I know, I know, such a shocker that I'm updating after a week. I really wish I can update this on a regular basis but there are periods when I don't even have time to sit down and think up a chapter. But for now, I'll try to make it weekly! :)
To some readers who have PM-ed or left reviews regarding the whole story being so old-fashioned, I'm afraid that that's how the story is going to be. While I commend T. H. Enesley for the constructive feedback, there are others who have not been as polite about it. Frankly I'm a bit tired of repeating it over and over again so I'll explain my reasoning (aside from liking the whole shebang) behind the Tudor/Regency/Victorian period setting.
Change cannot come overnight. I live in Singapore and while its size is probably comparable to HPverse's wizarding population, it took a few generations to get where we are today. In my opinion (and this alternate universe) Harry is incapable of modernizing the WW overnight without severe backlash and fearing a coup from the people, particularly the purebloods who have proven that they are fanatical and dangerous enemies to have both on the battleground and political field (e.g. Tom Riddle/LV, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange). It is not impossible for modernization to come but it is a limitation that Harry, and his people, have accepted during this period of Daphne's life.
There are many stories, some of which are really good, that have gone with the story plot of rapid expansion/revolutionizing and that's fine because it's their stories to mould. If you want a story like that, I'm sure you can find one that suits your preference.
The days moved with alarming speed. March soon ended and April was upon them. With a little more than three months to go, Daphne's worst fear had come true. While her pregnancy had not been obvious in the first half of her pregnancy, she had rapidly ballooned over the last couple of weeks.
Lady Narcissa, of all people, had clucked semi-sympathetically before kindly telling her that the same thing had happened to her when she was pregnant with Draco before promptly recommending a multitude of potions and diets that Daphne should start on if she wanted a safe pregnancy and her old figure back quickly.
Teddy's birthday was a welcome break for everyone. There weren't many wizarding children born in the last few years and given that Teddy had been a social outcast; his birth father was a werewolf; his mother had been a disgraced Black descendant for the first half of his life, he had little chance to interact with other children.
The re-instatement of Andromeda Black-Tonks, and subsequently her daughter, and the fact that Nym would be the first Potter consort to give birth meant that Teddy's third birthday was full of children and their social-climbing parents.
Given how he spent majority of his time with his mother or maternal grandmother, Daphne assumed he would have been rather bewildered by the horde of shrieking children but the boy had been quick to join in the festivities hosted in his honour.
As her wont, Daphne clutched a water goblet as she observed the group of women tittering around Nym. Although she already had a son, many ladies, and occasionally, men had sent gifts or made an effort with Nym if only to get the pregnant Metamorphmagus to consider their marriage proposals of their daughters for her unborn son.
Typically Nym had laughed and waved away all proposals with a statement that it was possibly a girl she was incubating. Much to her surprise, the proposals did not subside but had in fact doubled with both sons and daughters offered for her baby's hand in matrimony.
Daphne herself was no stranger to it. While it was not as pressing or of much urgency as it was for Nym's baby, she had a steady stream of letters and invitations for her own perusal. Many an afternoon, she and Nym would spend a fair bit of time sifting through contracts over tea and cakes while happily chatting and exchanging stories and occasionally pompous letters from an overconfident wizard or witch.
It would be clear to anyone by then that Nym harboured no dream or hope for her son to sit on Harry's throne. Given Teddy's, and his mother's, preference for adventure, it was rather hard to imagine any child of Nym's sitting through political talks without squirming or being a royal nuisance.
Nevertheless it was a weight that Nym would never carry and she looked more carefree and happier for it. Sometimes Daphne would hate herself or Nym for being so cheerful while she constantly worried about her own position but she were to be honest with herself, Daphne craved this competition. It gave her a sense of purpose, of direction that no heiress title could afford and for now it soothed her that she had a mission.
Her gaze wandered over the large grassy expanse. Andromeda had insisted on using her home as the party venue. She was certain Harry would have objected but clearly he had not. Neither Harry nor Sirius was present, at least officially – Daphne was certain they were cleverly disguised in the faceless crowd but Sirius Black had a knack for Transfiguration and deception. Daphne was not one to give up easily but she knew her energies were better spent on making nice with court members or dropping a good word or two for her allies instead of searching for the Lord Black or Harry.
Gulping down her drink, she approached the Wyndhams. When Daphne was eight, her father and Alasdair's father, Hugh Wyndham, had been in discussions for Daphne to marry Hugh Wyndham's only son.
