Daphne sat in the headmistress's office. Madam Pomphrey, beside the door, watched her like a hawk for signs of further fatigue that the pepper-up potion may have missed. The medi-witch had also healed her hand, after scolding her for not cleaning out an animal bite right away. Professor Slughorn stood behind the headmistress, worrying his hands together and bobbing slightly. Astoria sat beside Daphne, her back stiff and her arms crossed, her jaw set in anger. The office was filled with mahogany bookshelves that showed a massive and perfectly organized collection of books and scrolls. A few narrow windows let in the bright noon light, and a number of glass-fronted cabinets sat between the shelves containing what appeared to be devices that would periodically chirp quietly or let out puffs of chartreuse smoke. All of the remaining space on the walls was occupied by portraits of various headmasters and -mistresses. Most were asleep or out of their frame, but a few were paying attention, including the late Headmasters Dumbledore and Snape.
She knew she should be embarrassed by the scene she caused in the Entrance Hall, but she could not muster the energy. After she had fainted, the Hufflepuff boy, whose name was Billy Brock, started screaming bloody murder. A crowd quickly gathered which, fortunately, included Professor Slughorn. When the professor had calmed Billy and determined the cause of the distress, he decided to bring her to the headmistress. Headmistress McGonagall had worked very closely with the Resistance, or, at least, as closely as she could without risking her position and the safety of the students at Hogwarts.
Daphne realized she wasn't listening to the headmistress and tuned back in to McGonagall across the desk from them. She was calmly explaining what their parents had really done during the war. The announcement on the Wireless had not been a lie – her parents had turned the family manor into a safehouse for muggleborns and had funnelled much of their wealth into the Resistance. They were actually blood traitors, and had been executed for that crime.
"You must understand, I cannot tell you with much certainty who your parents had sheltered," McGonagall was saying. "Our records of muggleborn movement are sparse, by design. The Resistance was constantly at risk of being infiltrated or raided and we could not afford that information falling into the enemy hands."
Daphne shook her head. "I don't understand, professor," she said. "Our parents were – not brave. How were they part of the Resistance?"
McGonagall sighed. "Your parents never fought in any battles, it's true, but they did prove themselves to be very brave," she said. "But I cannot tell you their motivations. The structure of the Resistance was more a string of contacts than an organization. I hadn't spoken with either of your parents since they graduated."
"Who was their contact?" Astoria asked. It had been the first time she had spoken in the meeting.
"Remus Lupin, who you might remember as your defence against the dark arts teacher a number of years ago," McGonagall said. Daphne started – wondering at the chances of the werewolf rearing his head twice in one day. "Your mother knew him from their time at Hogwarts."
"Mr. Lupin is dead," Daphne said.
McGonagall nodded sadly. "A great loss," she said. "But it was common practice to share last letters to loved ones with these contacts, in case the worst should happen." Daphne looked up at the headmistress, scarcely daring to hope. "Remus could have had one from your parents."
Daphne blinked. "Where would it be?" she asked. The only things she or her sister had left of their parents was what they brought with them to the safehouse.
"Remus's only surviving family was his mother-in-law, Andromeda Tonks," McGonagall said. "I believe his effects were sent to her."
"Is Mrs. Tonks taking care of Teddy?" Daphne asked. McGonagall looked at her in surprise, but nodded. Daphne shook her head. "Then we cannot ask her to search through Mr. Lupin's papers for a letter that may or may not even exist."
Daphne was aware of Astoria glaring at her, but she didn't look at her. The child, lycanthropic or not, was far more important than their satisfaction, and there's no telling how long it would take to search through the werewolf's possessions.
McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "It still would not hurt to write her," she said. "There may come a time she sorts through his things."
"Why do we have nothing?" Astoria hissed suddenly. She was glaring at McGonagall. "Why are we left with a burnt-down manor and empty vaults?"
Daphne turned to her sister. "Astoria, that was the Dark Lord," she said. "He still destroyed our family."
Astoria directed her glare to Daphne for a half-second, then back to McGonagall. "Then why didn't you protect them?" she asked.
Daphne gasped and turned to the headmistress. She opened her mouth to apologize, but McGonagall raised a hand. "I don't know exactly what happened to your parents," she said sadly. "I know your manor was raided and muggleborn were discovered. They managed to escape to another safehouse, but your parents did not. I was aware the manor was destroyed, but not that your vaults were emptied." She sighed and looked at them. "I apologize that you did not know of any of this. I had assumed you were aware."
Astoria glared at the headmistress and left the room. Daphne, appalled and embarrassed, hurriedly apologized to her and the other two members of faculty and followed. By the time she got down the stairs, Astoria was halfway down the hall.
"Astoria!" she called. Astoria froze, then continued walking. Daphne cursed under her breath and ran after her. "Astoria! Wait."
