Longest chapter yet, at 10.4k words before the A/N. Buckle up.
The afternoon gave way to evening, time passing by in a dazed blur.
She had visitors; a frightened and worried Tracey, an anxious and regretful Hermione, even a stoic and bored-looking Snape. Lying there listless and potioned, she hardly noticed as they came and went, garnering little in the way of a reaction from her.
None of them were who she wanted to see.
It was later that night, while the Skele-Gro worked its magic, her mouth tender and aching, when Daphne received her final visit of the day. The Headmaster slowly settled into the seat alongside her bed, posture weak and weary, running a gloved hand over his pale and drawn face.
"How are you feeling?"
"Alright, I guess."
Dumbledore nodded, staring down at her. "I hope it goes without saying that I had nothing to do with Miss Delacour's assault. While I clearly feel both you and Harry are best served by time and space apart, I would never encourage or approve of something like this."
"How did you know what happened?" she asked.
"Miss Granger was more than forthcoming about the circumstances that led to your residing in that bed." He shook his head, eyes drifting to stare at the night sky through the window. "This war… it's just like before, the last time. Violence has no place in a school, but conflicts like these always manage to find a way over the walls."
"It wasn't about the war, it was about Harry," she said, feeling annoyed at what felt like Dumbledore's minimising what happened.
"For better or worse, that young man is at the centre of what's to come."
"Are you here to tell me off for seeking him out? Because if so," Daphne gestured to herself. "I'm pretty sure I already took my punishment."
Dumbledore sagged in his seat, his neutral expression faltering. "You must see me as an ogre, an uncaring villain standing between you and your family's salvation. I certainly have not given you much reason to think otherwise." An elf popped into the room, offering three potions and a cup of tea. After downing the potions, he appeared more alert and energetic, sitting upright. "Therefore, it may surprise you to hear that I found myself in a situation not dissimilar to your own when I was not much older than you are today."
"What do you mean?"
"My sister was named Ariana. She was the baby of the family, four years younger than myself. She was… timid, but kind. Innocent, but I suppose you could say that about any child that doesn't live to see adulthood."
Daphne went rigid. "What happened to her?"
"When she was six, a group of muggles caught sight of her doing accidental magic. She was… attacked."
"They killed her?"
Dumbledore looked pensive, staring down into his tea. "For many years, I would have said yes. She survived their assault, but for a child that age to undergo such trauma…" He shook his head. "She was never the same. On some level, she associated the pain they caused her with using magic, and became terrified of being a witch."
"I don't understand. She wanted to be a muggle? After they were the ones to hurt her?"
"The details are not so important to the story, and- and remain a painful chapter of my life even now, a century later. Suffice to say, Ariana was never the same. Her magic became unpredictable, uncontrollable, prone to violent outbursts. My mother was killed during one such episode, and I assumed custody of my sister." He glanced up at her for a moment, but only a moment, and then locked his gaze on his teacup once more. "Less than a year later, Ariana died."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"No doubt you're wondering why, after your trying day, you must endure an old man's regrets," he said in a light tone, but it was hard to miss the way he brushed his gloved hand over his eyes. "Losing my sister was… catastrophic. It defined my life, Miss Greengrass, fundamentally changing who I was and what I was to be."
Daphne remained quiet, too uncomfortable to reply.
"In many ways, I admire your single-minded determination, your willingness to burn the world down in an effort to save your sister. I confess that, as a talented young man only recently out of Hogwarts at the time, I didn't share your devotion to my own sibling."
"Sir, what's the point of you telling me this?"
He chuckled at the bluntness of her query. "Maybe I'm trying to establish a sense of kinship with you through my family's tragic story. Or perhaps I want to spare you the regrets I've carried with me my whole life. More likely, though," here, he finally met her eyes, "I am just an old man lost in memories of times long past."
Whatever his actual reasons, she couldn't deny learning about his past changed the way she looked at him. "Can I ask- I mean, your sister was attacked by muggles, but you've always been on the side of greater tolerance of their culture. How can you not hate them, for what they did to your family, what they took from you?"
"How can you not hate the Potters for what they did to your family, what they've taken from you?"
Daphne blinked at his immediate parry. "I- I suppose I might have, if things were different."
"Yes. If things were different, they wouldn't be the same," he agreed sagely, and they sat together in silence for a long stretch.
Her eyelids grew heavy, the dull discomfort of the Skele-Gro fading over the course of their conversation. "Headmaster?"
"Yes?"
"How did- I mean, when you lost Ariana, did it ever stop hurting? How did you go on?"
Her head lolled back against the pillows, the warm silence of the Hospital Wing lulling her to sleep. Distantly, she felt his weathered hand pat her own, his response hushed and so quiet she thought she might have imagined it.
"It never stopped hurting, but I pressed on nonetheless. What else could I do, but go on? It was the only option. You live for the people you love, Daphne."
"This feels familiar," she grumbled, as Madam Pomfrey checked her over.
"I've no doubt it does," the mediwitch agreed. "You're looking well, but you'll likely be sore for a few days more. Let me change the bandages on your fingers, and then I'll let you be on your way."
Pomfrey was true to her word, and after changing into a clean outfit provided by Dobby, she left the Hospital Wing. Once outside, the doors barely closed behind her before she was confronted by her Head of House.
"Greengrass, with me," he ordered, not bothering to check if she was following before turning with a swirl of his robes, stalking towards the Grand Staircase.
She hurriedly set off behind him, walking quickly to try and match his lengthy stride. "Sir? Uh, did you want to have a meeting today? We normally talk during the week…"
He glanced her over, his stare lingering on her bandaged fingertips. "Madam Pomfrey assured me you would be fully recovered."
"You mean my hands?" Daphne extended her fingers, flexing them to test the sensation. "It'll be a few days before the potions to make my nails grow back will be ready."
"Are you able to grasp a wand securely, with your hands in that condition?"
"I think so. Is this about my classes?"
He opened a door, gesturing for her to step inside the empty classroom. All the furniture shrank down and stacked itself neatly in the corner of the room after a wave of his wand, then he turned and regarded her with a sneer. "I had a word with Granger about your encounter in Hogsmeade. I recognise that your marks have taken a dip since your… association with Potter and his sycophants, but even still, I was surprised at how pathetic your performance was."
"Excuse me?" she asked, but he dismissed her indignation immediately.
"You've insisted several times your intention to ally yourself with Potter. I hadn't been aware your sole capacity in doing so was to function as a human shield, intercepting curses with your body."
"You're upset that- what, I didn't fight back well enough? She's years older than I am, she was a TriWizard Champion! It's not like it was a fair fight!"
