Chapter 14
13 November 1996 Monday
Harry had been pushing himself harder than Daphne had ever seen. Since they'd moved to Rowan Hill, he had studied hard and long. Eight to ten hours a day was the norm for him. Daphne had worried about him, but he seemed to be happy and showed no signs of burning out.
Once he got back on his feet after his encounter with Voldemort in Diagon Alley, he ate, slept, occasionally made love to her, but most of all he studied, read and practiced. He snapped at her, their family, their friends and even Dobby. The dark circles under his eyes belied his continued response of "I'm fine," to every question about his current state.
"Susan, do you have time to chat?"
"Sure. Let's go for a walk, the rain has finally let up."
Donning their jackets, hats and gloves, the two young women set out in the late afternoon sun. They wound their way up into the hills and deep in the woods in silence. Daphne counted her blessings that it was a comfortable silence. She hadn't really realized how close she had grown to Susan Bones and upon further introspection found the young redhead to be very dear to her.
"I'm worried about Harry."
Susan nodded, "He's pushing himself pretty hard."
"Yeah. I want to tell him he's pushing too hard, but what do I say? 'I know you have to face the darkest wizard in a score of centuries, but you're pushing yourself too hard. You need to play some Quidditch?' It sounds ridiculous in my head and when I say it out loud it's even worse." She slowly shook her head before summing up, "But my heart sees him and shouts out 'Slow Down!'."
In a low tone, she said, "He sleeps three, maybe four hours a night. You've seen him shovel down his meals before retuning to the library."
Susan was silent as they continued their trek. They stopped at a beautiful overlook and admired the valley that they'd just traversed. "Why don't you just tell Harry what you just told me? It makes sense to me. He's not an idiot. If you'd like, I'll talk to Neville and if he agrees – and I think he does – maybe the three of us can talk to him. You know, concerned loved ones and all that."
Daphne nodded absently. She liked the idea of support when she talked to Harry. Their relationship had been so easy so far. Sure, they'd squabbled a bit, but it passed within minutes. Literally. Then they'd make love for what seemed like a blissful eternity.
This was hard, though.
She was afraid of angering him. She was afraid of driving him away. She was afraid of losing his love. It was the most important thing in her life and she was terrified of losing him. Most of the time, Daphne was a very secure, confident young woman.
Somehow, it felt traitorous to feel this way, much less to act on it.
Harry's love for her was a nebulous issue. She never doubted him as a person. She had the utmost respect and confidence in him. Maybe it was an after effect of her relationship with her father, but she had an irrational feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was terrified that he'd walk in the room one day and tell her to leave as he didn't love her anymore.
"I'm on his side. I'll always be on his side. I don't want him to doubt that for a moment and that's why I'm having these thoughts in the first place, because I love him."
Susan hooked her arm in Daphne's and pulled her friend close. "We all love Harry. The four of us are family and we love each other. I've seen it and you've seen it. Even though Neville is a guy, I'm sure he's seen it. Harry is doing this because he loves us all so much his heart must feel like bursting. He wants to protect us. I think if we tell him what we see, he'll end up seeing the situation from our point of view."
Daphne gave her friend a mock-sneer, "You are such a bloody Hufflepuff."
Susan laughed, "And you are such a bloody Slytherin." The laughter fell away and Susan advised, "Daphne, don't try to manipulate Harry into doing what you want. He'll smell it a mile away. You saw what he's done to the Headmaster because of his manipulations."
Susan let that tidbit settle in for a long moment before continuing, "I really think that Harry will respond best when we put our cards on the table and are brutally honest with him. Warts and all, if you catch my drift."
Daphne nodded her head and walked on, her fingers beating a tattoo on her crossed arms.
15 November 1996 Wednesday
Dinner at Rowan Hill was a decidedly domestic event this evening. Harry and Phillip were thoroughly engrossed in Phillip's favourite topic – Quidditch. Harry was explaining to him why a Seeker had to time the use of a Wronski Feint just right or else the opposition wouldn't bite and he'd find himself out of position for no gain.
Evelyn and George were smiling at each other across the table and trading little expressions of affection that alternately made Daphne smile and frown. One time, she caught Harry's attention and he only shrugged in response.
Susan and Amelia were dining at Green Hills this evening. Lady Augusta had met Susan and Amelia at social functions, but they had not dined together. Daphne smiled remembering Susan and Neville's nervousness; each of them for different reasons.
"Thank the gods that we didn't have to go through that," she mumbled to herself before casting an eye at Astoria. Since they'd taken the fourth year from school on Saturday morning, Astoria had been quiet and reserved. While normally a shy girl in the company of others, at home she was quite gregarious and even opinionated.
Leaning to her right, she asked her sister, "Are you alright?"
Daphne was shocked to see her sister glare at her. "I'm fine," the younger girl hissed at her sister.
Frowning, Daphne pushed, "No really, what's bothering you?"
Astoria abruptly stood from the table and said to her sister, "Dinner was excellent as usual. My compliments to Dobby."
Thoroughly bewildered, Daphne called, "Stori?" as her sister quickly left the Dining Room.
Looking to Harry and seeing an equally bemused expression, she made to stand.
"Don't."
Now irritated, Daphne looked to her mother for an explanation. "Don't try and talk to her while she's upset. She'll calm down quickly and you can talk to her after dinner."
"What's she so upset about?"
Evelyn paused and looked at her plate. "I'm not sure."
Daphne waved her hand in exasperation before resuming her meal in an irritated silence.
The long moment of silence was awkward. Daphne ignored it as she resolutely attacked her dinner.
"So, when the opposing chasers are using the Hawkshead, it's a good time to pull a starfish and stick on them?" Phillip asked his brother in law, breaking the tension.
Harry looked at him mutely for a long moment before answering, "Well, it depends…"
.oOo.
"Dobby," Daphne called.
With a muted pop, the young elf who kept Rowan Hill in top shape appeared in front of her, beaming a smile.
"Yes, Mistress? How can Dobby serve?"
Daphne gave the half smile that Dobby's enthusiasm always seemed to engender. "Do you know where my sister currently is?"
"Mistress Astoria is in her bedroom, Mistress."
