Chapter 2 - Norwegian Intermezzo

The blood dripped down Liv's thigh, leaving a trail of red in the endless wasteland of snow. She no longer felt pain. Only cold. It cut into her bones and slowly sucked every bit of her life force out of her, relentless and cruel. But Liv knew she had to keep going. Onwards. Always onwards. Away from the massacre. Away from the memories.

If there was no salvation in the pretty light she saw shimmering on the horizon at night, then she was truly lost.


With a loud thump, Harry's feet hit solid ground. He staggered, but this time managed not to fall. Next to him stood Daphne, her blonde hair dishevelled, but also standing upright. And on the floor in front of them lay the stuffed fish that had brought them here, its eyes as dead and dull as ever.

Harry looked around. They were standing on a huge wooden surface in a golden circle about three metres in diameter. Around them were many more such golden circles, even much larger ones, and people were constantly arriving or disappearing inside them by Portkey.

In general, it was a tremendous hustle and bustle around them. Witches and wizards of every hue, pushing their way past the arriving and departing. A babble of voices in a variety of different languages, most of which Harry didn't even recognise. A smell of ozone that filled the magic-crackling air.

Above them hung a huge banner in gold, with large letters emblazoned on it:

VELKOMMEN - WELCOME - BIEVENUE - WILLKOMMEN

And even further above, people were flying on brooms within a sky of green, and Harry could even make out a rose-coloured cloud in the distance, with two centaurs standing on it and floating upwards.

A sky of green?

Harry blinked until he noticed the fine contours in the green. It was not the sky, but leaves. Huge leaves the size of family homes, but leaves nonetheless. And they were not standing on a wooden platform or something similar, but on a branch. A branch so huge that Harry couldn't even see its edge.

He had known what awaited them, but knowing it and seeing it were two completely different things. They were on Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the centre of northern magical Europe.

"Welcome," a voice suddenly sounded in English.

Three people emerged from the crowd. Leading the way was an older man in an expensive-looking suit with a wine-red tie and a broad smile on his face. Apart from the smile, Harry was instantly reminded of Barty Crouch Sr. A young woman and a young man, both with short blond hair and dressed in white shirts and plain dark suits – no tie – kept to the background.

The older man stepped into the circle and shook Harry's hand while speaking in almost accent-free English, "Mr Potter, it is a great honour for us to welcome you to Yggdrasil. My name is Pecunius Rasmussen and I am the Minister of Economy of this beautiful country." He then turned to Daphne. "And this lovely lady is your girlfriend, I presume."

Daphne shook her head. "No, I'm merely Harry's travelling companion. Daphne Greengrass. Pleased to meet you, Mr Rasmussen."

"Welcome to Yggdrasil," Mr Rasmussen said, now shaking Daphne's hand as well. His gaze fell on the rapier at her hip. "Are you worried about being attacked here, miss?"

"No more than anywhere else."

Thinking of the Sword of Gryffindor in his bagpack, Harry tightened his grip around it. Neither Kingsley nor the Norwegian Ministry of Magic knew the exact details of what they were up to, and he wanted to keep it that way. If they were to use the sword at all.

"Ah yes, the lessons of a civil war are probably difficult to put down, I understand," Mr Rasmussen said. "But I assure you that you are perfectly safe here. Yggdrasil is the safest place on earth. And besides, Ole and Line will look after you." He pointed to his two companions, who nodded at them in response. "If I understand correctly, you two are requesting passage to Everfrost?"

"Correct," Harry said. "We have been told that –"

"Of course, of course. Everything has already been taken care of. Tomorrow morning a trek will begin to move north. Until then, we would be happy to offer you our hospitality. Allow me to accompany you to your accommodation."

Mr Rasmussen started walking and Harry and Daphne followed him; Ole and Line followed a few steps behind. Soon they were in the middle of the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, Mr Rasmussen gave them an overview of the history and structure of the World Tree.

"Yggdrasil is the oldest magical settlement north of the Alps that still exists today. More than ten thousand wizards, witches, and magical beings of all kinds live together here these days. We are currently on one of the middle levels of the tree. Below us are industry, crafts, and the entertainment districts. Above us, government and public administration. Residential quarters are found all over the tree, but your accommodations are at the very top, right under the canopy. We have prepared the presidential suite for you."

That this was a special honour remained unspoken.

"Thank you," Daphne said. "We appreciate it."

They also walked past a newspaper stand, but the papers were in Norwegian and unfortunately Harry didn't know Norwegian. However, as if the newspapers could read Harry's mind, suddenly the headlines changed and Harry could now read in English:

Chamber of Commerce expects 16.6% rise in gross magic product

Muggle scientists warn of climate change

Special commission presents report – followers of late Voldemort responsible for Muggle disappearances

Better Tomorrow plans to launch MIRRORX2000 in autumn

Sometimes magic was really scary, Harry thought.