Astoria spun around and glared at Daphne, her eyes blazing with fury. "What, Daphne?" she asked. "You think this changes anything? No, all this proves is that you are the coward, that you are the only coward. Mother and father would have let me fight. I know it now."
Daphne felt anger building in her chest and she was too exhausted to tamp it down. "What – what part of what they did makes you think they would let you anywhere close to the war?" she asked. "Tori, they kept us hidden because they knew what they were doing was going to get them killed. They did everything they could to keep us safe, so we'd live."
Astoria's eyes narrowed. "They gave everything to the cause," she said. "They'd understand."
Daphne clenched her fists tight. "You're sixteen, Tori," she said. "You don't even have your OWLs." She shook her head and glared at her sister, who was quivering with rage. "I spent the last four months trying to decide how to talk to you, how to apologize but – that's bullshit. I saved your life, Astoria. I'm not going to apologize for that."
"You kept me from killing the people that murdered mother and father!" Astoria yelled. "You kept me from getting revenge!"
"You would have died!" Daphne yelled. "You heard the broadcast. You can't be so stupid as to think you would've gotten through that alive."
Astoria set her jaw and turned around. "Don't talk to me, Daphne," she said.
She started walking away and, for a moment, Daphne considered not sharing the news she had learned that morning, but she swallowed her anger. There was a difference between being petty and being cruel.
"Apollo's alive," she said. Astoria froze again "Talk to Professor Hagrid, he'll let you see him." Astoria did not react, and continued walking at a swift pace away from her.
Daphne watched her sister leave until tears filled her eyes and threatened to blind her. She rapidly looked around and went for the first door she saw. She unlocked it with a tap of her wand and was thankful that the room – which had large windows facing the lake and many musical instrument cases in shelves along the walls – was empty. She did not think it was in use, either, as she did not know of any music clubs currently active besides the Toad Choir.
She sank into a desk and started sobbing into her arms. Today had been too much and she was only one person. How was she supposed to handle all of this? Just Apollo's survival had made her overjoyed and agitated beyond belief and now she finds out her parents were heroes. Her father, who had fainted when she had her first period, had hidden muggleborns from a brutally violent band of dark wizards. Her mother, who had often expressed her belief that muggleborns were too lazy to improve their social situation, had passed millions of galleons to the Resistance via werewolf. She had spent over a year thinking her parents were cowardly sycophants who fell victim to the Dark Lord's mercurial and homicidal disposition, but they were martyrs.
And the first time she tried to speak with Astoria they ended up screaming at each other. Daphne felt like she should regret what she said but she could not – she had not spoken a lie. Daphne had saved her sister's life and Astoria should be on her hands and knees thanking her instead of pretending she didn't exist. Maybe Daphne had managed to get through to her little sister, but she doubted it.
"Greengrass?" said a soft voice from behind her.
Daphne realized she failed to cast a privacy ward on the room and, resigned to embarrassment, turned around. She blinked when she saw a concerned-looking Bones in the doorway.
"Are you alright?" Bones asked and rushed over.
Daphne glared at the other woman who stopped a meter away and cleared the phlegm from her throat. "I don't need your concern, Miss Bones," she said.
Bones didn't move from where she was standing, but turned and addressed the open air. "Datzy!" she called and, to Daphne's surprise, one of Hogwarts house elves appeared in front of them. "Could we get some tea?"
The house elf nodded and disappeared with a snap of her fingers.
"I am going to have to ask you to leave me alone," Daphne gritted out and, realizing her nose was dripping, conjured a handkerchief to blow it.
A steaming hot pot of tea appeared in front of her with two cups, along with milk and sugar, and a small assortment of cakes. The antique set was bone porcelain with a design of purple snapdragons. Bones sat down and poured the two cups. She slid one to Daphne and spooned some sugar into her own.
"What cake do you want?" Bones asked as she mixed in some milk. Daphne glared at her. "Looks like we have lemon, strawberry, and chocolate."
Daphne sneered. "Have all of them," she said. "I am not having tea with you."
"You don't like me, do you, Daphne?" Bones asked and took a sip of her tea. Daphne gritted her teeth at the use of her given name.
"I am already having a very difficult day –" Daphne started and Bones, infuriatingly, interrupted.
"That's why I got the tea," she said and Daphne glared at her. "Drink. You'll feel better."
"If I drink it, will you leave?" Daphne asked.
"Probably," Bones said. Daphne scowled but spooned two teaspoons of sugar into her tea. "Is this about Apollo?"
Daphne sighed and poured in the correct measure of milk. She stirred it together and took a slow sip. She moaned quietly in contentment as the hot drink chased away the dampness that had settled into her bones. She then set the tea down, wiped her eyes, blew her nose again, and looked at Bones, who was looking back with satisfaction.
