Chapter Eight: The Terrible Truth
It didn't take a genius to realise that something was wrong with Harry. Daphne could tell the moment she and Tracey entered the Room of Requirement for the latest DA meeting. Early as ever, she, Ron, Tracey and Harry would usually gather round and talk before the others got there. Sometimes Hermione would join in, other times she would simply sit on one of the cushions and take out a book and begin reading until more people arrived.
This time though, when the girls entered it was only Ron who joined them. Harry, for the first time, remained with Hermione. He occasionally sent them furtive glances, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't pluck up the courage to walk over and say it. Daphne was horribly reminded of the boys that used to stare at her sister across the Common Room for the Yule Ball. The only thing was they were usually egging each other on or gawping slightly. Harry just looked incredibly nervous.
Ron, at least, was his normal self and the three of them spent the next half an hour debating the finer points of Tracey's Seeker training and what she had to do if Harry's plan to derail Malfoy actually came off. Montague had never expressly said he hated her, but that was probably because he had no idea who she was. Getting him onside would be crucial, but as Tracey carried on panicking about what it would be like to fly against Harry, Daphne couldn't help but keep looking at him.
"You alright?" Tracey asked when, for the fourth time, Daphne stopped paying attention to their conversation.
"What? Sorry, yeah," Daphne said quickly, dragging her gaze away from Harry.
"He's been weird all week," Ron told her, spotting who she had been looking at. "It's not you guys."
Reassured, but nevertheless concerned, Daphne forced herself to start paying more attention to the two people in front of her rather than the black haired boy who was determinedly avoiding her gaze.
The room eventually filled up and the lesson began. As usual they split into pairs, with Daphne joining Neville and Tracey partnering up with Ron and Hermione. Harry floated around but seemed reluctant to come over and when he eventually did it was only to correct Neville's stance as he and Daphne continued throwing hexes at one another. Whatever Ron thought, Daphne knew all too well that she was in fact the problem.
The trouble was, she couldn't think what she had done. She'd barely seen Harry all week. He had missed their Quidditch practice, after Ron had told them he had woken up feeling a bit ill, and then they never really shared classes - apart from Potions. It was strange, not talking to him. Over the last few weeks she had grown to be friendly with him, in a way. The two of them had a strange kind of kinship that neither acknowledged. Behind Tracey he was probably the person she had formed the closest connection with in the DA.
"Great work everyone, really good." Harry said when nine o'clock rolled around. "I think we're taking a bit of break next week because of Quidditch."
"Here, here." said Angelina loudly, glaring in Tracey and Daphne's direction. Katie Bell had already ended up in the Hospital Wing courtesy of Crabbe and Goyle, and Alicia Spinnet had been the victim of a stray hex in the corridors last week. Tensions were at all time high between the houses, as they always were in the build up to a Quidditch match.
"So I'll let you all know the plan in the usual way," Harry continued. "But keep practising, if you can, and when we get back I think we'll be looking at doing some duelling to see where we've all got to."
There was a ripple of excited murmuring at this, before people began dispersing. Daphne and Tracey, as usual, waited for the others to leave before the door to the dungeons appeared. Ron and Hermione were clustered around Harry, who was saying something in hushed tones to them and then they nodded, Ron frowning, before heading for the door themselves.
"You coming?" Tracey asked, she was already at the door and looking more confused than even Ron.
"Er, later. I just…"
"Right, cool. I'll see you in a bit." Tracey said knowingly and sparing Daphne from a very awkward and suddenly loud explanation. The door closed behind her with a small click and it faded into the wall, leaving Harry and Daphne alone. The room suddenly felt huge and Daphne was acutely aware of her hair drooping over her face. Fumbling, she tugged it behind her ear and walked towards Harry, waiting for him to say something. Instead of managing speech, he looked at bookshelves, straightening the books.
"So," Daphne began, a little awkwardly.
He said nothing. He didn't even look up, continuing to be intently preoccupied with the spine of Defence for the Defenceless: A Guide to Protecting Muggles.
"I'm guessing you wanted to talk to me? And that's why you've been giving me the silent treatment all night," it sounded spiteful and it was. She didn't take kindly to being ignored with no explanation. Harry's back stiffened, but he still didn't turn round.
