Harry shot up from his bed, gasping as he tried to control the fear and anxiety striking him. He'd had the dream again. He'd been in the forest, with the whispers, those dreaded whispers. He'd stepped in the stream, hoping the water would aid his escape, but they kept coming. The last thing he remembered was a face, sunken sockets where the eyes should've been. Soon, it had whispered to him.
Harry looked around.
The clock on the wall said it was around three in the morning. The rest of the boys were fast asleep, impervious to the going ons of the world. Harry knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep for the rest of the night. He'd finally recognized where his dreams were occurring. He cast a glance in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.
He knew it was stupid, he knew it was reckless, but he'd be beside himself if he didn't go and check it out. With that thought, he gathered his things and set out.
Hogwarts at night was unlike anything else. The magic of the castle was still present, but instead of the liveliness of day it had a calm, quiet countenance. Under his invisibility cloak, Harry was the only one gracing the halls. Making his way to the great oak doors, he slipped out of the castle without a sound.
If Hogwarts the castle was ethereal at night, the grounds were more so. The goals of the quidditch pitch stood out in the soft moonlight. The chill of fall was beginning to set in, and the air was crisp. Harry slowly passed Hagrid's hut as his destination reared in front of him.
The Forbidden Forest stood in all of its menace, the trees stock-still. Not even a hint of a breeze slid through them, and there was a heaviness on Harry's shoulders that made him uneasy. Everything about the forest seemed set, as if immortalized in stone. Harry knew that it was anything but, and when he stepped in the cracks would begin to show.
He had to find the place in his dreams.
He stepped foot into the Forbidden Forest.
Immediately, he heard a rustle in the leaves, and the forest seemed to come alive around him. He heard creatures far away, and knew that he wouldn't want to come across them. Death's cloak would keep him safe, but even it had its limits.
As he walked, his thoughts kept him company.
What did his dream mean? It was eminently alarming, especially with the fact that it was happening in the Forbidden Forest, so close to his home. He hadn't wanted to think about it, but more and more it felt like a premonition of something terrible. Could he be seeing his death?
It would make sense. He hadn't made inroads on uniting the Hallows. The soonest he could get the Resurrection Stone would be the end of the year, and at this point he didn't know how long he had left. Was he meant to die in the Forbidden Forest?
It wouldn't do to go down that road, and his thoughts drifted to other things. There was one name that had been bothering him lately. Daphne Greengrass. He couldn't believe the gall she had to call his mother that slur. The purebloods of Slytherin were a prejudiced bunch, but most knew better than to openly display how bigoted they were. Behind closed doors, in the common room, was another matter.
The blonde was occupying his head, for her blatant disregard of common sense, and for the fury she had evoked in him. She could never compare to his mother, who by all the accounts he had heard of her was a genius. Exemplary in all fields of magic, a gifted witch that Death Eaters had feared.
Her memory shouldn't be tarnished by a pureblood bitch of a princess. Not to mention that Greengrass had insulted his only friend. Greengrass and her ilk didn't deserve to be allowed into Hogwarts, and it was disheartening that her class of rich, entitled bigots controlled the magical world.
She wasn't at the same level as Death Eaters, or the Slytherin boys who had assaulted Tracey, but Harry knew with these types it was only a matter of time before they moved onto bigger things. If he had to cross wands with Daphne Greengrass in the future, he knew who would be worse off.
He stopped in his tracks. There, at the edge of his range, he heard the telltale bubbling of a brook. He looked around, making note of the trees surrounding him. He'd lost his path, absorbed in his head, and couldn't tell which way he'd come from.
He took out his wand.
"Point me, Hogwarts."
His wand spun around, refusing to settle on a direction. He looked upon it in dawning horror. The noise of the stream seemed to get louder. Harry moved on, following the sound. When he came upon it, it was exactly as he'd dreamed it. He recognized the pattern of the trees, the stones jutting out of the stream, and the curve of it.
A foreign feeling clouded his head.
He shouldn't be here.
He broke out into a run, trying to get as far away from the stream as possible. He picked a direction, and sprinted. Whatever was influencing him, he didn't even trust the cloak to hide him from it. He wouldn't die, not like this.
The branches of the trees looked like they were reaching out at him, not wanting to let him go. He was lucky the cloak was indestructible, for it would surely have been torn by the claw-like branches if it were not. Run, run, run.
"Point me, point me, please!"
His wand now directed him.
It seemed like he had been running for an eternity, before he finally burst out of the forest beside Hagrid's hut. He fell to the ground, breaths wracking his body as he tried to get air. As he stared back into the forest, he was struck by a vision of the face with the sunken sockets and no eyes.
Not yet, it whispered to him.
