I have to say I'm positively surprised by how well the first chapter has been accepted by you. I mean, 3000 views, 315 follows, and 165 favorites? That's wild! Not to mention 22 reviews… Thank you guys so much. Also, something I've forgotten to mention in the last chapter: I DO NOT intend to make Harry some godlike wizard. I've read a few 'super-powerful-Harry' stories, and while fun and easy to read, they're not that satisfying. What I mean is, 'my' Harry will progress throughout the story, but let's not forget that he is still a teenager (currently 14). I know it's something easy to miss, especially in the movies. And if you think Daphne is a little bitchy towards Harry, you're right XD. But it will also be explained during the story as I intend to portray the development of her character. Great thanks to 'MisguidedPenguin' for pointing out the mistake I've made in the prologue. I've already corrected it, and if you find any more of such mistakes that come out due to my lack of knowledge about the HP franchise, feel free to point it out. I promise that I'll do my best to keep them to the minimum but some things I might just miss. And the last thing, a word of warning: I do not yet know how this story will go, but I can already assure you that I won't be aiming for the 'x-years-later' ending. I think it's been done enough in the fanfics, and I want to do something different, original. Not to mention that I don't especially like those 100% happy endings. I prefer the bittersweet ones. But I don't yet know what it will be in this story XD.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 1
Harry felt the glares on his back as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast. It was the same scenario as during his second year when the Chamber of Secret has been opened, and everyone believed that he was responsible for doing that. Even though all he wanted to do was protect Justin Finch-Fletchley, others were quick to believe that he was ordering the snake to attack the Hufflepuff. But those two years earlier, he, at least, still had his two closest friends at his side. Harry kept his head low, looking at his feet, as he approached the Gryffindor table, taking a seat in the corner that was relatively empty. He corrected his glasses nervously as they threatened to slide down his nose. Harry risked glancing to the side, directing his gaze at the large group of people that were sitting at the same table as he.
His dormmates were sitting there, whispering to one another, glancing at him from time to time. Harry noticed Ron clenching his teeth as his former best mate looked at him, while Dean and Seamus were scowling at him every now and then. Neville smiled at him nervously when their gazes met though he quickly turned his head away from him, finding something incredibly interesting on his plate. The girls from his year, with Hermione in the lead, didn't even bother to look at him. Rolling his eyes, Harry decided to do the same and started paying attention to his portion of cereals that was waiting for him.
He didn't look up when the Great Hall was filled with the hooting sounds of the owls. The morning mail was nothing unusual; in fact, Harry couldn't remember a day at Hogwarts that would pass by without even at least one owl delivering something to a student. What surprised him, however, was a brown bird landing right in front of him, almost on his plate. Judging by the state of its feathers, Harry guessed that no one was bothering themselves with keeping the owl well-groomed.
A small, folded piece of parchment was attached to the bird's left leg, and Harry untied the strings eagerly. His mind was filled with hopes that perhaps Professor Lupin has finally decided to answer his previous letters. But if that was the case, then why didn't he send Hedwig? After a few seconds of holding the small piece of parchment in his hands, attempting to solve that riddle, the realization hit him. Harry's heart leaped into his throat as he thought about the possibility of receiving a message from Sirius. Without wasting any more time, he quickly broke the wax seal and unfolded the piece of parchment.
Harry, we need to talk face-to-face. Meet me by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room this Saturday at one o'clock in the morning. Padfoot.
P.S. Destroy this letter after reading it.
Harry scanned the contents of the short letter for a few more minutes, reading the message over and over again. He had to admit that he was disappointed by how short the letter was, but he also knew that Sirius couldn't risk writing anything longer. Harry had heard that the Ministry was snatching owls randomly; the attack during the Quidditch World Cup has set everyone on edge. And if Sirius's letter was intercepted, Harry's godfather would be in danger.
The young wizard scanned the three lines once again, attempting to find anything that could have escaped his attention. But there was nothing more to read there. Hesitantly, Harry ripped the letter apart, doing his best to divide it into the smallest pieces available. Content with his work, he collected the destroyed piece of parchment and put it in the pocket of his robe, making a mental note to dispose of it as soon as he had the chance. His mind was processing the piece of information he received from Sirius about talking face-to-face. Harry tried to come up with an idea on how that was going to be possible, though he failed at doing so. He wondered if his godfather was going to use the Floo Network to appear in the Gryffindor common room; the fact that he wanted Harry to wait for him near the fireplace was a good indicator that this was the case. However, the fireplace in the Gryffindor Tower was too small for anyone to fit through it. Besides, Harry doubted that it would be that easy to enter Hogwarts unnoticed.
