AN: I usually have these at the end, but this was important so here we go — this fic will consist of 1 (or 2) chapters dedicated to each of the 7 Hogwarts years, with each chapter consisting of multiple vignettes/snippets, most (if not all) of which will from Daphne's deep PoV. The first two (and perhaps a fair bit of the third) years will run pretty much parallel to canon, with stuff diverging somewhat after that. Even so, the fic will remain heavily character, dialogue and well, friendship oriented, with complex plot-heavy portions taking a bit of a backseat. Finally, this fic is a prequel to an existing in-progress fic of mine — more on that in the end notes. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: High Hopes
In which hats are threatened, friends are made and dossiers are maintained.
"Oi, Diamonds! Wait up!"
Daphne sighed as she turned around in the hallway, pressing up against the compartment she had chosen as an older student brushed past.
"What's the hurry?" huffed the chubby redhead as she sidled up alongside Daphne.
"The hurry to claim an empty compartment, we don't want to end up sitting awkwardly with some upper years, do we?" said Daphne, sliding open the compartment's door, and gesturing.
"Alright mum," sighed her childhood friend as she pushed her trunk inside. "Any sign of Anthony?"
Daphne shrugged as she looked up and down the bustling hallway — a veritable menagerie of redheads had boarded the train just then, though their hair was a fair bit lighter than hers and Susan's.
"Honestly, knowing him, he might have actually gone off to see that muggle motion picture; hey!" Daphne yelped as someone bumped into her from behind.
"Oh shite, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there!"
Susan giggled. Daphne balled up her fists, glaring at the offender — a freckled boy, part of the redheaded flock (the Weasleys, perhaps?)
"Um…" he mumbled, scratching his nose.
"Oh, you couldn't see me, huh?" Daphne sniped, narrowing her eyes. "Was I beneath your vision?"
"...what? Look here, whoever you are —"
"What is up, fellow maggots?" said a voice from behind the two girls as Anthony Goldstein's brunette head appeared between them. Susan sighed, pushing him away.
"Hey! What's with the cold welcome... oh," Anthony said, looking at the three people in front of him. "Did I interrupt a meeting of Redheads Reunited or something? Well, I'll have you know that there's a whole bunch of your lot down the hallway —"
"Anthony," said Daphne, "he...implied that I was short."
"Well now, Daphne, to be fair — ow! Not the shin, you — alright! You're a veritable half-giant, you. Happy?"
Daphne looked upwards as if seeking divine intervention and then pushed Susan into the open compartment, shutting the door behind them. Anthony chuckled, glancing at the rather confused looking fellow first-year.
"Don't mind her — she's a tad touchy about her height. See ya!" Anthony waved at him as he opened the door yet again and slid into the compartment.
"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head as he continued down the Hallway. "Weird as hell, those three."
"Greengrass, Daphne!"
Daphne skipped up the stairs in three jumps and slid onto the rickety stool. She beamed up at the Professor.
"Hi Professor! Again!"
The professor inhaled deeply and plopped the hat onto her head, the brim to fall over her eyes.
"Well, let's see what we have here…"
You're in my head!
"To sort you I have to know you, you know?"
Mum said that's illegal. Going into other people's heads. Also, unpleasant. This feels fine, though. Wonder why—
"Right! Moving on! Hmm. Plenty of guts—"
Wait! Before you do anything, where are the Hogwarts Kitchens?
Daphne felt an odd sensation from the hat, a questioning feeling — definitely more of a 'wut' than a 'what'. Astoria had made the distinction very clear.
Well, the food has to be prepared somewhere, right? I mean, the elves —
"The dungeons. Behind the — nope. Nope. Can't tell you that."
Daphne widened her eyes and peered pleadingly into the black nothingness of the Hat's brim.
"That won't work."
Fine. Stuck up little hat. I'll figure it out on my own.
"Wha— kids these days, I swear. It was so much better back in Godric's days when I was allowed to mess up you little blighters' hairstyles…"
Scary.
"Insolent brat."
No, really. Scary. I love my red hair the way it is. Of course, Draco Malfoy says I look like a Weasel or something — he was drawling way too much for me to make sense of much, but what does Draco Malfoy know, huh? Huh? Have you seen his hair? Gods, so much product —
"Miss Greengrass. No, I have not 'seen' Draco Malfoy's hair because he's after you on the list…"
Right. Can you mess up his hair?
