Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 13
Harry hid the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak in his bag as eight o'clock was slowly approaching. The Boys' Dormitory was empty; some of his peers were catching up with their homework to make the regular school week somewhat easier for themselves, while others were undoubtedly enjoying the weekend.
He had no idea how he managed to keep up with his schoolwork combined with the stress of the Tournament. The memory of his grade for the Potions assignment still managed to bring a smile to his face, even if a few days have passed already. Harry had no doubts that if he brewed the Sleeping Draught on his own, following the instructions to the letter, Snape would eventually find a way to lower his grade. He had to thank Professor Dumbledore for forcing the Houses to cooperate. At least his grades improved.
Harry's grin widened as he recalled the recent Charms Class. Since their first year, Professor Flitwick liked to do 'small exams' after introducing them to a new spell, which was supposed to check the students' fluency with the charm and prepare them for the final exams. The one they wrote recently was about the Summoning Charm. Once again, thanks to Daphne and her persistence in teaching him the Accio Spell, Harry managed to get the highest grade possible. He doubted he would have found that exam to be so easy if he didn't study that spell through and through before the First Task.
He pocketed a handful of Galleons in his jeans, making a mental note to thank the Slytherin Girl for her help. It still baffled him a little that she wanted to spend so much time with him. Daphne's explanation during their first encounter in the Chamber of Secrets was… odd, to say the least. However, Harry couldn't deny that it was nice to have someone to talk to, even despite her cold attitude most of the time and her not-so-subtle comments about his performance in classes. Still, it was much different than Hermione's constant reprimanding that he was slacking off. Daphne's comments, while often brutally honest, weren't filled with disappointment but were a mere statement of a fact.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he muttered after pulling out the Marauder's Map, and making sure that he was alone. He flipped a few pages, searching for lower floors, wanting to make sure that the incident from a week prior wouldn't happen again. It took him some time, but he finally managed to locate the dot with Daphne's name in the Dungeons. She was still in the Slytherin Common Room, accompanied by Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis, and Astoria Greengrass. Upon seeing her sister's name, Harry scanned the area around them, searching for Madam Pomfrey or Professor Sprout; Snape was in his own office in the Dungeons, so his relatively close proximity was no indication that something was wrong.
The two other staff members weren't anywhere in the Dungeons, though, and it didn't take long for him to see the dot with Daphne's name above it moving through the Common Room towards the exit. Harry quickly folded the Map and hid it back in his bag before leaving the Dormitory. It wouldn't be good if he were late for the meeting he arranged.
The Gryffindor Common Room was relatively empty. A few students from younger years were sitting at the tables, finishing their homework or playing chess. The wood in the fireplace, as always, was burning, illuminating the Common Room with pleasant, orange light and providing warmth. Through the window, Harry could see the snow falling lazily to the ground below. In his mind, he thanked his father and his friends for finding the secret passage that led to Hogsmeade. Treading through the snow wasn't on top of his to-do list.
"Harry!" a voice called after him as he made his way towards the Fat Lady's Portrait. As if struck by a Petrifying Spell, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. A dull pain spread in his chest as his mind momentarily recognized the person to whom that voice belonged. He gulped slightly before turning around.
"Hermione," he muttered, looking at the couch hidden from his point of view on top of the stairs. The bushy-haired witch was sitting there with a book on her lap and Ron next to her. Her hands were fidgeting slightly on top of the pages, and various emotions were written all over her face; a mixture of guilt, sadness, and uncertainty was flashing in her brown eyes.
"Can we talk?" she pleaded in a barely audible whisper. Ron pursed his lips, averting Harry's gaze; his leg was moving up and down in rapid movements, indicating his nervousness as well.
Harry breathed in deeply. "About?"
"Everything, I guess," Hermione answered, looking at the fireplace. "We… we didn't have much opportunity to talk recently," she whispered, moving her gaze back at his face. Harry shifted his weight from one leg to another.
"You don't say," he commented, still standing in the middle of the Common Room. "You lost the badge somewhere?" Harry asked before he could stop his mouth from moving, looking at Ron. The youngest of the Weasley brothers at least had the decency to blush.
"Harry," Hermione whimpered, standing up from the couch. The young boy glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. "We wanted to… Ron and I were thinking that…" It wasn't usual to see Hermione as nervous as she was at that moment. Ever since he met her over three years earlier, the young witch had no problems voicing her thoughts. She ignored me for a month, Harry reminded himself as the dull pain in his chest intensified. She only acknowledged my existence when she saw me studying with Daphne. "I'm sorry," she finally whispered, taking a hesitant step toward him. Ron stood up from the couch as well, standing behind Hermione
"So am I," he replied, once again shifting his weight. A small trace of hope flickered in her brown eyes before her mind registered the cold tone in which he said those words. Harry's heartbeat quickened slightly upon seeing the broken expression on her face. "Is there something else? I'm kind of in a hurry."
"Where are you going?" Ron asked, speaking for the first time. Harry's teeth clenched involuntarily. Hermione's behavior, while still impossible for him to understand, wasn't nearly as bad as Ron's.
"To plot my next great scheme on gaining the eternal glory," he replied coldly.
"Harry," Hermione whimpered again, grabbing his arm. When did she get so close to me? He asked himself before removing his hand from her grasp. "I really meant that. I'm sorry," she repeated.
"And I really meant what I've said as well: so am I," Harry countered, taking a step backward.
