Tenth chapter of the second year. My editing is seriously making these chapters longer; this one's up by about seven hundred words. Unsure of how I feel about the way the final scene is written, but I suppose it gets the job done.
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Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Riddle's Plight
X. By the Bedside Table
"Absolutely not, Harry. I won't allow it."
Harry crawled back into bed with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he scrawled out a quick message.
The new year had come and gone, and with it arrived the hundreds of Hogwarts students. Blankets of snow carpeted the grounds, but the air - both inside and out - felt far from cold. A sort of warm happiness wafted about; Harry could feel it coiling around him with every step he took.
There hasn't been an attack in months now, too. That definitely helps.
Nott and Daphne seemed happier as well. He could see it in the way they sat, and in their expressions, and sometimes in their eyes, too.
Harry frowned.
I've still got to work on my Legilimency.
"I will eventually." he murmured quietly, pulling the diary closer, "Just not now. It's too late, anyway."
It was unfortunate that neither Nott nor Daphne had come back with anything about the Chamber of Secrets. They'd both asked, of course. Daphne's father didn't seem to know much about it at all, and as for Nott's grandfather -
"He definitely knows something." Nott had said firmly upon returning to the castle, "He won't admit it directly, but he's basically done so."
"Surely he said something?" Harry had replied, but Nott had simply shaken his head.
"He only said to stay out of the way." Nott had glanced at both him and Daphne, lowering his voice, "He said that so long as I stay out of the way, I've got nothing to worry about . . ."
Harry squirmed beneath his bedsheets, turning to face his window. The deep, dark green currents of the Great Lake cast a faint glow across his features.
He hadn't told either of them what little he knew. Bits and pieces of information had pressed against the confines of his mind, whispering in his ears - but the thoughts were all so confused, so jumbled, and so hard to understand -
"It can't be Hagrid." Harry turned again, staring up at the ceiling of his dormitory. A faint, viridescent glow sat behind the many shadows, "He just wouldn't do it."
But that means Emily's lying.
Harry frowned.
Or she's wrong. Maybe she just made a mistake.
But that didn't sound right, either. The girl within the diary was clever, smooth, and almost always right.
"It doesn't matter." Harry murmured quietly, "There hasn't been an attack in months . . ."
But they still keep watching me. Like the moment they all look away I'll pounce.
But the students of Hogwarts had other things on their minds now. Upcoming Quidditch matches, piles and piles of homework, and the fact that Hermione Granger was still in the Hospital Wing for a reason no one could quite agree on. The eye of his mind flickered, and thoughts pooled into a memory from not too long ago.
The faint image of a boy with dirty-blonde hair flashed through his mind, skipping down the Great Hall with his hands up high. His lips curved open, and he shrieked again and again, "It's Potter, it's Potter - he tried to do her in when everyone was out of the castle!"
Harry grit his teeth.
If Dumbledore hadn't told everyone it was a Potion Accident, I might have tried to do Ernie in for real.
At least Emily had been sympathetic.
"I myself wouldn't mind having a go at him." she had said after Harry had shown her his memory of the event.
But despite Ernie's claims, yells, and shouts, Harry had not done anyone in recently, and the Heir of Slytherin hadn't either. The sudden halt of a attacks had proved an unexpected challenge - it was infinitely more difficult to solve the riddle that was the Chamber of Secrets - but the benefits were far more rewarding.
No more reason to worry. I can sneak out at nights again.
It had been ages since Harry had done so. The memories of the previous year, when he would so often roam the halls unperturbed, casting spells in the dark, grew more dull as the days and nights went by. The longing only grew each time he opened his trunk; his Invisibility Cloak sat neatly in amongst his belongings, looking thoroughly unused.
Emerald eyes slid down to the diary's surface, and he sighed in resignation.
"You shouldn't be sneaking out at night. It's still dangerous - there hasn't yet been a definitive end to the Chamber of Secrets debacle. You're not sneaking out, Harry."
He had read those words before many times now. They still caused his stomach to flip irritably - but an idea had once floated through his mind, and ever since he had voiced it, the tightening of his chest had lessened.
Harry smirked, dipping his quill in ink and writing again.
"Fine." he wrote pointedly, pulling the sheets over his head, "But a deal's a deal."
The diary twitched, and Harry grinned cheekily.
"I don't know very many stories. I'll run out, eventually."
"Then I'll start sneaking out, eventually." replied Harry.