"Thank you, Dobby. Dinner was delicious, as usual."
Before he could respond, Daphne was moving away so she missed the tears of gratitude that welled up in his eyes at her complement.
Daphne paused outside Astoria's bedroom. It was in the east wing so the balcony had a gorgeous view of the mountains and their encircling forests. Daphne opened the door after a firm knock. The knock was just to announce her presence, not ask permission to enter.
She found her sister leaning on the balcony rail, looking out into the early evening sky. Daphne rolled her eyes when Astoria didn't acknowledge her presence. Walking to the French doors which opened on the balcony, she leaned on the jamb. After waiting what seemed like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, Daphne asked, "Do you want to tell me about it?"
She thought she'd asked in a congenial tone. The look of fury on her sister's face seemed to bely that belief. "No!" Astoria hissed before walking all the way across the room and flouncing into an overstuffed chair.
Thoroughly annoyed and out of patience, Daphne barked, "What is your problem? You're acting like a brat!"
Bolting up from her chair, Astoria shouted at her sister, "My problem? My problem is you, sister dear!" Her sarcasm was not lost on Daphne.
Daphne glared at her sister and waved her hand for the younger girl to continue. "Screw you, Daphne! You don't own me. You're not my mother!"
Now Daphne's temper began to sizzle, "You know, you can just sit up here and sulk over what's bothering you. I tried to help, and you just want to be a child."
Daphne moved to the door to leave when Astoria unloaded on her. "You want to know my problem? It's you!" The livid girl was shaking in her emotion as Daphne turned with a shocked look on her face.
"What did I do?" she asked in real confusion.
"What did you do?" the younger girl scoffed. "My life is ruined because of you!"
Thoroughly confused, Daphne's temper surged back, "What!"
Pointing her finger at her sister, Astoria shouted, "You just had to go and marry him didn't you? My life has been bouncing from bad to worse ever since. Did you think of anyone beyond yourself? No!"
A wave of guilt swept over Daphne, she hadn't thought of the impact of her marriage on the family. Maybe if she had, her father would still be alive.
Astoria was on a roll and not to be denied, "My summer turns to crap. Father is killed. I end up in the hospital after seeing some truly horrific things. Little Phillip is now head of the Family. Mother has taken up with a Healer of all things. You pull me out of school. And you," the venom in her voice was unmistakable. "You go prancing about being all socialite Lady Potter," the sneer in her voice dripped with scorn. "Well, fuck you."
Enraged Daphne shot back. "Listen to me you ungrateful bitch," The Wolf was snarling through her and she could almost feel her hackles rise. "I've done the best I could for our family. The attack on the house would have happened regardless of my marriage; me being with Harry just moved up the timetable a bit. Anyway, it's not as if I had much of a choice in the matter. Father just as good as sold me."
"Oh, don't give me that shit! You were ecstatic to be his wife. You were probably shagging him before he came back with the contract. Probably why he did it in the first place. You must be a pretty good piece of ass for Lord Potter to jump at you."
Daphne saw red and before she knew what she was doing, she'd crossed the ten feet that separated her from her sister and slapped her across the face, hard.
"If it wasn't for our mother, I'd throw you out of my home. As it is, stay in your room. If you want to have a tantrum, you'll do it out of sight. I am Lady Potter and you will obey me in my own home." With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
.oOo.
Daphne stood on the veranda, watching the moon. Her mood waxed and waned from furious to sad and back. She had ignored her family the last few months since her marriage to Harry. To be fair, she had been whipped along as if holding on to the tail of a tiger. Still, this was her family and in retrospect, she had to concede that Astoria's life had been very difficult since that late June day.
Didn't mean she had to be such a harpy, though.
The only aspect of Astoria's rant that Daphne felt she had a legitimate defence was that all her actions had been without malice. Inconsideration and a touch of self-centeredness, yes. Nevertheless, there was no malice in Daphne's heart.
Sighing, she debated climbing up to Astoria's room when she heard footsteps in the hall. Without turning, she stilled and listened until a soft voice called out.
"Daphne?"
Astoria had been crying, that was evident. Turning to her sister, Daphne saw the hesitant expression, the longing for reconciliation. Daphne held out her arms and the younger girl flew into her sister's arms.
"I'm so sorry. I was such a bitch."
Shaking her head and holding her sibling close, Daphne countered, "No, I've focused on myself and my husband to the exclusion of you, Mum and Phillip. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, Stori."
Astoria shook her head again, but didn't say anything. After a while, the sisters sat on a bench together and watched the moon. Daphne cast a Warming charm on Astoria when the younger girl shivered. "Thanks."
"Sure. So want to tell me what started all this?"
Astoria shrugged in an embarrassed way.
"No, really, what's up?"
Astoria sighed, "Getting pulled out of school just drove home how abnormal my life had become. My sister is Lady Potter and my brother in law is the Boy-Who-Lived. I had started to see a boy and…"
She never finished as Daphne interrupted. "Who? What house?"
Astoria smiled and rolled her eyes. "His name is Patrick Coakley and he's a Ravenclaw."
From there, their discussion devolved into the official realm of 'girl talk'. When they headed upstairs a few hours later, they paused at the head of the stairs where Daphne embraced Astoria for a long moment.
"I love you Stori."
"I love you too, Daphne."
Astoria headed to the east wing while Daphne turned to the west. Closing the door to the master bedroom, she saw Harry sitting in a chair next to their oversized fireplace, reading a book and waiting up for her.
"Everything Ok?" he asked.
She sighed and motioned him to the bed. Bone tired and emotionally spent, she needed his physical closeness. He lay in his spot while she cuddled up to him. He was still toasty from the fire so she took advantage of it by curling about him. "It is now. She was feeling…pressure. Abnormal. Teenage angst. All kinds of stuff wrapped up into one."
Harry wrapped her up in his arms and asked, "But everything is sorted?"
She sighed in relief and tiredness. "Yeah. Could you stay in bed tonight? I need you here and not in the library."
Nodding to her, he then kissed the top of her head. "Sure."