They reached a wooden stand that seemed to have sprouted directly from the branch. There were numerous brooms lined up there, Nimbus 200 if Harry's eyes did not deceive him. He even recognised a Firebolt, which, unlike the other brooms, was attached to the stand by a chain.

"Since Norway's disgraceful knock-out in the first round at the last European Quidditch Championships, brooms have become the means of choice for moving between the branches. To get the youth more used to flying again," Mr Rasmussen said before looking to Daphne. "Mr Potter is said to be a great flyer by all accounts, but if you are reluctant to fly, miss, we still have some floating clouds in operation closer to the trunk. So if you –"

"Brooms are fine," Daphne countered.

But when she then grabbed one of the brooms and sat on it, Harry could see immediately that she didn't do this regularly. The way her legs and hands cramped and didn't quite trust the piece of wood beneath them. But she had been given a choice, he thought. Now she would have to live with the consequences of her pride.

Harry also took a broom, as did Mr. Rasmussen and Ole and Line. They pushed themselves off the branch and rose into the air. A tingling, almost stimulating shiver ran through Harry's body. He just loved to fly, to feel the wind on his skin, to feel it ruffle his hair and carry away all his evil thoughts.

"To improve the handling of the brooms, the automatic controls are off for now," Mr Rasmussen called out loudly to drown out the wind. "You can activate it by hitting the broom three times. Like this." He struck the broomstick three times with the flat of his hand and instantly the broom flew through the air perfectly still, as if it were mounted on a rail. "At the moment, however, there is not so much traffic, so you should have no problems without it."

Automatic control? Now that would take all the fun out of flying, wouldn't it?

Harry looked at Daphne. Even though she would probably never become a Quidditch player, it seemed that at least he wouldn't have to worry about her falling down at any moment. She was clutching the broomstick tightly, but she didn't want to activate the automatic controls either.

They flew upwards behind Mr Rasmussen at a leisurely pace, allowing Harry to let his gaze wander. For the first time he now caught sight of the gigantic trunk of the World Tree, as massive and high as a mountain. The whole place had to be covered with powerful Muggle-Repelling Charms.

They flew past numerous branches, larger and smaller, though even the smaller ones were as wide as Diagon Alley. Wooden structures towered on the branches as if they were part of the branches themselves. Some were even shaped like buds. But Harry also recognised metal and stone constructions on some branches, with tall chimneys from which dark smoke rose. He liked the wooden buildings better.

The higher they got, the emptier the branches became. And when they finally landed on a branch at the very top of the tree, it was completely quiet around them, except for the chirping of a few birds. Above the branch was a gap in the canopy, and for the first time since they left England, Harry could see the blue sky and the sun. The sun had already moved far to the west, but it would probably be some time before nightfall at this time of year.

"Here we are," said Mr Rasmussen, pointing to a house in the shape of a leaf bud. "You should probably get some rest if you want to continue your journey in the morning. The Prime Minister is unfortunately out of the country, otherwise he would have been happy to welcome you personally. His house is only a branch away."

And with that they entered the accommodation. They stepped into a large room with green-brown walls, directly connected to the tree like everything else here. In the room were a large couch and several armchairs, made of leaves, and a large silver mirror in front of them. The opposite side of the room was open and led onto a balcony, from which they had a picturesque view on the gap in the canopy and the sky beyond. But Harry felt no draught through the open wall, no doubt because of the magic of the place. On either side of the room, a door led into another room.

"The suite has two bedrooms with separate bathrooms," Mr Rasmussen said. "Both offer the same comfort."

"What about the mirror?" asked Harry. Since his visit to Kingsley's office, he knew that Norwegian mirrors were not just mirrors.

Mr Rasmussen stepped up to the mirror and proudly stood next to it as if it were his child who had just won the science competition at primary school. "One of our new generation. In fact, they are not due to be launched until autumn, but we have already secured some, for such honoured guests as you. So far it is only for communication. So if you need something, for example, all you have to do is touch the glass with your wand and state your request. Ole and Line will then take care of it."

The two gave them a friendly smile. "We are at your service," Ole said, and Line nodded in agreement.

"Later on, there will also be entertainment programmes that you can watch via the mirror," Mr Rasmussen continued. "But that's still mostly pie in the sky. The plan, however, is to be able to show the Quidditch World Cup in the summer."

"Like television, then?" asked Harry.

"You know televisions?"

Harry shrugged. "I grew up with Muggles."

"Yes, the, um, Muggles have been much more inventive than us in the past," said Mr Rasmussen with a slight regret in his voice. "But we're catching up. Now then, I suppose you must be exhausted from your journey. Refreshments in the form of some local delicacies are already in your rooms, but if you need anything else, as I said, you can –"

"The mirror, we know," Daphne said.

"Wonderful then," said Mr Rasmussen. "In case we don't see each other again, I wish you both a pleasant stay in Yggdrasil and a good journey north. Ole and Line will come to pick you up tomorrow morning."