Snape's lip curled, his sneer turning even more derisive. "Why didn't you say so? I'm sure the next time someone points a wand at you, all you need do is request they cease and desist until an opponent of your own calibre can be located!"
He really was unbelievable, she thought angrily. "Maybe if there were competent teachers at this school, I wouldn't have been so unprepared!"
"What, exactly, do you think we're doing here? Draw your wand." She blinked in surprise, and he repeated himself, harshly barking out, "Draw your wand!"
Once she did so, squeezing it in an awkward grasp, he next commanded, "Cast the Shield Charm."
Daphne completed the clockwise half-circle she'd read about in her textbooks, incanting "Protego" as she did. A second later, she was blasted backward, falling onto her rear and watching her wand spiral through the air to land in her professor's hand.
She barely saw him move. How did he cast so quickly?
Her wand clattered to the ground in front of her. "Again, and this time tighten your wand movement. It's too slow. Don't forget, protective spells are more effective when you can identify what you are defending against. I will cast another Disarming Charm. Prepare yourself."
Daphne pushed off the stone floor, picking up her wand and rising to her feet. She kept her eyes locked on the tip of her wand, carefully performing a crisp and sharp half-circle and voicing the incantation once more.
A red flash, and then her wand again spiralled into the air.
"It's no wonder you survived your encounter with that creature with such minimal injury," Snape said, letting her wand fall to the floor in front of her again. "Is your strategy to be so boringly ineffective at duelling that your opponent loses interest in cursing you? You're so entranced with your own spellcasting you can't be bothered to notice your adversary! "
Gritting her teeth, Daphne snatched her wand up and pushed off the ground once more. "PROTEGO!" she snarled, stumbling backwards a moment later when Snape's charm collided with and then careened off her shield, spattering harmlessly against the wall.
Through the light blue haze of her shield, Snape's expression flickered, appearing almost pleased, but a heartbeat later his sneer was back in place. "Expecting congratulations, Greengrass? Maybe some House points for accomplishing something your classmates are already able to do silently? Think again, we're just getting started!"
Two hours later, Daphne was exhausted, drenched in sweat and covered in dust. Snape, on the other hand, had not a single oily hair out of place.
"You did very well today, Daphne. I expect to see you here, every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, at six o'clock sharp. By the end of this term, if anyone ever tries again to do to you what Granger did, you'll be able to put them in the ground. You have my word."
On her hands and knees, gasping for air, Daphne still managed a "Thank you, Professor," before he strode out of the room at the same pace he'd entered.
Exhausted from her 'counseling' session with Professor Snape, Daphne fell into a deep sleep upon returning to her dormitory. She may have even slept straight through to the next morning, were it not for Tracey waking her up for dinner.
"What did Potter do to you? You were a complete mess when I saw you in the Hospital Wing!"
"You mean- you think Harry did this to me? Don't be ridiculous! And how did you even know something happened?"
"You went to meet with him and ended up in the Hospital Wing! And as for how I knew, I saw that oaf, Hagrid, carrying you inside. Wait, was he the one that attacked you?"
Daphne reared back at the way her friend jumped to a - frankly absurd - conclusion. "No! He was- he was actually very kind. He's a professor, Trace, do you really think he'd just go off on a student?"
"I mean, he's half-giant. Who knows what he's capable of?"
She opened her mouth to argue, but it occurred to her that she very well might have said those exact words, verbatim, after Skeeter's expose following the Yule Ball their Fourth Year.
Instead, she said, "Harry didn't hurt me, I barely saw him at all. It's a long story." Tracey was obviously gearing up to pursue answers, but before she could, Daphne asked, "Are you able to cast a Shield Charm nonverbally?"
Confusion evident on her face, Tracey nodded. "Yes. It was one of the first spells Snape had us learn."
"Do you think I might have a look at your DADA notes?"
"Um, I guess so, yea."
They stepped inside the Great Hall, dinner having begun ten or fifteen minutes prior. On the way to the Slytherin table, Daphne looked over the faculty. Professor Snape was there, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgement. McGonagall scanned the students, looking for any signs of misbehaviour while half-heartedly conversing with Babbling, the Runes instructor. At last, her eyes landed on Hagrid, his ponderous bulk stuck on the far end of the table, gamely chatting with a half-in-the-bag Trelawney.
"I'll be right back," she said to Tracey, changing directions and quickening her steps. "Professor Hagrid?"
"Aye," he said, giving her a cheerful smile and raising a bucket-sized goblet. "Glad t'see yer back on yer feet, there, Miss Greengrass."
"I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me yesterday, I mean."
"Pshaw!" he grunted, cheeks turning ruddy beneath his bushy beard. "T'weren't nothing, really."
"It was something to me. So, um, thanks. Enjoy your meal." She spun around and took a seat next to Tracey.
She was greeted with a few snickers, and overheard a couple of snide comments intentionally made within her earshot by her Housemates. It was far less than she'd have expected, given the disdain for the Care professor within Slytherin, but Daphne didn't care either way. That minute, small act of kindness was a promise to herself. There was no going back. She'd changed, and refused to pretend otherwise. Not for Harry, but for herself.
Life was simply too short to not be true to herself.
"Oi, Greengrass! Got a minute?"
She turned and waved, masking a smile at Tracey's discomfort as she led the two of them over to where he stood. His prefect badge gleamed in the corridor's torchlight, and his school uniform looked unusually tidy. 'Got to be on a patrol' Daphne decided.
"It's a little early for you to be out looking for rulebreakers, isn't it?"
"Maybe I was just looking to break some rules myself, y'know, to warm up before I start my rounds." Then, glancing over at her companion, he gave Tracey a nod. "Davis."
"Weasley," she returned.
"Glad to see you've made a full recovery."
"You know about that, do you?"
"'Course!" Then, perhaps realising how that may have come out, hurriedly continued. "Not that I knew before it happened. I like to think I could've talked her out of such a silly idea."
"Give us a minute? I'll catch up," she said to Tracey, waiting until her roommate was out of earshot before replying. "It wasn't all that 'silly' from my perspective. Not exactly a barrel of laughs."
He winced. "Right, that was a poor choice of words. You should know, Hermione's pretty torn up over what happened."
Daphne raised one eyebrow. "I had to regrow six teeth. Sorry, but a half-arsed apology from her boyfriend isn't exactly going to make us even."
"She had no idea that things were going to go the way they did. Also, she was the one to come and get Harry to intervene. Not saying you should thank her, but she didn't realise what was going to happen until the spells started flying." Daphne just stared, uncertain what he expected from her, what the point of whatever this was. "She wanted to talk to you herself tonight, but was afraid that- well, I can only imagine what your reaction would be if she asked you to speak alone."
