Azkaban, March 28th, 2013
Her face is an ivory mask once she reaches the guard that escorted her. He looks, discreetly at first, then he stares at her, trying to pry information from her features. She allows him absolutely none.
He is a stranger, and what just happened concerns absolutely no one but herself and her family. And probably Auror Potter and his friends. She will deal with them later.
Right now, she wants an explanation, a justification, and she'll hear it from no other but Uncle Lucius. And Aunt Narcissa. And Draco. She yearns for the words that will pass their lips, because she desperately needs them to explain. She needs to understand.
Above all things, she needs a new path to show itself, because in her mind, just now, all paths are unforgiving. They all end the same way. In the most secret place of her mind, she buries all those paths, hoping that the words she'll pry from her family will make another way clear.
She keeps her features stony once she reaches the small room where Auror Potter awaits her. She focuses on keeping her own mind guarded, shielding her thoughts. She focuses on keeping her eyes from turning red. Bright, blazing, blood-red. It would be the undoing of them all, and she won't let it happen, not before she has all of her answers.
Still, Auror Potter is not at ease. She cannot pry into his mind, not yet, but the little figments that escape his shields reach her mind covered in worry. Sour thoughts, riddled with fear. Delphini looks into his eyes, emeralds facing each other, the semblance uncanny, and his eyes hold nothing but dread. He scratches his scar when she walks past him, taking the lead.
So Auror Potter knows about me, too.
But she wants answers from her family first.
They walk silently to the Portkey. The thoughts radiate from Potter's mind, too worried to shield them from her. She gathers little pieces, saving them all to better use them later, when she confronts him. Parts about her being Lord Voldemort's daughter, something about a deal he made with her family, something about Rodolphus not being dead. Somehow, that little piece of information seems to be taken into high account in Auror Potter's mind.
X
Malfoy Manor, March 28th, 2013
"Delphini," Astoria's is the first voice she hears upon entering the Manor, "come here, if you please."
She has more than half a mind to simply walk past the door of the sitting room and walk straight into her Uncle's study upstairs.
"Delphini Black," the tone to Astoria's voice is unforgiving, one she has never heard before, and it's enough to halt her steps. "Come in here." No please, nothing but authority. This is a side to Astoria that she does not know.
"Sit down, Delphini," she orders with a nod of her head when Delphini walks past the doorway. Her brown hair rests braided on her left shoulder, and her hands are carefully poised on her lap, over the deep blue dress that hugs her thin, thinner now, shape.
Delphini sits down on the opposing armchair. Instinctively, she is on her best behaviour, as always when on the face of authority. Back straight, knees together, feet primly tucked together to the side, hands on her lap, fingers still despite the whirlwind inside her.
Astoria smiles, just barely, but there is a slight upturning to her pale lips. Her body is frail, she is not, that much is made clear to Delphini.
"It's all right, Delphini. Nothing's wrong-" She is interrupted immediately.
"How can you say that? Everything's wrong! You know! You've all known this all along and never told me!" Her voice is sharp and high from the emotion, and she is ready to rant her way through this and move on to going upstairs to look for the rest of them, but Astoria's glare stops her dead in her tracks. The soothing smile is gone.
"There is nothing wrong, Delphini. You know the truth, now. You know whose daughter you are," Astoria's right hand comes up to her chest, as if she can force her lungs to breathe better, her ribs to spread a little wider, "but you do not know the whole story. There is a reason it was kept a secret. There's a reason they could never even talk to you about Lord Voldemort."
Delphini leans forward in the armchair, knowing better than to interrupt Astoria again but nearly falling off her seat with anticipation. A reason for the secret, one that the Malfoys share, except for Astoria, something that barred them from talking to her about her father. Her real Father.
She lets a sigh past her lips. There may just be a way.
Astoria tells Delphini what she already knows at first. That the Malfoys had deserted the Dark Lord in the end, rushing home, hiding and hoping against all hope for a way out of his service that did not involve their death. That they had both panicked and rejoiced when the marks on their forearms were lifted once more, never to return. Then, she tells her what that she does not know.