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean… it's just… I didn't, well, I didn't know how to bring it up. It's not exactly easy."
"You don't fancy me, do you?" asked Daphne, concerned.
"What?" Harry asked stunned, before quickly adding, "no. It's nothing like that."
"Then what? It can't be that bad, surely?" He said nothing, but finally turned to her, his eyes keeping a fixed gaze on a point just above her head. "Harry?"
"It's your dad."
"What about him?" Daphne asked icilly, the wave of nerves that had been washing over her turning into a veritable tsunami. There was only one conversation anyone wanted to have with her about Elijah Greengrass and it was one she never wanted to have, even with Astoria. She had been too young to remember it, but Daphne could. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't.
"He was a Death Eater," Harry prompted.
"Who told you that?"
"My, er, godfather," Harry said a little awkwardly.
"Right, and let me guess, he also told you my dad killed himself a few years after You Know Who vanished too." Harry nodded. "And that matters, why? You think I'm some kind of trainee Death Eater spying on you?" She didn't let him answer, her heart racing as her anger pulsed through her. "You know what, I don't care. It doesn't matter. My father is none of your business. It's no-one's business. Not yours, not Tracey's, no-ones. Understand?"
"What am I meant to think?"
"Nothing. Because I'm not my father, nor am I my half-breed hating mother. I'm me. Pure and simple," she could feel herself shaking, her heart racing and her fists clenching and unclenching. "But I guess that isn't good enough, is it?"
"You know that's not what I mean."
"Oh, isn't it? Then what do you mean, hmm? What exactly are you trying to say, Harry? Because I thought you of all people would understand. I mean, everyone is happy to tell you about your life, your parents, how great they were and you don't even know them. At least people are lining up to love yours, bit different when you're the daughter of a disgraced Death Eater."
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to say anything. Really. But Voldemort's back, Daphne. You've got to understand, I have to be sure."
"Then trust me, you did before." Daphne snapped, fighting back the tears of frustration that were welling up in her eyes. She hated talking about this, hated the look everyone gave her. Like they knew what it was like. No-one knew, no-one even had anything that came close.
"You could be related to anyone, Bellatrix LeStrange, Sirius Black, any of them. You probably are, somewhere along the line, so does that make you a Death Eater? No. It doesn't. You're the Boy Who Lived, but look back at your family, Potter. Look at them and tell me you're happy with what you see. You probably have no idea."
She hadn't meant to call him 'Potter' but the white hot fury that burned through her veins made her want to do much more than restore old boundaries. "Then tell me, explain it to me because I don't get it. How can someone like you could have a mum and dad like that?"
"Someone like me?"
"Decent, nice, kind," said Harry with a sincerity that took Daphne by surprise. His eyes were glued now on Daphne. Emerald green and filled with heartfelt truth. "And who doesn't hate muggleborns. You're ambitious, and single-minded, and smart, and it just doesn't make sense to me."
"You really want to know?" And you're really going to tell him? It was the first time she'd told anyone about her father for years. Everyone in her family conveniently forgot he existed, dare they speak the name of a man, a good man, driven to… to that. "And what if I don't want to tell you? What then?"
"I can't say I'll go right back to how things were," he answered honestly, "but you're right. People tell me how great my mum and dad were, and all I've got is a bunch of photos and…" he paused, swallowing hard, "and the sound of Voldemort killing her."
"You can remember it?" But he'd been a child. A baby. Barely old enough to talk.
"I didn't used to, but then when the Dementors came, they made me, sort of, hear it But that's not my point," he said quickly, clearly not wanting the same pity she so loathed, "my point is, I get it. If you'll tell me, I want to know. But I'm not going to make you."
Daphne sighed, She didn't want to do this. She wanted to leave. She wanted to carry on running, like she always had done. But, for once, she finally had someone who might get it. Who might just about understand. Years of being alone with it all, being trapped without telling anyone made her look around for somewhere to sit.
A plump armchair appeared before her, dark red and with brown studs working their way up the rounded arms. With resignation and disbelief at what she was about to do, she sat down gingerly. It was her turn to avoid Harry's gaze and she stared resolutely at the floor, her heart heavy and her mouth suddenly dry.
