8 September 2009
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Potions Classroom
"Mister Lupin!"
Teddy Lupin sighed. He had known that his first Potions class would be difficult, but even his godfather's stories had not prepared him for the reality. It had taken him only a few minutes to lose ten points for Hufflepuff - five for not answering a question correctly, and another five for talking back when he asked how to find the answer in the text.
"Yes, Professor?" he said, as he finished stirring his potion. The next step called for seven minutes on low heat, which would allow him to see what the Professor wanted now.
Apparently, completing the sequence of stirring motions was the wrong choice. The impatient woman would not be kept waiting.
"Five points from Hufflepuff for ignoring your Professor, Lupin!" The Professor snapped her hand toward a nearby table, where two other Hufflepuffs were searching the text frantically. "Your housemates have ruined their potion, somehow. Why didn't you help them?"
"Professor Greengrass, I…" Teddy began, but the Professor was not having it.
"I thought your house favored Loyalty, Mister Lupin, or perhaps they didn't teach you that just yet? You've been here a full week, after all." He could hear the disdain in her voice, and knew that he would be docked even more points, whatever answer he gave.
Remembering his father's warning, Teddy Lupin stayed silent.
"Well?" she demanded. "Aren't you going to answer me?"
"Professor Greengrass," Teddy began. "Any answer I give would be wrong, ma'am, and so I'd prefer to remain silent."
"Ten points from Hufflepuff," she replied, ice in her tone. Her blue eyes glared at him, daring him to speak up.
He stood still, his eyes on hers, doing his very best not to flinch under her hateful gaze. At the back of his mind, he wondered if this was what his godfather's first potions class had been like.
Without conscious effort, his eyes shifted color, taking on a deep green to match his godfather. The Professor's eyes widened at that, and Teddy could see the rage growing.
"Fifty points from Hufflepuff." She pointed angrily at the door. "Get out, before I throw you out."
Teddy did not wait for the Professor to change her mind. He turned back to his desk, whispered an apology to his partner as he grabbed his bag, and left. He flinched as he heard the door slam shut behind him.
Without thinking, his feet took him to the DADA classroom. As his luck had it, Professor Susan Bones had a free period just then, and was sitting at her desk writing.
If anyone could tell him what to do, it would be his Aunt Susan. The fact that she was also his Head of House didn't hurt, either.
oOoOoOoOo
That Friday, Daphne Greengrass breathed a sigh of relief as the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins walked out of her classroom. It was her fourth year teaching at Hogwarts, but for whatever reason this year had left her more exhausted than any year before.
With a wave of her wand, the leftover ingredients began floating into the supply cabinet. She walked over, making sure everything was in its place, before closing the glass doors and securing them. As she did so, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass.
Her robes were a dark grey, adorned only with various potions stains. The thick fabric was uncomfortable, but offered some minor protection in the event of a spill. She did not have to wear a protective apron, as she required the students to do. It left her with a slightly disheveled look, but she had long since stopped caring about that.
It was a far cry from the fine robes she had worn growing up.
Her skin was just as pale as it had been in her youth, which was fitting since she once more lived in the dungeons. Her once luxurious blonde hair had darkened slightly, probably due to potions fumes over the years. She kept it cut short, just above her shoulders, so that it would not get in the way during brewing.
She did not look like the heiress of an Ancient and Noble House. Fortunately, it had been a long time since that had mattered at all.
Indeed, most daughters of such a wealthy pureblooded family would never even dream of taking a job so far beneath them as that of a professor. It was the job of a pureblooded wife to meet with the other wives and share information, or 'gossip' as the husbands thought. They would raise the children, or supervise the elves that did so. They would whisper in their husbands ears, guiding them as best they could.
It was no wonder that the most sought after wives were Slytherin, through and through.
For House Greengrass, it had been the same way. Daphne's father, Lord Damian Greengrass, had sought to improve his house's standing by any means necessary. He was a true Slytherin, and a leader of the neutral factions within society. He bought low and sold high, he knew a good business deal when he saw it, and wasn't afraid of risk if it meant profit. He was always ready with a pleasant word and a handshake, because he knew that being friendly, or at least appearing that way, was good for business.
He would keep that pleasant smile on his face right up until he twisted the knife you hadn't seen him use. Damian Greengrass could be as ruthless as he was affable.
For most of her life, Daphne had thought of her father as the wisest man she knew. He exemplified cunning and ambition. She thought that right up until he made his one, great mistake.
She sighed, turning away from the dour woman she saw in the glass. Daphne knew that she couldn't change what had happened, that nothing she could do would restore her family's fortunes. Unfortunately, knowing that did little to make the memories less bitter.