16 November 1996 Thursday
Daphne looked about the sitting room and tapped her nails nervously. Tonks sat in the window seat talking to Remus who leaned on the wall next to her. Neville and Susan sat on the couch across from her silently holding hands and waiting. Hermione sat in the chair next to Daphne's, attempting to read a book. Daphne smiled at her bushy haired friend. The young woman had been looking at the same page for the last ten minutes.
Standing in front of the fire and warming his hands was Rodger Young. Their charms professor had actually approached Daphne about his concerns, so she had invited him to the gathering this evening. Jean Dubois concurred as well, but had an unavoidable commitment.
The reason for their gathering walked in the door, a book in his hand. Harry had been reading as he walked so he didn't notice the abrupt cessation of discussion, but he did notice Daphne's soft, "Harry, we would like to talk with you."
Harry looked about the room quizzically. Most returned his look with a neutral expression, except Remus. The werewolf had a look of regret on his face, as if the discussion to come was somehow his fault.
With a slight frown, he sat in his chair next to the fire. "What's going on?" he asked.
Before Daphne could say anything, Remus spoke. "Harry, we're very concerned."
Settling in his chair, he set the book on the table next to him and responded, "What's going on?"
There was a long pause where Daphne decided to take the plunge. "We're all concerned about you, love."
"Me? What about me?" Now his face was closed, defensive.
Tonks picked up the thread, "You're pushing yourself too hard, Harry."
"You're not sleeping enough, not eating enough," Neville continued.
"You're running yourself into the ground," finished Susan.
Harry looked into his lap for a moment and Daphne thought to herself, Oh shit. Here it comes.
"I don't see anyone else here who is fated to face and kill Voldemort. I don't see anyone else here who has that responsibility hanging over him. What else am I supposed to do? Laze my way through the day as more people die?"
Abruptly, he stood from his chair and stalked toward the door. Rodger Young stood in his path and held out his hands.
"Peace, young Harry," the large man soothed. "We are here because we all care about you."
Harry glared at the man for a long moment before nodding his head and turning to the others. Daphne had a tear track on her cheek while Neville rubbed Susan's back.
"Harry, don't be a prat."
The Boy-Who-Lived looked at Tonks as if she had two heads.
The metamorph stood and waved her hands in agitation, "You are not responsible for what Voldemort does! You aren't responsible for the people he hurts or kills! Just because you are 'fated' to meet with him, doesn't mean you should run yourself into the dirt first."
Harry's glare was back, "You have no idea. Every night I think about the thirteen people that he continually murdered and then sent their mutilated corpses to the Ministry atrium. Even when it stopped last week, I still remember. He did that for months! How many died? If I had been a better student, if I had put forth more effort before, I might be ready now. How many lives would be saved? How is that not my fault?"
"That is so much crap, I'm stunned to hear that from you," commented Hermione.
She'd been quiet up until now, but Harry recognized her expression. The brightest witch of her age was hopping mad and Harry was about to get an earful.
"Every year you've had a life threatening situation hanging over your head. Every year you've had to fight your way through the Headmaster's manipulations and games just to survive the term. Let's not forget the minor hurdles like a Dark Lord, Dementors, Dragons, Basilisks and so on that you had to dispatch. Minor things like projects, essays and homework have taken a justified back seat to your survival."
A small smile flitted on the edge of Harry's mouth. A joke about the importance of homework was forming, but fell flat in the atmosphere of the room.
"You've done more to fight Voldemort in the last five years than anyone else on the planet." Hermione stood and was shaking her finger at her best friend. "You beat him at the Stone. You beat his memory in the Chamber. You beat him in the Graveyard. You beat him at the Ministry. You beat him in the Alley. At every turn, you stop him, so stop feeling so guilty. It's not your fault, and it's not your responsibility!"
At the last, she wrapped her arms around Harry and gave him one of her trademark hugs.
Gently, he returned her hug. The group gave a collective sigh of relief, thinking they'd won him over. Daphne, however, tensed. She knew he'd not been 'won over' nor were they past the explosive part of the conversation.
Harry usually didn't say much. They'd chat and talk about their day, but when it came to his emotions; his expression was a far better indicator of how he felt than his words. Once she'd figured that out, Daphne began to read him quite accurately. The soft, open, wondrous expression of his love melted her heart every time. She could almost feel his love washing over her when he looked at her with that expression.
After Molly Weasley's howler was the first time she'd seen him truly angry. Thunderous brows atop flashing eyes and a twisted mouth very clearly told her to stand back.
Now, he had a fairly neutral expression which made Daphne nervous. He had his walls up and, for the moment, didn't trust the people he was surrounded by. This hurt her a little bit. Ever since they'd been united in late June, he'd been open with her. At first, it was because of his injuries. He couldn't help but be open with her. Very quickly, though, they'd fallen in love and he wanted to be open with her.
Harry gently let go of the sister of his heart and proceeded to glare at everyone in the room. After a long moment, he asked, "Since you all insist that I take it easy, answer me this, if you will."
"I know how to vanquish Voldemort. That's actually the easy part. I need to be good enough to hold him down for about thirty to forty five seconds while I perform the ritual. So tell me how I'm to be good enough to incapacitate the most powerful Dark Lord since Morgana LeFey without working my ass off to get there!"
He finished in a muted roar as the stunned crowd of his loved ones watched him.
In a subdued tone, Daphne tried to sooth her husband. "Love, we aren't saying that you should take it easy and relax on the beach all day. Just back off the high intensity tempo you've been working at the last month or so. Eight or even ten hours a day of studying should be good enough without you burning up like a firework."
He glared at her for the first time in their acquaintance. His mouth opened to say something, but the words failed him and his lip curled in a sneer. He reserved the expression for people he loathed. Snape, Umbridge and Voldemort had been on the receiving end of that glare.
Knowing this, Daphne tucked her head and cried. Her heart felt that all her fears were coming true; he felt betrayed by her and now hated her. Tonks came to Daphne's left side, while Susan came to her right. Both women glared at Harry while they held their friend.
Neville walked up to Harry and punched him on the jaw.
Harry recoiled in shock as Neville glared at his best friend. "You bloody pillock! She loves you more than her own life! We're all here because we love you! We're on your side, goddamn you!"