After their hosts had said their goodbyes, Harry and Daphne stood alone in the room. They looked at each other for a moment before wordlessly going to their respective rooms.

Like the rest of the suite, the walls of the bedroom seemed to be made of a mixture of leaves and wood, even the bed, the bedside tables, a wardrobe, and a table with chairs. On the table were several plates and bowls of delicious-smelling food.

Harry also entered the bathroom, and was glad that at least the toilet bowl was made of porcelain.

He stepped to the mirror above the sink. A haggard face gazed back at him.

What are you doing here?

Harry didn't know the answer.


Later, when Harry returned to the main room, he saw Daphne standing on the balcony, her gaze fixed on the distance. He stepped up to her and was greeted by a breathtaking view of the tree city and the land around it. Coniferous trees as far as the eye could see, much, much smaller than the mountain-high World Tree, but still imposing by normal standards.

"Nice here," he said.

"I'm sure it is."

Daphne's voice struck him as somehow empty, almost torpid.

An uncomfortable silence spread between them for a few moments before it became too much for Harry. "I mean, I didn't know such a thing was even possible," he said, gesturing towards the city.

"Norwegian wizards have always been known for their inventiveness. Just think of self-filling tea kettles, the first live photographs with the power of speech, or the crystal mirrors. This city fits right in with those achievements."

"I noticed that with the mirrors too. Kingsley said they're planning to sell them worldwide on a large scale in the future."

"And good businessmen they are too..."

Silence fell between them again, and again it was Harry who spoke up after a few minutes. "Daphne ... there are some things that interest me."

Daphne turned her head towards him, neither wonder nor curiosity in her gaze. "And what do you want to know?"

"You confuse me, you know," Harry said. "You were one of Parkinson's friends, weren't you, but you still returned with Slughorn and the others to fight?"

"And you're only asking me that now?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "There wasn't the opportunity before, somehow..."

"And you still decided to accompany me, even though you're so unsure about my loyalties?"

"Yessss," Harry said. What could he possibly say back? I would have gone with anyone if only they had taken me away from all this?

Daphne looked at him for several seconds before finally sighing softly. "Pansy's not so bad when you know her."

"Tell that to the people she's been bitching about," Harry said. His mind darkened. "And you laughed along, if I remember correctly."

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. "It seemed the easiest thing to do at the time. And we'll all have to pay for our past mistakes. Or do you think Pansy will ever be able to show her face in public again?"

Harry snorted. She had it coming. She would not get his pity.

"Not everyone can be blessed by birth with such heroism as you," Daphne said. "Pansy was just scared."

"She had been a mean bitch for a long time before that."

"She'd been scared for a very long time," Daphne said quietly. "Even though she probably didn't even know it herself. And that fear made her angry. Mocking others was her way of dealing with it."

Harry couldn't hold back any longer. "But you're different?"

"What do you mean?" asked Daphne.

"You returned as a reformed warrior in that crucial hour when the fate of our world hung in the balance." The sharpness of the scorn in his voice surprised even him.

Daphne's gaze hardened. "That's not me you're talking about, that's my sister."

"What?"

"It was she who was desperate to get back," Daphne explained. "She snuck back into the castle. I just took the opportunity to look for her."

Harry pondered, taking the time to look at Daphne carefully. To recall again all he knew and all he had heard about her. Daphne, meanwhile, averted her eyes from him again. The wind was gently playing with her strands, but she didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"Your family is very important to you, isn't it?" said Harry finally.

Daphne's answer came without hesitation. "I would do anything for my family."

"Anything?" asked Harry.

"Yes, anything."

"Even for your father?"

Daphne pushed herself off the railing. "I'm going to sleep now and so should you. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Good night, Potter."

She left the balcony. Left behind was Harry, who gazed after her thoughtfully. Her answer had revealed more to him than she probably knew.

"Good night ... Daphne."


Mr Rasmussen had not exaggerated that they would travel on early in the morning. The sun had just risen when Harry and Daphne found themselves with Ole and Line on the ground at the foot of the World Tree, a large yellow Muggle jeep in front of them. The jeep was so big that even four of them could sit comfortably in it, Harry thought.

But when Ole opened the car door, Harry was once again proved wrong. They didn't see normal seats, but a lounge with a fireplace! At least a lounge. To be precise, it was a spacious room with a bar, several armchairs, and a roaring fire. The inside of the jeep must have been magically enlarged, Harry thought, and there were many more windows in the walls to look out on the forest than should be physically possible. And Harry doubted that most Muggle jeeps had a Jacuzzi in the corner.

He really ought to stop being surprised by magic, he resolved, knowing full well that magic would never stop amazing him.

"We hope the decor will suit your needs," Ole said as he held the door open for them.

"I'm sure it will," Harry said, still amazed.

