September crept by, and Hogwarts marched on. A millennium of forlorn witches and self-styled dark lords had come and gone, and the castle proved to be an indifferent spectator: classes continued, NEWTs loomed, and excellent roasts were served on Sundays, all regardless of its students' personal tumults.
Daphne had gradually settled into a routine of sorts: conducting tests on the nirnroot on alternate weekdays, patrolling two nights a week, and catching up on shut-eye in arithmancy. She and Harry would sometimes exchange glances, but there had been no occasion outside of class for conversation, and Daphne felt uneasy about doing anything overt. Lord Slytherin's task still gnawed at her, but there had been no new developments from home, which in time had made it possible for her to regain some sense of normalcy.
By the time the first Hogsmeade weekend was announced, Daphne had almost forgotten what it was like to feel excited. And so it was that early on the second Saturday of October, Daphne set off on the windswept path to Hogsmeade with Astoria in tow, who cradled a scarf-swaddled Bertie in her arms like an infant. It was still a little early for snow, but the winter sun provided cold comfort, and Daphne had made sure that her sister was well-wrapped in several layers. While a warming charm would certainly have sufficed, the students left the castle so infrequently that it had become something of a tradition to dress up for Hogsmeade outings.
It was not that there was anything particular about the village that Daphne was looking forward to; it was barely a hamlet, and she had thoroughly explored every corner of the small handful of shops on High Street over several visits. That hardly mattered – Astoria was happy, which sufficed. It was a pleasant walk, and the sisters exchanged polite nods with housemates they passed on the way.
When they arrived, Hogsmeade seemed more quiet than usual – High Street was all but deserted, the shopfronts were dusted, and the chairs outside Madam Puddifoot's looked as though they had not been sat on for many months. Daphne was coldly reminded that Lord Slytherin's return had set the whole country on edge, and pulled Astoria into Honeydukes before she picked up on Daphne's disquiet.
As the morning crept on, more and more students ambled into town and the atmosphere began to lighten. By lunchtime, Hogsmeade was a hive of activity, and Daphne and Astoria had to wait in line for a table at Madam Puddifoot's (the dingy corner pub was no place for a fourteen-year-old). When they had been seated, Tracey invited herself to their table and Daphne cast a doubling charm on her teacup.
"Cold day," said Tracey as she flicked her wand. The teapot hovered into the air and began to pour.
"You barged in on our sisterly communion to discuss the weather?"
"Oh come off it Daffy, I just got here. Not a morning person."
"I take it you haven't eaten then," said Daphne, passing her the menu.
"What looks good, Tory? I wouldn't trust your sister's tastes."
Astoria began extolling the virtues of blackberry pancakes over waffles with ice cream, given that the latter was inappropriate for a wintry day, but Tracey countered by pointing out the presence of a large self-filling pot of hot tea between them. The point was conceded, but not before it was observed that fluffy pancakes were softer on parched lips than crispy waffles. Daphne smiled and zoned out of the conversation, leaning against her armrest and imagining the soon-to-come frostfall. Outside the window, she spotted a familiar matte of black hair pass by, accompanied by a patch of ginger and frizzles of auburn. Harry did not notice her, and she watched him for several moments until the trio turned the corner.
Well, at least nobody else has caught his eye. Daphne's thoughts had dwelled on Harry less frequently than in the days immediately after their towertop rendezvous, not least because there had been no progress whatsoever in their relationship – if it could even be called that. Yet neither had the strength of her… curiosity about him diminished. She was not infatuated (not that she would admit it even if she was), but she was nonetheless intrigued by the could-be's and the could-have's.
"Well, Daffy?"
"Yes?"
"We've agreed to disagree," said Astoria. "Pancakes royale or bread pudding?"
"Let's just get one of everything and be done with it – even the waffles. You'd have the appetite for it, now that you've spent the past ten minutes bickering."
"Ever the gourmet," said Tracey.
"You can thank me later," Daphne replied. Truthfully, she was craving something sweet for a change, and was almost tempted to commit the heresy of adding sugar to her tea. Their lunch appeared just in time, and Astoria began piling waffles onto her plate. "Slowly now, Mrs. Goyle," said Daphne, "you know what Father thinks about having dessert for lunch." A wide grin appeared on Tracey's face, but Astoria shot her sister a vicious look.
It was, Daphne had to admit, the best meal she had in recent memory. Something about being in a high-ceiling tearoom with twenty gaudy pink armchairs in front of a bright fire made it difficult to sustain the many worries at the back of her mind. At some point Bertie became bored of swatting the ribbons and curtains and came to perch on Astoria's lap, who cooed over him and fed him the remaining crumbs of waffle.
After a long lunch, Tracey left them to do some early shopping for Christmas presents. Daphne went into Dogweed and Deathcap with Astoria, who was so pancake-stuffed as to be acquiescent despite her complete disinterest in herbology. The village apothecary stocked little of particular interest, but periodically bought from the Greengrasses, and Daphne felt duty-bound to stop by. Astoria idly watched Bertie chase butterflies in the back garden while Daphne made polite conversation with the proprietor, a stout old woman named Arcadia Dogweed who ran the shop more out of habit than need. Despite her years, Arcadia had no insights to share about nirnroot when asked, and Daphne was happy to discuss what little she had learnt in the past month of study. Before leaving, Daphne bought a small satchel of common potion ingredients.
They made quick stops at Scrivenshaft's and Gladrags, and popped into Honeydukes again to buy more cat treats upon Astoria's insistence. Eventually the sky began to darken, and Daphne and Astoria joined the steady stream of students heading back to the castle. On the outskirts of town, Bertie suddenly hissed and leapt from Astoria's arms, bounding off across the grass.