As she turned, she saw a man standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. The robes he wore were a deep burgundy, clearly cut to allow freedom of movement, and made from what seemed to be a very expensive fabric. His Lord's ring was easily visible on his hand, with its many faceted stone catching even the dim light of the dungeons.
It's as if he is taunting me, she thought, as she took in the overt display of wealth.
His face conveyed…. nothing, actually. He seemed completely indifferent to her - at least until she reached his eyes. Those green eyes, filled with hate.
To this day, she had never spoken a word to the man - and yet he very obviously despised her.
"What the hell do you want?" she asked.
oOoOoOoOo
Harry Potter stood in the doorway, watching Daphne Greengrass as she put away the leftover potions ingredients. As he always did when he thought about her, he carefully kept his features as neutral as he could.
He had never hinted at their shared history. He had never expected to need to do so. Only Neville Longbottom knew the whole story - and that is how it would stay, if he had anything to say about it.
Of course he had known that she was the Potions Professor at Hogwarts - he sat on the board, and would never have missed her name when it came up. When she had been hired, Harry had been the only abstention, an oddity that drew no comment from the other members present. He had always declined to vote for or against candidates whose families had been sworn to the Dark Lord, as he did not want to even hint at bias, and Daphne Greengrass was no different in that regard.
He did remark on her lack of a mastery, if only to get it entered into the record. Augusta Longbottom noted that there were no Potions Masters or Mistresses who would take her on as an apprentice, and so she intended to earn her Mastery through research. It was a much harder road, but it was the only one available to her. It also had the virtue of being feasible for a young teacher.
Her first few years had gone well, by most accounts. She was not the Head of House for Slytherin, as Professor Snape had been during his tenure, so her focus could remain on her students. And, for the most part, those students seemed to do well under her tutelage. Scores on exams and OWLS seemed to improve steadily, and the number of students who stayed on to take their NEWTS in the subject rose as well.
This year, however, was different. Students from all houses reported that the Professor seemed distracted and irritable. She was prone to snap at the slightest provocation, and was liberal with the taking of points. Harry had checked the register, and seen that Hufflepuff had not been the only victim of Professor Greengrass' ire.
According to Susan, Teddy hadn't even been the only firstie kicked out of class that week. Two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw had also been sent out. The Gryffindors seemed to have done little more than botched their potion, for which they received a zero for the day and an admonishment from Professor Greengrass. The Ravenclaw, Bill and Fleur's daughter Victoire, had asked how they should fix their potions if they make a mistake. Ravenclaw had lost ten points for cheek, and she, too, was dismissed from the class.
Susan had remarked that Daphne seemed to be settling back into the 'Ice Queen' persona she had cultivated during her years as a student. Then, she had been aloof and unapproachable, carrying herself as if she were better than everyone else. In her mind, she had been, after all - she was the eldest daughter of a powerful family, with access to more wealth than she could ever need and more allies than she could name. She did not cater to those beneath her, it was their job to cater to her.
Harry shook his head, as he watched Daphne close the cabinet. If Professor Greengrass thought that she was above anybody, she had another thing coming.
He wasn't even particularly annoyed at her overall conduct, for none of it surprised him after all these years. Her performance reviews would force her to change her ways, or she would be out on her arse, for the Board would not tolerate a bully as a Professor, as it had done during Harry's years at the school.
He had told Neville that he would do nothing about her, for there had been no need to. He told his friend that he was over it. After the war, he had moved on with his life, and left the memories to the past.
But then, she had targeted Teddy Lupin.
Harry wondered if she knew who Teddy's godfather was. It had been kept out of the Prophet, but someone might have mentioned it. Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom had both been at the post-war ceremony, and the party that followed - and both taught at hogwarts. Could Greengrass have overheard one of them? It was not impossible.
It was bad enough if Teddy had just been unlucky enough to draw her eye. On the other hand, if she knew who the boy was to him? That just made it worse.
If, after all these years, she had again targeted his family, Harry knew that nothing would keep him from burying her.
oOoOoOoOo
"What the hell do you want?"
Harry's eyes narrowed at Daphne's harsh glare.
"I'd like to discuss my godson's conduct during Potions, Professor Greengrass," Harry responded, keeping his tone as professional as possible. "First impressions are important, as you well know, and I am concerned that his first potions class went so poorly."
Daphne huffed in annoyance. "I don't track such things, Potter," she said.
"Indeed," Harry replied. "Perhaps you'll recall an incident this past Tuesday? Involving Teddy Lupin, from Hufflepuff?"
Daphne had the grace to look surprised. "Lupin is your godson?"
"He is," Harry confirmed, nodding. "Teddy is also the Heir to my Houses, Professor."
She shook her head. "Figures."
"Is that why he was removed from your class, then? Because he is my godson?" Harry's voice had a slight edge to it, a hint of menace that the Heiress Greengrass would have noticed in a heartbeat. Alas, Professor Greengrass had not been that focused in years, and missed every sign telling her to back down.