They stepped into the jeep. Harry sat down opposite Daphne in one of the armchairs. They hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words today and Daphne didn't seem to want to change that. Lost in thought, she looked out of the window, her gaze fixed on the distance, as if she discerned anything but the conifers directly in front of them. As she did so, she bit her lips in a way Harry had only ever seen Hermione do when she was straining to remember something.

Harry decided he wasn't her babysitter and slumped back in the armchair. They had a long journey ahead of them, so he could at least relax while he could. At least, he could try. In his lap was still the bagpack with the Sword of Gryffindor, which no one was allowed to see or their plan would be ruined.

Their plan to kill Santa Claus.

Harry shook his head. All this was still completely crazy. But maybe it wouldn't come to that. First they would get into Everfrost, then they would see...

With a jerk, the jeep started moving. Harry saw the trees whizzing past them, so fast that they soon became blurred. It shouldn't be possible to drive a car at such a speed through a densely overgrown forest without a road, but once again magic seemed to be the answer to the riddle. At least the ride in the jeep was more pleasant than the Knight Bus back then, so smooth in fact that one could almost forget that one was moving at all.

So smooth, in fact, that Harry had to fight against his eyes closing. The crackling fire in the fireplace didn't make it any easier. He glanced at Ole and Line, who had sat down in armchairs in the middle of the room, their eyes closed. But Harry knew they were not asleep. And as long as they didn't sleep, neither would he.

They drove on through the forests of Norway. The hours passed. It became noon – to which a house elf dressed in tails served mutton with cabbage and cured lamb ribs – and it became afternoon. At some point the green of the landscape was replaced by the first signs of white. The white became more and more, until finally they were driving through a fabulously glittering snowy countryside, a world dipped in icing sugar. At least, that's how it seemed to Harry as he looked out the window, smiling, thinking back to his first winter at Hogwarts. And all the snowball fights they had had back then. That had been less than eight years ago, but it seemed like a memory from another life. Or the life of someone else.

All of a sudden, a jolt went through the jeep, but only for a brief moment. After that, the jeep drove on smoothly again, even smoother than before, almost weightless.

"We're going on skids now. We'll be there soon," Ole's voice rang out. The young man had risen from his chair and stepped up to Harry and Daphne, who was now looking up too.

"In Everfrost?" asked Daphne.

Ole shook his head. "No, we won't be able to make that tonight. We'll spend the night at a guesthouse."

"Don't worry, it's very pleasant there," said Line, joining them as well. "The northernmost ski resort in our country. Operates all year round and always prepared for guests."

And indeed, when they stopped some time later and got out of the jeep – sledge? – they were greeted by a picture of hearty hospitality, but in a more comfortable and down-to-earth way than Yggdrasil. Several wooden huts perched on a mountain in the snowy landscape. Smoke rose from their chimneys into the cloudless sky, and behind the huts Harry could make out the outline of a ski slope – or so it appeared to him, he had never been skiing.

The whole scenery seemed to have sprung from a snow globe, the kind tourists liked to buy in souvenir shops. Well, in this case they seemed to be the tourists. Tourists on a secret mission.

"Come into the parlour," Ole said, before holding the door of the largest of the wooden huts open for them.

Harry and Daphne stepped into the hut behind him and they were instantly greeted by a blast of warm air. Harry's glasses fogged up and he had to take them off to avoid running into something. His vision was blurred, but even that was enough for him to realise that the hut must also be much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. He made out the outline of a huge fireplace and what looked like a bear's head hanging over it; only much bigger than any bear Harry had ever heard of, as big as a dragon, and with purple fur and horns to boot. In front of it was a long table with golden plates and goblets. And under his feet Harry felt a soft red carpet.

"How lovely," Daphne commented.

"We think so too," Ole said before calling out loudly. "Hey, Oglo, you blockhead. Guests are here!"

By now Harry's glasses had become clear again. He put them on just as a lanky guy with an apron covered in red stains came out of a door at the side. Harry only hoped the stains were tomato sauce.

"Always you with your guests," the man muttered in English, with a horrible accent but still understandable. "Here I am. No need to yell like that. And who have you brought me this time?"

"Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass here," Ole introduced them. "But the two will be travelling on to Everfrost. Do you understand, Oglo? The two are the honoured guests of our government. I hope you have prepared the nicest rooms for them?"

"'course. Potter, eh? We haven't had such a big fish in a long time. I wonder –"

"Why don't you go back to the kitchen, Oglo, and we'll show them to their room?", Line interrupted him, and it was evident from her voice that she was not pleased by the level of hospitality Oglo was showing them. Then she turned to Harry and Daphne and pointed towards a staircase on the other side. "If you will follow me."

She led them up the stairs into a corridor with three rooms to the left and three rooms to the right. Numbers were carved into the wooden room doors. They stopped in front of the doors with the numbers one and two.

"These are yours," Line said. "Feel free to get some rest. There will be dinner downstairs at 6 pm."