Daphne stood outside the potion master's door. Classes had been hard that day, and she had done her best to avoid Potter. She could feel his and Davis's eyes staring into her back, harsh glares levied at her. Her friends hadn't said anything to her, just shaking their heads when they'd gotten done with Potions. She knew they weren't disappointed with her, as she had stood up for what was right, but she liked to think they were worried for her.
Still, she didn't know what to make of their silence.
Instead of rallying around her, they'd abandoned her. She should've expected it, and she couldn't hold it against them. It was only Slytherin to look after your own interests. It didn't mean they didn't care about her, or so she told herself.
She knocked on the door.
"Enter." the voice of Professor Snape beckoned her in.
The Potions classroom looked different when it was empty. The burners and cauldrons were scorched by years of use, but it was hard to take notice of it while they were using them. The torches flickered with a soft light, and Daphne met Professor Snape beside his desk. He examined her with a sharp gaze.
"You've been as foolish as your parents, Greengrass." Professor Snape said.
Daphne flinched as if she had been hit.
"I would ask you not to speak of my parents in that manner, Professor."
But her heart was filled with doubt. The letter her father had written her played on her, and she knew Snape was right. Her parents were being fools.
Snape ignored her.
"What I am about to tell you shall not leave this room. If I find that you have disobeyed my request, I will stop making the potions for your sister. And I will find out."
Daphne flashed in anger.
"Are you threatening me, Professor?"
"Yes," said Snape. "I am."
Daphne had no words to reply.
"You've been an idiot, Miss Greengrass. I would expect your foul behavior from the Gryffindors, but never from one of my snakes." he continued. "Your use of that slur was disgusting, and I shall never hear it from you in my presence again, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." Daphne said without emotion.
"I am a halfblood," he said. "And I am a very powerful wizard. So is Potter," his lip curled. "as you know."
He was talking about what he'd done to her friends. Professor Snape knew, and he hadn't done anything. She wasn't shocked by the revelation Snape was a halfblood. It was common knowledge, but the respect he had from his students made it a non-issue. Still, she could see that calling Potter's mother a mudblood would strike Snape in the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can do better," she said.
"Listen to me, Greengrass," he said. "I'm sure at some point you will discover that blood means nothing. It is power that controls the world."
Now that was just wrong. Her parents might be acting like fools, but they had taught her well. Purebloods were superior to halfbloods and mudbloods in every way. Magic was better.
"I'd have to disagree, Professor. Blood means everything."
"How so?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I'd like you to explain your reasoning." said Snape.
Daphne took a deep breath. She couldn't tell whether it was a trick or not. Snape seemed to notice her reluctance.
"You will not get in any more trouble, Miss Greengrass. I assure you, I'm just curious."
Daphne spoke her lines as if they were well-rehearsed.
"Muggleborns don't deserve their magic. Anyone with non-magical blood is filth," she said. "Magic is what makes wizards and witches special, magic is what marks us as superior. Those coming from the mundane don't have that. My family has been pure since the the age of Merlin, preserving our blood and traditions."
"Those born with magic from muggles are going to destroy that. They've stolen magic from those who deserve it, and they are trying to change our world for the worse. They aren't worthy of the gift!" Daphne continued.
"And how do you know this?" Snape asked.
"My parents. They informed both Astoria and I of the privilege we have, coming from magic, and of the alarming traits of muggleborns."
"Interesting, Miss Greengrass."
She expected him to argue with her, but he made no point to do so.
"To change the subject, our last conversation dealt with your sister," said Snape. "And you have made a grievous error."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I told you that there was another who may be able to aid you. That person is Harry Potter."
"What?"
"He is very knowledgeable in curses." said Snape. He offered no other explanation.
"Forgive me if I don't believe you, Professor."
Snape leaned forward, his eyes taking on intensity.
"Hush, child. I will not lie to you. The reason I paired you with Potter is because I knew he could help you. I hoped you would be able to put your blood nonsense aside and befriend him, but you have proved to be a disappointment. Your disgusting rant has pushed the one person who can save your sister out of your grasp."
"How can I believe that? He's only a fifth year, as am I." said Daphne.
"Age is often a deception. Potter is as impressive as the Dark Lord when he was that age, or so I am told."
Daphne knew Potter was capable of grand and terrible things.
"His knowledge in curses is rivaled by only Dumbledore, and you have displayed your reluctance to go down that route. Potter is competent."
"You're saying he could save Astoria?" Daphne asked.
No. She couldn't have ruined it already, her one goal.
"I believe he could." said Snape.
This changed things. She had to convince Potter to help her. But he would never, not after what she had said. He was friends with Davis, who she'd called his whore. She'd insulted his mother. She'd made a horrible mispass.
"How can I do this, Professor? How can I convince him to help me?"
"I do not know."
