Heirs of the Founders

by Animekitty2

A more mature, knowledgeable and motivated Harry Potter goes to school. His fated encounter with Hermione Granger comes sooner as they share a compartment aboard the Hogwarts' Express during their first journey to school. With greater self-confidence, the muggle-born and halfblood will start the long needed reformation of the magical world, hand in hand. HP/HG/DG/LL/OC

20. Chapter 20

Heirs of the Founders

Obligatory blah blah blah:

I do not now, nor have I ever and only will if I'm the last person on Earth (at which point the whole concept of rights, royalties and responsibility, etc. . . becomes moot, to say the least) own Harry Potter or the characters therein, they belong to J. K. Rowling; I'm just playing with them.

Author's Note:

Originally posted as a continuation to chapter 19; same warnings apply.

Chapter Twenty

Friday morning started extra early for Hermione when she woke, feeling very well rested but well before her usually time. The first thing she noticed was an odd warm weight resting on her newly enlarged bust size. (An unexpected change that had seen Floozy scurrying to Diagon Alley for a few additional items of clothing that Hermione had not packed nor thought she'd need prior to the Yule Break at the earliest. Being considerate of her mistress' public modesty, the she-elf purchased a few plain white training brassieres.) Of course, the concept of clothing or underthings was moot this morning, considering Hermione had been sleeping au natural with a companion she couldn't remember climbing into bed with. Once that little memory tickled her consciousness, she opened her eyes and expected to see Harry.

She didn't.

Surprised, Hermione noticed long blonde hair draped casually across her chest. This unexpected sight was accompanied by a few fragmented memories, of questionable purity, that came to mind regarding events that followed Halloween's aborted feast. Those memories began with Harry and her searching for Daphne Greengrass, who hadn't attended the feast. Her friend, Tracy Davis, was worried about her distraught friend's safety because the witch didn't know about the troll. Their self-appointed mission to aid Tracey's friend led to them discovering the distressed Slytherin witch in a girls' washroom. She had been cornered by the troll: which was not in the dungeons as Professor Quirrell had reported. Having no time to get aid, Harry and Hermione had been forced to save their friend themselves.

The bushy-haired witch shivered, when she remembered how Harry had dispatched the lumbering creature and knew the sight of the troll bleeding profusely from its mouth, nose and eyes would be with her for a very long time but better that memory than the likely alternative, she concluded.

Daphne's rescue had been followed by an unexpected escape, as Harry—carrying their blonde and demur friend—and Hermione stepped through a mirror and into Slytherin's bedchamber; courtesy of magic performed by Fiona and Hogwarts. The green-eyed wizard had carefully laid the Greengrass Heiress on the bed. Hermione, with instructions from the female Founders, cast a diagnostic spell on their comrade in the silver and green. After a diagnostic spell cast by Hermione and a brief discussion, Rowena and Helga agreed that Daphne was afflcted with a curse similar to what Founder Ravenclaw had endured since her youth. Rowena had only survived because Merlin—by chance—found and rescued her from a cage that the—by then—deceased Morgana had kept the child-witch in. Due to the sinister nature of this dark piece of magic, they knew that if the young Slytherin did not obtain sufficient and regular release, the consequences would be dire.

Since the only way to help Daphne involved activities not usually engaged in by first-year students, they thought that it would be better if Harry was not present. He left like a gentleman and only asked that they help their friend; Slytherin's image had also departed respectfully. With just witches present, Helga and Rowena taught Hermione a spell to help the blonde witch. They also secured the young Gryffindors understanding that it was an extremely dangerous curse, which should not be used lightly, except in extreme cases; like the Greengrass Heiress' now acute and likely life-long affliction. With warnings and knowledge imparted and learned, the young Gryffindor cast the 'Guaden Extrema' curse. Hermione had not expected the magical drain or the feedback loop that developed between her and Daphne. Upon casting the curse a second time, she suffered its backlash and it sent the hazel-eyed witch to the floor, in blissful harmony; it was but an echo of what Daphne had experienced.

Hermione knew this unexpected intimacy was why she hadn't freaked-out, when she woke and found herself being cuddled by the blonde and nude witch; now using her chest as a pillow. She wasn't sure how Daphne would feel about it but, nevertheless, the bushy-haired witch found herself gently stroking the Slytherin's long hair. The drool, which would likely mortify the Greengrass Heiress, that was dampening one of Hermione's breasts felt oddly nice to the Gryffindor, in a rather private and mature manner. The hazel-eyed witch shifted her weight but her motion woke the slumbering snake.

Daphne woke, screamed and retreated to the foot of the bed, clutching her knees to her chest in an attempt to protect herself both physically and emotionally.

"It's okay Daphne," Hermione soothed softly, "I'm not going to hurt you; you had a rather terrifying experience last night. Harry and I brought you here for safety and away from questions. The professors don't know about you or about Harry and my involvement, it'll be better for us if some remained ignorant for a long time."

"Wh-where am I; is this the Gryffindor dorms?" Daphne asked, surprisingly calmly; almost as if she was emotionally dead and resigned to her fate.

"This is my . . . um . . . private chamber you might say," Hermione replied.

"Why . . . why are we nude and why do you have a private chamber?" the Slytherin witch asked hesitantly and in confusion. She wasn't relaxing the hold on her knees either and continued to clutch them to her chest. She was completely unaware her position left her both vulnerable and very exposed to the witch sitting at the head of the bed. Hermione noticed; she was torn between looking and looking away, Daphne was a very attractive witch.

Collecting her thoughts and burying the naughtier ones, the hazel-eyed witch replied, "It's rather complicated and begins with me, Harry and the second day of term. I had just discovered my very sudden and unexpected accession to the Lady Matriarch of the Nobel House of Granger . . ."

". . . The what!" Daphne exclaimed, the shocking news overwhelming both her and her shyness; she relaxed a little, too, oddly enough.

Resting a hand on the back of her neck and trying to massage out some tension, Hermione said, "Well . . . about that . . . Harry made a little mistake trying to protect me; he misspoke the Rite of Protection . . ."

". . . that's some 'little' mistake," she said, mostly to herself but a little too loudly.

"Tell me about it," the Gryffindor witch agreed.

"But how? It doesn't make any sense and I learned 'the rules' at my father's knee."

"That's really Harry's story to tell; not mine," she replied flatly, her tone brokering no further discussion since the young wizard was not present.

"I-I understand," Daphne replied, it was obviously a 'House' matter; that didn't make her any less curious, though. She added, "So . . . you said this was your private chamber; your private chamber where? It looks too Slytherin to be in or near the Gryffindor dorms."

"Daphne," Hermione began sternly, "what I'm about to say must not be spoken of beyond these chambers until Harry and I say otherwise. Do you understand?"

The blonde-haired witch nodded her head; secrets were part and parcel and the stock in trade for many in the house of silver and green.

The hazel-eyed witch took a deep breath and said, "I'm not just the Lady Matriarch of the Noble House of Granger; I'm also the Lady Hermione, Duchess of Slytherin."

"The what! And why you; you're a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!"

"I'm only a Gryffindor because Slytherin House has lost sight of its roots and true nature," she stated simply.

Daphne blinked and stared blankly until she heard the sonorous voice of a man across the room. It drew her attention towards the hearth and the portrait above it, the wizard within stated, "Blood-purity has nothing to do with my House; it's only thanks to a string of subsequent fools, thinking themselves important, which led to that mistaken and foolish belief. The whole blood-purity argument, movement and nonsense would see our people decimated within a few generations; by selecting Hermione as my Avatar of Slytherin, I intend to redress the slander that has come to be associated with my name. . . . By the way: you two are a couple of very attractive young witches just ripening to play time; I appreciate your informal attire, it warms this old wizard's heart and loins."

"Salazar!" Hermione and the added voices of Rowena and Helga, as they entered the portrait, exclaimed."

"They are!" the image of Slytherin nearly whined but it was playful sounding.

"Yes they are but you needn't embarrass them, Sal," Helga said forcefully before turning her attention to the young nubile witches on the bed, "Hello Daphne, I am Helga Hufflepuff—well her soul copy anyways—and I wish to welcome you to the Patrons' and Founders' Chamber. This was Salazar Slytherin's room; it belongs to Hermione now. We understand that all this must seem rather complicated but since you've been brought to our chambers it's only proper we introduce ourselves. The wizard is obviously Salazar Slytherin and the witch by my side is Rowena Ravenclaw; Godric Gryffindor will likely be by soon but we didn't want to overwhelm you . . . or overwhelm you more than we likely will. I hope we can all get along, since you are now an 'initiate' to what might be called the Great Hogwarts' Mystery. You are only the third person to enter this place in many years. For now, we would like to know how you came to be in the state Hermione and Harry found you in last night. If it makes you more comfortable, we can ask Sal to leave."

The image of Slytherin, more astute than most might think, left the portrait without being asked.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Daphne stammered, "I was n-nearly k-killed by a t-troll and was r-rescued."

"We know about last night," the image of Ravenclaw said softly, "What we need to know is how you became cursed in a manner very similar to what happened to me. I know this is very difficult but it's very important; especially with you coming into Hermione's care, it's awkward for her too and she needs to know why this—rather pleasant—duty fell to her. You must've of realized by now you're feeling much better than you have for a long time and it's thanks to Hermione's willingness to help feed your extremely intimate problem."

"I . . . I don't know what y-your t-talking about," the Slytherin witch tried to play coy.

"Enough!" Rowena exclaimed with surprising callousness, "Tell me when you were cursed and how it happened; if I have to I'll have a house-elf up her with a vial of veritasermon—post haste—and have it forced down your gullet if need be. You will speak, the choice between voluntarily or compulsory is your only option. You, of all people, should know how much you now owe Hermione; she was the one who addressed your issue and the person most responsible for your now much much clearer thinking. Be thankful she is rather uninhibited, as uninhibited as you and that's without your curse; now, tell us what we need to know!"

Daphne looked as if she was about to cry but she stiffened her upper lip and began telling her story. Her voice, weak at first slowly gained strength. "Early last spring—late March or early April; my memory's really foggy—I was kidnapped by a couple of wizards. We suspect (more than suspect really) they were working for Lucius Malfoy. This occurred just prior to Draco's father approaching my father with a 'mutually beneficial' betrothal contract. Lord Malfoy offered, in exchange for what amounted to my being purchased, to aid in the investigation and my subsequent rescue from my nefarious fate; likely as a sex-slave for some rich foreign wizard with a penchant for young witches.

"My father strung Malfoy a long," she continued bitterly, "and secretly engaged a few associates he has in muggle England. Without Malfoy being any the wiser since he completely disregards muggles; my father's associates tracked me down and rescued me. In the process, they killed the two wizards holding me captive; that, of course, made it easy for Malfoy to dodge any accusations my father might make. Since the Malfoy Family holds a slightly higher rank—thanks to numerous bribes and blackmail I'm sure—my father couldn't really pursue the matter before the Wizengamot."

"Okay," Helga said softly, "we understand that but you haven't explained the curse you are suffering from or how it came to affect you."

Again hesitating, Daphne remained silent for a moment before replying, "It was soon after I was kidnapped. One of my captors thought it would be amusing to use a whore curse on me. Since, as far as they knew, I was destined for sale to someone unconcerned with my . . . um . . . purity, they thought they might have some fun and prepare me for my . . . er . . . future." She took a deep and continued, "I was repeatedly raped and used until I . . . I was rescued but because of the c-curse I not only en-enjoyed my treatment b-but actually began yearning for it. I'm dirty, disgusting and valueless now, with dark and foul urges that need to be fed; being killed by the troll would've been a release—of sorts—for me, I'm too much of a coward to act on my own."