And with that she went back downstairs, leaving Harry and Daphne behind.

"Which one do you want?" asked Harry of his companion.

Daphne shrugged. "I can take the two. You've been number one our entire school years anyway."

"Still, this is your mission. Your idea. Without you, I wouldn't be here."

"You think I don't know?" said Daphne quietly as she pushed open the door to her room. " Let's, let's talk tonight, okay? About what to do next."

"Sure," Harry replied, but Daphne had already pulled her door shut behind her.


When Harry came downstairs later, several figures had already settled at the long dinner table. Ole and Line beckoned him over and he sat down opposite them. Only the seat to his left was empty now, and this was where Daphne sat down when she also came down shortly afterwards.

"Please accept my apologies for being late," she said.

"No worries," said one of the other guests, an older man with a long white beard. "Oglo is always late with the dinner anyway. You do well to come a little later, because it means less long waiting hungry. But you speak English, miss. You're not from here?"

Daphne shook her head. "No. We are from England. Daphne Greengrass my name. Pleased to meet you."

"Professor Moros," the man now introduced himself as well. "Pleasure to meet you as well. And you are?" He looked at Harry.

"Harry Potter."

Harry was already regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. At his name, the old man's eyes lit up, and the other guests also eyed him with a sudden curiosity. Not for the first time in his life, Harry felt as if he were an exhibit in a museum. Or a zoo.

"What an honour to meet you," Professor Moros said. "If you don't mind too much, I'd like to have a little chat with you later. I'd be very interested to know how –"

"Now, now, Professor. Don't scare away our guests of honour," Ole interjected in a reproving tone.

"But –"

"No buts. Not everyone shares your enthusiasm for history. Others just want to have a relaxing evening."

Professor Moros looked as if he wanted to protest, but the appearing food dissuaded him. Oglo – indeed a good bit past 6 p.m. – carried in several large bowls of spaghetti bolognese, his apron even more stained than a few hours earlier. And so Professor Moros tossed his long beard over his shoulder and plunged into the food like the others; though Harry noticed him giving him glances in between. Harry ignored them.

Instead, he listened to the conversation Daphne was having with their hosts about their destination.

"... quite desolate," Ole said just then. "Not much to see there, unless you're into snow and ice as far as the eye can see. The Ministry maintains loose relations with them, though, if only because as neighbours you just have to sort things out sometimes, even more so in a land so filled with magic."

"But don't get us wrong," Line said. "It's not a hospitable country. It is locked, and anyone who enters it without permission risks dying a most horrible and cruel death."

Harry's eyes darted to Daphne, who clutched her goblet tightly. Had she known this? But a new voice distracted Harry from his thoughts.

"Excuse me for intruding on your conversation," Professor Moros said from beside them. "I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying. Am I correct in assuming that you are talking about Servant Rupert?"

Line nodded.

"Ah, yes, a truly fearsome creature, from what one hears. Even though my area of research is the ancient giant wars, I'm also familiar with the Darkalben, which, as far as I know, is the most common theory about him, isn't it?"

"My school days were a while ago," Ole said. "But weren't the Alben godlike figures? Because I assure you, Professor, there is nothing divine about what this creature leaves behind. Or human."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

Ole shrugged his shoulders. "Aren't pretty pictures. Slashed carcasses, guts spread for miles. Eyes gouged out, but faces, if still present, clearly marked by the horrors of their last moments. And those are just the ones they found."

"And then the stench," Line said. "He's supposed to stink like Hel's chamber pot, I hear."

Suddenly Harry heard the tipping of a goblet, and the next moment dark grape juice poured over the dinner table.

"F-Forgive me," Daphne said hurriedly and jumped up. A large red stain was emblazoned on her white blouse. "I-I'm going to change." And with that she hurried out of the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"Your girlfriend is quite jumpy, if I may say so," Professor Moros said, turning to Harry.

"She's not my girlfriend," Harry said, his gaze still fixed on the stairs where Daphne had disappeared. He would have to talk to her later. Perhaps their adventure would be over sooner than he had thought.

"Well, in any case, I think I'd better stick to my books. But you're going to Everfrost, if I understand correctly?"

Harry turned to the professor and nodded. "Yes. On the initiative of the British Ministry of Magic."

That was the lie they had thought of beforehand and had also told the Norwegians. And because it was just that – a lie – he deliberately did not go into details.

Then, to steer the conversation in another direction again, he asked Ole and Line, "How do you know all this? About Rupert and all that?"

The two exchanged a look. "Work," they then said in unison.

Ole explained further, "We are often around here. That's where you learn a thing or two. Of course, also out of self-interest. I would hate to cross the border out of carelessness and pay for it with my life."

"I thought you were working in Yggdrasil?" asked Harry.

The two shook their heads. "No, we're very rarely there," said Ole. "Like when we're supposed to escort guests up north."

"Do you work here at the resort then?"

Again the two shook their heads.