"Harry, please, you must understand that-"
"What?" he cut her off. "What is there to understand? You haven't said a word to me for a month, Hermione. A month! And that thing over the lake certainly doesn't count. You couldn't even look me in the eyes back then, so what is there to understand?"
"Harry, mate," Ron started, taking a step forward as well. "We've told you about the dragons," he muttered, earning himself a scoff from Harry. "I thought that you would… you know, figure that out. I didn't mean to-"
"What, wear the badge?" Harry cut him off. "I'm actually surprised that you and Malfoy haven't become the best buddies on Potions, to be honest. It looks like you might have something to talk about now."
"How can you say that?" Ron asked, stumbling backward as if he was slapped. "It wasn't just me who wore that badge. Almost everyone was, and many people were talking behind your back as well."
"Including you two," Harry more stated than asked. "I don't care who talks behind my back, but I'll never understand how you two joined them."
"Because I'm terrified!" Hermione yelled suddenly, running her hand through her hair. The sudden loud sound gathered the attention of the other students who, until that moment, tried to be discreet with their eavesdropping. The fallout between Harry, Ron, and Hermione was one of the most discussed topics in the Gryffindor Tower, and seeing the three former best friends talking again easily distracted the other students from their homework. Harry watched as Hermione waved her wand and muttered something under her nose, glaring at the other Lions. "They won't be listening now," she commented before turning her attention back to Harry. "I'm terrified," Hermione repeated; the light from the fireplace illuminated the tears that started forming in her eyes. "First, you have those strange dreams about V-Voldemort," she struggled with the name for a split second. "Then there was that attack after the World Cup," Hermione continued as a single tear ran down her cheek. She took in a deep breath to calm her nerves. "And then, your name came out from the Goblet. Add to that everything that happened here since we first arrived, and… and it became too much for me," she muttered. "I'm just scared, Harry."
"And you think I'm not?" he asked, slowly shaking his head. He could feel his own eyes watering. "You think I wasn't afraid when I was waiting in that tent for what could have been my death? You think those nightmares don't scare me as well?" he continued, running his hand through his messy hair. "They haven't stopped since summer if you want to know. With each week, they're just becoming worse. And do you really think I wasn't terrified when I faced the supposedly dead man twice? Or the Basilisk?"
"I know," Hermione replied, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "But you have to see it from my point of view as well," she pleaded. "All those years ago, the Death Eaters targeted Muggle-borns and their families. I thought that it was something that remained in the past, but then those attacks during our second year happened…" she trailed off, furiously wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. "And now, the Death Eaters have returned, and I just… I'm afraid of what will happen to me. Or my parents."
"Voldemort never came for you when you were a baby," Harry countered slowly. Hermione twitched slightly upon hearing the Dark Lord's name, and Ron shuddered visibly. "He didn't murder your parents just to get you. You didn't fight against him in our first and second year."
"You're right. We haven't," Hermione agreed. "I know that you have every right to be more scared than I, but… I didn't have the easiest time at Hogwarts either. When those attacks in our second year started happening, and it turned out that you're a Parselmouth and you were hearing that voice, I…" she trailed off again, shifting her weight from one leg to another once more. Harry felt the blood leaving his face as he recalled one of his conversations with Daphne.
"You believed that I was behind those attacks," he stated. There was no point in asking about that – it was written all over Hermione's face. Her lower lip trembled as she looked pleadingly at him. Harry scoffed again, running his hand through his hair. "Please, tell me you're joking or that I'm imagining things," he said; his voice failed him slightly, and his words came out in a whimper. "After everything we've been through, you actually believed that I was behind that?"
"None of us had seen V-Voldemort when you faced him, Harry," Hermione said in self-defense. "I didn't want to believe that, I really didn't, but you can't blame me when all I've heard around us was how you were the next Dark Lord and that you were always there when the attacks have happened."
"Guess I can't blame you now for believing that I've cheated my way into the Tournament," Harry commented; the dull pain in his chest intensified even more as he kept looking at his former best friends. "You can stop worrying then. I'll even make it easy for you."
Before either Ron or Hermione could ask what he meant, Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, wrapping himself tightly with it, shocking the other students who were still observing the confrontation even though they couldn't hear anything. With quick steps, Harry left the Common Room and ducked behind the corner.
As he expected, Ron and Hermione ran after him, shouting his name in a futile attempt to find him. He watched as they sprinted out of the Gryffindor Tower, looking frantically around the corridor for any sign of him. He pressed his back further against the wall to minimalize the chance of them running into him.
"I'll search for him on the Map," Ron announced, running back into the Common Room, leaving Hermione in the corridor. She nodded her head as she continued looking around frantically. Some of their Housemates, who were returning to the Tower, looked at her with astonishment. After checking his watch, Harry pushed himself away from the wall. He was already ten minutes late, and it would take him some time to reach the third floor. The sounds made by the students returning to the Gryffindor Tower were able to make the echo of his footsteps inaudible.
The path down to the third floor was uneventful. Hermione's and Ron's shouts faded away due to the distance, and Harry was able to run through the remaining distance. Even though he was already late, he didn't want to repeat the scenario from a week earlier. He still remembered the dull pain in his chest when Daphne didn't show up, and for a split second, he wondered if she was filling similarly at that moment.
He couldn't stop the smile from stretching his lips as he noticed the blond Slytherin standing nearby the One-eyed Witch statue. Daphne was holding a book in her hands, and her head moved from side to side occasionally as she scanned both ends of the corridor. After making sure nobody else was around, Harry removed the Cloak from his head.