Probably not. But she doesn't need to know that.
The diary twitched again. Harry could practically feel the girl within the diary roll her eyes.
"Or I could tell you that story you told me." scribbled the diary impatiently, "The one with that muggle girl and her fairy godmother - Cinderella, wasn't it?"
Harry paled, grimacing.
"That'd only make me leave faster."
"Fine." wrote Emily, her inky words neat and familiar, "A story for your oh so precious time . . ."
It had become a sort of unofficial evening routine between the two, one that had been upheld since New Year's Eve. The stories, both magical and muggle tales, were often interesting enough to keep Harry from sneaking out.
And even if they weren't, I'd stay. It's a nice feeling.
The diary shimmered, and dozens of words appeared upon its surface at once.
"Millenia ago, three brothers traveled down a lonely, winding road at twilight -"
"Couldn't they apparate?"
"They didn't know where they were going, Harry," Emily wrote, "and even if they did, it's just a story."
"Right, sorry."
"After some time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. But these brothers were magical, just as you and I. With a wave of their wands, a bridge appeared, connecting one end of the split road to the other. They continued forward, but before they could finish crossing they found their path blocked by a hooded figure."
"How'd the hooded person apparate onto the bridge?" asked Harry indignantly, "They can't have known it existed -"
"The figure was Death, Harry." Emily's neat writing covered the page, "And it's a story. Now be quiet and listen.
"Death was angry that he had been cheated out of the three new victims; many had drowned in the river, and he was not pleased that the three brothers were not amongst their number. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers, and offered them each a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.
"The oldest brother, a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence, a wand that brought death to all that found themselves before it. So Death fashioned a wand from an elder tree on the banks of the river and handed it to the oldest brother.
"The second brother, an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and so he asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, telling him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.
"Finally, Death turned to the third brother. The youngest brother, a humble and wary man, did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.
"Eventually, the three brothers reached a fork in the road, and each set off for their own destination.
"The first brother traveled on for a week more. He arrived in a distant village and immediately sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Elder Wand in hand, the brother bathed the man in his own blood. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself.
"That very night, another wizard, one greedy and weak, crept upon the oldest brother as he lay drunken upon his bed. The thief took the wand and for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.
"And so Death took the first brother for his own.
"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. He took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the form of a girl appeared before him. She was his past lover, the girl he had once hoped to marry, but Death had taken her from him many years ago.
"But although she was back by his side, she was sad and cold, separated from him as though by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. The second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her.
"And so Death took the second brother from his own.
"But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. He gladly surrendered himself to Death, and they departed from this life as equals."
Harry watched as the final paragraph faded away, a curious expression upon his face.
"That was the best one yet." he admitted at last, "What's it called?"
"The Tale of the Three Brothers. I first heard it when I was about your age."
"What about the objects?" a thoughtful expression overtook his face, "Are they real?"
"The Deathly Hallows?" asked Emily, pausing, "I'm not sure. I was always more intrigued by the message."
"What's that?"
"It depends, I think. What do you think it is, Harry?"
Harry thought in silence, eventually scratching his quill against the yellow pages.
"That there isn't a reason to fear death." he wrote stiffly, "That the only deaths to be afraid of are untimely ones."
Seconds swirled past as he sat in silence. By the time they reached two dozen, Emily had responded.
"Perhaps you're right." she wrote, though Harry had a feeling she didn't really believe that, "I simply find it to be curious. The first brother wished to bestow death, the second wished to reverse death, and the third wished to evade it. Yet all three of the wizards succumbed to death in time, did they not?"
"They did." Harry agreed slowly.
"I wondered," continued Emily, "If none of them could evade death, could anyone?"
Harry frowned.
Ten minutes later, he lay still in his bed, his arms wrapped around his pillow as he looked through the window and into the Great Lake. The diary sat upon his bedside table, untouched.
She can.
The woman with scarlet eyes flashed within his mind, an endless ocean of power swirling around her.
She can escape it. At least for a while.
Thoughts whirled up in his head, and he frowned again.
But she wouldn't have been after the Sorcerer's Stone if she could.
"The stone stops people from aging." Harry murmured to herself, "But they can still die, they can still be killed -"
Maybe she can't be killed. Perhaps that's her solution.
Harry grimaced. A soft, emerald light twinkled in his eyes, something barely noticeable as he fell asleep beneath the eerie green glow of the Great Lake.