"No. Headmaster's orders. If I disobey I get turned into a troll and then the students get to experience the distinct joy of Sorting by Troll…"
Wait, I think I heard something about that on the train...oh. Hold on. How does the Headmaster get to know that you've messed up a student's hair?
"...they walk away from the stool with messed up hair?"
So...if I were to mess up my own hair somehow — I'll have you know, I done it before — the Headmaster would blame it on you?
"Please don't."
Alright! That would be rather rude of me, especially so soon after I made your acquaintance, Mr Hat.
"..."
…
"...right, as I was saying, you have guts and bravery, but the Gryffindor charge would not fit your Modus Operandi, no, not at all—"
Wait! Are the Gryffindors situated in the dungeons?
"No? They have a tower—"
Oh. Sod Gryffindor then. Also, I'm definitely not a Ravenclaw. They have a tower too, right? Of course they do, brainy bird people and Anthony clones, the lot of them…
"Miss Greengrass, I believe I am the one supposed to be doing the sorting. Please do not be so hyper."
I'm just helping you, no need to be a grouchy old fart. Anyway, are the Hufflepuff and Slytherin dorms in the dungeon, then?
A mental sigh reverberated within Daphne's head.
"Yes. Does this… line of questioning have anything to do with your query about the Kitchens earlier?"
Yes! Smart hat! — at this, the hat audibly growled, sending murmurs rippling through the student body — I need easy access to it for midnight snacks. For Ice Cream!
"For one, students aren't allowed inside the Kitchens. Secondly, we certainly don't serve something as utterly tasteless as Ice Cream at this institution."
For a talking headpiece you're terribly officious, you know that? Ha! I can be officious too. Well, at least if the word means what I think it means, I can… anyway. For one, rules schmoolz. For two, bugger off. I'll remedy that dire culinary situation within the week.
"I could just tell the Headmaster of your dastardly plans."
And I could just temporarily suspend my nice and sugary nature and mess up my hair when I get up from here.
"Just so you know, my metaphorical eye is twitching violently."
I seem to cause that in people I talk to! A lot. Aren't I wonderful?
"I'm done with you. I'm not going to subject the Puffs with you — you'd likely turn them into serfs in an Ice Cream collective or something — and you're hardly focussed enough for the Ravens, so better be SLYTHERIN!"
A set of cheers came from the Slytherin table.
"The Slytherins are definitely in the dungeons, yes?"
...yes. Please move. I have a job to do. Students to sort. Stuff.
"I don't trust you."
Daphne lightly lifted the hat's brim to look at Professor McGonagall, who was looking at her bemusedly.
"Miss Greengrass, you can go to—"
"Professor, are the Slytherin dorms in the dungeon?"
"—the Slyth … I … er, yes?"
...honestly? Like, are you for real? Now, move.
"You're still a cheeky buggering tattered old hat. Bet that's because you've never had Ice Cream. And remember, if you tattle … I will frame you. Somehow. Don't try me. Okay bye."
Daphne Greengrass jumped off the stool, hugged Professor McGonagall because it had been ages since her last hug and dashed down to the Slytherin table, waving at Susan who was staring at her from the Hufflepuff table. Why did she look so … morose? They could still meet, couldn't they? Resolving to talk to her friend the next day, she sat down beside a recently-sorted brunette witch who was trying to fling peas into the crowd of waiting first-years.
"Hi! I'm Daphne Greengrass! You're Tracey Davis, right? What's your preferred dessert? Wait, sorry, that one comes after I commandeer you as my friend…"
Draco Malfoy had daddy issues.
"So you're basically going to run to your father because another kid didn't want to be friends with you?"
"I … no!" Draco sputtered, glaring at Daphne. "That's not —"
"Frankly, I'd react in much the same way if you insulted my existing friends," Daphne continued, beaming at Tracey who looked much like a deer caught in the headlights at that moment, "right before you propositioned me."
"I did not proposition Potter!"
Theo Nott raised an eyebrow. "Sounded a lot like you did, mate."
"Honestly," said Daphne as she opened the notebook she had brought down from her dorms and laid out the ink. "You didn't even — hold on. This Ronald Weasley … freckled and blue-eyed?"
Draco nodded slowly.
"Oh. Yeah, he's a piece of work alright. Bloody heightist…"
"Language!" Pansy hissed as she sat down at the table the first years had co-opted.
"See!" Draco exclaimed. "Now you understand why I — wait … height, what?"