"After the Battle, Draco went back to Hogwarts to get Harry. He knew it was important to tell someone about you, should anything happen. It was the only chance he had of keeping you. It was the only way. Your family couldn't risk hiding you only to see you be taken away later. He gambled it all on that chance, you see?" Astoria's lungs force her to take several deep breaths. Delphini can see that she is straining, she knows that she should not let her speak for so long, but she needs answers as much as Astoria needs to lift this weight off of her shoulders.
"Draco would be broken beyond repair if you were taken away from him. He couldn't let that happen, so he told the truth about you to Harry. I'm not sure about how Hermione was brought into this, but she was with the two of them when they came to the Manor."
Potter, Granger. In her mind, Delphini is making a list of the people she will demand explanations from. She wonders when Weasley got involved in the cover up.
"You see, Harry was quick to take your side in the matter. He wanted you to stay with the Malfoys. But Hermione was adamant on taking you away for quite a while before she even considered the possibility of letting us keep you. To let you stay, she demanded an Unbreakable Vow from your family. She had them swear to never telling you who your real father was, and never denying Rodolphus as your father. To be on the safe side, she also made them swear that they wouldn't tell you of what happened on that day, after the battle. They never really lied to you, Delphini, they simply could not tell you the truth. They still can't."
A heavy silence falls over them as she finishes her tale. It remains unbroken for long minutes, as Astoria gathers her breathing once more, steeling herself to endure the storm that she is sure will come.
It never does. No storm, no fury, no magical outburst. No blazing red glare. No blind fury.
"They would die if they told me?"
"They would," she replies. Astoria allows herself the tinniest hope of victory at the glaze of Delphini's eyes. They have succeeded, she will never be like her parents. "They will."
No anger. Only green-turned-grey eyes that seem to be on the verge of tears.
They would die for me, is all Delphini can think. She allows herself one lone tear, for she is home with her family, as she finds another path. One in which she has already forgiven them. Her very bones feel lighter as the weight of her nightmare is lifted.
Delphini asks Astoria to tell the others that all is well, but that she needs time alone. She leaves the sitting room and walks upstairs, her left hand caressing the wood railing of the staircase, her eyes lost somewhere above. She walks straight to her rooms, pushing the door open and feeling warmer in its magic. Guivre slithers to her, hissing a greeting and quickly wrapping himself around her outstretched arm. She climbs onto the bed, kicking her shoes off as she goes, absentmindedly petting Vicious as she watches the veil draw itself over her.
She sits there, very still, for long hours. Her body resting, but her mind working relentlessly. She is organizing memories, sorting conversations she remembers having with her family, establishing a sort of record. All the times they gave her little bits about her Father disguised in conversations about Rodolphus. She spares a thought for him, too. He is locked away in the cold, in the dark, watched and fed on by the spectres because of her. For her Mother. He made a deal with the devil, and the devil always wins. She is seen as a Lestrange by the world only because he allowed it so. She is kept safe because of his surname.
Though Scorpius is not safer for any of it.
She realizes then what it must be like for her family to hear all those malicious rumours about Astoria's illness and Scorpius' being the Dark Lord's child. Disgusting. Horrifying. She is probably the reason they never go beyond hard glares and unspoken threats. Because they must protect her, they endure the vicious gossip, shielding Scorpius as best they can.
She makes her own vows that evening, feeling Guivre's scales slide over her collarbones as he drapes himself around her shoulders. The truth must never see the light, not for her but for her family, so she will keep the secrets, tell the lies. She will keep them all safe as well.
That night, she dreams. She follows the snake down the corridors of the manor, through the darkness, no fear in her veins this time. She is curious, simply curious. Still, she hesitates by the mahogany double doors. She takes two tentative steps towards it, leaning on the door with her right hand. She feels the magic that exudes from the wood, and she recognizes it.
