I own nothing.
Chapter XXVI
January 1994
If anyone would bother to ask, Harry would describe himself as a good boyfriend. It, of course, helped that his paramour wasn't shy about directly informing him of everything he does right or wrong. And while he was never one for grand romantic gestures (not that Daphne was any different), he always felt that his actions spoke louder than any words ever could.
Which is why when Harry decided the night before his return to Hogwarts to use the specially formulated shampoo Daphne had gotten him for Christmas, he was fully prepared to accept the consequences it would have on his appearance. And, by extension, the reactions others would have.
Just not this much.
"Bloody…"
"…Hell!" Fred and George started and finished for one another. They stood together, slack jawed, on the train platform in Hogsmeade. All around them, students walked by heading to the carriages. Every single one of them stared wide-eye at Harry's appearance, at least for a few moments before they scurried away.
"Language…Oh my!" Hermione placed a hand over her mouth in shock. She had come up from behind the twins and was forced to pause at the sight.
Harry's hair lied completely flat, and not in a tradition cut from any Muggle barber shop, but in an unyielding, motionless sort of flat. Given the length he already had, his hair came just over his eyebrows and past his ears. Harry couldn't be sure if it was something Daphne had put in the shampoo or just his hair's own natural tendency to clump together, but the hair over his brow parted in a way that it stayed directly over his eyes.
"Ummm…" Hermione really didn't know what to say. And Harry's completely blank facial expression wasn't helping.
"I would advise not laughing too much." Danny limped over to Hermione, he kept a hand over his ribs and kidney to sooth away the pain his older brother had so lovingly given him.
"Not…possible." Fred held his breath in an effort to hold back from saying anything.
"So…many…jokes." George held his fist over his mouth and bit his index finger as hard as he could. Meanwhile, Fred's face was starting to turn a fantastic shade of purple.
"I…must…" said Fred with a loud exhale and then proceeded with a devilish smile. "Hey Harry, were you worried that people thought you weren't quite evil enough so you decided to go with the especially evil overlord look?"
"Or are you just having trouble expressing your feelings?" George quickly followed, voiced filled with mock concern.
"Yes, do you feel we're not listening enough and that you are somehow misunderstood?"
"Have you tried poetry?"
"Or how about writing your emotions in your very own private diary."
"Which we promise we won't look for and read to the entire school as soon as possible?" George said while nodding, implying that he would do the exact opposite.
"Yes, Harry. We hear your cry for help."
"We're here for you buddy."
"You just go ahead and have a good cry."
"And then talk to your Dad and tell him you love him."
Fred and George couldn't contain themselves any longer and burst out laughing.
Harry stayed stoic through it all. He didn't blame the twins; he knew how ridiculous he looked. No. Harry knew exactly who was to blame, and she walking up to them now.
Daphne approached and stopped in her tracks upon noticing Harry's hair.
"What on earth did you do yourself?" She asked bewildered, her face contorted in clear disgust.
Harry, for the first time since the train arrived, acknowledged the people around him to glare at his girlfriend.
"And that's our cue to leave." Danny quickly said and pushed Hermione and the twins away towards the carriages.
Once Harry and Daphne were alone, Daphne began to speak.
"Are you angry at me? Because I can't see your eyes." She remarked flippantly. She did not show any concern about Harry's (obvious) displeasure.
"You did this to me." Harry said through clenched teeth. He was really trying to hold it in but he was absolutely livid; no one messed with his hair.
"I don't see how that's possible." It was just like her to deny her responsibility for what her gift caused.
"It was you bloody gift. You put something in that shampoo, didn't you?"
"Of course I did." She guiltlessly admitted. "Your hair was idiotic and I refused to look at it anymore."
"So you finally acknowledge that this is your fault." It had, surprisingly, only taken a few minutes.
"No." She retorted, her resolve was weakening but she was still standing her ground. "I refuse to accept responsibility for this. It was your choice to use that shampoo. I didn't force you."
"Daphne!" he hissed through his teeth. "This is not a good look for me." Looking around, none of their peers could take their eyes off Harry and his ridiculous new hair style.
"Well how was I supposed to know that?" she argued, finally starting to give in. "Your hair was ridiculous and you were too damn stubborn to listen to me."
"And you think this is better?" He pointed to his head.
Daphne's head bobbled a little as she was caught without an answer. "Admittedly, now I would prefer the 'escaped mental patient' look over the 'hey everyone, I have daddy issues.'"
"Mmmhmmm." Harry hummed an agreement before he turned and left her behind to head towards the carriages.
Daphne quickly caught up to him. "It will wear off in a couple of days. Just, you know, don't use that shampoo again. Ever." She added for extra emphasis.
Harry didn't reply. That wasn't going to be an issue. That bottle was now a smoldering pile of ash.
Once reached an empty carriage, he opened the door for her.
"How long are you going to stay mad at me?" she asked before she climbed in. By her tone, she wasn't asking because she wanted forgiveness, it was more like how a person asked how long their potions order will take.
"A couple of days," he echoed her, and then shut the door and locked her inside. He had a sudden desire to find a different carriage.
The Welcome Back Feast was a somber affair. The Daily Prophet had reported that Lockhart had failed to locate and neutralize the Heir's Beast, thus, all Muggleborns had been advised to either remain home or seek alternative education. The article also reminded all magical families that Lord Lucius Malfoy would help sponsor any student who sought education elsewhere. Many half-blood and pureblood students had decided to stay at Hogwarts, though, having faith in Lockhart and Dumbledore's ability to protect them. The Muggleborns remaining at Hogwarts (excluding Hermione) were only the orphans and those unwanted or outright rejected by their families. Lord Malfoy, it seemed, had not extended those students the same opportunity.
The Daily Prophet also reported that Lockhart no longer had a leading suspect, though it refrained from using any names, after finding conclusive evidence contrary to his suspicions. Those at Hogwarts knew that Harry was the aforementioned suspect and he hoped that there would be some reprieve from the dirty and accusatory stares. Unfortunately, judging by the eyes trailing him, few were entirely convinced by the Prophet's words.
'And I'm sure looking like I'm about to cry or murder everyone isn't helping.' Harry's eyes drifted to Daphne sitting a table down the line. He wasn't going to continue to ignore her for much longer. With all that was happening, he needed and wanted her by his side.