"He was punished, Mister Potter, because he was disrespectful to the Professor. When that disrespect continued, I had no choice but to remove him." She spoke slowly, grinding out the words, as if she were lecturing a child.
"I see," Harry said. "And what did he say to insult you at the end?" Idly, Harry conjured a chair as he spoke, and seated himself in front of the Professor's desk. Crossing one leg over the other, he clasped his hands in his lap, and looked up at her.
"Point deductions are entirely within the purview of the Professor who witnesses the offence," she began, but Harry held up a hand to stop her.
"Miss Greengrass, you are again mistaken." He gave her a pleasant smile, one that did not reach his eyes. "If I am to properly admonish my godson, I need to know what to admonish him for. Now, again - what did he say?"
Daphne glared down at him. She could not say that she snapped at Teddy Lupin because his eyes changed to the same green as the eyes currently looking up at her. Those hateful, green eyes. The ones she saw in her nightmares.
With an angry sigh, Daphne placed her hands on the podium, leaning into it as if it were a shield protecting her from the anger of the Man-Who-Survived.
"Perhaps I overreacted," she said. Again, he cut her off before she could continue.
"I rather think so," he remarked. "That seems to be your thing, doesn't it?"
Daphne had had enough. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
Harry scowled at her. "I won't pretend to know what is going on in your personal life, Miss Greengrass, nor will I pretend to care. But what I do care about is that you're doing your job. And right now, you're failing at that."
She scoffed. "What would you know about it?"
Harry stood, his eyes fixed on hers. She did not notice the chair vanish as he did so.
"I know that Teddy Lupin is not the only student you've removed from your class in just the first week of term," he said, evenly. "Now, if it were just Teddy, then I'd know that you have a grudge against me personally, and I could deal with that." He tilted his head at her, considering. "But now, I learn that you didn't even know of his relationship to me. Which tells me that you kicked him out of class just to be a bitch."
"How dare you!" Daphne sputtered. Harry ignored her, and continued.
"I am oath bound to report anything I learn that could threaten the operation of the school to my esteemed colleagues on the Board of Governors." He glared harshly at her. "Do not think for a second that I won't tell them everything."
He was right, of course, she had been a bitch. It had been the tenth anniversary of the end of the war, this past March, and the date had been on her mind. Ten years since her father went one step too far, relying on what he learned from her own Slytherin cunning. Ten years since he died in agony, alongside the Dark Lord, weeping blood and screaming.
It began to dawn on her that Harry Potter could very easily destroy her career, almost before it began.
"How do I fix it?" she said, quietly. To a Slytherin, that meant what do I have to do to get you to not destroy me? She could only hope that the Gryffindor before her was smart enough to understand.
Harry threw back his head and laughed. "My dear Professor," he said with a sneer. "What on earth makes you think I want anything at all from you?"
"Why did you come down here, then?" Daphne was almost shouting in exasperation. "Did you just want to taunt me before destroying my life, is that it? Just because my father was marked, you think you don't have to respect me?"
"Respect?" Harry said, in surprise. "Greengrass, it has been a very, very long time since I respected you."
That brought Daphne up short. "Potter, we haven't spoken in years, probably longer." She didn't know when they had spoken at all, truth be told, nor did she care.
Her eyes narrowed as she thought back to their school days. "What did I do to offend you so?"
Harry chuckled at that. "What, you mean other than try to take my magic?"
Daphne gasped in shock. "How could you possibly know about that?"
A scoff. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that time heals wounds, Miss Greengrass." His green eyes drilled into her as he brought his voice low.
"I remember everything."
oOoOoOoOo
June 1997
Greengrass Manor
"Come in, my dear, come in."
Daphne Greengrass, fresh off the train following her sixth year, walked confidently into her father's study. His desk was covered in parchment of various types, from import documents for the family business to Wizengamot legislation. Lord Damian Greengrass was never idle, and it showed in the clutter that filled the study.
He claimed, correctly, that he could find any piece of parchment within a minute, without using his wand. As she watched him move documents from one pile to another, Daphne believed it.
Once she was seated, her father asked her about the school year, about her friends in Slytherin, and about the events of the past few weeks - the death of Albus Dumbledore and the attack on the school.
She gave her observations, as she had been taught, and kept her opinions out of the discussion. Her father nodded, as if her words confirmed his own information.
"And what of your betrothed?" he asked, eyes fixed on her own.
She scoffed. "Harry Potter has not approached me in any way, informal or formal, sir."
Her father nodded. He had expected that.
"Do you have any evidence that he even knows about the contract?"
She gave the only reply she could. "None."
Lord Greengrass frowned. "As the Heir Potter, his guardian should have shown him the contract, so that he could properly court you."