"Okay. She's sorry. Is that it?"
Ron sighed. "You two, I swear. I'm sure I'd be angry if I were standing in your shoes, but you have to understand, Hermione never- she was bloody furious after you came clean on the Express. I haven't seen her that mad since… well, probably not since she popped Malfoy square in the face back in Third Year. You and her have a, uh- let's call it a checkered history together. I don't think Harry or I ever realised just how much you and Parkinson got to her over the years."
"I apologised for that. Several times. And I never sent her to the Hospital Wing."
He nodded slowly. "Yea. Yea, you did apologise. And she believed you. So when you sat there, explaining what happened over the last year, she felt like a lot of the blame for what happened to Harry rested on her own shoulders, for not seeing through you, not protecting him from you."
"There's nothing to 'see through'-!" she started to say, but paused when Ron started to laugh.
"You two really are more alike than not. Relax, Greengrass, that was a compliment." His expression turned serious, and he leaned in closer. "She wants to make it up to you. Has it in her head that getting you and Harry in the same room is the way to do that."
"You're more mental than she is if you think I'll ever make that mistake again," Daphne scoffed.
"It's not just for you. I was there when he confronted her and Fleur, after he took you to the castle. I've known Harry longer than almost anybody, and I've never…" Ron trailed off, eyes growing distant. "I could feel his rage. All the hair on my arms stood up, like some- some sort of energy pressing against me. If it were anyone else, I'd've been terrified."
Daphne recalled the night he discovered Elysant in the Room of Requirement, the way his magic crackled around him, the scent of ozone in the air.
"I guess, seeing him like that, I don't know. It sort of changed my mind."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Look, Harry and me, we've always been pretty regular blokes. No, I'm serious," he protested when she started to grin in disbelief. "We hang out and talk quidditch, find excuses not to do homework, play gobstones or chess. What I mean to say is, talking about this mushy stuff isn't the sort of thing guys do, y'understand? So once he got back from the Ministry a few weeks back, I was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie. Yours was a worse breakup than most, but Harry's been through a lot. He'd get through this, too. But you really- I don't know, got to him. Changed him."
A flicker of something, something that felt a bit like hope kindled within her. "He told me he doesn't love me anymore."
Ron shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't. But I think, either way, you two have a lot of things that need saying." He took a deep breath, then cast a silent tempus. "Almost curfew. Think about what I said, would you? If you want things to go back the way they were before… everything that happened, I won't push you. And if you want our help, I promise that I'll be there to make sure you get it. See you around, Greengrass."
"Bye, Ron," she said, mulling over his offer, and everything he told her.
She'd just finished changing into something more comfortable and flexible, preparing for her next session with Professor Snape when someone knocked on the door and cleared their throat.
"What is it, Carrow?" Pansy somehow always could tell Hestia from Flora, but Daphne never liked them enough to bother to learn the difference. "I'm busy."
"Just checking in to see if you're alright."
"Do you really care, one way or another?"
"You don't have to be such a bint, I was just asking."
Daphne hadn't forgotten the twins' handiwork at the start of the previous term, trashing her belongings. "Well, as you can see for yourself, I'm fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."
"Are you and Potter back together, then?"
"What are you on about?"
"Everybody's talking about it in the dorms. It's pretty frightening, he basically runs the school now. Pansy says he hasn't bothered to show up for any classes since last term, and-"
"Wait, back up. What's this about Harry and I getting back together?"
Carrow furrowed her brow. "You didn't?"
"You said everybody's talking. Tell me what they're saying."
"Well…" she drawled. "Lucinda said that Pansy heard from Tracey that you broke up with him at the end of last term, and he was waiting until you went to Hogsmeade to make you get back together. That he beat you until you gave in, and then-" her voice dropped to a hushed, breathy tone. "-he took you, right then and there, while you were bleeding all over the place."
For a long moment, she was too stunned to respond, needing time to gather herself from the shock of such a salacious rumour. "I've heard a lot of silly things spread around the school over the years, but that is, without a doubt, the most ridiculous story I've heard in my entire life!"
"Well, you were brought back from Hogsmeade all busted up! Dedworth saw that half-breed carrying you through the halls, all beaten and bloody, with your cloak torn to shreds!"
"Believe what you want. But Harry broke up with me, we haven't got back together, and he's never hurt me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go."
She pushed past the younger girl, leaving the dormitory and making her way towards the third floor. Her conversation with Carrow caused a delay, so she broke out into a light jog to make sure she arrived on time.
"Good evening, Professor. What will we be working on tonight?"
Her Head of House, never one for cheer or joviality, seemed especially hostile since they'd begun these lessons. That pattern seemed in no danger of being interrupted, for he glowered darkly at her from the moment she entered.
"It occurred to me that I was doing you a disservice, tailoring my training to that of a typical Sixth Year curriculum."
"Sir?"
"The best way to protect one's self from attack is not defensive magic," he said in an imperious tone, "But rather, to leave your attacker in no condition to cast more spells. Observe."
He drew his wand, conjuring a wooden mannequin on the opposite side of the room. "Sectumsempra."
Deep divots appeared in the dummy, splinters flying as gouges were carved into its surface. The mannequin toppled to the floor while Daphne stared at the damage inflicted by a single spell. The thought of using something like that on a person was disturbing.
"As you can see, the wand movement is negligible. It is a fast moving and effective spell." He waved his wand, repairing the dummy and standing it upright. "The incantation is sec-tum-sem-pra, followed by a downward slash."
Daphne's eyes remained locked on the dummy for several seconds, jumping back to her professor when he spoke again. "Whenever you're ready."
"Yes, sir." Drawing her own wand, Daphne took a deep breath, then jerked her wand downward and called out the incantation. A pale silver light sputtered out, striking the mannequin and leaving a few scratches behind.
"Focus, Miss Greengrass," he said, speaking in a low tone behind her. "Your will and intention are lacking. You have to want it. Try again."
"Sectumsempra." A single, lengthy trench was carved into its surface.
"Better. Again."
"Sectumsempra." The second impact knocked the dummy to the floor, the spell resulting in multiple slashes this time.
"Yes! Again!"
"Sectumsempra!"
She sat, perched on the cold stone windowsill, staring outside. Daphne discovered this spot, on a side staircase leading to the fifth floor, where she was provided a clear view of anyone coming and going from the Forbidden Forest.
Footsteps sounded, coming down the stairs towards her, but Daphne kept her eyes on the grounds, watching Harry walk the Headmaster out of the woods, meeting a waiting Professor Snape. Harry lowered Dumbledore to the ground, Snape immediately tilting his head and administering a series of potions.
"I don't understand you. If this was all for your sister, why keep going?"
