Chapter Eight: The End and the Beginning
The other teachers arrived shortly after she did. Dumbledore quickly assessed the room. McGonagall was dispatched to get the Aurors, Harry and Daphne were taken away by Professor Flitwick to the Hospital Wing, but not before Mad-Eye Moody was replaced by another man, a man Harry told her later was Barty Crouch Junior.
The Hospital Wing was as bleak as Daphne had expected. Potions were shoved down their throats. Harry was kept under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey for longer than either of them wanted. They both sat in stony silence, waiting for the old matron to finally give them some peace.
"You holding up okay?" Daphne asked Harry when Pomfrey finally left them both alone. She'd covered his leg in a weird paste that smelled like sardines, but his arm had already healed. She insisted they both stay there for the night and refused to listen to Harry's objections, stating quite plainly that she wouldn't let him leave whether he liked it or not.
"No," that was fair enough. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing that you just got up and walked away from. "I saw my parents."
"What?" Daphne blinked, trying not to sound too incredulous. Magic was one thing but you couldn't bring people back from the dead. Some things were just impossible.
"In the graveyard, after he'd come back, after Pettigrew chopped his hand off." Pettigrew? Pettigrew was dead. Black had killed him, right? Pettigrew was alive? For once, Daphne kept her mouth shut. Every word that spilled from Harry's mouth felt disjointed and jarring, filled with pain and grief.
"We were duelling," of course they were, God she wished he wasn't such a Gryffindor sometimes. "And our wands. They kind of connected. I dunno. But they were there, for a moment." Tears were pooling in his eyes. "First it was Cedric, then these two other people and…" his voice cracked. "My parents."
"Did they say anything?" There was no point arguing how insane it sounded. You-Know-Who was back, Death Eaters laughed while Harry was tortured on the bones of the Dark Lord's father and he'd barely escaped with his life. Seeing visions of his parents, real or otherwise, wasn't something to quibble over.
"They just told me to get to the portkey," Harry muttered, "they stopped him… from getting to me, helped me…" he trailed off. "It's my fault. Cedric. He's dead because of me. I told him to take the cup, if I hadn't…"
"You didn't kill him, Harry," Daphne insisted, "that was You-Know-Who."
"Voldemort. His name's Voldemort."
It took everything she had not to wince at the sound of the name. It was stupid. Pathetic even. But he didn't get it. He never could. He wasn't raised in a world where no-one said the name. It wasn't just fear, it was so much more than that. Her parents, her family, the stranger in a pub, the seller in a bookstore, the waiting staff, the party guests, friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone, literally everyone didn't say it. If they couldn't, how could she?
But how had he faced You-Know-Who? How had Harry dragged Cedric's body back? How had Harry gone into the maze a Champion and left still able to even talk? If he could do all of that, she could say a stupid name.
"V… Vol…" oh, get a grip, "Voldemort." God, that was weird."Killed Cedric, Harry. Not you. I promise. You have to believe that, if you do anything tonight, please believe that."
He nodded slowly, but she doubted he was actually hearing her. They were interrupted by an entire host of people and, rather bizarrely, a large black dog. Dumbledore. The Minister of Magic. Mrs. Weasley. Bill. Ron. Hermione. Professor Snape, who regarded Daphne with thinly veiled intrigue and contempt all at once. And, rounding up the group, a very belligerent looking Tracey and Astoria, her usually pretty face pinched with concern.
"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey shouted, bustling up to the curious party. "I must insist that you all depart at once, these students need rest."
"Poppy, I assure you, that as soon as we have been able to speak to Harry and Miss Greengrass for just a moment, we will leave them to rest." He held up a hand before the elderly matron could object, "I am quite aware of their ordeal, but myself and the Minister must speak to Harry. It is of the utmost importance and I truly believe that if Harry is to recover from this evening's events, he would not do well to ignore the pain any longer."
"But the students -"
"Will be leaving shortly," Dumbledore said calmly, "I simply wanted to extend them the courtesy of seeing their friends were -"
"And family," Astoria chimed in hotly.
"And family," Dumbledore corrected himself, the hint of a smile beneath his snowy-white beard, "were alright."