With wide eyes, Harry rubbed his already bruising jaw. A guilty expression emerged on his face like the clouds revealing the sun. Daphne met his eyes and before she averted her face, she saw remorse on his face like she'd never seen. His voice was soft when he asked them all, "Could you please give Daphne and me some privacy?"
Susan stayed by Daphne's side, Neville waiting for his girlfriend by the door. Everyone else had left when Susan stood, walked up to Harry and hissed at him. "If you hurt her again, I'll transform and claw out your eyes."
Harry flinched and looked at his feet, nodding as he did so. Susan strode out of the room, not looking back. Harry met Neville's gaze and the Longbottom of Longbottom gave him a nod. Daphne could tell that the young man was trying to remind his friend that Harry had stood by him in a hard time and Neville would stand by his friend in a hard time.
With tears in his eyes, Harry whispered, "Thanks, Nev."
"Anytime, brother."
Harry nodded and Neville shut the door to the sitting room as he left.
"I'm sorry."
Harry rocked back on his heels as his wife apologized to her. He quickly moved so that he was kneeling in front of her. Daphne's face was tear-stained and her eyes were red. She sat there wringing a handkerchief in her hands as she pleaded with him, "Please forgive me. I didn't want to betray you." Frantic, she was trying to reverse the course of events so that he would absolve her of the perceived wrongdoing. "Don't leave me."
Later, he told her that his heart broke and he filled with self loathing when she said this. The only thing he could think to do was take her in his arms and hold her close.
Daphne broke down. Sobbing, she barely heard him repeatedly apologize. "I'm so sorry, Daph. It's not your fault. It's all my fault, I'm so sorry." Finally, her sobs trickled to sniffles and he muttered, "It's been so crazy and I'm…"
She gained a measure of control over herself and looked up at him. "What?" she asked.
It was his turn for the tears to brim over his eyes. She reached up and cupped his face with both hands. It was a reassuring touch, conveying love and trust. "Tell me."
"I'm terrified that I'll lose you. I can't live without you. I don't want to live without you."
Through a wet smile, she wiped his tears, "Silly man. We'll never be apart. Not even death can truly part us."
He crushed her to him and they held each other tight. After a bit, they relaxed their embrace and settled into a comforting cuddle on the couch.
"Next time, talk to me when you're feeling this kind of thing." She poked him in the chest playfully, "Partners, remember?"
Nodding, he answered, "I will, love." He paused then continued, "And you need to tell me about your fears. I'll never leave you. Only death will separate us and even then, I'll be waiting for you."
She nodded into his chest as he squeezed her tight. "I need to apologize to the group, don't I?"
"It'd be a good idea. We all gathered because we were concerned and love you. I'm sure they understand, but an apology wouldn't be amiss."
He began to play with her hair and she arched her back, almost purring under his ministrations.
"I love you Daphne."
"I love you, too."
.oOo.
"So what's with 'I know how to vanquish Voldemort. That's actually the easy part' stuff, Harry?" Susan was sitting on Neville's lap after Harry had made his mass apology for his earlier tantrum.
Harry shrugged as Daphne rubbed his hand. "I found it in the Black Family grimoire. It's called 'Judging of the Damned' and it's a pretty powerful ritual. In a nutshell, I invoke the forces of magic to judge the person I cast the spell on and offer myself as a comparison. If the other person, Voldemort in this case, is condemned he's cast into hell."
Daphne frowned, "There must be a catch, it's too easy."
Rubbing his free hand through his inky locks, Harry explained, "I have to also offer myself as the compensation in case he's not found wanting."
Now there were lots of frowns. Remus spoke first, "Harry, could you please transcribe everything regarding this ritual for me. I'd like to do a little more investigating before you offer yourself as a willing sacrifice in a ritual about which we don't know a lot of details."
Daphne tightened her grip on her husband's hand. On the surface, the ritual appeared to be an easy solution. With Voldemort's history of violence, there was very little chance that he wouldn't be condemned and cast into perdition.
However, this was magic and anything was possible.
She heard a muted crack of apparition from the Entry Hall. Harry glanced at his watch and muttered, "Hope it's Amelia."
When the sitting Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom strode by the doorway, Harry muttered, "Be right back," and hurried after Amelia.
A few minutes later, Harry returned to the sitting room and sidled up to his wife. Daphne cuddled up to him again and as they all watched Remus and Tonks fight over the WWN station to listen to, she murmured her question to him.
"So, what was that all about?"
He leaned into her ear and answered in an equally low voice. "I asked Amelia for help. I want the best fighter to train me. All of us will participate, I suppose. But I need to be better."
She nodded her understanding as the Weird Sisters blared over the wireless, indicating that Remus had lost the argument with Tonks.
.oOo.
22 November 1996 Wednesday
"Harry, I found your new trainer."
Harry had been a bit nervous about his request. Amelia had been perfectly amenable about his need to be better, but it had almost been a week since he asked.
Nodding, he asked, "Who is he and when will he be available?"
Cocking an eyebrow in amusement, the Minister teased the young man of whom she was so fond. "A bit anxious are we?"
Harry rolled his eyes in response and sighed, "Amelia…"
Daphne smiled from the other end of the breakfast table. Despite her age, Amelia had become a big sister to Harry. Notwithstanding his grumblings, she knew that he truly had come to love the older woman. On occasion, he would go to her for advice about government, business and most recently, life matters.
After a sip of her tea and munch of her scone, Amelia sighed in return. "Since you're so impatient, I guess I'll tell you." She smiled when Susan snickered and elaborated.
"He's not in the DMLE, per se. He's in a …different ...department of the Ministry."
"An Unspeakable, then," Daphne offered.
With an exaggerated motion, Amelia shrugged. Returning to her breakfast, she said, "His name is Roland and he'll be here at one."
.oOo.
The fireplace in the Entry Hall roared as the clock struck one. The Floo fired green and disgorged a tall lean man. Harry and Daphne were waiting for him and took an involuntary step back when the man straightened up.
Few people in the world inspire feelings in others around them when first met. Harry had been that way for her. Daphne smiled ruefully to herself, That could be different, though. Despite her loathing of the man, Albus Dumbledore inspired a feeling of awe and respect. She supposed that had Tom Riddle not become Lord Voldemort, he too would have that effect on others. However, as Lord Voldemort he inspired fear, terror even.