"Sorry for being late," he said quickly, standing a few meters away from Daphne. He barely held a chuckle as he noticed her almost jumping in her spot; her eyes widened as she stared at his head. "I was… held up," he explained, revealing the rest of his body. Daphne's eyes instantly moved to the gleaming material in his hand.
"It's rude to make a girl wait, Potter," she finally said, hiding her book in the school bag hanging on her shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, you wanted to pay me back for the last Saturday." Harry smiled sheepishly at her and scratched the back of his head.
"Sorry, I really wanted to be here on time, but Ron and Hermione stopped me in the Common Room."
"What did they want?"
"Doesn't matter," he replied, shaking his head. "I've promised I would take you to Hogsmeade, haven't I?" Daphne simply nodded. "Come on then," he said, moving towards the Statue.
"In case you've forgotten, the exit from the Castle is that way," she said, pointing her finger in the direction from which he had just come. Harry chuckled at that.
"And you think there won't be questions asked if we're caught exiting through the main door?" he asked. "Dissendium," he muttered, tapping the Statue's hump with his wand. Daphne's eyes widened as the stone hump moved aside, revealing a hole. From what she could see, it led downwards, similarly to the hole under the sink on the second floor, though that one was much thinner. "Ladies first?" Harry asked, once again scratching the back of his head as he pointed at the hole with his other hand.
"After you," she replied. Harry shook his head before complying. Daphne's eyes widened even more as she saw him disappearing into the hole.
"Your turn!" he called after her. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, Daphne followed Harry. The descent was short, and she quickly landed on a stone floor. She looked upward, only to see the hump moving back to its original spot.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that doesn't look like Hogsmeade to me," Daphne commented. The area around her was illuminated with a dim light from Harry's wand, allowing her to make out that it was a corridor. Harry chuckled slightly.
"No, it's not, but this tunnel will take us there," he replied.
"And how did you learn about its existence?" Daphne couldn't stop herself from asking.
"Thanks to this," Harry informed her, raising the Map he was holding in his hand. "This tunnel will take us straight to the cellar of Honeydukes. Trust me. I've checked this out in the previous year."
Choosing to believe his words, Daphne soon found herself following the young boy. A bright light was shining on the tip of her wand as well, as she kept looking around, hoping to find anything interesting. However, her efforts turned out to be in vain, though. The tunnel was a simple corridor, seemingly dug in the stone if the walls' imperfections were anything to go by.
The walk was uneventful and long, though it wasn't nearly as long as Daphne suspected it to be after realizing they were supposed to reach Hogsmeade on foot. Harry was occupied with checking the Map every now and then, so they walked mostly in silence.
"We're here," he announced after some time, staring at the spot above his head. Daphne raised her head as well, only to notice that the stone was replaced with a wooden trapdoor. Harry stood on his toes and carefully lifted the planks. He looked around as much as he could before fully opening the entrance and leaving the tunnel. Daphne gladly accepted his outstretched hand, and he pulled her upwards.
As Harry was closing the trapdoor, careful not to make a sound, Daphne allowed herself to look around. Truthfully to his words, they found themselves in the cellar of Honeydukes if the supplies in the boxes were any indication. She could clearly see various sweets and treats on the shelves around her. One thing especially managed to catch her attention, and Daphne soon found herself walking towards a pile of Sugar Quills.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered; the confusion was clearly noticeable in his voice as he stared at the Slytherin girl who was hiding a few of the Sugar Quills in her bag. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Nothing," she replied, popping one into her mouth.
"Did you just-?"
"Of course not," Daphne cut him off, placing a single gold coin on the shelf where the Quills used to be. "That will be more than enough to cover it," she said to no one in particular. Harry barely managed to hold back a chuckle.
"Come on, I don't think you want us to be caught, right?" he asked her, holding his Invisibility Cloak in his hands. Daphne shook her head, gently sucking at the Sugar Quill. "Then come here, it's not big enough to give us much space, but it should be able to hide us," he said, throwing the Cloak over both of their heads.
"First that Map, now an Invisibility Cloak," Daphne commented as they started making their way up the stairs. "Are you going to tell me next that you have a Flying Carpet hidden somewhere in the Gryffindor Tower?"
"First, no, I don't have one. And second, don't talk right now, or the owner will hear us," he whispered, leading the way towards the door. Careful to make as little sound as possible, Harry opened the door, and both students snuck into Honeydukes' interior. Harry mumbled a quiet 'thanks' to no one in particular when he noticed that the shop was fairly crowded, even at such a late hour. They managed to leave Honeydukes without attracting anyone's attention. Once outside, Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak.
"Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked as his stomach let out a loud rumble. Daphne agreed, nodding her head.
"I've also missed out on dinner tonight, so yes," she said, pulling a hood of her robes on her head to prevent snow from gathering in her hair. Harry mimicked her movements and trembled slightly, already feeling the chill of the winter penetrating his clothes.
Once inside the Three Broomsticks, Harry and Daphne quickly managed to find themselves an unoccupied table in the corner on the first floor. Some of Hogsmeade's villagers were present at the pub, but apparently, a pair of students sneaking out of Hogwarts in the evening wasn't anything unheard of, as no one paid them much attention.
"To Harry Potter, then – the Dragon-Slayer," Daphne spoke, raising her bottle of butterbeer. A tray with six bottles was placed on their table as they waited for the food. Harry blushed slightly, suddenly finding something very interesting on the label of his beverage. He nibbled at the edge, attempting to rip it off completely.
