Fourth story in which the friends meet heartless beings

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still on their way to the Slytherin common room, and it was still getting steadily colder the closer they got to their destination. Therefore, Hermione cast her most powerful warming charms on them, while Harry continued to read aloud:

After the three friends escaped from the troll, they left the wintry forest behind. They reached a barren plain that offered not a single clue to the eye, causing the gaze to fall into emptiness. With one exception. In the middle of the wasteland stood two magical creatures that even the most animal-loving people could only describe as repulsive. They were Sphanxes, related to the better-known Sphinxes. Whereas the Sphinxes, however, consisted of a human head on a lion's body, the Sphanxes were chimeras made of human and hyena. And these were two particularly notorious Sphanxes commonly known as "The In-Laws".

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron and Hermione giving him a long look, but his mind was already elsewhere. What had he been thinking, describing such creatures? He hadn't even known what hurdle they were supposed to be, let alone how the three friends were supposed to overcome them; one of the many holes in his story. Just as he himself still didn't know how to deal with Daphne's parents; not even when he had first met them, back then in the summer before their second year at Hogwarts...

Harry was greeted by Daphne's beaming face as he stumbled out of the fireplace. There was nothing of the reluctance she had expressed in her letters when he had suggested that he visit her. But he had missed her and had dearly wanted to see her again, and from the Burrow, it was only a skosh of Floo Powder to her home. And so it was that he finally embraced the girl, who had become his best friend within a single school year, tightly again.

"I'm glad to see you too," Daphne said as they broke away from each other, still smiling happily. That, however, changed abruptly when a shrill voice rang out from the next room.

"Girl! Is that your friend, the Potter boy?"

Daphne's expression stiffened, and it almost seemed to Harry that she was giving him an apologetic look before calling back, "Yes. Madam." Her voice sounded so emotionless, so hopeless, almost filled with a deep sadness, that Harry felt a stab in his heart. He knew that voice all too well. For many years it had been his.

"Then bring him here."

Daphne grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry," she actually whispered now. "I was hoping that she wouldn't be here when you got here..."

Harry squeezed her hand as well. "You never have to apologize to me, Daph. Who is that woman, then?"

"My stepmother."

Those two words told Harry everything he needed to know, and at the same time opened up so many new questions. Until now, he had known nothing of Daphne's home and family, except that she had a little sister named Astoria, to whom she had written every other day at Hogwarts, and from whom she had received letters back just as often.

Daphne let go of his hand, before leading him out of the fireplace room into a large drawing room with magnificent marble columns and gold chandeliers on the ceiling. And in the middle of the drawing room, they were greeted by a tall woman with long brown hair. The woman was dressed in a high-pinned, red robe that made Harry immediately think of "sinfully expensive" and "ugly". Golden jewellery glittered on her fingers, neck, and ears, but most striking was her face. It was so heavily made up that she could have been a clown in a circus. Even without Daphne's previous words, he would have known immediately that the two were not related to each other. They were as different as light and shadow, fire and ice, Snape and joy. Instinctively, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Ah, there you are at last," the woman said, stepping up to them, holding one of her bejewelled hands in Harry's direction. "You must be Harry Potter."

Harry disliked the woman at first glance, but she was part of Daphne's family. For her sake, he had to make an effort. "I am," he said, shaking her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs Greengrass."

That seemed to have been completely wrong, though. Daphne's stepmother stared at him as if he had spat in her face. At the same time, however, the very faintest hint of a smirk crept onto Daphne's otherwise stoic face.

"Um, yes," Mrs Greengrass finally said as she wiped her hand – consciously or unconsciously – on her robe. Lovely lady. "I heard that you grew up in lower circles. Likewise pleased to meet you." Then she turned to Daphne, and her voice instantly lost all feigned friendliness. "Keep the boy busy until tonight. And send in your sister. The girl is already prowling somewhere outside again, eager to drag fleas and other vermin into the house."

At her stepmother's words, Daphne's face tightened even further, and Harry knew her well enough by now to recognize the way she clenched her jaw. "Yes, Madam," she said and turned away abruptly, even before her stepmother dismissed her with a perfunctory wave of her hand. Harry walked up beside her.

"Now you know my stepmother," Daphne said quietly. "That's why I didn't want you to come here. I would much rather have come to you and Ron's family, but they would never have allowed me to..."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just took Daphne's hand again, squeezing it gently. And this time he seemed to have been spot on, at least Daphne gave him another grateful smile. It was so infectious that Harry had to grin all over his face as well. What did he care about any smug adults? All that mattered was that they were together and having fun.