Stunned, Hermione listened to her friend's story and could not believe what she heard and when Daphne began to cry soundlessly, the hazel-eyed witch had to comfort her. She moved from the head of the bed and reached out her arm to the witch huddled at the bed's foot. The young Slytherin, her body wracked by silent sobs, unconsciously took Hermione's hand. She didn't resist, when the Gryffindor flopped on her back and pulled her on top; Daphne surrendered to a tight embrace. Neither cared, either, when Hermione's knee rose between the blonde's parted thighs or when the Gryffindor's leg pressed against the Slytherin's crotch, just as one of Daphne's legs pressed against the Gryffindor's.

"Shh, it's okay Daphne; I've got you," whispered the hazel-eyed witch. She gently stroked the blonde's hair and said, "go ahead, cry . . . cry all you want, it's not like I'm wearing anything that can get wet."

And cry is what Daphne did as Hermione held her in a most intimate manner.

After a time, the blonde's quiet sobs grew further apart and the well of unshed tears finally drained. The young Gryffindor continued to stroke and hug the distraught witch who had been through more than anyone her age—or ever for that matter—should be. As the last few tears fell on Hermione's shoulder, Daphne's motions became less sorrowful and more randy. Unconsciously, she began rubbing and pressing herself—gently at first—against the young Gryffindor's leg.

"D-Daphne . . ." Hermione began but her words failed; unable to pass her now quivering lips as the Slytherin's actions grew more urgent.

Unable to speak, a rarity for Hermione, the young witch did nothing to stop her friend as she, herself, began responding to Daphne's incessant movements, which saw the young Gryffindor's leg grow shiny with the young Slytherin's self-indulgent ministrations. That Daphne's actions were also in proximity to one of Hermione's more sensitive places; the bushy-haired witch quickly fell to the sensations building in her body. With her breathing growing irregular and her heart threatening to burst from her chest, Hermione's propriety was lost to the pleasure of having their breasts firmly pressed against the others' and the sensations of their cores stimulated by the others' leg. Hermione's usually more cautious self-control was in shambles and beyond caring as she succumbed to the pleasure of being with another intimately.

"Do you think we should stop them?" Helga asked from the portrait, the witches on the bed were oblivious.

"Do think that we can?" Rowena replied, "No matter how loud we yelled, I doubt we can gain their attention and—when all is said and done—should we? I suppose we could summon Fiona or Floozy but that would likely just lead to an embarrassing and unwelcome outcome, which might even be unhealthy. I say let them go for now, whether they stop now or in a few minutes is unlikely to change how they will feel afterwards; at least they'll be satisfied, might as well let them enjoy it."

"I suppose your right, Rowena, but it's been a long time since I've seen two such amorous and eager witches," Hufflepuff said, "especially witches this young but considering what happened to the poor girl, I'm glad Slytherin's Avatar is taking her responsibilities seriously. Besides, Hermione needs to get used to it sooner rather than later, Daphne is going to need some fairly extreme and heavy-handed attention, which isn't going to lessen over time. Quite the opposite I'm sure, if our experiences with you are any indication."

"I don't think Hermione is finding her responsibilities too onerous, my old friend," Founder Ravenclaw observed, "Let's hope she's truly her mothers' daughter. I suppose we should be thankful for her liberal and embracing family. I kind of feel sorry for Harry though, just between how my great granddaughter Luna was described and Hermione's obvious precocious proclivity; he's going to be a very busy and exhausted wizard."

Helga snickered at Rowena's likely accurate assessment but like her co-Founder, her eyes hadn't drifted from their voyeuristic focus on the display before them. Obviously, things were becoming heated between the blonde and brunette and the sight of Daphne; using her arms to lift and force herself harder against Hermione was quite scandalous. This spectacle was also making it difficult for the painted witches to maintain their decorum but they both knew they didn't have time to indulge their own appetites. Daphne and Hermione would likely need some calm reassurance once they journeyed to the obvious conclusion of their current path, an end that appeared to be rapidly approaching.

The previously silent Greengrass Heiress was growing more vocal and the Lady Granger's hands had migrated from the safety of the blonde witch's back and were cupping Daphne's behind. Lost in her own sensations, Hermione seemed intent on providing additional force to Daphne's already rather intense pleasure seeking. The two began gasping and moaning, each lost unexpectedly to the curse that drove Daphne's actions and Hermione's by association. Through all, the images of Helga and Rowena in the mantel portrait noted the aura of innocence, which didn't diminish, considering the less than innocent behavior between Daphne and Hermione.

With a final loud gasp and subsequent moan from each witch, Daphne collapsed on top of Hermione. The Slytherin's puffy lips found the Gryffindor's and Daphne instigated what became a very intense snog. At last, the two sweaty witches separated. Daphne rolled off Hermione; her breath still ragged and her heart still pounding. Both witches were panting as hard as the other was, since Hermione had received her own intense and sympathetic release from her friend's corporal behavior.

Once sufficiently recovered, Daphne realized what she had done. She rose to her knees again and backed away from the young Gryffindor, who had a surprisingly mature and inviting body, Daphne stammered, "I-I'm s-so s-sorry, Her-Hermione, I-I d-didn't . . . d-didn't want . . . I-I c-couldn't st-stop . . . I-I . . ."

Hermione, her own nakedness a non-issue, smiled and rolled on her side and looked at her friend seductively. She had enjoyed Daphne's impulsiveness and, thanks to her upbringing, it hadn't bothered her; it was just unexpected and early. The bushy-haired witch said a little huskily, "I'm fine Daphne, really I am. If anything, I should've stopped you but you caught me by surprise; I lost myself too soon to truly act. I was as much caught in your curse as you were but I knew that it might happen when I said I'd do what I needed to help you. I'm glad Harry isn't here, I'm not ready for that yet but what happened between us seems well within my comfort range; I hope we get to spend more time together. This was . . . refreshing."

Daphne Greengrass could only stare at the still bodily flushed Gryffindor; who seemed unaware or unconcerned that she was lying naked on a bed with someone she really barely knew. That two women, in the magical portrait above the hearth, were looking on didn't register with either witch and likely wouldn't have mattered if they had.

Hermione, understanding that her rather unique prospective towards certain things, said in reassurance and explanation, "My family is different—very different—Daph; we're very open about matters of a more—shall we say—physicsal nature; far more so than many who consider themselves liberal, the truth be told. First off, I need you to understand; I have two mothers—active in my life—and a father. I also a half-sister who's a year younger. I only just learned about her. The four of us are—or will be—living in my house now. Please keep this to yourself though; Harry may be joining us by the end of the year if certain circumstances play out in manners expected. Added to this rather complicated fact is that my other mother—the one who didn't birth me—is someone you might know . . ."

". . . Wh-who?" Daphne couldn't help herself from asking.

"My second mother, who we knew as Nancy Moore, is the Lady Narcissa Malfoy; well the former Lady Malfoy, I suppose."

The young Slytherin gasped and stared; her eyes wide in shock.

"D-Danielle M-Malfoy, she's your sister isn't she," the young Slytherin quickly connected the dots, "I always thought you looked kinda familiar, Hermione . . . wow! Now that I know, I . . . I don't know why I didn't see it when we met; Dani doesn't look anything like Draco—or his father—except for sorta similar eye and hair colors."

"My unexpected relationship to Draco Malfoy is something I've tried not to dwell upon," Hermione said with a chuckle before continuing, "And Danielle Malfoy is now Danielle Granger-Black, we met on the first weekend of term. Harry and I had some business with Gringotts and Lord Malfoy, meeting my sister was an unexpected but happy consequence, I had always wanted a sister. Dani and Cissy-mum have moved in with me, my mum and dad, who is Dani's real father of course."

"I . . . I can't say that I blame you for not dwelling on your relationship to Draco; I'd feel dirty just thinking about it," Daphne said, "I guess that also explains Malfoy's somewhat subdued behavior of late. . . . Wait, Harry Potter is your family's patron isn't he! I never connected to that. Whoa, with him being the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, he can virtually stomp all over Lucius Malfoy if he wanted to. Wow, few muggle-born enter Wizarding England and gain such a pedigreed patron in such short order. You and Harry have been really good about it too; I've never seen either of you flaunting your positions. Even when you've taken Malfoy down a few pegs; you've been very subtle and surprisingly subdued—quite Slytherin, if you ask me—considering what you could do if he really pissed either of you off."

"Like Harry and I said," the hazel-eyed witch smiled, "if it hadn't been for my sort of step-brother and the stupid pure-blooded nonsense, Harry at least would've likely been your house-mate. I'm sure I would've been too if not for all the bigoted nonsense running rampant in my house. I wouldn't have minded sharing a dorm—and perhaps more—with you either, Daph . . . what's Tracey like in private?"

The Slytherin witch's skin glowed to a full body blush.

"Okay you two," Helga said from the portrait, "you've had your fun, now; we need to get back to the business at hand, namely, giving Miss Greengrass the true facts of Hogwarts' life but before that: how do you feel Daphne?"

"I . . . I feel really good actually, better than I have for ages; did you cure me—no that's silly if I was cured; Hermione and I wouldn't have . . . you know—so what did you do. My head hasn't felt this clear or focused for a long time and I feel really good about myself; like I could take on the world or something."

Rowena and Helga smiled; then Rowena said, "You can thank Hermione for making you feel better; your previous efforts at controlling your curse were rapidly becoming ineffectual. Your foggy mind and messed up emotional state was a sure sign of it. I suppose—unknown to you and your . . . um . . . helper—the required levels of stimulation you needed, needed to be taken up a notch or two; you were beginning to fall to the insanity that such curses regularly lead to. For now, the spell that Hermione used should keep you adequately sated but eventually you'll begin craving even more extreme sensations. It's too bad that the caster of the curse is dead, the spell was keyed to his magic and only his magic can lift it. I faced the same thing when I was younger than you.

"Thankfully," Founder Ravenclaw maintained, "I was part of a group that was very understanding and never took advantage of my condition; at least not in a way I actually minded. I'll tell it to you sometime, my sister of insatiable decadence, but reminiscing about the past will not help us today. Anyways, Daphne, you'll be functioning much better now but I'd suggest that you and your current helper maintain your previous level of . . . contact; it should help with the gentler cravings, which will be always present. They build up over time; if the itch isn't scratched you might say. For those times that your . . . friend is not enough or not comfortable enough to sate you, you can turn to Slytherin's Avatar for assistance, I doubt she'll mind; especially if you reciprocate relief."

Hermione and Daphne blushed and, for a time; they were unable to meet the other's eyes.

"Anyways," Helga said, ignoring the young witches' discomfort, "Filius Flitwick will be expecting you shortly, I suggest you get showered and dressed; I'll have Floozy fetch your clothes. Should Daphne choose to join you in the shower to save time; please remember you don't have a lot of time for fooling around. You've felt Professor Filtwick's stinging hex, Hermione; so you know not to disappoint him."

"I'll remember, Helga," Hermione replied. She rose from the bed but before she headed to the washroom she asked, "Do you want to join us Daphne? If you are to become as involved with Harry, you'll need more than that soft, flabby witch's body—for all it's quite scrumptious—to stand beside us and our road ahead will not be easy."