This Roland, though, his entire persona radiated danger.
Daphne's thoughts were more of an impression. Later, she'd tell Susan that she could almost feel the intensity of the man. He was a warrior, a knight from another age. She instantly knew that the man was implacable in his pursuit, devastatingly proficient in combat and terrifyingly single minded.
He was exactly who they needed.
His pale blue eyes surveyed them both dispassionately and sternly at the same time, if that was possible. Silently he looked at them, his piercing gaze peering out from a face that was all sharp angles. After a long evaluation, he spoke.
"Where shall we begin?"
.oOo.
"What is your objective?"
"To defeat Voldemort," Harry responded. They were in the Library, having a discussion regarding their path ahead. Roland sat across the table from the Potters and was all business.
Frowning, he asked, "What does it mean to 'defeat' your enemy? I don't know what that means in practical terms."
A bit befuddled, Harry answered, "To capture or kill him."
"Which is it?"
"Kill."
"Good. I ask you again, what is your objective?"
"To kill Voldemort."
Leaning back in his chair, this lean, dangerous man evaluated Daphne's husband again. "Can you kill?"
"Yes."
"Have you killed?"
"Yes."
Nodding to himself as if taking a mental note, Roland reached in his robes and withdrew a short stemmed, wide bowl pipe. Without looking at it, he filled, tamped and lit it. The entire time he watched Harry.
Daphne was more than a bit nervous. Roland was an extremely intimidating man. He wasn't that large, but his personality screamed 'predator'. If he were an Animagus, he would be an apex predator. Realizing this, she calmed. She too was an apex predator.
After a few draws on his pipe, Roland asked another of his seemingly interminable questions.
"How do you kill?"
Somewhat bemused, Harry glanced at Daphne. She frowned and shook her head; she didn't understand the question either.
"How do you kill, young Potter?"
Still puzzled, Harry answered, "With my wand or other weapon."
Scowling, Roland stared at Harry. After another long silence, the Unspeakable spoke in a cold, flat tone. "Wrong."
Harry was becoming a bit irritated. With more than a little sarcasm, he asked, "Well, since I've been killing these Death Eaters all wrong so far, why don't you tell me how to do it correctly?"
She wasn't sure, but Daphne thought a ghost of a smile flitted across the older man's face. It was gone before she cold be sure.
"How do you cast a spell?"
"Intent and execution." Now Harry and Daphne were completely confused.
Roland nodded and continued the digression. "So when you cast, say, a Cutting curse at a Death Eater and kill him, you have a mechanical aspect of the casting that is mated to a mental attitude."
The light began to shine on his point for Daphne and she didn't like it. Narrowing her eyes at the man, she waited for him to come full circle.
"The mechanical aspects of the spell are beside the point. They are ingrained into your muscle memory and you are at the point now where you make wand movements without realizing you are doing it, yes?"
Harry nodded in response. He had a contemplative expression on his face as he pondered Roland's logic.
"Therefore, the mental aspect of the spell is what is important. Your intent. As a result, I ask you again, young Potter. How do you kill?"
"With my mind."
"Very true. Where does the intent for your spell originate."
With a falling expression, Harry answered in a low voice, "My heart."
Roland nodded in satisfaction. "That is why you have not killed him yet. I have watched multiple memories of your encounter with him in Diagon Alley. You were not ready in your mind. Your spellcasting is good. Your mechanics are sufficient for the task."
"Your mind and heart are not ready for the task."
"The term 'No Quarter' was invented for situations like this. Hesitation is death. You were very lucky. You hesitated; in return, he counterattacked and by a miracle of heaven, you survived. That will not happen again. You must attack, attack, attack. Gain the advantage, press the advantage and then cut of his fucking head."
This was all delivered in a flat tone as if he were discussing the differences between Quodpot and Quidditch.
"Since you do not kill with your wand, you kill with your heart; you must accept that you will deliberately kill this man. Can you do this?"
After a moment's reflection, Harry nodded.
Sitting back in his chair, Roland nodded again. Drawing deeply on his pipe, he contemplated Harry for a short moment. "Good. We can get to work then."
.oOo.
28 November 1996 Tuesday
Roland had almost killed Harry twice. The man was faster than a snake and preternaturally accurate with his spellcasting. They started a 'familiarization duel' in the Room of Pain as it was sleeting outside.
Roland immediately called a halt.
"Why are you still visible?"
Harry looked at him with an open mouth before sheepishly replying, "Because I never thought of Disillusioning myself?"
With the patient tones of a teacher, Roland explained, "This is for no quarter, young Potter. There is no 'fair' in your fight with Voldemort. Use any and all dirty tricks you can think of against him. Be sure that he will use them against you."
Nodding, Harry began the wand movement for the Disillusionment charm when Roland stopped him again. "Not Disillusionment, but Invisibility. Disillusionment can still be seen and to an experienced duellist, it's no real hindrance." Roland promptly taught Harry the spell for true Invisibility. "It will last for a few hours before it wears off. Disillusionment lasts longer, though.
Roland then ripped off four Bludgeoning hexes that knocked Harry unconscious, breaking his shoulder in the process. Daphne, who was sitting off to the side watching, stared open mouthed at the man's speed.
Casually, Roland healed the Potter heir then awakened him. "Faster. You must be faster."
So it went. At one point in the beating, Roland paused to allow Harry a moment to catch his breath and drink a glass of water. He explained, "I am not nearly as powerful as you or Voldemort in raw magical power. In a contest of that sort, I would be left behind by you. However, I am faster. As such, I can negate your power by incapacitating you before you can bring your power to bear."
A curtain was pulled away in Daphne's mind and the light shown on the solution. She was excited now that she could see the solution. Desire to run up to Roland and hug him followed by snogging her husband within an inch of his life coursed through her as she fought just to stay in her seat.
Harry, too, must have come to the same conclusion. A look of happy amazement stole over his features. "I can beat him if I can bring my high power to bear on him faster than he can bring it on me."
"Yes."
"But he's pretty fast already."
"True, but you can be faster."
"But I've been beating Death Eaters. Well trained Death Eaters."