Daphne sighed. "But —"
"Butt."
Pansy swatted Theo behind his head as Daphne giggled.
"As I was saying," she continued once Theo had stopped feigning a concussion. "I have a highly valid reason for disliking Ronald. You, however, did what you did just… randomly."
"Daphne, there's no reason needed — they're blood traitors, the lot of them."
Tracey coughed and got up to go to the bathroom.
"Blood — didn't that stuff… stop after the war?" Daphne asked in a small voice.
Draco laughed. Theo shifted in his seat.
Oh.
So that's why Susan had been so weird the past week.
Wow, Snape was a pretty bad teacher.
Daphne looked around as she summoned and dropped the broom for the millionth time. This was easy — though looking at the various displays of frustration and broken noses around her … why did the broom respond more easily to some people? This couldn't be standard wandless summoning, could it? They were only firsties.
Draco and Potter seemed to have gotten the hang of it though, along with a couple of others. Idly looking about, she saw a group of students heading to the western grounds, likely the Hufflepuffs first years heading for Herbology.
Susan… she'll come around, right? Well, at least that's what Anthony said. Merlin, I was dumb. I thought when Susan and her aunt talked about the Slytherins, they were only talking about the ones of the last generation — not the ones I'd be attending school with! Though they don't all seem bad.
"Woah!" cried Tracey from beside her, as her friend's arm shot out and grabbed the broom assigned to Daphne… which had been on an intercept course with her nose.
Well, that's what you get for blanking out in class.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"Sure," said Tracey, going back to glaring at her broom which appeared to be wobbling about at knee height.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch, after she had inspected their grips. "One, two — oh, come back, boy! Mister Longbottom!"
Daphne scrunched her eyes shut as a thud sounded on the ground, accompanied by murmurs and sharp intakes of breath from the student body.
"That looked painful as anything…" murmured Tracey. "Wonder what — oh merlin, what's Draco doing?"
Daphne tentatively opened one eye.
Hold on, isn't that Longbottom's Remembrall? He was parading it at breakfast — oh no you don't!
"Oi! Draco! What do you think you're doing!" she shouted, swatting away Tracey's hand. Potter and Ronald Weasley turned about in confusion as Draco sputtered.
"I..."
"Daphne," whispered Pansy urgently from the side, "It's Longbottom's —"
"I know. Now —"
"Oi, you!" Weasley said from Potter's side. "What was all that on the train, by the way?"
"Shut," she snapped at him, turning back to Draco, who looked like a fish out of water. "Give it to me," she said, holding out her hand.
Draco was still looking at her, an ugly sneer forming on his face.
Oh, for Merlin's sake —
"Draco," she said, adopting a weary tone. "You're a Slytherin. Slytherins don't simply go off on wild broom rides. We plan. Cunningly, and all the rest."
Draco started nodding his head as Pansy groaned from beside her.
"So here's what we're going to do," she continued. "We're going to… kickstart a standard code zero eight two."
Draco looked at her. "The… code zero eight two… will, of course, help us get one up on Longbottom," he said slowly, as Pansy covered her face with her hands, still groaning — or was she trying to stifle laughter?
"Indeed," she said just as solemnly, ignoring the rising aura of confusion all around her. "Of course, cunning snakes such as ourselves can't talk about the Serpentine Codes in front of the riff-raff."
"Of course," Draco murmured, as he bounced the Remembrall between his hands. "Well, no need for this then, is there?"
And with that he threw it over his shoulder and Daphne's heart jumped into her throat. The Irish Gryffindor — Finnegan? — tried to catch the remembrall as it soared through the air, flapping his hands as if trying to clap. It slipped through his hands, only to be saved by a spectacular dive by the boy standing beside him.
Whew. Those things were expensive.
"Bloody hell, Seamus, you call that a catch? You never played cricket or what?" said the Saviour of the Remembrall, dusting off his knees as he got up to his feet.
"Oh, come on Dean…"
Daphne caught Harry Potter's eye as the other Gryffindors gathered around Dean and Seamus. He hesitated, mouthing the words zero eight two. She blushed, arching an eyebrow, and he smirked.
"Well, Daphne," murmured Draco from beside her — when had he gotten there? — as the other Slytherins watched her with varying degrees of amusement, and in Theo's case, something akin to respect.
Wonder why…
"Hmm?" questioned Draco.