Once the food was cleared away, Dumbledore approached his lectern. "Welcome back students. During these tumultuous times, I must remind all of you of the need for safety. While Professor Lockhart continues his investigation, I shall be personally assisting him with his classes. Aurors have been stationed at every entrance, dormitory, and classroom. You are required to report your movements to these men and women as you leave and arrive. Please restrict yourself to the dormitories as much as possible. The library and any of the academic towers will only be available before the designated curfew. If, at any time, you witness something suspicious, immediately report it to your Head of House or the nearest Auror."
Dumbledore stepped away from his lectern and returned to his seat. Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater, the Head Boy and Girl, rose from their seats to instruct the prefects on how to escort the students back to their dorms, in light of the new security measures. Harry, though, didn't bother helping corral his fellow Slytherins. None of them had any interest in walking the halls with only Harry as their escort. As it turned out, the same held true for Daphne, given her obvious relationship with the one everyone believed to be the Beast's master.
Harry locked eyes (or as close as he got to that with his damn hair in the way) with Danny and gave him a reassuring nod. Danny returned it as he took Hermione's hand and held her close beside him. Fred and George stood with their younger brother and sister. Harry's attention lingered for a moment on Ginny Weasley. She appeared as scared as any other of the younger year students but there was something about the way she was looking across the room that seemed strange to Harry. As if she was worried that she was being watched and had a reason not to be. However, it could also just be inherent shyness.
"Well, are we going?" Daphne's voice drew Harry's attention.
"What?"
"We're not supposed to be walking the hallways alone," she explained. "And seeing as how no one wants us as their escort—"
"Fine." Harry cut her off and started walking.
They awkwardly walked together for a few minutes before Daphne spoke. "I know you're upset, and I know if the situation was reverse, I'd probably have killed you in a very gruesome way by now."
Harry could downright feel the 'but' coming.
"But, and I'm sure under different circumstances you would agree with me, that given my physical perfection that you would wish to correct the one hereditary defect that prevents you from matching it," she continued showing no humility whatsoever. "However, since this attempt was obviously unsuccessful and in an effort for reconciliation, I've come up with a compromise."
Harry stopped walking to turn and look at her.
"I will allow you one…favor," Daphne twitched. "That you may ask of me."
Harry didn't immediately respond. For her to willingly give him a free pass to do anything he wanted, was a very provocative proposition for him. Countless ideas raced through his mind. Fantasies that every teenage boy imagined played in his head, one after another. It almost brought a smile to his face.
And that's when an idea came to him.
"We should go to my room first," he said with little emotion.
Daphne's face showed no obvious sign of unease, but the subtle cues were there. They continued to walk in awkward silence until they reached the Slytherin Common Room. Many of their peers had retired to their dorm room but a few still remained awake. Draco and few of his fellow year mates were seated around the main fireplace. Their conversation halted once Harry and Daphne entered the room.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the so called Heir and his little pet concubine. Out for a little stroll with your monster, Potter?" Draco mocked, which made everyone chuckle.
"And that hair," Pansy, Draco's airhead wannabe girlfriend, started. "Who are you trying to be, Kirley Duke? Because he is much better looking than you'll ever be."
That earned a smirk from Draco. "Good one, Pans—. Hey! Where are you going?"
Harry and Daphne hadn't stopped, despite the insults, and were already walking down the stairs to Harry's room.
"They won't last much longer, Draco. You'll be in charge soon enough," Pansy soothed.
Draco didn't respond, he just kept his eyes trained intently on Harry until he disappeared down the staircase.
Harry closed the door and turned around. Daphne awkwardly stood in the middle of the room. Her hands were held together in front of her and Harry could tell she was trying not to fidget.
"Why don't you sit down."
Daphne did her best to hide her nervousness as she looked between him and the bed. She did eventually sit down, though, and kept her hands in her lap. Harry took a seat next to her and stared straight ahead. Daphne was the one to turn to him.
"Well…what are we going to do?" she asked, her voice betraying her a little.
Harry tried to brush his hair out of his eyes but it just wouldn't stay put. It was a pity; he really didn't want to miss seeing this.
"I want to see…" Harry paused to look straight at her. "…you smile."
"What!?" Daphne immediately jumped to her feet. "Seriously! That's what you ask for. A bloody smile!"
"Yes." He replied honestly.
"Of all the things…I mean…you could have asked—" Daphne stopped herself and sat back down. Harry figured she realized from the moment he mentioned his room that he could have asked for something much different.
"You could have asked," she repeated in a much softer tone.
"I know, but you didn't want me to," Harry replied, matching her tone. He'd never pressure her. He had learned long ago that Daphne came from a conservative upbringing and knew that she didn't always have the emotional support that he grew up with.
"It's not that I don't want to do more of those kind of things. It's just…"
"I know." Harry said for her. They were still young and there was plenty of time later in their relationship for those kind of activities. And he would gladly wait until she was ready.
"But a smile, really?" she strained to get out.
Harry shrugged. "I've never seen one."
"You've never seen a smile," she said wryly.
"Not from you, and…" he paused to find the right words. "I just want to know if you're happy." He paused again and watched Daphne react to his words. "Usually, people smile when they're…you know…"
"Happy," she finished for him.
"Yeah."
"I am, you know."
"Me too."
It was rare for either of them to talk about their emotions. Too many years of holding back made it difficult for them to open up, so it wasn't surprising that their conversation was so concise. She put her hand on his and rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that, holding each other, for a few minutes when, all of a sudden, Daphne rose to her feet and turned around to face him.
"Alright." She clapped her hands together to pump herself up. "You asked for a smile, and I promised you a favor, so I'm going to give you a smile." She managed to make it sound like a business contract being fulfilled; instead of just being a simple smile.
Daphne fell into deep concentration. Seconds passed and her facial expression didn't waver. As Harry watched her, he fought back a smile of his own at her struggle to manage such a simple act.
"It's not that hard, you know."
"Shut up!" she yelled irritably.
Harry held his hands up in surrender and leaned back to enjoy the show.
There were some noticeable upticks to the sides of her mouth but still no smile. What did end up happening was truly a beautiful sight; just for all the wrong reasons. The top part of her lips turned up, baring her teeth, making her look very uncomfortable. ***
"What the hell is that?" Harry sputtered
Daphne's face returned to normal. "What do you mean!? That's a smile!"
"You looked like you wanted to bite me." He said between chuckles.
"No, I didn't," she said defiantly. Daphne immediately headed to the bathroom to look at herself in mirror. Harry didn't have to follow her to know why, after a few seconds, Daphne screamed in frustration.