"There is a gulf of difference between the Dark Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy."
Harry nodded solemnly in agreement before smiling again.
"You must believe that you can be faster than anyone alive, myself included. You must know this as a fact and when your heart and mind are united in this belief, your body will catch up. Belief begins with a decision. Faith is built upon successful execution of said belief." Roland's eyes bored into Harry's. Pale blue chips of ice bored into the lush emerald green. "Now, decide."
Now that the lesson had been imparted, the duelling stopped and speed exercises began, followed by accuracy drills.
Every afternoon, Roland came over and trained Harry while Daphne watched. She took to performing the exercises and drills on her own time. Usually while Harry napped in recovery from the punishment he took from the tall, lean man.
Sunday was a day of rest and the humourless man nodded at Daphne's sugary sweet thanks for a day off. Harry slept until noon and then Daphne dragged him through their private Floo to the house in France where they lay on the fairly warm beach for the day.
.oOo.
As Daphne worked her way through her breakfast plate, she stretched her right leg. She'd had a muscle pull at the top of her right calf for over a week and the pain seemed to migrate from her knee to her calf and back. Stretching had mitigated the pain somewhat, but she was already very limber.
Rest was the only thing that truly helped and she chafed at not being able to run. Ruefully, she smiled to herself. When they started running over the summer, she'd hated it. Now, she missed it intensely. Running became a contest of her will over her body's tiredness and weakness. Daphne Potter was definitely competitive.
Harry didn't seem to mind the results either.
She looked down at the other end of the table, watching Harry and Susan chatting about something. In bed last night, he'd rolled over to her and she'd expected him to want to have sex. Instead, he wanted to talk.
In the light of the moon that was just past full, he had closed his eyes and opened himself to her. He was worried. Roland's instruction was twofold. Magically, he was driving Harry to be faster, more accurate with each spell. "Make each spell count," was the maxim. Harry had no problem with that, in fact he embraced the concept.
What was most worrisome was the other half of the instruction. Roland's concept of 'I kill with my mind' had really shaken Harry to the core. He was afraid he would lose himself; lose or damage that which makes him the Harry that she loved and he liked to be.
He had spoken haltingly. As she curled up to his side, she realized that it was very difficult for him to talk about his own fears or insecurities. Part must have been the natural reticence that most people have regarding baring their most painful fears. However, another aspect of his reticence tied directly to those bastards who go by the name of Dursley.
Her eyes narrowed in malice as she though of them. Retribution would be forthcoming.
Later, she'd made slow sweet love to him, eyes open and gazing into his own. Her cerulean mingled with his emerald, lovingly, affectionately. She was surprisingly moved and as they lay in the afterglow of their love Daphne almost wept, the emotions were so consuming.
In the end, they had talked through the situation and Harry had come to the conclusion that he really didn't have much of a choice. He didn't want to become a cold and hard person, but in battle, he'd put the persona on like a cloak. A tool to help him just as much as their newly purchased dragons hide body armour.
As Daphne faded to sleep wrapped in his arms, she heard him whisper, "At least I hope it won't be permanent."
She hoped so as well. For both of their sakes.
.oOo.
Amelia came in and sat at the table. Paging through the paper and sipping her tea, Amelia munched toast and slowly became human. Daphne had only once attempted to talk to the older woman before being spoken to first. It had been an unhappy experience.
Eventually, the elder Bones at the table stood, moved to the sideboard to plate her meal and returned looking a tad more human. "Harry," she drawled, "we're starting to pull in larger numbers of Death Eaters. Your memory of the graveyard resurrection was like pulling a thread and the whole seam is beginning to come undone."
Daphne now had her full attention on their eldest housemate. "We're picking up quite a few foreigners in the mix. It seems that Voldemort has been recruiting heavily in the former eastern block countries. Poverty is poverty, be you a wizard or muggle. He's paying and they are willing."
"Mercenaries? He's marking mercenaries?" Susan asked, incredulous.
With a gimlet eye, Amelia turned to her niece and responded, "What better way to ensure their loyalty?" To this, Susan could only shrug in acceptance of the point. Amelia looked down at her plate, her expression one of mingled frustration and exasperation.
"It feels like he has a bottomless pit of manpower." Waving her free hand at her own dramatics, she winced and countered her own statement, "Oh, I know he doesn't. That's not possible; it just feels that way." Pointing to Harry, she continued, "You and your team have taken down approximately fifty Death Eaters. Well over one hundred perished in the Diagon Alley skirmish. We've rolled up a further thirty. A Chimera, a score of trolls. He may not be out of people, but he must be feeling the pinch. It must be driving him mad."
A new idea occurred to Daphne. Like the rising sun, it quickly filled out full form in her mind and she began to smile. From the other end of the table, Harry cocked an eyebrow at her in query.
"I have a little idea," she announced.
.oOo.
07 December 1996 Sunday
Daphne woke to a voice calling, "Harry, wake up." Lifting her head from her pillow, she saw Remus standing at the foot of the bed calling out in a futile attempt to wake her husband.
Squinting against the light of his illuminated wand, she asked, "What is it, Remus?"
She could feel his sigh down the length of the king sized bed and the werewolf's expression conveyed an exhausted, unutterable sadness.
"Voldemort attacked Hogwarts last night. Minerva is dead."
Fully awake, she flopped down on the bed, her stomach a twisted cold mass.
"I'll wake him, we'll be down shortly."
Daphne rolled onto her back, staring at the gilt ceiling. Her grief mingled with shock and the combination threatened to overwhelm her.
Taking a moment to watch her peacefully sleeping husband, Daphne soaked in the image of him. Laying on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, he was facing her in the first slivers of early morning light. He looked so peaceful, so at ease with the world, she hated the thought of rousing him to more death and destruction.
Unbidden, a wave of hatred washed over her. Damn you to hell, Voldemort. May God damn you to the deepest reaches of the deepest pits in Tartarus. I hope the fate of Chronos is mild compared to what they do to you.
Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw it was five AM. Only a half hour earlier than their normal rousing time. With a sigh of sorrow, frustration and sadness, Daphne scooted across the bed to waken her husband.
.oOo.