"No, I'm a hunter," Ole said.

"And I'm a shepherd," Line said.

The two started laughing and Harry felt he had missed a joke.


Later that evening, Harry knocked on Daphne's room door with bottles of wine and Firewhiskey in his hands. He had the feeling she could use a drink. And indeed, when he entered the room after a quick "Come in", he found his travelling companion sitting on the floor in front of the crackling fire. Her gaze was lost in the blazing flames.

"Hey," he said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey," Daphne said. She pulled her legs towards her, her gaze still locked on the flames. "It almost feels like the campfire scenes, doesn't it?"

Harry looked at her in confusion and she shook her head slightly, her blonde locks falling in her face. If she were Ginny, he would now reach forward and brush the strands out of her face. But as it was, he simply asked, "What do you mean?"

"In adventure stories, you know," Daphne said. "A moment of peace for the protagonists before they have to face danger again."

"I've probably been on more adventures than most, and I'll tell you this. Campfires were clearly underrepresented in those."

Daphne sighed. "Must you spoil everything for me, Harry?"

The softness with which she spoke his name took the harshness out of her words. Harry held out the two bottles to her. "Can I make it up to you with these? I pinched them from Oglo's kitchen. Wine or whiskey?"

"Do you really think I need this?" asked Daphne, turning to face him.

"Honestly? Yes, I do. You remind me of Neville before Snape's exams."

"Then I guess I need it." And with that, Daphne reached for the whiskey bottle, opened it, and took a deep swig, only to cough violently moments later. Her face was bright red and steam was coming out of her ears. "Fire whiskey. A pleasure every time."

"You don't drink often?" asked Harry.

"No, it's not proper for the daughters of pureblood families. And you?"

"Rarely. Mostly butterbeer. But sometimes Fred and George smuggled harder stuff into the castle, especially after Quidditch victories."

At his words, Daphne smiled mirthlessly. "Funny. The Slytherin team also got drunk on the same nights. But for different reasons."

Harry chuckled as he now opened the wine bottle as well. "I would have loved to have seen that. Well then, cheers." And with that he clinked bottles with the whiskey bottle in Daphne's hands.

"Cheers."

They both took a sip and again Daphne had to cough, albeit less than the first time. Silence reigned for a few moments before Harry spoke up again.

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

"Only a fool would not be afraid," Daphne said. "But if you're asking me if this will jeopardise our – my – mission, the answer is no."

Harry nodded, now also looking into the flames. They reminded him of dancers surrounded by shadows. Or of fighters who dodged spells. Just at that moment, a log burst with a loud crack. Daphne winced slightly, as Harry could see from the corner of his eye.

"There's no shame in turning back," he said. "After all, we don't have a plan for how we're going to proceed anyway..."

"Did you have a plan then, when you went out to defeat Voldemort?" asked Daphne quietly.

"Not really..."

"Wasn't your venture hopeless from the start too? I mean, I have no idea what you did or how you were able to defeat Voldemort, but did you really think you had a good chance then?"

She had a point.

"Probably not," Harry said. "Only a fool would have thought that."

They both took another sip from their respective bottles. Harry could already feel a comforting warmth spreading inside him. It complemented well the external warmth of the fire.

"I'm not a fool," Daphne then said softly. "I know the danger we face. I know we have no real plan beyond reaching Everfrost. And I know it may cost my life. But I must do it to save my sister's life. For this obligation is the everlasting curse that has been upon my family, directing our steps for centuries. I look back and see my ancestors in whose presence I must prove myself. Do you understand, Harry? My sister. My family. This is not your fight. I... I was glad when you said you'd come with me. Because I am scared to death. But ... it's not your fight..."

Now Harry did something that had never occurred to him before. He placed his hand gently on Daphne's, squeezing it. Her hand tightened at his touch, but she did not pull it away.

"I promised to accompany you, and I will keep my promise," he said, before repeating the excuse he had also used to his friends. "And besides, I cannot allow an innocent person to die when I would have had the power to prevent it."

Daphne gave him a deep look, the doubt in her irides as obvious as the reflection of the flames blazing beside them. As if burning logs had been thrown into the sea and now had to fight strenuously to survive. Blue and orange, a truly stunning combination, and somehow fitting for his partner. The moments passed – heart thumping and logs bursting the only sounds around them – before Daphne finally averted her gaze.

"I— thank you, Harry."

Again they both took a deep swig from their bottles, followed by many more that evening. Meanwhile, they began to talk about all sorts of things.

Harry learned that Daphne's mother used to travel a lot with her and her sister, to all sorts of places in the world. Everywhere the Greengrasses had left their mark on history, be it as traders, warriors in the service of foreign princes, or explorers and discoverers. Always in search of a cure for the curse that weighed on the family. Some had even tried to bring down Santa Claus before them, but they had never returned. Daphne's voice had become very quiet at this point, and Harry had squeezed her hand again.