"There is some confusion as to who his guardian is, father," Daphne reported. "If it was the Headmaster, as many suspect, then teaching Potter about his place would be one task among many. Easily neglected."
Lord Greengrass nodded, prompting her to continue.
"If, on the other hand, Lord Black is his guardian, then he may know more. But Lord Black was only recently exonerated, and so would have had limited contact with his godson."
"This is true," her father agreed. "Are there any other possibilities, then?"
Daphne shook her head. "None that I can see."
"Very well, then. Let's assume, for the moment, that Potter knows about the contract. What has he done to fulfill his obligations?" Lord Greengrass leaned toward his desk, watching his daughter closely.
"Absolutely nothing," she replied, without hesitation. "We have not even spoken on matters of schoolwork in several years, let alone more personal matters. He dresses in a manner far below his station, and consorts with blood traitors and lesser families." She frowned, despite herself. "I have seen nothing that leads me to believe he even respects the title of Lord Potter."
Lord Greengrass nodded once again. He indicated the Daily Prophet sitting on his desk. "The Prophet seems to think that he is destined to face off against the Dark Lord, winner take all."
Daphne did not need to be prompted to give her analysis. "That is unfortunate for Mister Potter, father."
"Quite." Lord Greengrass leaned back, considering her words. "Soon, I plan to make a deal that will cement our family's standing for generations to come."
She nodded in turn. "I look forward to it."
"Good," he replied. His eyes went to a lengthy document on his desk, packed with dense paragraphs of legal phrasing and unbreakable, binding language. It was a complex contract, but the core of it was simple. It would be trivial, he knew, to turn that document to his family's advantage.
"We must be sure of our position," Lord Greengrass continued. He looked up at his daughter. "How do you think Potter would deal with the Dark Lord?"
Daphne considered everything she knew about Harry Potter, discounting rumors and theories. She relied on her instincts, her observations, and her knowledge of the boy. True, he was a boy close to a month away from coming of age, but nothing she had seen suggested that he was ready for adulthood.
"I know of three fights he has been involved in," she began. "In one, Draco Malfoy exposed him as a parselmouth, embarrassing him in front of the entire dueling club during second year. In the other, when the school was attacked last week, his first impulse was to secure the common rooms and hide."
"Not the most courageous of lions, is he?" Her father said.
"No, sir."
"And the third of these incidents?"
Daphne paused. "That would be the end of the third task of the Triwizard, father. By all accounts, he incapacitated Cedric Diggory in order to steal the victory, only to be captured and used in a ritual to resurrect the Dark Lord. Not exactly a triumph, sir."
"True," Lord Greengrass said. "So, my dear, in your mind - what chance does Potter have?"
Daphne met her father's eyes. "None at all."
oOoOoOoOo
"Have you ever wondered, Miss Greengrass, exactly why they called me the Man-Who-Survived?"
Daphne stared at Potter, unsure how to respond. He knew. He knew!
She had been the only survivor, for no one else who had been in that room had lived. Her mother hadn't even known why they had gone to Malfoy Manor that day.
So, how was it possible that he knew what they had done? How could he know that her father had tried to strip him of his magic, at the Dark Lord's order?
Harry again conjured a chair, and made himself comfortable. This time, he was clearly doing it just to get a rise out of her, and it almost worked. She simply watched him, angrily, as he told the tale.
"Think about that year, Miss Greengrass," he continued. "I couldn't even return to the school without being captured. The most I could do was wander the countryside, hoping to find some way to kill an unkillable Dark Lord." He smirked at her. "As far as anyone knew, I had no resources, no real allies, and no plan."
"You had Granger and one of the Weasleys," she said, quietly.
"No I didn't," he replied. "They stayed in Hogsmeade, running supplies into the castle and helping Neville Longbottom smuggle students out. I even helped a few times, under polyjuice, of course. Did no one notice? We were proud of that little bit of mischief."
"Do you know what we called a few missing mudbloods, Potter?" Daphne's voice was bitter, with her anger coming to the fore. "A good start."
Harry scoffed. "Funny, I recall saying something similar in late March."
Daphne's eyes flared in anger, and her left hand twitched toward her wand. She froze when she saw that Potter already had his wand out. She hadn't even noticed the movement.
"So," she snarled at him. "How did you survive, then? What did you do, exactly, to slay the Dark Lord and kill his chosen?"
Harry Potter grinned at her. For the first time, his amusement was genuine, and his eyes lit up at the thought of that day.
"Why, Miss Greengrass, I did nothing. Nothing at all."
Daphne's jaw dropped. "Horseshite," she spat. "You had to do something that day! My father died! They ALL died!" Her voice raised to a shout. "What did you DO?"