A hollow eyed Harry Potter sat at his breakfast table. The normal sumptuous feast had been carefully prepared by Dobby. It had been artfully displayed and the room sparkled like a freshly cut diamond.
Harry didn't notice.
Troubled by Harry's reaction to the news of Minerva's death, Daphne sat at the opposite end of the table watching him and worrying her napkin. Back and forth, she twisted the linen square. She was awash in emotion; grief for their professor whom she had come to regard with affection, worry for her husband, relief that they'd removed Astoria from school in time, anger at Dumbledore for allowing the attack to happen.
She realized that blaming Dumbledore for the attack was irrational and childish. It didn't make the feeling go away, though. Amelia had wolfed down her breakfast, but before she left for what promised to be a very long day, she'd informed them that there were no other deaths. Unfortunately, most of the staff was wounded to varying degrees.
Attempting to comfort Harry after Amelia left, she was gently rebuffed. He turned to her with an expression as bleak as an early January sky; the only words he would speak were, "The last thing I said to her was unkind."
Words failed her so she attempted to convey the depth of her support with her body. She led him to the sofa and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He resisted at first. She could feel his muscles stiffen and stand out like steel cords.
No miraculous solution for Harry and his emotional state occurred to her. She did for him that her mother had done for her. Slowly, she rubbed his back in a gentle circular pattern. Her hand traced a path between his shoulder blades that slowly but surely encouraged him to relax.
Twenty minutes later, he had completely melded into her embrace, wrapping his own arms around her. Clinging to her like a lifebuoy, he began to breathe with a hitching gait. Five minutes after this, his first tear fell. A liquid drop of grief, carrying away heartache, grief, anger. With his first sob, Daphne returned her attention to her own feelings and succumbed to the grief welling up inside her.
She never did find out how long they lay there, holding each other in their sadness while the storm of grief raged in their hearts. Eventually, they swapped positions and Harry held his wife close. With her head on his chest, Daphne listened to his heartbeat and felt safe. Harry whispered, "Thank you. I love you."
"Anytime, Harry. I love you."
.oOo.
Daphne and Harry slowly walked the path from Hogsmeade to their former school. When Harry had suggested they visit the school and see how Filius fared, she had nodded and said, "Maybe we should ask the other members of the Fifteen if they want to visit the injured as well? A show of solidarity against the Death Eaters."
Dobby had popped away with five letters. Susan and Neville were eating breakfast and agreed to come to the school. Daphne had given Neville a big hug when he had broken down at the news of Minerva's death.
It appeared that the two orphan boys had held their former head of house much closer to their heart than most others had. She could see how Minerva could fill a long needed role for both young men. This must have been especially true when they came to know her on a more personal level this past summer.
The sky was overcast and the wind gusted, chilling them through their heavy cloaks. Daphne leaned into Harry and he put his arm around her shoulder. Ahead of them on the path, Susan and Neville unconsciously mimicked the Potters.
They were all dressed in black, deference to their fallen professor and the remaining wounded was foremost in all their minds. Daphne sombrely reflected on death. Before this past summer, she'd experienced death twice. The family's dog had died when she was ten and her Grandmama had passed when she was fourteen.
Grandmama had been a wonderful woman, but old. Many a time the frail, aged woman would grin at her eldest granddaughter and whisper, "I'm not going to be around much longer, my dear. Must tell you how wonderful you are and that I love you." This was always followed by a warm hug that lasted just the right amount of time. When the old woman passed on, Daphne had cried long. Not because she was shocked over the old woman's death. Rather, it was because she was already missing the wonderful woman who told the best stories.
Leaning into Harry, she wiped a tear off her cheek. Her regard for Minerva was complicated. For many years, she'd considered the Transfiguration teacher as one of her professors, nothing more.
This summer she'd come to know the woman quite well and respected her highly. In the repressive, bigoted society that made up magical Britain, Minerva McGonagall was one of the few women each generation who climbed to a post of leadership and excelled. She, and Professor Sprout to a lesser extent, was a shining example to the young witches that they didn't have to be housewives if they didn't desire it. Professional careers were open to them as women. There would be work – and glass ceilings that they'd have to deal with - but it was attainable.
Amelia was like that as well. She too had overcome many obstacles to rise to the height of her profession. Not a small feat, by any means. Since the Bones family had semi-permanently moved into Rowan Hill, Daphne's esteem for the Minister had grown exponentially. Her love and affection for the older woman had grown, as well.
Upon reflection, Minerva and her Grandmama had been very similar. Grandmama had always encouraged Daphne to be her own person. With love and affection (and quite a few butter biscuits), she'd pushed Daphne to strive to be better and never let anyone run you down. Minerva had encouraged, browbeat and horsewhipped Daphne to push herself beyond her current abilities. Both women had believed in her. Both were gone.
Looking up at Harry, she realized that he too pushed her. In his own way, that is. He loved her and fully believed that she was the best woman he'd ever known. He'd told her this on numerous occasions but it never seemed to sink in to her collective belief system. It surprised her every time.
She believed him when he told her that he found her beautiful. She believed him when he told her that he found her sexy. She believed him when he told her that he found her intelligent. But a moral, good person whom he admired? That was difficult for her. Maybe because she found him to be the best man she'd ever known.
In the end, she strove to be better because she didn't want to know what expression he wore if she let him down.
Why am I thinking about all this? Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the matter at hand. With more than a bit of foreboding, she walked into the Entry Hall as Harry held the door for all of them.
.oOo.
It was surreal and if the situation weren't so serious, Daphne would have laughed aloud. In the Hogwarts infirmary, all the beds were taken up by professors, with a few students and ex-students visiting them.
Biting back the nervous giggle that threatened to escape, she moved in the room and took a quick inventory of the occupants.
Dumbledore: asleep at the end of the aisle.
Flitwick: awake and sitting up in his bed, a book in his lap.
Sprout: awake and talking with three seventh years, her arm in a cast and a wicked scar already healing across her forehead.
Vector: asleep with a bandage about her head.
Babbling: asleep and missing her right arm.
And so it went.
She heard a deep sigh and turned to see Neville shaking his head. With an inquiring expression from Susan, he elaborated, "They're teachers. They shouldn't be fighting to defend the school. Yeah, it's a castle, but it's foremost a school." He shook his head in disgust as they made their way to Flitwick's side.