But he was also getting to know other sides of her. He had already known of her interest in history – who else would voluntarily sit in Binn's class – but that she liked to play Gobstone and had a weakness for ice cream, sometimes even sneaking into the Hogwarts kitchen for an impromptu cup of chocolate gelato, was not something he would have expected from the former Slytherin and pure-blood aristocrat.

In return, he also told her a few things about himself. About his adventures and how he had survived them with the help of his friends. About the feeling of waking up from a long, dark dream after his victory over Voldemort. And he even told her about the Mirror of Erised in his first year and what he had seen in it. This earned him a warm smile from Daphne.

But eventually their drinking, with which Daphne in particular seemed to drown her sorrows – of course something like that had been Harry's intention – took its toll. It was several hours later that Daphne was hanging over the toilet bowl, retching.

"Are you going to puke?" asked Harry, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter.

"Trashy people puke," Daphne said. "Ladies are unwell."

Daphne was very unwell that night.


The next morning, Daphne still looked a little sickly – and deep circles under her eyes adorned her pale face – but that didn't stop her from asking, as soon as they had taken their seats at the breakfast table, "When are we leaving for Everfrost?"

"We haven't received final permission yet," Ole said as he peeled his breakfast egg. "But it's only a matter of time. You can go skiing until then if you want. They have great slopes here."

And so they did just that – what else could they do? And Harry was surprised at how much he enjoyed skiing. It would never come close to flying, but for an earthbound activity it wasn't bad at all, especially on the steepest slope at a dizzying pace that made his teeth chatter.

Even Daphne seemed to take a liking to it. At a more leisurely pace, though. A much more leisurely pace.

No word came all day with final permission to enter the magical neighbouring realm, and so they spent another night in the wooden hut. This time, however, with less alcohol.

The next morning, Daphne asked her question again. "When are we leaving for Everfrost?"

"We haven't received final permission yet," Line said this time as she poured herself orange juice and gave them an apologetic smile. "But I'm sure it will come soon. In the meantime, would you like to go and see the geysers of Faerie Eye? They're really picturesque this time of year. Or go skiing again?"

In the end they did both, for again they received no word all day that they were allowed to travel on. And so another night in their domicile followed.

But they were not allowed to travel on to Everfrost the next day either. Or on one of the following days. And to their questions they always heard the same answer. They had not yet received the final permission and without it, unfortunately, they could not do anything.

This went on for three more days until Harry came to the conclusion that their hosts did not want them to leave at all.

"Bullshit," he said angrily as Ole once again launched into his rehearsed reply. "Are we prisoners?"

"As I said, we haven't received final permission from Everfrost yet," Ole said unimpressed. "But if you no longer like it here, we can arrange a ride back to Yggdrasil."

So they were prisoners.

"Thank you. We'll stay," Daphne said sweetly. Her eyes were hard.


"We have to get out of here," Harry said as soon as they had closed the door to the room behind them.

Daphne sat down on her bed and reached for her boots. "I agree," she said, as she started to put on her boots. "We need to get the hell out of here. As fast as we can. Fuck."

"Then we need a plan," Harry said, pacing the room. "Besides Ole and Line, I've seen at least eight other guards. Or whatever they are. It won't be easy, but I'm sure I'd be able to take down two in one fell swoop. Two more if they react slowly and we surprise them. After that, it gets tricky. We could use my Invisibility Cloak, but -"

"That might help," Daphne said. "But most importantly, we need to create a distraction."

Harry stopped and looked at Daphne. "It sounds like you already have a plan."

"Yes. And I think you'll like it."

Daphne gave him a conspiratorial grin that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Damn, how had he overlooked this witch all these years.


They decided to put their plan into action immediately.

And so it happened that about half an hour later the two of them, together with their guards, were walking along a high snowy slope to visit the geysers of Faerie Eye once again. The fresh snow that had fallen during the night crunched under their boots. A light breeze brushed their faces, which were nevertheless warm with excitement. Harry exchanged a look with Daphne.

"Ready?" his lips asked wordlessly.

Daphne nodded at him – and the next moment she slapped him in the face.

"Ouch!" cried Harry, and leaped backwards.

Their guards turned to them, but neither Harry nor Daphne gave them a glance.

"What the hell was that!" shouted Harry. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You know perfectly well, Mr Gryffindor," hissed Daphne. "You grabbed my bum!"

Harry crossed his arms. "Why would I grab your flat bum?"

"How dare you! Looks like all your fangirls have gone to your head!"

"Hey you two," Ole now tried to intervene. "I don't think –"

At the same time, Harry and Daphne turned to him and shouted, "Shut up!"

Ole raised his hands placatingly and took a few steps backwards, clearly unwilling to interfere further in the argument.

Harry looked back at Daphne, who was also staring at him again, her ocean-blue eyes glinting furiously. Harry remembered that water could break even the strongest stone and swallowed slightly. She was playing this well.