"Oh, I'm sorry I uh. I zoned out."
"I'm guessing you will elaborate on your plan back in the common room, when there are fewer hostiles out and about?" he clarified, looking at the Gryffindors.
"...yeah. Definitely. Code Zero Eight Three."
"Two."
"Zero Eight Two. Right."
Draco nodded at her, before moving back to Pansy to whisper furiously to her. She just shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.
Well, whoops.
"Merlin, Greengrass, you — what the bloody hell was that? It was Longbottom's memory aid for Morgana's sake! He —" Draco ranted.
"Yes, you fooled us all, in front of the Gryffindors…" murmured Pansy, looking anywhere but at Draco and Daphne.
"I had a whole bloody plan! Destroy Longbottom's Remembrall, humiliate the lions, and get Potter in trouble. You just had to ruin that, didn't you? And I can't believe you just made up a bloody fake secret code system thing to distract me!"
Daphne hugged her knees tightly as she burrowed her face into them, sitting on a couch in front of Draco and Pansy, the other first years arrayed around them. Tracey was fretting with the sleeve of her robes as she glanced at Daphne.
"Draco, I think you're being too —"
"No." This was her mess to deal with. Not Tracey's.
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry…
"Well, glad that's — what?"
"I said no, Draco. You can't keep going on being an arse."
"I —" started Draco, eyes flicking over to where the 6th year prefect Evan Rosier was sitting with his year mates. "I'm doing what's proper. Okay? Just… don't embarrass us further in front of others like this. Vince, Greg, come on."
She heard Draco getting up and heading off with Vince and Greg, likely followed by Pansy. Lowering her feet down to the floor, she braced herself on her knees.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She turned around to see Theodore Nott — a wiry boy with brown hair — looking at her.
"I — er, he… do you want a cookie? I have cookies."
"Impressive," said Daphne solemnly.
"They're good cookies," mumbled Theo, scratching behind his ear.
"I'll have the cookie, then."
Theo reached into his robes and brought out a fistful of what might have at some point been a cookie. Nay, a good cookie, Daphne could see the gooey chocolate.
"...alright! Thank you!" said Daphne as Theo transferred the once-cookie to her cupped hands.
He shook his head, muttering to himself as he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder and headed out of the common room. Millie was nowhere to be seen, and Tracey was hovering around the sitting area.
"I'll… be in the library, then…" Tracey mumbled as she headed into the dorms to fetch her stationery.
Daphne smiled after her. She didn't feel particularly happy but didn't smiling, in turn, give you a rush of happy emotions? Or well, so she had read.
She sniffed at the chocolatey mess in her hands. Ooh, orange essence. She debated with herself for a moment, and sighed, leaning over to the nearest vanishing bin to dispose of it.
"Well, Mister Mysterious Melancholist, looks like it's just you and me, huh?" she said, beaming at the only first year in the common room, who started when she addressed him.
"Hmm," Blaise Zabini said mysteriously.
Sighing, Daphne leaned back into the plush couch and pulled out her transfiguration text. She still had Anthony, didn't she? And Susan?
"Hey."
"Susan!"
"Diam — Daphne."
"I'm glad we decided to meet here, it's been pretty hard finding time to talk during classes and all, right?"
Susan hummed as she looked around the classroom.
"I brought macarons!" said Daphne, jingling a jar of the stuff. Susan grinned.
"So," Daphne continued as she unscrewed the jar, "how's badgerland?"
"Pretty alright really. Hannah's there so…yeah and Ernie's being Ernie, I'm sure I don't need to explain further, hmm?"
Daphne snorted. "I should put him in a room with Draco, at least one of them will be annoyed to death…"
"Draco Malfoy?"
"You don't need to worry, you know," said Daphne, patting Susan on the shoulder with one hand while the other reached into the macaron jar.
"What?"
"About me being in Slytherin, silly. Some of them do have odd ideas about some things — there, take the pink macaron, it tastes best — but well, I can handle myself. And not all of them are bad."
"That's not... anyway. Um, about that… did it… did it say anything? Like… about your sorting?"
"Mmm?" Daphne looked up, a macaroon in her mouth.
"The hat, it usually just sorts people without any interaction, but sometimes it speaks to the student. Did it, well…?"
"Oh," said Daphne, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with her sleeve as she shifted to become more comfortable on the ledge. "Yeah, it did. It's not a very nice... entity, though — got a real stick up its… right, I should add hat anatomy to my library to-do list —"
"What did it say? What did you … talk about?" asked Susan, hugging herself.