-(xXx)-
"On the count of three then." called a stern, brisk voice from the front of the classroom, "One - two - three!"
A plethora of indiscernible incantations rang through the Transfiguration classroom. Several jets of light ricocheted off the windows as the students wildly waved their wands, but little else seemed to happen. Most of the goblets that sat before the many second years remained still, untouched and unchanged.
Harry glanced down at the golden goblet he had been presented with. It was smaller now, and it wiggled a bit, raising either its head or tail up into the air.
Not a bad worm for a first attempt.
Professor McGonagall strode across the room, shaking her head every now and then.
"Focus, Longbottom." she snapped, gazing with narrowed eyes at the boy's worm-coloured goblet, "This is not something you will achieve with a distracted mind."
Neville muttered a half-hearted apology, but McGonagall did not stick around to hear it. She passed through the Gryffindors and towards the Slytherins, occasionally providing the students with advice.
"Remember, the incantation is 'Vermiculus'. Be sure to enunciate it well -"
She faltered, her eyes landing upon Harry's worm. Harry looked up. Their eyes met - Harry felt a faint touch of pride - and he was graced with a thin-lipped smile.
"Five points to Slytherin." said Professor McGonagall, coming closer to Harry's desk, "You should be proud, you know." she added quietly, "Your father, troublesome though he was, was likely the best Transfiguration student I ever taught. I think he'd be pleased to hear it's you giving him a run for his money."
An image flashed through his mind - a younger version of the man he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised, the one who looked so much like him.
Stop. Out, out -
Harry looked a way. The man with the ruffled hair and the deep brown eyes disappeared at once.
Harry slowly turned back to Professor McGonagall. She was stood just before him, her head ducked and a palm to her forehead.
"Er - are you okay, Professor?"
She nodded slowly.
"Nothing more than a fleeting headache." she looked up, her hand sliding down to her hips, "Back to work, then - you won't be able to keep up with your father for long if you don't."
She smiled faintly, turning away. Harry watched uncertainly as McGonagall walked back towards the front of the classroom.
She doesn't know any Occlumency. If she knew even a little she would've felt it.
But why didn't she?
Harry frowned, turning back to his worm. He watched as it squiggled its way across his desk.
Emily must have been right. It isn't a very common skill.
Uncommon was an understatement in Harry's opinion. He could count on one hand the number of people capable utilizing the mind arts -
Dumbledore. Her. Emily. Snape. Me. Five that I know of, anyway -
Considering he barely counted himself, he could count the number and have a finger left over.
Not that it matters. Emily will help me get better.
Harry smiled, lowering his head once more. He whispered as he prodded the worm before him, watching as the skin swirled, becoming cool and metallic, the goblet glimmering beneath the sunlight. Another tap and another whisper later, and the worm was back.
This is pretty easy.
Harry looked around. Most of the students were staring at their goblets with frustration. To his side, Nott was prodding his worm with the end of his wand. A few desks down, Malfoy was staring at his with disgust.
Their families probably taught them how to use it. For dueling, or something.
The rest of the class continued to struggle. Harry wasn't surprised; it was the first time many of them had ever tried transfiguring objects into animals.
Even if they are worms.
Harry glanced at the worm that lay before him. It sat in place, its breathing exaggerated and apparent.
I suppose they have to have some use.
Harry sighed as the creature rolled over, falling off the desk.
The class was supposed to have been much more interesting. Professor McGonagall had told them about it at the start of the year. Only back then they were meant to be turning their goblets into snakes.
She probably thinks it's a bad idea, what with the Chamber of Secrets and the whole dueling club fiasco.
Something soared past his ear. Harry watched as Malfoy's worm landed in the very middle of Neville's desk. The pudgy Gryffindor boy fell to the floor in alarm, his chair clattering along the cobbled floors.
She probably thinks I'd set a snake on Draco as revenge.
Harry levitated the worm back onto his desk, pushing his textbook aside.
She's probably right.
Harry chuckled, turning to the book. He flipped a few pages before arriving at chapter eight, and began to read.
'Novices in the Transfiguration of objects to living creatures should begin with simple, basic animals, such as the worm or the snake. The complexity of an animal can play a large role in how easily it is formed. The subconscious mind is often what strings together the image of whatever animal we wish to create; the more that is known about the result we wish to produce (or, at the very least, its appearance), the easier that result is to achieve.