He decided to wonder on that later as he lifted his head to scan the Great Hall with his eyes. Fortunately for him, no one seemed to notice that he had received something. Harry let out a small sigh of relief; he really didn't want to be forced to explain who has sent him a letter, or who Padfoot was. I praise myself for my extensive knowledge and above-average perception skills, Daphne's words from the evening before suddenly echoed in his mind, causing him to direct his gaze to the Slytherin table.
The blonde Ice Queen was watching him intensively from across the distance that separated them, though he had to admit that she did a remarkable job at pretending that she was only staring at a random spot on the wall above Harry's head. If he hadn't spoken to her the previous night, Harry would be sure that she actually wasn't looking at him. Daphne was playing with her cup casually, stirring whatever it was that she was drinking. The left corner of her lips was raised in an ever-present smirk. Harry couldn't help but wonder if she kept that expression even while she was sleeping as he tried to recall all the times he had seen her in classes or in the corridors. As far as he could recall, her smirk was always there. He had no doubts that Daphne didn't remain oblivious of the owl delivering him a message. He shrugged, directing his attention back to his plate, returning to his small breakfast.
After finishing the meal, Harry glanced around the Great Hall one more time, this time directing his gaze to the Ravenclaw table. His eyes scanned the length of the wooden slab, searching for Cho Chang. He found her after a few seconds; she was sitting with her friends, chatting about something. Harry allowed his gaze to linger a few moments on the pretty seeker, though it quickly turned out to be a mistake. After a while, one of Cho's friends noticed that Harry was staring at the Asian girl and alerted her. The Ravenclaw seeker turned her head around and found the young wizard with her eyes. Harry smiled awkwardly at her; the only response he received was a scowl and a raised eyebrow, instead of a beautiful smile that she awarded him with during the train ride to Hogwarts when he saw her accidentally.
Harry pressed his lips tightly together and stood up from the Gryffindor table, collecting the books for his first class of the day. Potions were not the best way to start the day, especially because they shared that class with Slytherin. Unfortunately for him, Snape's lessons were obligatory, and Harry had nothing to say when it came to arranging classes. With a heavy sigh, he left the Great Hall and headed towards the dungeons.
The walk was uneventful, except for Malfoy's snide remark on how Harry made his way into the Tournament. The young wizard only rolled his eyes, not giving the other boy the satisfaction of entering the clash with him. Harry only rolled his eyes, deciding that it would be best to ignore the remark; he knew all too well that refusing to argue with Draco was going to anger him more than replying to his comment. Before the Slytherin could say anything else, the door to the class was opened by Professor Snape who urged the students inside.
"Before you get yourselves comfortable, I have an announcement to make," the greasy-haired Professor said as he stood in front of his desk. His arms were crossed on his chest as he looked down at his students. Neither his voice nor his face betrayed any emotions – his facial expression was an impenetrable mask that Harry has grown used to over the past three years. "The Headmaster has decided that due to the Tournament being held in our school, we have to learn to… cooperate with each other," Snape said, looking at the faces of the gathered fourth years. Harry was the last one he looked at, and a scowl appeared on his face. "Because of that, for the next few weeks, you shall be working on an assignment in pairs. And it pains me immensely to inform you that it was the Headmaster's wish to make the pairs mixed. What it means is that every pair will be composed of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor," Snape explained, almost spitting the last word as if it burned his tongue.
His words were met with a unity that, under different circumstances, would be impossible to achieve. The students of both houses groaned heavily in disapproval, muttering insults at the members of the other house.
"Quiet," Snape hissed through gritted teeth. Even though his words were only slightly louder than a whisper, they had the desired effect. It took only a few seconds for the students to calm down as they realized that they had nothing to say in that matter. "Now, you will be assigned in pairs randomly. When I read your names, step forward, and I will give you the tasks you will be working on," he declared, walking around his desk. He sat down on his chair and began calling students to himself.
Harry wasn't listening that much as the other students were being assigned, although he couldn't help but smirk when he heard that Ron was supposed to work with Malfoy. A week earlier, he would feel sorry for his former best mate. But things have changed drastically over the past few days, and Harry couldn't find the slightest hint of sympathy towards the youngest Weasley brother at that moment.