"Umm. Messing up of hair, which came up because of… oh! The kitchens! I cannot believe I haven't tried to look for them yet! You 'Puffs wouldn't happen to know where they are, would you?"
"I — no, it's… kitchens? Hogwarts has those? Anyway. Um. Back to the hat. It didn't tell you why you were sort —"
Daphne sighed theatrically as she fell backwards onto the lump she had made of her robes. "Well, snap. At least I didn't lose an easy opportunity when the Hat refused to sort me into Hufflepuff for easy kitchen access…"
Susan froze. "It refused to sort you into Hufflepuff?"
"Yeah," said Daphne, stretching out on the table. "Some weird stuff about me and … servants? Serfs? Or something like that, wasn't really paying attention."
Susan eeped, pressing her hands against her mouth as she jumped a foot away from the table. Daphne raised her head in confusion.
"You 'kay?"
"Yes! I need to go … I have tutoring! Bye!"
"Wait, so early in" — Susan ducked through the curtains covering the alcove, without looking back — "the year…?"
Groaning, Daphne slid off the table grabbing her robes on the way, trying not to think about the fact that Susan had missed their secret goodbye fistbump. She was going to be late for transfiguration if she didn't hurry.
"Honestly Theo, as far as pranks go, the whole midnight duel thing was fun and fairly harmless. Potter and Ronald Weasley will get detention if they're caught out during curfew, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Troll! Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know," said Professor Quirrell, proceeding to drop like a sack of potatoes.
Daphne choked on the juice she was drinking, and Tracey thumped her back while following the lead of the other students and shouting in terror at the top of her voice.
"SILENCE!" Headmaster Dumbledore thundered from the front of the Hall.
Healthy pair of lungs on the headmaster, age considered and all.
"The prefects will lead the students to their dormitories — the heads of houses are requested to meet at the High Table at once."
"Ha!" came a voice from down the table — Cassius Warrington, a rather vile fourth year. "Senile fool has forgotten that our dorms are in the dungeons."
"Slytherin house, listen up!" shouted Lumine Blackhaven, the head girl for the year, as she climbed onto the table smacking Warrington's head on the way. "We will be taking the rapid transit emergency passage to the Slytherin dorms, bypassing any Trolls that may be roaming about in the dungeons — it's the safest place we can be in right now, regardless of its location in the dungeons. Follow me and the other prefects!"
She hopped off the table and marched off towards a tapestry in one of the alcoves lining the Hall, waving her wand at it.
"Daphne! Come on!" hissed Tracey, dragging her up and over the benches as Daphne made a grab for the dessert platter. A passageway had opened up in the alcove and the Slytherins were pouring into it, the prefects ensuring nobody started a stampede.
Daphne spied the prone form of Professor Quirrell lying amidst the stampeding Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. "Shouldn't someone pick up the professor —"
Professor Snape, who had been forcing his way through the students, turned towards her. "Miss Greengrass, you should — oh shite."
Daphne twisted around to follow Professor Snape's eyes to where Professor Quirrell's crumpled form had been just moments ago.
Snape cursed.
Daphne looked at him, lifting an eyebrow as she slipped the tarts from the platter into her pockets. Snape cursed some more and pushed her towards a passing prefect.
"Miss Avery, see to it that she and Miss Davis don't wander off," he said and raced off towards the side door behind the High Table.
Daphne and Tracey followed the prefect to the common room, meeting up with their year mates. As the initial excitement wore off, and Daphne settled down with her Transfiguration essay — why were the darn things so damn tough — Tracey walked over to her.
"Can I …"
"Oh sure," said Daphne, gesturing at the other side of the tête-à-tête loveseat she was occupying.
"So, well," said Tracey as she sat down, fidgeting. "er, you saw Potter and Weasley run off somewhere."
"Yes. We just talked about that with the rest, didn't we?"
"So we did, so we did…"
"Thanks by the way!" said Daphne, looking up from her parchment.
"What?"
"For not letting me choke to death, you dummy."
Tracey put her head in her hands and groaned softly.
"You alright?" asked Daphne, twisting to face her.
"How are you here? How in Merlin's name did the hat put you here? You're too… you."
"I have reasons for being here… speaking of which, I really need to get on with finding them."
"Ha! So you do have an agenda!"