Simple creatures, such as the worm or the snake, are therefore remarkably easy to produce. Creatures of larger complexity, such as birds, mammals, and so on - will all likely prove to be more of a challenge.
For more information on the transfiguration and conjuration of animals, turn to page one hundred and seventy-four.'
Harry slammed the book shut. He had learnt as much from Emily - both her diary and the notebook - many months ago, back when he had been practicing object to animal transfiguration.
"Stop scowling." whispered Daphne, "You do it whenever you're thinking too hard."
"He doesn't scowl much." defended Nott, not bothering to look up, "But I suppose that just means he doesn't think much."
Harry rolled his eyes with a grin, shoving the book back into his bag. He watched as Daphne returned to her goblet, waving her wand at it in the neat, refined way that only she seemed capable of. Nott watched on with disinterest, yawning every now and then.
"Just do what we did." he murmured, a hand holding his head upright, "We both got it in our first try."
"If McGonagall allowed me to use it on you I'd probably get it on the first try, too." Daphne snapped back. Nott shrugged, turning to Harry.
"First time using that spell?"
Harry nodded.
"Same." muttered Nott, "It was easy because of my grandfather - he taught me the Snake-Conjuring spell over break."
"'Serpensortia'?" asked Daphne stiffly, looking up, "The one Malfoy used in the Dueling Club?"
"That's the one." Nott nodded, his fingers tapping along the end of his desk, "It's loads easier than I thought, too."
"Of course it is." said Harry dryly, "It's just a snake. If it was anything else, we'd be in trouble - but it's pretty hard to mess this up."
"I don't know." Nott glanced across the room at the mess of Gryffindors, "Longbottom seems to be doing a pretty good job of it."
Harry snorted, turning back to the worm before him. He flicked his wand, an unspoken incantation echoing through his mind.
Vermiculus.
The worm disappeared, a golden goblet sat in its place.
-(xXx)-
"But you told me that one last week."
"And I'll tell it again if you don't stop interrupting me. Or I might just not tell you a story at all."
"Liar. You said you would if it stopped me from sneaking out at night."
"Did I?"
"Fine, I'm going out. I wanted to practice a few spells anyway."
"Alright, I'll tell you a new one. It's called -"
"Thank you, Emily."
Harry smiled, laughing as the diary burnt weakly beneath his touch.
-(xXx)-
"What's got you in a good mood?"
Harry turned, glancing at the blonde that sat beside him. Daphne was watching him, her eyebrows raised and her hands balled in her lap. Neither she, nor Nott (or anyone else, really) seemed to be paying any attention to Lockhart's demonstration at the front of the class.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem pleased." Daphne noted, turning her body to face his, "You've been like this since Christmas. Oddly happy, and for no good reason."
Harry shrugged.
"No one's been attacked in months." he said, "People are leaving me alone again."
Daphne frowned.
"I don't think you would be happy about that." whispered Daphne, glancing back towards the front of the class, "Pleased, maybe - but not happy. Not like this"
Harry shrugged again.
"I dunno then." he muttered, turning to face Lockhart as well.
It was true enough, though not fully.
I've properly gotten over what happened with her - with Voldemort. And I've got Emily now. And Daphne, and Nott too.
Harry nodded slowly, tapping his fingers upon the desk.
I suppose that would put me in a good mood.
"- and so I pushed him off me - like that - and hit him square in the chest with a Stunner!" exclaimed Lockhart from the front, brandishing his wand at Seamus Finnigan, who stood still, looking just as confused as everyone else. After a moment, the boy slowly dropped to the floor, rolling his eyes and muttering darkly under his breath.
"And that," finished Lockhart, grinning at them all, "Is how I defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf!"
"A galleon's yours if you hit him square in the chest with a Stunner." hissed Nott, his head lying flat against his desk and his eyes half closed.
Harry smiled, rolling his eyes.
-(xXx)-
The day slowly turned to night, then to day, and then to night again. Before Harry knew it, he found it was halfway through February. Though there were still a few weeks left to go, the month was turning out to be one of the best of Harry's life.
Tied with last month, probably.
Either way, all was well. For the first time in his life, Harry didn't feel alone. The days were spent with Daphne, or Nott, or both, and the nights were wasted away with Emily. What was better, he was getting just as much sleep as he had been several months ago. Back then, he had been kept awake by nightmares of her -
Voldemort. Not her. Voldemort.