"Your attitude really pisses me off, you know," he then said. "Yet you're just another pureblood lady and wannabe princess who thinks people need to kiss the ground she walks on."

"That doesn't give you the right to grab my ass, you fucking saviour of the world! You must think you're Merlin reincarnate and every witch's panties instantly get wet at the thought of being grabbed by you!"

"As I was saying, why should I grab your flat –"

"BASTARD!" cried Daphne, drawing her wand. Harry had just time to reach for his own and hastily create a shield in front of him, from which Daphne's curse rebounded with a gong-like sound. With a hiss, the spell vanished into the snow.

But that did not stop Daphne. Curse after curse she hurled at him, and even though Harry had no trouble deflecting them, he had to keep his shield up the whole time.

Daphne's aim, meanwhile, was getting worse. Her curses were flying all over the place. One particularly ricocheting purple curse hurtled metres past Harry's head, straight to the top of a nearby mountain, where it hit with a loud boom. Nothing happened for a few moments, before suddenly the ground began to tremble.

Eyes widening in horror, Harry watched as a huge mass of snow broke loose and began to move towards them. They had started a bloody avalanche.

"You idiots!" shouted Ole. "We must take cover! We must –"

But his words vanished from Harry's mind as he leapt forward, knocking Daphne over and tumbling down the snow slope with her. His fingers clutched his wand so tightly that he feared it would break, but on no account could he lose it.

He called out a spell. The next moment they were surrounded by a magical cocoon that protected them from the largest shocks. But they were still shaken up. The masses of snow caught up with them and played with their cocoon like a ball in a stormy sea. Daphne clawed at him. She buried her face in his chest and Harry hugged her protectively.

He didn't know how long it went on, whether minutes or just seconds, but eventually the movement around them stopped. They came to a halt. Blinking, Harry looked around. They were surrounded by white. Snow above and below them. Snow on all sides. They were buried in snow.

But they were alive. Then they would get out of here.

Harry pointed his wand in the direction he thought most likely to be up.

"Flipendo!"

The snow above them was flung away and Harry caught sight of the blue sky.

"H-Have we made it?" asked Daphne beside him.

"We have," Harry confirmed. "But we have to get out of here. I don't know how much longer the cocoon will hold."

And with that, he began to climb up, and when he had made it, he helped Daphne. Panting, they slumped to the ground beside the pit, both of them completely covered in snow, clothes, face, and hair. Harry even felt as if a bit of snow had got into his pants and was now melting down his calf.

Daphne shot him a look before suddenly starting laughing. She threw her hand over her mouth as if to fight her laughter, but it was hopeless. She laughed and laughed and just couldn't stop. It was a bright laugh, pure and hearty, not the mocking sounds she had emitted during their school days with Parkinson and her friends. It was the first time Harry had heard his travelling companion laugh like that.

He liked her laugh, even if he didn't feel like admitting it at that moment. "I'm glad I could make you laugh for once, too. Even if it nearly got us both killed."

"That may be true," Daphne said, still laughing. "But at the same time, I haven't felt this alive in a long time!"

"Slytherins," Harry muttered with a shake of his head as he began to check his backpack. It seemed everything was still there.

He froze when all of a sudden voices started to reach them from some distance away. So they were already looking for them. They mustn't find them!

Harry opened his backpack and took out his Invisibility Cloak. Daphne had already joined him and so they both huddled against the snow before he threw it over them. They pressed against each other to give them both room under the cloak. Harry could feel Daphne's breath on his neck, but he suppressed any thought of the attractive witch in his arms as he cast warming charms on them.

Tensely he listened for the voices, but the Invisibility Cloak fulfilled its purpose, and after a few minutes the voices faded away again. Still, Harry and Daphne did not dare to move. It was still broad daylight and they would hand themselves on a silver platter if they revealed themselves now. They had to wait until it was night.

And so Harry and Daphne remained in the protection of the Invisibility Cloak and their warming charms, silent, only the closeness of each other and the pounding of their hearts as distractions from their thoughts. The hours passed, and eventually darkness settled over the snow-covered land.

Harry and Daphne rose and moved their stiff limbs. Then Harry shouldered his backpack with the Sword of Gryffindor and Daphne checked her great-grandmother's rapier at her hip. They exchanged a look.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

Ready for adventure? Ready to put your life on the line for a slim chance of success?

He did not speak the words.

Daphne nodded resolutely at him, but Harry noticed the trembling of her hands.

"What will we do if we come across Servant Rupert?" he asked the obvious question.

"Then we'll kill him," Daphne said.

"Haven't you heard the stories? So many have tried that, only to be killed themselves."

"Then we'll be the first," Daphne said and began trudging north through the snow.

Harry heaved a sigh before he began to follow Daphne. He just hoped that all of this wouldn't turn out to be a colossal mistake.

For a moment, a pungent stench invaded his nose. But then only the smell of the cold remained.