"I spent the past year thinking my parents had given away the family fortune funding the Dark Lord's regime in a failed bid to stay alive," Daphne said plainly. Bones' eyes widened in shock and she dropped her tea cup, which bounced off the table and smashed against the floor. She hurriedly pulled out her wand to repair the cup and vanish the spilled drink, and Daphne continued. "I just found out that they were actually heroes who were hiding muggleborns and funding the Resistance, instead. Then, I screamed at my sister, who has refused to speak to me for the past four months." Bones brought her hand to her mouth and her brown eyes were filled were sad concern. "So, no, Miss Bones, I am not alright."
Daphne took another sip of tea and wiped her eyes again, where tears were beginning to form. She set down her tea cup and was shocked when Bones softly grabbed her wrist. She looked from Bones' hand to her face – she was frowning sympathetically. Bones rubbed her wrist with her thumb and withdrew the hand to pour another cup.
"I'm sorry, Daphne," she said. "But, at least, now you know the truth. Your parents were heroes. That should be celebrated!" Daphne shrugged. "Now, which cake do you want? Because I've been eyeing this strawberry guy since it showed up."
Daphne looked at the two remaining cakes and her stomach grumbled to remind her she had yet to eat lunch. "I'll have the chocolate," she said.
Bones smiled and passed the slice of chocolate cake over. Daphne took a bite and hid a sigh of contentment. It was really good. She swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
"How did you call a Hogwarts elf?" Daphne asked. She hadn't heard of a student doing that and she knew her housemates would abuse such a power. She had never even seen one of the castle elves before.
Bones furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? I just called her," she said. "Anyone can do it, as long as you know the name of one."
"But – how did you meet her?" Daphne asked. Elves are inobtrusive to the point that it is considered a mark of pride if their wizard forgot they even existed.
"Er, in the kitchens," Bones said. "Have you never been?" Daphne shook her head and Bones smiled. "Oh, you have to go. The elves will give you whatever food you want whenever you want."
Daphne took another sip to hide the smile that had appeared on her face. That sounded really nice. The daily fare in the Great Hall was excellent, of course, but she often got a craving and would have to wait and pray that it would come up. There had been an unfortunate stretch in her already miserable fifth year that her favourite raspberry cheesecake hadn't appeared at dessert for over five months. And she knew the elves would be eager to fulfil whatever request she would have.
Bones smiled slyly and leaned in. "You know the hallway with all the food paintings? In the nice part of the basements?" she asked. Daphne suppressed a scowl and nodded. "There's a painting of a fruit basket. If you tickle the pear, it'll turn into a door handle, and there you go."
"Thank you," Daphne said, then sighed. "And, thank you, Miss Bones, for – calming me down."
Bones reached out again and grabbed her forearm lightly. "Any time, Daphne," she said and smiled. Daphne smiled back. "I have to admit, Harry and I were – concerned for you after creatures, and when I heard you had collapsed in the Entrance Hall and were brought to the headmistress's office instead of the hospital wing, I wanted to make sure you were okay."
Daphne stared at the Hufflepuff woman. "But, why?" she asked. "I was beastly to you in class today."
Bones smiled and squeezed her forearm. "You were stressed. I won't hold it against you," she said and pulled her hand back. "This might not make a lot of sense in your conniving Slytherin mind, but I was worried about you. You were already anxious from class and then you fainted in front of little Billy."
Daphne shook her head, then looked at Bones seriously. "Regardless, I am sorry," she said. "Both for my actions in class and when you first came in."
Bones laughed. "Daphne, you're going through a lot," she said. "You're allowed to not be okay." Daphne looked down to hide both her smile and the tears streaming from her eyes. "We should finish this cake. We have charms in ten minutes."
Daphne wiped her eyes and nodded. They finished the last of their tea and Bones called Datzy again to remove the dishes. They left the music room and, together, walked to Professor Flitwick's classroom. They did not speak but, in an empty hallway close to the classroom, Daphne stopped and, when Bones stopped also, grabbed both of the Hufflepuff's hands.
"Miss Bones, thank you again," she said. "Your kindness today will not be forgotten."
Bones smiled warmly. "You're welcome, Daphne," she said.
Daphne swallowed a bit of anxiety. "And I was wondering if I may call you Susan?" she asked.
Susan squeezed her hands and smiled. "Of course," she said and released them. She turned around, twirling her skirt. "Once you have tea with someone, you must refer to them by their first name. It's the rules."
Daphne smiled and followed Susan. "I think you and I went to very different tea parties growing up," she said.
"It sounds like you went to the boring ones," Susan said over her shoulder.
They entered the charms hallway and Daphne heard someone yell her name. She looked around in surprise and saw Tracy running towards her, Blaise half a step behind. Tracy was about to hug Daphne, but stopped herself. Blaise had no such qualms and embraced her tightly.
"Are you okay?" Tracy asked. "We heard you collapsed but you weren't in the hospital wing." Blaise let Daphne go and stepped back.