Tracey, Ron, Hermione and Astoria weren't allowed to stay very long, but Daphne was glad to see them. If only to assure them she was okay. They, Mrs. Weasley - who no longer regarded Daphne with the look of a woman who wanted to kill a random fifteen-year-old - and Bill, were ushered out by the school's matron along with the others. That left Professor Snape, the Minister of Magic, who was thumbing his bowler hat nervously, Dumbledore and the large shaggy black dog who was stationed by Harry's side, eyes transfixed on Fudge.
"This had better be worth my time, Dumbledore!" The Minister snapped. "Insisting that I come and see a fourteen-year-old boy when there's a killer in your office. And as for refusing to allow the Dementors to do their job -"
"Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly, "you know as well as I that the Dementors would prevent Barty's son from providing testimony, testimony that could help us to find Barty himself. I implore you, if you only heed my advice one final time, to listen to what Harry has to say."
The Minister looked as though he wanted to explode. Every second proved to Daphne why her father never got on with Fudge. He was a spineless weasel just looking for a way out. Trying to get Dementors. Honestly. What moron would do that?
"Fine. But only - Merlin's beard - fine."
"Harry," Dumbledore began, the dog had edged close to Harry, putting his muzzle onto his hand as if to protect him from Dumbledore. "I know that you have shown tremendous courage this evening and what I am about to ask of you will not seem a kindness, but I must ask it nevertheless. Could you please inform the Minister and myself what you saw tonight? Spare no detail, no matter how small."
Behind him, the Minister scoffed but Dumbledore ignored him. "I must ask you, please, to tell us what happened."
"You can't be serious." Daphne wasn't even aware she'd said it until the Minister, Harry and Dumbledore turned to her. "He's just watched Cedric Diggory be murdered."
"Murdered?" The Minister echoed. "My dear, Cedric Diggory wasn't murdered. It was a terrible -"
"Accident?" Daphne finished.
"Precisely," Fudge smiled, missing Daphne's sarcasm either because he wanted to or because he was a complete idiot.
"It wasn't an accident," Harry said, far more loudly and confidently than he'd been since returning from that graveyard. "Lord Voldemort killed him."
There was silence for a moment. Not the kind that Daphne was used to, the natural kind that is filled by all sorts of background noises. This was total and complete, as the entire world seemed to stand still. The Minister goggled at Harry, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.
"Preposterous. You…" The Minister let out a nervous warbling laugh, "you expect me to stand and listen to this… this… invention, Dumbledore?"
"I do," Dumbledore said gravely, "if you wish to ignore Harry's warnings, that is, of course, your prerogative. But I implore you, Cornellius, to listen."
"Listen? Listen? Are you mad, Dumbledore?"
Daphne had had enough of this. It wasn't his words, or even his incredulity. This was ridiculous. It was impossible. It was his laugh and the light that left Harry's eyes. Harry, who had already given up so much. Harry, who had lost any childhood he was ever going to have in one evening. Harry, who was still fighting, tooth and claw, to even be there. If he wasn't going to say anything, then she would.
"Then what do you think happened?" Daphne snapped, her already thinning patience beyond breaking point. "That Cedric Diggory tripped and fell on a killing curse out of nowhere? That Harry killed him?" The Minister spluttered. "Of course, he didn't. He's trying to tell you who did. So, just shut up and listen."
"Now see here -"
She'd just told the Minister of Magic to shut up. Like he was a child. The familiar sense of her actions catching up with her surrounded Daphne, but she ignored it. She didn't care. Sometimes, very rarely, running her mouth off was actually important and this was one of them.
"What I believe Miss Greengrass is trying to say, Minister," Dumbledore said quietly, his authoritative voice able to diffuse any situation it seemed, "is that there is more at play here than a simple accident. You were involved in the creation of the maze. You know as well as I that no creature in that maze was capable of such destruction."
"Then it was Crouch!" Daphne couldn't stop the disgruntled scoff that escaped her lips. The Minister looked like he wanted to explode.
"When he was disguised as Alastor Moody, he was patrolling the maze," Dumbledore said, before Daphne could point this out herself. "There are external forces at play here. Please. Listen."
"Very well," Fudge snapped, making it plain that he didn't want to do anything of the sort. "But I shan't be kept long, Dumbledore. Crouch will be taken to justice."
"On that, we agree," Dumbledore nodded, "now, Harry. If you could please tell us what happened."