"It was an accident," Harry said in self-defense. "I didn't want to kill that Horntail. I just wanted it not to kill me," he added, chuckling nervously. He still could remember how nervous he was when Charlie Weasley approached him in the Great Hall and informed him about the dragon's fate. For a few moments, Harry was certain that he would be forced to answer for his deeds, but Ron's brother quickly eased his worries. Apparently, the only real difficulty would be on his side as he would have to explain to his superiors why only three dragons returned to Romania instead of four. Still, it was their oversight that the Hungarian Horntail managed to break the chain.
"Accident or not, not many wizards can say that they've killed a fully grown dragon," Daphne countered, sipping her butterbeer. "Especially wizards our age. Has Weasley talked to you about the spoils you can claim now?"
"Yeah, he mentioned something, but he also said that it would take time to turn the dragon's carcass into anything valuable," Harry replied, taking a few gulps from his bottle. "I honestly had no idea that such a law existed in the first place. I mean, I know that the Muggles had similar laws about the hunts, but they were abolished decades ago. I didn't even know that wizards had something like that as well."
"I've figured that out thanks to the Basilisk corpse still in the Chamber," Daphne commented, nodding her head a couple of times. "You could have, and, if I'm not mistaken, you still can claim that as well. Some of that stuff can still be harvested."
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to get into that," he replied; Daphne raised one of her eyebrows in a silent question. "I mean, I don't know what I could do with that in the first place. Besides, I don't want to attract attention to myself."
"Then you're failing spectacularly at that every year," she replied, earning herself a chuckle from Harry.
"Okay, let me rephrase that: I'm trying not to attract too much attention to myself. Okay, I'm failing at that as well," he added with a chuckle upon seeing her raised eyebrow.
"Why?" Daphne queried, moving a single strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, with your already existing fame as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' you could move very high in our world, especially if your achievements would become public knowledge. I know for a fact that many others would jump at the opportunity if they were in your shoes."
"I don't want that," Harry countered, shaking his head even before she stopped talking. "I don't want fame or anything like that. Ever since I first entered the Wizarding World, people have been praising me for something that I have no memory of doing. I already have more than enough of this." He swallowed a large lump that appeared in his throat. And it was my parents' sacrifice that has done the job, he added in his mind, afraid to say those words loudly. He had no idea how many people were aware of what truly had happened all those years earlier.
"I'd say that it's one more reason to make a name for yourself with your own deeds," Daphne commented, stirring her butterbeer in a similar manner as pumpkin juice. "I mean, if you managed to provide enough proof that you have indeed killed that Basilisk, you could be known as the 'Beast-Slayer' or something like that," she explained with a hint of amusement in her voice. Harry snorted at that.
"Then I would fit in the common Slytherin narrative that I'm an attention-seeking git," he commented, chuckling again.
"Perhaps," Daphne somewhat agreed, hiding her amusement behind the bottle of butterbeer.
"If we're doing toasts, then to Daphne Greengrass as well," Harry said, mimicking the Slytherin's previous action. "The Girl-Who-Helped-To-Slay-A-Dragon," he added, taking another gulp from his bottle. Both of Daphne's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.
"I have done little to nothing," she protested, nevertheless taking a sip of her beverage as well. "I've only suggested you summon the broom, nothing more."
"Still, if it wasn't for your suggestion, I might have not been able to defend myself against that Horntail," Harry countered swiftly. "So, my victory is in no small thanks to you."
"Are you going to be repeating it until the rest of our time at Hogwarts?"
"Possibly," Harry replied with a wide grin. "Or at least until I get over the fact that I've actually managed to survive the First Task."
Their conversation was stopped at that moment as their food was delivered to their table. Harry's stomach let out an approving growl at the sight of his plate. While Hogwarts cuisine was limited to mostly British food, Three Broomsticks had no such boundaries. And so, Harry was more than eager to order himself a large burger with fries; pumpkin juice was the most obvious choice for a drink. He felt his mouth watering as the waitress placed both plates on their table. Daphne has ordered pasta with chicken and basil sauce, choosing to stay with the butterbeer during the meal.
"I won't even try to understand how you're able to open your mouth so wide," she commented after a few minutes of eating in silence. Having disregarded the cutlery before he started eating, Harry blushed slightly, placing the half-devoured burger back on his plate.
"It's not that difficult, actually," he replied after swallowing the last bite he took. "If you squeeze it at the top and the bottom at the same time, it becomes flat enough to bite it," he explained.
"Still, it's a little… gross to see anyone eating without cutlery," Daphne commented, taking a sip from her bottle.
"It would be much worse if I used a fork and knife for this. Trust me," Harry countered swiftly, picking up the remaining half of his burger. "I mean, the contents would be all over the plate and possibly on the table as well."
"If you say so," Daphne replied. "There's something I wanted to ask you," she said after a few more minutes of eating in silence. Having his mouth full yet again, Harry raised his eyebrow, indicating for her to continue. "It's about what you've told me about that Map of yours and the people that have created it."
"What about it?" Harry asked, frowning slightly at her words.
"It's actually more about the way you said the names of your father's friends," Daphne continued, carefully choosing her words; Harry's frown deepened. "There's simply something that doesn't add up for me. You've talked about your father, Professor Lupin, and Sirius Black in the same manner – with affection, but your tone changed when you've said the last name – Peter Pettigrew," she explained, quickly noticing various emotions passing through Harry's face; the most dominant one was anger. "Your voice was hard, and it lacked its previous affection and that's what doesn't add up for me. I mean, shouldn't it be reversed? Shouldn't you have spoken with anger about Black and not Pettigrew? After all, it's a commonly known fact that Black betrayed your parents."