"In . . . in the shower?" the Slytherin asked; her thoughts focused on the shower part.

"Well, not specifically the shower but that would save some time, I think," Hermione said nonchalantly before giggling, "What I was speaking of was joining the training Harry and I suffer through three times a week. I'm sure Professor Flitwick will adjust it according to your current fitness and abilities; they're more than just former Death Eaters arrayed against us and we need to be prepared. It's something you'll have to accept if you want a brighter future and standing by Harry is the only way to realized it, I'm sure. There's a lot happing, Daphne, and Harry Potter is the center from whence all is being measured. I suppose that's a lot to swallow and as the daughter of a Noble House, your position is sensitive but whether noble or lowborn; change is coming whether for good or for ill. You don't need to make a decision today and I'll respect your choices. I'm sure you might want—perhaps must—to discuss things with your father but just so you know; Harry and I have a few allies—from the Magical Community and beyond—but we are always looking for more. By the way, if you do join me in the shower; I'll behave better than the princess of Hogwarts did on my birthday."

"That's . . . that's incredibly Slytherin of you Hermione," her abstractly praising words were answered with a warm smile from the Gryffindor. Daphne continued, "Perhaps I will join you, at least this morning; I'm curious about the rumors swirling around about what you, Harry and the head of Ravenclaw get up to on a regular basis: I'm sure it will be an erudite experience."

Hermione smiled warmly again and put her hand out to the young Slytherin; she said, "Come, let's get washed then; I'll have Floozy alter some clothes for you, Hogwarts' robes are not conducive to anything physical but protecting you from the harsh environment, which this area of Scotland is notorious for."

Daphne tilted her head and asked, "Who's Floozy?"

"Floozy is my house-elf, silly," the Gryffindor replied, "Hogwarts gave her to me as a birthday present."

"Hogwarts . . . gave you . . . a house-elf . . . for your birthday!"

"Yes . . . is that odd?" She replied, with feigned innocence and held out her hand.

Daphne only stared, she finally said, "You are not like I imagined you'd be like, Hermione; the face you wear in class hides a lot about you. Many Slytherins would kill for that perfect mask of yours. I know you take your studies seriously but I never thought you'd have such a . . . a playful side. Does Harry Potter know about it?"

"He's experienced it from time to time but I need to be careful or I might frighten him," the bushy-haired witch replied. "Harry's life before Hogwarts was not very pleasant and his social skills are even worse than mine from time to time. He's slowly relaxing and growing accustomed to me—and my family too for that matter—but he still has a ways to go. You're the first person—outside of immediate family—who has seen me like this; this is the real me, the me not concerned with convention but still socially responsible. I am very much my parents' daughter and—like them—I understand the importance and necessity of maintaining a communally proper façade. I hope you don't mind; I'd really like a friend who knows and accepts me for who—and what—I am. I hope you'll be that friend, Daphne, we've shared something special but I still want to get to know you better; especially now that you've escaped that shell of yours. I hope we can learn and grow together. This isn't something I can experience with Harry . . . yet but that doesn't mean I don't want it.

"I really hope I'm not freaking you out, either," Hermione continued with worry, "but it's really refreshing being allowed to be me. If I'm being too forward, I'm very sorry Daphne. Still, with everything happening around me, I'm feeling somewhat muddled. It didn't help that my ascension to the Avatar of Slytherin added about a year to my body; so I'm actually kind of all hormone addled too, at the moment . . ."

". . . Hermione," Daphne said and then repeated a little louder, "Hermione, you're rambling. If you're Slytherin's voice—his Avatar—now, your decorum must remain absolute. You are giving away too much, not that I mind, but you must maintain propriety; your Gryffindor is showing."

"Th-thanks Daphne," the hazel-eyed witch said, "I'm just excited, I hope you'll forgive and understand me; I've not had many friends, only Harry really, so this is a new experience for me . . . do you think Tracey and I will get along?"

From the portrait over the hearth, Rowena and Helga giggled; Salazar guffawed with far less restraint. He was quite surprised when Daphne glared at him; he hadn't expected it but he was glad she had found her footing.

"Hermione," the Greengrass Heiress began; the controlling impetuses of the conversation shifting to her, "lead us to your bathroom. I think you really need a relaxing shower and I definitely need to be refreshed. I doubt Tracey has ever left me so pheromone bathed and, yes, I think you and Tracey will get along quite well. I'm certain I'll benefit from any association between you two; likely the most. Your friends, Helga and Rowena, have made it quite clear that I'll need people who can address my . . . needs, for the remainder of my life. Tracy is already sworn to me and my family for this; I'm sure she'll appreciate not being my only enabler and I'm sure she'll want to play with you too. You are a very attractive witch, Hermione, not that I'm the best judge from . . . say . . . a wizard's perspective; since I've developed a rather intense disdain for wizards. I don't really care what wizards think; except for my father of course, I care about his opinions; even though he makes me uncomfortable these days."

The brunette Gryffindor caught the last of what Daphne had said and understood; she said supportively, "I guess being a lesbian is understandable, after what happened but not all wizards are like that. Once you get to know Harry better, you'll see. Neville Longbottom seems pretty nice and respectful too."

"I suppose that'll make my father happier," said the Slytherin witch, "I'm expected to carry the Greengrass name into the next generation; my acquired hatred for wizards might make this difficult. If Harry is as nice as you say, perhaps my family's future won't be so bleak; I'm sure I'll need your help, if I am to propagate the Greengrass legacy. I hope you'll not think I'm poaching, when that time comes; but such possibilities will relieve my father, I'm sure."

Hermione, uncommonly for her, did not sense the implications of where this conversation was leading so she made no comments. Instead, she led the attractive blonde witch to the chamber's very opulent washroom. Aside from a bath that could comfortably accommodate four or more witches and/or wizards, at any given time, they saw that the separate and large shower area that allowed—easily—at least two or more people to enjoy the multiple heads on the walls and ceiling. The shower's built in benches suggested other avenues of possibilities but they had neither the time nor the aspirations to pursue such things. To one side of the washroom, a toilet stood in an alcove and the walls on either side of it provided a modicum of privacy but the two witches—currently not thinking about toilets—looked forward to using these facilities, regularly.

Once each took their respective turns in the little alcove, they stepped into the shower together. As soon as their bare feet touched the tiled floor—which felt surprising spongy but not at all slippery—and they closed the sliding glass door; the shower began spraying water—neither too hot nor too cold—from all the heads. The two witches, briefly played with the various showerhead settings but soon got down to the business of washing—and only washing—each other. With their backs scrubbed—and other things—in areas that one finds generally hard to reach, Hermione turned off the water. Dripping wet and with no towels visible, the two witches stepped from the shower and wondered how to dry themselves. The washroom answered with an almost too hot wind, which buffeted their bodies. It quickly evaporated the water on their bodies; unfortunately, it made a swirling mess of their hair. Looking at each other and their new stylish 'dos, Daphne and Hermione began to laugh.

I can't believe how easy this is for me, Daphne thought as she took a sidelong glance at a mirror, which was reflecting Hermione's—in her mind—well-formed behind. She felt an unwelcome twinge of desire, since they didn't have time to act upon it, as the curse re-asserted itself; thankfully, without becoming all-consuming as it had in the past. I feel like my old self again, she concluded internally, just with an extra 'need' now. I'm looking forward to the future again too, it's just not the future I envisioned a year ago. Hopefully, between Tracey and Hermione feeding my, um, addiction; I'll be able to conquer some of my old goals, I just need to approach them differently. She took a figurative deep breath. I can finally take back the life that was stolen from me; maybe I'll be able to give back Tracey's too. To help me she and her family willing bound her to me in a manner, which nearly eliminated all her inhibitions so she could become my 'helper' as Ravenclaw put it.

"Daph, you okay?" Hermione asked, "You seem—I don't know—suddenly pensive. What's wrong, I hope you're not feeling guilty about what happened; I honestly enjoyed myself and then some, it wasn't an imposition on me. I suppose we don't need to tell Harry about it, I'm not sure how he'd feel; like I said, his home life hasn't been the best and he's a relationship novice you might say."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, Hermione," the blonde witch said, "I was just thinking that my future was suddenly looking a whole lot brighter. My . . . my experience took more than just my innocence; it took my future too. Thanks to you, I've got my future back; for all my innocence is now gone. I doubt I could go back to the old naïve me anyways, if that was ever even an option. To be honest, for all the things that were forced upon, I like how my body feels during and after such things; I guess that makes me a slag but I don't really care, another's opinion means very little to me. I suppose I need to have a long chat with Ravenclaw and find out how she managed to cope; she still achieved great things, it's what she's known for. If she managed, then so can I; perhaps not as greatly but just as importantly." She giggle and then added, "I just need to keep you and Tracey around to manage my symptoms. I'm not so sure about Harry though, he's a boy and I'm not so good with boys anymore."

"We can figured that out later," Hermione said, "Professor Flitwick has no tolerance for tardiness, be thankful he's unlikely to use more than human stinging hexes on you—at least for now—it you decided to join us for the long haul."

"I'll keep that in mind but what am I going to do with my hair? It's everywhere."

Not having an answer but understanding the whole hair issue, Hermione stepped from the washroom. Daphne followed. Thankfully, Floozy had been thinking about her mistress and her mistress' friend; the she-elf had conjured two dressing tables and a couple of chairs. She had also enlisted the aid of another, as of yet, unassigned and unbound she-elf to help prepare them.

"Floozy is ready for mistress," she said, "Floozy also be asking Notti for helping with mistress' friend. Hogwarts be telling Floozy that since Notti is not being given a she-elf job yet at Hoggywarts that she can be helping Mistress Daphne. Floozy be making sure that Notti is learning things a proper Lady's she-elf be needing to know and Floozy sometimes practiced things Prince and Princess Hogwarts taught Floozy with Notti; Notti was very good partner. Notti be making Floozy feel as good as Notti be feeling."

"Floozy," Hermione said sternly, the she-elf's ears folded down, "remember what I said about diction, I expect you to maintain it even when Daphne is present."

Daphne Greengrass looked confused; she wasn't sure why Hermione was scolding her elf.

"I will remember, Mistress Hermione, I am sorry. I assumed you'd want me to behave how witches and wizards expect elves to behave," Floozy, looking at her mistress, replied both clearly and concisely; even her accent seemed cultured. She turned to Daphne and said, "I apologize for my manner of speech, Mistress Daphne; allow me to introduce Notti, she is a she-elf of my acquaintance who I am quite close to and have known since our elfling days. I asked Hogwarts to allow her to aid you and provide for your needs; even aid of a personal nature. She has had some training in such arts and I will ensure she becomes as proficient as you nature requires."

Daphne blushed and thought, Am I hearing this right and is this elf implying what I think she is? She glance at Hermione and noticed that the bushy-haired witch was looking a little flustered.

"Thank you Floozy," Hermione said and then added, "I'll explain things to Daphne; she looks very surprised at the moment."

"Thank you Mistress Hermione, I think your words will be more calming, considering the history between house-elves and wizarding families," she replied in another well-structured manner. Floozy added, "Will Mistress Hermione and Mistress Daphne please take their seats; Notti and I will ensure that their appearances match their station."

"Thank you, Floozy," the hazel-eyed witch replied and took the seat provided for her.

