. Gran reckons there's quite a story there but apparently, no really knows what."

Harry hummed curiously, watching how Draco glowered at Astoria when she said something causing her to glare at him. His gaze lingered on the two for a moment longer before, almost instinctively, his attention shifted. His eyes were drawn, as if by some invisible force, to the middle of the table.

And there she was – Daphne Greengrass, sitting with Cassius Warrington and a few of his friends. Her cool, composed demeanour stood in stark contrast to the turmoil surrounding Draco. She looked almost serene, though Harry noticed a faint stiffness in her posture. Warrington was saying something, laughing along with his group, but Daphne's expression remained neutral, her attention seemingly elsewhere.

"Alright, mate?" Ron probed, noticing Harry's wandering gaze.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts, forcibly breaking eye contact with Daphne's startlingly electric blue eyes." Yeah, just… thinking."

" – Timetables!"

His gaze shifted to Professor McGonagall, who was briskly walking along the Gryffindor table, distributing timetables with her usual no-nonsense attitude.

Ron, after receiving his, glanced down at his timetable with a look of confusion. "Uh, Professor?" he called out, eyes widening in disbelief. "Why does it say Potions on mine?"

McGonagall paused, raising an eyebrow as he addressed him. "Is it no longer your desire to become an Auror, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron's ears reddened slightly. "Well, no… but I needed an Outstanding to get into the NEWT Potions class. I didn't – " He broke off, sounding more sullen as the reality sank in.

"Indeed, under Professor Snape's requirements," McGonagall replied crisply, adjusting her square spectacles. "However, Professor Slughorn has amended that. The requirement has been lowered to an Exceeds Expectations."

Ron's face brightened instantly. "Really? That's brilliant!" He turned excitedly to Harry, clearly expecting him to share in the joy.

"No," Harry said flatly, his expression deadpan.

McGonagall's sharp gaze immediately fell on Harry as she handed Hermione her timetable, who accepted it eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat. "Has your career path changed as well, Mr. Potter?" she asked, her tone mildly reproachful.

Harry scowled. "Yes, by that old man." He said, jutting his chin towards Dumbledore who simply beamed back at him with a knowing smile, as if he could overhear the conversation.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, scandalized.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's tone was equally outraged, her lips pressing into a thin line. The boys around them, including Ron and Dean, were snickering under their breath, but they fell silent when McGonagall's steely gaze swept over them like a winter wind.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she began, emphasising each syllable with careful precision, "Has informed me that as part of your Apprenticeship with him, it is his wish that you study to your full potential. Potions, therefore, is compulsory."

Harry was speechless. "He can't do that!"

" – It'll be good for you, Harry!" Hermione interjected with an enthusiastic smile. "You've always said that if it weren't for Professor Snape, Potions would've been a lovely subject to learn!"

Harry shot her a look that could have curdled milk. "I didn't say lovely, Hermione. I said it would've been pleasant."

McGonagall, her features softening just slightly, added quietly, "Lily was a highly accomplished student in Potions." There was a distant look in her eyes as she spoke, her voice filled with nostalgia. "If she hadn't accepted Professor Flitwick's apprenticeship, she likely would have taken up Professor Slughorn's offer instead."

Harry felt his chest tighten at the mention of his mother. He suddenly remembered the photograph of Lily he'd seen on Slughorn's desk over the summer. Her smile had been bright, full of life. Slughorn's words from that day echoed in his mind.

"Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

The teen groaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I thought I got to choose what subjects I'd continue after OWLs." He had already made plans to cut back on classes, hoping to focus more on his training – on getting stronger for what lay ahead. Dropping Care of Magical Creatures had been a relief, but now it felt like Potions was taking its place, and nothing had changed.

McGonagall went to pat his shoulder but faltered when she thought back to Harry's reaction during the summer and instead offered him one of her rare smiles albeit sympathetically. "You ought to take it up with the Headmaster, Mr. Potter," she said gently. "Though I cannot guarantee you'll succeed in changing his mind."

"Nor I," Harry muttered, resigned. He could feel Dumbledore's twinkling gaze on the back of his neck, and somehow knew that any argument with the meddling old man would be futile.

As McGonagall turned to continue down the table, she stopped suddenly, her sharp eyes catching sight of the talon marks on Ron's face from earlier. "Mr. Weasley, may I remind you that duelling with owls is not recommended?" Her tone was dead serious, though her eyes glinted with just a hint of amusement.