Daphne led him out of the magnificent drawing room through a magnificent entrance hall into a magnificent garden. Everything was magnificent, but somehow there was something oppressive about all this splendour, all this flaunted wealth. Harry imagined his ideal home to be quite different, more like the Burrow or Hogwarts. The Dursleys, however, would probably turn green with envy if they could see all this. There was something amusing about the thought.

"Tori!" Daphne suddenly shouted so loudly that Harry winced. "Tori? Where are you?"

"I'm coming!" a girl's voice rang out from a group of trees, and soon after Daphne's sister came running. She looked like a younger copy of Daphne, various leavers in her hair aside. And all the while she was running, she was calling to them, so fast that Harry wondered how she didn't choke on her tongue. "I found some new snakes back there, they're all red and I think they've come in contact with magic, certainly from the dragon reserve, they were going to bring in Red-mouthed Reek-Roarers, weren't they? Oh, Daph, we need to go there – oh, is that your friend? Harry? Did you just change your clothes for him again?" Slithering, she came to a stop in front of them. "Hi, I'm Astoria! Astoria Greengrass! I'm already ten years old!"

Harry and Daphne exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

Astoria pouted. "Hey! This is no laughing matter!"

"Oh yes it is," Daphne said. "Harry must think you're some kind of savage. What do you look like?" And with that, Daphne started pulling the leaves out of her sister's blonde hair.

"You didn't look any better fifteen minutes ago," Astoria said, still pouting.

"I can only imagine," Harry said. "Just thinking about last April. Your sister truly looked terrifying when we were in the Forbid –"

He stopped when he noticed Daphne's warning look. Probably now was indeed not the best moment to talk about his Invisibility Cloak, the rumour of a Lindworm, breaking all the school rules, the Forbidden Forest at night, mortal danger, near-death experiences, last-second rescues, and eating biscuits with Hagrid. Too bad. That had been one of the most fun days of his life.

"Nice to meet you, Astoria," he said instead, and this time he actually meant it. And then he did something that he had only ever seen in old movies that Aunt Petunia sometimes watched. Leaning forward, he took Astoria's dirt-covered hand and touched it lightly with his lips.

This time it was the Greengrass sisters who burst into laughter, and after a moment's hesitation Harry joined in.

"I like you, Harry," Astoria said with tears of laughter in her eyes. "You're much funnier than all those silly children of Madam's friends."

"Speaking of Madam," Daphne said. "She told me to find you. It's time for your lesson."

Astoria groaned. "Do I have to? I'd much rather play with you and Harry!"

"Another time," replied Daphne with a sympathetic smile. How Harry regretted at that moment not having a sibling. "And don't forget why you're doing it. As Madam said just last week: Without proper table manners we're no better than pigs."

"I'd rather be with the pigs than with her," Astoria muttered. Then she turned back to Harry and hugged him, much to his surprise. Her head only reached his chest, and he patted it awkwardly. "I'm so looking forward to being at Hogwarts with you next year. And maybe I'll even get into Gryffindor!"

"Then I set the Sorting Hat on fire," Daphne whispered in Harry's ear so that only he could understand her.

They said goodbye to Astoria – not before she had also made Harry promise to write to her at least three times a week – and started walking around the garden alone.

A comfortable silence had spread between them as they admired the flowerbeds, fountains, and crystal sculptures sparkling in the sunlight. At some point, however, Harry noticed Daphne's gait slowing. They were now standing next to a thicket of hedges and shrubs that clearly hadn't been trimmed in a long time.

"I didn't even realize where we were going," Daphne said quietly, much as if she was speaking to herself rather than to him. Then she suddenly looked at him, and Harry felt as if she were dissecting him with her gaze, as if she were trying to see to the bottom of his soul. She let out a sigh but did not avert her gaze. And he couldn't take his eyes off her either. Her shimmering eyes held him tightly, not allowing him to let go, green stars in an ocean of glorious summer.

"Harry, you are my very best friend…"

Again, Harry squeezed her hand. "You're mine too, Daph."

"And we'll be friends forever. Won't we?"

"Yes, forever." Harry hadn't even had to think. He hadn't the faintest idea what his future life would be like, but he knew that he wanted to remain friends with Daphne forever. Never again did he want to miss her in his life.

"Then I want to show you something," Daphne said. "Not showing you ... I would feel like I was keeping a secret from you. Just please don't tell anyone."