It's the same magic that protects her. The same magic that guards the doors to her rooms, the one that lives in the veil. It's comforting, it's dark, it's home, it's safety. She pushes the door further and walks inside the room. It's a study, illuminated solely by the night. Her eyes follow the large coils of the snake as it makes its path to a large window. There's a figure standing by it, facing away from her. Tall and lean, enveloped in dark robes that flow down from his shoulders, waving about his shape though there is no breeze. A bald head, made paler by the moonlight, eerily white, with blue veins that emerge from the robes an disappear into his scalp.
The figure turns to face her, twisting a bony wand in equally bony hands, caressing it with long fingers, in a gesture so familiar to her. She raises her eyes to his. Red. Pure red irises encircle dark slit pupils. The eyes she sees in her dreams so often, with none of the anger she knows they are capable of.
"My daughter, you have come." The hissing voice she is just as at ease with greets her. Welcomes her. She has no conscious memory of it, and yet she misses it. She smiles as she approaches him.
"Father," and there's reverence in her voice. She knows the world talks of a monster whenever they talk of Lord Voldemort, but she sees only the darkness that she calls home.
X
The next morning, Delphini walks to the breakfast table as if nothing has changed. She sits there, content, watching honey pour from the spoon onto her buttered toast, catching the last drizzle with her finger and putting it to her mouth with a naughty glint in her eyes. She knows better, but she also knows she can get away with it. Because she is home and they are family.
Narcissa is beyond herself with worry, sitting across her niece, incapable of eating. She does not know what to say. She is not afraid of Delphini, though she was the day before, but the possibility of a delayed reaction does not escape her mind.
Lucius won't even look Delphini in the eye. He wants to say something, he desperately does, but how does one go about apologising about lying if mentioning the lie might just get you killed? Above all else, he wants to speak before his wife has the chance. If anyone is dying because of this, it must be him.
Delphini is the one to break the ice, looking at them both over the rim of her glass of juice.
"It's fine. I know," she tells them, patting her lips with her napkin, "I know about your vow, and I know that you cannot talk to me about my Father. And it's fine." She gives them that one smile that could win over the world. The joyous glint in her eyes making it all the more charming.
Narcissa lets the tears she has been holding fall and says nothing. She could never express how relieved she is in that very moment. How happy she is that her almost daughter, her wondrous little witch, is not leaving the Manor this time.
Lucius reaches for Delphini's shoulder and squeezes it lightly.
"I'm sorry, sweet star of darkness, it's meant to keep you safe."
"I know, Uncle Lucius," she answers, nodding, "I would never hold it against you."
Enshrouded in the deepest crevice of her mind lies her plan. She knows exactly whom she'll hold it against.
X
N.12 Grimmauld Place, March 30th, 2013
"Harry, does she know?"
He is snapped out of his reveries by Hermione's voice. He came into the kitchen to make some tea and had obviously forgotten about it. The teapot sits empty on the tray, the cups remain on the shelf, and he is holding the tealeaves.
The tealeaves. He has a handful of them but seems incapable of dropping them into the strainer.
"I don't know, Hermione, I don't know. You should have seen her when we left. She shut off the world, completely. It was like looking at a porcelain doll."
"Have we made a huge mistake, Harry? Have we miscalculated this whole thing?"
"Maybe… I mean, Lestrange didn't tell her, for sure. You know he is bound by much more than magical vows. He would be dead and buried by now. But it's Delphini that we're dealing with. She is smart, she reminds me of you in a way." He trails off, too afraid to speak his mind.
"Why are you staring at the tealeaves, Harry?" Hermione has clearly had enough of his drifting mind, "Have you taken up Divination or something?"
"You never much cared for it, did you?" He scoffs, and then says in a whisper "She couldn't take Divination at Hogwarts, did you know that? Trelawney was scared stiff of her. She kept going on about her darkness for three days straight after the first class. Neville says it's better not to mention the incident around her at all. McGonagall told Delphini to choose another elective. She takes Arithmancy now."