"Greengrass is bad news." said Tracey.
She and Harry were in the dungeons, which had quickly become one of her favorite spots in the castle. Harry was showing her an advanced bludgeoning curse, patiently correcting her wand movements and pronunciation.
"I know," said Harry. "I still can't believe what she said about you."
"I can," said Tracey. Her brow creased. "Me and Greengrass have history."
"Do tell," said Harry.
Tracey considered her next words.
"Ever since I can remember my mum told me to avoid the Greengrasses. She said that our family had bad blood, but she didn't tell me why until Hogwarts. The summer after first year, to be precise."
Harry's body turned to her, and there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
"The first time I met Daphne was after the sorting. We were moving into the dorms, and I remembered what mum had said, but I was young. I didn't really pay it any mind. Daphne's parents must've told her something similar, because when I reached over to shake her hand she spit on it."
"She sounds like a lovely child," said Harry.
"She's been probably my biggest enemy in Slytherin since then. The only thing I really knew about her family back then was that they're rich, and that her dad spent a couple years in Azkaban."
"For what?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. I haven't bothered to look it up, but I think it was something to do with the war." Tracey replied.
"A Death Eater, then?"
"Maybe," said Tracey. "At least, a sympathizer. Daphne bullied me throughout first year, and she turned the rest of my dorm-mates against me, not that they needed much convincing. I wrote to my mother about it, and she said she'd explain why when I got back."
Harry was actively listening.
"The reason there was bad blood between our families was because the Greengrasses did something to us. I don't know what, but it must've been terrible. My mother cursed the Greengrasses, with something very dark."
"The curse mum put into place eats away at the victim's health, killing them slowly over a period of years."
"So Daphne doesn't have very long to live?"
"Daphne will be fine, as will her parents. She was already born when my mother put the curse into place, and it couldn't retroactively put it on her. Her sister is the one that's dying."
"She has a sister?"
Tracey looked at him.
"It's pretty well-known she has a sister. She's in Slytherin too."
"I haven't exactly paid attention to who's who."
"Her sister's name is Astoria."
Harry was brought back to the sweet girl in the Hospital Wing. The one taking as many potions as him.
"Astoria," he said. "I've met her."
"I imagine she's just as much of a piece of work as her sister."
"Actually, I didn't get that impression."
Tracey was taken aback.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, when I talked to her she seemed… nice. Nothing like Greengrass."
"We're thinking of the same person, right? Third year Slytherin?"
Harry nodded.
"Auburn hair?" he asked.
"Yup," said Tracey. "You're saying she's not an asshole." Tracey stated.
"Not that I could tell," said Harry. "She complimented me for my treatment of Malfoy."
Tracey smiled.
"You know, that was when I really thought about us becoming friends."
She said the word almost reverently, but she realized their situation.
"My mum always said she regretted the curse," said Tracey. "She didn't want an innocent to suffer for the misdeeds of their parents."
"Daphne certainly seems like she'd deserve it," said Harry. "But it's hard to believe that Astoria got the short end of the stick. It's hard to believe they're sisters."
"I always got the impression that Daphne and Astoria were close. I'm surprised to hear Astoria's that different from her. Greengrass is definitely very protective of her."
"Can you blame her?" Harry asked. "Her sister is dying."
"I guess not," said Tracey. She chuckled darkly. "I could write a book on why I wish Greengrass was dead, but it's not fair of me to project that onto Astoria."
They both sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing how to proceed with the conversation.
Tracey wondered about Astoria. How could she correlate the image of her mother she knew and loved with the one who had cursed an innocent? The locket felt heavy around her neck. She hadn't had to think about it like this when she thought Astoria was exactly like Daphne.
But if what Harry said was true, and she had no reason to doubt him, Astoria didn't deserve to die.
She didn't know what had made her mother put the curse on the Greengrasses, but all she could do was live with the fallout.
"I guess there's not really much we can do," she said. "Except to live with how unfair the world is."
Harry laughed.
"You're probably right." he said.
Harry went to Potions early.
He was dreading it, but he couldn't run nor hide from it. It would be best just to get it over with.
Snape eyed him, but didn't speak. Harry knew that he would never separate him and Greengrass, even after the debacle. Snape had a way of quietly tormenting Harry, even if outwardly he paid him little attention.
What was he to do about Greengrass?
They'd still have to be partners, most-likely through the rest of the year. Even with the insight he had on Astoria, he couldn't bring himself to forgive what she'd said about Tracey. And nothing could excuse what she'd said about his mother.
The little racist should pay.
Even though he knew people like her, having lived with them for the past five years, it was still disheartening to see people with her viewpoint. This was what he was fighting against. This was why he would do whatever Dumbledore asked of him. To destroy the pureblood agenda that had ruined his life.