Daphne smiled at Tracy and Blaise, grateful for their obvious concern and touched that they had even gone looking for her. They started and glanced at each other. "I received some – difficult news after creatures," she said. "It wasn't bad, but – it was a shock. I am okay, now, thanks to Susan."
Tracy and Blaise looked at Susan with surprise, who waved shyly at them. Blaise turned back to Daphne and frowned. "What was it?" he asked. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine, we can discuss this after class," Daphne said.
Blaise looked put out, but nodded and looked back towards the charms room. "We are dangerously close to provoking Flitwick's newfound draconic wrath," he said, then turned to Susan, grabbed her hand, and kissed the back of it. Her blush filled her entire face. "Thank you, Miss Bones, for looking after our friend."
He then turned and walked into the charms room. Tracy rolled her eyes and followed, along with a smiling and blushing Susan. Daphne stood in place, frozen by Blaise's declaration of their friendship. Then she gathered herself with a shy smile and entered the classroom. She joined Blaise and Tracy in the back while Susan had gone to sit with some of her housemates, who started whispering intensely with her when she sat down.
Then, the doors to the room slammed shut, and Flitwick began his lecture. A few seconds later, the doors creaked open loudly to reveal Smith, who subsequently lost five points for Hufflepuff. Daphne saw that they were continuing the lecture on preservation charms – a subject she already knew – and she decided she earned the right to not pay earnest attention. Susan was right. Daphne had gone through a lot and it was okay if she wasn't perfect right now. She knew she didn't look perfect. She hadn't looked in a mirror since before breakfast, but her tights were still ripped and dirty from creatures and she didn't even want to think about the state of her hair.
Imperfection was a somewhat novel concept to Daphne – she was raised as a pureblood lady, after all. Refinement and perfection had been expected from her in all social situations. The tea parties of her childhood she had mentioned to Susan had been exercises in tedium and torture as she sat for hours, prim and quiet, surrounded by old women who only acknowledged her to scold her for inevitably breaking one of a thousand social rules or faux pas that they casually breached every other moment. They had been truly awful and had instilled a need to be proper and polite in front of authority despite the actions of those around her. Even when she didn't care about her academics, she still put in the appearance of being the perfect daughter of a Noble and Most Ancient House in class, even though her notes were filled with her first name paired with the last name of various upper-year quidditch players rather than the subject at hand.
Throughout the lecture she noticed Blaise and Tracy continuing to look at her with concern but, surprisingly, it didn't annoy her. She tried to convey back that she was alright, just tired, but she wasn't sure if she managed. Flitwick wrapped things up and Blaise immediately turned to Daphne.
"Are you pregnant?" Blaise asked. Daphne's eyes bulged out of her head and Tracy reached over to smack him.
"She would've been in the hospital wing if she was pregnant, idiot," Tracy said and Daphne looked at her, shocked that she had also considered the possibility.
Blaise nodded. "Right, I didn't consider that," he said. "What news did you receive, then?"
Daphne looked down and concentrated on putting her books and scrolls away. "I would rather not discuss that here," she said.
Tracy stood up and grabbed her bag. "Makes sense, we'll find somewhere private, then," she said, then looked down at Daphne. "Er, that is, if you wanted to talk to us about it."
Daphne looked up at Tracy and nodded. "I would," she said. "Like I said, the news wasn't bad, only difficult. I would very much appreciate your perspective."
Tracy smiled and rolled her eyes. She turned around. "Come on, then," she said and started to leave the room with Blaise. Daphne hurriedly followed but when she walked out into the hall she was stopped.
"Greengrass," Potter said from across the hallway where he was standing. He approached her and scratched his forehead. "I, er, wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard about your, er, spill."
Daphne smiled and willed her heart to slow. "I am alright, Mr. Potter," she said. "Thank you for your concern."
Potter grinned and nodded, then looked at her sheepishly. "I wish you'd call me Harry, though," he said.
Daphne's eyes widened and she could feel blood rushing to her face, but she nodded with a small smile. "Then I must insist you call me Daphne," she said.
Harry smiled widely, then turned to look at his friends, who were standing down the hall. She noticed Granger purposefully had her back to them. "Er, I should get going," he said and looked at her. "But, listen, if you need any help with Apollo, just let me know. He seems like a great little guy." Daphne smiled and nodded again. "I'll see you around, Daphne."
"Have a good day, Harry," Daphne said. Harry gave her a final smile and walked down the hall to his friends.
Beside Daphne, Tracy nudged her. "And you say he's not into you," she said. Daphne averted her eyes to hide her blush and smile but did not respond.
"Come along," Blaise said and started striding down the hall. "I know a lovely little spot around here that no one will ever find."
Tracy and Daphne hurried to keep up with him. "Except for the bevy of girls you've brought there, of course," Tracy said.