With the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed that Hermione ended up paired with Crabbe. Once again, he couldn't help but smirk; even though the groups were supposed to be assigned randomly, he had no doubts that Snape made sure that the Slytherin would be paired with one of the most, if not the most, brilliant Gryffindor in their year. It wasn't a mystery that the Potions Master didn't like Hermione, but even he couldn't deny that she was extremely talented. Or, at the very least, was efficient in learning. And so, Harry kept sitting at the desk in the back of the class, waiting to be assigned himself. He somehow knew that Professor Snape would call him the last one.
"Potter," the Potions Master called out, causing the young wizard to stand up from his desk. He walked slowly towards Professor Snape, waiting for a comment he was sure he would hear. "Our rising star – the fourth Tournament Champion," he said, glaring at Harry while he was approaching him. The young wizard huffed quietly. There it is, he mused to himself, somewhat satisfied that at least this one constant in his life hadn't changed at all. "Try not to get yourself killed during the Tournament, Mr. Potter. I'm looking forward to seeing how well you'll manage with this assignment."
"I'm doing my best each year since I've got here to stay alive, Professor," Harry muttered back, accepting the piece of parchment with the assignment written on it. Snape snorted quietly, casting at him daggers with his eyes. Yes, at least this didn't change, Harry said in his mind, doing his best not to smirk.
"Greengrass," Snape said, announcing who Harry was supposed to be paired up with. The young wizard nearly stumbled backward upon hearing the name. He turned around to watch as the blonde Slytherin rose from her seat and approached the Professor's desk. Just as the day before and during the breakfast, the left corner of her lips was slightly raised. What are the actual chances of that happening? Harry asked himself, staring at the girl as she was walking towards the desk. If she was surprised at all to be paired up with him, nothing in her movements nor in her facial expression betrayed that. "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Greengrass, that you have to work with Potter," Snape said, handing her the second copy of their assignment. "If that provides you any comfort, I can assure you that I will take into account your… partner's skills and knowledge while grading your work."
"Thank you, Professor," Daphne replied, accepting the copy of their assignment. "But I believe we'll manage just fine," she added, directing her gaze away from the piece of parchment to look her Head of the House in the eyes.
"Undoubtedly," Snape commented before ordering them to leave his desk and take place at one of the tables. However, Harry was sure that Professor's words meant that Daphne would manage just fine, not him. "Each pair has been given a unique assignment," the Potions Master announced, standing up once again; he scanned the crowd with his dark eyes. "And you shall be working on it for the next few weeks. The parchments you've been given contain a short description of the potion's properties. It is your task to deduce what potion you've been assigned, find the correct recipe, and brew it. With that, I expect to receive from each and every one of you a written explanation of why you believe that the potion you have chosen matches the one on your assignments, a detailed description of all ingredients, and all possible consequences of brewing the potion incorrectly. Three rolls of parchment per person are the absolute minimum," Snape added, earning himself a collective groan of disapproval from almost every student gathered in the class. "Quiet," the Professor hissed, casting daggers with his eyes at those who voiced their opinion, although his facial expression remained unchanged as always. "This task covers all the potions you have come to know for the past three years, so I expect everyone to handle this assignment without much of a struggle. You have time until the last class before the Christmas break to hand it over. Otherwise, you will not get any credit for this assignment, and I'm afraid it will result in a necessity to repeat this term because the grade for this task will be the half of your final grade," Snape continued, once again receiving groans of disapproval from the students, mostly Gryffindors. "When you think you've identified the potion correctly, you are to come to me. I shall evaluate if your assumption is correct, and then you will, or will not, receive permission to start brewing your potion. Brewing can be performed in this room and this room only, so I would recommend you all to work on this assignment not only during the class, because, most likely, you won't be able to complete it in time. Also, if someone doesn't meet the minimum requirement of three rolls of parchment then their work will not qualify for a satisfactory grade. You may begin," Snape announced. No one needed to be told twice as every student perfectly understood that the Professor's words 'You may begin' translated into 'You will regret it if I catch you doing anything not related to the lesson's topic.'
"Potter," Daphne acknowledged him as Snape finished speaking and the students began working on their respective assignments. Harry raised his head slightly, directing his gaze away from the piece of parchment and onto the face of the Slytherin girl. Her expression, as always, was a slightly smirking mask that refused to betray a single thing that was going on behind her eyes.
"Greengrass," he replied, doing his best to mimic her emotionless tone as he looked back at the piece of parchment in his hand, scanning the neatly written lines of text.