"I look like a bloody dog!" She all but shouted.
Harry broke out in laughter. Daphne came storming back into the room and started hitting Harry in the arm. "Don't laugh, you jerk. Or I really will bite you."
"I'm sorry." Though he really wasn't. "It's really not that hard."
"I'm just out of practice." She fruitlessly tried to explain herself with a crossing of her arms.
"It was a valiant attempt." He put an arm around her but it was quickly swatted away.
"Don't patronize me."
"No, I mean it."
"I can smile you know. I just…haven't in a long time." Daphne's voice trailed off unhappily. She was subtle, but it was clear that she was upset with herself that she couldn't manage something as simple as a smile for her boyfriend.
Harry reached over and took Daphne's hand into his own. "I'll just have to help you then."
"Oh yeah, how are you going to do that?" She tried to play it cool, but Harry could hear a hint of hope.
Harry pushed her onto her back and leaned over her. "I can think of a few things." He dropped down and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.
When he pulled back, Daphne looked him straight in his hair covered face. "You know, your hair being like this really isn't doing it for me."
"Oh yeah." He leaned down again and felt her respond to his touch. "So you want me to stop."
"I suppose I can just close my eyes this time."
It has been well established that the members of the Potter household were not in love with society's tendency to believe gossip over fact. The facts, in this case, being that there was irrefutable evidence that Harry was not a descendant of or in any way related to Salazar Slytherin. And yet, Harry was still being ostracized as a villain. Although, Harry had spent many years developing this persona, he never wished for it go this far. What made things even worse was the Daily Prophet's continued coverage of the media-dubbed, 'Terror at Hogwarts.'
And while the Prophet refrained from naming Harry directly, it strongly implied that a powerful family was possibly influencing Lockhart and that some kind of cover-up was perhaps in the making. Every day, it seemed, a new article — always written by the unabashed, yet popular Rita Skeeter — was printed about the speculation of favoritism and controversy inside Hogwarts. A majority of the criticism was directed towards Headmaster Dumbledore and whether or not the years had finally caught up to the famed wizard. Lord Malfoy, despite his exhaustive schedule, always seemed available for a quote, vilifying the state of their education system under Dumbledore's supposedly outdated leadership. Specifically, highlighting the mysterious circumstances behind Professor Quirrell's workplace injury that landed him the Long-Term Care Ward in St. Mungo's.
All of that put together was enough to test every ounce of patience Harry had, and it was only about to get worse.
A week after the start of the second term, Harry (his hair gratefully back to normal) stepped into the Great Hall and immediately felt every pair of eyes in the room upon him. This had become the norm for Harry ever since he was found standing over Creevey's body, but today something was different. For one, nearly everyone was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet and more than a few were also periodically staring at Danny, who, fortunately, had been left out of most of the controversy up to now.
As Harry started walking towards his and Daphne's normal spot, hushed whispers followed him. Daphne was already there and stood up to meet Harry before he could get to the Slytherin table. Judging by her expression, she desperately wanted to keep Harry as calm as possible.
"Harry," she started cautiously. "Do not, I repeat, do not read the Daily Prophet today."
"I don't read the Daily Prophet any day." He had long since stopped reading that rag.
"I know, but just in case you had some strange desire to read it today, I'm saying 'Don't.'" she emphasized by shaking her head.
"Why?" asked slowly and inquisitively.
"I don't want you to kill anyone." She actually made it sound like a real possibility.
Harry hoped she was just being overly dramatic but there was something about the way people were staring that piqued Harry's curiosity, especially since they were suddenly paying more attention to Danny. Anything involving his brother immediately sent off warning bells in Harry's mind.
Harry snatched a copy of the Prophet from a nearby student and started reading.
Who Control Hogwarts?
By Rita Skeeter
In all my years reporting the news, no story, since the disappearance of You-Know-Who himself, has gripped our attention like the current saga unfolding at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. It is not just because Hogwarts houses the future wizards and witches of our great society, and is now once again held hostage by an Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin. Nor is it because Daniel Benjamin Potter, the prophesized vanquisher of You-Know-Who, is currently in attendance. No, my faithful readers, the true reason our attention is so focused on that ancient castle is because we do not know what is truly happening.
It has now been released by the Minister of Magic, the esteemed Cornelius Fudge, that Heir Apparent Harry James Potter, older brother to Daniel Potter, manipulated events that made it impossible for members of the media (yes, even me, dear readers) to ever again set foot on Hogwarts's grounds. This incredible and unprecedented edict came with the bizarre explanation that the Potter patriarch, Lord James Charlus Potter, wished to have his sons' educations occur without unnecessary distractions. As a relentless defender of truth and accountability, my incredible reporter instincts instantly saw through this charade. Which only leaves one scintillating question; who is truly in control of Hogwarts? Is it the aging Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, or is it, in fact, the Potter family?
We at the Daily Prophet sought out the reclusive Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, but he proved unreachable. Stranger still, dear readers, despite the growing attention of his family and the events at Hogwarts, Lord Potter is nowhere to be found. Or is he? Could it be possible that he is the true 'man behind the curtain'…
Harry stopped reading and slowly balled the newspaper in his hands.
"I told you not to read it," Daphne murmured.
"I need to go." Was Harry's toneless answer.
"Where?" she asked, confused. After all, he had just gotten here.
"Someplace where I can destroy something," he replied a low, menacing voice.
"I'm sure that sounds very nice right now," she said in a patronizing voice with a soft pat on the chest. "But I don't think that would help matters."
"But I really, really, want to." In his mind, he was already underneath his invisibility cloak to sneak to the Room of Requirements. He could already envision the faces he'd put on the mannequins he was going to destroy.
"I know you do, but you're just going to have to deal with it for now."
"What do you suggest I do then?"
She pointed to the table. "Sit down and eat breakfast."
Harry had a moment of indecision. Do what she said or stand his ground. He could find merit in either plan, but ultimately…
"Fine." Harry agreed to sit down, but in protest. He ate his eggs in protest. He ate his bacon in protest. And he definitely drank his orange juice in protest. Just before he could slam his cup on the table, Daphne caught his arm, or at least tried to. Given Harry's obvious strength advantage, her hand ended up crushed under his wrist and the table.