Blaise looked at her, offended. "A few boys, too," he corrected. Daphne giggled.
##############
Later than night, Daphne sat at her desk in her dorm room, brushing her hair for bed in front of the mirror. She could not wait to slide beneath the covers. It had been a remarkably long day and she was worn to the bone. Tracy was lying in bed reading a magazine when she sighed, sat up, and pulled herself to the edge of her bed. Daphne looked over at the movement and saw Tracy looking at her seriously.
"Daphne," Tracy said. "Are we friends?"
Daphne's eyes widened. "Is this about my impropriety before?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I should have known –"
"Daphne, stop," Tracy said. "It – it's fine that you hugged me." She looked down. "I want to know if we're friends because I could use one."
Daphne put down her brush and turned in her chair to Tracy. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Tracy winced. "It's – Longbottom," she said. "I – you know, I thought I was okay with what happened." She shook her head. "Obviously I would have preferred it if he had sent me an owl, but what happened happened, and I could deal with that. But now he's here, and he keeps on looking at me, and I don't know what to think."
"Do you think he's interested in you?" Daphne asked.
Tracy nodded. "He is," she said. "He hasn't tried to talk to me yet, but he is bad at hiding it."
"Do you want to talk to him?" Daphne asked. Tracy winced again and Daphne nodded. "How would you want that to go?"
"I would want to skip to the part where we have sex," Tracy said and fell back again on her bed.
Daphne's face burnt with embarrassment, but she pushed past that. "So, you want to be with him?" she asked.
Tracy pulled herself back up with a groan. "Maybe?" she asked in reply. "He's – really hot, and he seems like a really good guy, but…" Tracy averted her eyes from Daphne, who immediately stood up and sat down next to her. Tracy sniffed. "Why didn't he write?"
Daphne shook her head. "I don't know, Tracy," she said. "But he's an idiot for doing that to you." Tracy then leaned into her and, with some hesitation, Daphne reached her arm around to hold the smaller woman, who she knew was crying.
After a minute, Tracy straightened up and wiped her eyes with her thumbs with a loud exhale. Daphne let her arm fall and folded her hands on her lap. Tracy laughed wetly. "Sorry about that," she said and wiped her eyes again. Then she looked at Daphne, mortified. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. You already went through so much today and you really didn't need me laying that on you."
Daphne laughed and grabbed Tracy's hands, choosing to ignore that they were wet from tears and snot. "Tracy, it's alright. We are friends," she said, then she caught herself. "That is, if you would allow it."
Tracy looked at her, eyes quivering. "I –" she said, then hugged Daphne tight. "Thank you. I mean, I'm still not completely over you being such a bitch to me and there are going to be times that I'll dig at you really hard because it's really funny when you're all offended and prissy but thank you."
Daphne realized Tracy really didn't have any friends at Hogwarts and hugged her back. She should have noticed before, as, over the previous week, they had slowly started to spend all of their free time together or with Blaise. Like Daphne, Tracy barely spoke with any other students – no wonder she was so excited about having a confidante. Daphne then felt a smile grow on her own face. It'd be nice to have a friend again and, to be honest, Daphne liked Tracy much more than Pansy or Millie.
Tracy pulled out of the hug and grinned at Daphne. "Okay, now. What is going on between you and Potter?" she asked.
Daphne huffed and stood up to Tracy's amusement. "I have had a long day," she said and crossed over to her own bed. "Good night, Tracy." She slid under her covers.
"Just one question," Tracy said before Daphne slid her hangings closed. "You think he's sexy, right?"
Daphne's face burnt red again. "Good night, Tracy," she repeated and closed the hangings. Tracy's laughter rang in her ears and she nestled into her bed with a smile on her face.
############
Harry strode through the halls on Thursday evening after dinner towards the headmistress's office for his first animagus lesson, Maeve asleep on his shoulder. His mind was turning over a minor mystery at quidditch practice this week. Both Tuesday and this morning, when he had entered the pitch, Daphne's sister, Astoria, was running laps and would leave as soon as she realized she had company. It wasn't uncommon to find more serious quidditch players training some mornings, but he knew she wasn't on the Slytherin team. When he had mentioned her that morning to the rest of the team, Ginny said she had been out every morning since semester started, and that Harry could learn something from her work ethic. He had no idea why Astoria would have taken up jogging – judging from Daphne they had not had a very active childhood.
Daphne was a larger mystery. He was still annoyed by her distaste of werewolves. He understood that a fully transformed werewolf was scary – he had seen one before – but for the other 28 days and 27 nights of the months there was absolutely no threat. He knew a lot of werewolves had joined Voldemort, but many more had not, and those that had were motivated far more by the fact that they were left with almost no other options and no better deal because of the ministry's brutal crackdown on their rights than any predilection towards violence they may or may not have. But werewolves had a monstrous reputation, not helped by true monsters like Fenrir Greyback, who had been personally responsible for almost a third of attacks in Great Britain before his death in the battle. Harry understood why Daphne would not like werewolves, to a certain extent, but she at least must have liked Remus. He had been the best defence professor they ever had.