"I don't know all of it," she started. "Dad was one of them before I was born, at least that's what everyone thinks. I don't know if it's true. Mum wouldn't say. You see, You Know Who wanted allies. Most of them joined willingly, but some families didn't agree with everything he had to say. Some of us didn't like Muggles being murdered or Muggleborns being tortured. So, instead of killing precious purebloods, he'd curse them, lock them away inside themselves.
"What I'm trying to say is… he was under the Imperius Curse. He'd never hurt anyone normally but You Know Who figured he'd be a good set of eyes in the Ministry. Mum didn't notice, they'd never really been on great terms. It's a miracle we were born to be honest with you."
Melissa Greengrass' sour expression floated to the forefront of her mind, twisting the dagger lodged in her heart even further. For years Daphne had found herself wishing it had been her, not her father, who had left. Why did she have to end up with her? The woman gave Daphne as much love as she would a House Elf.
"Anyway," Daphne sighed, forcing thoughts of her mother away. "When you did whatever it was you did, dad slowly came back to his senses. The thing they don't tell you being under that curse, you remember what you've done. You live it, every second and you can't look away. So dad, as far as he was concerned, did kill all those people. He did attack families, he did pass information about Muggleborns that saw them tortured. He did all of it and he hated himself for it.."
Her voice was shaking but she still refused to look at Harry. She did not want to see the pity in his eyes.
"So, shockingly, he just couldn't get past it. He tried. Merlin knows he tried, but there was no-one to talk to. They just checked over his head for dark magic and off he went. No-one asked how he was, how he coped. No aftercare or Healers checking up on him. After he left St. Mungo's barely anyone believed him anyway. Lucius Malfoy saw to that by just breathing. Everyone knew he was lying about being Imperioused so why not my dad too?
"One day, I don't know why, I guess it just got too much. Mum found him in his study. It was a Sunday. I'd been playing in the garden. I didn't even get to say goodbye. One day he was there, the next…"
There were tears running down her face now, she wasn't sure when she had started crying. She didn't even see Harry move, or register that he was moving to hug her, all she felt was his skinny arms wrap around her. It was a strange hug, hesitant but firm, but that didn't stop it meaning the world to her. For the first time since her father had died, she had spoken to someone who didn't hate him for it, who would listen.
Daphne wasn't sure how long they sat there like that. Eventually she pulled away, dragging herself back from the edge her words had pushed her too. She sniffed and angrily pushed her tears away. She hated crying, especially in front of people. Merlin, he probably thought she was pathetic. Her mother would. Did, actually. Astoria probably wasn't far behind.
"Sorry," she sniffed.
"I get it. Really."
Of course he did. He was Harry Potter. The famous orphan that saved the world.
What was worse? Knowing what you were missing or never having anything in the first place?
"I didn't even know they were magical," Harry continued, "my aunt and uncle told me they died in a car crash. I only found out about Hogwarts when I got my letter. Hagrid gave it to me."
"You didn't get an owl?"
"I got quite a few actually," Harry laughed hollowly, "my uncle didn't really like the idea. He would burn the letters or rip them up before I could read them. Took us to the middle of nowhere to try and avoid them, Hagrid found me and then took me to Diagon Alley. He told me about Voldemort, my parents, everything."
"That's why you like him so much."
"There's more to Hagrid than people think," Harry said defensively. "Just like you."
"Have to tell your godfather that," Daphne said bitterly. That was a point though, who was his godfather? The thought tugged at the back of her mind, which was looking for any path to walk down so as to shut out memories of her dad. His smile, what she'd seen of it, the ludicrous collection of model Quidditch players and their broomsticks, his glasses, the smell of the firewhiskey he'd always have by his side on an evening. "Do you live with him now, now that you know about all of this?"
"No, still with my aunt and uncle," Harry told her, a little uncomfortably. "He can't look after me, not yet. He lives abroad."
"Right," Daphne nodded, filing that piece of information away for later. There were times when she wasn't a mess that she could quiz him about this mysterious godfather. Times when they were not talking about her dad or he wasn't asking her to justify their friendship. She wanted to be angry with him, wanted to rage and shout and lose her temper, but the way he had hugged her, had come to her and asked rather than just assumed she was her father's daughter. It meant, well it meant a lot.
"I'm sorry for how I reacted," Daphne said quietly, "I'm… I don't like talking about him. You're the first person I've talked to about it all in years."
"I'm sorry I had to ask."
"No, it's fine. I get it. You're just being careful. You've got to be really, what with You Know Who and everything."
"Are you saying you believe me?"
"I'll let you into a secret," Daphne smiled, unable to contain herself because of the earnest grin spreading across his pale face. "I always did. You just learn not to tell people too quickly what you think, they can use it against you. But I trust you."
"I'm honoured."
"You should be, I trust few people in this world. Never thought one of them would be a Gryffindor."
"I never thought I'd be friends with a Slytherin," Harry shrugged.
"What a pair we make," Daphne smiled, watching as Harry grinned back at her. If anyone had told her at the start of the year she would have spoken to him, she'd have laughed in their face. It really was amazing what a month could give her and, she reflected remembering her father's long dead smile, what it could take away.
"So, now we're talking again, when's this little plan of yours going to take down dear, darling Draco?"
Harry, seemingly thankful of topic change, seized this with both hands and began telling her a detailed account of his upcoming plan for Slytherin's Seeker. A conversation which wound its way to Tracey, then to Quidditch, and beyond. There were no windows in the Room of Requirement and neither Harry or Daphne noticed the hours fly by or that night had truly claimed them. That was until Harry let out a stifled yawn and checked his watch.
"That late?" Daphne asked, from her curled up position on the chair the Room had summoned for her as Harry gawped at his wrist.
"A little, it's three."
"Very, well, in that case I think we had better be off. Don't you?"
"Yeah, one sec," Harry said, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a battered old piece of parchment. Daphne frowned, wondering whether he was writing her a note, but then drew his wand and tapped the paper saying: "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."
Before her eyes the parchment turned into an incredibly detailed map, filling every inch with tiny corridors and hallways. Footsteps stalked the halls and she quickly realised that this was no ordinary map, it was Hogwarts. She stared, looking at the tiny footprints. There was Dumbledore pacing his office, and Filch stalking the fourth floor corridor with Mrs Norris. The ghosts were floating around various floors. Most of the students were in bed.
"Cool, isn't it?" Harry grinned, watching as she stared at the map. "It's called the Marauder's Map, Fred and George gave it to me. It was my dad's, he and his friends made it. Filch confiscated it while he was here and they nicked it from his office."
"Your dad was smarter than Granger. This is a serious bit of magic," Daphne said, scanning the map. "We're not on here."
"It's this place, guess my dad didn't know about it or it protects us. I'm not really sure. But you should be good to go down to the dungeons now, sometimes Filch goes down there late at night, so thought it was best to check."
"Then I will bid you goodnight," said Daphne as she pulled herself from the comfort of the chair. She stifled a yawn, knowing the time had made her eyes feel heavy and a great tiredness had washed over her to the point where her body was starting to ache. "Next time, grab me before nine at night."
"Deal."
"And maybe we should go somewhere else, Tracey and I are in the library most nights. You're welcome to join us."
"Seriously?"
"Yes," Daphne nodded, trying to ignore the small pang of nerves scrunching in her stomach. What was happening? In the moment she wasn't sure what would be worse. Him saying no or actually coming. What was wrong with her? "This castle has talked about us already, people know we're friends, so why hide it?"
"I'd like that," Harry smiled.
"Then I'll see you there, we're usually there after seven. Swing by one day." Aware that she was forcing herself to sound relaxed, she faked a yawn and forced a smile as she headed for the wall where the door to dungeons always appeared. It seeped slowly into existence behind her. "I know you've got Quidditch, so don't worry about when."
"I'll see what I can do, Angelina's going to be a nightmare this week. You'd think Wood had never left the way she goes on. But I'll be there. At some point."
"Okay," was all she managed, "night, Harry."
"Good night, Daph," he smiled as she opened the door and pushed herself through before she said anything else. The gloom and cold of the dungeons made for a welcome reprieve for Daphne as she hurriedly headed for her bed, wondering what on earth had just happened.