Ron flushed, his hand instinctively covering the scratches Hedwig had left. "It wasn't a duel! Hedwig just – "

" – I suggest you visit Madam Pomfrey after breakfast," McGonagall said briskly, cutting him off before moving on.

Ron groaned, glaring at Harry who was fighting a smirk. "Your bird is a bloody menace."

Eventually, the bell rang, signalling the end of breakfast. The Great Hall filled with the scraping of benches and the rustle of robes as students began to move. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all stood, gathering their belongings as they prepared to head to their first class.

"What do you have first?" Neville asked, craning his neck over the crowd, clearly searching for someone.

"Potions," Ron grumbled, shoving a few oranges into his pockets for later. "You?"

"Free period," Neville said with a wide grin, looking utterly delighted at his luck.

Harry smirked, nudging Neville lightly. "Use that time to score some points with Abbott, yeah?" He quirked an eyebrow at Neville, his teasing tone unmistakable. His earlier bad mood seemed to have lifted somewhat.

Neville's face turned a shade of pink that clashed horribly with his blonde hair. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied quickly, though his expression betrayed him.

Ron snickered while Harry grinned. "Right… Sure, you don't."

Neville mumbled something under his breath before hurriedly waving them off, clearly eager to get away. "See you lot later!" he called, heading toward the front entrance.

The hallways were soon packed with students, all jostling their way toward their classes. The younger years were the most disoriented, some still clutching their timetables and looking thoroughly lost. The trio, however, found themselves wading through the thick crowd, with Hermione quickly growing impatient.

"Ron, Harry! Will you hurry up? We're going to be late!" Hermione snapped, weaving expertly through the crowd.

"Have you seen the crowd, Hermione? We're not getting to the dungeons anytime soon," Ron retorted, glancing pointedly at the mass of students all pressing forward. His height at least gave him the advantage of seeing over most heads.

"You're prefects!" Harry chimed in, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Shouldn't you be helping them along?"

"But Potions – "

"Slughorn won't give you detention, Hermione," Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Relax."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it, a look of reluctant agreement crossing her face.

"It was supposed to be the Fifth Year Prefects that should've been sorting out this mess, not us." Ron grumbled before turning to Harry with a sour look. "You could help y'know!"

" – Yeah, and then we'll be stuck here even longer," Harry shot back dryly, watching as the First and Second Years continued to block their way. Several of them were staring openly at Harry, whispering in hushed tones, clearly starstruck. One small Hufflepuff actually squeaked and dropped his books when Harry's eyes met his.

"Point. Oi, move along, brats!" Ron shouted, waving his arms dramatically. The younger students scrambled out of the way, wide-eyed.

"Ronald!" Hermione chided, but even she looked mildly relieved as the crowd finally began to part. "Honestly…"

Harry, deciding he wasn't going to get through anytime soon, sidestepped toward the wall. Leaning against it, he watched in amusement as Hermione and Ron attempted to herd the remaining students. He couldn't help but thank his lucky stars he wasn't made prefect; it looked like an absolute nightmare.

"Sir?" A voice spoke causing Harry to look around for the source of the voice. "Yes you, the handsome one. Over here."

Harry turned and realized it wasn't a student speaking to him but a painting. The woman in the portrait sat daintily behind a round table, sipping tea. Her gaze was fixed intently on him, her eyes wide with admiration.

Startled, Harry spoke out hesitantly. "Yes?"

The woman placed a hand dramatically over her chest as she stared at him inquisitively. "Not handsome? I say! That girl must like her men with a dash of troll's blood! You are one of the most delectable pieces of man I have ever laid eyes upon!"

Harry stared, completely dumbfounded and more than a little uncomfortable. "Er… thanks. Do you need something from me?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

The woman sighed wistfully, her gaze lingering on him. "If only I had been born in your time..." She shook her head dramatically before continuing, "But alas, I have a message for you. A pretty little thing by the name of Daphne Greengrass – though she clearly has marbles for brains – is waiting for you on the other side of this hallway. An alcove, next to the painting of the Three Flying Witch-less Brooms."

Harry blinked rapidly. "Uh. Thanks. I think."

Making his way through the crowd, Harry surprisingly found that simply saying excuse me, parted the sea of students as if they had all found out he was carrying some dangerous disease.

Eventually, Harry made his way towards the other hallway that was surprisingly empty. Approaching the spot, he saw the painting and sure enough, just as the woman had said, there was an alcove beside it, partially hidden from the main corridor. And standing there, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable, was Daphne Greengrass.