Harry shrugged. "That day? Let's see, it was a Friday, as I recall. Hmm. I probably fed my owl, made lunch, that sort of thing. I might have read a book." He smirked at her. "Nothing of consequence."
"Then how did you defeat the Dark Lord?" she demanded.
He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes boring into hers. For the rest of her life, Daphne Greengrass would remember his words, and they would cut her to the core of her being.
"I didn't defeat the Dark Lord, Greengrass. You did."
oOoOoOoOo
27 March 1998
Malfoy Manor
"Rise, Lord Greengrass."
When the Dark Lord said her father's name, he hissed. The sound gave Daphne chills. Thankfully, she would not have to remain for long.
The ballroom of Malfoy Manor was filled with masked figures in black robes. Her father, too, wore his black robe, but his mask was off. Today, he was here as Lord Greengrass, not as one of the Death Eaters.
Lord Greengrass had promised her that he would soon make a deal to protect their family. She had not known that he would side with the Dark Lord, or that he would even take the mark. It made sense, once she thought about it. If anything, her view of the war had only solidified over time.
Harry Potter had taken what little chance he had and squandered it. Momentum was on the side of the Dark Lord, and with it the initiative in the conflict. Potter was one wand, against the might of the oldest families.
No, it was clear that Lord Greengrass had chosen the winning side. Today's brief ceremony would ensure their place in the new order.
Daphne glanced to her left, and saw the younger Death Eaters standing at the rear of the gathering. Even masked, Draco Malfoy's blonde hair was unmistakable. Involuntarily, she shivered.
Today was also about avoiding Malfoy as a replacement betrothal. If this worked, the Dark Lord would lavish them with wealth, and she would have her choice of husband.
It was a good day.
The Dark Lord gestured, indicating her father.
"Lord Greengrass brings us a magnificent gift today, my friends." With a nod, the Dark Lord seated himself on his throne. "Please explain, Damian."
"Of course, sire." Lord Greengrass turned to the room, and held up a document. Daphne recognized it as the marriage contract, and smiled. Yes, today would be a good day indeed.
"House Greengrass has discovered a marriage contract between the oldest female of our line, and the oldest male of an old Pureblooded family. Unfortunately," he continued, shaking his head theatrically, "The house to which we are to be bound has fallen, of late. Their heir consorts with blood traitors and cowards, he besmirches everything that our society holds dear, and he plays at being a muggle."
A few in the audience gasped, and a few more chuckled at their reaction. The Dark Lord seemed to smirk at their display, which Daphne found unsettling.
"Did this boy court my daughter? Did he give her the proper gifts, as demanded by the contract? Did he even speak to her?" He held the parchment out to the crowd. "No! He never once took the slightest step toward fulfilling his duties."
"Shameful," mused the Dark Lord. "And what is the boy's name, Damian?"
Lord Greengrass smiled up at the Dark Lord. "Harry Potter, My Lord."
"Such a shock," Voldemort said, amused. "That the so-called chosen one would show such disrespect." His red eyes took in the room. "And what is to be done in the face of such an outrage?"
Daphne watched her father flip to the third page of the contract. "Under Section Seventeen, Paragraph Three, of the Greengrass and Potter contract, I claim grievance against House Potter. I charge that the Heir Potter, having known, or having been reasonably expected to know, of the terms of the contract, has willfully and maliciously caused it to be unfulfilled, thus harming House Greengrass and in particular the Heiress Greengrass."
The parchment glowed as he spoke, as it prepared to enact the chosen penalty.
Lord Greengrass paused, a smile playing across his features. He turned to the dais, and looked at the Dark Lord.
"My Lord, what punishment do you believe fits this most heinous crime?"
The Dark Lord grinned sadistically. Daphne imagined that this was the look of a man about to torture someone. And, perhaps, he was.
"Nothing less than his magic, I think," said the Dark Lord. "Yesssss, I think that will do nicely."
Lord Greengrass nodded. "As is my right as Lord of House Greengrass, under Section Twenty-Nine, Paragraph Eight, I claim the magic of the Heir Potter as recompense for his egregious conduct." He raised his wand and spoke the required words.
"Praedatum, Praedatum, Praedatum. Let the injured be made whole!"
Lord Voldemort nodded firmly, as he felt the magic of the invocation. The contract was old magic, and powerful. Wherever Potter was hiding, he would find his magic gone. The foolish boy had basically handed him the war on a silver platter!
Daphne watched as the robed figures cheered the end of an Ancient and Noble House. Voldemort actually leaned forward and congratulated her father on such a masterful stroke. Lord Greengrass bowed deeply, accepting the praise - and, with it, the elevation of his status among the chosen.
It started slowly, like an itch. The Dark Lord seemed to shiver slightly. It was a subtle movement, mostly unnoticed, but the expression on the Dark Lord's face was one of confusion. Then he shook again, this time like a mild tremor.