Harry swallowed, his palm curled into a fist.
At least now the time he lost every night wasn't really lost. It was being spent, and it was spent in just the way Harry liked.
And it's being spent right now.
"Granger's fine as well." he finished, a quill in his hand, "She's back in classes and everything."
"I suppose that's good to hear." replied Emily a moment later, "I can't imagine being half a cat would be remotely pleasant."
"Neither can I."
"But we're getting off topic, again. We're supposed to be going over the Mind Arts."
"Sorry, I got distracted."
"Don't apologize." wrote Emily, "Just focus. Remember how badly you want this, and do what you have to do to get it done."
Harry nodded, breathing slowly. His mind slowly emptied, his thoughts becoming quieter and his movements less erratic.
"I'm ready." he wrote eventually.
"Then let's begin." Harry watched as her words slowly faded away, "There are two main branches of the Mind Arts: Legilimency and Occlumency. Each of these branches have different variations of complexity - Passive and Active."
"Passive Legilimency, Active Legilimency, Passive Occlumency and Active Occlumency." repeated Harry, "Alright, got it."
"Passive Legilimency is relatively simple." wrote the dairy, "It's the simple act of scanning the surface of someone's mind. You can't control what you see - just whatever the subject sees or feels. Their immediate thoughts and feelings, to be specific."
"I think that's what I can do." Harry scrawled out, "Whenever I use Legilimency on anyone, all I really get is what they're feeling. Sometimes what they're thinking, too - a vision, I guess - but not much else."
"That makes sense." noted Emily, "But you shouldn't be using Legilimency so recklessly. Raw talent isn't enough to avoid detection by those who know proper Occlumency."
"I don't try to use it on anyone." wrote Harry, "It's always an accident - I don't mean to do it."
It feels like you're invading their privacy, really.
"Who all have you accidentally used it on?"
"Mostly Daphne and Nott." said Harry, "They're who I spend most of my time with - aside from you, but I don't know how I'd use it on you. Some random students, too. Professor McGonagall as well. I'd have thought she'd know Occlumency."
Emily paused.
"The Mind Arts are a formative sort of magic. You've got to start when you're young, or you won't be able to manage it when you're older. What you did with McGonagall was very reckless. I imagine she'd at least know something was off."
"I think she did." Harry agreed slowly, "She thought it was just a headache, though."
"You're lucky you're as young as you are. If you were a bit older she might've suspected it for what it was."
"I didn't mean to." scrawled Harry, "Just lost control."
The diary paused again.
"We'll have to work on your control, it seems." Emily eventually decided, "It won't matter for most students - the only Pureblood family that properly understands Occlumency are the Blacks, and none of them attend Hogwarts at the moment.
"But your Professors," she continued, "are another story entirely. I highly doubt most of them know a thing about the Mind Arts - but it's still possible, especially with Dumbledore as headmaster."
"Snape knows how to." remembered Harry, "He used it on me at the Dueling Club, remember?"
"Yes, Harry, I do."
"But how'd I get him out of my mind?" asked Harry curiously, "I can't be that good at Occlumency - and he can't be that bad, either."
"I expect he was surprised." explained Emily, "Use of the Mind Arts - even a simple aptitude for them - is not something you see everyday. You also looked away, if I remember correctly - eye contact makes Legilimency a much simpler feat to accomplish."
"Why?"
"Because the eyes are the windows to the soul." wrote Emily. Harry couldn't tell if she was joking.
"What about Passive Occlumency?" asked Harry, tossing his sheets over himself as he rolled around in his bed.
"Simple awareness of the mind." wrote Riddle, "The ability to clear it and to calm it. The ability to control it, rather than allowing it to control you. Masters of Passive Occlumency can use it to better control their magic and their emotions, as I've told you before."
"Right," said Harry, jotting down a few notes down on a spare piece of parchment, "That's simple enough, I suppose."
"It should be." agreed Emily, "They're the basic, most simplistic forms of each branch. Still extremely useful, but simple."
"And the other forms?"
"Active Legilimency and Active Occlumency." wrote Emily, "Active Legilimency is the ability to properly delve into someone's mind. You push past their surface thoughts, gaining access to their minds. The subject continues thinking about whatever they were thinking of, whilst you have free access to look through whatever thoughts their minds hold, completely undetected."
"Er - right." scrawled Harry, "And Active Occlumency?"