Daphne said somewhat weakly, "Th-thank you Floozy, this was very thoughtful of you."

"You needn't thank me; a house-elf's job is to serve," the she-elf replied, "Notti and I are two lucky elves to be of service to two such honorable mistresses, many elves will be envious."

"Mistress Daphne," Notti the she-elf said, "please take a seat. I look forward to serving you; please instruct me in the manner you wish me to behave."

"Please, Notti, I would like you to behave like Floozy; unless we are somewhere where such behavior might lead to unwelcome questions."

"As you wish, Mistress, now please take your seat; time is growing short and a Professor should never be kept waiting," stated the she-elf and Daphne promptly took a seat before her own dressing table.

"Um, Hermione?" Daphne said as Notti began brushing out the tangled mess that was her hair this morning, "Why am I getting the spa treatment?"

"Hmm . . . I suppose Hogwarts is trying to bribe you," Hermione said with a smirk.

"B-Bribe me! For what? And how can a castle—albeit a magical castle—be able to bribe someone?"

"Well, I suppose the first thing you need to understand is that Hogwarts is more than just a castle, which is home to a school of witchcraft and wizardry," replied the brunette witch, "she is sentient and has emotions; they're just somewhat alien to yours or mine. As for the attempted bribe, Helga is looking for an Avatar too and this is Hogwarts trying to help her. Since Rowena and Godric have prospective Avatars, who'll be attending come January; this is her way of leveling the field. Hogwarts' is taking advantage of a fortuitous event."

"Being nearly killed by troll is not what I'd call a 'fortuitous event', Hermione," the blond witch pointed out, "At least not in the way I understand 'fortuitous'.

"Neither would I," Hermione, fighting not to giggle, agreed, "but, like I said, Hogwarts thinks differently and she's as pragmatic as a goblin. Ask Harry about Goblin pragmatism sometime; he's been exposed to more of it than any other wizard alive, I'm sure. Sometime even Harry seems more goblin than human; they tutored him last summer."

"Goblins, as in Gringotts, you mean those goblins?" She said surprised, "They tutored Harry Potter! I'm sure that would upset more than a few witches and wizards; especially from the Malfoy clique."

"Quite surprising I know," the hazel-eyed witch replied with a nod, "I never would've expected it after my family's first encounter with the 'Keepers of Wizarding Wealth'. We've learned better since then. There is a lot happening behind the scenes, Daphne; more than nearly all of Magical England knows. Time is running out for us, if our attitudes don't change and change soon. We have, according to best estimates, a decade to fix what is broken and have only one pillar on which these repairs can be supported. Standing beside Harry Potter is not for the faint of heart but—as I said earlier—if you want to make things better then it's the only place to stand. Three fifths of my family (that's me, my birth mum and dad) entered Wizarding Britain with no preconceived notions; from what we've seen and from what we've learned, since entering Harry Potter's sphere and service—you might say—is frightening; what with the specter of Voldemort . . ."

Daphne flinched.

Hermione continued unaffected, ". . . and a corrupt and bigoted Ministry hanging over us—the proverbial 'Sword of Damocles' you might say—we are being lead to the edge of an abyss. Magical England has not hid itself as well as it had thought and is about to throw us over the edge; there are some very powerful eyes scrutinizing us and most aren't aware of it. So much is happening behind the scenes that I feel like a character in a Frank Herbert novel: wheels within wheels; plans within plans, is how I'd described it. This is the world that Harry, my family and I occupy; ignorance will not protect you from the coming storm: you'll just be swept away."

The blonde Slytherin blanched at Hermione's words but her now clearer mind followed what the young Gryffindor and Avatar of Slytherin was saying, which were reminiscent of things her father had been saying for as long as Daphne could remember. Obviously, her father had contacts beyond Magical England, her rescue was proof of it; but the young heiress had never thought that revolution was knocking on the door. She really wished she could talk to her father; what Hermione was saying was something she couldn't entrust to owl post.

"That's a lot to think about Hermione," Daphne said solemnly, "I don't even know how to begin answering my feelings but I can sense the truth and conviction in your words. I, above nearly all others, recognize what you are saying because I've already experienced the horror of it but my mind is only now clear enough to understand. I can't give you my answer yet but the Slytherin in me is telling me that a second chance or choice will be unlikely. For now I swear my silence on my magic but I must know more before I can make a choice, which I feel will have to be reasonably soon . . .

"Ouch!" She exclaimed as Notti's brush caught a rather vicious knot in her hair.

"I'll tell you what I can, Daph, but speak to Harry," said the hazel-eyed witch, "he's the fulcrum on which all is balanced but he does not trust easily. To be honest, becoming Hufflepuff's Avatar would really prove your intent but don't choose too quickly. I only became Slytherin's Avatar on Halloween. It took Hogwarts and everyone else nearly two months to explain why I had to do this and overcome my reticence of being more than supporting cast."

"I don't think I'll need that long," the Greengrass heiress said, "I can feel the change like a fresh breeze on my skin, when I am with you. That Lord Malfoy was able to get away with what he did to me, without leaving my father any recourse to avenge my stolen honor. This tells me the current system cannot stand. I still need to think about things; I'm being offered a front row seat to a coming reformation . . ."

". . . It's not a seat, Daphne, it's being part of the performance," Hermione said sagely, "There will be no neutral ground from which to watch this performance, no making deals with the victor, whoever that might be; there are no seats for this 'show'."

Daphne looked a little troubled, "I . . . I understand, Hermione and I think I know what my answer is but I'm not ready to give it yet."

"As long as you know the clock is ticking," Hermione replied, the last few minutes having shown the young Slytherin yet another side of the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

Floozy and Notti, having finished brushing out the witches' hair snapped their fingers and clad the two in comfortable and properly supportive underthings; Hermione's obviously being a bit more supportive.

"Um, Hermione?" Daphne said looking at Hermione's reflection.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to offend you but did your uniform always hide that body of yours; I'm jealous. Merlin's wand, Hermione, there are a few fifth and sixth years who'd die to look like you."

Hermione shook her head and said, "I'm not offended, my body is like an added bonus for becoming an Avatar, I reason. I picked up about a year's worth of growth before waking Halloween morn, it's left me feeling a little achy and I'm not nearly as graceful as I was. I'm not sure what I'm going to say to Professor Flitwick this morning and he's definitely going to notice. Maybe I'll be lucky, he'll focus on you—a new victim and all—and I'll avoid being questioned. Still, I'm sure he'll understand me not wanting to talk about it . . . I hope."

"Another thing, Hermione?"

"Daphne?"

"Who is Princess Hogwarts?"

"I'm Princess Hogwarts my dear," a non-descript sixth-year witch, in Hufflepuff robes, said, "My . . . Lady Avatar Hermione, you've been busy. Good choice though, Daphne really understands the political environment from a witch's perspective. I'm sure her knowledge—and other things—should prove quite helpful for you but hopefully not too distracting."

"Fiona!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Um, excuse me," Daphne began, "I thought you were in Slytherin Miss . . . Miss Fiona, I've seen you at our table and in our common room. Why are you wearing Badger's robes?"

"Wow, you're very astute, sweetie, I'm not usually noticed students; let alone students who recognize me enough to spot my uniform change," the Founder's daughter said, "I am Fiona—by the way—I'm not a student; I'm more an information gatherer for my parents, the soul-copies of the Founders Four. You've met three from what I understand. Anyways, I'm not supposed to be noticed; that's why I look like a plain old sixth year who no one pays attention to. My bother Peeves—yes that Peeves—uses misdirection more than subtly but he is the same as me. Since the Founders have no direct connections beyond these chambers, we keep them abreast of what is happening."

"If you're not supposed to be noticed then you're not doing a very good job of it," Daphne said surprisingly forthrightly.

"Harry and Hermione wanted us to keep an eye on you and Tracey; we've been their eyes and ears in Slytherin since the beginning of term," Fiona replied, "that has made us more noticeable because we've been around more regularly. Next time you see Peeves—since you know about us now—give him thanks; he intercepted a couple of very nasty situations and hexes that were more than just pranks. Draco may be as blustering as a Gryffindor but there are a few older Slytherins—and a couple of Ravenclaws—who would like to see a weakened Greengrass Family and willing to act for it."

Daphne grew pale and said, "I . . . I didn't know."

"You've got problems only two students know about, Daphne; I'm not surprised by your lack of situational awareness," Fiona stated, "Thank Harry too when you seem him later; he was worried about you and Tracy. He'll be even more protective, once he finds out about your . . . um . . . unique situation . . ."

". . . You're not going to tell him!" Daphne exclaimed in near panic.

"As long as the threat is not too great; I'll hold my tongue," Fiona assured, "but if me or Peeves ever think that your safety is beyond our ability to protect he will know. Actually, everything that happens to you is now Hermione's business and her authority extends to all current and former Slytherins; keep that in mind. She is your Liege-Lady now, as she is to every Slytherin who has ever walked these hallowed halls."

"Wh-what!" she exclaimed again, "Oh yeah, the Duchess of Slytherin thing."

"Kinda an unexpected secondary element, which no one thought to mention before I literally pledged my life to Slytherin and Hogwarts," Hermione said with annoyance, "Harry might be my master . . . um lord but I've been granted at least ceremonial authority over a quarter of Magical Britain. This was not mentioned in the Hogwarts' brochure that Professor McGonagall handed me on my eleventh birthday. Well, it's done now so I may as well do what Harry does; accept things as they happen, try to make the best of it and move on."

"Anyways," Fiona began, "Flitwick is heading to the Entry Hall as we speak. Thankfully, you needn't traverse the castle but you still need to move, Hermione. Is the Lady Heiress Presumptuous of House Greengrass remaining to my tender mercies or will she be joining you and Harry?"

"I . . . I'm going with her," Daphne said.

Fiona snickered and said, "Then you best dress, Professor Flitwick may not care if you two are in your underthings but Harry might."

Hermione and Daphne blushed at the thought of Harry seeing them like this but the idea didn't completely bother them; another indication of how much Daphne now owed Hermione but there was a time and place for everything: meeting the Head of Ravenclaw—ere the sun's rise—was not that time. With another snap of their fingers, Floozy and Notti clad their witches in their morning attire. Shiny silver with green stripes for the brunette and shiny green with silver stripes for the blonde and for all they were wearing 'work-out' clothes; it didn't mean they shouldn't look good for their wizard and tutor.

Dressed and shod—the young snake having never felt such comfortable shoes of her feet—Hermione led Daphne through the Patrons and Founders' chamber. She marveled at what she saw and Hermione had nearly as many problems getting Daphne beyond the chamber's library as Harry sometimes did with her. That made the young Gryffindor smile. Amazed, Daphne watch a wall go transparent and she found herself looking into the Entry Hall. Harry, his clothes similar to Hermione's and Daphne's, was waiting. With no one else visible, Hermione grasped the Slytherin's hand and pulled her through the wall. Daphne looked back; all she saw was the Hogwarts' crest on the wall. There was no evidence of what laid beyond and the young snake wondered how to get back in. She really wanted to browse that library and explore those chambers; there was obviously more than she had seen.

"Good morning Hermione; good morning Miss Greengrass, I wasn't expecting to see you this morning," Harry turned, greeting the two witches who had stepped through the crest. He added, "Nice outfits—matching—Professor Flitwick is going to be suspicious."