All colour vanishes from Hermione's face. As little credit as she gives Divination, having a true Seer expel a child out of her classroom on account of the said child's darkness does not seem good. It's eerie when the girl in question was only thirteen at the time. It's rather ominous when the said girl happens to be the daughter of the most powerful Dark Lord to have ever risen. It's downright terrifying when she thinks of the girl's mother. Her hand mechanically rubs her scar.
Her rational mind shakes the dread off and starts analysing, processing all the information she has gathered so far. They need a plan. And a back-up plan. And probably a safe house, should things go awry.
"Harry, there's something we must do now. We absolutely have to tell them."
The determination is so fiercely etched onto her features that Harry is made to stand a little straighter. This is the Hermione that took charge during their years at Hogwarts, during those stressful months on the run, the practical, no nonsense, witch that planned and evaluated every tiny possibility. This is the witch that made sure both Ron and he came alive out of the war. Merlin knows they would have long been dead if it weren't for her.
"We've been postponing it for years, are you sure? I mean, we could wait until she goes back to Hogwarts. She'll have lessons with me, I can talk to her."
"Harry, we have to. Just in case this does not remain secret. You told me that Delphini didn't say a thing to you after Azkaban-"
"Lestrange is alive! So are the Malfoys!"
"You just told me she reminds you of me! Me! What would I do if I felt something was amiss? Upturn every library and every other possible source of information, that's what I'd do. I would find out! What if she does too?"
"Hullo," comes Ron's voice from the doorway, making them both jump, "is everything alright here? We heard you two from the room, and we have been waiting for the tea since Merlin was in diapers."
"Change of plans, Ronald," Hermione waves her wand and the teapot flies back to its place by the cups, "no tea. Let's get Ginny, there's something we need to discuss. All four of us."
The two men follow the resolute witch out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. Ginny comes downstairs with an amused smirk on her face.
The kids must be up to something, Harry thinks, just before his wife notices the dour look on his face.
"Harry James Potter, what is going on?"
X
King's Cross Station, April 1st, 2013
Delphini is eager to get on the train. She kissed Scorpius goodbye at home, not wanting to expose him to the crowd here. She doesn't like lying to him one bit, but he is too young to know of her secret. So she will do what she must, not what she wants. Their façade is but a frail web of lies, a castle of cards ready to tumble at the slightest disturbance.
Draco is here with her, a smug smile on his lips. They have talked, as much as they can risk, but mostly Delphini has been reassuring him of her untarnished love for her family. She smiles overtly when she bids him goodbye, thinking of the hug they shared the morning after Azkaban, and of how long she had stayed in his arms, felling his tears land on her curls.
She walks towards her friends, all chatting about the coming exams. She can hear Syrianna vehemently trying to convince Sigmund to adhere to a proper study plan. She means to join in, when she is brusquely pulled aside by her wrist before she can reach them.
Her wand is in her hand in the blink of an eye. Laws be damned, she will defend herself.
But the woman that pulls her to the shadow of a pillar shakes her head, and holds no wand of her own. There's a scowl in her face that robs her of beauty, but she has the good looks of old Pureblood. Brownish-blonde hair, pilled neatly on her head, clean cut features, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw, light eyes that bore into hers. The hand that still holds her wrist is soft, and the nails carefully kept, but the hand looks and feels like a claw.
"Stop staring at me like that, you must know who I am," the witch whispers to her, shaking her wrist, "they must have told you about me."
"Let go of me," her voice is a dangerous hiss, her wand scolding hot in her palm, now pointed at the witch's chest, "let go of me, before I hex you."
The witch's eyes go wide at her threat, but her hand remains. "You truly don't know. They never told you…"
Delphini is already casting a Knock-back Jinx sure to toss the stranger all the way to the wall when the witch removes her hand. She keeps her wand aimed at her chest.
"You have a role to fulfil. You were prophesized. You must… they must have told you by now. You alone can bring him back." The witch is now taking steps back from her, slowly, as if to avoid startling a wild creature.