Harry had been about to write Daphne off and resign himself to the fact that she was still the same blood purist she had always been, but then she threw him for another loop. Her care and devotion towards Apollo and barely restrained distress at the state of the rest of the animals in class had been, honestly, admirable. Plus, she listened to Hagrid with respect, something he had noticed that very few do, and especially not purebloods. It was aggravating – he could not get a read on her. But he was glad he had asked her to call him Harry, the smile she gave him when she agreed had made the anxious request more than worth it. He was worried about why she had collapsed, but he didn't trust the rumour mill one iota on that. As she was a Slytherin, the prevailing theory was that she had tried to murder a muggleborn in Voldemort's name and Harry himself had rescued the boy in a dramatic duel. Harry shook his head. People really did piss him off sometimes.
His thoughts then, inevitably, turned to someone who didn't piss him off: the other woman he had been spending way too much time thinking about. Harry felt like he was really starting to like Susan. They had properly spoken in creatures and, once he got over his nervousness, he found she was really easy to talk to. They shared a similar sense of humour and her heartfelt positivity, even in the face of the horrific results of Voldemort's experiments, had been infectious. Every day since, Susan had made a point to say hi and exchange a few words with him. He was also surprised to see she was getting along with Daphne, who he had noticed had been kind of mean to her in class.
Harry smirked to himself when he realized he might actually manage to make out with the hottest girl in school. All he had to do was – everything else that would lead to him and Susan smooching. But he was on the right track. And he was about to get going on another one of his goals: animagus. He reached the large gargoyle that guarded the headmistress's office and, according to McGonagall's instruction, announced his name and reason for his visit. The gargoyle cracked an eye open, then stepped aside to reveal a circular stairway. Harry nodded to the gargoyle as he passed. He still wasn't sure if it was an animated statue or an actual creature, but it never hurt to be polite. He knocked on the door at the top of the stairs and McGonagall called for him to enter.
She stood as he entered and beckoned him to sit, giving him a warm handshake and smile. They had spoken many times in the days after the battle. He had stayed at Hogwarts for almost a week before he moved to Grimmauld as he recovered from the strenuous final days of the war. It had been a very emotional time and McGonagall, for however much she was busy trying to piece the school back together, had been a much-needed rock. Harry suddenly felt guilty that he had not spoken with her outside of class since term started, and that he hadn't started that conjuration essay yet.
He sat down across from her and she retook her seat. Maeve, who had woken up at the gargoyle, hopped to the back of his chair. "Good evening, Harry," McGonagall said. "I hope you're having a good semester so far."
Harry nodded and pulled out a roll of parchment and an ever-ink quill from his bag. "I am, ma'am," he said. "It's good to see Hogwarts full of students again."
He looked around the room and nodded to Dumbledore's portrait, who looked down on him proudly. He then looked towards the silent portrait of Snape. Harry had argued, with the support of all of the portraits in the room who had witnessed the truth of Snape's actions, that his portrait should be put up with the rest of the headmasters and -mistresses. Snape's tenure in the position may have been short and brutal, but it was undeniable that if any other Death Eater had been headmaster the school would have been unrecognizable as an institution of learning. Snape, for however much he had been a petty and vindictive asshole who Harry would always loathe, hadn't been evil, and he had curtailed the worst inclinations of the other Death Eaters placed in the castle. More than that, and as much as it pained Harry to say, Snape had been incredibly brave in his role as a double-agent in the war. He had saved countless lives and had been instrumental in Voldemort's ultimate defeat. Harry thought he should be remembered for that, despite how much he still personally hated the man. Snape's portrait had refused to speak since it was put up.
"It will take some time to fully return to normal, but I think we are on our way," McGonagall said, drawing Harry's attention back to her. "I heard you are planning to take some first years flying."
He nodded. He had coordinated a time late on Saturday afternoons for the sessions Hermione had promised, but Hooch wanted to wait until the following weekend when they had at least one lesson with her. He had been getting excited about it since try-outs, and the first years had already started to pester him with questions about flying.
"I, er, hope that's alright," Harry said.
"Madam Hooch is the final arbiter on the pitch," McGonagall said. "But I understand she plans to supervise at least the first session." Harry nodded – she had said so much to him. "Now, should we begin with your lesson?"
"Er, first, well, how are you, ma'am?" Harry asked.
McGonagall smiled at him. "I am well, Harry," she said. "There is still much to do, but I believe we are doing our best." Then, she dropped the smile and her face grew a bit sterner, and Harry knew she was about to start teaching. "Now, the animagus transformation is within the reach of any witch or wizard. The magic behind it is not overly difficult, but it is very delicate and precise. The most minor mistake can result in catastrophe."