The story was the worst Daphne had ever heard. She wasn't sure when she took his hand, but by the end of it Harry was holding it tighter than she thought possible. If she thought her heart had broken before, it was now unrecognisable. To his credit, Fudge did not interrupt, such were the sincerity of Harry's words that it was impossible to doubt their authenticity. Whether or not the Minister would think he was mad was another question, but no-one could deny that Harry believed every word he said. She knew he kept some bits out, judging both by Dumbledore's expression and the fact he didn't mention his parents. But the names of the other Death Eaters were too specific to be made up. Did he even know Avery? McNair? Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, sure, but the others? She noticed Pettigrew didn't get a mention.
Thoughts of Sirius Black's former friend died as Daphne listened to how Harry had duelled You-Know-Who. How he had survived, how he had the will to keep going, to keep fighting, Daphne had no clue. It made everything she'd ever worried about seem so stupid. What was Malfoy compared to Voldemort? Even her run-in with Moody, which the Minister hoarsely asked her about when Harry got to that point, felt like nothing.
"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said, once Harry had finished his story. "And you too, Miss Greengrass. What you have both done tonight took tremendous courage." Daphne hadn't done anything, but she nodded all the same, she just wanted them to leave. "Minister, you see now why I must ask that the Dementors are only summoned once the Auror Office has been able to draw their own conclusions? Believe as you must, but you cannot deny, that Harry's account is exactly the same as Barty Crouch Junior's."
"There are similarities," Fudge conceded. "I will think about it, Dumbledore."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, smiling amiably as though they were discussing the weather. He summoned Madam Pomfrey and asked if she would check on Barty Crouch Junior, before he and the Minister bade them good night and, just as Daphne was about to ask Harry if he was okay, did she get the second biggest shock of life. All in one evening.
"Harry!"
"What?" He wheeled around, looking at what she was pointing at. "Oh. No, it's okay. Really. Daph. It's okay. He's innocent."
"Innocent, my arse. That's Sirius Black!"
"I prefer just Sirius," Black said with a wry smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Nice to meet you, I'm Harry's godfather."
This was too much. She tried fumbling for her wand, but all she managed to do was knock over the potions that Pomfrey had left for them. They smashed loudly on the floor, foul smells drifting up from under her bed as they met the cold stone floor. That meant her brain could do the only thing left, try and catch up. "Godfather?"
"Yep," Black confirmed, he wasn't attacking her. In fact, he wasn't attacking Harry either. His hand was on Harry's shoulder. Not pulling him away. Not yanking him off to You-Know-Who. He was supporting him. This could not be happening. This was. He was. Her brain shut down. Restarted, tried to grasp what was going on and leaped to the only logical conclusion there could be. If this was the Sirius Black she knew, then Harry would be running for the hills or cursing him where he stood. But he wasn't. If anything, he was leaning on Black.
"Peter Pettigrew killed them, the muggles," Harry explained, "that's why he was there, tonight. He's been helping Voldemort."
"Should've let me kill him when I got the chance," Black said darkly.
"When you -"
"Last year," Black answered, "he escaped the Grounds just before the Ministry caught me. Harry's the reason I escaped, fought off about a hundred Dementors at once to do it too." He gave his godson a fond look, while Daphne mentally parked that as something to talk about later. "I've been on the run ever since."
"Your dad," Daphne breathed, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place. "You said he was an animagus, this is how you know, isn't it?" How had she not realised sooner? Even her dad had told her Black was friends with James Potter. That's how he'd got out of Azkaban. "All of you. You looked after Lupin. Harry's dad was a stag. You were a dog. Pettigrew?"
"A rat," Harry supplied.
"Ron's pet rat. Scabbers." Black added. "I knew he'd go back to his old ways. Always was a coward." He sighed, sweeping his long black hair out of his gaunt face. He fixed Daphne with those cold black eyes. "I take it you're not going to have me arrested now?"
"No, I don't think so," Her brain was a war ground of childhood stories of Sirius Black and just sheer overwhelming exhaustion. You-Know-Who was back. Harry had fought him. She'd stunned a Death Eater. Why wouldn't Sirius Black be innocent? What next, Fudge was You-Know-Who in disguise? Dumbledore had secretly been a muggle hater?
"Good enough," Black said, shooting a quick glance at the door. He sat down on Harry's bed, the springs creaking loudly as he did so. "Look, Harry. I haven't got long. No doubt they'll send Aurors up here to question you, both of you. So keep your stories straight, remember what you tell them. They'll be looking for any excuse not to believe you."