"Madam Rowle, I did not expect to see you here. Escorting someone to the Hogwarts Express?"
Draco stands beside her, a hand on her forearm, lowering her wand, while his other arm surrounds her back and shoulders. A quick look down tells her to be at ease, that she is safe now.
"D-Draco," she hesitates, but her upbringing quickly rises to the challenge, "how are you? I hear you have a son, is he here too? I'd like to meet him."
"He is too young for Hogwarts, and no, you will not meet him. Neither today nor in the future. Good day, Madam Rowle, I'm afraid the train is departing and Delphini must be in it."
Delphini's eyes skip from Draco's composed face to Madam Rowle's shocked one. She is clearly the odd one out in this conversation, but she is covered in goose bumps at the mention of a prophecy about her.
"Walk away, Euphemia, now," Draco snarls, the informality of his address an obvious insult to the witch, mirrored on her expression immediately.
"They won't tell you girl, but you must learn. There's a reason you were born, and you'll meet a sticky end if you don't fulfil your part. The prophecy must be fulfilled!"
Draco's wand is digging into the vein on the side of her neck. The witch raises her hands, palms forward, and moves away from them, her eyes fixed on Delphini's.
"Draco? Who is she? What does that mean?" Her eyes won't stray from the retreating figure, now walking quickly away from the platform. Her hand is clutched around her wand, feeling it sear in her palm.
He gives her a painful look. "I cannot tell you, forgive me. It's not safe here," he holds her close and kisses the crown of her head, "forget about what she said, Delphini. It's not true and it cannot harm you if you leave it alone."
"You can't just ask me to let it go! Who is she?"
"Her name is Euphemia Rowle, her husband is in Azkaban. He was a Death Eater, she was a Healer. This is reckless, Delphini. We can't talk here."
"But she said something about a prophecy-"
"Delphini, do you trust me?" He holds her cheeks, turning her face slightly up. She nods, and he orders her, "Then board the train and forget about this. Go to Hogwarts, take your O.W.L.S, prank half the school, but leave this alone. I beg you."
"I'll let it go until the Summer, Draco, but you'll have to explain this all to me come July." The train whistles, loudly, steaming, sounding like a draft horse.
"I won't be able to tell you much, but yes, we will talk about this."
She squeezes the hand on her cheek, already turning to leave. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the deep sadness in his eyes. In that moment, she hates Potter and Granger, with all her might, for depriving her of so many things. Deep down, she hates them for depriving her of her parents.
She hops onto the train and leans against the carriage door. She watches the platform stay behind as the journey to Hogwarts begins slowly, as if the iron itself resents leaving. She surely does, watching the pain in Draco's face. But she will put this matter to rest at the back of her mind. She has a plan to set in motion.
X
Hogwarts, April 2013
Delphini climbs in her bed, getting comfortable beneath the blankets and adjusting her braid on the pillow. She no longer fears sleeping. Her personal potion stores sit replenished and unused in her trunk. She doesn't need to cast spells on the canopy of her bed to keep her screams and her tears silent. She is comforted by the cold in the Chamber, but it isn't a dire necessity now. It's a luxury she enjoys in solitude, in secret, but not a requirement for her well-being. Her dreams have retreated.
In reality, they have morphed. She still dreams of darkness, and shadows, and serpents, but the hissing in her dreams soothes her now, the dark is comfortable. She doesn't see herself holding a silvery haired family at the end of her wand anymore. She is no longer afraid of following the mighty snake into the study, she adores that dream now. Nothing really happens once she meets Lord Voldemort in it, but she cherishes the opportunity to observe, the ways in which her memory seems to have saved titbits of him. They share mannerisms, their wands are of the same wood, they hold themselves in the same way, moving with the ease and lightness of dancers. They are alike, and she does not fear it.
She has changed as well. Adjusting to her new reality comes effortlessly. It's an embracing of her darkness, of the deep undercurrent that runs in her veins. At first, she fears that her friends and her cousin will notice her change. She cannot risk having her secrets exposed, she will not provide them a breach, she will not have them destroy the carefully built web of lies that protects her family. So she makes sure to keep her façade without a blemish, applying yet another layer so that her plan remains concealed.