She slid her hands into her sleeves, running her fingers over her wand. "Is it really so hard to believe I'm in love with him?"
Granger took a seat on the stairs. "Ron told me he spoke with you. Why haven't you reached out to us?"
Below, Harry and Professor Snape had helped the Headmaster to his feet, assisting him through the courtyard to the castle's entrance. "Do you think using his friends to trick him into speaking with me will really do me any good?"
"You wouldn't be using us." She left the 'this time' unspoken. "We're trying to help."
Daphne shook her head. "I'm not going to manipulate him anymore. I'm done with that."
"Alright. If that's what you want, I'll respect your decision. I, um, wanted to give you this, though." Granger reached into her bag, pulling something out and holding it out for her to take. "I'm sorry for what happened- for my part in your being hurt."
She looked at the outstretched item, eyes widening as she recognised the small vial of golden liquid. The Felix Felicis she won in their first potions class last term! "You're sure?"
"Yes."
Daphne took the potion, tucking it away in her robes and turned back to the window, listening to Granger stand up and walk back the way she'd come.
"How are your preparations for your OWLs coming?"
Luna glanced up from the scroll of parchment she was taking notes on. "Alright."
Daphne slid into the seat across from her, watching her leaf through a book on charms theory, occasionally marking something in her notes. "I miss you," she said quietly.
"Ginny told me you've been trying to get at Harry again. I'm not going to help you."
"I know," she calmly replied. "What's between him and I doesn't have anything to do with you and me. I just want to spend some time with you."
Luna continued working with no reply, but she also didn't get up and leave. It was a victory; a small one, perhaps, but she'd take wins wherever she could get them. Daphne pulled out a book of her own, one that Professor Snape had loaned her, and quietly started reading.
The snow was gone, but as February gave way to March the cold persisted, Scotland still in the firm grip of winter.
Daphne took a seat, filling her plate with toast, fruit, and two rashers of bacon, nodding along as Tracey moaned about her struggles in Defence.
"If you're having that much trouble, why don't we work on it after classes this afternoon?"
Tracey nearly choked on her porridge. "No offence, Daph, but when was the last time you had a real DADA class? Fourth Year? Don't pretend like we learned anything from Umbridge."
"I might surprise you," she said, thinking about her private instruction from Professor Snape. "Let's stop by the library first and see if Luna wants to come."
"That's alright with me."
By now, Tracey knew better than to object, and Daphne liked to think the little Ravenclaw was winning her roommate over. Several times over the last few weeks, Daphne and Tracey had sat at the same table with Luna while the younger girl studied for her OWLs. Things weren't the way they were before, but the most recent time Daphne noticed Luna was wearing a necklace made of butterbeer corks.
"Oh! I didn't tell you, the funniest thing happened in my Charms class. Goyle was trying to…" Daphne trailed off as a familiar owl glided to a smooth landing on the table in front of her. Her family's owl, Kokko, clutching a letter for her.
She hesitated, and Tracey went still beside her. With trembling hands, she untied the letter, opening the envelope and reading the brief message in her father's scrawl.
Daphne,
I've already written to your professors, but you'll be taking an extended absence, coming home until the end of the Easter break for the funeral ceremonies. Your mother, she- here there was a line scratched out, and his handwriting worsened following the break. We want to spend time as a family, to try and come to terms with this loss. If you would like to come home now, to see your sister one last time before she passes, you need only speak with Professor Snape.
She made a sound, halfway between a gasp and a moan, hands involuntarily tightening around the letter, the parchment crumpling in her grip.
"What is it?" Tracey asked, her voice quiet and concerned.
Forcing herself to relax, to take deep breaths, Daphne passed the letter to her roommate.
"I'm so sorry, Daphne."
She ignored the consoling words, instead looking over the Great Hall, searching him out. As was typical, neither Harry nor the Headmaster were present. Pushing her seat back, she rose from the Slytherin table and stumbled with halting steps, making her way towards the boisterous Gryffindors.
It was one thing to objectively know she'd failed Astoria. In some ways, she'd been preparing for this day for years, since her parents had first sat her down and explained why her sister wasn't like all the other children, why someday, Daphne herself would suffer from the same affliction. But intellectually understanding something was quite different from the viscerality of knowing a cure existed and having no way to secure it for her little sister.
"Greengrass? You alright?"
Daphne stood and stared blankly at the table, shaking her head. "Can we talk?"
"Uh, sure." Ron made to stand up, pausing at her next request.
"And Granger, too?"
"She's still up in the Tower, Demelza needed some help with her Runes assignment. What is it?"
He might have been telling the truth, when he said he didn't love her anymore. He might spit in her face and refuse to help. Even if he agreed, nothing might come of it; the best researchers that gold could buy had all failed, after centuries of trying, after all.
She would beg, plead. Offer everything she had, anything she could give.
Daphne just needed Harry to listen.
"Okay, Hermione will wait at the staircase leading to our dorms. Ginny, you take Dean and post up at the quidditch pitch, just in case he decides to blow off some steam after his lesson with the Headmaster. I'll be in the kitchens in case he's hungry, and Neville's agreed to wait in the Hospital Wing. We'll bring him to you."
Weasley raised her hand. "Um, one question. Where's this talk going to take place?"
"Professor Snape's office. We can access the Floo from there."
The redheaded girl snorted. "Yea, sure. 'Say, Harry, I'm going to need you to come with me, your ex-girlfriend and the professor you hate want to sit down for a chat.' That'll go over real well."
"Ginny…" Ron said in warning.
"She's right, though," Granger said, before she snapped her fingers. "I've got it! Use the Room of Requirement! It's a short walk from the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, you can take that to Hogsmeade and-"
"That won't work," Daphne interrupted. "The Room's been locked since we came back from winter hols."
The collected Gryffindors all stared in surprise. "What? That doesn't make any sense."
She shrugged. "Regardless, I couldn't get in. Have any of you been able to access it?"
Ron and Granger shared a look. "We haven't tried. You'd been in there pretty much the whole year, so why would we?"
Daphne shook her head. "No, I'm back in the dungeons. So we'll need a different spot."
"When was the last time you tried?" Granger doggedly asked. "The Room won't open if it's occupied, maybe someone from the DA was using it when you were trying to get in."
"I- well, it's been a few months." Could it really have been that simple?
"Okay, new plan," Ron said authoritatively. "Greengrass, you go and try the Room again. If you can't get in, the meeting spot will be the kitchens, and from there you can take the passage beneath the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack. If you can get into the Room, just sit tight and wait for him outside."
"How will you know if I can't get in?"