"It's hardly an agenda —"
"No matter! You're a Slytherin. Definitely a Slytherin. Okay."
"Thanks…?" Daphne ventured as Tracey took a breath.
"I apologise," said Tracey.
Daphne must have looked supremely nonplussed because Tracey hurried on. "After the flying class incident, you know? I could have, well… I should not have…"
Daphne reached over the loveseat's barrier and hugged Tracey.
"Friends?" she said as her essay slipped off her lap and onto the floor.
"Been a better friend, yes — wait what? Daphne why are you … what."
"You're a friend. That was pretty minor. You're forgiven."
Daphne beamed.
Tracey stared at her, cracking a smile.
"One day I'll figure out why exactly you ended up in the snake pit."
"Well ..."
"Nope," said Tracey, shaking her head. "I'll figure it out."
"I could just tell you."
"No! You do not just give away your agenda like that, Daph."
"I am mildly confused right now."
Daphne exited the Potions classroom as Professor Snape made Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan clean the mess Greg had caused.
"Daphne!"
Daphne looked up as Anthony and Terry Boot rounded the corner.
"We've got detention with Snape," said Anthony morosely.
"Didn't submit an assignment on time," said Terry, shrugging.
"Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be straight O students?" asked Theo as he exited the classroom ahead of the Gryffindors. The two Ravenclaws exchanged a long-suffering look.
Draco's voice reached them as Harry and his friends passed by. Daphne shook her head. Honestly, Draco, taunting him about his parents and not having a home to go back to for Christmas...
"Hey!" said Anthony, striding over to Draco as Potter ignored the latter's taunts. "Don't you have something better to do, Malfoy?"
"Who do you —"
"Leave him alone, Anthony," said Daphne, noticing Hermione Granger looking back at her as the Gryffindors climbed the stairs. "He's just a worthless git who likes to show that he's being awful for no reason at all."
Daphne,
Mum's asked me to thank you for the absolutely delicious cookies you sent over, so consider yourself thanked. They really were damn good.
Hope you and your sister are holding up well, with your father in Switzerland for business during the holidays, and your mother busy with her soirees. You know you can come over anytime, right? That elf of yours is a capital fellow, he'll look the other way if you decide to pop over for a few hours. I might have Terry staying over for a bit, but you'll like him. Probably wouldn't hurt to breathe some non-Macmillan air for a change; bloke still lives across from you, right? My condolences.
Hermione Granger sent me a letter yesterday. It was largely to do with that investigative essay we have to write for charms, but she was also a smidgen interested in you. Well, interested in the sense of "Gosh, wonder what the crafty Slytherin is planning," but I set her straight about you. Not sure if she believed me though — she's a decent sort, really, but considering how Malfoy has been to the Gryffindors… well, I can't say I'm surprised.
Met Susan at the Bones Foundation dinner. She's pretending like she's not being an utter arse. Honestly, even Ernie seemed ticked off at her. It was a fun outing apart from that. Met some of my cousins who go to the Borkswig School in London — well, above London. Apparently, they have this neat class called Dimensionology — you need to take a test to sit in on it, so they were pretty tight-lipped about the course details. They were looking forward to the Hogswig Rages being restored in the near future, so I pretended to know what that was (any guesses? Why on earth do we not know this stuff?).
As for the potions assignment, if you don't have the readings for Wiggenwald's Reaction Experiment you could try flooing Fizzlebang's of Diagon; they have a bunch of portable potions sets they rent out sometimes.
Ciao,
Anthony
PS: Give Ernie a nice snowball or ten to the noggin on my behalf.
"The Gryffindors were playing cricket on broomsticks?" Tracey asked.
Daphne shrugged as the two teams took off from the pitch.
"Well, that's what Anthony said, and he heard it from that muggleborn boy in Gryffindor. Some sort of sport, I gather?"
"It's a muggle sport, yes. So… Potter apparently did a great job as a fielder, McGonagall just happened to see him while he was doing the said great job, and now he's on the team?"
Daphne hummed as she observed the game. The Hufflepuffs had a more cohesive play but…
"Wow," Tracey continued, shaking her head. "Honestly, going through the trouble of faking all that, just to have the Boy Who Lived on their team."
"I'm not sure they fake it — he did win against us in his first match, you know."
A commotion from the rows in front of them distracted her. Draco and Ron Weasley appeared to be squabbling, well, Draco was doing most of it, but still…
"Can you two please shut it? Some people are trying to watch the darn match," she said.