"OW!" Daphne clutched her hand in pain. "Son-of-a—"
Harry's anger was immediately replaced with guilt. "I'm sor—"
"You're damn right you're sorry," she snapped at him. By now, they had the attention of nearly everyone in the room
"I—"
"No! Don't talk, let's go." She grabbed him with her good hand and started pulling him with her. "You're taking me to the hospital wing. I think you broke my hand."
They quickly made their way out of the Great Hall. Daphne didn't even bother to acknowledge the Auror standing guard. Harry was forced to stop and explain where they were going. The Auror, though, had heard a little from what had happened. He gave Harry a knowing look before sending him on his way. Harry had to sprint to catch up with Daphne. He could hear her mumbling to herself, none of it boded well for him.
"…I can't believe I put up with this. I deserve a bloody medal. In fact, I deserve one per term." She didn't seem to have noticed that he hadn't been with her the entire time.
Harry thought it better not to say anything and let her vent. Speaking would only make it worse. As they approached the hospital wing, Harry wisely walked ahead to report in to the Auror and to open the door for her. She only glared at him as she stepped inside.
Madam Pomfrey must have heard the door because she soon emerged from her office. She paused and narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Mr. Potter, what have you done now?"
"He picked a fight with a glass of orange juice." Daphne answered for him.
"And you…"
"Tried being the voice of reason." She held up her hand which has steadily growing more and more purple.
"I see." Madam Pomfrey took a moment to stare at both of them, obviously not understanding what had occurred. "Well then, come along. Let me see you."
Harry planned to just wait by the door until they were done, but Daphne had other ideas. "Don't think you getting out of this. You will be helping Madam Pomfrey."
"Mr. Potter will not be—" Pomfrey was interrupted by a heated glare from Daphne. "Fine. He can come, too."
They walked to the nearest bed and Daphne sat down while Harry and Pomfrey went to the medical cabinet. Pomfrey reached in and grabbed a bowl filled with a clear liquid and then another phial. She handed Harry the bowl and went back to their still very angry patient.
Harry placed the bowl on the table beside Daphne. She slowly eased in her hand into it and couldn't suppress a moan of relief.
"We'll allow your hand to soak before we attempt to set the bones. I'll return in about ten minutes."
"Shouldn't I take that, too?" Daphne pointed to the phial Pomfrey was still holding.
"It's for him." Pomfrey handed the potion to Harry. "Just in case."
Madam Pomfrey gave them both a warning gaze before she left, though, not to let their impending fight make a mess of her hospital wing.
Once alone, Harry maintained his silence. He still thought it best to let her be the first to speak.
After a few tense moments, Daphne finally choose to do just that.
"You have one chance to explain to me why I'm not about to be single." She was kidding, of course. Or rather, Harry hoped she was kidding.
"I didn't like what they were saying about my family."
"Really?" she said sarcastically. "They've been saying things like that every day for the last month."
"They went after my father."
"And that surprises you? They actually made a decent point. Your father could be helpful to you if he could manage to show up."
Harry was faced with a tough decision. He could continue to keep his family's last remaining secret or tell her why his father had not been seen for all these years. The real question he faced, though, was did he trust her? Looking at her now, there was one clear answer.
Harry took out his wand and cast a privacy spell around them.
"What are you doing?"
"What I'm about to tell you can't be overhead." Daphne looked around them. They were completely alone.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she asked, trying to hide how worried she was.
Harry took a deep breath before he began. "When Danny and I were growing up, we didn't know about his magic. Until one night, Danny had a nightmare and his magic overreacted. My father couldn't handle the stress of keeping the manor cloaked."
"What happened?" Daphne was no expert but she knew enough about wards to know the damage such a thing could have on a person.
"He recovered…the first time it happened." He said as he remembered that terrible night.
"The first time?" she asked carefully. "How many times..."
"Just one more, but it was much worse."
"How worse?"
"He's paralyzed," he said poignantly.
Daphne grew up in the wizarding world, she understood exactly what something like this meant. She then stared at him as if she finally understood something.
"So that's why…"
"We needed a way for me to be able to speak for him." Harry finished for her. It felt oddly satisfying to finally tell her why he was named Heir Apparent at such a young age.
"But you can't honestly believe you'll be able to keep that going forever." Her demeanor had now changed to more analytical. He could see her trying to work out ways to help him. He was relieved, he was glad she wasn't afraid like she had been when she found out about Danny.
"Dumbledore's been trying to find a cure and we've just been lucky that all the attention has been focused on me and Danny, instead." Harry balled up his fists. "But now…I don't know what might happen."
"I would bet Lord Malfoy's involved." She began to speculate. It would seem that she was no longer upset at him about her hand. "And Skeeter would definitely take a bribe to write anything."
"So now do you understand?" He watched her closely, hoping to hear that she did. He had a feeling that he was going to need her before this was over.
"I guess." She offered meekly. It was exactly the strongest response he could get, but he'd take it. He reached over to hold her good hand and began to rub it softly.
"Still together?" he asked, just to make sure.
"Being single is overrated." She said in her typical Daphne way. "Too many people think they're entitled to whatever they want."
"Yeah…wait what?" Was someone harassing her? "Who's—"
"Never mind. Forget that, it's not important." She quickly added dismissively.
Harry certainly thought it was important. It would be good to have someone to release all this anger on. Daphne could see his thoughts and was quick to discourage him.
"Don't start. I'm insanely attractive. It comes with the territory. And if everyone didn't think you were some kind of psycho, you'd be dealing with the same."
"So you think I'm insanely attractive, too, huh?" he quipped with a small smirk.
"Don't be so narcissistic."
February 1994
As the week went on, more articles were published calling for Lord Potter to appear and respond to these rumors. Harry and his father had had a long mirror chat once the news had reached the Cove of the Daily Prophet's attacks. There was little that could be done, not without exposing their family's secret. Not without showing the world that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter was headed by a disabled man, a cripple as the magical world would see him; a harsh truth, but a truth nonetheless.
Their only course was to weather the storm with the hope that the efforts to find the true Heir of Slytherin would end quickly. Their faith, it seemed, was completely reliant on Gilderoy Lockhart, a rather dubious faith at that. After all, the rumors and speculation of Rita Skeeter that James was Dumbledore's co-conspirator in covering up the events at Hogwarts could easily be dismissed with one word from the famous dark creature hunter. And yet, Lockhart had, thus far, refrained from commenting with the excuse that he didn't wish to reveal any sensitive information that might inform to the Heir how close he was to being caught.