"With this." He reached into his bag, withdrawing a bright orange-coloured sheet of parchment. "It's a Doxy-Gram, a prototype my brothers' developed. Watch." He scribbled a stick figure on the parchment, tapped his wand and said "Figura Fugantius Daphne Greengrass". The parchment folded itself, taking the appearance of an origami doxy, flying through the air and making circles above Daphne's head.
"That's brilliant!" Granger enthused. "How does it find the recipient, though?"
"It only works in Hogwarts, thanks to the castle's enchantments. Remember, the Twins spent years examining the Marauder's Map before they passed it on to Harry."
"Why haven't they started selling it yet?"
"Ow!" Daphne, reaching for the flying note, jerked her hand back, sucking on the paper cut it left on her finger as it continued to zoom in circles around her.
"That's why," Ron said, smacking the parchment and stomping on it when it fell to the ground. "They used doxy venom in the production, and it takes on some, er, unfriendly tendencies.
"Alright. Harry should be finishing with Dumbledore in about an hour, so let's get moving. Daphne, if you can't get in, message me and I'll alert the others. We'll get him to you; from there, it's up to you. Good luck."
She took a deep breath, nodded her thanks, and set off for the seventh floor.
It felt like ages since she'd been here, standing opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls. She and Harry had shared so many happy memories here.
And one horrible, awful memory, as well.
Dropping her bag to the ground to more easily pull out the Doxy-Gram, Daphne stepped up to the blank stretch of wall. On impulse, she reached into her robes, withdrawing the vial of Liquid Luck, popping the stopper and downing it in a single go.
The taste was sweet, cloyingly so, thick and viscous and lingering in her mouth even after she swallowed. A few seconds went by, and Daphne marvelled at the way the drab stone corridor seemed somehow brighter, as though the sun suddenly peeked out from behind clouds. She began pacing back and forth in front of the wall, her purpose for this meeting springing to mind.
I need a place to recover what's been lost.
I need a place to recover what's been lost.
I need a place to recover what's been lost.
Following her third turn, a door appeared where there had only been a wall before. There was still time before the others would send Harry, so with a grin, Daphne stepped through and into the Room of Requirement for the first time since December.
She cocked her head at this configuration of the Room. Long rows of shelves stretched as far as she could see, filled to bursting with a random assortment of various objects.
How fascinating!
Her first step forward was greeted with a ringing sound. A perimeter ward, she realised, but why would there be something like that here?
"Turn off the bloody alarm, Wormtail! And what are you doing back, now of all times? If you think you're going to take credit for my success, you'd better think again!" A voice called out from further within the Room. A familiar voice, but one she hadn't heard in quite awhile.
She caught a glimpse of bedraggled blonde hair, poking out from beside a shelf to her left, standing up to make for the entrance. She raised her hand and waved in greeting.
"Hello, Draco."
"Greengrass!?" he sputtered, fumbling for his wand. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing."
He stormed over to her, shoving her against one of the shelves and pressing his wand to her throat. "How did you get in?"
"Pacing three times in front of the wall, of course."
"Who else knows about this?"
"About the Room of Requirement? I don't know. About you and your plans? No one." It was strange how unconcerned she was, alone with no hope of rescue. But Daphne was confident she could handle this, handle Draco, if need be. "What exactly are you planning? This doesn't look like the sort of living arrangement I'd expect to find you in." Indeed, this close to him, she could smell the rank and foul odor emanating from him, see his filthy and stained robes. Repeated Scouring Charms can only do so much, and are no substitute for a proper bath.
He patted her down with his free hand, pulling her sleeve back to take her wand. "I've been stuck in this dump since the day after winter holidays began. What's your excuse? To think, you used to be somewhat attractive. Potter's really done a number on you."
"At least you had some company," she said lightly, as though he was an old friend catching up, rather than a murderer holding her at wandpoint. "Who's this Wormtail?"
"He's a pathetic, snivelling coward! I've gone days at a time without food thanks to his gutlessness!"
"Oh. I always just asked the elves to bring me food when I was in the Room."
Draco spun her around, looking queerly at her. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a loud creaking sounded from behind him. Daphne watched his eyes widen, and heard him whisper, "They're here."
She listened intently, the sounds from behind the shelves magnified by the absolute silence of the Room. A single pair of booted feet. The rustle of robes. Two steps forward, and then the creaking noise once again, this time followed by a slight click.
It was a door, she realised. The sound was a door opening and closing.
Draco appeared puzzled, the wand pointed at her faltering as he turned and looked over his shoulder.
"Malfoy," a voice said, saying the name the way one would an epithet.
His face drained of all colour, jaw dropping in shock. Draco's wand no longer pointed at her, his hand trembling and shaking so violently he couldn't hit her even if she were six inches away.
"MALfoy!" the voice said again, a thread of irritation audible in the way he spoke the name.
"I am here, milord! I wasn't expect- I was told my aunt would be leading your faithful! Forgive me!"
He emerged from behind the shelf, high-collared robes, coloured pure midnight-black, swishing with every step; their great length making it seem as though he glided across the floor rather than walked. His hands were delicate, long, bony fingers interlocked across his abdomen as he came closer. Malformed features and flesh stretched taut over his skull, he was so pale his skin seemed almost to glow, in sharp contrast to the darkness of his robes.
Lord Voldemort had arrived at Hogwarts.
There was a moment of silence while the Dark Lord evaluated the scene before him. His eyes fell on Daphne, and for a brief instant she stared into his blood-red eyes. Then common-sense prevailed.
She curtsied. "Hello."
"You're entertaining guests?"
Draco collapsed to the ground, prostrating himself. "Never! I have worked diligently every moment I have been here! She somehow managed to infiltrate the Room, I don't know how-"
"Rise," the Dark Lord drawled before moving closer to her, grasping her chin in his hand, his fingers colder than the waters of Black Lake. "What is your name, girl?"
"Daphne Greengrass," she said, and then furrowed her eyebrows and added a belated, "Milord" to her sentence.
"Greengrassssss," he repeated, her name a lengthy hiss on his lips. "What are you doing here?"
The door - the one Daphne came through - flew open at that moment, and Voldemort looked over her shoulder to the new arrival. "Severus. You're late."
"Milord, this is a surprise and an honour," her Head of House said, walking into her eyeline and crisply bowing. As he rose, his gaze locked on her. A spasm ran across his face, there and gone in a flash before he said, "Miss Greengrass, I'm glad you made it."
"Hello, Professor," she mumbled, still in Voldemort's grasp.
"You brought her here?" Draco spat, clambering to his feet.
"I don't answer to you," Snape replied dismissively, not even bothering to glance at Draco. "After Malfoy's incompetence drove him from the school, I did my best to follow through on his assignment."