But her friends only notice that she seems better. They are happy for her, and they are quick to assume that Astoria was the reason behind her troubles. Radagast looks at her with something new in his eyes, something she has not had the chance of noticing. Freya rolls her eyes when she catches her brother looking at her friend like that, and Sigmund grins like an idiot every time. Syrianna hardly ever lifts her eyes from whatever she is studying, and Delphini adopts the same approach. It feels safer.
Teddy mocks her in good nature, walking down a corridor with her, telling her that having to bring her food was robbing him of time to study. Nudging her when he tells her of "that blond friend of yours" and of how concerned he looked too. She hits him with a book over his head, leaving jaws slacked at the gesture, reminding him that she is the one taking O.W.L.S this year and denying any guilt in the matter of his recent failures at Potions. Radagast goes unmentioned.
Among the madness of studying for the O.W.L.S, History of Magic provides them with the hardest challenge. They are studying the Wizarding Wars. For once, Professor Binns' dull tone is absolutely appropriate. The newspapers and the books tell the tales with passion, and rhythm, eager to set sides, to define right and wrong, those who conquered and those who failed. The droll voice delivers facts, dates, places, devoid of emotion, as if the war had not ended on these very grounds, underneath the magical ceiling of the Great Hall. For once, no one sleeps. The students are keenly aware that there are Death Eaters' children in the classroom, and Aurors' children, and fallen wizards and witches' children. They take in the harsh cold facts and it's easier this way. Not many families survived unharmed. The Muggleborns, the only ones that could wish for a more lively approach, are quick to pick on the mood, too. It is no small matter. They will all have to write essays on it for their exams, and being detached is the best way. Even at the mention of soul splitting and objects of legend that can fool Death.
Delphini uses the opportunity to analyse the wars. She picks her Father's choices apart, examining them to exhaustion. She feels as if she is learning from him this way. She likes to sit in the Chamber thinking on the battles, the ambushes, the near misses and the captures. She dwells on his failure long enough. Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows, such are the things that saw him undone.
Horcruxes are quickly set aside in her mind. Much too fickle, much too dangerous. But the Hallows… the Hallows have her adding a little something to her plan in absolutely no time. Even if she must bid it until the next D.A.D.A. lesson.
X
Hogwarts, May 9th 2013
It has been a long day of teaching for him. With the approaching exams, the students are high-strung and his classes are harder to control. Not to mention he is exhausted to start with. Ginny and Ron had been livid for days, and the only thing that kept the siblings from hexing both him and Hermione past the Veil was his solemn promise of using his privileged access to Delphini to ascertain the extent of her knowledge.
Harry is lost in his thoughts when he notices Delphini's slender figure leaning on a desk before him. He is not in the mood for a conversation at all, but he knows he must. If he has any hope of recovering a figment of peace between Ginny and him, he must.
"You know why I'm here, don't you?" Without as much as a "Professor" to soften her words, Delphini makes her mood clear as water. Her voice is cold, detached. Commanding even.
So she does know.
His only assurance comes from the fact that her true siring is still a secret, and those that know are bound to keep it so. All but for this girl, who happens to be much too clever to want it to be revealed. She knows the risks. And what he knows of her tells him that she will not risk losing her family to Azkaban, that she will not risk her own imprisonment.
"Why did you want me to stay with them? Why didn't you side with Hermione?"
Cutting right to the chase, I see. Well, it's only fair.
"Because I was raised by people who didn't want me, that didn't like me, and I could never wish that for anyone else."
"Even for Lord Voldemort's daughter?"
"Delphini, people might hear you!"
"I put a Muffliato on the door, they won't. You didn't answer me."
"No, Delphini, I would never wish harm on you."
X
She feels the anger rise within her, struggling to keep her eyes from blazing red, her hair from changing. This is not what she expected. She wanted a confrontation, an excuse to vent all of her frustration, her fury.