Her maternal grandmother was the sister of Hugh's father and the idea that her granddaughter would rejoin her family line was extremely pleasing to the elderly witch. Daphne had spent a couple of summers at the Wyndham family manor while they pushed for a marriage agreement but eventually Alasdair had been contracted to a pureblood witch closer to his age, leaving Daphne's grandmother disappointed and her own father angry at the wasted time and effort but Daphne had been relieved to have delayed such a fate.
It was a rather distant family connection to chase but Alasdair Wyndham did not seem to mind as he ushered her to meet his family.
"Tis' good to have family anywhere you go," he cheerfully informed her before pointing out his brood to her.
"My boys, Archibald and Gregory," he waved carelessly at two redheaded boys before brightening and gesturing to his left, "My wife, Daisy and my little girl, Moira."
Daphne belatedly realized where this was going. Keeping a polite smile on her face, she allowed proper introductions to be made. Alasdair dominated the conversation; praising both her beauty and wit every now and then, tossing in a couple of boastful comments about his older boy and adding a few flowery statements of his daughter in between discussing recent court events and announcements.
Thankfully Alasdair was the sort of man who could prattle on without much input from others and Daphne wisely used her time to observe his family.
His wife was rather unremarkable. Pretty features but she mostly kept her eyes downwards and except for the occasional pursing of her lips, Daphne might have dismissed her as a meek ornament.
His sons were not of age to be in Hogwarts but other than that deduction, Daphne could not gauge their exact ages. Archibald, much like his father, had a winsome, boyish face and Daphne was certain he would be able to lead a clique, if not acquire a fan club, when he got to Hogwarts. They did remind her of her own childhood with Astoria though – playing one moment and squabbling, the next.
She saved Moira Wyndham for last. She could not be older than Teddy but Daphne was impressed that the little girl stood fairly stoically between her parents as her father tried to sell his daughter as one would sell an Aethonan. Occasionally the girl's eyes would flicker almost enviously at her roughhousing brothers before returning her gaze towards 'Aunt' Daphne.
An overwhelming sense of pity flooded through her. It was not uncommon for pureblood parents to find a match which boasted of good connections and wealth, Daphne herself had been paraded around as a potential bride until her mother confirmed she could no longer bear children and Cyril Greengrass had named Daphne his heir.
She stilled the hand that was drifting to stroke her belly. While she knew she had become rather protective of her unborn child, she still had to maintain her aloof façade that was expected of her.
"I'm sure Moira would be a delightful acquaintance. Perhaps when they are older, they can interact with each other?"
It was a standard excuse that Daphne had heard over the years. The Malfoys, for one, had fobbed that same excuse when her father had tried to start negotiations for Astoria's marriage. Even though it was her directing the excuse to someone else, the bland statement still set her teeth on edge. She could now sympathize why her father had reacted badly (in private, naturally) to it.
There was a quick flash of annoyance but it was quickly covered by Alasdair's wide smile and genial mannerisms. Feeling yet another stab of sympathy for the young girl, Daphne dropped a couple of praises of Moira's poise and prettiness before retreating back to the house.
If she had been contemplating a marriage negotiation for her baby before, this would have killed all thoughts on it. Her child would have the opportunity to fall in love with anyone he desired and marry the girl of his dreams. She would not take away his freedom of choice; she doubted she could forgive herself if she did so.
The Battle of Hogwarts was a day that would forever mar the well-renowned, established institution. The school boasted a richness of culture, history and tradition and was once touted as the safest place in Britain. Hogwarts, like all fortresses were wont to do so, had fallen from within.
School rivalry had grown rampant following the second rise of Voldemort. The school had split into two factions – the Light side and the Death Eater scum.
Neutral parties, like Blaise and herself, could no longer stand at the sidelines. Many families, Muggleborn or pureblood, had withdrawn their children from school. Daphne had watched her mother unsuccessfully plead with her father to withdraw her and Astoria. It was a decision that none of them could regret for eleven weeks after Daphne's fifth year had started, Death Eaters began raiding homes and often torturing or killing the families that resided there.
Her father had packed up Greengrass Manor before taking her mother and fleeing Britain, leaving Astoria in her care and nowhere to go. Daphne, like many other students, had not gone home for Christmas or Ostara and had hesitantly put her name down for the summer holidays as the war gained intensity.
Who knew that the final standoff of the Second war with Voldemort would be at Hogwarts?