Instantly, Harry's expression cooled. "Greengrass."

He saw her eyebrow flicker at his greeting, her poised mask faltering. "Harry." She replied quietly.

Walking into the space, Harry realised it was tucked away, concealed from wandering eyes. He couldn't help but wonder how she had found this spot in the first place.

"Let's keep this short this time, Greengrass. Just give me my cloak and we can pretend this," Harry indicated between them, "never existed." He said, holding out his hand.

For a moment, Daphne didn't move. She stared at his outstretched hand, her hair falling slightly over her face, masking her expression. The silence stretched on, grating against Harry's nerves, until finally, she spoke.

"No."

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the small space seeming to drop. "What?"

Daphne shivered at his tone. Looking up, she saw Harry's emerald eyes glowing, glaring at her.

"N-No!" She stammered, her voice rising in alarm at how her hesitation must have appeared to him. "Of course, I'll give it back! Here!" Daphne pulled out the cloak; it's cool texture somewhat calming her errant nerves as she gently handed it over.

Harry felt an immediate wave of relief as he took the cloak, the weight of his father's legacy once again in his hands. The anger that had flared inside him began to cool, simmering down into something quieter. "Thank you," he muttered, his voice softer now, but still tense.

As he turned to leave, eager to put this awkward encounter behind him, he felt a sudden, cool touch on his hand.

"Wait."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it stopped him cold. The sensation of her fingers, smooth and delicate, on his skin made him pause. Harry turned back, and his breath caught as he met her eyes – those beautiful, electric blue eyes. He was once again captivated by Daphne's immense beauty.

She truly was a one of one.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter of thoughts at the back of his mind. Despite everything that had happened between them, there was a part of him that still wanted to listen to what she had to say.

"Yes?" He asked shortly.

Daphne hesitated, biting her lip nervously, the action nearly causing Harry's resolve to waver. He hated how just a small gesture from her could stir something inside him.

She seemed to be battling with herself, her face troubled, as if the words she needed to say were too difficult to form until eventually, she spoke, her voice steady. "Train me."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Train you?"

"Yes."

"Do I look like a charity to you?" He shook his head incredulously as he began to leave.

"Please!" Daphne pleaded, grabbing again onto Harry's hand.

The young Lord gritted his teeth, roughly pulling his hand out of hers. "Ask your boyfriend. From what I've heard, he's rather accomplished in that particular area."

"He's not my – " Daphne urgently shook her head. "It has to be you!"

"Do I look like I have the time to be teaching little princesses like you?" Harry hissed.

Daphne swallowed uncomfortably.

After taking a sharp breath, Harry took a moment to rein in his temper. "Look, we're merely acquaintances, Greengrass. Your actions ensured that, remember? We're on opposite sides of the war. You may not actively fight against me but I'd do no courtesy in teaching someone who's not in support of me either. I'd rather not be betrayed a second time."

Harry saw Daphne's face pale instantly at his words, as her hands shook. Clenching his jaw, he turned sharply, his cloak billowing behind him. He was done but Daphne's voice, sharp and tinged with desperation, cut through the air.

"Harry wait!"

Harry stopped, his shoulders stiff and tense, though he didn't turn around. His fists were clenched at his sides. "I don't have time for this, Greengrass."

"Harry, please," Daphne said, taking a step forward, her voice shaky but determined. "Just listen."

The teen sighed; the sound heavy with frustration. The weight of the world pressed down on him, and he had no room for more burdens but he stayed where he was, silent, waiting. She took it as an unspoken invitation to continue.

"You're right," Daphne began quietly, her voice steadying despite the storm swirling inside her. "I don't deserve a second chance. I hurt you. I… I manipulated you, and I won't make excuses for that."

Her admission hung in the air, raw and full of regret. Daphne could feel her heart pounding against her chest, but she didn't let herself falter. Not this time.

"W-We don't need to be friends," she whispered, her voice barely audible before she forced herself to speak more firmly. "This isn't about that. Think of it as a partnership, an alliance."

At that, Harry finally turned around, his expression unreadable but his green eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

"An alliance?" he asked, a cold edge to his voice. "And what exactly do you think you can offer me in return, Greengrass?"

Daphne swallowed, knowing she had to tread carefully. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Here we go.

"Information," she said, her voice low but certain.

Harry raised an eyebrow, sceptical. "Information?"