"You know better than I who should fulfill my orders?"
"The boy's mother begged for my assistance, secured through an Unbreakable Vow. Bellatrix officiated the oath, milord. Sworn as I am to assist him, I had no choice but to make alternative arrangements once he proved so woefully lacking." Draco vibrated with fury, glaring hatefully at his former professor.
"Bella knew of this?" The Dark Lord's voice was questioning, but no longer suspicious, as though the assurance his most fanatical servant knew of Snape's involvement allayed any doubt. "And the girl?"
"I recruited her last year, in your name, milord. I ordered her to prepare when I felt your summons through the Mark." Snape turned his head to stare intently at her, even as he continued speaking to the Dark Lord. "I was unaware you yourself would be overseeing today's mission. I intended to tell you about her in person."
"And yet, here I am, in person," Voldemort said. "Is this true, girl? You- wait." He paused, his red eyes narrowing to slits. "Greengrass… the girl who-"
"Forgive me, milord. Yes, she spent an entire year gaining Potter's confidence, right under Dumbledore's nose."
"What?" Thankfully, Draco spared her having to ask that. What was Snape doing? "She- she was working for you?"
"I am the only one who recruits in my name," Voldemort said. "I think you take too many liberties, Severus. Perhaps I will use this girl as an example of what I think of my servants assembling their own 'followers'."
Snape lowered his head, but when he spoke his voice was bereft of fear. "If that is what you wish. I live only to serve, and will accept any punishment you see fit for my disrespect. I only ask, before you do so, to allow Greengrass to demonstrate her loyalty."
"Oh?" The Dark Lord's amusement was a terrible and cruel sound. His hand released her chin, replaced by the tip of his wand. "Daphne, was it? Are you going to regale us with tales of 'The Chosen One's' deepest desires?"
"Milord, if I may - she convinced Potter to share with her what the elder Malfoy failed to obtain last summer."
Voldemort's face sharpened as his eyes darted to Snape, suddenly deadly serious. "The prophecy? Is this true?"
"It is." How did Snape know about that? What was he doing? "She shared it with me, I can recite it-"
"I'd rather hear it for myself," he interrupted, turning back to her, his crimson eyes boring into her own. "Legilimens."
A headache formed, then quickly advanced into blinding pain as the Dark Lord ruthlessly tore apart her mind in his search. She relived the intimate memory in the woods outside of the Burrow, then the other within the broom closet months later. For all the agony she endured, seeing Harry again in her memory, there was a kind of comfort re-experiencing the feel of his arms around her, the taste of his kiss.
The Dark Lord turned away, shivering in disgust, allowing her to collapse unimpeded to the floor. She felt like her mind had been cleaved in two, nearly vomiting right there and then from her nausea and double-vision.
"'The power he knows not'..." Voldemort whispered. "Well done, Severus. I will see you rewarded beyond your wildest imagination for your service."
"Thank you, milord."
"And you, girl. Get up." Daphne struggled to rise, trying to prop herself up using a nearby shelf, only to fall to the floor again, knocking off several items and leaving a mess of junk on the floor. She tried again, standing on wobbly knees. "Your efforts will not go unrewarded. Move."
"You can't mean to bring her along!" Draco protested.
In response, Voldemort turned his bone-white wand on her former Housemate, a silent Disarming Charm sending Draco's wand flying into the air and landing neatly in Voldemort's outstretched palm.
"Crucio."
Draco writhed and screamed, horrible, anguished cries that went on and on. The spell cut out, and Voldemort regarded the wand he'd taken. "Not quite a match, but I suppose it's serviceable. Ensure they come along, Severus. We mustn't be late."
Snape jerked Draco up by the arm, half-dragging him over to where she still braced herself against the shelf. "Are you able to walk?"
She nodded, and the three of them followed the Dark Lord out of the Room. Only, to her surprise, as soon as they left, Voldemort turned right around, pacing three times in front of the blank stretch of wall. A new door appeared.
"Follow me."
They marched back inside, only now the Room was a tunnel, one they followed to another, different door. Voldemort opened it, revealing the Entrance Hall, seven floors below the Room of Requirement.
"Avada Kedavra," he casually intoned, and as she emerged Daphne heard the hysterical yowling of Mrs. Norris, fleeing further into the castle. She'd only just stepped over Filch's corpse when Voldemort grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her forward and flinging her outside, out into the frozen courtyard.
"Daphne, what-?" It was Harry, supporting the Headmaster like always. And just like always, they both looked much worse for wear.
She was shivering, whether from being outside in just her school uniform or out of fear, Daphne couldn't say. Harry needed only a single look at her face to recognise something was amiss, whipping his wand from his robes, just in time for the blue light of a Reductor Curse to arc out of the castle's door, blowing his holly wand to pieces.
"I dearly hope this mysterious power of yours doesn't require a wand," Voldemort said in a mocking tone as he stepped out of the castle into the courtyard. He nodded to the Headmaster. "Hello, Albus. You're looking every one of your one hundred and fifteen years."
"Tom," the Headmaster rasped, "You shouldn't have come here."
"Perhaps not," the Dark Lord agreed. "I expected this moment to be my greatest victory, and yet… Look at you! You're hardly able to stand, and my supposed 'equal' is already on his knees. How pathetic!"
"Severus…" Dumbledore said. "Please…"
Daphne was surprised to see what appeared to be genuine regret on the Dark Lord's face. "You need not beg him for a quick death. You were a great wizard once, Dumbledore, but seeing what you've become; well, let it never be said Lord Voldemort is not merciful. It is a shame to see you so decayed and decrepit. Avada Kedavra."
The acid green bolt of energy shot towards the Headmaster, streaking past him as Harry exploded upward, tackling Dumbledore out of the Killing Curse's path. The two of them rolled along the cobblestones together, and then Harry was on his feet, Dumbledore's wand in his mangled hand.
"POTENTIAM MALLEUS!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and a massive cone of crackling magical energy, more than a dozen feet across at its widest, blasted towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord showed a flash of surprise before an opaque, metallic sphere surrounded him. Seconds went by, cracks spider-webbing along the shield's surface as a continuous stream of magic poured into it. Finally, with a loud clarion ring, Voldemort's protection shattered, the smoking remains of Draco's wand falling from his hand, his own bone-white wand springing out and deflecting Harry's spell up and out of range at the last possible moment.
Breathing heavily, Harry stood over Dumbledore, wand still extended towards his opponent. Neither combatant took their eyes off the other, even as the rumbling cacophony of the severed Astronomy Tower, the unfortunate recipient of Harry's deflected spell, came crashing down, the impact practically shaking the ground upon which they stood.
"A Roman siege spell," Voldemort remarked. "Impressive."