"Suspicious of what, Mr. Potter?" came a squeaky voice from the stairs; he turned and saw Hermione and Daphne dressed and ready for a work out. He said, "Ah, I see. I was not expecting to see you this early, Miss Greengrass; a guest of Miss Granger perhaps?"

"I . . . I suppose," Daphne replied, "they sort of helped me last night and Hermione asked me to join her; at least this morning. I hope this won't be an imposition Professor Flitwick; I was curious about what Harry and Hermione are really up to, beyond the obvious rumors."

"Indeed," the small professor said suspiciously, his eyebrows raised, "Should I ask how you and Miss Granger come to be here at the exact same time, Miss Greengrass? Neither of you arrived with Mr. Potter, I would've sensed you approach; you both just seemed to appear in my perception range, as if from nowhere."

Professor Flitwick's eyes danced from Harry to Hermione and then to Daphne, thankfully his heritage as one of The People kept him from asking further questions. He noticed an odd closeness between the two Gryffindors and one Slytherin—especially between Miss Granger and Miss Greengrass—and the few not fully healed scratches on the Slytherin's face suggested recent exposer to something unpleasant and dangerous. Since the only thing both unpleasant and dangerous had been the dead troll in the girl's loo, he knew there was a lot afoot.

Taking a chance on his deductive reasoning skills, the Head of Ravenclaw said, "A very interesting way to deal with a troll, very creative. A wonderful example of simplicity and keeping things within one's comfort zone; fancy magic doesn't necessitate a job well done. Truly tactical thinking, Lord Potter, I must congratulate you; a transient but extremely effective shrinking charm, accompanied by some form of transportation charm to the target so it can inhale the short-term dust. Yes very effective indeed and a grand instance of thinking outside of the box. Should I be awarding points, Lord Potter?"

Harry looked as if he was going to deny Professor Flitwick's assumptions; instead he replied, "I'd prefer nothing linking us to the troll, Professor; I'd appreciate it if you didn't award points that would raise questions."

"I will award a few extra points next time you perform well in my class," the half-goblin said with a smile. "I do want to know how you're all feeling about it though; in the end it was an effective but rather gruesome. Albus, not to mention Hagrid, were quite distraught that someone killed a quasi-sentient creature within the school."

"It . . . it would've killed me!" Daphne exclaimed.

"You know, Miss Greengrass, that is the most I've heard you say since you started attending my classes," the professor said, "How are you feeling!? Do I need to smuggle a few vials of calming draught from Madame Pomfrey's stores latter today? No matter the outcome, it had to be at least somewhat traumatic to three first years. By the way, Miss Granger, it seems you've had a bit of a growth spurt since Wednesday or am I mistaken?"

Hermione blushed and looked away as Harry replied, "I can't speak for Hermione or Miss Greengrass . . ."

"Lord Potter, please call me Daphne."

"Of course Daphne but I expect you to call me Harry, at least some of the time," stated the green-eyed wizard before continuing, "As I was about to say, I'm okay with what happened; it's not like I really had any choice but I'm worried about Hermione and Daphne. It wasn't a pretty sight."

"I . . . I didn't really see what happened, Harry; I sorta fainted and woke up somewhere . . . unexpected," she said, glancing at Hermione.

The bushy-haired Gryffindor blushed again but managed, "I . . . I think Daph and I will be okay; we . . . er . . . burned through the tension we felt. I . . . I think we're both feeling reasonably . . . um . . . relaxed, this morning."

Harry looked at the two witches oddly; Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows. Hermione grew redder and Daphne's took on a similar hue.

"Well, then Miss Granger; Miss Greengrass," said the Head of Ravenclaw, his heritage once more showing, "what shall I do with our young Slytherin guest, this morning? Miss Greengrass?"

"I . . . I was curious," Daphne stammered.

"Professor Flitwick," Hermione began, "I don't want to impose—you've been very good about your time and all—but I was wondering if you might give Daphne a general fitness evaluation."

"Hmm . . . I suppose I can do that, Miss Granger," replied the professor, "let's head to my dueling hall this morning. I don't like sleet and it's not conducive to any type of training, really; especially at Miss Greengrass' likely level. I don't want you two getting sick either. You and Mr. Potter are familiar with the routine so I'll trust your efforts without needing supervision. After the calisthenics, please practice your forms. Depending on the time, I may have you two doing some two-step sparing; I'm sure Miss Greengrass will find that fascinating, at least I hope she does."

"Yes Professor," Harry and Hermione said in unison; then Hermione added, "thank you professor."

"Don't thank me, Miss Granger," he replied, "Perhaps adding a Slytherin to the morning routine might encourage a few more to start attending. Teaching a few is no more difficult than teaching two, really; as long as it's not more than a handful of two. Let's go then."

Daphne, Hermione and Harry followed Professor Flitwick to his dueling hall. He unlocked the door and held it open. Harry and Hermione headed to an open area; the Head of Ravenclaw said, "follow me, Miss Greengrass; let's see what sort of shape you're in."

"Yes Professor," the Slytherin said demurely, thankful for Professor Flitwick's smaller stature; it made him less intimidating but she could sense the power beyond his appearance.

"First, I would like to cast a few diagnostic spells, Miss Greengrass; if you don't mind."

"O-Okay Professor Flitwick," she replied uncertainly.

"Miss Greengrass . . ."

". . . Professor?"

"Thanks to my contacts at Gringotts; I have some knowledge of what happened last spring," he said gravely, "I would really like to help you and if you agree to my tutorage; you'll never be so helpless again: with or without a wand. Young Lord Potter and Lady Granger—yes, I'm aware of her rank—have a very difficult future ahead of them. They understand this, which is why they work so hard. I know there are things happening behind the scenes, things that even I don't know but I get the feeling you just ended up in the middle of it.

"Regardless, if you're not prepared, you will die; plain and simple. Such concepts are a fact of life for Goblins—or half-goblins in my case—and a fact of life for young Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I want to ensure that you understand, just being associated with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger will see you become a target as they challenge the status quo; I don't mind helping—Merlin knows that the status quo needs changing—but I need you to understand the risks. Now, my dear, I'm fairly familiar with your family but I need to consider your father's opinion in anything you decide. Do you understand?"

"I do Professor Flitwick," she relied standing straight and her shoulders back, "I know I have to speak to my father but I suspect I won't see him till the Yule break; I also suspect that waiting is not an option I should entertain. I've recently come into possession of information that supports much of what my father has said. I don't really like the idea of 'Fate' but I can feel her subtle hand on my shoulder. I think I've found where I need to be and that's beside Hermione and her place at Lord Potter's side; I feel very close to the center. I just hope that Tracey and her family can accept the danger if they choose to stand by my family in what appears on the horizon."

"I'm not going to ask why you've suddenly become so bold and lucent, Miss Greengrass," he said, "but I'm glad to see it. I taught both of your parents and—in all honestly—you were not their daughter until this morning. Again, I understand but I'm certainly glad you've changed; you will honor your parents by maintaining this you. I think they'll be glad that you've found a place to be; I only hope your family's ally, the Davises, can understand the path you're treading."

"Thank you, Professor," Daphne said, her confident tone encouraging, "Tracey and I have been together all our lives; her mother and my mother were our wet-nurses, we suckled at the same breasts. That is a bond transcending friendship; we are sisters in all but blood: just as Tracey's father is my father's brother in all but blood. We are—for all intents—one family; we will stick together and we're all smart enough to feel the breeze now blowing."

Professor Flitwick studied the Greengrass Heiress before saying, "I think you association with Miss Granger and your association with Mr. Potter by extension has been the best thing that has happened to you Miss Greengrass but don't forget you sister—in all but blood—Tracey. Do not leave her behind; nothing good comes from siblings who become enemies. If you decide to come back—after this morning—please bring her with you, Professor Snape has mentioned the faction that has grown around her; you will need that faction beside you too, as will Lord Potter and his Prime Lady, Miss Granger. Now, are you ready to submit for assessment?"

"I am Professor," she replied and Professor Flitwick did not doubt her intent.

Very interesting, he thought. Lady Granger, you've found perhaps your biggest ally beyond your Patron. Let us hope that this relationship remains fruitful as Clustebrood Potter take shape. I see a coven on the horizon; I wonder how big the core will be. Two for now, that's for certain but Griphook has told me about Lady Granger's sister and their friend Luna Lovegood—who'd think a Fae was still incarnate on this plane?—and I think The Nation will be near the core too. Griphook mentioned Vaultlord Goldenfang's assistant, Silkenrobe, and the way she looks at Lord Potter. She is getting on well with both Danielle Granger-Black and Lady-fae Luna, too, and has become their prime tutor. I suppose Silkenrobe is in good company, the Overlord's youngest wives—from what I've been told—have developed more than a passing seed-transaction fancy in Clusterbrood Granger/Granger-Black. Who would imagine that the former Lady Malfoy nee Black would be a willing participant in that?

Still, it seems she is as much part of the negotiations between Broods, if not more so, than Lady Regent Granger herself, he silently carried on, I wonder if it will go both ways; if it does, who will bear the child of the Overlord's blood? Both females sound as if they have qualities that Overlord Ragnok would like to bring to the Nation but it's rare for a human female too willingly know a Goblin male; few are can tolerate—let alone welcome—the rougher coupling. There's a reason such things occur between human male and she-goblin—instead of the other way—as they do, my parents are proof of that. Still, if Griphook's assessment is correct, both the Lady Regent and the Lady Matriarch have tastes more akin to The Nation's she-goblins; I wonder if the young Lady Granger shares such leanings. I think young Lady Greengrass does but I'd be speculating; we've heard of her curse but the Lord Greengrass has not been forthcoming: not that I can blame him.

"Professor?" said the young Slytherin, interrupting Filius reflection.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Greengrass, I was thinking," he said, "shall we get on with this?"

"Yes Professor," she replied and the Charms' Professor began casting some complicated spells. After the spells, he asked Daphne to perform a series of activities that the young Slytherin soon found difficult and tiring.

—}{—

Hermione and Harry had tried to work without distraction, but their eyes kept falling on the blonde Slytherin who kept being asked to try more and more difficult things. Daphne was sweating and panting but Professor had not let up as he pushed the Greengrass Heiress to the edge of magical and physical exhaustion. As the two Gryffindors completed the last of their exercises and finished their set practice, Professor Flitwick called them over.

"I've assessed your friend, Miss Granger; Mr. Potter, and have found that while her aerobic fitness is little above par for most witches and wizards," he reported, "her anaerobic fitness is a little below par, for the average witch and wizard. I suggest that Miss Greengrass begins a routine of strengthen potions and strength training, if she's so inclined. I've also measured her Magical Potential. While not as high as yours, Miss Granger, or Mr. Potter's it is still above average; unfortunately Miss Greengrass has been self-suppressing herself to an unhealthy degree and risks crimping her usable potential. For now, the most important thing Miss Greengrass needs is self-confidence. I can't train confidence, it's something that comes from inside but it can be encouraged. She is far far better than she was—from what I can tell—so whatever you did to her, Miss Granger; keep doing it."

Hermione and Daphne reddened again as they considered what Professor Flitwick was asking. It wasn't as if they would mind the extra exercise but the nature of the exercise was something they didn't wish to discuss with their Charms' Professor or Harry for that matter, at least not yet.