But Potter sits at his desk, apparently undisturbed, calm and perfectly composed. He seemed troubled when she entered the classroom, but whatever the matter was, it doesn't look like it pertained to her.
In a second, all of her careful planning is tossed to the wind. She had every intention of interrogating Potter. If her family cannot tell her, it's only fair he filled in the blanks. But all she can think is that her family risks death over a simple conversation because of what he did that day. That she is an orphan because of him.
"Sit down, Delphini, pull up a chair and I'll tell you what you want to know."
His ease is what drives her over the edge. Before she can stop herself, her wand is aimed at him. Still, he won't lose his composure. He merely raises his hands, pleading with her to be reasonable, assuring her that they can talk. He won't even consider raising his wand it seems.
"I don't want to talk, I don't have to." She keeps her voice cool, but allows her rage to burn freely inside. She gathers all of her magic, feeling her eyes and hair drift out of her control, and focuses it all in one single spell, one single word.
"Legilimens!" The incantation leaves her lips, the spell leaves her wand, and she is submerged in Potter's mind. She sees blurs of his life, moments she does not care for, memories of her father that she skims trough in a hurry. She focuses on the Battle, the memories keep dancing before her. In the distance, she can hear him scream, but she forces the sound out of her mind.
Then, she's there. In the Battle through Potter's eyes. In Hogsmeade. In the Forbidden Forest. She sees all and she keeps all. She is in the Great Hall now, watching the death of her Mother, listening to Potter's speech, seeing her Father tumble to the floor and lie there, unmoving. Then, she is suddenly at Malfoy Manor, amassing every detail of the sordid deal her family was coerced into.
Satisfied, she removes herself from his mind. She shouldn't have been able to do this, she was expecting resistance of some sort, but Potter is gasping on the floor right in front of her, hands clasped at the sides of his head, begging her to stop, to leave. She has seen enough to presume that he will not reveal this incident. The foolish wizard cares for her.
X
Delphini is alone in the Great Hall. It's late at night and Filch has been conveniently distracted by a bunch of non-existing curfew breakers via Peeves.
She stands there, where her parents perished. Taking in what happened so long ago. Fifteen years. It's been fifteen years and she was kept in the dark all along. She kneels on the floor, allowing her dress to spread around her. She puts her palms to the cold stone.
This is the place, exactly, where her Mother fell. She saw it in Harry's mind, she heard the thunderous scream of Lord Voldemort in there, too. She looks to the place where her Father succumbed as well.
She could swear she can still feel their magic, lingering, but it's probably her memories of it enveloping her. She misses that darkness around her, even though she barely remembers it, she misses how it comforted her. Her family loves her dearly, but that blanket of pure unbound magic is something she can only find when she is under the veil on her bed.
She remembers something else from Harry's memories. Her decision is made now, in this place she has grown to love and loathe in equal parts. She will take to the Forbidden Forest every night from now on. She will not rest until her goal is met.
Until they can be together again.
A flickering shape catches her eye, but does not startle her. She knows exactly what it is.
"You are exceedingly fond of breaking curfew, aren't you?" The Bloody Baron is floating next to her, the silver stains in his robes shimmering brighter in the light. She raises her eyes to him and nods.
"It's the only time I can be truly free. While everyone sleeps, I can do as I like."
"You mean in darkness…"
"What if I do?"
X
Hogwarts, May 18th, 2013
She tracks down the place where the Acromantulas once lived. Well, almost. The Acromantulas are wild things that enjoy the smell of her flesh and the perspective of a meal. With a few well-placed jinxes, she keeps the two who felt her approach at bay and retreats to the castle. The next morning, she is deep in a pile of books, gathering every bit of information on them. When she is through the books on her table and the sun is setting, she decides it's time for a visit to the kitchens to quench her hunger. Tomorrow she will take to the restricted section. Today, she'll over indulge in pumpkin juice with Teddy.