"You shouldn't have come here, Tom," Harry said, repeating the Headmaster's words. "At least, not without more competent help. A greasy git and a pathetic ferret? Not much of an entourage."
Voldemort chuckled, pausing to regard Draco on his hands and knees, cradling the remains of his wand. "It's hard to argue with your appraisal of young Malfoy. I daresay, though, you should reevaluate your opinion of your professor. Severus is a most effective tool."
"I live to serve," the man in question muttered.
"It strikes me that your choice of allies is rather lacking, as well, Harry. A broken old fool and a lovesick girl, against the most fearsome Dark Lord in all of history?"
"Milord," Snape said, "As I said, Greengrass-"
"Silence!" he hissed. "Regardless of what she told you, that child is no follower of yours or mine. If you'd bothered to look into her mind, you would have seen the sincerity of her feelings." His words dripped with disdain. "Nevertheless, Greengrass, you did provide me with the full prophecy. I promised you a reward, and I shall not renege on my word."
A banisher fired out, smashing into her with the power of a charging hippogriff. Daphne tumbled away from the Dark Lord, rolling along the frozen ground to come to a rest a few feet from where Harry stood over the Headmaster. "There. I'll allow your beloved to die in your arms; or shall you die in his?"
Daphne rose to her feet, one hand on her aching head, the other reaching for… 'My wand!' she thought in dismay. 'Malfoy still has it!'
"I don't know what Snivellus has been telling you, but she's no beloved of mine," Harry said, barking out a laugh.
Snape's face twisted in utter hatred, but he did not move nor raise his wand.
"Oh my," Voldemort said, taking a single step forward, arms loose and relaxed at his sides. "Is this a lover's quarrel? I would have thought you'd scrounge for any scrap of affection you could get. With such a short life, why not live it to the fullest?"
"Life's full of uncertainty," Harry remarked in reply. "I might get hit by a lorry tomorrow. But I'm not overly worried about seeking out affection. You of all people surely understand what I mean, don't you? Growing up in that orphanage, dominated by those muggle childre-"
Like a coiled serpent, the Dark Lord struck, curses lancing out from his wand. Daphne recognised a Bone-Shatterer, an Organ Rupturer, along with more than a half-dozen she couldn't identify.
The instant the first spell left his wand, though, Harry flicked his own upward, a segment of the cobblestone courtyard rising upward, forming a barrier to intercept the attack, melting back to its original shape once the danger passed.
"Transfiguring enchanted stonework, a truly inspiring display!" The Dark Lord's voice sounded amused, but his posture was rigid. "And you've been giving Potter Acceptable's all this time, Severus?"
Harry loosened his tie, teeth bared in a faux approximation of a grin, but just like Voldemort, the tension around his eyes was unmistakable. The Dark Lord paced back and forth, walking a half circle, eyes locked onto Harry.
Eventually, he came to a halt. "I might have offered you a chance to flee, to scurry off and temporarily escape my wrath. For too long, Dumbledore has stood in my path, obstructing my inevitable victory. He made for a worthy opponent, rather than an insignificant historical footnote who-"
It was Harry who struck first, this time, lips moving soundlessly as he sent curses and hexes rocketing at Voldemort, striking his shields with a thunderclap. At every turn, Voldemort deflected, blocked, parried, and cancelled his attacks. A minute went by, then two, but Harry's outpouring did not relent for several more still, eventually slowing; his final spell, a simple Disarming Charm, spattered uselessly against a solid shield.
Daphne held her breath. For a moment, she'd thought- it had seemed like Harry might actually overpower the Dark Lord. But when the dust cleared, Voldemort was rooted exactly where he'd stood before, untouched and unconcerned, his shield vibrant and pulsing with power. There was a pause, and then his counterattack began.
While Harry was truly impressive, seeing the Dark Lord in combat was… awe-inspiring, in the strictest definition of the word. She'd never seen a wizard so effortlessly wield powers of that magnitude. Voldemort's spells ripped apart the courtyard, their mere passage tearing apart the cobblestones as he sent them cascading outward seemingly with no difficulty or concentration.
The earth itself trembled under his might. Acid fell from the sky in torrential downpours. Stone and rubble fused at his command, forming monstrous golems. Actual lightning flashed from the heavens, striking at Harry over and over.
She could do nothing but watch, little more than a useless bystander, stock still yet somehow miraculously eluding the side effects of the Dark Lord's rage.
Harry made an effort, just as Voldemort had, to intercept, parry, and counter the avalanche of attacks, but the overwhelming torrent eventually left him with no option other than to hunker behind a Shield Charm, standing over Dumbledore, gripping his wand with both hands, each battering blow weakening his protection more and more.
Daphne's hands ached from clenching her fists, furious and helpless, watching and waiting for the inevitable end to come.
A banisher collided with Harry's shield, and he stumbled backwards, off-balance and falling to the ground. It was the opening Voldemort was apparently waiting for, a triumphant 'Avada Kedavra!' excitedly spilling from his lips, the poisonous green light once more darting towards the Headmaster.
A clod of frozen soil, haphazardly thrown in front of Dumbledore suddenly expanded to the size of a school bag intercepted the Killing Curse, showering them both with dirt. The Dark Lord screamed in frustration, Harry having quickly pushed himself off the ground, moving back to a protective stance over Dumbledore.
His grin was back, but she could see Harry's weakness in the way his stolen wand wavered, how his knees wobbled. It couldn't end like this. She couldn't let it end like this!
A sinister purple light glowed at the tip of Voldemort's wand, and he reared back like a beater about to strike a bludger. Harry, whether from exhaustion or inexperience, overcommitted, a faded and weak shield flickering in front of him and the Headmaster.
Only, as the Dark Lord swung his wand forward, his spell launched towards a different target - towards Daphne.
She was paralysed, heartbeat pounding in her ears as the spell flew directly towards her. Involuntarily, she cried out, shutting her eyes and tensing in anticipation.
The impact never came. Daphne opened her eyes at the strangled grunt of pain, staring into Harry's unfocused green eyes, hearing his breath rattling in his lungs. He'd thrown himself in front of the curse for her.
He spun around, biting out "Sectumsempra!" through closed teeth as he fell forward to the ground. Daphne saw Voldemort's eyes widen at the unexpected riposte, but his fears were groundless; Harry's aim was well off the mark, flying far to the Dark Lord's left.
Collapsing face down, she could see the effects of the curse. Ugly, thorned vines grew out of Harry's flesh, his thick dark blood pouring in excess from the multiple wounds they left.
"No… Severus…" Dumbledore cried weakly, and Daphne tore her eyes off of Harry, certain Voldemort would now finish all three of them.