"Just as it's a commonly known fact that I've cheated my way into the Tournament," Harry countered slowly, looking at the pile of fries on his plate. He picked one up and placed it in his mouth. "Or, at least for a while, it was commonly known that I was responsible for the attacks in our second year," he added, once again filling the dull pain in his chest as before. Hermione believed it.
Daphne raised both of her eyebrows. "You don't believe it," she more stated than asked. The lack of any reaction was all the confirmation she needed. "Why?"
"And why do you believe I haven't placed my name in the Goblet?" Harry countered with a question of his own.
"Because the evidence indicated your innocence," she replied simply.
"Exactly."
"So," Daphne began, analyzing Harry's response. "You have evidence that might suggest that Black is, in fact, innocent?"
"Not exactly," he replied, shaking his head. "But I… I've seen them," he added, wondering how much he could actually tell her.
"Care to explain?"
"And would you tell me what happened to your sister a week ago?"
"No."
"Then you have your answer," Harry replied, crossing his hands over his chest; Daphne's eyes were practically digging holes in his skull as if she attempted to rip the answers from his mind. Harry challenged her glare with his own look of indifference. "I'm actually surprised that that's what you wanted to know about the Marauder's Map," he said after a few minutes of sitting and staring at each other in silence. "I'm even more surprised that it hasn't been confiscated from me yet," he added with a small grin.
"I'm still considering telling Professor Snape about it," Daphne replied immediately, stirring the bottle of her butterbeer. "The fact that you have an Invisibility Cloak as well only persuades me further to do that."
Daphne expected many reactions to her words, but a chuckle wasn't anywhere near the top of the list. And yet, that's what Harry did – he chuckled; his body was shaking slightly.
"I have to disappoint you then," he said after a while. "Snape has already seen this Map but was unable to read it. It can only be activated with a specific spell," he clarified.
"I promise that I'm going to do something stupid," Daphne spoke, earning herself yet another chuckle from Harry.
"Not exactly," Harry countered, sipping his butterbeer and eating a few fries. Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Did you have the Accio Spell exam already?" Harry continued, swiftly changing the topic before she could say anything else about the Map.
"Yes," Daphne replied simply, reluctantly agreeing to shift the conversation to another subject. I'll let him enjoy it for a while, she commented in her mind; the left corner of her lips twitched upwards slightly, though it went unnoticed by the Gryffindor boy.
"What did you get?" Harry asked; a wide grin was plastered all over his face.
"'O,' what else?" was her simple response. Harry's smile widened even more, even though he easily recognized the tone that meant 'what else did you expect?'
"I've got an 'O' as well," he informed her. Daphne nodded her head. "With extra credit," he added after a few seconds. The hand in which she was holding her butterbeer halted midair as her mind processed the information and her eyes dug holes in Harry's skull.
"How?"
"Well, Professor Flitwick was torn between an 'O' with extra credit and 'T' because, apparently, I've forgotten the most important part of the spell," Harry said; his grin never left his face. "I didn't say the incantation," he clarified as Daphne continued staring at him. The Slytherin girl placed the bottle on the table with so much strength that Harry wondered for a split second how hadn't it shattered. "So, your lessons weren't one hundred percent accurate."
"Explain," she seethed through gritted teeth. Daphne couldn't decide what angered her the most: the fact that Potter performed the spell she taught him nonverbally, that he got a better score on the test, or that lazy grin of his.
"Well, you've said that the intonation of the incantation of the spell affects its outcome," Harry said, not noticing or choosing not to notice, the angry glare pointed at him. "So, if that was the case, I should have been unable to perform it without saying the incantation aloud."
"What I've told you in the Chamber was only partially true, and it mostly concerns only students," Daphne spoke slowly. "The main strength behind the magic is one's intent, as you had undoubtedly noticed during the First Task when you conjured that water shield. A spoken incantation serves only as a guideline for your mind to specify what you intend to do," she explained easily.
"I don't think I fully understand," Harry countered, shaking his head.
"How would you explain magic to a Muggle, Potter?"
"I… I don't know," he admitted after a few moments of thinking about her question. "It's just too… magical to explain," he added, failing to find a better word to describe his thoughts.
"Exactly," Daphne agreed. "Magic is a concept that can't be fully understood by a human mind. If it could, it would be science and not magic. The spells we learn, while useful, are just a tiny fracture of a true wonder that surrounds us. Long ago, the first wizards were able to do incredible things using only their thoughts and their intent – there were no spells or charms, and there were certainly no wands that could help them. With time, as more and more people began slowly understanding what magic is and how it works, they started creating spells as we know them today. If you chose Arithmancy, you would have known that. The first wizards realized that there were things they were doing repetitively, and so they figured out that they could be simplified and categorized. That led to the development of simple spells and charms that soon turned into more complicated things. But, as I've said, in the beginning, there were no incantations and no wands. These are but mere tools that we use today that help us use magic, but a true wizard can do well without either of them."
"Huh," Harry commented, trying to process the entire information he has been given.
"In fact, I would dare to say that the intention is much more important than a simple incantation," Daphne continued, ignoring the lost look in Harry's eyes. "You've proven that when you faced the dragon. You said 'Aquamenti,' but your mind screamed for protection. Deep inside, you knew that what you needed was a shield, and you managed to bend the magic to your will, doing something you haven't even thought of trying. It might be a little farfetched, but I think that even if you cast a Killing Curse at someone, but your heart wasn't in it, you could simply tickle that person, nothing more."