They both nodded, who else better to take advice from than the supposedly wrongly accused Sirius Black. This was barmy.
"He'd have been proud of you tonight, Harry. Your father. They both would." For the first time that even evening, Harry smiled. It wasn't really a true one, not the kind Daphne had grown so used to, but it was something. "For what it's worth, so am I. To survive what you have, most fully grown wizards wouldn't have managed it."
"Thanks, Sirius."
Black, or rather Daphne supposed she should start thinking of him as Sirius, squeezed Harry's shoulder and then let go. It was strange, to see the man from the wanted posters being so… kind. Daphne had fretted about the Weasleys, imagining that Mrs Weasley was his stand-in family, and they kind of were, but looking at Sirius, it was clear where Harry thought his family was.
"It was good to meet you finally," Sirius said to Daphne, although his eyes never left Harry's face. "Shame it couldn't be under better circumstances."
"I'm sorry," Daphne said, more for Harry's benefit than Sirius's, "about earlier."
"Don't be, you weren't to know."
"Where will you go?"
"For now, nowhere. Only a handful of people know about Snuffles." He paused, expecting some kind of question perhaps. People often did. She was too preoccupied worrying about Harry to indulge in pointless discussions of obvious names for his animagus form. "The dog."
"I figured."
The shadow of a smirk pulled at his thin lips, "after. I don't know. That depends on what Fudge does. And what Dumbledore wants."
"Do you think he believes us, Sirius?" Harry asked.
"I don't know." He sounded utterly defeated, but it was better than lying to him, like all of the others would. Even Dumbledore with his twinkling smile and calmness, would lie and say it would be alright. Sirius was evidence enough that it wasn't always okay. The good guys didn't always win. "I wish I could say he was going to, but he's scared. They all will be. It's just like it was last time," a shadow fell across his face. "I'm not going to lie to you, Harry, this won't be easy. But we have something we didn't have last time. Warning. Before we were scrambling, trying to get anyone and everyone we could to fight but it was already an uphill battle. Now, well, now we know he's back."
"And what do we do?"
"What we can," Sirius said simply. "But don't worry about that now, you two need some rest. I'll be right here if you need me." He reached forward and gripped Harry's hand, offering him a hard smile before stepping back and transforming into the great black dog.
"Me too," Daphne said quietly, "if you need anything, just let me know. A chat, a hug, an escaped Death Eater blasting by a door," he gave her a watery something that was the closest she knew she'd get to a laugh, "I'm right here."
"Thanks, Daph."
"You don't need to thank me," Daphne assured him. She moved from her bed and climbed onto his, intending to stay for a moment, to just give him a quick kiss or a small hug. But the moment the bed springs sagged at her arrival, he pulled her towards him and neither of them moved until morning. She wasn't sure when he finally managed to go to sleep, but thanks to the dreamless sleep potions, neither of them had any nightmares. Not yet, anyway.
She had expected it to end there. She expected that Fudge, being the useless politician he was, would try and sweep it all under the carpet. And he did, for a time. Sure he sent Aurors in to talk to them in the morning, but it was just the usual guff and asked with clear scepticism. The Prophet didn't mention who won (despite Harry being chucked a bucket load of galleons by the Minister). He wanted to ignore it all. And he might've done. In fact, if Daphne hadn't been the one to stop Crouch Junior from killing Harry, that might have been that.
But the moment Daphne's father heard what had happened, that was never going to happen. Matthias Greengrass, for all his jokes and his jovial manner, was, after all, good friends with Amelia Bones. They'd been on the Wizengamot for years together and her father was one of those people who just managed to make unlikely friendships wherever he went.
And so, instead of a hushed-up, quiet end to term, Daphne and Harry were questioned by Aurors. More than once.
They visited the castle, a kind-faced woman called Tonks and a man called Dawlish. They dragged Harry and Daphne into Dumbledore's office, which was a surreal experience in itself. The Headmaster was there as Harry's guardian in their place of his Aunt and Uncle, who Dumbledore blithely informed the Aurors Harry's family wouldn't be appearing, while Daphne's mother and father showed up for her.