He didn't think about his parents very often anymore, but Greengrass had really brought the point up. He wondered if she knew his parents were dead, slaughtered by the Death Eaters the same night of the Dark Lord's downfall.
It was going to be Halloween soon. The anniversary.
He was shattered from his thoughts by a presence next to him. The moment he had been dreading came to pass. Daphne Greengrass took her seat beside him. She was silent, but watched him. She looked wary, and Harry almost laughed.
She knew what he was capable of.
He wouldn't attack her for her words, but she didn't have to know that. Snakes don't bite unless heavily provoked.
"Welcome back to Potions," Snape sneered. "It seems as if I am required to make myself very clear." he glared at Greengrass. "You may not like your partner, but I will not tolerate disruptions to my class. I would normally be above your petty disputes, but in this case they are exceptionally dangerous. The art of brewing is fragile, and one small mistake could land you in the Hospital Wing or worse."
He looked at Harry.
"Any purposeful sabotage could result in your expulsion, and I will personally contact the aurors to inform them of attempted murder. The instructions are on the board."
Harry and Greengrass exchanged no words. They silently set to work, Harry preparing the ingredients and Greengrass doing the actual brewing. It was evident both of them were skilled, Harry's hands working with much practice, and Greengrass artfully adding ingredients and stirring the concoction.
Neither could bring themselves to appreciate the other's handiwork.
They were making a restorative draught, a potion above the level of most of the class. The bubbling cauldrons and shimmering fumes gave them white noise that eased their focus, each of them working to a minute perfection. Their potion was a light lavender, exactly matching what it should be at this stage in the brewing.
Harry watched Greengrass. The undercurrent of tension and anxiety had never left her body, and she was lightly chewing on her lip. Her back was arched in a way that displayed the faintest hint of discomfort. He could tell something was on her mind, and she was stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking.
"What?" said Harry.
"Pardon?" Greengrass replied.
"What do you want? You keep staring at me."
She bit her lip even harder, and her face slightly scrunched.
"I… I wanted to apologize."
Whatever Harry was expecting, this wasn't it.
"You want to apologize?"
"Yes," she said, growing in confidence. "My behavior last class was despicable."
"I don't believe that."
"What?"
Harry sighed.
"I know your type, Greengrass. You're a bully. Bullies don't apologize unless they're forced to. Snape probably threatened you, coercing this." he opened his palm towards her.
Greengrass grimaced.
"Potter," she said. "I shouldn't have insulted Davis, and I shouldn't have said that about your mother. I'm sorry."
"I definitely don't believe that. Tell me, Greengrass, do you believe yourself superior to me because you're a pureblood?"
Greengrass looked resigned.
"Come on, Potter."
"Answer the question."
Harry could see a spark of flame in her eyes, and she breathed heavily through her nose.
"Yes, in fact, I do."
"Then your apology means nothing. You're set in your ways."
"Can't you see I'm swallowing my pride?" she hissed. "A Greengrass never apologizes, yet I'm breaking convention!"
"Why?" Harry asked.
Greengrass faltered.
"Because I need your help." she said.
Harry's lips pressed together. This conversation was not going like he thought it would.
"What makes you think I'll help you?"
"Because it's important, Potter!"
Their potion was was complete, and even with their conversation it was exemplary. They would have to fill a vial with it, and present it to Snape.
"No." said Harry.
Greengrass's face paled.
"You don't understand. I need your help."
"No." Harry said again.
"You don't even know what I'm asking for!"
"Well, ask someone else."
"I can't ask anyone else. You're the only one who can help me."
Harry took a step back from her. Why was Greengrass so adamant it had to be him?
"What would I be helping you with?" Harry asked.
Greengrass looked around, watchful of prying ears.
"I can't tell you."
"Are you serious? You're asking for my help, and you won't even tell me what it's about?"
"Not without an oath."
"I'll tell you what, Greengrass. Let's turn in our potion, then you can kindly fuck off. I'm not helping you, and I'm definitely not taking an oath."
"Please, Potter. I need this."
Harry ignored her, walking their potion to Snape. Greengrass followed him up, silent once more. Snape observed them, a bit longer than Harry was comfortable with. He turned their vial around in his hands.
"Acceptable. Go back to your seats."
Greengrass gasped.
"But, Profe-"
"No buts, Greengrass."
"It's a perfect potion!"
"Back to your seats!"
Greengrass turned to Harry, anger on her face, but caught herself. He noticed as she steadied her breathing. As they got back to their table, she whispered to him.
"Think about it, Potter."
"Think about it, Potter." she whispered.
She looked for any hint of him giving in, but couldn't read the look on his face. It was surprising, from what little she'd known of Potter, he wore his heart on his sleeve by Slytherin standards. But now, he gave no indication of what he was thinking, when she needed it most.