"It sort of ruins the whole point of learning new spells," Harry commented, slowly nodding his head.
"Maybe, but not exactly," Daphne protested. "It allows you to get a basic understanding of what magic truly is. Or, at least, what we believe it to be," she explained upon noticing his puzzled expression. "Since we're already at this topic, there is something that keeps bothering me."
"Go ahead."
"I've shared Charms with you in our second and third year, and we still have DADA together. You have always been somewhat of a prodigy in these subjects, so I can't understand why it's different at Transfiguration."
"I don't know," Harry replied, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, what we learn at Charms and DADA is much more simple, in my opinion. I know what I want to do, and I know how a spell can do it."
"It's exactly the same at Transfiguration," Daphne commented. "And it's something that better reflects what I've said earlier: magic is first and foremost about one's intent. The spells we learn are just tools that help us achieve our goals. It's only your mind and heart that will dictate the outcome of the spell."
"I… I never thought about that," Harry admitted, staring absentmindedly at his empty plate. Somehow, Daphne's words, while still not completely understandable to him, made much more sense than anything he had read in textbooks. "Hermione has never explained it like that."
"Is Granger the reason you were late?" she queried; Harry's expression was all the answer she needed. "What happened?"
"Doesn't matter," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's… it's complicated."
"I think I might be able to understand."
"I don't want to talk about this," Harry countered, once again shaking his head. "Have you heard what Professor Moody has done to Malfoy before the First Task?" he asked after a moment, once again changing the topic.
Daphne slowly nodded her head. "I've heard rumors, though each one contradicts the other," she replied. Once again, she made a mental note to press the previous topic further on a different occasion.
"Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret," Harry said, unable to contain a large grin that once again found its way onto his lips. Daphne raised her eyebrow. "A literal ferret."
"You were there?"
"Yeah, I've seen the whole thing," he said through a chuckle. "You should have seen that. I swear that his fur matched his hair perfectly. Professor Moody then started levitating him up and down before placing him in Crabbe's pants," he said, chuckling once again; Daphne's lips twitched upwards involuntarily. "Goyle tried to remove him, but Malfoy bit his finger. I swear, I was sure for a moment that Malfoy was going to end up somewhere deeper than Crabbe's pants, and-"
Whatever he wanted to say further was stopped by a strange sound that made its way out of Daphne's mouth, as well as a few droplets of butterbeer that she kept sipping while Harry was talking. The Gryffindor's eyebrows shot upward as he stared at his companion, not sure if his eyes and ears worked properly. If a slight pink color on Daphne's cheeks was any indication, his mind correctly registered her reaction.
"Did you just… did you just snort?" he asked in disbelief mixed with amusement. After seeing Daphne's composed and indifferent expression countless times, it was practically unbelievable that the Slytherin girl could do something like that. Until that moment, Harry was certain that his companion was incapable of showing any basic emotions, let alone amusement. After all, he's never heard her even chuckling before. She most definitely can show anger, though, he corrected himself, recalling their confrontation after the Potions Class.
"I most certainly did not," Daphne protested immediately, quickly adopting her cold tone of indifference, though the pink on her cheeks, even though it was subtle, suggested otherwise.
"I'm pretty sure you did," Harry pressed on; the Slytherin girl's eyes narrowed as she cast daggers at him with her eyes. "It certainly wasn't a chuckle," he added.
"Say that again, and I'll make sure that you're unable to fly on a broom for at least a month," she hissed those words in such a way that, for a split second, Harry wondered if she spoke Parseltongue. However, that thought quickly escaped his mind as he registered something hard poking his inner thigh. He looked down, only to see the tip of Daphne's wand pressed against his leg. He raised his hands in surrender.
"So," Harry began hesitantly, gulping heavily at the mere thought of what the Slytherin in front of him could do to him. "That story about Flint is true?" he asked, eyeing the girl's wand suspiciously.
"Yeah," she confirmed, pressing her wand further against the muscles of his leg; the wood was dangerously close to his crotch. How can she reach so far? Harry couldn't help but ask himself as he calculated the approximate distance between them. There's no way she can reach so far with her hand. "And I can assure you that Quidditch wasn't the only area in which he was unable to use his broom," Daphne added; the seriousness of her words was enhanced by her wand that kept poking his thigh even stronger than before. Despite what was happening, the young boy failed to suppress a chuckle. Harry shifted uncontrollably in his chair, trying to increase the distance between himself and Daphne's wand. "So no, I didn't snort," she said the last word with such spite as if it burned her tongue.
"Okay, okay," Harry said, raising his hands even higher, signaling defeat. Somehow he knew that surrendering wasn't nearly as bad of a choice as pressing the topic forward, especially since Daphne's wand still didn't move away. "You didn't snort," he added as the girl's eyes were still casting daggers at him. Slowly, the Slytherin retreated her wand, and her face returned to its usual expression – a subtle smirk of indifference and boredom. He decided to blame the light traces of pink on her cheeks on the dim light of the Three Broomsticks.
"That's right," she commented, nodding her head a couple of times. She grabbed the almost empty bottle of butterbeer and downed its content in one gulp, immediately opening the second one. "And how did you learn about what I've done to Flint?"
Harry chuckled slightly, somewhat glad that she didn't allow an uncomfortable silence to settle between them. "I've heard it from Neville, who heard it from Parvati and Lavender," he informed her. "Then, I remembered that Flint was unable to play during a couple of matches, so, in my opinion, the whole story checked out."