"My Lord?" Her father, being a relatively new member of the chosen, did not know what to do.
Voldemort staggered back into his throne, as the shaking became more intense. It felt as if he had broken into a cold sweat, and he swiped his off hand across his forehead without thinking. When he looked down, he saw blood.
That was when the screams began.
oOoOoOoOo
"You dare think that I did that?" Daphne was incredulous.
"Oh, I doubt it was easy for you," Harry replied. "Not nearly as easy as you thought it would be to take my magic away, at any rate."
"Do you have any idea what I saw that day?" She hissed at him, tears threatening to fall. "I was the only one not marked in that room. Do you know what that means?"
Harry nodded, his expression cold. "It took Voldemort exactly fifteen seconds to realize what had happened. Seven seconds after that, he cast his last spell." He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. He had waited a long time to tell this story, but he still fought to keep his voice even. It was a clinical tone, more like a field report than a gruesome tale of blood and gore.
He knew that that approach would hurt her more. He found that he just didn't care.
"The spell he cast would replace the magic he was losing with the magic he drew from his followers, via the runework of the Dark Mark. It was at this point that Voldemort began to die."
Daphne shook her head. "He was immortal, you even said so."
"I did," Harry agreed. "But what do you need to make use of a magical object that keeps you from dying?"
Daphne gasped. He should not have been surprised, for she had witnessed the event. She had simply never put the pieces together until now, however.
"Exactly. His body was a magical construct, not even a truly living form. So when he lost his magic, it broke down. Desperate, he did the only thing he could - he took the magic of his followers." Harry's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And wherever they were, whatever they were doing, at seventeen minutes past six in the evening on that day, every single witch and wizard with the Dark Mark died, their magic drawn out of them, their lives following close behind."
Daphne shuddered, remembering the screams. The choking, gurgling noise her father made as he died in her arms.
"How could you know all of that?" she said, her shaking voice barely above a whisper. Her hands gripped tightly on the wood of her podium, clinging to it for dear life.
"One of the former Malfoy elves was in the room," Harry replied. "Dobby's memories were fascinating viewing, once I could get him to calm down."
"It must have been hard for him to watch," she muttered.
Harry snorted at that. "Oh, no, Miss Greengrass. Dobby hated those bastards. It was all I could do to get him to stop celebrating long enough to report in."
Daphne wanted to shout at him for letting a house elf, of all things, celebrate her father's death. But she had no energy for that, now. The scope of what had happened was beginning to settle upon her, and she could hardly believe it.
In truth, Potter was right. In one stroke, her family had eliminated the Dark Lord and his followers, and thus ended the war. Her blue eyes focused on his, and she frowned.
"Why was it, then, that you were given an Order of Merlin?"
Harry shook his head. "Ah ah, Miss Greengrass. I was offered an Order of Merlin. I declined it. In their greed, the forces of the Dark Lord clearly played with power they knew not, and suffered for it. All I had to do was survive. I needed no medal to show for it."
"The Man-Who-Survived," she said.
"Yes." Harry sighed, and stood once more. "It's a damn sight better than Boy-Who-Lived or Man-Who-Fled, I should think."
Daphne made no reply.
"Well then." Absently, Harry vanished the chair he had been sitting in. It seemed that he was intent on showing off his magic, to hammer the point home to her - despite their efforts, here he stood, magic and all.
Daphne held her annoyance in check as she watched him carefully. "What now, Potter?"
Harry sighed. "I was content to let you live your life, Greengrass. I considered myself lucky that I'd never have to interact with you in any way, shape, or form, and I would have happily let that state of affairs continue forever." His green eyes locked on hers, and she took an involuntary step back. His gaze had grown in intensity, and she was frightened for the first time since his arrival.
"Now, however," he continued. "You've hurt someone I care about. It doesn't matter that you didn't know of his connection to me. What matters is that you hurt Teddy Lupin, and you will probably do so again, if given the chance." His eyes narrowed. "That cannot stand."
"I'm no worse than Snape was," she spat, angrily.
"Professor Snape, Miss Greengrass," he corrected, smirking. "Who do you think is going to take over your classes after you resign?"
"What?"
"Severus Snape was oath bound to protect my life, Miss Greengrass," Harry said, evenly. "I knew it from the beginning, and after that first class I made sure that he knew that I knew. After that, we never had a problem. Anything he did against me was theater, to keep up appearances." He gestured toward her. "It seems to have worked. We even fooled the Dark Lord."
Daphne shook her head, amazed at yet another revelation.
"No, Miss Greengrass," Harry continued. "Second chances are earned, not given. You have to work, spending decades toiling and sweating, to even begin to have a hope of one. And when fate gives you your chance, you grab it with both hands and never let go." His eyes got a faraway look as he spoke, making her think that he wasn't just talking about her.