Rita Skeeter, though, used the fact the famously loquacious hunter wasn't being as forthcoming as usual as further proof that something was indeed being hidden from the public.
Needless to say, Harry was not particularly happy at the moment.
Harry entered the Slytherin common room with fire in his trail. The day, like all days, had been filled with dirty looks, bumps in the hallway, tripping hexes, and more. He couldn't count the number of times he had repaired rips in his school bag after people cast cutting curses to spill its contents in the middle of the hallways. For now, fear had given way to anger. The Gryffindors, especially, were now determined to show that they didn't fear the alleged Heir of Slytherin and not even Fred, George, Hermione, or Danny's voices could dissuade them. They, it was assumed, were merely victims of Harry's brainwashing.
Within Slytherin House, with Draco as their spokesman, Harry was laughed at. The idea that a half-blood could continue Salazar's legacy was laughable to them and many rejoiced in Harry's struggle. Harry could once again feel Malfoy nipping at his heels to take his title.
The only comfort Harry had each day was Daphne. She listened to him vent his frustration, soothe his anger, and allow him some measure of peace. Without her, Harry would have probably filled the hospital wing with students sporting all sorts of nasty injuries. Without the ability to train in the Room of Requirements, due to the travel restrictions for students, Harry did not have his full resources to vent his anger in the physical sense.
He scanned the busy room quickly to make sure Daphne was there and found her in their usual spot by the corner fireplace. As he made his way to her, grins and snickering followed him. One of Malfoy's fellow third years, Theodore Nott (Harry believed) even stood up and slowly started to clap. Beside him, Malfoy and others were in a state of uncontrollable laughter. Harry didn't pay them any attention but his hand was firmly grasped around his wand and it took everything to hold back.
When he finally made it to Daphne, he threw up a privacy ward around them and threw down his school bag at his feet and dropped into his chair. He felt the heat of the fire and subconsciously scooted his chair away from it. All the while, he stared intensely at the wall in front on him.
Daphne slowly closed her book and turned to him with a neutral expression, but didn't say anything.
"I know what you're doing," he said to her without turning.
Daphne still did not speak.
"You think, 'Harry's here. Time to listen to how bloody awful his day was. Yippee!'"
Daphne, still, did not change. She only blinked in a slow deliberate manner. Harry knew her well enough that she was thinking exactly that; except probably without the 'Yippee' part.
"Why can't they—why am I—why—?" he couldn't form the words right now. None of them, though, were things she hadn't already heard him say.
Harry balled his left fist while his right slipped into his robes to pull his wand.
"What if I…what if I started being what they think I am, huh? That's an idea, right? I could just start firing back."
Daphne did not react or respond.
"I mean, sure, it would make things a lot worse. 'Look everyone, he really is evil' 'He really does want to hurt us,'" said Harry with a slightly higher pitched voice. He held up his wand in front of his face and spoke as himself. "You damn right I do. I just want to rip off every last one of their little faces and tear them into little tiny pieces. I could do it, you know." He stared at his statue of a girlfriend. "Wouldn't be that hard, either. I'm sure the Restricted Section would have the spells I'd need." Harry's speech then started to tamper off in incoherent mumbling describing how he would get past the Aurors on guard and where he would hide the bodies.
Meanwhile, Daphne did nothing but sit there quietly, unmoving, and with absolutely no reaction to Harry's plot to perform a mass "de-facing" of the entire student body.
Her inaction now, though, was beginning to irritate him.
"Are you going to just sit there all night, hmm? Aren't you going to say how stupid I'm being? That I'm thinking like a Neanderthal. Me Harry, me have big stick, me hit you long time." He ended miming the action on multiple imaginary targets.
Even then, Daphne did nothing.
Harry leaned in and spoke quickly and neurotically. "You not speaking is making me want to start punching things."
Daphne blinked slowly.
"I'll do it."
She blinked again.
"You not going to win this time."
Her eyes were closed for a good three seconds this time.
"Fine!"
Harry leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and pouted. Through the corner of his eyes, he could see her pick up her book and return to reading.
Internally, Harry was fuming. Why did she get to win? He was the one with all the problems. Why couldn't she just let him vent and agree with everything he said? And if things were to naturally progress to them in his room and a good snogging, then so be it. Snogging was a wonderful way to destress. He didn't find that to be unreasonable at all.
But noooo… All she could do was sit there and stare at him like a child throwing a temper tantrum: which he most certain was not doing.
Harry was broken out of his pity party by Daphne closing her book again with a long sigh and rising from her seat. She came to stand by his armrest and looked down at him expectantly.
"What?" he asked.
"You coming or what?"
"Where?"
"Where do you think? Or do I need to spell it out for you?" She then started walking to and down the steps leading to the boys' dormitories.
Incredibly, it took a second for Harry to realize what was happening before he took off like a rocket after her.
Harry contently leaned back on his bed with both hands behind his head. A ghost of smile peeked out from the corner of his lips. Snuggled up beside him, Daphne rested her head on his chest. She had one hand wrapped underneath him while the other lied over his heart.
"Better now," she asked. Her voice was soft and had a dreamy tone. It was still early in the evening, but coming off one of their more heated make-out sessions had her ready for a good night sleep.
Harry only hummed his response while bringing one arm down to rest on her shoulder and pulling her in closer. She shifted a little to get more comfortable before closing her eyes.
"Good."
After a brief moment of silence.
"I still wouldn't mind hitting a few people." He said drowsily, his eyes drooping a little.
She gave his chest a few gentle pats. "What else is new?"
The idea, though, was now in Harry's head. "I could start with Nott."
Daphne's eyes opened and her dreamy expression turned sour.
"Crabbe and Goyle would probably try to help but it wouldn't matter."
"It wouldn't?" Harry conveniently missed her deadpan tone.
"You think those two apes could lay a hand on me. Have a little faith."
Daphne wordlessly pulled out from his arms and slipped her feet off the bed.
"What's wrong?" he asked, already missing her.
"Nothing's wrong." She replied dismissively.
Harry didn't believe her. He knew that tone well enough. "I think something is wrong."
"Oh! So you're thinking now." She said in mock surprise.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She turned to him and spoke plainly. "It means that if you don't start learning how to relax and get over what other people are saying—or doing—then one of these chumps are going to do that one last thing that will send you over the edge and—"
"Hey, hey, hey," Harry had gotten up and wrapped his arms around her. "I was just joking around."