"Bertie! What are you –"
There was a loud shriek from up ahead, followed by cries for help.
"Stay with me, Tory," Daphne said, and drew her wand. They jogged ahead, and came to a small circle of sixth-years surrounding a girl who lay senseless on the ground, whom Daphne recognised as a Gryffindor quidditch player. A Hufflepuff named Leanne was kneeling beside her, distraught. "What happened here?" asked Daphne, "Don't panic – you know I'm a prefect. Tell me what happened!"
"She floated into the air – not flew, just sort of floated," said one of the sixth-years, "and then she –"
"It's the necklace!" shouted Leanne. "I told her not to touch it! It's the necklace in the package!"
"What necklace?"
"Over there, beside the cat. I told everyone not to touch it." Bertie was crouched a short distance beside a black necklace on the ground, baring his teeth and making sure no one got close.
"Alright, good. Everyone stay back," said Daphne, getting down on one knee beside the unconscious girl. She had clearly been cursed. "You said she touched the necklace – with her gloves on?"
"Yes, do you think it got to Katie through her gloves?"
"Only one way to find out – evanesco! Evanesco!" Katie's gloves vanished, revealing a left hand that was rapidly turning green.
"What's happening?" called a familiar voice from behind, and Daphne could see a small crowd beginning to gather. "Good timing, Granger. Katie's been cursed. We need to get her back to the castle."
"Shall I levitate her?"
"No, we shouldn't use magic – we don't know how it'll react with the curse."
"We should call a Professor then."
"I'll go," said Harry, and he began sprinting to the castle with Weasley in tow, briefly turning to acknowledge Daphne.
By now there was a flurry. Ernie Macmillan arrived, and offered to get the younger students back to the castle. "Yes, good idea. I think we should get everyone back. Including those still at the village," said Daphne. Ernie looked about as though he wanted to protest, but upon seeing Hermione's grave look, began delegating the older students to spread the news.
"Should we do something? To contain the curse?" asked Hermione.
"No, I'm scared that whatever we try to do will only make it worse. But if it spreads… yes, we should try something. Nothing too risky." Daphne unwrapped her satchel – "Accio bleeding crown! Accio tundra cotton! Merlin, we don't have time to brew a proper potion."
"A basic one is better than nothing," said Granger. "Does anyone here have a container? Everyone check your shopping, maybe you just bought a cauldron?" Someone in the crowd produced one, and the girls got to work immediately. "Aguamenti. Accio twigs! Incendio!"
"Can we help?" Astoria asked, and there was a chorus of agreement.
"Use whatever you can find, your bare hands if you must, break these up into small pieces," said Daphne, passing around the bleeding crowns. Several students came forward and each took several of the red-capped mushrooms. "Granger, how's the temperature?"
"Still far too cold."
"It's not ideal, but I'll add fire salts," said Daphne, reaching for her satchel. Within moments the water was steaming. She pulled the tundra cotton out by the stems and added the tufts into the cauldron. Hermione stirred the mixture, and instructed the crowd of volunteers to add diced bleeding crown intermittently. The potion turned rosy, and Daphne cast a cooling charm and gently tipped half of it into Katie's mouth, and poured the other half onto her cursed hand. "I think that's all we can do for now. The rest of you should head back to the castle. Stay together."
Daphne and Hermione stayed beside Katie, making sure she was breathing, and Astoria and Bertie guarded the necklace to make sure nobody got close. The Headmaster soon arrived with an entourage of professors. He surveyed the group, and Daphne noticed for the first time just how intently his eyes seemed to sparkle with magic.
"You've all done very well," said Professor Dumbledore, "but may I suggest that you all accompany Professor Hagrid and Miss Bell back to Hogwarts immediately." Professor Hagrid scooped up Katie in his burly arms, while the remaining professors continued into Hogsmeade to gather the students. Daphne pulled Astoria into a tight hug, and saw Professor Dumbledore bent over the necklace. "Let's go back, Tory."
The Great Hall was on edge that evening. Professor Dumbledore gave a short address, confirming that a student had indeed suffered a "magical injury" at Hogsmeade, but was now in the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey. Daphne and Hermione were commended, and it was also announced that all the students who had stayed to help had earned twenty points each. There was a muted smattering of applause, which Daphne felt was appropriate given the graveness of the situation.
After dinner, Daphne stayed with Astoria for a while and put her to bed. Astoria was young, but was discerning enough to know that something insidious was afoot. After comforting her sister as best as she could, Daphne returned to the Great Hall. She was exhausted, but there was too much on her mind, so she had volunteered for patrol with Draco to gather her thoughts. It was an unspoken agreement between them that they would go their separate ways whenever they patrolled together, only meeting at the beginning and end of their shift.
That night the castle felt cold and dark. As Daphne made her rounds, she was ill at ease despite her familiarity with every painting and every corridor. She comforted herself with the thought that she and Hermione had made an excellent team, and had probably saved Katie's life – they would find out once the exact nature of Katie's curse was ascertained, and Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey were working tirelessly to that end.
But no matter how she thought about it, the incident was tremendously distressing. Daphne did not know Katie well, partly because she was unremarkable beyond the fact that she played for Gryffindor – why, then, would she have any enemies, especially one who would resort to such dark curses? It was yet another mystery that Daphne could not unravel, beyond whatever Draco was up to. As for Draco, Daphne suddenly realised how odd it was that he had elected not to go to Hogsmeade. Obviously that meant he was far from the scene of the incident, though perhaps that was the point… regardless, it was a tenuous connection at best.
Whatever the source of Katie's curse, the inescapable truth was that Hogwarts was no longer safe. Daphne slept little that night.