Harry nodded. He remembered this from their lessons on animagus in her class over the years, which had mostly been cautionary tales about how dangerous the process is and of the many, many people over the years who had been completely or partially turned into animals, or worse, in the attempt. Falco Aesalon, an Ancient Greek wizard, was known as the first animagus, but the method by which he transformed into a falcon were lost to the ages. Since then, other magical people had claimed or were known to replicate the feat, but it wasn't until the 19th century that the secret to the animagus transformation was properly documented. The process of becoming an animagus was long and arduous, and required knowledge in potions, charms, and transfiguration. However, he personally knew two people who were not particularly talented or powerful who had managed the transformation. He knew he could do it; it would just take a while.
McGonagall continued the lesson and Harry tried to keep up. The theory she was discussing went completely over his head and, after a few minutes, he swallowed his pride and started to ask questions. The resultant discussion had Harry's hand aching from note-taking and his head whirling. Even the basic overview McGonagall was giving him was exciting and intimidating. The spell-casting process involved weaving transfiguration and charms together to build his animal body while retaining his human brain and soul, and Slughorn had agreed to help him construct the potion that would alter his physiology and actual magic so he could transform at will. The part he looked forward to the least was keeping a mandrake leaf in his mouth for an entire moon cycle. The leaf was bitter as all else and had numbing properties, and if he accidentally swallows it or spit it out, he'd have to start again with a new leaf. Through the discussion, McGonagall gave Harry several books and pointed to chapters or sections that would help explain certain points of theory, then she handed him a slim book titled In Animalis.
"While we can cover much of the theory, you must discover your animal before we start crafting the magic or creating the potion," McGonagall said. Harry nodded – he had been wondering about that, as he had noticed the potion needed parts of the animal he would transform into. "Discovering your animal is, itself, a process that can take a while. This book covers various exercises that will help." She then pulled out a larger book titled Bestial Thoughts and slid it over her desk. "And this book theorizes about the animagus-animal connection. It assisted me in discovering my animal."
Harry looked at it in interest and noticed it was the same author as the book on the patronus connection he was enjoying. He picked it up and started flipping through it, and was happy to see it seemed to put forward a similar, almost spiritual perspective on magic.
"Thank you, professor," he said and put it back down on the desk next to the six other books she had given him. He groaned slightly. "This is going to be a lot of work, isn't it?"
McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "We have only just begun, Harry," she said and looked towards a grandfather clock in the corner. It was past nine. "I believe we can wrap up here tonight. I expect you to have read the sections I indicated before next week's lesson."
Harry winced and started to put the books away in his bag. Even with the space-expansion charm he had put on it, he struggled to zip it up. "You got it, professor," he said. "And, er, thanks. For teaching me this. It means a lot."
McGonagall smiled sadly. She had heard the full of the story of the Marauders. "You're welcome, Harry," she said. "Have a good night."
"You too, ma'am," he said. Maeve hopped back onto his shoulder and he left her office.
Harry was subdued walking back to Gryffindor Tower. He was happy he was finally starting on animagus, but the evening had brought up a lot of thoughts about his dad and Sirius. He kept on wondering how they figured all of this out at 15, whether they were geniuses or insane or lucky in surviving the process without a permanent tail. Sirius had talked to Harry about teaching him, but they didn't have the time together before he fell through the veil of death. Harry fully knew the main reason he wanted to be an animagus was because of the two men he considered to be his fathers. He knew it wasn't a lot, but he felt like he was carrying on their legacy.
Harry gave the password – Glenlivet – to the Pink Lady and entered the common room. He scanned the large and comfortable room which was decorated with a lot of red wood and gold trimming. At this late hour, many had retired to their dorm rooms, but a few people were lounging in the couches by the cold fireplace and Hermione was doing homework in the otherwise empty study area. He sat down next to her with a groan.
"Hey, you ever learn so much your head starts to hurt?" he asked and Hermione looked up from her book in amusement.
"Was the lesson that difficult?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "And she gave me a mountain of reading," he said. "I'm starting to see why you and Ron gave it a pass." They had both thought the magic was interesting when Harry told them he wanted to give it a shot, but not so interesting as to put in the work. "What're you working on?"
"Defence," Hermione said. "Professor Abe assigned us three rolls on shield theory."
Harry nodded and looked down at her notes. "Henry Hollier invented the shield-breaking charm," he said. She looked up at him and he pointed at the parchment. "You put down Poller. Frank Poller was a Bavarian necromancer in the 18th century."
Hermione looked at her parchment. "Oh, thank you," she said as she corrected her information, then she looked at him. "You know, it's only the second week of class. I'm sure Professor Abe would give you a place." Harry scowled at her, she had made several such comments over the past week. "Fine, but you're making a mistake."