And with that, she led him around the brush, and they stood before a weed-covered, dark gravestone. Harry gulped as he read the engraved words.

Medea Greengrass

Born 14 February 1963, died 10 September 1987

"This is where my mother is buried," Daphne said from beside him. She had averted her gaze, and a blonde veil covered her face. "My real mother. My ... father doesn't want us to be here. Or to have the gravestone cleaned. Maybe he's secretly ashamed after all..."

Stepping forward, she wiped some dirt from the surface of the stone with her hand, as carefully as if she were afraid of breaking it. Then she suddenly fell to her knees, tears running down her cheek.

Immediately Harry was at her side. He had never seen Daphne cry like this before. He didn't know how best to behave. But he wanted to comfort his friend. Tenderly, he put his arms around her quivering body, and Daphne pressed against him.

"I want you to know," she said. "To understand. My past…"

Harry did not contradict her. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway. How could one behave in a situation like this? And so he did the only thing that seemed right at that moment. He held Daphne in his arms and stroked her back and hair soothingly, just showing her that he was there for her, while she began to tell him in a shaky voice.

"My parents were very young when they got married. Just finished with Hogwarts. I think ... I think they were really happy then, at least that's what it sounded like in my mother's stories..." Daphne let out a sob. "And then I came. My mother was only eighteen at the time, but ... she said it had been the most beautiful day of her life. And two years later came Astoria. We were a happy, little family. Mummy, daddy, Tori and I... my mother laughed so much. To me, at that time, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But at some point, she was probably no longer good enough for my father, I guess..."

Around them, the birds chirped their merry songs, a perfect contrast to Daphne's voice, which had now become quite soft, barely more than a breath in the gentle breeze.

"I didn't know it then, but my father cheated on my mother … the only thing I knew was that from one moment to the next, the happy family of my childhood was shattered. My mother took Tori and me and we moved into a small apartment, somewhere in a different place. Nothing was the same there. I was so confused, but no one explained anything to me."

"How old were you then?" Harry asked.

"Six," said Daphne. "I had to take care of Tori then. Make her food, comb her hair, make sure she washed and ate enough. Our mother ... all she did was cry. All day long. She had really loved the bastard with all her heart…" Her body shook, and Harry strengthened his embrace. "Eventually, though, she got quieter and quieter. She just sat in the corner and stared into the air. I ... I wrote letters to my father, but he never replied. Only later did I learn that he had remarried. The very woman he cheated on my mother with…"

Her stepmother, Harry realized.

"Then one day I found my mother dead," Daphne continued. "In the bathtub of our apartment. I still remember it clearly. Her wand was floating in front of her in the red water. She had slit her wrists. Her body had still been warm when I found her. She … she left us alone..."

Daphne stopped, letting her tears flow. And Harry with her. Together the children wept, they wept for a happy childhood of which they had only pale memories. They wept for a future that had been stolen from them, of warm dreams that had been dreamed out before they were old enough to face the cold of life.

It was much later in the afternoon when they rose again from the ground and walked together back to the house; and when Daphne spoke those words that should never sound from the mouth of a twelve-year-old girl.

"My mother was weak, but I will be strong. Never shall I end as she did. Never shall any man have such power over me."

What kind of parents let their children feel this way, Harry wondered as they walked through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. What kind of person did you have to be to not be able to give your daughter the affection of a loving father? He couldn't explain it, couldn't imagine how someone, how a father could behave like that.

He should have cursed him directly into the afterlife then, maybe that would have actually done some good...

Back in the house, they were greeted by a slender and round-shouldered man with pale hair next to Daphne's stepmother, staring out of one of the large windows.

"Father," Daphne addressed him coolly. "I didn't realize you would be back from your… business travels so early."

For a brief moment, it seemed to Harry that Daphne's stepmother was giving her father a disparaging look. What kind of family was this?

"Your mother insisted," replied Daphne's father, still staring out the window. "She has plans for tonight." And then he turned, his eyes falling on Harry. "Is that your friend? Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Father," Daphne said. "He came to see me today, but now he must return to the Weasleys where he –"

"I see. Well, it's really none of my business," her father said with a bit of disinterest. "Your mother will take care of everything else." And with that, he strode out of the drawing room without giving his daughter another glance.

"Wonderful," said Daphne's stepmother. "I have invited the Fudges to dinner. You two had best freshen up before they arrive." Her lips curled dismissively as she looked at Harry's clothes. "I had the house-elves put out a suitable wardrobe for you, boy."