Instead, the Dark Lord was retreating, taking slow, cautious steps away from them, backing up so far he actually collided with Draco.
"Not again!" he muttered. "No! Not again!"
Daphne looked first to Dumbledore, motionless on the ground, then down to Harry, who was trying and failing to push himself to his hands and knees.
It wasn't Harry, though, from whom the Dark Lord retreated. It was her! Daphne stared at her hands in wonder, at the iridescent white light tracing its way from her fingertips, up her arms, her veins throbbing and radiating with a strange, foreign sensation.
Voldemort cried out, raw terror in his voice, latching onto Draco's collar and bursting into actual, unassisted flight, soaring into the sky and heading towards the Forbidden Forest.
"Come- get… back here!" Harry ground out, his voice whisper-quiet, but still managing to raise his good hand to his lips, letting out a piercing whistle. A faint, white dot came soaring towards them as Harry pushed himself onto one knee.
"Engorgio," he murmured, the spell striking Hedwig mid-flight and expanding her to twice the size of a pegasus. The enormous owl swept down, latching onto Harry's arms and carrying him off in the same direction the Dark Lord had fled.
It all happened in what seemed like an instant. Daphne exhaled the breath she first took when the Dark Lord targeted her, falling to her knees on the cold stone ground, in complete shock, not even noticing the gleaming light coalesce in the center of her chest and slowly fade into nothingness.
She might have stayed there all night, kneeling stunned at what just took place, but a wet gurgle snapped her out of her daze.
Daphne hauled herself to her feet, stumbling forward in the direction of the castle. Near the entrance, lying in a growing pool of his own blood, an increasingly limp hand pressed to the gaping wound on his neck, was her Head of House.
Harry's last spell had found its mark - just not the one he'd intended.
"Professor!" she gasped, pushing herself to move faster. Squatting on her heels next to his body, she instinctively reached for her wand only to remember - once again - it had been taken from her.
There was a sucking sound emanating from his wound, Snape's mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to draw breath. It was a sickening, horrible end. The hand he'd pressed against his neck flopped onto her arm, followed by a weak and practically nonexistent squeeze of his fingers.
"Don't try to speak, just hold on-" she said, leaning over him. Their eyes briefly met, and her head pounded once more; not as terribly as during Voldemort's assault, but painful nonetheless. She heard Snape's voice echo in her mind.
'Well done, Daphne.'
And then, silence. The flow of blood ceased, and Snape's coal-black eyes stared fixedly forward. She stayed there, crouched down next to his body, his hand still on her arm, until help arrived.
A squad of Ministry aurors on broomsticks were, surprisingly, the first to arrive, quickly giving the all-clear with a bellowing sonorous before taking off and flying for the castle's perimeter. Immediately following their signal, Flitwick, McGonagall, Slughorn, and Pomfrey all rushed out of the castle. While McGonagall and Slughorn attended to the Headmaster, helping him and carrying him back to the castle, Flitwick had his wand out, checking Daphne over.
"She's in shock," he said, gently removing Snape's hand from her arm. "Horace, do you have a calmative? Perhaps a general pain-reliev-"
"I think not," Slughorn said, peering closely at her face, tilting his head to the side as though the different angle might offer greater insight. "Miss Greengrass. Miss Greengrass!" He snapped his fingers, and then gently shook her by the shoulders.
Daphne blinked, nearly falling over, her legs numb from being crouched for so long. "Professor?"
"He's gone, dear, I'm sorry." Slughorn stood up, raising Daphne to her feet as he did so. "Did you take any potions today, Daphne? Think hard, please! Have you taken any potions?!"
"What are you-" Flitwick started to say, falling silent when Daphne replied.
"Luck," she mumbled, swaying on her feet.
"I thought as much," Slughorn nodded. "It's incredibly dangerous to combine Felix Felicis with any other magical draught. Let's get her to the infirmary, I suspect she's more than expended any good fortune that potion had to offer."
And just like that, she found herself once more in a sterile, starched bed within the Hospital Wing. A stack of blankets more than a foot thick were piled on top of her, a pillow placed under her feet, and a Seventh Year healing trainee planted in the seat next to her bed and told to alert Madam Pomfrey if it appeared Daphne was in any distress.
Completely drained from the frantic and terrifying events of the day, it didn't take long for her to lose consciousness. All too soon, though, hands shook her awake, pulling off the blankets to help her sit upright.
"Daphne! Please, you must wake up! Daphne!"
Groggy and uncoordinated, she fumbled, trying to fend off whoever was determinedly shaking her awake.
"Daphne, honey, it's me. Open your eyes, please!"
"Daddy?" she murmured, seeing his familiar features, wet lines of tears tracing down his cheeks. "What are you- why are you at school?"
"I've come to bring you home, sweetheart."
A clutching, panicked fist squeezed at Daphne's heart, her eyes now wide open. "What's happened?! What is it?" she demanded.
"It's your sister," he said, voice breaking as sobs fought to escape his throat. "Astoria is awake, and she's asked to see you."
A/N: How about that, huh?
Astoria Death Watch - no need for this anymore, amirite?
First, credit where credit is due: the idea for the 'twist' regarding Astoria's cure came from Kalaflul, who wrote an amazing alternate ending to A Malignant Ruse. No one's ever done a fanfic of my fanfics before, which was super cool, but Kalaflul's was so creative - albeit a bit too tragic for this fic - that I immediately changed the plot to accommodate their idea. Thank you!
Blood 'freely given'. I absolutely loved the take that it had to be sacrificial to work, rather than just handing it over in a safe and sterile way; it's so basic and raw (bloodshed!), but I never considered it that way. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.
Another thank you has to go to Wakefan (author of Dance of Death and Casting Shadows) who gave me incredible feedback in my server about the last chapter, especially regarding Snape's character arc and the similarities between Hermione/Fleur and Sirius/the werewolf incident.
Next: How about Draco camping out in the RoR for 3 months? I dropped the hint about Wormtail sneaking in food back in chapter… was it 21? It was a throwaway line in the chapter where Daphne slept in the empty classroom.
Additionally: Dumbledore was a lot worse off from the withering curse here, owing primarily to his constant and sustained use of grand magics while training Harry.
Kokko, the owl, is named after a mythological eagle from Finnish legends (recall Daphne's dad was born in Helsinki)
There's probably more I want to say, bc I'm pretty jazzed about how this chapter turned out, but I'll put a cork in it here. With that massive Sword of Damocles now resolved, I'll be working on other stuff for a month or two. Seventh Year isn't entirely plotted (though the ending's been decided). I wouldn't expect an update to AMR until the end of Dec/early Jan at the earliest.
A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles