AN: I know it's been some time. I apologise for the delay, I went through a really hard break up during Covid-19, and I was not in the best place emotionally or mentally. I'm a lot better now, time has a way of somewhat healing even the most painful of wounds, even if it always leaves a scar. I also had to split this chapter in 2, cuz it was just so damn long. As always, please leave a review with your thoughts.
I can't escape this hell
So many times I've tried
But I'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
Animal I Have Become – Three Days Grace
Daphne was trying—and failing—not to openly gawk at them.
The corner of Harry's lips threatened to turn upwards, and he was hard-pressed to hide his growing amusement. He was almost ashamed to admit that it had taken more than a couple minutes for him to realise that this was the first time she had seen him interact with his father without anyone else around.
Lord Voldemort could be. . . overwhelming? Maybe that was not the word most wizards would use to describe him, but Harry had been told repeatedly that his father's general attitude changed whenever he was around. Part of that could be attributed to the Dark Lords desire not to trigger his son's scar by displaying too much emotion, but Harry liked to thing that it was more than just that.
Despite the fact that his father was. . . well. . . a father. He was still the Dark Lord, the single most powerful wizard to grace the face of the earth in the last century, he was the most feared wizard alive, and Harry had seen men trembled at the mere sound of his name.
But regardless of all that, Harry's father was still a human being, and as such he was full of bizarre habits—like the fact that he wet his toothbrush only after he put the toothpaste on it, or his weird obsession with keeping everything in his study exactly the same for the last decade.
The walls were pristine white, without a single spec of dirt—painted regularly to keep them that way—and the lingering scent of lemons and vinegar told Harry that the room had been recently cleaned. This was probably one of the only rooms in the manor that did not look like an interrogation chamber.
He liked it.
On the other hand, the metallic chairs in Lord Voldemort study were without a doubt the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture Harry had ever had the misfortune of sitting on. Had they always been this uncomfortable? Did his father's Inner Circle members really sit on these things for hours on end? As if the poor men hadn't suffered enough already. Couldn't they just conjure a pillow?
"You know what?" he addressed his father.
Voldemort let out an exaggerated sigh, still writing. "What now?" He asked, rolling his eyes.
Harry moved forward, as his eyes stayed on his father's writing. "I think I know the most important quality a Death Eater must possess to get into the inner circle."
Now he had his father's attention, the quill in his hand had frozen an inch from the parchment, as he stopped writing whatever the hell he had been working on since before he and Daphne had entered the room. Voldemort stared at Harry intently, asking the question without actually asking.
Harry only smirked as he slouched back down in the seat, placing both his black booted feet up on the desk as any rebellious teenager should. "Yes, butt cheeks made of steel," he teased, pointing at the metallic chairs he and Daphne were sitting on. "Is this thing some new type of torture device you haven't yet told me about?"
His father's sight of frustration was real this time and Harry could even see a vein painfully throbbing in his temple. That can't be healthy, he thought.
The Dark Lord crossed his arms. "Of course, we can change them son. Since your care so much about the comfort of my followers" He asked in a mocking tone.
"Not all of them," Harry smirked. "You should leave them like this whenever you summon Nott—" A small hint of pain flashed over Harry's face as his leg twitched. He wasn't completely healed from his injuries just yet.
He turned his head, hoping neither his father nor Daphne caught the small display emotion. Immediately he could tell he had failed to hide it, from both.
Daphne's hand came to rest on top of his, her brows furrowed.
Harry squeezed her hand and turned, dreading the reaction of his father to his pain.
The humour had left Voldemort quickly. His hands curled into fist, his jaw clenched, and something flickered in his eyes.
Harry saw it and sighted. "I'm fine."
"Are you?"
There was an edge to his voice, like he was struggling to control a tornado of emotions by his will alone. If there was one thing Lord Voldemort couldn't stand, it was Harry getting seriously hurt.
Harry shrugged. "Yes, it was nothing."
It was the wrong thing to say.
"Nothing?" Voldemort snarled. "You almost died! You could have lost a leg, I had to bring Healer Bonham myself! I couldn't yell at you before because I was worried you would lose a leg, and there were others present at the time, healing you for your recklessness, but somehow I don't think Miss Greengrass will mind if I yell at you now!"
Harry maintained eye contact. "What does it matter? The mission was a success. Jason Riley is dead, and with him gone, the threat to your Horcruxes has been neutralized."
"What does it matter? You think I place more value in a couple of Horcruxes than I do on my own heir!?" Yelled Voldemort. "You are important too, Harry! Your life ensures the survival of Slytherin's line."
Harry watched as his father closed his eyes and sighed.
He turned away in shame. "I'm so—"
"Just. . . be more careful brat," interrupted his father. Saying the same words he had spoken to Harry many times before.
Harry nodded, and turned to inspect his father study. Or as Harry had called it when he was young, 'The Grown Ups Room'.
Throughout the years, he had sat down countless times with his father in this very room. Watching as his father listened and planned with Bellatrix and Lucius. Every night a different issue would come up, and every night the Lord Voldemort would ask his heir what he thought they should do about it and what he thought about Bellatrix and Lucius ideas. "You should know everything about the men who follow you. Men fear power, but knowledge is also power," he told him once.
Harry sat through endless Death Eater meetings in his younger years. Always under his father's Disillusionment Charm so that no one would know he was there. Although Nagini had always known his specific location, at times translating certain things when Harry didn't understand a particular problem or plan his father was talking about. He had loved nothing more than to sit in the corner of the room and watch as his father commanded the Death Eaters. He was charismatic when he needed to be, and terrifying when not.
His father always had the last word, about absolutely everything.
Just watching him make plans and talk was an experience in and of itself. Every great wizard was measured by what they did after they had obtained power, and Harry's father was using his power to better the lives of every wizard and witch, to help their society prosper and bring a new era of peace. Where wizard children would be born free, not slaves to ministry's regulations on their magic.
Harry's father used his power so they could live for so much more.
And soon, everything would change. Harry would be introduced to the rest of the Death Eaters and help his father achieve his goals of preventing the destruction of Magical Britain. Now more than ever, their culture, traditions and beliefs were at risk of disappearing at the hands of the Muggle-borns that threatened them. He would be there, with Daphne by his side, to see his father's vision come true.
"I called you here to give you your gifts." His father's voice snapped Harry out of his daydreams.
"What's the occasion father?"
"Do I need a reason to give my heir and future daughter in law a present?" said Voldemort in a mocking tone.
"Of course not, father. I just didn't think you were getting so sentimental in your old age," Harry chuckled. For a second, he imagined Daphne whimpering behind him at his words. No doubt it was taking all she had not to smack him upside the head.
"Insolent brat," Lord Voldemort muttered. He then pointed at Slytherin necklace hanging from Harry's neck. "You already possess a part of my soul, my son. So, I have decided that my gift for you Harry is something that you will give Daphne when you think the time is right."
"Something that I will give her?" Harry blurted out, confused by his father's statement.
"Yes," responded Lord Voldemort, turning his eyes away from him to look at Daphne. "I understand that it's tradition that the groom chooses it himself, but I hope you'll agree with my choice."
Groom?
Groom?
Daphne brow furrowed in confusion at those words.
"Father, I don't understand. . ." Harry trailed off.
"Daphne's wedding ring."
And then she understood. Her blood rushed to her face. Was the Dark Lord thinking of giving her. . . of course he was. She was to continue to line of the great Salazar Slytherin, the line of Lord Voldemort. She was to be his daughter in law. But even if their wedding wasn't planned for at least a good five to ten years, there was only one ring that should be worthy in the eyes of Harry's father.
Daphne felt honoured beyond belief.
"The Slytherin-Gaunt ring." Lord Voldemort said, mirroring Daphne's thoughts. "My Horcrux. It is currently safe in Yaxley's manor, but I commanded him in the last inner circle meeting to retrieve it for us. It should be here soon."
He turned to look at Daphne again and suddenly those red orbs didn't seem so cold or terrifying. "In the meantime, Miss Greengrass I hope you will accept this. As a token of my appreciation for all you've done for my son," with a flick of his wrist an object appeared in his hands. An elegant and beautiful icy blue mask that was a perfect mixture of Harry's and Bellatrix's respective masks.
Daphne was speechless.
"Thank you, my Lord."
The Dark Lord nodded at her.
Harry looked down.
"F-father I. . . I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"There is no need to thank me son. I know you'll both make me proud. Now, about that raid. . ."
The balcony was filled with the songs of nature.
In the distance, a small and beautiful eagle could be seen flapping its wings. Its body sliced through the air, plummeting towards the sea. Its figure almost seemed to disappear beneath the blue waves before rising again, like a phoenix raising from the ashes, a dead trout in its claws.
"Are you angry that your father forbade you from going?" asked Daphne. She swallowed a lungful of warm morning air. They day was too perfect, a clear blue sky and a deep blue sea.
They were admiring it while standing on one of the many balconies of Riddle Manor, overlooking the horizon, which on a morning such as this one, merged the sky and sea into an infinite field of blue.
"No, its fine" lied Harry, his mouth tightened. "He was right, even with all of the healing potions I'm not at my best just yet."
Daphne arms wrapped around Harry's torso from behind as she leaned against his back, the soft silk of his robes caressing her fingers. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, rich and masculine. She got on the tip of her toes and brought her mouth close to his ear.
"You want to know what I think?" she purred. "I think that the great Dark Prince, the heir to Slytherin's line, son of the Dark Lord, deserves to be properly introduced to the world, and something as insignificant as a Death Eater's raid to intimidate the Aurors is not enough of a statement." The tip of her tongue traced his ear.
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you,"
"Who says I'm being sarcastic," she untangled from him and took a step back, giving him a grin.
Harry's characteristically smirk found its way into his lips. "So, tell me, how does the Dark Princess wish to be introduced to the world?"
Daphne laughed, a beautiful melodious sound that had filled countless boys, and men, with desire.
"I'm the Dark Princess now, am I?" she was pleased with the new nickname, but she tried not to let it show.
"Would you rather be called 'that girl who hangs near the Dark Prince', or maybe 'the Dark Prince's girlfriend', I haven't decided yet which one I like more."
"Ooh, YOU haven't decided? I don't think there's anything for you to decide, my love." Daphne rolled her eyes and took Harry's hands in hers, pulling him along.
They left the balcony behind and entered one of the many living rooms of the manor, where a mosaic of coloured glass depicted a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Oil burned in black iron lanterns along the walls, burning candles floated around the room and a basket filled with fresh fruits sat over a beautifully carved oak table.
A wave of Harry's hand was all it took for a ripe looking apple to levitate towards Daphne. She gave him a playful smirk before biting down hard, the sweet flavour exploding in her mouth like fireworks.
Her hand came up to hold the fruit before it could fall. She loved apples, when she had been alive, her mother used to say that the first time she had eaten one, her little lips had turned into the biggest grin she had ever given—from ear to ear—and that she had refused to eat anything else for weeks.
Daphne wished she could remember.
"I asked Bella to join you in the raid, before your father said that you shouldn't go. She told me that I wasn't ready to raid with you and the Death Eaters. Do you think that same way too?" Have I not trained enough? Am I not powerful enough? Am I not good enough? Were the questions she really wanted to ask but was afraid of the answer.
Harry looked at her, and when he did, there was something indescribable about his look. Like he was trying to reassure himself of something.
"I don't know what Bella told you," he said in a somber voice. "But I don't think it's about power. I'm not worried that you can't go into battle, missions or raids. I'm worried that you can."
"Huh," Daphne blurted out, extremely confused.
Harry's lips thinned in a line. "Even after all that's happened, all that you've been through, there's still a part of you that's innocent."
"Innocent is not a word I would use to describe myself," Daphne told him angrily.
"Maybe not completely innocent, you've experienced loss and you have killed. I don't know. Perhaps I just don't want to lose the little girl who turned a hundred shades of red when I gave her her first kiss."
She huffed, and suddenly Harry chuckled as a pillow smacked into his face.
The door opened with a bang, and Daphne's hand reached for her wand on instinct, but it was the Dark Lord who entered the room.
Daphne only needed one look at him to know that something was dreadfully wrong. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
DANGER, her instincts screamed as loud as they could.
Lord Voldemort appeared calm, but Daphne knew better. His red eyes were hard as steel, The Dark Lord was seething inside, burning with the most frightening of emotions—cold unyielding anger.
"The raid was a set up. Someone is leaking out information to the Ministry and probably to Dumbledore as well." The Dark Lord took a deep breath. "They had information from the inside, how else would they know that we planned to attack Diagon Alley today. The Death Eaters are in the process of evacuating, but Yaxley has been captured. The Ministry will raid his home as soon as they can, I would be surprised if they are not on their way there already."
Harry took a step forward. "We need to send someone to get the rest of the Yaxley family out."
Lord Voldemort sighed. "There is a problem."
Harry paused, realisation and dread began filling his stomach as his father's words sank in.
"One of my Horcruxes, the Gaunt Ring, is inside Yaxley's Manor. I have half a mind to go there myself."
Harry gasped. "Father you can't. It's too risky. If you go Dumbledore will definitely be called and then the Horcrux might be harmed in the duel. Plus, we need him alive for a little bit longer."
"Yes son, I'm aware of the situation. That's why you two will go."
She blanched as the meaning of his words sank in. Harry was already halfway to the door, dragging her with him by the hand.
The Dark Lord continued without pause. "Save anyone you can, but my Horcrux is a priority. And brat. . . "
Harry turned at the same time she did, watching as those red eyes filled with concern.
". . . be careful."
Daphne felt the building shake beneath their feet.
Each step she took made her heart beat a little faster. A roof was not a friendly place to stand on during winter, even if they had an excellent view of Yaxley's small house. Daphne pulled her cloak tighter around her as the wind threatened to cut to her bones. When a second wave of chilled air blew against her and moved her wavy blonde hair, Daphne closed her eyes. She had never been one to believe in omens, and yet, it seemed to her like the powerful winds were a sign of things to come.
"Nervous?" Harry asked.
"Yes," she said, turning to look at him. In this moment, something was different about Harry, his skin seemed to glow, his lips were relaxed into a small smirk and his raven hair danced in the breeze. He looked alive. More so than he ever had. This is what Harry was meant to do, she realised. This is where he was most himself, on an assignment, fulfilling the Dark Lords wishes.
Daphne had never seen him like this.
"Are you afraid?" Harry took her hands in his and clasped them firmly. Daphne wanted to look like him and pretend she was relaxed. But her stomach was a twisted whirlwind of mixed emotions.
She was excited though. This would be her first real assignment with Harry. She didn't count the killing of Sturgis since Harry had reduced him to a broken, defeated and unarmed man before Daphne even showed herself. And even then, Sturgis still didn't count as a mission since the Dark Lord hadn't explicitly ordered the assassination.
"No," she answered truthfully. "I will never fear what's in front of me, not as long as you are standing beside me."
Harry smiled. "There should only be two people inside the house, Yaxley's wife and their small child."
A shudder went through her spine. The sound of crushing waves and the smell of saltwater assaulted her senses. Images of the old cave sprung to her mind, the eerie green light, the dense darkness. The pain on her forearm.
A small child, will they choose revenge like she had?
Her occlumency training kicked in and a very Bellatrix like smirk spread across her face.
"The Auror's will be here any minute, we have to hurry," said Harry without commenting on her thoughts, even though she was sure he had heard them.
Daphne frowned, spotting multiple figures in the distance.
"They are already here."
They entered the house through the back door.
Bypassing the wards had not been a problem since the Aurors had already taken them down by force as soon as they had arrived.
With a single hand signal Daphne and Harry went in opposite directions cover more ground. They needed to find the Horcrux and to try and save both mother and child from the Aurors.
Daphne ran as quietly as she could for what seemed like hours, although it was probably just a few minutes.
Knowing the Ministry of Magic's policies against the followers of Lord Voldemort, Yaxley would be charged with several crimes of first-degree and second-degree murder, as well as extortion, money laundering, hate crimes and kidnapping.
And those were just the standard ones for captured Death Eaters.
If they figure out that they had managed to capture a member of Lord Voldemort's inner circle they would freeze the Yaxley's family Gringotts Vaults, including the trust vault for their child. They would do their best to charge Yaxley's wife with aiding and abetting, and to leave their child — an heir to a Sacred 28 Family — without any support whatsoever.
Daphne stopped in place as the sound of voices entered her senses
She could tell that a mere thin wall separated her from the Aurors, if she walked forwards and turned the corner, they would be able to see her. Daphne's cold fingers pressed against the wall as she listened to the voices in the other room. A small, conjured mirror floated next to her wand and allowed her to witness what was happening.
Inside the other room, four Aurors faced a lone woman. Even with the odds against her, the woman stood straight. She portrayed the perfect picture of elegance, looking regal with her curly brown hair. She wore a beautiful long-sleeved dark dress that looked like it belonged in a ballroom, the crest of House Yaxley was proudly displayed on her shoulder. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her as her eyes regarded the Aurors with a cold gaze.
"So, this is what selling your soul to the devil buys, Death Eater's whore," spat one of the Aurors. He looked young, with spiky dark hair a top his head, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard covering his jaw.
Daphne didn't recognize him. None of his features were familiar to her and judging by his accent he was clearly British so there was only one thing he could be.
Mudblood, her thoughts called out in disgust.
She could be wrong, but everything about the man practically screamed his status, his white muggle running shoes with a check mark, the way he looked at the room with envy as if it was all unfair and unobtainable to him, even the way he held himself—like the world owed him.
James Potter turned to face the man, his features held a look of disappointment and anger. "Be quiet."
The woman ignored their insults, looking intensely at James Potter, nose wrinkled and lips pressed together in an expression of disgust.
"Please Mrs. Yaxley there is no need for violence," muttered James Potter.
"Yes, there is. You will never take me alive, Sir." She replied, determination dripping from her tone. "I won't testify against my husband and you blood traitors won't make me."
"Please Mrs. Yaxley, think of your daughter. If you don't comply, we will be forced to charge you with aiding and abetting a Death Eater, the Ministry will freeze all of your Gringotts Vaults, including your child's, please Mrs. Yaxley, think of your little girl," tried to argue Sirius Black.
Daphne could see the tenseness of his shoulders, the twitching of his hands, the sweat running down his temple. If she had to guess, the disowned Black, even with all his Auror training, had a problem with facing down a woman, especially a mother. He was clearly nervous and desperately trying to take control of a situation that made him deeply uncomfortable.
"I am thinking of her," the woman stated.
Daphne didn't even have time to blink before the woman rushed Moody. Out of her wand a dozen crows sprung forth and, for a second, it looked like they would all attack Mad-Eye simultaneously. Chaos exploded and multiple yells could be heard, but then a voice raised above all others.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green light raised towards the Yaxley matriarch and instinct alone saved her as she threw herself to the floor. Her shocked face told Daphne that much.
There are no good guys in war, she told herself. The Ministry liked to preach about good and evil, about how open minded and righteous they were, and yet, their soldiers were much worse than the monsters they claimed to fight.
Cold rage burned inside her. It took all she had not to rush in and try to rescue the woman.
Where was Harry?
Despite her earlier words, Mrs. Yaxley was frozen as she stared at the part of the wall where the Killing Curse had landed. Daphne looked at the Auror who had casted the Unforgivable Curse, it was the young looking one. The one who had just called the Mrs. Yaxley a whore—the Mudblood. The vermin had the audacity to laugh, the sound rattled Daphne's bones. His venomous smile was a flash of white teeth.
Everyone was frozen in place, Daphne's eyes flickered towards Sirius Black. She decided in that moment that the man was a complete idiot. Clearly, years of Auror training hadn't prepared him one bit. He didn't even have the sense to realise that this was a war, Merlin forbid someone on the so-called light side casted an unforgivable, they loved to think of themselves as the good guys after all. Black was just standing there, unmoved and gawking at the other Auror like a fool.
Moody was the first one to recover, with a wave of his wand the crows dissolve into nothingness and a think rope materialized out of thin air, hovering threateningly above the woman. Sirius Black casted a quick Expelliarmus and Mrs. Yaxley's dodged right to avoid it. High and low the spells came, yet Mrs. Yaxley avoided all of them as she danced through the living room.
Daphne wanted to stay and help, but she had to find the Horcrux and she already knew what the outcome of the fight would be. No normal wizard, not even the wife of a Death Eater could win against someone with Mad-Eye Moody's reputation, let alone face against him and three others. That fact that Mrs. Yaxley was still duelling spoke volumes of her tenacity and her sheer stubbornness to submit.
Daphne could respect that. More than that, she admired it.
With gritted teeth and hands clenched into fist, Daphne turned her back on the scene and ran.
She ran through several dark hallways. The house was truly a labyrinth, everything looked the same, grey walls with white candles illuminating the corners, dozens of wooden doors that led to empty rooms.
After a while, she came upon an elegant kitchen, filled with white marble floors, half a dozen sinks, and a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a small circular table in the corner of the room, she noticed that two cups were still sitting there.
With narrowed eyes, she walked forwards until her free hand touched one of the cups.
They were still hot.
A small whimper drew her attention, and her eyes slid down to the bottom of the table.
There was nothing there.
With a wave of her wand, the air shimmered and there—where there had previously not been anything—sat a small girl, crying and hugging her knees.
The child looked terrified, big grey eyes filled with fright at the realization that she was no longer under her mother's disillusionment charm. Her honey brown hair was a tangled mess, long and untamed, covering part of her face like a dark curtain. Her knees came up to her chest as she hugged them fiercely with one hand, the other was shaking as she held a kitchen knife, trying to look threatening.
How brave, she thought.
Daphne took a moment to quickly search the room, before taking off her mask and bending towards the child. "What's your name?" she asked gently.
"Ellie," came the response in a high-pitched voice.
"Well Ellie," she began. "My name is Daphne, and I'm here to help you."
"No!" screamed Ellie. "Mother said there were monsters in the house. She said to wait here until she or grandpa came for me!"
Daphne smiled reassuringly.
"I'm here to protect you, Ellie. I'm not a monster or an Auror," she pulled on her sleeve, showing the child Harry's Dark Mark. "You know what this is right? I'm on your side."
If the little girl saw any difference between Harry's Dark Mark and a regular one, she didn't show it. She let out a relief sigh and her shaking seemed to stop. However much her voice changed, her terrified expression never left her face.
"Please, don't let them hurt me," said the child, still scared of the Aurors. She looked to be about six or seven years old.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," Daphne replied automatically.
The child's expression of terror turned into disbelieve.
"B-but t-they are m-monsters," she muttered, gritting her teeth and looking down.
Her expression stirred something in Daphne, she wanted to protect this child at all costs.
"Someone once told me," she said, trying to look as reassuring as possible to the crying child, "to not be afraid of the monsters, to make them afraid of you."
Daphne extended her hand towards Ellie.
Two beautiful grey eyes stared up at her in wonder.
She walked through the hallways with the child's hand in hers. Shadows lurked at every turn.
Then she saw it, a shadow in the shadows. The dark silhouette of a man. And before she knew it, he was there. Standing at the other side of the aisle with those hideous eyes.
He looked sinister, his beard as black as his clothing.
Daphne's blue mask was still firmly upon her face, yet she knew what the Mudblood was seeing, behind her Death Eater robes her figure would be clearly visible, her very feminine figure, and it would be extremely obvious to this man that she was not the feared Bellatrix Black.
She didn't have the time to figure out what had happened to Ms Yaxley, this was the same Auror she had seen insult the Yaxley matriarch. If he was here, then it meant that Ellie's mother was either captured or dead. The other Aurors would be here at any moment, she had no time to waste. There was no way she could defeat them all, and she had no idea how long Harry would take to find the damn Horcrux.
She shivered as a chill ran down her spine.
The man took a step towards her, and she suddenly realised the new feeling that was flowing through her. Making her arms tremble just a little bit.
She was scared.
She had never been in real danger before. Sure, Harry and Bellatrix sometimes gave her bruises and cuts when they dueled, but when she lost there, she would only lose her pride, not her life.
"Oh, they seem to multiply," his walk was slow and drawn out, and each step made Daphne's nerves spike even higher. "What do we have here? Another bitch? Take off your mask whore. Maybe I've had you once or twice, there's something familiar about you." He laughed and then suddenly paused. Then he turned his head to look behind Daphne, at the little girl following her—who was still holding a kitchen knife—and suddenly the laughter was back, a deep and horrid sound. "They train them young then. Come on then little whore, let's see what you can do." The last statement wasn't aimed at her, no, it was aimed at Ellie.
Something inside Daphne snapped at the word whore.
"Ellie," she said, without taking her eyes of her opponent. "I need you to do me a favour, okay?"
The little girl did not utter a single word, but Daphne could see her give a small nod out of the corner of her eyes.
"I need you to close your eyes. Don't open them no matter what you hear, okay?"
This time she quickly glanced back and saw the child give a frightful nod.
And then, in the blink of an eye, she moved.
The man stumbled backwards, clumsily putting up a Protego, but Daphne sidestepped the shimmering shield, doing her best to keep herself low to the ground. The man's stunner was answered with a bluish force field that protected Daphne's entire body. Then, a flash of eerie green light came her way and by that point, Daphne stopped thinking, she only acted. She went underneath it and sent and quick Impedimenta towards the Auror, it took him less that a second to block it. When he raised his wand again, Daphne struck with a powerful kick to his shins—a move Harry had taught her—and the Auror was sent crumbling to the floor with a curse and a crash.
A quick Expelliarmus disarmed the Auror and he went down hard as Daphne's next spell smashed him into the ground.
With a frown of disgust on her face, Daphne planted her boot on his stomach and slowly began to increase the pressure by magically enhancing her weight. The man wheezed for air as his ribs started to fracture. After a second, one of his ribs broke under the pressure, and a vindictive glee rushed through her. The attack was meant to hurt but it was also symbolic in nature; she was literally grinding him into the ground like dirt.
His hands came up to try and push her foot away, but Daphne stopped them with a sudden slashing movement of her wand. A cut tore through his torso and his clothes stained with blood.
And then for a second, she thought of just ending his life right there. It would've been so easy to cast the Killing Curse and end it. She could even use the Full Body Bind and escape with Ellie. But it wasn't enough, Daphne wanted. . . no needed him to suffer more.
A vicious smirk adorned her angelic face. The tip of her wand had barely touched the skin on his calloused pinkie finger when she pulled it back with a violent move. The cracked skin rose up and peeled as it stuck to her wand. Screams began to echo in her head. Blood began to flow as the raw hand—bared to the bone—stared back at her, violently trembling as dark red blood oozed out of every inch of it. Daphne hadn't known that a hand could have so much blood.
In the background, she could faintly hear a little girl screaming.
She made eye contact with those horrid eyes, they seemed scared now. Scared of her.
"Legilimens!" she yelled.
His basic and pathetic shields worked for about a tenth of a second, before shattering with all the subtlety of a nuclear explosion. He screeched in agony as she plowed into his mind, brushing aside and dismantling his mental traps like they were made of paper. Daphne made no pretence at being even slightly subtle or gentle as she searched through his memories. She felt the exact moment when he realised the enormous difference in their magical power—he couldn't do anything to eject her from his mind. With his last efforts, he focused on retaining his sanity, on trying to keep his most precious and painful memories away from her.
Daphne didn't let him.
She went straight for those memories.
Absently, her mind registered the tears of anguish running down his face. Faces of loved ones appeared. Henry, Amelia, wait. . . was that. . . Mrs. Yaxley?
And then she was inside his mind, completely unrestricted.
The scene in front of her vanished and image after image raced through her mind like a flickering film. The images were so vivid that even an amateur like her could tell that there was no way that these memories were fabricated.
The man in front of her was now an eleven-year-old kid, standing inside a living room next to his smiling parents with a Hogwarts letter clenched in his hands. . . and then he was sixteen. Daphne looked at her surroundings, they were inside an awfully familiar room with four House tables—Hogwarts Great Hall.
The Mudblood was there, a geeky-looking teenager with lots of acne on his face, he had Hogwarts robes and a yellow tie. His spiky dark hair looked exactly the same, but he had no facial hair.
As Daphne watched closely, the teen began to move, heading towards a gang of chattering girls. Absently, Daphne took it their ties and robes. Immaculate. Perfect. Green. Slytherins, she thought.
"Mia,"
The voice startled Daphne, it took her a second to process that it had come out of the same man who had just called her a whore not too long ago. It sounded so different, so full of love and hope.
And then one of the chattering girls turned to look at him. Mrs. Yaxley? Thought Daphne. She looked ten years younger but there was no mistaking her. Mia was Mrs. Yaxley—Mia Yaxley. Or at least that was her family name by marriage. She had no idea what her maiden's name was.
Even as all the other girls turned to look at him in disdain, the geeky teen continued, "I-I b-brought y-you these?" He was so nervous that it sounded like a question. Then, his hand came up from behind him, and with a flick of his wand a bouquet of red roses appeared.
The expression of disdain on the faces of all the girls turned to disgust. All except Mia's, who looked at the flowers in front of her with a neutral expression.
And then she slowly frowned, her lips curled, and her expression began to match the other girls. Revulsion. Aversion. Loathing.
Her voice was sharp, as if she was offended by the gesture. "Really, you shouldn't have bothered. My father would call me a whore and disown me if he ever found out I accepted roses from a Mudblood!"
Whore, that's what the man had called little Ellie.
Because a woman had once turned him down? That was his reasoning for casting the Killing Curse at said woman, after more than a decade had passed?
Was that how he justified insulting a child?
Daphne's blood began to boil.
In what had to be the most vindictive and cruel action she had ever done, she ripped out the memory, with all the feelings it created in him, with the exact word he feared and hated at the same time and played it over and over again on a loop.
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
Mudblood!
MUDBLOOD!
And then the man moved faster than she would have believed. A hand clenched over her ankle and something slashed her leg. Daphne let out a hiss of pain as she staggered back. She yelped as another cut appeared on the palm of her hand.
Her wand fell to the ground and rolled away from her.
The Auror had found the strength to stand. He was clutching an iron dagger in his healthy hand; it was slick with her blood. He was barely supporting himself, hunched in an effort to protect his fractured ribs and flayed hand. His eyes held so much hate the Daphne could have drowned in it.
She hadn't even thought of checking him for more weapons. Wizards normally only carried their wand; their wands were their life. A low curse escaped from her lips, but this wasn't a normal wizard was it? This was a Mudblood.
It took a minute to steady herself, her head was spinning, and her hand throbbed with pain. Thankfully the cut in her leg wasn't that deep. She could barely feel it. Still, she put most of her weight in her good leg in preparation for the fight that was about to happen. Her vision was still a bit blurry from the pain, but then she saw a scene straight out of her worst nightmares.
Beneath his disgusting, mud covered muggle shoes laid her precious wand.
At least it wasn't broken.
Behind her, Ellie let out a scream of fright, and that was all it took for Daphne to be able to focus again.
This wasn't training, this was real. With clenched teeth and narrowed eyes Daphne found her determination again. If she was going down here, let it be protecting the little girl behind her, a symbolic metaphor of what she herself had been just six years ago.
She steadied herself, putting herself between the Auror and the child.
And then there was a low growl, the merest whisper of a threat. A shadow moved behind the Auror. The man must have heard it, or maybe his instincts were screaming at him but just as he turned, the lion made its leap. They went down together, and the lion's jaw closed around his neck before wrenching back his head, taking out most of the man's throat with it.
Sticky warm blood sprayed across Daphne's face.
A second later, the lion turned to look at her. It's mane was made up of barbed wire. Twin pools of molten green stared at her with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. When she was finally able to turn her gaze away, she noticed that the lion was grey and made entirely of stone.
Transfiguration.
A familiar presence gently invaded her mind, and in that moment she understood.
"Harry!" breathed Daphne, letting down her defences as she sighed internally in relief with as much gratitude as she could.
Once he finished getting all the information of what had happened from her mind, Harry silently took her injured hands in his own and raised them palm up, examining her cuts. The act made Daphne nervous for some reason, like she was seeing him for the first time. She flinched and averted her gaze when his eyes found hers, with just a touch of his wand, her cuts were closing shut, even the one on her leg.
"Look at me," snapped Harry.
Daphne looked. His face was hard, his usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found. The Harry she knew was gone; this was someone else entirely. Gone was the face of her betrothed and in its place, glaring back at her, was the face of the Dark Prince, the heir of Slytherin.
Harry continued. "Words won't make you a whore. You are a Pureblood and a Greengrass, and nothing those idiots say can change that. And right now, you're a liability!"
A liability? Daphne thought incredulously. She had trained day and night for this. She knew she was skilled, even if she had no experience.
He took a steady breath and Daphne could see that he had calmed down somewhat. When he spoke again his voice was calmer and had an edge of worry.
"You think you're the only one who trains until you drop? You think because I've taught you how to fight, that you won't make mistakes? You don't have any experience yet. You could have stunned or killed him without much trouble, but no, you had to have your fun. Those men out there—our enemies—have been fighting since before either of us were born!"
The adrenaline was still rushing through her veins, like fuel feeding her anger.
"I don't care!" Daphne shouted. "I don't care about any of them." Her thoughts betrayed her; she did care, specially about the girl. The tremendous guilt pouring over her veins made it clear enough.
"And you shouldn't! But if you don't start respecting your enemy and realise once and for all that this is not a duel, you'll die! You lost that fight because you couldn't control yourself. If I hadn't been there, you'd be dead. Get over it and start thinking before you attack, if you can end it quickly, end it. And for fuck's sake stop acting like a bloody Gryffindor!"
Daphne flinched again. Those words hurt, but that didn't stop them from being true. She had allowed her emotions to guide her instead of the other way around, acting impulsively like the child Bellatrix claimed she was.
You're not ready yet. Bellatrix voice echoed in her mind. Adrenaline was still running high, but she wasn't so battle-crazed that she couldn't recognize when she had majorly fucked up.
"You're right," she blurted out. "It was stupid, I should've killed him as soon as I disarmed him. I'm sorry."
Harry's gaze softened and he let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He turned to look at the unconscious child floating next to Daphne, his lips turned up in a half smile. "But you did it, you managed to find the girl."
"Her mother—"
"She's not dead, just captured, most of the Aurors should be heading out the front door by now. You made the right call by going after the child instead of helping her mother."
Then why did it feel so wrong to leave her, thought Daphne. Some of her guilt was eased with his words, but not nearly enough. A light snore made her turn to look at Ellie.
"We need to get Ellie out of here," she said.
Harry raised his hand, something shone brightly in his index finger. "I found the Gaunt ring. My father's Horcrux."
Daphne stared at the it. Her future wedding ring, it was calling her. Harry dark mark felt warm in her forearm. Everything around her faded away and she raised her hand to touch it. The moment her skin met the Horcrux a small shock of something when through her body, she felt free and oddly light. Like all this time this was the thing that had been missing all her life. How many legends had worn this ring, she wondered. What kind of extraordinary magic had it witness in the hands of Slytherins descendants?
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
In response, Harry gave her the briefest smile.
"The Aurors might be heading out, the house is full of expanding charms, its huge but we are still going to need a distraction to get the child out safely. You need to head for the back entrance, I'll distract the Aurors," said Harry.
"But last time—"
"I still owe Potter for that. Don't worry about me, right now our priority is to get Ellie to safety and to get rid of any evidence of past crimes Yaxley could have committed," said Harry
"I'll go with you. I don't want you to fight them alone," stated Daphne, looking into his eyes.
"No, you need to get Ellie out of here." Harry's necklace shone and he raised his hand, showing her the ring again. "Don't worry, I'm never alone."
After going their separate ways, Daphne had taken little time to find the back entrance. With her small injuries now almost healed and a now conscious Ellie running just behind her—clutching the back of Daphne's robes with both hands—remembering the way they came had been easy.
The problem was that the back entrance was now being guarded by an unfamiliar man. He stood just outside the doorway, his back turned towards the house and Daphne. He seemed to be checking the surroundings, maybe trying to see if any Death Eaters would dare approach the house with the Aurors already there.
If only he knew that the Aurors were not the only ones inside the house.
The red hair of the man was recognizable enough. This wasn't an Auror. No Weasley was an Auror as far as she could recall. And this man was undoubtedly a Weasley, probably not the patriarch since he looked to be in his twenties. But the fact that he was here was troubling, if he was here. . . the rest of the Order was here as well. Or at least, they would be arriving shortly.
Checking to see that her mask was still in place, Daphne aimed at the back of the Order member.
"CRUCIO!"
Weasley was fast, really fast. He dodged the unforgivable—without turning around—by throwing himself to the ground. Not even a second later, he was on his feet again—wand aimed straight at her—but it was already too late.
She smirked as his eyes widen, watching as two silently casted petrificus totalus raced towards him.
His shield crumbled under the force of the first Full-Body Bind spell. The second one hit him straight in the chest and he crumpled to the ground.
As she grabbed Ellie's hand in hers and ran towards the end of the anti-apparition wards, Daphne began to feel the effects of the adrenaline subside. Her muscles ached in a way they never had before—not even during her endless hours of training—her breathing was heavy, and the wind felt extremely cold against her skin.
Once she was sure they had both crossed the edge of the anti-apparition ward she turned to the little girl beside her. "Have you ever done Side-Along Apparition before?" she asked.
Ellie nodded her head.
Daphne winced. This was going to hurt. She hugged the child closed to her body and exhaled.
And then, she apparated to the designated spot near Riddle Manor.
She re-doubled her grip on Ellie as everything went dark. Pressure could be felt from all directions, trying to crush her to death, her lungs didn't work—there was no air to fill them—and then, she crashed into the tall grass, her body turned so that Ellie would not fall.
For a moment, only their breathing could be heard. But then the sound of footsteps reached her, and she turned to watch as multiple figures surrounded her.
Tears started forming in her eyes as a familiar face with blonde hair stepped towards her. But Draco didn't say a single word. Didn't even look up at her. He placed his arms around Ellie—who had passed out because of the imperfect apparition—and carried the child bridal style in his arms, leaving towards the manor.
Daphne felt the moment her heavy breathing turn into sobs.
Her mouth was open, but no matter how much air she tried to inhale, it wasn't enough.
And then Lucius was there, covering her with a warm blanket. It took less than a second for Daphne to collapse into his arms. The adrenaline of the fight was gone.
She had survived.
In that moment of safety, everything came back to her. She had survived, but at what cost? Crimson blood filled her vision even when she tried to close her eyes. The Killing Curse she had used on Sturgis was one thing, simple, almost peaceful. After, the Auror had looked like he was just sleeping. That man she had killed today, nothing about his death could ever be described as peaceful or simple. The ghosts of his horrific screams filled her ears as she held onto Lucius tightly.
A great sob escaped her. "I t-tortured someone," she whispered. "And I-I almost did it to Weasley again. I don't know who I am anymore. I-I n-never thought t-that I would—"
"You're in shock," explained Lucius calmly. He was still holding her and checking for injuries. She had none, Harry had healed them all.
"It was a Mudblood. He was prick and he almost killed me—he would have if it wasn't for Harry—but no one deserves that! I almost broke his mind, I can still hear his screams, and it felt good. It felt so good. Why? Why did it feel so good?"
"Hey, hey, listen to me!" Lucius shook her head until their eyes met. "You're Daphne Greengrass, heir to one of the sacred twenty-eight families. You are a good witch. You did what had to be done. You not only survived, but you also saved Yaxley's little girl."
"I did," she said.
Then a new voice came from behind her.
"You did good. I'm so proud of you, my Princess," said a smiling Bellatrix, she had a way of making anything better. Daphne took a moment to bask in her comforting presence.
Then—almost in sync—they both kneeled.
"My princess."
And just like that any and all doubts left her mind.