Her attempted apology was clumsy, and forced. It wasn't her fault, she didn't have much experience apologizing. He was right when he'd said Snape had forced her hand, but it wasn't in the way he was thinking. She'd had to apologize, for Astoria's survival.
As the seconds ticked on, she resigned herself on not getting a reply.
The rest of the class passed in a daze. She wasn't used to failure, and she wasn't used to the hit on her pride. She swallowed thickly, her hands running down the spine of her textbook. She hadn't even gotten an O on the potion.
"Class is dismissed."
She sat as her classmates moved on, Potter included. He was one of the first ones out the door, and she felt a little bit better. If she had to suffer through him, at least he was suffering through her. She gathered herself. Snape looked at her as she left, but she refused his eye. She couldn't bear to see the sick mixture of pity and satisfaction that was sure to be there.
She walked back to her dorm.
Her mind was purposefully empty, and she knew the thoughts would come as soon as she was in a private place. Her parents would be proud of her right now, she was maintaining her mask even as she was in turmoil, just like they'd taught her. It was her eyes that would give her away. They were as cold and blue as the Atlantic, but they shone with the same emotion of the ocean. Try as she might, her eyes had always been her weakness. Another reason why she couldn't look at Snape.
She spoke the password monotonously, entering the common room. She ignored her friends as she strode up the steps to her dorm. She lay on her bed, and drew the curtains around her.
It dawned on her. She had embarrassed herself.
Potter had twice been the instrument of her losing her cool, and she hated him for it. She should have never let herself be in this situation in the first place. Everything was so convoluted, and it had started when she'd confronted Davis. Daphne was having trouble keeping track of all the mistakes she'd made since the term began, and this was just the latest.
Her half-baked, ham-handed apology was a terrible idea. She had been groveling by the end of the conversation. But she'd left herself with no other options.
What could she do next?
She couldn't take no for an answer, that much was evident.
Perhaps she'd taken the initiative too quickly. She should've given him time to cool down after the incident, the wounds were too fresh. Maybe she shouldn't have said what she said in the first place. Remorse was a foreign feeling to her, and one that didn't fit. Remorse would've required her to feel guilt, when what she truly felt was shame.
She was ashamed of her actions, but she didn't feel guilty for them. She was right. Potter was beneath her, and so was Davis. They were halfbloods. How could she feel guilty about speaking facts? No, she was ashamed that her actions had put an obstacle in the way of her one goal.
She had to save Astoria. Her father's words came back to her. A Greengrass never bows down. No matter what, she couldn't give up. Obstacle was the perfect word for it. This was just an obstacle, and one that she would find her way around.
She would work on Potter, slowly break down his defenses, and convince him to help her. She would stop at nothing.
But consorting with halfbloods came at a cost. If her parents got wind of her asking for Harry Potter's help on a family matter, there would be hell to pay. She was going against all that her family stood for, and she had to remind herself that it was worth it. It would be better to have a family that hates you than a family with one member missing. And wouldn't the ends justify the means?
Next steps. What were her next steps?
Come up with a better apology. She'd have to act like she meant it. No, Potter wasn't stupid. Maybe if it was a Gryffindor they'd believe the lie of her suddenly coming to her senses about blood purity, but never a Slytherin. She was a good actress, but not a miracle worker.
She'd have to convince him of the importance of her work. But she couldn't do that without an oath. How could she convince him to make an oath?
The answer came to her, and it wasn't a surprising one. She'd have to pay him. Potter wasn't rich, rumor had it his family vaults had been emptied into the war effort. He was a Slytherin, he wouldn't object to making a quick bit of coin.
It would have to be a big offer, probably one she'd have trouble affording. The Greengrasses were well off, but her trust vault only reached so far.
But it would be worth it.
She'd approach Potter the next opportunity she got.
Halloween at Hogwarts was always a ceremonious affair. Pumpkins lined the walls, some floating into the air, and bats fluttered around them in a great storm. The sky reflected onto the Great Hall's ceiling was black and moody. Tracey loved Halloween. It was the night of the Dark Lord's defeat, which always brought rapturous celebration throughout the wizarding world.
The thought brought a warm feeling into her chest. Even though she'd been too young to remember the war, from the stories her mother had told it'd been horrible. But war might not be far away.
She believed Harry when he said the Dark Lord was back. This might be the last Halloween that people enjoyed before dark times, and Tracey was intent on ignoring those inhibitions for now.
She looked around the Slytherin table. Waiting for Harry was always hard, she could feel the eyes of her housemates drift towards her when she wasn't looking. This had been the first time words weren't following the looks. She hadn't been insulted since that night in the corridor where Harry had saved her.