They ignored her, and Weasley jumped up as Draco made an admittedly nasty comment about his finances.
"Daphne, what are you —" Tracey whispered furiously from beside her as she got up and stepped down into the row in front, and grabbed Ron by the shoulders.
"Hey, what, it's you, again! Hermione, look, it's her — bloody hell, stop manhandling me, will you?"
"Sit," she said, forcing the lanky Gryffindor down onto the bench, noticing Hermione Granger and a nearby gaggle of Ravenclaws looking upon the scene in interest. Ron grumbled but acquiesced, rubbing his shoulders as he alternatively glared at her and Draco.
"Ha! Good show, Daph —" her blonde housemate started to say.
"Not another bloody word, you absolute hippogriff arse!" Daphne snarled, whirling about to face Draco, who reflexively took a step back. Tracey whistled. Ron looked at her appraisingly, even as Hermione Granger began tugging at his robes, pointing furiously towards the pitch.
Daphne stalked over to Draco, grabbed him by his left sleeve and dragged him down to the exit, paying no heed to his protests.
"Greengrass, this is the third time —"
"You and I are going to have a talk about all this," she said. Draco gave up on complaining intelligibly and switched over to whining vaguely as she dragged him out of the stadium, helped by Vincent Crabbe.
They set Draco down on a bench under a grove of trees near the stadium.
"Draco. Stop picking fights for no reason."
"He jumped me! You saw that! Where's your house loyalty? And I wasn't picking fights, I was putting people in their proper place!"
"Honestly, Draco. Why can't you stop parrotting whatever your father says about someone? Why can't you form your own views? How would you like it if I —"
"That's not it! They're… they're Weasleys! They can barely afford —"
"Do you really care about that, though? Because I'll have you know, I saw you in Diagon Alley while you were shopping."
Draco stared at her, idly tossing and catching an apple — where on earth did he pull that out from — while leaning against one of the trees.
"You were perfectly cordial with the customer clerk at Flourish and Blotts. I saw it, I was there. You were joking with her about the latest issue of Auror Fletchley Strikes Again … my sister loves that column, you know?" she said, giggling as Draco turned red.
"That was not what it looked like! I was… er, investigating the literature of the masses, so there!"
"But," she continued, holding up a finger as Draco made to continue his defence of his literary tastes, " coming to the point, then your father and Mister Rosier walked in and it was as if a switch had been flicked. Pulp fiction Draco out, and … and who-knows-what Draco in. Honestly, that poor clerk looked terribly confused — did you really have to loudly comment that the 'staffing at the store had fallen to the riff raff'?"
Draco bit into the apple, chomping away furiously as he looked at the ground between him and her. "Don't talk about my father like —"
"Same goes for the Remembrall situation earlier, you know. That was very mean of you, as was the stuff you said to me —"
"You know nothing, Daphne. You're sheltered, and you don't understand…"
Draco paused as he noticed how loud his voice had become. Daphne was staring at him with wide eyes.
"I… I need to go," Draco mumbled, stalking off towards the castle as Daphne sighed.
"I think… you're sort of correct," said Vince softly from where had been standing off to the side.
Daphne whirled about to face him. "Right? I'm sure he only acts like an arse because of his father, and perhaps the older students…"
"No."
Daphne paused, mismatched eyes peering at Vince. "What do you mean?"
"It's… well, 'both' versions of Draco are well, Draco. I… neither of them is an act," Vincent sighed as he scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't know. It's… probably something he should talk about."
"I suppose… well, whatever the case, I'm still not letting him off the hook," Daphne said, swinging her legs as she gripped the back of the bench. Vince hummed in agreement.
"Say, you think the match is over yet?" asked Vince.
"Probably," said Daphne, hopping off the bench. "Ugh, I don't wanna head back to the common room just yet…"
"Well, there's a golden snidget nest out by the groundskeeper's hut, if you want to go see that — they're really cute."
"Wait a mo, a literal hooded figure was drinking the unicorn's blood?"
Vince nodded and Daphne turned a light shade of green.
"Well, thankfully that centaur got there in time…" she said, shuddering. "I knew it was a good idea to ask you to go with Draco on his little spying mission to Hagrid's hut!"
Vince grunted dubiously.
"Well, I mean, if you hadn't then you wouldn't have gone to the forest for detention either and you wouldn't have met whatever that was… well, at least this way we get to hear what happened, right?"