"The ability to sense and follow anyone invading your mind." Riddle explained , "Instead of seeing what you yourself were thinking, you see whatever the Legilimens is trying to see. Once you're aware that someone has breached your mind, you clear it entirely - Passive Occlumency."
"And then?"
"And then nothing." said Emily, "Your mind becomes completely blank. Empty. There is no longer anything for the Legilimens to view."
"But it doesn't actually get a Legilimens out of your mind?"
"No, it doesn't."
"Then won't the Legilimens eventually get you to crack?"
"Not in that way." explained Emily, "A master Occlumens can keep their mind blank indefinitely - it's akin to muggle meditation, I believe."
"Then how?"
"By forcing them to think." wrote Riddle, "Not magically - physically. Things like torture, or pain, or suffering. Things that the mind acknowledges on an instinctual level. Things that not even an Occlumens can ignore forever."
Harry shuddered, pulling the covers even further over himself.
"But it isn't even remotely common." Emily assured him, "Most witches and wizards know nothing of the Mind Arts - it's unlikely that a Master Legilimens and a Master Occlumens come face to face. If, by some chance, they did meet, I doubt either would fall to the other so easily."
"Right." said Harry, "I've got a few questions though, if that's okay."
"Of course it is, Harry."
Time passed in a blink of an eye. Harry's scribbled nots lay upon the bedside table. He stared at the diary, which he held up with his hands. The green glow mixed strangely with the aged yellow pages. He reread the three words the covered the diary's surface again and again and again.
"Good night, Harry."
Picking up a quill, Harry began to write.
"You've forgotten something."
For a moment, nothing happened, and then -
"- and with a wave of her wand, Cinderella's Godmother turned the pumpkin into a lovely carriage, and the mice into horses, and Cinderella's mangy dress into the most beautiful one ever seen -"
Harry groaned, scribbling over the inky black words as he sank back into his bed.
He smiled all the while.
-(xXx)-
A golden glow shined down upon the Hogwarts Grounds, a rarity for the month of February. Harry basked beneath its glow, sitting by the side of the Great Lake. The ends of his lips turned upwards as he closed his eyes.
This must be what it's like to be happy.
Harry loved the feeling. The joyful, energetic buzzing in his chest. It flew through every fiber of his being, singing a song of wonder -
"You know," said a soft voice, "It's strange to see you here with a smile. This is usually where we sulk, isn't it?"
Harry glanced up. Daphne stood just to his side, her long blonde hair billowing in the light breeze. He gently patted the earth beside him, and she took a seat to his right.
"It's nice, though." she added, looking back at him, "It's good to see you so happy."
It feels good, too.
"What about you?" asked Harry, "I never got to ask how your Christmas was. That must've been nice, right?"
Daphne nodded.
"I - I needed it." she said slowly, "I didn't realize it, but I did. It was nice to see Tracey. I missed her a lot. I'll see her over break too, so it might not be as bad as I thought. As for Astoria -"
She faltered, her voice trailing off into nothingness. Harry's head tilted to the side, his eyebrows scrunched together. She watched him carefully before taking a slow, shaky breath.
"Astoria," she whispered quietly, "She's my sister. She's - she's ill, and - and -"
"It's alright." promised Harry, "You don't have to -"
"I want to." said Daphne firmly. Her eyes shined with determination, and Harry felt his head slowly nod. Daphne steadied herself and began to speak.
"She has a blood curse." she murmured quietly, "A long time ago, someone cursed one of our ancestors. Usually curses like that die out fast, and it did - it hasn't been seen in the family for centuries. But Astoria - well, she was unlucky."
Harry ducked his head. A soft, sincere apology hovered gently upon his lips -
But there isn't a point. Saying you're sorry doesn't get anything done.
"I think it's just another reason to keep fighting." he muttered. Daphne slowly looked up, her eyes slightly watery.
"I mean," he continued, "Either you leave it up to fate, or you fight. When the odds are stacked against you, you don't just cross your fingers and hope for the best. You fight, again and again and again, until eventually the odds are in your favour."
Daphne watched him silently. Her features softened, and Harry felt a gentle hand wrap around his own.
"That's what you're doing, isn't it?" she whispered.
Harry nodded.
"Maybe you're right." Daphne decided, her voice cracking, "I don't want to run anymore. I'm going to fight, for Astoria's sake."
A golden glow enveloped them as the sun shined from between the saddened clouds.