If she wasn't overjoyed at having a friend, the Slytherin side of her would've been overjoyed at making a powerful ally.
As the minutes passed, she wondered where Harry was. He'd seemed down the last time she'd seen him, for classes earlier in the day. He'd immediately retreated to the dormitories when they'd gotten back, saying less than a word to her.
Something was wrong.
She got up from her spot on the bench. It would be the first time she'd skipped the Halloween feast, but Harry was more important. She could think of a few places he'd be, but it was most likely going to be the dungeons. She shuddered as she thought of the walk that awaited her. She hadn't tried to go to the dungeons by herself since that fateful night.
As the artwork grew more macabre, she knew she was getting close.
She found him in their regular spot, staring blankly at the wall. In his hands was a photo album, opened to a picture of a redheaded woman with brilliant green eyes, and a man who looked exactly like him. His parents. He noticed her presence.
"Tracey?"
"Harry."
"What're you doing here?"
"Checking up on you. You've been off all day."
He chuckled.
"I have, haven't I?"
She sat beside him, glancing curiously at the photo album.
"Looking at some family pictures?"
He paused, as if thinking something over. He turned his head towards her.
"My parents died on Halloween," he said. "I haven't felt like celebrating today."
Tracey sucked in a breath. That was a good explanation of his mood.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you mind if I sit?"
"Be my guest."
She calmly sat beside him, peering at the photo album. She could feel her locket on her chest.
"What were they like?" she asked.
"I don't remember them," said Harry. "They died when I was a baby. This," he held up the album. "And my cloak are all I have left of them."
Tracey looked harder at the picture.
"That's not true." she said.
Harry looked at her quizzically. She pointed at the picture.
"You have your dad's looks, and your mum's eyes."
He smiled.
"That I do."
"If you don't mind me asking, how did they die?"
The smile was wiped off his face.
"Death Eaters. The same time as Longbottom's parents. Dumbledore tells me that Voldemort went after the Longbottoms, and the Lestranges went after my parents."
Tracey grimaced.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
"Don't be."
It was Tracey's turn to think. Time would tell if she made the right decision.
"My mother died over the summer," she said.
Harry looked at her.
"She was sick for a long time. I still wasn't expecting her to die."
"Tracey…" Harry said.
Tracey laughed bitterly. She pulled the locket out and flicked it open, showing Harry the picture.
"She was beautiful," said Harry.
"You and I are so alike in so many ways," said Tracey. "My father died when I was young. We're a sad pair of orphans."
"How'd he die?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. Mum never told me."
"You never asked?"
"No," said Tracey. "It would've stressed her out, and I never felt the need to know. He wasn't there, it wouldn't have changed anything."
"I can understand that," said Harry. "For me, at least, I feel almost guilty. It's hard to miss something you never had."
"Yet you're still sad today."
"I know," he said. "But it's more a sadness for what could've been, rather than anything else."
Tracey sighed.
"I know exactly what you mean."
"A sad pair of orphans indeed."
They sat in companionable silence. The darkness of the dungeon cast shadows on their faces, and Tracey could tell the time was passing quickly. The feast must be over by now.
"Let's walk." she said.
"Where too?" asked Harry.
"I didn't eat, and I'm hungry. Let's scrounge for scraps in the Great Hall."
"I know a better place we could go," Harry smirked. "The kitchens."
"Well, what're we waiting for?"
Halloween night. The day Harry dreaded every year was almost over. As he sat in his bed, he reflected on what actually wasn't so bad of a day. It had started out rough, visions of the past haunting him, but Tracey had gotten him out of his funk rather well. They'd spent the rest of the day together, gallivanting through the kitchens and onward throughout the castle.
He'd shown her a few of the secret passages he'd stumbled over in his own exploration, and she had been suitably impressed with his knowledge. It gave him a feeling of completeness, as if she had always been meant to be beside him. If this was what having friends was like, he wondered why he hadn't tried in the first place.
The rest of the Slytherin boys were off doing who knows what, probably in the common room having a party. The Halloween celebrations were always raucous, and of course Harry had never been invited. Not that he'd wanted to go, the day had always been solemn for him, but especially in his first year it had illustrated how isolated he was.
He got up, heading towards the bathrooms to take a shower.
He fell down, a massive spike of pain shooting through his head. He screamed, his voice hoarse and cracking. As he writhed around on the floor, no one came for him.
His eyes were tormented by flashes of light, coalescing into spectral forms. the light slowly faded away, settling into dark. He was in the forest. The whispers were surrounding him. He was running, as fast as he could.
He could tell something was following him.
This time, the whispers spoke to him.
Now, now, now!
He woke up on the floor of the dormitory. There was something wet running down his face, and he touched his fingers to his cheek. They came back red. He got up, slowly, and all but sprinted to the mirror.