Vince shrugged. "Well, whatever. We got out of it with every organ in its proper place so no harm, no foul. You should know that Draco was asking Potter if he had any dirt on you."
Daphne took a moment to try and process that, and then gave up.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well," Vince continued, sipping his cup of Tranquili-tea, "Draco's under the impression that you're only nice to Potter and his mates because Potter has something on you —"
"Oi! My good nature" — Tracey coughed suspiciously from a nearby couch — "is hardly exclusive to dealing with them!"
"I know," said Vince, holding up his hands, "but you know Draco. He only has eyes for Potter —"
A group of third-year girls sitting at the next couch cluster burst into hushed giggles, sneaking glances in their directions.
"Teenagers are weird," she said.
"Very."
"Well...you were saying something about… having something on me?"
"Oh yeah — Draco keeps files filled with gossip about everyone, but apparently he has nothing on you, so he was wondering if Potter had something…"
"... Draco keeps files on us."
Vince shrugged. Daphne twisted about to face the backside of the dual-sided couch.
"Pansy, what's this I hear about Draco and files?"
Pansy rubbed her eyes as she shut the book she had been reading. "He… it's exactly what it sounds like. I've told him it's weird and creepy, but somehow he's got it in his head that this is what a proper Slytherin does, he calls them Draco's Dossiers. I have no clue where or from who he got this from…"
Daphne continued staring at Pansy.
"Draco is under the impression that Hogwarts," she said, sighing, "is a sort of political chessboard. And that eleven-year-olds like him are the major players."
"Bloke's also paranoid as heck," said Theo from where he was sitting by the fireplace. "Keeps talking about how Dumbledore is out to get him…"
"He hasn't cottoned on to the fact that Three Factions nonsense is a game," Pansy muttered, looking at Daphne. "Now, don't go telling him that I said that, okay?"
Daphne nodded. "He's delusional," she said, smiling into the couch's upholstery.
Theo lit up. "Oh there's an idea," he said, standing up just as Draco entered the common room.
"Draco Malfoy!" He called out.
Draco paused as he glanced towards them.
"I declare you," continued Theo, with the most brilliant explosnap face Daphne had ever seen, "the Lord of Delusions!"
Draco grinned madly, as isolated pockets of students in the common room, clapped in confusion.
"Gosh darn," murmured Pansy. "Now he's gone and given the boy with visions of his own grandeur a title to boot…"
"Draco, calm down."
"Mate, listen to Pansy! It's just a sodding house cup…"
He gave up attacking his poor steak and started sobbing into Greg's shoulder.
"There, there," Greg mumbled as Theo laid his head on the table, shaking irrepressibly.
"So," said Tracey as she unloaded some oatmeal pudding onto her plate and the Gryffindors finally settled down on the opposite end of the hall, "you want to ride with us on the way back? Theo and me?"
"That'd be great! Though Anthony might join us for a bit. You know him, right?"
Tracey nodded. "And the Hufflepuff? Susan Bones?"
Daphne shrugged. A few moments passed in relative silence.
"Say, what exactly do you suppose happened to Quirrell in the dungeons? Potter doesn't seem the sort to go burning people's faces off, even if the Ravenclaws' intelligence is correct and Quirrell was an Underloch saboteur..."
AN1: Harry and Daphne will (eventually) be friends in this fic. This is not a Harry/Daphne fic — they will not be getting together. That said, there will be plenty of (hopefully) entertaining interactions between the two (plus, the sequel does have Harry/Daphne...)
AN2: This fic is a prequel of sorts to Cosmic Responsibility (the first chapter of which is already up), and will be published pretty much in parallel with CR. For those of you who haven't read CR yet, it's set in the same universe as Vignettes from Hogwarts albeit post-Hogwarts. It features a Harry/Daphne pairing (woot!) and is somewhat fluffier in tone (with a dash of crack ;)).
AN3: As for which order to read CR and VfH in — feel free to read them as I release chapters. If you're reading this after the fic(s) is/are complete, go ahead with reading this first or jump over to CR for some Harry/Daphne. Whatever works — the order does not strictly matter.
Do let me know your thoughts and comments! Expect the next chapter of VfH sometime next month, and chapter two of CR in a week or two. Many thanks to Webstriker for his invaluable help while editing this story! I invite you to join the Harry/Daphne discord server (link in my profile).