When brewed correctly, this potion should have turned a dark purple color, and wouldn't have had any serious consequences on those who drink it. It's a weaker version of a more known potion, commonly used by the Healers in St. Mungo to aid their patients, although it's one of the two similar potions used by the Healers. It can also be found in the homes of elderly people, used to help them with their health issues.
"You've received a letter today," Daphne more stated than asked. Harry raised his head once again after reading the text. The Slytherin girl next to him didn't as much as look in his general direction; her eyes were glued to her own piece of parchment, even though it didn't contain anything more than the one Harry received.
"Yes," he replied, looking back at the parchment in his hand as if he wanted to see if it contained something else. After all, three sentences to identify a potion is not a lot of information. He turned it around, though the second side was blank.
"Who wrote to you?" she asked. Once again, Harry turned his head to look at her, not believing what he heard.
"Why should I tell you?" Harry replied with a question of his own; absentmindedly, he put his left hand in the pocket of his robe where he hid the destroyed letter from Sirius. He let out a silent sigh of relief after feeling that the torn parchment was still there, waiting for Harry to get rid of it. I have to burn it down, he made a mental note.
"Because we're friends?" Daphne suggested as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harry stifled a chuckle that forced its way out of his lips. He learned long ago that displaying any positive emotions during Snape's lessons was not welcomed, especially if it came from him. For a brief second, Harry wondered if humans were capable of turning into the Dementors after death. He was willing to bet all his money that the Potions Master would become one after his demise if that was the case. I guess he would haunt me even more, he commented in his mind.
"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "If talking to someone for a dozen or so minutes would mean they are my friends, then I would be friends with the majority of Hogwarts, with Malfoy in the lead," Harry countered, making sure to keep his voice low.
"Touché, Potter," Daphne replied, flipping through the pages of the Potions' textbook. "Still, I would like to know that. If I'm not mistaken, it has to be the first time you've received a letter from anyone."
It was from an escaped convict who, supposedly, wanted to kill me. "It wasn't the first time," Harry replied, mimicking her actions and opening his own textbook. "I've received a letter also during our first year."
"Must have slipped away from my mind," Daphne commented. "The point is, it is a rare sight – an owl landing in front of you."
"If you must know, it was from someone from my family," Harry said, glancing sideways to see what he should be looking for in the textbook. With the corner of his eye, he noticed Daphne raising one of her eyebrows.
"I didn't know you have a family," she commented. That's because he spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he hadn't done, Harry replied in his mind, though not a single word escaped from his lips. For a few seconds he wondered what his life would look like if thirteen years earlier Sirius wouldn't try to hunt down Pettigrew, and, instead, took Harry with himself to raise him. I would surely know much more about my parents, he deduced after a while.
"It's a distant family," he replied. "I haven't known about their existence for a dozen or so years, to be honest," Harry added.
"Do you know what we are even supposed to be looking for?" Daphne asked, suddenly changing the topic. She was looking at his textbook with one of her eyebrows raised.
"Well, three sentences is not much to deduce what potion we must brew," Harry answered in self-defense, scratching the back of his head. "It wouldn't harm Snape if he gave a few more hints," he added.
"If he wrote anything more, then recognizing the potion would be a child's play," Daphne countered. "I already have a few positions in mind, but I'll have to make sure after the class is over. What time do you finish today?" she asked him.
"Just before lunch, why?"
"You've heard Professor Snape: working on this assignment only during classes will result in not having enough time to complete it fully. I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to sacrifice my grades simply because I have to work with someone from another house," she explained, not once removing her gaze from her own textbook. "Which is why I would like you to join me in the library after lunch. I believe it should also be in your best interest to work on this assignment as quickly as possible. After all, the first task is only three weeks away from now. So, the sooner we start, the better," Daphne said, finally raising her eyes to look at him. The left corner of her lips was still raised no more than a few millimeters. "That is, of course, if you don't want to repeat this term. Also, don't think that I will do all the hard work for you. I might help you with the essay about this potion, but you won't be able to copy it, I assure you," she added.
"After lunch, huh?" Harry asked, contemplating the offer. He could clearly see the reason behind her words. And he had to admit that the prospect of spending time with someone, even from Slytherin, was a much better alternative than being ignored by most of the Gryffindors in their dormitory. The Twins would, most likely, be busy with planning another prank on someone. Harry was sure that this someone would be from the Slytherin house. He smirked slightly at the thought. "Why not?" he agreed, looking Daphne straight in the eyes.