Their old charms master looked up at their approach and his face broke into a weary smile. Holding up his hands, he welcomed them, "Ah, it's good to see you all."
Daphne sniffled and nodded, sitting in a chair Harry conjured for her. All four sat and Harry asked, "What happened, Filius?"
The cheery man's face dropped and he frowned as he collected his thoughts. After a moment's consideration, he told the short tale.
"It was well after curfew and I was heading down to the kitchens for a spot of tea. I couldn't sleep and the brisk walk on top of the tea usually does the trick for me. I bumped into Albus who admitted to the same destination."
Rubbing his face he continued, "On the way back, there was a large 'boom' and the castle reverberated with the sound. Albus and I raced to the front doors, meeting Minerva and Pomona en route. He sealed all the dormitories and then summoned the rest of the staff to the Entry Hall."
"Just as we entered the Hall, the doors burst open and there was Voldemort and ten or so of his cronies. Albus immediately attacked the Dark Lord." Flitwick shook his head at the memory, "He was amazing."
Daphne's eyebrows shot up at that. From a man with Flitwick's ability in combat, the statement was high praise indeed.
Shaking his head, Flitwick continued in an emotion filled voice, "I was fighting two men, one of whom was Augustus Rookwood, while Minerva fought Lucius Malfoy. I had put down one when Minerva defeated Malfoy. We found out later that she transfigured his heart to stone. As she turned, Antonin Dolohov killed her with the Entrail Expelling curse."
Flitwick began to weep openly so Susan and Daphne moved to his side, comforting him the best they could. Over Flitwick's shoulder, Daphne saw Neville holding his head in his hands while Harry sat there, expressionless.
After a long minute or so, Flitwick regained his composure. Patting their arms, he thanked them, "Thank you girls. At that point, the Dark Lord began to cackle that mad laughter of his and stepped back from his duel with the Headmaster. Both of them were singed and smoking when Voldemort raised his hand and pointed to the professors that had been injured…or killed. He just pointed and laughed before he and his scum disappeared."
Flitwick sniffled and pulled out a handkerchief. The nervous giggle that had ebbed away from Daphne returned in full force. The handkerchief was normal size but on Flitwick's diminutive form, it was quite comic.
Biting her tongue, she patted the Charms Professor's leg and then said, "I know you and Minerva were great friends."
He nodded at her observation, "She was my best friend for over thirty years. I shall miss her greatly."
After a few more minutes of discussion, they four friends moved on when Flitwick began to yawn. Neville and Susan made a beeline for Sprout while Daphne and Harry were intercepted by the newly arrived Amelia Bones, Connie Hammer, as well as, Reginald and Victoria Abbott.
Harry related what Flitwick had told them and Amelia nodded, "That correlates to what the Aurors told me." She thought for a long moment before continuing, "We may have lost Minerva, but you do realize this was a victory."
With a sour face, Daphne nodded. Voldemort had been beaten, again. Four more Death Eaters were dead – including their primary source of funds, Lucius Malfoy. "The price was high."
"No higher than in Diagon Alley," observed Reginald.
Nodding her head in reluctant acceptance, Daphne agreed, "True."
"Amelia, he only had ten Death Eaters with him," Harry observed.
With a grim smile, the Minister nodded, "I know."
.oOo.
By the light of the moon, the Wolf loped through the trees. She stopped on the edge of a clearing, senses alert. The sounds of the forest were quiet, but the wind whipped through the bare trees, making a natural chorus of sounds.
Glancing around, The Wolf saw nothing out of the ordinary and continued her run. Bounding through the naked brush, she kept climbing. Snowden is quite tall; the highest point in the kingdom, but with her long strides, The Wolf ate up the distance.
Two hours later, she stood at the top of the mountain, her chest heaving in the aftermath of her exertion.
She had cried in the afternoon. Cried for the orphans and spouses left behind. Cried for her friends who were lost to the fight. Even cried for the stupid bastards that fought for Voldemort, their souls were lost to the pit and they didn't even know it.
She had cried for herself. She had lost her father, but was terrified of losing someone truly close to her. Her mother, Stori, Phillip, Susan, Neville or - her fur rippled at the thought – Harry.
Strangely, the idea of her dying didn't bother her too much. When the reaper came, it came. There was nothing she could do but prepare and train.
She let a long howl curl up and then down the mountainside. The denizens of the forest stopped their tasks for the evening, looking up to the mount. The mood of the forest became tense with emotion, she'd shed her feelings and was free of the depression. Feeling much better after her run, Daphne shifted back to her human form and apparated to Rowan Hill.
Shivering a bit, she walked into the master suite to find Harry sitting by the fire, reading. He'd stuck to the agreement they'd made and only studied eight hours a day. After a week or two, he'd privately thanked her for forcing him to slow down. "I was burning out, but too desperate to slow down."
She went to him and he put his book down on the small side table. As she knelt in front of him, her hands on his thighs, his expression shifted from warm welcome to quizzical amusement.
Before he could say anything, she stopped him with her words. With an air of gravity, she looked him in the eye and said, "I love you with all that I am. I want you to know that, in case one of us is killed in the fight to come. I willingly go into the fight with you and willingly place my life in danger. I do it because I love you, but most of all I do it because it's the right thing to do."
His expression softened as she spoke and at the end, his eyes filled with tears. Softly, she finished, "It's my choice." Filled with emotion, he nodded.
"I love you."
"And I love you. Take me to bed husband, let's celebrate our lives."
A/N
1. I own nothing.
2. Thanks to all reviewers, I appreciate any and all comments and thank you for taking the time to let me know your thoughts. I expect to have quite 'hot' comments after this chapter's posted.
3. A mostly emotional chapter, the only firefight took place off camera, as it were. I wanted to catch up the characters with the plot. The last few chapters were rolling along like a freight train and our heroes didn't have much time to adjust. That was this chapter was to do.
4. Recommendation for the chapter is Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time. A phenomenally written fic that has a very interesting twist on Harry going back in time to fix it all. I'm not one for fics with multiple pairings, but so far it hasn't gone down that road. Wonderful story, check it out.