Daphne nodded, her hands balling into fists to stop them from trembling. "I watching you noticing it in the Hall – Slytherin's power structure has changed. Whatever power and influence Draco had, has been completely wiped clean."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to her, intrigued despite himself. "By whom?"

"I don't know." She shook her head when he frowned at her. "Some Seventh Years pressured him yesterday. Though they're older students, this time last year, they wouldn't have dreamed of doing that to Draco. Their families may be influential but amongst the Upper families, they're both politically and socially outclassed by the Malfoys. It's just that, something happened that gave them the confidence to go against Draco…"

Harry's eyes gleamed in the light. "Or someone…"

Daphne nodded with a sigh. "That's not all. Draco… there was something odd about him."

Dark amusement coloured Harry's smile as he smirked down at the blonde. "He's heard some rather difficult news over the summer. It's likely that."

"Perhaps…" Daphne said, though she wasn't convinced. "I'm positive Draco's hiding something."

Harry scoffed. "Knowing him, it's probably harmless."

" – And if it's not? You didn't see him how I saw him in our common room. He looked like a cornered animal who had nothing to lose and if it wasn't for Snape coming in when he did, I'm not sure what would have happened."

Harry considered her words, staring at her with an intensity that made the silence between them feel thick, almost suffocating. Daphne felt her pulse quicken under his gaze, her earlier confidence beginning to waver.

"And why should I care?" Harry asked, his voice cold but not dismissive. "Why should I trust anything you say again?"

Daphne swallowed hard, knowing this was the moment she had to make him see her side. To try and win back some of his trust. "Because I'm telling you the truth. I don't know what's happening with Draco, but it's dangerous. I'm willing to find out for you, but all I want in return, is for you to train me."

"Why?"

Her face hardened immediately, her mind flashing to her baby sisters and at her own powerlessness against Bole. "To protect the people that are dear to me." Daphne hesitated, the words to stand by your side lingering on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them, unwilling to lay herself bare to him like that. Not yet.

Harry stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, his emerald eyes searching her face for any sign of deceit. He was quiet, so quiet that Daphne could hear her own breathing, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt exposed under his scrutiny, as if he could see straight through her, past the mask she so carefully wore.

"And what if I say no?" Harry asked, his voice low and cold.

Daphne's breath caught in her throat.

"You won't," she said softly, but there was no plea in her tone, only quiet determination. "Because you know I can help you – "

" – I don't need you," he cut her off, his tone harsh and dismissive. But even as the words left his mouth, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, as though he wasn't entirely sure if that was true.

Despite the weight of his rejection, Daphne didn't believe him. She gently walked up to him again; looking up intensely into his brilliant eyes as she gently grasped the front of his robes. "You need allies, Harry. Despite everything that's happened between us, I still want to be that person to you."

Her lips quivered, and she took a shaky breath. "H-Hate me, despise me, keep me at arm's length and if that's what you want, then that's all we'd ever need to be. But just… let me help you, Harry. Please. Give me the chance to change."

Harry looked away, the tension in his shoulders unyielding. He didn't respond immediately, the weight of her words hanging between them. His jaw clenched and unclenched as though he was holding back something. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a sharp exhale, his gaze hardening once more.

"I'll think about it," he said, his tone clipped. There was no warmth in his words, but no immediate rejection either.

Daphne nodded slowly, accepting his answer for now. She knew it was the best she could hope for in the moment. "Alright," she said numbly, taking a step back and instantly missing his presence. "I'll wait for your answer."

With that, she turned on her heel, her blonde hair whipping slightly behind her as she walked away from him. Her steps echoed in the alcove, and though she kept her posture steady, her heart was racing, her mind spinning with what had just transpired. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just set something into motion – something that couldn't be undone.

Harry watched her leave, his emotions a swirl of confusion, anger, and something else he couldn't quite place. He wisely didn't move until he could no longer hear her footsteps, the tension in his chest tightening as he thought about the impromptu meeting with her.

The effects of the lack of sleep courtesy of Ron and now this meeting with Daphne, caused his already flaying mood to plummet even more. Eventually, he shook his head, letting out a long and frustrated sigh. Pushing away from the wall, the teen trudged his way through the emptying corridors, ignoring the fact that he was already late for class.

Arriving at the Potions classroom, he knocked on the door and waited until he heard Slughorn beckon him in.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn's eyes crinkled with warmth as Harry stepped inside. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way. Come in, come in."

"Apologies, Professor," Harry said with a plastic smile. "Adding Potions to my timetable was a last-minute decision."