"I still can't believe they interviewed you without us being there," Daphne's father seethed, having taken her to one side following the tedious questions. It was a bone of contention for her father that Daphne and Harry had been questioned at all without adult supervision. There were laws against that stuff, but what good were laws when a seventeen-year-old boy died at the hands of a long-dead Dark Lord. Merlin's beard, even thinking it sounded ridiculous. "Imagine if I'd done that to the Minister's kids. Not that he has any. But if he had, Merlin…" he blew out his frustrations, noticing that Daphne hadn't said anything for the last five minutes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just, you know, worried."
"About Harry."
It wasn't exactly difficult to work out. Her father glanced over at Harry, who was trying his best to sustain a conversation with Daphne's mother over by Dumbledore's desk. He could barely keep up, his eyes seemed to come in and out of focus. All she wanted to do was to go and hug him, to tell him it was going to be alright. But was it? How could she even say that? How could anyone? This was beyond all of them, yet here they were, dealing with it anyway.
"We'll look out for him," Daphne's father assured her. "I promise, pumpkin." He only ever called her that when he wanted to show her he really loved her. "If you want him over in the summer or he just needs someone to talk to, he's always got a place with us."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Ah, don't mention it. Someone's got to help him and those muggles…" he trailed off, letting out a sigh. It was strange, to see his usually jovial face lined with so much worry. After a moment, he seemed to park whatever thoughts were troubling him, dragging,if not his usual smile, then something like it, onto his face. "Well, that doesn't matter. He's got you, and you've got us. So we'll get through this together, alright? That goes for both of you, it can't have been easy."
"No," Daphne admitted, "it wasn't."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"Me too."
Daphne wished that was that. But there were, of course, more questions. The severe Rufus Scrimgeour insisted she and Harry answer summons to the Ministry. They were repeatedly asked if they were lying, if it could have been anything else. They repeatedly stuck to their story, whether asked apart or together. Daphne repeated everything she had heard, about the graveyard, about Barty Crouch Junior's plan to kill Harry and take him back to You-Know-Who. Amelia Bones herself did the final round of questioning. That had been a barrel of laughs.
An official investigation was launched and Barty Crouch Junior would be put on trial. Again.
The Prophet ran with the story. Skeeter interviewed a few students, but their words could never really do what happened that night justice. There were calls for Dumbledore to be named Minister, to take the fight to You-Know-Who. It was insane. Utterly insane.
"She tried to get me to talk to her," Harry said when Daphne had scornfully thrown the Prophet down in disgust. They were hidden away in the first-floor classroom, away from prying eyes. Hermione, Ron and Tracey would pop in occasionally. Blaise and Astoria always sent their best, but didn't want to pry. Tracey was only welcomed because of Daphne.
"If it wasn't Skeeter, I'd say do it," Daphne sighed, "shame mum never carried it on. She was a journalist, back in Italy. It's how she met my dad. She was covering the," the memory escaped her, it happened a lot these days. Lack of sleep would do that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. Slept. Not been unconscious. "Whatever it was."
That sparked a thought, the thought a conversation, and the conversation a chain of events that neither she nor Harry really saw coming. But that would come later.
For now, Daphne simply did what Sirius had told them to do. What she could. Harry wasn't ready to talk, he mentioned it occasionally but didn't ever truly open up. Daphne couldn't blame him, but she could be there for him. And as the sun set, orange light desperately trying to filter into the small classroom as it was slowly replaced by gloom, she made a promise that she would never turn her back on him.
Whether the muggles liked it or not, she was going to make sure of one thing, that Harry wasn't alone this summer.
End of Year Four -
AN: So that's the end of year four. Year five will start soon, but I'll be taking a short break to return to If Not For Umbridge. As mentioned this is a story designed to be a little light relief, to put smiles on peoples' faces and to just be enjoyed. Due to HP canon there will be chapters like this where we come across darker themes, but canon will be changing soon enough. I just wanted to reassure you that this will remain light-hearted for the most part.
I also plan on the chapters having larger time gaps now that the relationship between Harry and Daphne has been established. Although I just enjoy writing this and being with them, so who knows! However, this was always intended as small trips into their lives, rather than a full-blown epic tale and I think that's really going to pay off later down the line.
I'd just like this opportunity to thank you all for reading. I really appreciate all your kind words and feedback and I'm really glad that you like this take on Daphne. As she's essentially an OC, I wanted to move away from the typical tropes that have become connected to her, but to also grow her beyond those initial insecurities and panics as the story develops.
But that's enough from me, I hope you all enjoy and have a fab rest of your day.