The professor continued, "However you do it, she'll be more successful magically and physically without the self-doubt; let that be an incentive for you two but I'd better not find you falling asleep in classes. While I might understand; others will not and I'm sure you don't want issues that the Headmaster might hear or pursue. With that in mind, I'd also suggest beginner's Occlumency for the three of you; your minds need to be as strong as your bodies."

The Head of Ravenclaw eyed the two witches, as if he had an idea of what had happened between them, thankfully, Harry—like any preteen and then some wizard—was oblivious to the unspoken implications. He didn't understand his witch's and her friend's flushed cheeks either.

"Professor," Harry said, "I've had occlumency lessons and, while my shields might not keep out a skilled legilimens face to face, I can stop more than a passive or casual scan. I'm working on improving my skills, though; the Headmaster's regular attempts to passively or casually read me have allowed for a fair bit of practice in a practical environment. At least Professor Snape has stopped; I haven't had to worry about him for a while."

Professor Flitwick looked angry and said, "You should not have to practice your skills in that manner, Mr. Potter and the Headmaster knows that even passive Legilimency is—at best—frowned upon and 'causal' boarders on illegal when used on scions and the heirs of Noble Houses. That aside . . ."

". . . Professor Flitwick," Hermione began, "I've been told I'm a natural Occlumens and have been practicing to hone and tighten my skills. Still, I'd love to hear of any exercises that might help me improve. What about you, Daph?"

The bushy-haired witch's use of a shortened name and the casual addressing of their Slytherin guest spoke volumes about the relationship that had developed between the two. It surprised Professor Flitwick as did Miss Greengrass' sudden emergence from the shell, which had guarded her since the beginning of term. His witch's closeness to the girl in silver and green was something Harry didn't want to focus on at the moment; he knew something had happened between yesterday evening and this morning when they both appeared from the Patrons and Founders' Chamber and standing very close to each other. There was an obvious shift in the relationship dynamics between Hermione and the young Slytherin that he'd have to think about. I must find some time to spend in my dad's outside this weekend; I need to speak to him since I doubt I'll be seeing Mr. Granger anytime soon; though I think—in this case—Hermione's dad might be the most helpful.

Daphne glanced at her feet and said, "Um . . . part of the curse prevents me from revealing secrets to people, even those I'm not bound to; I've got one active bond, it was . . . necessary . . ."

"Well then," the Head of Ravenclaw said a little awkwardly, "that's all well and good but it never hurts to keep one's mind well ordered, does it now? It helps keep debilitating emotions, like fear or anger and what not, at bay so that you can focus rationally on circumstances. A well-ordered mind was one of my greatest strengths when I was on the dueling circuit and my ability to keep others from getting under my skin was nearly as important as my wand work. Well, I suppose you three need to get back to your dorms and prepare for the rest of your day."

"Thank you, professor," Harry and Hermione said, "we'll see you Monday morning."

Filius Flitwick nodded and looked at Daphne Greengrass. He asked, "And what of you Miss Greengrass? I'd like to see you too Monday morning but I'm not going to push you, the choice must be yours. If you've any questions, I'll be in the castle all weekend. If you need to talk, you can find me in my office unless I'm overseeing a tutoring session with my Ravens. If I'm not in my office, you can leave a note in the box by my door; I check that frequently."

"Th-thank you professor," the Slytherin replied shyly, "I . . . I will let you know about Monday. C-Can I b-bring another?"

"No more than one or two," he replied, "I have my duties as a professor to stay on top of and that must be my primary focus; I am the Charms' Professor and Head of Ravenclaw first. I must see to those duties before I can allow myself the pleasure of helping young witches and wizards with things that are not—but should be—mandated by the Hogwarts' curriculum. Perhaps in a couple of years you, Mr. Potter and Miss. Granger could start a club; I'd be happy to be the advisor."

"A club?" Hermione and Harry said.

"Of course but unless you can find a third-year or higher to head it; you'll have to wait until your third year to run one yourself," he replied, "Running a club is a very big positive to any who wish to become prefects; it shows that a student is responsible, helpful and capable of motivating others. Very important traits for a prefect; now off with the three of you: I doubt anyone will appreciate the aroma of unwashed witches or wizards at breakfast of in class."

"Yes professor," the three said in unison, an interesting synchronization the Charms' Professor noticed but didn't comment as he led the three from his Dueling Hall. Very interesting, he thought, I'll need to drop the Overlord a note; I think another is about to come under Gringotts' extra tutoring and the Greengrass family is well renowned by most of the Grey Faction and a fair few of the Light Faction in the Wizengamot. He watched the three depart for their respective dorms and then headed for his own chambers. He figured he should talk to Severus—as Miss Greengrass' in loco parentis and Head of House—at breakfast and let him know what his young snake might be getting up to, with whom and for what reasons. I wonder if Miss Davis will express any interest or desire in joining her very close friend. She's under Mr. Potter's protection already and allied with House Granger too; she's currently wearing both of their heraldries whether in ally or in 'protected' placement.

—}{—

Descending the stairs to the Slytherin dorms, Daphne felt the cool clamminess of the dungeons settle into her body. She shivered and picked up her pace; she really wanted—needed—a hot shower for both her stiff muscles and ridding herself of that uncomfortable sticky and sweaty feeling. She traversed the last dimly lit corridor and reached the entrance of her dorm. One password later, she had stepped into the Slytherin Common room; her entrance was greeted by the glances of a few fifth and seventh year students getting an early start on their OWL or NEWT homework. A few looked at her with interest—a first year entering the dorm at this time warranted a little curiosity—but they had their own lives and studies to worry about. Either way, the action of a first year could not be allowed to interfere with their grand ambitions unless it was 'blackmail' worthy or might confer some advantage. They dismissed Daphne offhandedly , figuring she had likely spent the night in the infirmary with the sniffles or something like that. She was just a first-year after all, what might a first year be doing that would warrant further attention; even when it was the Noble House of Greengrass' heiress? Thankful that none of the older students thought her worthy of attention, Daphne crossed the Common Room and headed to the dorm she shared with Tracey. She opened the door and stepped in.

"Where were you all night, Daphne!" Miss Davis nearly yelled as her dorm-mate entered; Tracey had dark circles under her eyes, "I no sooner get back to the dorms, after the whole 'troll in the dungeon' thing, and some sixth year I've never seen before shows up in our dorm and tells me you wouldn't be returning till this morning. I thought you were in the Infirmary at first but no; this sixth year casts some sneaky simulacrum spell on your bed and then leaves. That tells me that wherever you are is not somewhere that you should be or are authorized to be overnight! She didn't even tell me her name!

"Do you know how disturbing it is trying to sleep in the same room with some creepy thing that looks just like the person you love?" She said without stopping for breath, "It even snored the way you do! Not only that but not even five minutes ago the thing melted into a puddle of goo, which then evaporated without leaving even the smallest residue to prove it was there! What happened to you? I told Potter and Granger you were missing but I hoped I'd find you when I got back after the feast; you weren't here!"

"I! Want! To! Know! I deserve to know; I can't help or protect you if you're not here! Do you have any idea how pissed off your father would be if he found out?"

"I . . . I spent last night with Hermione," Daphne said apologetically but not nearly as diminutively as was her usual nature; her angry roommate didn't notice.

"Granger!" Tracy exclaimed, "Who helped you with your . . . problem? Not Granger, she's nice and all but she's a goody-two-shoed Gryffindor and a muggle-born too boot! And when did she become 'Hermione'?"

"Tracey stop!" she ordered; Daphne the Heiress of Greengrass made a startling re-appearance. "Things happened last night."

"What things?" her roommate exclaimed.

The Greengrass Heiress took a calming breath and said, "This falls under our consort bond, Tracey. Granger has friends who know things and showed Hermione how to help me in a way you couldn't. I've not felt this clear or focused in ages and it's because of Hermione and her friends. I feel like I did before, no better than I felt before; everything suddenly feels positive again. I never thought I'd feel like this again and if it wasn't Friday; I'd spend the day in bed with you to show you how thankful I am that you kept me going long enough for last night to happen. If you only knew . . ."

"Knew what!"

"Granger is not like we—or any but a few in Hogwarts—thought she was," Daphne replied.

"Okay . . . so she's not the brown-nosed prudish know-it-all we thought she was," Tracey said, "So what is she then? A slag who's bedding Potter and now you; in hopes of advancing herself?"

Daphne took two steps towards her roommate and slapped her—unbelievably hard—on the face. She growled angrily, "You do not know what you're talking about Tracey; I can't believe you'd say something like that either. Are you jealous or something?"

Clutching her face, Tracey never thought that Daphne could hit her and the anger radiating from her friend was not something she was prepared for.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Tracey," Daphne apologized, "I should've have struck you but you made me so angry. Potter and Granger saved me last night; that troll you were talking about was about to kill me when they showed up. Potter killed it—a full-grown mountain troll—in the girls' loo on the first floor. I've never seen anything like it. The next thing I remember is waking up somewhere else and meeting people who know more than any of the mind-healers or curse experts I've seen since June . . . combined. When I woke up this morning, everything made sense again and Hermione knew exactly what I needed and how to help me. On top of that, Granger is not just some 'muggle-born'. She is connected to the Wizarding World at the highest level, a level that even as the Greengrass Heiress I am not. She has Potter as a patron and she is the Matriarch of her own Noble House because Harry . . ."

". . . Harry?" Tracey asked, her eyebrows rising.

"Yes Harry! He made a mistake and somehow formed a new House," she continued with surprising affinity for the two Gryffindors, "Hermione's House. Not only that, Hermione has what she calls her second-mother . . ."

". . . Second-mother?"

"Yes . . . second-mother!" Daphne was getting irritated again, "Her second-mother is Lady Malfoy; the former Lady Malfoy that is. That connects her to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. What type of pedigree is that? Not only that, Danielle Malfoy is Hermione's half-sister; they have the same father. We know how powerful Hermione is, we've seen it in class; we know how powerful Danielle is from how the great ponce—Draco Malfoy—tries to avoid upsetting his sister. It all makes much more sense now."

"I-I'm sorry Daphne; I-I just a-assumed . . ."

"Don't assume Tracey," she said rather supportively, "Never assume when it comes to those two. I didn't know how much was happening around them but it's very important. I don't want to lose you, Tracey, and I think you could get on with at least Hermione at a level you'd not suspect but things are happening. Things that as a half-blood—sorry, you know I hate mentioning that—are very important to you, even more so than to me. We—as in Magical England—have been way too ignorant and complacent; thinking ourselves superior, our time is running out. I want—no I need—you by my side Tracey but it means you have to begin looking at things differently, very differently. The days of the Malfoys and their ilk are gone or will be soon; a new age is upon us. I love you Tracey—spell weaves notwithstanding—and I need you. There is a lot at stake, I can tell, but it doesn't come without risk. I want to face it with you and I'm sure you, me, Hermione—and Potter—will have fun together. Don't let me leave you behind; I don't want to leave you behind."

"Wh-what happened to you Daphne?" Tracey asked.

"I . . . I've been given purpose beyond being a baby-machine for House Greengrass," she said very startlingly and without any shame, "Be more than a baby-machine for House Davis, Tracey; this is an offer that will make our lives meaningful; let's embrace it. Now, I need a shower; Professor Flitwick can be a bit of a taskmaster but that's important too, you'll see. Let's go, I promise I'll work out the tension you are feeling because of last night and I intend to show you how thankful I am this weekend. You've always being by my side and have been my 'helper': I hope we don't have too much homework this weekend."