"But Madam," Daphne protested. "The arrangement was for Harry to return to the Weasleys. I'm sure they're already worried and –"

"I don't care," said Daphne's stepmother. "The Minister for Magic already knows Harry Potter will be present tonight. Find a solution to the Weasley problem. Then he'll return later when the Fudges are gone again. Whatever. I don't care what you do, Daphne – though you could truly use food in distinguished company. You're so skinny, and you never laugh, you have to be careful you don't become an ugly, sad thing like your mother. Anyway, you're just supposed to sit still and be quiet later. Din that into your sister's head, too. Girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. I expect, however, the boy to attend dinner and entertain the Minister and his wife as thanks for our hospitality. I would be most distressed if your lack of upbringing should once again spoil one of my evenings."

The atmosphere in the drawing room had become so uncomfortable, so frosty, during her words that Harry would have preferred to return to the Dursleys immediately rather than remain near this woman even a second longer. A glance at Daphne, however, made him lose that thought.

She was looking at him with a pleading look – he couldn't describe it any other way – and it seemed to him as if she had to muster all her self-control not to burst into tears again. Her lips silently formed the word "Please".

He could never refuse her anything, especially not in a situation like this. And so followed one of the most horrible evenings in Harry's life, during which he had the feeling that he was the main attraction in a macabre chamber play. Daphne hardly said a word, but every now and then, when no one noticed, she briefly squeezed his hand under the table, and for Harry that was reason enough to decide that way every time.

However, there was one more thing he had to get off his chest before they wouldn't see each other again until Hogwarts.

After they had said goodbye to each other and he had stepped into the fireplace, he whispered to Daphne, "I don't think you're ugly."

And as the green flames enveloped him, he could see his friend smile.

"In a minute we have to be at the Slytherin common room," Ron said. "Fred and George once told me it was here, just around the next corner."

Harry knew all too well where the Slytherin realm was, as often as he'd snuck into it, but he preferred to keep that to himself. If the worst came to the worst, his two friends could always plausibly deny having known about his escapades.

As they rounded the corner, however, they looked not at the blank wall that hid the secret entrance to the Slytherin common room, but at two marble pillars, and between them, dim shadows. On the pillars sat the two creatures of his fairy tale, Sphanxes, hybrids of the body of a hyena and the face of a human. And like in Harry's fantasy, they were not just any human faces, but those of Daphne's father and stepmother.

The orange light from the torches shimmered across the faces of the two creatures, which were constantly contorting. The expression with which they looked at each other was filled with abysmal revulsion. And their voices cut the air like whips.

"...but I guess you don't even get that anymore ", the left Sphanx with the face of Daphne's stepmother clamored. "As often as you are with her. Never should I have gotten involved with you, you lying –"

"Oh be silent, woman," interrupted the right Sphanx with the face of Daphne's father. "In the past, you couldn't get into my bed fast enough either, even though I was already married and –"

"Now don't act like you can look down on me. I knew I wasn't the first you cheated on your stupid wife with, and that I won't be the last either. But we had a deal! How could you show up at the Minister's ball with that hussy on your arm? Because of you, I was the laughing stock of –"

"As if you needed me for that! Medea at least had the excuse of two births, but you just keep getting fatter and flabbier, your breasts sagging like two empty teabags. I – Oh, did you get yourself some backing, woman? Or are they your toy boys?"

The man's small, bloodshot eyes had noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The woman now glanced briefly at them as well before turning back to her husband.

"Are you blind?" she scoffed. "The one in the middle is the Potter boy who's here all the time. I don't know the other two brats. They're probably looking for your wayward daughter who –"

"Why are you bugging me about this? The girls are your job. But I am not surprised that they don't want to have anything to do with you. You've always had a rotten character, but at least you used to be good-looking."

"They don't want to have anything to do with you either! If you'd raised them properly, then..."

Harry felt his wand begin to shake in his hand, but he forced himself to remain calm. They weren't worth it, and he had a more important task at hand. "They don't care about us," he said to Ron and Hermione beside him. "They don't care about anyone but themselves. Let's go." And with that, he stepped through the pillars into the shadows.

"Poor Daphne," Hermione whispered, as the voices of the arguing Sphanxes were already fading behind them. "And you knew all this, Harry?! You … you know so much about her, more than anyone else. Surely it must hurt you so much that –"

"You should read on, Harry," Ron interjected abruptly, the more empathetic of his two friends as he so often was. "What's next in the tale?"