" – And am I glad it was! Professor McGonagall had informed me during breakfast that you wanted to switch and I was more than happy to agree. I imagine you don't have your textbook just like," Slughorn furrowed his eyebrows as he turned towards Ron, "Weatherby, was it?"

"Weasley, Sir." Ron corrected with a red face while the others around him snickered.

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help snort. "That's right, Professor. No textbook yet."

" – Well, not to worry Just pick one out from the cupboard in the back."

Walking over to the cupboard, Harry found the only spare to be an old, tattered looking thing labelled Advanced Potion-Making, though it barely seemed to be holding itself together. Shrugging, he picked up the book and made his way back to Slughorn.

The teen allowed his eyes to rover around, attempting to find a seat seeing as Ron and Hermione had found the misfortune of somehow sharing a table with Draco and Crabbe, the latter who looked like he had no idea what was going on which didn't surprise Harry one bit.

Snape probably pulled some strings…

Hermione gave him a apologetic smile when she saw Harry looking to see if there was any space for him to sit with them but realised there wasn't. Turning away from them and all the other four-manned tables, he focused on the last one that had a space free.

Electric, blue eyes locked with emerald, green.

Harry let out a silent groan as he saw Daphne's lips quirk up. She was sat on the other side of the room opposite Tracey Davis and Lily Moon.

" – Seeing as that seat by Miss Greengrass, seems to be the only one available, why don't you make your way over there Harry, and then we can begin today's lesson. Scales out, everyone, potion kits as well! I've got a real treat for you today!"

All eyes were on Harry as he made his way to Daphne who was sharing the table with Tracey Davis and Lily Moon. Unable to help himself brush his shoulder against Daphne's as he sat, Harry shuffled onto the stool, thankfully avoiding any additional contact with his blonde partner. Looking up, he saw the two other Slytherin girls staring at him.

"Potter." Tracey greeted stiffly, warily even.

"Davis."

"Lord Potter." Lily nodded in a mock-formal greeting.

The corner of Harry's lips tugged up slightly. "Moon."

Harry turned his head expectantly down to Daphne's face whilst she stared up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Hi." The blonde beauty whispered, her voice was soft and quiet, as if it was only meant to be heard by his ears only.

Harry swallowed. "Hi."

" – Excellent, excellent! Now then, a warm welcome to you, young potion makers!" Slughorn began, his eyes sweeping over the class with a mixture of pride and gravity. "You've all proven yourselves capable in the art, but NEWT – level Potions is where talent must meet discipline. Here, we do not simply mix and measure; we explore, experiment, and – if we're fortunate – unlock the true potential of magic's most elusive mysteries." He paused dramatically, letting his words settle.

"Now, onto the centrepiece of your coursework," Slughorn announced. "This year, you'll each be selecting and brewing a potion of your own choosing, one that requires a full five months to brew to perfection. It's an ambitious task that will demand constant care and a thorough understanding of the brewing process and step involved."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room; excitement tinged with apprehension. Hermione's hand shot up, her face both eager and uneasy. Slughorn paused, giving her an encouraging nod.

"S-Sir," Hermione began, her voice slightly shaky, "Potions that take months to brew need constant, careful monitoring and extreme precision. Even advanced brewers would find it… well, nearly impossible to handle alone!"

Her voice had risen, and she flushed, realizing she'd spoken more passionately than she'd intended. But to her relief, nods of agreement surrounded her, the class sharing her concern about the challenging task ahead.

Slughorn's eyes twinkled. ""May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring the girl's embarrassment.

"Hermione, Sir. Hermione Granger."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth – Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"N-No. At least, I don't think so, Sir."

"Shame… Well, take five points for your good insight." Said Slughorn warmly before turning to the rest of the class. "It's just like Miss Granger pointed out. Such a task will prove to be immensely difficult on your own, therefore the board has requested that your coursework be done in pairs – "

Harry stiffened in his seat, his eyes widening. I don't like where this was going…

Daphne was still watching him with an unreadable expression but as he looked back at her, he realised there was something behind those beautiful eyes of hers, something that dared him to look deeper.

" – Just to make our lives all easier, the pairs will be the ones sitting next to you. I do hope you all get along. The mark you receive for this affects your overall grade so ensure you give it your all – "

Harry wanted to bang his head on the table when he saw the blonde's eyes light up triumphantly.

Why out of everyone he could've ended up with, it had to be Daphne Greengrass?

CwD