Blood was coming out of his eyes and nose.
He turned the water on in the sink, and splashed his face. Little droplets of blood lined the white ceramic, but when he looked up again his face was clean.
The forest was calling him.
He got dressed quickly. He forgoed robes, putting on black trousers that were sturdy enough to protect him from branches and thorns. His shirt was dark as the night, long-sleeved, offering the same protections as the trousers. He stuffed his cloak in his pocket. He'd need it in the forest.
He forced himself to walk slowly down the stairs into the common room.
The party was in full swing. There was a keg of butterbeer, with a very small pile of goblets next to it. The rest were in the hands of Slytherin students from almost all the years, bar the ones too small to be given alcohol. Harry saw quite a few bottles of firewhiskey making the rounds. The music was blasting, and everyone looked to be enjoying themselves.
There was a small cluster of students hanging back from the crowd, and as he made his way out the door, he saw one of them was watching him.
He caught the blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass staring at him as he left.
Daphne didn't care for Halloween. She much preferred the Winter Solstice, as the celebrations were quieter and it was closer to her birthday. That's not to say she wasn't enjoying herself. Parties in the common room were one of the few times she was able to talk with her sister.
"Astoria! You shouldn't be drinking!"
"Everyone else is doing it," Astoria said flippantly as she held her glass closer to her.
"You're only a third year."
"I know for a fact you hit the firewhiskey in your third year. Eleven-year old me was confused as to why you woke up vomiting after your first Hogsmeade weekend."
Daphne was cowed.
"How are your classes going?"
"Alright. You were right about Umbridge."
"When am I ever wrong?"
Astoria laughed.
"Don't get me started."
"I haven't been able to talk to you in weeks, and you make fun of me. How's that supposed to make me feel?" Daphne said with a smile.
"Don't jest. You know I love you," Astoria replied. "What have you been doing?"
Daphne flinched minutely at the words, but it was enough for her sister to notice.
"I heard about what happened with Potter," Astoria continued.
"Did you?" Daphne replied. She wished that was the only thing bothering her.
"I did," she said. "I think you should apologize."
Daphne looked at her sister.
"What?"
"I think you should apologize." Astoria said, this time a little stronger.
"Why?"
Astoria was saved from answering when Daphne noticed Potter coming down the stairs. Astoria followed her gaze, and looked at her encouragingly.
"Go, now." Astoria said.
Potter turned at the door to the common room, and she caught his eye. He didn't acknowledge her as he left.
"I'll be right back," said Daphne. "Don't wait up for me."
Astoria smiled.
"I'm proud of you." she said, but Daphne was already gone.
She rushed out the common room door, and saw Potter's feet rounding the corner. She took off after him.
"Potter!" she said.
She heard his footsteps as he kept going. She rushed around the corner but he was gone. She kept on. It wouldn't do for her to lose an opportunity like this. Everyone else was at the party, no one would see her cavorting with him.
She ran, again seeing the backs of his feet as he went up the stairs.
She rushed up, and noticed the door to the entry way of Hogwarts swinging shut. SHe followed him out onto the grounds, seeing his figure in the distance. He either hadn't noticed her, or didn't care that she was pursuing him.
He was past Hagrid's hut, approaching the Forbidden Forest.
The forest.
What had been a silent night was suddenly filled with whispers.
She tried to turn back, towards the door, but she knew she couldn't.
As Harry Potter entered the Forbidden Forest, Daphne started to sprint. She blew past Hagrid's hut, a white blur in the night, to the spot where Potter had entered. Without thinking, she followed him in.
It was damp in the forest. She followed his footsteps in the mud.
Harry thought he heard something behind him. No, only those damned whispers.
Daphne was stumbling, not able to see in front of her. She drew her wand.
"Lumos!"
The trees were taunting him. They led him in circles, he was sure of it. He hadn't explored the forest as much as he should've in his previous years, but he still knew the edge of it like the back of his hand. But that knowledge wasn't helping him now.
The footprints were getting fainter as the forest floor dried, the canopy of trees shielding the ground from the elements. The soft light emanating from her wand still wasn't doing enough. She couldn't tell where she was going.
He was reminded of Hansel and Gretel, but he only had his intuition to guide him home. Though not even the breadcrumbs had saved them. He tried not to think about the witch.
The whispers were soft, but they were still there. It was like wolves around a fire. If it died, she knew the would close in. She had to find Potter.
He was being followed. At first he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him. But he heard something crashing behind him, clumsy in its pursuit. He drew his wand.
She was getting closer. She could feel it. At first she'd felt alone in the forest, subjected to its whims, but she could feel a presence ahead of her. She and Potter would need each other to get out of here.
He saw the light before he saw the person. He slid behind a tree to hide. As it grew closer, he realized it was a person.