"Snape earned his. I sure as hell earned mine. Whereas you, well..." He seemed as if he were about to say something more, but then he shook his head, giving her a look of distaste.
With that, Harry Potter turned and walked toward the exit. He was dismissing her.
"Potter," She half shouted at his retreating form.
Harry paused in the doorway, looking back at her over his shoulder.
Daphne sighed. With a shaking voice, she said the only words she could.
"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
Harry smiled back at her. "No, you're not." And then he was gone.
oOoOoOoOo
Neville Longbottom, Master of Herbology and Head of Gryffindor House, was shocked that Harry Potter had actually come up to the castle. Then he learned who his friend was meeting.
Then he got two beers out of the cooler, and sat down to wait.
He did not have to wait long. Within minutes of arriving at his quarters, his friend was knocking on the door.
"Come in!" Neville shouted.
Harry walked in and moved directly to the love seat on one side of the sitting area. He sat down heavily, letting out an exhausted sigh.
"Hard day's work, mate?" Neville asked with a grin.
Harry looked over at Neville, and grinned right back.
"Damn, that was fun," he said.
Neville nodded, and raised his beer in a toast. "I know you've been waiting for that conversation for years, now. I'm glad it was worth it."
Harry raised his own beer in return. "Decades, actually."
At the hint of that topic, Neville raised his wand and cast several charms. Silencing charms, privacy charms, and three different locks on the door. The lone portrait nodded in approval, which surprised no one - old Augusta Longbottom had always liked Neville's friend Harry.
Her help had been as invaluable as Neville's, over the years. Augusta had been the only adult who knew even part of the truth, and had never once betrayed Harry's trust. He would be forever grateful for that.
"Be honest, Harry," Neville said gently. "How long did you have that speech ready?"
Harry looked thoughtful. "Most of it, probably about a year before I came back."
A nod. "Yeah, that's what I figured."
"You should have seen some of my journals, Nev," Harry replied. "I had one where I wrote out all the ways I wanted to kill Daphne Greengrass. And that was when I didn't have magic."
"Shit," Neville said, with a mock shudder. "Remind me never to piss you off."
"It wasn't even that she hated me," Harry continued. "She never bothered to learn anything about me that might contradict what she thought she knew. She saw what she wanted to see, just like most of them."
"That must have made it harder to keep things going the way you needed them to go," Neville realized.
"Yep," Harry agreed. "You remember how hard those first few years were for me. Keeping up the appearances I needed to present, while at the same time changing what I could around the edges. And all the time having to share space with…. that woman."
"Oh, I remember," Neville said, quietly. "I also remember covering for you when she was anywhere nearby."
Harry shrugged, sheepishly. "I couldn't risk it, Nev, you know that."
"I know, mate. You knew exactly when and how they would strike, which meant you had to fit perfectly into your role." Neville shook his head. "Even that day, when you knew that they would be trying to claim your magic, you were calm as could be."
"Outside, yeah. But inside, I was a wreck."
"Oh, I knew," Neville replied. "But it was my job, as supportive best mate and partner in crime, to ignore it as long as possible."
"And for that, I thank you, Nevile Longbottom." Harry reached over, offering his hand. Neville took it, grasping his friend with a firm grip.
"None of this would have worked without you and your family, Neville. I mean that," Harry said. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."
Neville nodded, solemnly. "The way I figure it, Harry, you went through hell and still fought for us. You literally saved us all. It should be me thanking you."
Then, Neville smirked. "You never did come up with those investments I asked for, though."
Harry grinned. "Are you sure?" Off Neville's look, Harry chuckled. "Nev, do you realize how hard it is for a ten year old kid to convince someone else's account manager to invest funds in companies that might do well over the coming decades?"
Neville's eyes grew wide. "You didn't."
Harry laughed, and raised his beer again. "Here's to time travel. Thank Merlin I don't need to do this shit a third time!"
oOoOoOoOo
27 March 1998
Forest of Dean
(First Timeline)
Without warning, Harry Potter had fallen to the ground, screaming.
It was sunset, and Harry had been fixing a simple meal with whatever food the three Gryffindors had managed to scrounge together. Ron had been near the entrance to the tent, being as vigilant as he could despite his overwhelming fatigue.
Hermione, as always, had been looking for answers. Answers that were not forthcoming, despite her ongoing research.
Harry's scream of pain had drawn both of them to his side. Ron tried to hold the thrashing teen down, while Hermione cast diagnostic after diagnostic.
Two minutes later, Harry stilled. He was alive, and clearly uncomfortable, but whatever had seized him had ended.
Ron saw Hermione's face turn pale as she read the parchment conjured by her diagnostic. Then she threw it to the side, and started casting again.
"'Mione?" he asked quietly.