Daphne took a dumbfounded Tracey's hand and led her to their shower. It might not be as nice or as big as Hermione's but Daphne like being this close to her friend who had offered so much of herself. The Greengrass Heiress, doing her best to appease her dorm-mate's anxiety over the previous , intimately washed her best friend in a manner that promised a very interesting weekend and both wished it was Saturday morning already.

"Tracey," Daphne said as they dried themselves after a rather heated shower, "I think I'm going to joinHermione and Potter in their . . . er . . . morning dance instruction with Professor Flitwick; I'd really like it if you'd come too. I was with them this morning and discovered quite a few things about myself, things that are very important. I'm sure you'd feel the same way if you came and it'll be a chance for you to really get to know Hermione and Potter."

"Of course I'll be there, Daph; I can't look out for you if I'm not there," she replied, "and since it sounds like you intend to spend time with Granger—beyond class and studying—I need to make sure nothing untoward is happening to you. We can't have the Heiress of a Noble House falling under the allures of a witch only recently joining our society and Potter is still a wizard after all."

—}{—

Albus Dumbledore had spent the day after Halloween running around and trying to find out how his positon as Headmaster was being undermined. He had yet to discover whose seat was now at the end of the Slytherin table; especially considering it looked so critically towards the Head Table and his place at its center. He had asked Severus if he knew why the 'Throne of Slytherin' had reappeared—not that he let him know it was a reappearance—and asked if he knew who the seat might answer to; even if just a rumor. His Potions' Master had been less than helpful and when Professor Snape had asked why a single seat in the Great Hall was so important Albus Dumbledore' evasiveness reached new heights. Obviously, House Slytherin was hiding its heir but of the illustrious families that counted amongst its members, Albus was unable to figure out who it might be. The Headmaster was worried that it might be the Malfoy boy or one of his ilk, even with House Malfoy losing some of its luster, a Malfoy Heir—or any of his circle for that matter—to Slytherin's Throne was not something that boded well for the 'Greater Good'.

On top of the Great Hall's addition, Albus also had the matter of finding a dead mountain-troll left gruesomely dead on the floor of the girls' loo holding his attention. He had no idea who had killed the creature and shared his grounds-keeper's remorse over its death but remorse wouldn't find its killer. He knew one of his professors could dispatch a full-grown troll—Severus especially came to mind—without a horrible amount of effort but they were all accounted for. That left maybe a seventh-year, knowledgeable in the Dark Arts, as the possible culprit but none—in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw—came to mind.

The Headmaster glanced at Professor Flitwick but the half-goblin was as inscrutable as ever, although recently the half-breed and Professor Snape had become a lot closer. It was as if they shared a newfound respect or secret with each other and Albus didn't understand. he'd always tried to keep Severus distant from his co-faculty but something had eroded the gap recently. He suspected it somehow related to Harry and that Granger witch of his—she was definitely bad for young Harry, Ron Weasley would be a much better friend—but the two had grown inseparable.

Grown inseperable? He thought with annoyance as he tried to eat his supper, they've been inseparable since they arrived and they have forged relationships with some very key heirs, Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom no less, he considered. The Greengrass Heiress—she's in Slytherin for Merlin's sake—and that Davis bint of hers; who, for some reason, is wearing Potter Heraldry, are all far too close to Harry and may be leading him astray with Granger's help. I've spoken to Minerva but she's not being overly co-operative lately and seems to think Harry doesn't need my 'meddling guidance'—as she put it—and told me to leave her cubs alone. They've all forgotten how much they owe me for the sacrifices I've made for the 'Greater Good'?

Albus Dumbledore's day suddenly grew worse when Lord Greengrass stepped into the Great Hall; he looked very angry.

"Dumbledore!" the Lord Greengrass exclaimed, "What are you doing with this school of yours? I will speak to you in private and will meet you at your office. Do not keep me waiting! Daphne, come here!"

Worried, both the Headmaster and the first-year Slytherin rose from their tables. Using a side entrance, Albus slipped from the Great Hall as Daphne rose and attended her father. The overwhelming silence in the Great Hall only broke when Harry and Hermione also rose; their actions fueling rumor and speculation since such a relationship between members of opposing houses was generally unheard of but students knew the three were commonly seen together. The Gryffindors arrived at nearly the same time as Daphne reached her father; Tracy knew it was best to remain seated and silently wished her friend luck.

"Lord Greengrass," Harry began formally in a quiet voice; he wasn't cowering beneath Lord Greengrass' glare either, "allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Harry of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. My companion is the Lady Matriarch of the Noble House of Granger. Once you have finished with the Headmaster, I expect you to attend me—with Daphne—we have matters of House to discuss. We will await your return on completing your business with Dumbledore. Please do not let him know we are meeting; my companion and I will wait, here, in the Entry Hall."

"Why you little whelp; how dare you speak to me . . ." he began but the boy—of a very illustrious and aristocratic family—pulsed his mien and looked at the older Lord in a manner that reminded Hiram Greengrass of Charlus Potter. The bushy-haired witch by his side, who wasn't familiar and of a family he didn't know, seemed no less daunting. Unnerved, Lord Greengrass tried to assess the situation but all he could see was his daughter's sudden leap in confidence and her deference to her Gryffindor year-mate and witch. Unable to stop himself, he said, "I'm sorry Lord Potter, we will make time for you and you companion. I did not know that the Potter Family's Heir had ascended to his Lordship. You are quite young, My Lord, as are you Lady Matriarch. I feel there is a story here that I need to hear. Please forgive my impudence towards your illustrious selves; I was caught unprepared. I assure you we will return once my business with the Headmaster is concluded."

Stunned, Daphne looked at her father; she had never seen nor had ever expected to see him apologize in this manner. The fact that Hermione and Harry were her year-mates made the whole encounter seem surreal.

"We are looking forward to it Lord Greengrass," Hermione spoke for Harry as she—for the first time—exercised her Lady Matriarch's prerogative to a peer of rank.

Not knowing what to say beyond 'thank you' he turned to his daughter as they walked away and said, "Let's go see the Headmaster, Daphne; it seems that you've been up to more than just you education in the two months since you arrived. Is Tracey in as deep as you, I heard she came under our young Lord Potter's protection at the beginning of term; she appears to have positioned herself quite admirably for one of her blood-standing but somehow I feel you are in deeper. I received some interesting correspondence this morning regarding you; we will need to rethink many things and I do hope you have not weakened our family's position any more than what Malfoy did to us earlier. I hope our young Lord Potter is not the type to take advantage of such situations; it's not like a Potter to do so but you never know. What is your relationship to that young Lady Matriarch?"

Daphne blushed.

"I see," her father said, "and what of Tracey? Our families are inexorably linked now; as both her father and I sought to protect you and satisfy your needs. I value that relationship and hope you've not put it at risk. Are you and Tracey getting on well and how does this Lady Matriarch fit into what we've arranged? Is Lady Granger or Lord Potter aware of the curse?"

"Hermione . . . I mean Lady Granger found out last night," she replied, "I spoke to Tracey this morning but we've not had time to truly discuss it but my feelings—if anything—are now stronger towards Tracey because I feel more confident. How this will play out, father, I can't say but Hermione . . . I mean Lady Granger is different and for all she is of muggle-descent she is linked to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black in an unexpected manner. She has a sister and a woman she calls a second-mother, I was very surprised but when you look at Hermione . . . I mean the Lady Matriarch it is quite obvious once you know."

Hiram Greengrass looked thoughtful for a moment as he digested what Daphne said. Suddenly he exclaimed, "By Merlin! Danielle Malfoy and . . . and the Lady Malfoy! You . . . you speak of them, don't you, but how: why? It was Potter who neutered Lucius Malfoy and his brat, wasn't it? I heard there was another involved but the rumors are vague and fanciful; do you know of this?"

"Not yet father but I feel Hermione . . . I mean the Lady Matriarch and her family are involved in an unexpected way," she replied, "I've yet to have an opportunity to pursue or explore such things. If I can, I will tell you all I know father but I feel there may be things I'll not be able to discuss, even with family. I do know there is a lot happening and Potter—I mean Lord Potter—and Lady Hermione are in or are at the midst of it. I think we need to formerly enter into negotiations with House Potter . . ."

Daphne's father suddenly gave his daughter and odd look; he seemed quite surprised—considering his daughter's feelings on such things since what happened—and had not expected this.

"I'm not talking about that . . . at least not yet," Daphne said, "I barely know Harry . . . I mean Lord Potter and a lot would depend of his Lady Matriarch too, I'm sure."

"His Lady Matriarch?" Lord Greengrass asked suspiciously, "What has my darling stumbled into?"

"I . . . I think a good place, father, but everything is still at the beginning," she replied as they walked, "The Lord and Lady have some powerful but unexpected allies here at Hogwarts; it's almost like the stuff of legends. They and Hermione . . . I mean Lady Granger know about my . . . um . . . needs; they did not shy away or shun me because of them. I don't think Lord Potter will either."

"Well at least I'm thankful for one thing, precious," said Hiram Greengrass said as the approached a gargoyle that sat oddly by the wall, mid-way down a corridor.

"Father?"

"Your unfortunate curse protects your mind from just about all forms of intrusion and control," he stated, "We should be thankful that the bond between you and Tracey protects her as well. I am worried about Lord Potter and this Lady Granger though."

"I don't think we have to worry," the young Slytherin said, "they are both under the tutorage of Professor Flitwick and already have rudimentary—at least—Occlumency Shields. I think I'm going to join them starting Monday, I hope Tracey will come too."

"And what are you going to learn in the tutorage, dear?"

"It would be about physical fitness and self-defense training in the Goblin style father," Daphne reported, "that's what Hermione . . . I mean Lady Granger told me. I watched her and Lord Potter this morning; most of Hogwarts seem to think it's some weird form of dance instruction and while I'm sure it will make them better dancers it's not what it's all about."

"You've been offered a chance to tutor with a world-renowned duller and well know practitioner of Goblin Arts," said Hiram Greengrass, "I'm glad you are seriously considering it; it's not an opportunity that appears very often. I will speak to Tracey's father, if she is even a bit equivocal I'm sure he can convince her. Such skills, no matter what one's future may hold, are invaluable and not lightly passed upon. Now, precious, set yourself; we are about to enter the lair of one with far too much power and far too little oversight. I will speak for our family; you need not answer any questions but mine."

"Yes father, I understand."

"Good," he said and called out, "Headmaster I am here with my daughter, please open the way."

Once Lord Greengrass announced their arrival, the Gargoyle sifted to the side and revealed a spiral staircase. They stepped onto the first step and slowly the stairs began revolving and lifting under their feet. Once the rotation finished, Lord Greengrass and his daughter found themselves facing a solid and highly polished oak door, with a large brass knocker. He reached for the knocker but as he did the door swung open.

"Come in, come in Hiram my lad," they heard the Headmaster invite, "What a pleasure to see you and you're wonderful daughter, the pride of Slytherin I'm sure, knocking at my door . . ."

"Dispense with the pleasantries, Dumbledore," he retorted, "I'm neither a lad nor yours; I am here for one reason and one reason only . . ."

". . . and what reason is that, Lord Greengrass?" asked the Headmaster in rude interruption.