Even though her lips remained motionless, Harry could swear that he saw a slight trace of a smile in her icy-blue irises. His own lips curled up in a small smile as he reached out his hand to Daphne. She looked down at it for a split second, before gripping his hand in her own and shaking it gently. Harry had to admit that he was surprised at how soft her skin was. With a smirk, he realized that it was to be expected from the infamous Ice Queen. However, warmth was not something he anticipated.
"I'm glad you've agreed, Potter," she commented. "It will make our cooperation much easier," Daphne said, seemingly oblivious to Harry's smirk.
"Yeah," the boy agreed, turning his attention back to his textbook. Their conversation in the Chamber of Secrets was nothing but awkward in his opinion, but he didn't find any problem in speaking to her at that moment. Just as the day before, it felt right, almost natural, as if she really was his friend. He shook his head after a few seconds. After all, the class-oriented topic wasn't that difficult to talk about, even with someone who used to be a complete stranger to him. "So, what are we looking for?" he asked, once again flipping through the pages of the Potions' book.
"Actually, I doubt that the potion we're looking for will be found in here," Daphne said, also turning her attention back to the textbook. "After all, Professor Snape said that we're revising the potions we've learned about in the years one, two, and three. I just hoped that, based on the small description, I would be able to find some annotation in here," she said, scanning the text in the book. "I'm pretty sure that not many potions turn dark purple after brewing."
"You've said you already have a few potions in mind," Harry stated, also trying to find something in the annotations. "What exactly? It would make our work much quicker if I also knew what we should be looking for," he observed.
"Good point," Daphne agreed. "I believe that the biggest clue in here is the fact that it's commonly used by the Healers at St. Mungo's, but can also be found in the possession of elder people," she said, pointing at the sentence on the piece of parchment. "That would suggest that it has something to do with health, though nothing too serious," she said, writing her observation down on her own piece of parchment.
"It can also be some kind of a quick-working poison, to shorten one's suffering," Harry commented. Daphne turned her head to look at him; her eyebrows were raised high on her forehead, meaning that she found his proposition unlikely. "What? The Muggles are known for doing something like that – the medics can give you some kind of poison if you're a senior, or incurably ill, and you want to lessen your suffering."
"Perhaps, but we're not like Muggles," Daphne countered, returning her attention back to the annotations in the textbook. Harry noticed that she started writing down the names of a few potions, just below her observations. "Besides, we haven't brewed a single poison for the past three years."
"Anything can be a poison if brewed incorrectly or if you applied to someone an incorrect dose," Harry replied, crossing his hands on his chest.
"You know surprisingly a lot about the Potions, Potter," Daphne commented. Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't expect it from you, based on what I have observed for the past few years. You always barely slipped through the exams at the end of the terms."
"Maybe it's just a matter of the teacher," Harry commented, directing his gaze away from the textbook. His eyes found Snape who was walking across the classroom, supervising the progress his students were making.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said in his usual cold tone as he hit Ron across the head with a few pieces of parchment that he was holding. Or rather the lack of progress, Harry commented.
"He doesn't like you that much, does he?" Daphne asked, also resting her gaze on the head of her house.
"He doesn't like my father," Harry stated simply as if it was enough of an explanation. "And I'm the closest person to my father that he knows."
"But your father is…"
"Dead, I know," he finished for her when he noticed that she was struggling with saying it out loud. "It doesn't stop him from hating me, though. But, to be honest, I think that being a Gryffindor is enough to get him to hate you."
"Or being a student at all," Daphne commented, earning herself a small chuckle from her partner, though it was quickly stifled. "It hardly strikes me as a professional approach," she added. Before Harry could say anything else, Snape loudly announced that the class was over, ordering the students to leave the room but not without cleaning after themselves. Since none of them has brewed anything, there wasn't much to clean, but everyone made sure not to leave even a single piece of parchment behind. "I guess I'll see you after lunch, then. Farewell, Potter," Daphne said as she collected her things and proceeded to leave the classroom.
"See you."
That's it for today. Let me know what you thought about this chapter. Sorry for a long break, but I had a lot of stuff going on in my life, and I'm in the process of exploring the HP fandom, so I can give you a good quality story. Please, be so kind as to leave a review under this chapter with a suggestion or simply point out if I have made any mistake. All comments are appreciated. See you next time.