"I'm the funny one, not you."
Harry couldn't suppress a small smirk. "I'm not going to doing anything stupid. I promise." He leaned in for a quick kiss and was pleased to feel her respond to it.
"And learning to relax?" she asked.
"We could always snog more," Harry offered.
That idea was reject with a deadly side-eye. Harry knew it was a long-shot but you can't blame a guy for trying.
Without the more pleasurable option, Harry had to think. "Well I can't train like I want to."
"I said you need to relax more."
"Training is relaxing."
"I can't believe I'm dating you." She said with a half-hearted shake of her head.
Harry scooted closer and smiled. "I'm insanely good looking, remember."
Daphne choose to ignore him and instead asked. "What else?"
Harry could have said something egotistical and witty about himself, but thought better. One of the best ways for him to relax was to keep her relax. Again, he thought it better to keep that to himself. He instead took a serious moment to ponder ideas. Almost immediately, a specific set of images played in his mind. The gazebo at the Cove, watching the sunset with one arm around his brother, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff side.
Home.
Home was where he could relax. But home was far away right now.
"…Some nights, when the sky was really clear, Danny and I would sneak out. There's a window in one of the spare bedrooms that would let us onto the roof. It wasn't really safe but we didn't know yet about his magic. We would spend hours up there, watching the stars. It was the closest we got to seeing how big the world truly was."
Daphne was seated next to him. She held his hand with both of hers.
"Sounds like a good place to grow up," Daphne said, with a hint of envy.
Harry looked to her and pulled her closer. "I'd love to show you one day."
"I'd like that," she replied, barely above a whisper, and rested her head on his shoulder.
Harry liked the idea, too. He could just imagine his parent's reaction to meeting Daphne. To watch her go toe-to-toe with Sirius and put the mangy dog in his place. But, most of all, to show her what a real home was like. He didn't know much about her home life—she always refused to speak about it—but knew enough that it wasn't like his. To share that with her would be a good day, indeed.
The young couple sat in comfortable silence before a new thought came to Harry.
"Baths."
"What?"
"I like baths." He stated simply.
Daphne gave a queer look. "You know that I'm the girl, right?"
"Daphne." He warned.
"Do you use bubbles?" she asked wryly. "What's the name of your rubber ducky?"
"Not funny."
"Ok…so take a bath, then."
Harry looked between her and his bathroom. "Well unless you plan on joining me…"
"What? In there." She pointed at his bathroom. "No, not in there."
"What's wrong with my bathroom?" It wasn't like it was unkempt, the house elves came through every day.
"It's miniature." She stated, pointing out the obvious. The fact was all the bathrooms in the Slytherin dorms were designed more for showers than baths. There was only one place a person could go for a proper one of those.
"I am not going there." He shook his head vigorously.
"It's two hours until curfew." Daphne reasoned.
"Maybe for you. I've got ever Auror, professor, and student watching every step I make." He didn't even bother to mention all the paintings.
"You're innocent."
"Tell that to the world."
"Look, we're still prefects and Clearwater worked her arse off for us all to keep that privilege."
"That's because it's where she and Weasley like to—"
"Yes, I know!" she quickly interrupted. She did not wish for that mental image to be in her head. "Even still, it's a place for you to go to be alone and…" she tried to play it as cool as possible. "…some of the taps are really nice."
"Now who's the girl?" he quipped. He never missed a chance to tease her when she said something particularly feminine.
"I am or haven't you noticed these." She pointed to her breasts.
Harry did notice them (quite often, actually). "I'm still not going."
"Yes, you are." She crossed her arms. "And if you do, maybe, next time, I'll go with you."
Harry sprung to his feet. "Are there towels there or do I need to bring my own?"
Draco's attention was immediately drawn away from the conversation around him. Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass had emerged from the boy dormitories, no doubt after finishing a snog. He may hate them, but Greengrass was still an attractive witch. Her family may be worthless and held no social standing, but she still would have made a pretty plaything. Draco smirked. There were many witches that would look at him as a means to raise their family's position. He knew that was why Pansy always stayed close, but she wasn't viable to him long-term. When the time came, Draco was sure his father would find a suitable family with a suitable daughter. If only Greengrass's ancestors hadn't tanked their house.
"I got it. 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42."
"And you have to use them in that order."
"Any particular reason?"
"I don't have to explain it to you. You just need to trust that it's important."
Draco saw Potter roll his eyes and say. "Yes, Ms. Greengrass."
"That's a good boy."
The two of them walked through the exit wall and after a few seconds, Greengrass walked back in. She went back to the staircase and headed down towards the girl's dormitories.
"Excuse me, everyone," said Draco as he stood and straightened his robes. "I just remembered I need to go to the library."
"It's late, Draco." Pansy looked up at him with puppy dog eyes.
"I'll be back before curfew, Pansy, I assure you. I just need to checkout a book."
"Well hurry back." She cooed.
"Of course."
"I'll miss you."
Draco smiled but didn't reciprocate. He waved off Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't need them for what he was about to do.
When he stepped out into the hallway and breathed in the damp dungeon air, he turned to the Auror standing guard.
"Library."
The Auror flipped through his clipboard and produced a quill. Every Auror on guard had one of these clipboards. There was a piece of parchment for every location in the castle. An Auror would write the name of a student on the parchment corresponding with their desired destination and the Auror at that location would know to expect them.
"Name?"
Draco paused, annoyed that the man didn't already know. "Draco Malfoy."
"You'll have fifteen minutes to report to Auror Locke."
Draco was well aware of the time restraint, having made this trip already. Which was why, as soon as he was out of sight of the Auror, he broke out in a dead sprint.
The prefect's bathroom was on the fifth floor behind the fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. To Harry, it was hell of a long walk for something as simple as a bath. The Auror on guard was named Shephard. She was relatively young, probably ten years out of Hogwarts, and did not look happy with her assignment of guarding a bathroom. She saw Harry approaching and started flipping through her clipboard.
"Potter?"
"Yes. I'm here to use the bath."
"Password is—" Shephard stopped when another person came into the hallway. Harry recognized her immediately and cursed the fates.
"Chang?" Shephard asked.
"Yes." Cho Chang eyes nervously stayed on Harry.
"Auror Locke was supposed to tell you that someone was already coming here." Shephard stated, clearly annoyed.
"Someone was arriving at the library at the same time I was leaving." Cho started to explain. "Auror Locke said he was going to report me after checking in Malfoy and told me to go ahead."