Daphne had been very fortunate. With Portia Blightwood, the Seventh year female Prefect, leading a neutral faction in the Slytherin dorms, the older Slytherin had somehow managed to get confirmation of the coming attack. The neutral party had quietly evacuated in the cover of the night. Portia and Quigley Grimebell, another Seventh year, had negotiated with the Ravenclaw Prefects to look the other way when they encountered the large group before the neutral party of Slytherin barricaded themselves in what would have been the History of Magic professor's suite of rooms.
Professor Hooch had stormed just after dawn, much to everyone's surprise, to ask for any wand willing to help defend Hogwarts. Daphne had pleaded to any deity that her sister would not be Gryffindor-ish and volunteer on what seemed like a suicide mission. It was then that Daphne had realized Blaise and Tracey, amongst others, had readily joined the Flying instructor and was watching the rest of them with grim eyes.
She had weighed her options quickly. She was not a fighter, it wasn't in her blood – the Greengrasses were diplomats through and through. While she had an arsenal of offensive and defensive spells at the ready, she was still a Slytherin at heart. She would not be battling at the frontlines but neither would she allow anyone to say she was a coward.
"I will stay and defend the younger ones," she had announced at large.
Portia Blightwood had nodded approvingly before unsheathing her own wand and joining Daphne's side. Daphne allowed herself to fade into the backdrop as the older girl barked out orders as Blaise's group left to join the main resistance force.
She would not recall witnessing Portia jumping in front of a curse aimed at Ajax Latimer, one of Astoria's year mates, during the unexpected ambush but she would remember the smell of scorching flesh when Vincent Crabbe attempted to use Fiendfyre on them and it had turned on him instead; flashing spells whizzing back and forth as the fighting spilled out from inside the cramped teacher's quarters to the corridors.
Daphne had not witnessed Harry's triumph but the aftermath and subsequent clean up had left Daphne with a hollowed feeling that Hogwarts could never offer her a sense of comfort again.
Most of the funerals and restoration had come and gone by the time her seventh year rolled round. She had been tempted to sit for her NEWTs privately but given her father's new political stance of backing the Boy-Who-Lived, and newly dubbed Man-Who-Won, she had little choice but to return to the dungeons of Hogwarts for another year.
The marble memorial was unveiled on the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Daphne, as a current student then, had no choice to attend. It was a beautiful piece of art though.
The names of the heroes and victims were inscribed on the smooth marble. Professor McGonagall, the then interim Headmistress, then tapped her wand on Professor Pomona Sprout's name. It was to the crowd's amazement that a cube of filmy-looking smoke materialized before an unmoving shot of the woman's face and her name, birth and death details were formed from the smoke.
Daphne had not attended any of the vigils during the second anniversary but this year Narcissa had announced that as Emperor Harry's consorts, they would be expected to be seen attending a ceremony or making a visit to the memorial which was why on the eve of the anniversary date, Daphne had made the trip back to Hogwarts.
On further inspection of the white marble, she could see that names had been printed in a flowing calligraphy script. She circled the towering pillar, her eyes picking out names that she recognized from her years at Hogwarts.
Su Li.
Geoffrey Oldham.
Maeve Kinsley.
Kevin Entwhistle.
Naomi Matsumoto.
Lavender Brown.
Portia Blightwood.
Reaching out almost unseeingly, she let her fingers trace over Portia's name. Daphne had not been particularly close to her Slytherin senior but she would honestly admit that it took a lot of bravery for the young pureblood witch to stand against the majority of her House members as well as family. Portia had taken a step further and sacrificed her life to save an innocent schoolboy. It went against everything a Slytherin ought to be but in the last moments of Portia's life, she had been selfless, noble.
People like Portia Blightwood deserved to be recognized and honored. Portia had been near ruthless in her dealings with people from other Houses, she was not the kind or affectionate sort of person but in the moments that counted, Portia had been a true leader, a hero of sorts.
"You know, most people would think it rather disturbing for a pregnant woman to caress a tombstone like a lover."
Daphne's musing broken; she turned to glare at the intruder for interrupting her solitude. A smirk grew on her face.
"By Morgana, if it isn't Miss Tracey Davis and late as always."
The young woman flicked her ash-blonde hair back before grinning at Daphne. "Someone has to be fashionably late."
Just a quick note - an Aethonan is one of the many breeds of winged horses mentioned in HPverse.
Also, if anyone can recommend some good HP stories that Harry is capable of using his brain and does not have Harry paired with Ginny or Hermione at ANY given time, I'd appreciate it.
As usual, please review! :)