The Acromantulas' numbers are carefully monitored now. Hagrid attempted to regain their trust after the war, but they had suffered at the hands of wizards and witches from both sides of the Battle, which means they trust no one. Their original lair exposed, they now live deeper in the forest for the majority of the time. That does not mean they do not roam the rest of it. Every half a dozen years, a select group of magizoologists comes to Hogwarts for a week. They are allowed to capture as many as they can. It's no easy task, but on very good years, they leave with two dozen adults.
She decides to wait for that week. The Acromantulas will be particularly feisty and inclined to murder, but they will also move to the deeper parts of the woods, leaving their ancient lair free for her to search.
Slughorn has his classes from year 5 and up preparing potions for weeks. They are meant to put the Acromantulas to sleep, to stun them or to maim them. Whatever may help the magizoologists in their capture is fair game. Delphini has been brewing more potions for extra credit. And so that she can slip a couple of vials away.
She has also been spending more time with some of her older house mates. Those taking Care of Magical Creatures at years 6 and 7 are allowed to participate in the hunt. Those taking Potions will be gathering supplies from the spiders. There is useful information being discussed openly in the Common Room, that she can verify over informal talking in her classes. There are extra classes on defensive spells that may prove useful and the Slytherins practice them freely in their rooms. Her plan is quickly put together.
She has an entire week. Seven nights. She can check that clearing inch by inch until she finds her prize.
The Stone.
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Forbidden Forest, May 30th, 2013
She finds the Stone on the third night. She knows it's too risky to try and use it here now. She also knows that she is supposed to turn it three times in her hand, but she would rather not touch it at all before. She is afraid she won't be able to stop herself. Her heart is already racing like a horse let loose on a field. Her breathing is shallow and fast, and not nearly enough to keep her mind steady. Her hands twitch and sweat. Her eyes find it hard to stay focused and keep looking at everything, as if they can't endure the sight of her prize.
She puts on her velvet gloves and raises the stone from the ground with both hands, holding it as if she were gathering water in her palms. She is light headed for a moment. She has the Resurrection Stone.
She cradles it in her hands amongst the soil that has kept it hidden for over a decade. The grounds of Hogwarts kept its secret and she alone unveiled it. There's thrill at that thought, a rush through her veins, a happiness she could not express in words even if it's written all over her face.
Delphini allows the moist dirt to fall through her fingers, keeping only the engraved, dark gem. She presents it to the moonlight that reaches her in between the trees. She studies the symbol for a while. A triangle holding a circle ran through by a line. A cloak she has no need or desire for. A wand she could never want. But a stone she has yearned for all her life, she realizes now.
She closes her right hand around it, holding it tight. She pulls her glove off around it, holding the bundle of velvet in her left hand as she does the same to her left glove too. Then she tucks it away in her robes, close to her hearth.
She runs to the very edge of the forest, feeling the thrill and the wind, laughing carelessly under the moon and the night, rejoicing in the cold at her skin and at the magic in her blood. She knows she should take care to not being noticed by the creatures of the forest, but she couldn't care less. She brakes just before the last trees, pushing her feet into the ground, giggling when her curls go over her head, covering her almost feverishly bright eyes.
She feels the vial of Draught of Peace in her pocket, and knows she needs it if she is to make it to the castle, and into the dungeons, unnoticed, unseen and unpunished. But she likes this feeling, this sheer exhilaration, so Delphini shrugs her shoulders and casts a Disillusionment spell on herself. She is so giddy she isn't even sure it's properly in place before she takes off again.
She keeps running and running, and doesn't stop until she is at the shore of the lake, both feet in the impossibly cold water, clutching the little lump in her robes, watching her reflex in the dark water, under the moon.
Her eyes are grey.
Author's Notes: What's this? A new chapter before an entire month has passed? Not too shabby.
There is a lot going on in this chapter, so I'd love to know what you think. Feel free to write away and suggest things. It was one of your reviews that prompted me to include Euphemia, because I needed a way to bring the prophecy into the storyline but I wasn't sure on the how.