Shephard did not look pleased. It was a clear breach in protocol, meant to avoid situations just like this one. "Mr. Potter's name was here first. You'll need to report to your dormitory."
"No." Harry interjected. "Let her use it." She probably needed it more than him.
As Shephard shuffled her clipboard, Harry and Cho were left to awkwardly stand beside each other.
"Thank you, Harry," she said softly.
"Don't mention it."
More awkward silence followed. Chang looked like there was more she wanted to say while Harry just wanted to leave, but it appeared as if Shephard was having trouble with her quill.
"Blasted thing. You two wait here. I need to get a replacement."
"How long?" Harry asked, he desperately want to leave and avoid another awkward encounter with the Ravenclaw.
"As long it will take." Shephard stated, implying that they better not move until she returned.
Harry walked towards the wall to lean against it as they wait, but really, it was just to put more distance between him and Chang. She continued to stand in the middle of the hall, trading glances at Boris the Bewildered and Harry. It was obvious that she was trying to work up the courage to say something.
"Merlin! Just say it." If it had to happen, he'd rather just get it over with.
Chang jumped at his words. She then cast her head down and spoke softly. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."
"For what?" He had barely interacted with her ever since their date last year and, if truth be told, he was the one who needed to apologize for that.
Cho took a deep breath, as if summoning some inner courage. "I don't believe you did it."
Harry almost felt the need to pinch himself. Those were the last words he expected to come from her mouth. Since the morning after Creevey's body was found, Chang had loudly agreed that Harry was as crazy as everyone thought. She, of course, had her own personal experience with Harry that gave her voice some credibility; so he couldn't really blame her. However, to hear her now recant herself, left him truly puzzled.
"Why the change?"
"I just…I don't believe you could be the Heir of Slytherin." She still avoided looking at him.
"Because I'm not." He wasn't going to let her off too easily and it felt oddly satisfying to see her look so guilty.
"I understand that now." She looked at him finally. "…and I just wanted to say sorry."
Before Harry could respond, Shephard returned. "Both of you are good to go. Ms. Chang, the password is Dharma."
As Harry was walking away, Chang called out to him again. "I'm with Cedric Diggory now. He's really good to me."
Harry had no idea why she told him that. Did she want him to feel jealous or something? He really didn't care.
"Great," he said emotionlessly.
"Get going, Mr. Potter. Auror Hume is expecting you."
Harry turned around to leave as Chang entered the bathroom. As he walked away, Harry considered what she had said about believing him innocent. It was surprising to say the least, but a hopeful sign that others would realize the truth. And as for Chang, well, Harry supposed he could forgive her.
It was just after midnight when Auror Hume woke Harry from his bed. He wasn't told what was going on, only that the Headmaster requested his presence in his office. Harry was barely able to put on his robes before Auror Hume insisted they leave. By the time they made it to the hallway, Harry no longer wondered what was happening. The timing, the immediacy, and the fact that Auror Hume had his wand in hand told him enough: there had been another attack.
Harry walked up the Headmaster's staircase alone. Inside the office, Harry was a bit surprised to see Professor Lockhart there as well. He had expected a private conversation with Dumbledore before facing the creature hunter. Lockhart, as if sensing Harry's thoughts, had a calculated smirk on his face, like a hunter who had cornered his prey.
Harry took the empty seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. The Headmaster was settled into his ornate chair while Lockhart stood to his right, next to Fawkes's perch. The phoenix, though, was nowhere to be found.
Professor Lockhart was the first to speak. "At 9:05pm this evening, Auror Shephard found the body of Ms. Cho Chang in the prefect bathroom." Lockhart travelled from behind the desk to stand before Harry. "She was found floating in the water with the taps still running."
"Is she alive?"
"Yes, Harry. She was only petrified," assured Dumbledore.
Harry let out a breath in relief he didn't know he was holding.
"Do you know who, besides Auror Shephard, was the last person to see Ms. Chang?" Lockhart asked.
Harry did, which led him to the only conclusion he could make. "Am I under arrest?"
Lockhart burst out in unexpected laughter. "Merlin, no!" He chuckled some more (but now it was probably due to Harry's shocked expression). "You're not the Heir, Mr. Potter."
"I…I…" Harry stammered
"What? You're surprised?" Lockhart laughed some more.
Dumbledore appeared increasingly agitated with Lockhart's behavior. "Perhaps you should explain, Gilderoy."
"Right, of course. Please excuse me. I often forget that everyone is not as smart as I am. I was a Ravenclaw, you see." Lockhart flashed his dazzling smile. "I've known you're innocent since the first week after Mr. Creevey's attack."
"Wha…How?"
"You're not a Parselmouth," said Lockhart, as if he was stating the obvious. He then produced from inside his robes a small clear box. When Harry got a good look at it, he saw a miniature green snake coiled within.
"I've had little Lucille here with me for most of term. A friend of mine who happens to be a Parselmouth—who I'll leave nameless, as I'm sure you'll understand—gave her to me." Lockhart gave the box a little shake. The tiny snake hissed furiously and snapped its mouth at the glass near Lockhart's finger. "My friend told me she is the loudest, most foul-mouth, water snake they had ever met; especially when you do this." Lockhart shook the box and more loud hissing followed, which only made Lockhart chuckle more. "I haven't the foggiest what she's saying but I don't think it's particularly polite."
"Gilderoy, if you please." Dumbledore, once again, reminded Lockhart that this was a serious matter.
"Yes, of course, the point is, Mr. Potter, that I have shaken Lucille's box in the presence of every student, you most of all, and not one person has reacted to suddenly hearing what I can only imagine as a very colorful use of the Queen's English." Lockhart held out the box to Harry. "Can you understand what she's saying?"
Harry did not. "No, I can't."
"Because you are not a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." Lockhart pulled back Lucille and placed her back inside his robes. "Thank you, by the way, for your family history. It was unnecessary, of course, but it was an appreciated gesture."
Harry was beside himself. What in Merlin's name was going on?
"You look confused, Mr. Potter."
"Why…Why haven't you come out and said all this? Why have you allowed the Prophet and everyone to drag my name, my family's name, through the mud?"
"That's something I would like to know as well." Dumbledore added. By the looks of it, he also didn't know that Lockhart knew of Harry's innocence.
"I was trying to catch the Heir of Slytherin." Once again, Lockhart acted as if he was the singularly smartest person in the room.
"If you would explain yourself…again." Dumbledore no longer was interested in subtly.
"Do you know how the Gaunts were caught every time?" Lockhart asked rhetorically. "They told everyone they did it! They were proud of what they did! A family of serial murderers who desired fame and eternal glory. But then, fifty years ago, another Heir came to Hogwarts, but this one wasn't like their forefathers. He did not seek recognition and so, was never caught." Lockhart paused, his expression finally turned serious. "I had hoped that our current Heir took after the Gaunts of old and by allowing you, Mr. Potter, to be the center of attention, taking the credit for what they were doing, that it might push them into making a mistake."
"Alas, it seems, fame is not their motivation and, given tonight's events, that's because they are not an Heir of Slytherin." Lockhart paused again. "Ms. Chang is not a true Muggleborn. She's the daughter of one half-blood and one Muggleborn. Despite her mother's status, there is no way she would be on a true Heir's list."
Harry put aside the many choice words he had about Lockhart's plan and, instead, asked more burning questions. "Then what are they trying to do? Why open the Chamber of Secrets?"
"That, Mr. Potter, is why I asked you here."
Harry gave a quick glance to Dumbledore who merely shrugged, he didn't know where Lockhart was going with this either.
"The Parselmouth responsible is not interested in ridding the school of Muggleborns; instead, they want to be rid of you, Mr. Potter."
"What?"
"It is now my belief that these attacks have been attempts to frame you. You are the only connection Mr. Creevey and Ms. Chang have to each other and neither encounter make you out as very sane." Lockhart squared Harry up. "So, Mr. Potter, the question becomes: who would go to such great lengths to see you in chains?"
Harry didn't have an immediate answer. It wasn't like it was a question one hears every day. One name, though, did come to his mind but he wasn't sure how Lockhart would react. As the seconds passed and Harry hadn't spoken, Lockhart grew impatient.
"Anybody, Mr. Potter?"
Instead of Harry, Dumbledore answered. "You forget, Gilderoy, that Harry is only a child. I'm sure he is unaware of any sinister plots in play against him or his family. The Potters are, after all—"
"Are one of the most famous families in all of Britain, yes I know," Lockhart interrupted and turned back to Harry. "And yet, they have an absent Head of House, a 'child' as an Heir Apparent, and—oh yes!—the Chosen One. So, you're right, there could be an innumerable amount of people who would like to see young Mr. Potter here out of the way." Lockhart's tone made it sound like he was building to something. "But, please Headmaster, let's not pretend we all don't know who I'm talking about."
Harry turned to Dumbledore in shock. The Headmaster, though, didn't appear quite as surprised, more calculating, as if trying to assess just how much Lockhart knew and how much he should be told.
Lockhart displayed his pearly whites in a wide smile. "Before I came here, I only knew of Lord Malfoy by reputation. I had heard, though, that he has a rather low opinion of wizards in my line of work. That we are 'just as bad as the creatures we hunt.' As if protecting people at the risk of their own lives is a bad thing." He said with conviction, as if the money and fame he garnered didn't play a factor. "You can imagine my surprise then, when he lauded my abilities and put me in charge of this investigation. Odd, wouldn't you say? And when I told him I had you as a suspect, do know what he said, Mr. Potter?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Harry still shook his head.
Lockhart leaned over, stared Harry straight in the eyes, and spoke slowly and softly. "'Anything you need, Mr. Lockhart, anything you need.'"
Harry's mind was spinning, he had to do some quick thinking and came to a tough decision.
"Headmaster," he said, making eye contact. "I'm afraid that I must excuse myself and Daniel from Hogwarts."
"You can't!" Lockhart loudly interjected, lacking the bravado he had previously. "You are my only lead!" His plea sounded about preserving his chance for glory than preserving Harry's freedom.
"If what you say is true and someone, Lord Malfoy even, is trying to frame me, then why should I stay here. Who knows, the attacks might even stop if I'm not here."
"Or they don't." Lockhart countered. He took a deep breath and, for the first time, looked like he didn't have all the answers. "As we currently understand it, you are the only one connecting these attacks. And if it turns out that Lord Malfoy is not behind this, you might be our only chance of figuring out who is."
"And soon, I will no longer be here to help Professor Lockhart." Harry's eyes flashed wide to the Headmaster. "It is only a matter of time now before I am removed as Headmaster. Lord Malfoy made it clear that the Board of Governors would not accept another attack and, given Ms. Chang's blood status, I don't believe I'll make it to the end of the week."
Silence filled the room as they awaited Harry's answer. They didn't have to wait very long, though.
"I'll stay." Harry's conscious just wouldn't let him leave if there was something he could do. He still planned to send Danny home, though, he had a sinking suspicion that that was easier said than done.
"Excellent!" Lockhart exclaimed with a clap of his hands.
"We can't allow there to be suspicion that you'll be helping Professor Lockhart. The Board of Governors will not like that." Or rather, Lord Malfoy but Dumbledore didn't need to spell it out. "To the rest of the school, this meeting must appear as an interrogation and so…" Dumbledore paused briefly. "I must take your prefect badge."
Harry looked down at the badge on his chest. He didn't even remember that it was there. He unpinned it slowly and rose from his seat to place it on Dumbledore's desk. "Never wanted it anyway."
Harry could see a hint of disappointment in Dumbledore's face, but the Headmaster didn't voice it. "That will be all for tonight, Harry. Auror Hume is still downstairs and will take you back to your common room. Be safe."
"We'll talk again soon, Mr. Potter," said Lockhart, showing off his teeth yet again in a wide smile.
As Harry slowly walked down the steps, Lockhart's words played over and over in his mind. Could Lord Malfoy be behind this? Was the Minister involved, too? It was no secret that the two of them consulted closely and neither appreciated how Harry blocked their access to Daniel. Would they really go this far to push Harry out of the way?
So many questions and even fewer answers. It didn't exactly help that the few answers they did have seem to come from the one man whose motivations weren't exactly honorable. Harry was sure that Lockhart was more than capable and Harry hoped that he could help in some way. The thing that gave him pause, however, was the unmistakable hunger in the Defense Professor's eyes.
***If anyone has watched the TV show, Friends, Daphne's attempt to smile looks like Chandler Bing's. As seen here: 25 media tumblr com/tumblr_lslsc5DjnY1qh17feo2_250 gif (fill in blank spaces with '.')