"Whatever," Harry mumbled and started to play with a discarded bit of parchment Hermione had crumpled up. She huffed and returned to her homework. After a moment, Harry spoke up. "Hey Hermione, what do you think of Susan?"
Hermione looked up and smiled widely. "Susan's great, are you thinking of asking her to Hogsmeade?" she asked.
Harry blinked. He had yet to think so far ahead as the excursion to the mountain village close to the castle which had been announced for the last Saturday of the month. McGonagall had decided to increase the number of trips to be monthly.
"Er, no, not yet," he said. "I just think she's – interesting."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I think you share that thought with every other boy in the castle," she said. He lightly threw the ball of parchment at her. "If you're so interested in her, you should ask her out."
He frowned, surprised she was encouraging this. "Er, isn't it a bit soon to be taking that step?" he asked. "I mean, I'm still kind of hung up on Ginny."
He had avoided thinking about Ginny as much as possible. He had yet to adequately explore his feelings about his ex-girlfriend, because he still didn't really want to. It was painful to see her everyday and work with her on quidditch. He had imagined a future for them that could now never be, that he had helped destroy. He had been so tired, but he loved her, and that love was the most important thing to him. He didn't know why it hadn't been enough.
"Harry, it's been months," Hermione said. "I know what you and Ginny had was – intense, but there's nothing wrong with moving on. You've expressed interest in two different girls since we got here, I think that's a sign that you're ready. You don't have to have everything with Ginny figured out to go on a date."
Harry looked at her. He had a suspicion that, as per usual, Hermione was right. "Right, thank you," he said. He suppressed a yawn that shook his entire body. "I think I'm going to head upstairs. Don't work too late, yeah?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her notes with a smile. "Good night, Harry," she said.
"Night, Hermione," he said, and ascended the steps to his room.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Two updates in a week? I know, I'm spoiling you. Don't spend it all in one place. But seriously, don't start expecting this. As I said in my last author's note, I have been very excited for these developments and found myself writing feverishly. It's actually unfortunate, I had shit to do.
Also, this chapter is dedicated to the one person reading this who was probably scoffing and saying I wasn't a real K-On! fan. I don't know if this person actually exists, but to this imaginary gatekeeper, here you go.
Anyways, so Susan kind of stormed into this story. This was hardly intentional, but I had been thinking about the character since the last chapter, because I really didn't want a character whose personality begins and ends as "hot girl and secondary romantic interest". In a lost author's note about Ginny's POV, which I cut in the third chapter, I talked about love triangles, and how I hate them. To expand on that a bit here, the sort of love triangle that I am thinking about is one in which a character is interested and is either actively pursuing or receptive to the advances of two other characters. I have, kind of, amended my thinking to the idea that this is not a bad set-up for a story, but I think it can really easily glorify some pretty shitty behaviour. I truly believe that peoples relationships should be respected and not interfered with as long as everyone's healthy and consenting, and these sort of stories seem to normalize the idea of breaking up these relationships or continuing to actively pursue someone who is in a relationship. And that doesn't mention the amount of emotional or physical cheating these stories inevitably entail. I hope my thoughts about this makes sense and I hope this doesn't come off as me attacking poly folk. I may not personally completely understand polyamory and I know it isn't for me, but, as I said before, as long as everyone's healthy and consenting, you do you. So, anyway, I guess I'm saying that this story ended up having kind of a love triangle, but, you know, it's not, like, an unhealthy love triangle. And at no point will Harry be juggling two girls at once, though, now that I mention it, the idea of him being on a date with two girls at the same time is tempting. It's a classic trope.
Also, I wanted to mention that I have no plans of having Astoria's mysterious "blood illness" in this story. Sorry for people who like sick-Astoria, but I would have brought that up if it was going to be an aspect to this story. My honest reason for this is that I did not remember that was a thing when I wrote the first chapter and by the time I remembered it was too late, since I'm pretty sure her fatal disease would seriously alter the family structure and Daphne's character. Another reason I will give is that I really don't care for a lot of the extended canon. You may notice I have some extended canon things in this story, but that's mostly so I don't have to come up with names for ancient wizards and stuff like that, and I think I'm making up way more than I'm taking from there. I don't think I have to say that Cursed Child was a joke, and Fantastic Beasts 2 is one of the only movies to actually offend me. The final reason I will give for the absence of sick-Astoria is that I know for a fact that I would not do it nearly as well as Petrificus Somewhatus did in "Daphne Greengrass & The Importance of Intent". If you enjoy this story and somehow missed that one, correct your mistake immediately and check it out. It's the only story I've favourited on this site. It is the single tightest and most polished piece of fan fiction I have ever read, in addition to being genuinely hilarious and heartwarming with amazing character work.
Kisses!
Do not speak of the Hag Queen.