"Ah yes, I've almost forgotten about the two greatest gossipers in our year," Daphne commented. "Though I'm surprised it became public knowledge, to be honest. We never allow the inner-House conflicts to be known amongst others," she said. If she was disappointed with that fact, her tone didn't let him know that. "Any progress with that Egg?"
"No," Harry shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle. He sighed heavily and massaged his temples. "I didn't even try opening it again. My ears are still ringing at the memory," he added with a humorless chuckle. "Besides, I've got something else on my mind right now with this Tournament."
"Ah yes, the Yule Ball," Daphne guessed correctly, earning herself a nod of confirmation from Harry. "Have you asked someone already?"
"Yeah… it didn't go well," he informed her.
"Chang?"
"How did you-?"
"You're not exactly subtle when you're staring at her each time you see her," Daphne cut him off. Harry felt his cheeks warming up at her words. "It doesn't take a genius to see that you're… infatuated with her. I must disappoint you, though," she added quickly. "She has her eyes set on Diggory," Daphne explained; observing as Harry's questioning gaze turned into a disappointed one.
"Oh," he commented, looking sheepishly at his empty plate. "Well, Cho said that someone has already asked her to the Ball and that she agreed," Harry continued, recalling his most recent encounter with the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker. Since their conversation at the entrance to the Owlery, he didn't dare to look in her direction in the Great Hall or when he passed her by in the corridors. Each time he wished for a hole to appear on Hogwarts' floor to swallow him and never let him out. "And how about you? Did anyone dare to ask the 'Ice Queen' to the Ball?" he asked, trying to mask his disappointment and abashment at being called out with a teasing tone.
"Unfortunately, yes," Daphne sighed, correcting herself on the chair. "A few attempted to do that, though the memory of what I've done to Flint made their approaches somewhat… dulled," she added, with the faintest trace of a smile on her lips that was covered by the bottle of butterbeer.
"Did you freeze someone else's broom?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking; he laughed slightly at his own joke.
"No," Daphne replied simply; her eyes sparkled for a split second. "But I was immensely tempted to do that. However, I would very quickly lose my precious title of the 'Ice Queen' if I allowed myself to be controlled by my instincts. And quite frankly, I enjoy it."
"Why?" Harry once again couldn't stop himself from asking. "I mean, what's with that name? I remember hearing it once or twice even before the whole… ice incident."
Daphne shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I sort of earned it without even trying. Can't say I'm mad about it, though. Especially after what happened to Flint, it helped keep some of the more… persistent boys from approaching me."
"You know, I've been thinking," Harry started after a few minutes of sitting in silence and drinking butterbeer.
"You certainly do know how to make someone nervous, Potter," Daphne commented, once again earning herself a chuckle from the Gryffindor.
"Well, you've said that you were asked to the Ball already," he continued, trying to sort the words in the best way possible. "But you haven't said that you've accepted any of those proposals. Also, I have to have a partner since I'm one of the Champions, so I've been thinking if maybe we could go together? As friends, of course," he added quickly after noticing her raised eyebrow. Somehow, the nervousness he felt when he asked Cho to the Ball wasn't there that time.
"Once again, you're either incredibly bold or incredibly stupid, Potter," Daphne commented. "Especially after I've just threatened to freeze your broom. Besides, imagine the scandal that would erupt – a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together on a dance floor. Practically worthy of an article in the Daily Prophet."
"Sorry, it was just something that came to my mind," Harry replied, quickly seeing reason in her words.
"Though your offer certainly has its advantages," Daphne continued as if she didn't hear him. "You're not nearly as bad as some of the others who have asked me, and the fact that you're apparently immune to Delacour's allure speaks volumes about you."
"Okay, first of all, I'm not sure if I should be offended by your words right now."
"That's the whole point of making a clever insult," Daphne replied immediately; once again, the left corner of her lips was raised slightly higher than usual.
"Second," Harry continued. "What allure?" he asked, clearly confused.
"Do you know what a Veela is?"
"I only know what a villa is," Harry replied, looking at Daphne as if a second head suddenly appeared on her shoulders.
"Maybe it's better that way," she commented, sipping at her butterbeer. "I'll only tell you that there is a reason why most of the male population of our school drools each time she's passing the corridors. The fact that you're not one of them is remarkable, to be honest." Daphne shook her head slightly to get rid of a single strand of hair that was falling on her face. "I'll go with you to the Ball," she declared, looking Harry straight in the eyes; the boy's eyebrows shot upward. "On certain conditions, though," Daphne added quickly.
"And these are?"
"First, you'll make sure to get yourself proper clothes for the Ball," she stated simply. "I'll help you choose something if you want. I say it will even be better that way. There are several shops here, in Hogsmeade, that offer such services. Second, you'll do something with your hair."
"And what's wrong with it?" Harry asked, subconsciously glancing upward. A few messy strands were falling on his face, almost covering his eyes.
"You could at least get a haircut once in a while," Daphne replied, shrugging her shoulders as if it was the most obvious thing. Harry chuckled at that, finding it impossible to disagree with her.
"Okay, but I have a condition as well."
"Really? You ask me to the Ball, and you have conditions?" she asked in disbelief. Harry grinned sheepishly at her.
"You'll teach me how to dance."
Hours later, long after curfew and even midnight, the two students made their way back into the Castle. Fortunately for them, the back door to the Honeydukes was still opened, allowing them to slip into the cellar and to the tunnel that would lead them back to the third floor.