"It's not… it can't be, Ron."
"What happened? What's wrong with Harry?"
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "It's his magic, Ron. It's gone."
Ron scoffed. "What d'you mean, it's gone. Magic doesn't just go."
"I know," she said. "But his did."
Ron looked down at the still form of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. "So he's…"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed.
"He's a squib."
oOoOoOoOo
13 August 2027
RAF Spadeadam
Cumbria, England, UK
(First Timeline)
Daphne Greengrass was afraid.
She had been taken, captured in the middle of Diagon Alley. She hadn't even seen her attackers, just felt a blow to the head and then nothing.
When she woke, she was sitting in a steel chair, her hands chained to a metal table in an empty room. A black dome of glass sat in the corner of the ceiling, and she could barely make out a red dot of light within.
The glaring lamp above her, the cold feeling of the place - it screamed muggle.
Diagon Alley had been one of the last safe places for her kind, after the latest round of attacks. Not safe enough, it seemed.
The metal door swung open, and two men in blue uniforms walked in. They carried muggle weapons, though they did not aim them at her.
Daphne focused her glare at the men, who seemed unbothered by her ire. She did not notice the third man standing in the doorway, until he spoke.
"You really should have just killed me, Greengrass."
She turned to the man, and her eyes grew wide when she saw him. The black hair and green eyes were unchanged by time, though she was surprised by the salt and pepper beard on his face. He wore muggle clothes, a uniform much like the other men in the room. But his identity was as unmistakable as it was ludicrous.
But it was him. It had to be.
"Potter?" she said in surprise.
"The one and only," he replied, coldly.
She shook her head. "You can't believe I'll help you."
He chuckled at that. "You can't believe that I care. You see, Miss Greengrass, squibs can brew veritaserum just as well as you can." He set a clear vial on the table, well out of her reach.
She paled at the realization. "It's you. You're the one hunting magicals." Her eyes darted to the muggles. "You're helping the muggles? You're destroying everything!"
"Not everything," Harry replied. "We're not hunting magicals, just terrorists. It's slow work, I'll grant you that, but worth doing."
"I won't be a part of this."
"Well, now, Miss Greengrass, that's where you're wrong." He sat down across from her. "You're already neck deep in this thing. Now you're going to pay for your mistakes."
"How will I do that, Potter?" She spat, angrily.
He pulled a sheaf of parchment from his pocket. Smoothing it, he laid the document on the table. It was a copy of the Greengrass Potter marriage contract.
Harry tapped the contract with his finger. "You're going to tell me how to win the war."
"What can a squib do against the Dark Lord?" She scoffed at the very thought that Potter was still a threat. She didn't think about the fact that he had captured her easily enough.
"Squibs can do two major types of magic, even in their 'condition'," Harry said, bitterly. "Potions are one example," and here he indicated the veritaserum. "Rituals are the other."
She finally realized what he meant. "No, it's not possible," she whispered.
Harry nodded. "I've earned my second chance, Miss Greengrass." He sneered at her, a cold expression of hatred filling his eyes.
"And now, you're going to earn yours."
A/N: With the exception of stories like the classic Marriage in Mind by Lady Azar de Tameran here on FFN, I'd say that the majority of Marriage contract stories with Harry and Daphne end up with them falling in love and having babies ever after. As much as I love me some Daphne Greengrass, I enjoyed subverting that here.
I could have gone on for pages about the mechanics of the plan, but the gist of it is this: The contract in the second timeline can tell that Lord Greengrass already stripped Harry of his magic (even if it was in the first timeline, before he traveled back to 1990 or so). When Lord Greengrass tries it again, the contract views it as an attempt to interfere with Harry's ability to hold up his end. Thus, the penalty goes to Lord Greengrass - or, rather, to his liege lord, Voldemort, who actually ordered the penalty. The contract blindsided Harry the first time around, but when he learned how it interacted with the time travel he was considering, he knew it could be used as a weapon.
"But Oleg, he avoided Daphne - didn't that break the contract too?" He did know about the contract, that time around, of course - but then, that's why he avoided Daphne. He didn't want to risk any chance of there being any interaction at all that might possibly be considered courting under the (lengthy!) terms of the contract. His nightmare scenario was that he might actually be forced to wed Daphne - or worse, to be wed to her and lose his magic anyway.
He probably blames Daphne much more than he should, but no one had injured him so directly and personally as she did by causing his magic to be stripped. That it was her indifference that ultimately drove her father's decision just made it worse.
As you likely figured out, Tortious Interference is the legal term that applies when someone interferes with a contract. You've got to admit, both parties did that, repeatedly.
Special thanks to Grimjaw, who came up with much of the backbone of this story, and traded ideas back and forth as I wrote it out and fleshed out the details.
Stay safe out there. Feedback, as always, is welcome.