"Greengrass?"
She watched as stepped out from behind a tree.
"Potter," she gasped. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Suddenly, the whispers grew loud, and they heard a great lumbering coming from behind them.
"Run!" Daphne yelled.
Harry needed no encouragement.
The forest grew alive around them. Branches jutted out into their path, cutting any skin that was uncovered. Gnarled roots grew from the ground, causing them to stumble. They were being chased, they could tell. Over the whispers they heard ragged breathing, drawing ever closer, coating their ears and revealing their fear.
The smell of death, disturbingly sweet, hung over them in a thick cloud. It wanted them, called to them. Give up, give in.
Death was coming.
"Greengrass!" Harry yelled, not pausing a step. "We have to hide!"
"It'll catch us," she all but screamed. "I'm not dying here!"
Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her down. They both tumbled, sprawling over the forest floor.
The beast was almost upon them.
Harry's hand desperately reached into his pocket, removing the cloak. Daphne's eyes were wide, the whites shining in the night. Harry threw the cloak over them and gathered her in, holding her close to his body. Her mouth opened, and he could tell she was about to scream. He shoved his hand over her mouth, and brought her head close to his.
"It's an invisibility cloak, keep quiet," he whispered. Her eyes met his and she nodded, removing his hand.
They stayed like that as the whispers grew louder, and thudding footsteps surrounded them. They could hear as the beast sniffed around them, looking for something, anything that could show it their presence. Seconds felt like hours, as it came closer and closer to their hiding spot. Daphne thought her harsh breaths would be the death of them, and did all she could to stifle her breathing.
Finally, it moved on.
No longer could they feel its hulking presence around them, and the footsteps drifted away into the night.
But the whispers never left.
"Can you hear them too?" Daphne asked.
"Yes," said Harry.
"They've been haunting my dreams," said Daphne. "No matter where I go, I can't escape them."
He looked at her sharply.
"You've been having dreams like this?"
"Almost every night."
"In the forest?"
"This forest," she breathed. "This is the forest."
He relinquished his grip on her, and they stood up.
"I think we should keep the cloak on," said Harry. "We don't know if it'll come back."
"Have you been having dreams too?" Daphne asked.
"Like you," said Harry. "Almost every night."
"This isn't good," she said, almost hyperventilating. "I don't know what it means, but it's not good. Shared dreams are close to Divination."
Harry nodded.
Their conversation was interrupted by the bubbling of a brook. The entire time, they'd been next to a stream.
"The stream." he said.
She looked at him again, horror in her eyes.
"In my dreams, I always follow it," she said. "I don't think we should do that."
"I think we have too." said Harry. "But, wait."
He led her around, looking for footprints, for hair, for any evidence of the beast that had chased them. There wasn't a single blade of grass misplaced.
"It's like it was never here," he said.
"It might not have been," said Daphne.
"Something wanted us to come here," said Harry.
"What do we do?" Daphne asked.
"We go on." said Harry.
And they followed the stream. The water was clear, the rocks that made up the bed easy to see, even in the dark. The silt didn't rise, nothing clouding the water.
The whispers followed them, quiet now. As if they were anticipating something. Both Daphne and Harry could feel their anxiety, the whispers were barely waiting for them to go on.
The stream seemed to stretch on forever. Bushes began to obstruct their path, and the duo pulled their wands, cutting curses echoing through the trees. The stream widened, and opened into a clearing.
The whispers were silent, but Harry and Daphne weren't eased. A feeling of panic overtook them.
"No, no, no!" said Harry.
Daphne reached for his hand, pulling it to her.
The water was broken by rivulets of red, blood floating through it and on. Ahead of them, in the middle of the clearing which the stream cut through, a figure sat washing clothes.
She was a monster, naked, with bruised, rotting flesh lining her back. The clothes she washed were smothered in sickness, caked red with dried blood. She turned to them, her sagging breasts down to her knees, and smiled. Harry could tell death's cloak meant nothing to her, and she could see right through to them.
Her teeth were sharp, ground to fine points, and her nose was bent into an odd position. Where her eyes should've been, hollow sockets stretched into her skull. She raised her arms towards them, pointing to them.
"Greengrass," she said.
And the clearing exploded with the cawing of crows. The black birds flocked to their master, buffeting Harry and Daphne to the ground. Harry screamed, his voice hoarse from the strenuous adventure that led them to this place.
The crows covered the figure, obscuring her from view, and when they parted she was gone.
Daphne was crying on the ground.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Our fears weren't unfounded," said Harry, his voice breaking. "We have to get to Dumbledore."
"What was that?" Daphne spoke again.
"That was a bean-nighe," said Harry. "A harbringer of death."
A/N: Back again! Please review, it keeps me going!