"I can't quite understand why you've decided to show me the Map if it's so precious to you," Daphne commented as they walked through the dark tunnel, illuminated only by the light from the tips of their wands.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if we went to Hogsmeade a week ago, you would have seen it, so I didn't see the point in keeping it secret," he replied, correcting his grip on a package that he was carrying in his hand. Luckily, they've managed to find a single clothing store opened at that hour. After what felt like ages to him, though in reality was less than half an hour, Daphne decided that a simple Muggle suit would be the most appropriate attire for him for the Ball. Dress robes are for old Lords who think too much of themselves. You would look ridiculously in one of those, was her reasoning. After checking some of the more traditional wizarding attires, Harry had to agree. A fourteen-year-old would look awful in them.
"Besides, it was easier that way to explain how I knew about you and Astoria," he added after a moment. Daphne nodded her head in understanding, though it went unnoticed by the boy.
They stopped a few meters away from the One-eyed Witch Statue. Harry checked the Marauder's Map once again to make sure that the area around them was clear before he slipped through the narrow opening behind the hump. After looking around the corridor, and once again checking the Map, he let Daphne know that the area was clear. The Slytherin girl gracefully climbed out of the tunnel before Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them.
"What was that?" he whispered to her after noticing that Daphne muttered some spell, though he was unable to make out the incantation, even despite their close proximity.
"Being invisible is one thing," she replied, not bothering herself to whisper, even as Harry tried to shush her. "We could still be heard. I took care of that," Daphne explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Without another word, the two began walking towards the Dungeons. The walk from the third floor wasn't long, but they had to stop several times to avoid running into one of the teachers or Prefects patrolling the corridors.
Just as they were about to enter Harry's most hated part of the Castle, the young boy pressed them both against the wall. He had no idea how he noticed the movement – these were probably his Quidditch reflexes, and they certainly paid off as they were mere inches away from running straight into Professor Moody. Instinctively, Harry pressed his hand against Daphne's mouth, not fully trusting the Silencing Spell she cast on them.
"So, the Map isn't one hundred percent accurate," Daphne commented after calming her breath and making sure that Professor Moody made his way out of the Dungeons. Her heart, as well as Harry's, was beating at a supersonic speed; the famed Auror was capable of striking fear in almost everyone at Hogwarts.
"That's impossible," Harry commented, looking at the Map in disbelief. It didn't show Moody's name where he should have been. Instead, according to his father's work, DADA Professor was supposed to be in his office on the third floor. At that point, the only indication that he was on the corridors was the faint echo of his walking stick hitting the stone floor. "Maybe it's part of his paranoia," he commented under his breath, trying to understand why the Map wasn't working as intended. "Maybe he somehow cast an Antitracking Spell on himself," he suggested.
"Maybe," Daphne agreed, breathing heavily to compose herself. "But what would he be doing in the Dungeons at such a late hour? It's not his area of patrol."
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he's mad, you know? Maybe he wanted to make sure that the Castle was safe."
"Nevertheless, that was close," she replied, earning herself a nod of confirmation from Harry. "Come on, I'm practically falling asleep where I stand," Daphne said, urging him to walk with her towards the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. "Is it clear inside?" she asked him.
"Yeah, the Common Room is empty," Harry informed her after checking the Map.
"Good," Daphne replied, leaving the safety of the Invisibility Cloak. "Thank you," she said simply. "It was… surprisingly fascinating to slip out from the Castle."
"You've never done that before?" Harry asked, barely holding back a chuckle.
"Why would I? Goodnight, Potter," she replied without waiting for an answer, turning towards the door.
"Goodnight," he said, turning around to leave. "I'm pretty sure you snorted back then, though," he added before he could stop his mouth from moving.
Daphne's body froze just as she was supposed to say the password to the Slytherin Common Room. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she spoke loudly enough for Harry to hear. In a blink of an eye, Daphne turned around, her wand in her hand, and cast the Freezing Charm on the floor where she predicted Harry to be. No more than two seconds passed before she heard a dull thud of a body hitting the stone floor, followed by the boy's yelp of pain.
"Be careful not to rumple the suit, Potter. And in case you weren't aware, the Silencing Spell no longer works on you. I suggest you go before some Professor learns that a certain Gryffindor has been seen in the Dungeons at such a late hour with undoubtedly forbidden artifacts. Mischief managed, Potter," she said, slipping through the opening and disappearing into the Slytherin Common Room.
His heart was racing as he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, all the time hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. After checking the Map, he noticed that Hermione was in her Dormitory and Ron was sitting in the Common Room. Luckily for him, the youngest Weasley boy has fallen asleep on the couch, probably waiting for him to return. Harry slipped past him as silently as he could and entered the Boys' Dormitory. Daphne's words still echoed in his mind, even as he was lying in the bed.
She knew both phrases to activate and deactivate the Map, and Harry had no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to tell Professor Snape about that. Maybe I should learn to keep my tongue behind my teeth.
That's it for today. As always, I hope you enjoyed it. Phew, the longest chapter so far, and it took me ages to write it. Nevertheless, let me know your thoughts. For those of you who want to see more strife between Hermione, Harry, and Ron, I'm sorry that this chapter disappointed you. I've read several stories with 'angry Harry,' and almost each of them followed the same scenario: Harry gets too angry to control himself and yells at somebody in front of the entire school. While I understand the emotions connected to it, I also find it somewhat distasteful. So, what I want to show in my story, is more disappointment than anger. Let me know how I'm doing so far, and see you in the next chapter!