"I want to know," Daphne's father and Lord Greengrass stated, "how my daughter—in what is touted as the safest place in all of Magical Britain—somehow ended up in a Life Debt to one Harry Potter and an unknown witch by the name of Hermione Granger? What kind of school are you running here, Dumbledore, which sees the daughter of a Noble House becoming indentured not only to the scion of a noble house but to a witch of muggle descent as well?"

Stunned, Albus Dumbledore had not expected this meeting but at least he had an idea where his dead troll had come from, not that he understood how. Other than his staff, he didn't think anyone in the castle could defeat a troll so efficiently or be as brutally. He knew Harry knew more than he had expected but able to defeat a troll. That was hard to comprehend; even the Great Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to defeat a mountain-troll in his first year. There was a lot more happening then he ever expected. On top of that, no matter how hard he tried, Harry Potter had rebuffed his efforts at becoming a grandfather figure and his attempts to arrange the right sort of friends had failed too. Instead, Harry ignored the Headmaster's concerns. He had surrounded himself with a muggle-born witch of no renown and then three scions from families he had little influence with. That the head of one of these families was now on the other side of his desk and demanding answers, which Albus didn't possess; was not a position the Headmaster found comfortable.

"Now, now Hiram my lad," Lord Greengrass scowled when he heard that. He hadn't liked Dumbledore when he had been a student and his feelings hadn't changed. The Headmaster continued, "I'm sure there must be some sort of mistake. A 'life debt' is—I'm sure—an exaggeration. Whatever at Hogwarts could even precipitate such a thing?"

"Goblins don't exaggerate, Dumbledore," he growled, "and I received notification of this debt from the office of Vaultlord Goldenfang. He is one of the highest ranking Vaultlords at Gringotts, are you suggesting he made a mistake? Goblins don't make mistakes of that nature and you know it. So, I ask again: What is going on here? My daughter—my heir—is now essentially owned, jointly, by a witch and a wizard; if I didn't have another daughter the Greengrass family would be standing on the brink of extinction."

"Please, Lord Greengrass, Harry is an upstanding young wizard and I've heard nothing negative about Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied, "I'm sure all we need to do is ask them to release young Daphne here and I'm sure your family's future will be just fine. I'd gladly facilitate your concerns with both of my students; I'm sure we can reach an accord that is mutually beneficial and I will then get right on talking to the two young Gryffindors. Of course, I'd like to know how this odd situation came about; Miss Greengrass . . ."

"Dumbledore, my daughter has nothing to say to you," Hiram Greengrass sneered, "Now, what happened last night or are you not aware of what happens in your own school; if I didn't have to deal with Malfoy I'd be speaking to the board and not you. So, what happened?"

The Headmaster looked as if he was trying to avoid and evade the question but the look on the Lord's face denied any reasonably possibility. At last, Albus said nearly too quiet to hear, "A troll somehow got into the castle last night but I can't see how that relates to either your daughter or the life-debt she accrued. It was dead when we found it and only my staff and I were present at the time; we didn't see your daughter or any students for that matter and that corridor is rather devoid of hiding spots."

Hiram Greengrass glanced at his daughter and then back to the Headmaster. He said crossly, "Are you trying to tell me that a troll got into Hogwarts last night and the fact that my daughter now owes life debts are not related? Do you take me for a fool! How was the troll killed; can you at least tell me that?"

"Well not precisely, Lord Greengrass," the Headmaster seemed on the verge of waffling, "Madame Pomfry examined the poor creature, when we found it and discovered that a large amount of ceramic sink debris was lodged in its nose, mouth, throat and lungs; we have no idea how it all got there but the sharp pieces lacerated those areas quite extensively. We are not even sure if the troll died of blood loss or asphyxiation. It was a gruesome sight; can Daphne shed any light . . ."

". . . We are finished here, Headmaster; please excuse us," Lord Greengrass said, "Daphne, let's go; it seems our illustrious Headmaster is unable to shed any light on our unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps another avenue of investigation will prove more fruitful. Good evening Headmaster, please contact me if you learn anything and expect a letter from my lawyers."

Hiram and Daphne Greengrass turned smartly and left the Headmaster's office. As the door closed, Albus Dumbledore summoned a bottle of firewhisky and a large tumbler. The glass had already reached his lips by the time he heard his door latch. This was definitely a very bad day but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out where it all went wrong; last night's dead troll notwithstanding.

—}{—

Exiting the Headmaster's office and riding the stairs down to the seventh floor, Hiram Greengrass and his daughter stepped past the gargoyle. It shifted, blocking the previously traveled passage as Daphne and her father strode down the hall, their footsteps echoing as they went.

"So, precious," he began, "can you shed some light on what is happening before attending Lord Potter's summons."

"I think even I can only give you partial answers, father," she replied, "I don't wish to sound disrespectful but I believe it would be better if we waited. Lord Potter and Hermione . . . I mean Lady Granger will be better able to answer your questions."

"Hermione, eh?" Hiram said, "You've become close—very close—to a witch from another House; so I want to know how close? Yours and Tracey's situation is understandable; the involvement of another first-year witch makes me uncomfortable, especially one who is not bound to protect your secret in any way."

Daphne bushed and said, "I don't think things are as bad as you suspect father; actually I know they're not."

"I suppose I will hold my opinion until I know more, my dear; I'm still very concerned."

The remainder of their walk was conducted in silence as both considered the implications of what they were facing as a family. They arrived back in the Entry Hall and were thankful that everyone was still at dinner; they wished for as few eyes as possible on the meeting they were about to attend. Glancing around, they finally saw Lord Potter standing by the Hogwarts' Crest.

"Lord Potter," Lord Greengrass spoke.

Harry nodded and replied, "Lord Greengrass. Thank you for respecting my summons, I'd understand if you are feeling uncomfortable, I'm merely an eleven-year-old Gryffindor still ignorant of the ways of the adult world."

The smile that followed Harry's egregious statement went a long way to lighten the dire mood but Hiram Greengrass remained—as would any self-respecting Slytherin—suspicious.

"I do hope you are not wasting my time, Lord Potter," he stated firmly.

"I assure you," replied the young Gryffindor, "your time will not be wasted but these are matters best not spoken in public. Shall we retire to the Chambers; Lady Granger is waiting in the meeting room."

"Chambers?" Lord Greengrass asked looking around; all he saw was the school crest at Harry's back. Daphne smirked but he wasn't paying attention to his daughter, the young Lord was far more interesting at the moment.

"Please follow," Harry said with a smile, turned and stepped through the Hogwarts' Heraldry.

"Let's go, daddy," Daphne said, sounding much like the little girl Hiram once bounced on his knee. She gave her father a little push and together they followed the young Gryffindor.

Wide-eyed, Lord Greengrass looked around a room he had never known existed. It was like a House common room but somehow cozier and nearly every inch of available wall space was covered with shelves—many sagging from weight and time—stuffed with books; some of which looked far older than those found in the Hogwarts' Library. Once his eyes took in those details, he noticed Lord Potter standing by a set of double doors.

"Welcome to the Patrons and Founders' Chambers, Lord Greengrass," Harry said, "I am Lord Harry of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter; I am also the Patron Potter of Gryffindor, amongst other things. These are our private chambers and you are only the fourth person to enter these rooms in many years. Lady Granger is waiting for us, just through here."

The messy-haired wizard opened the door and bowed Lord Greengrass and his daughter into the room beyond the door. He closed the door behind himself and followed the two. Both looked about a room that was dominated by a large pentagonal table and eyed the four life-sized unidentified portraits on the facing walls. Standing in front of a picture bearing the image of an elegant and well dressed man in silver and green; Hermione stood in her new Slytherin dress robes. She was wearing a torque and earrings bearing snake motifs. The jewelry she was wearing looked more lustrous than white-gold and the emeralds that adorned the pieces seemed to shine with their own light. It was an awe-inspiring sight, which generated more questions than answers. Harry just smiled at the Greengrass' reactions; Hermione was really hamming it up but they knew the importance of appearances, especially amongst the Wizarding Elite.

"Welcome Lord Greengrass and Heiress Greengrass," she began with as much pomp and circumstance she could muster though her nervousness, "I am the Lady Matriarch Hermione Jean of the Noble House—undeclared—Granger; the Duchess and Avatar of Slytherin."

Thankfully, Daphne was at least marginally prepared for Hermione's introduction and did as etiquette demanded; she genuflected. Hiram Greengrass; stunned beyond words, followed suit. The powerful and pure magic filling the air being the final arbiter for his actions, he knew that he had stepped into something huge and not seen for generations.

"Please rise, Lord Greengrass and Heiress Greengrass, and take a seat," she said, "we have a lot to discuss; not the least of which is explaining who and what I am but before that allow me to make some introductions. First off and behind me is Founder Salazar Slytherin, I am his Avatar and therefore the Head of that Noble House not just at Hogwarts but to all its current and former members, although it's primarily ceremonial beyond the Hogsvale. Behind me and on the wall to my left is Founder Rowena Ravenclaw. To her left is Founder Helga Hufflepuff and next to her is of course Founder Godric Gryffindor."

The four Founders introduced themselves, formerly to Hiram and Daphne Greengrass and the father and daughter took a seat on the side of the table facing the door.

"Would you like some refreshments?" Founder Hufflepuff offered matronly. "Fiona, please bring us some tea; Peeves, please retrieve that flask of firewhisky for Lord Greengrass, he appears to need a stiff drink."

"Thank you, Helga," Hermione said before turning her attention back to their guests. Harry joined her, taking the Patron Black chair, but allowed Hermione to officiate; it was—for all intents—her debut. The young witch, resplendent in her silver and green said, "These chambers and everything we say here are things that Harry and I are not ready to see or hear made public. I will not ask for oaths since such things interfere when meeting as equals, with shared goals; oaths are for those you won't trust. Let us hope things remain unequivocal between us and that we find our time together profitable."

Harry smiled, his witch was doing very well and he liked her subtle inference to their allies from The Nation and The People.

"Duchess Slytherin," Hiram Greengrass began, "I do not wish to offend but this is highly irregular and unexpected. First off, I take that you and Lord Potter are directly responsible for my daughter's survival and her subsequent 'life debts'. I wish to thank you for Daphne's life and implore that you be kind in the application of her debts."

"Lord Greengrass, before anything Daphne was our friend; let us not speak of debts," she replied, "but with that in mind and my knowledge of your family's travails as of late, I ask that you understand that I see your daughter's debt in a positive light. It offers a level of protection that need not arouse unwanted attention or speculation, like Lord Potter's protection of Tracey Davis' has."

"Lord Greengrass, my return to Wizarding England has set in motion a series of events that will likely see major changes to our society," Harry said, entering the conversation. "On the surface, I am recognized as the Head of House Potter and have been emancipated; what very few know is that I am also the de facto Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black through my Godfather and its current head Sirius Black. That is why I can sit in Patron Black's chair by Hermione's side. Until matters with my Godfather are cleared up, I bear the burden of two Ancient and Most Noble Houses. My two houses represent half of the Four Families. Through mistakes of my ignorance, I have created the Noble House of Granger and the Noble House of Granger-Black. I am telling you this so that you might understand at what level things about us are happening."

"I-I understand Lord Potter-Black," Lord Greengrass said in surprise, "but if I may be so bold, who holds Lordship in House Granger-Black?"

"House Granger-Black is headed by the Lady Matriarch Narcissa Maleficent," he replied, "In matters relating to her, I must defer you to Lady Hermione as it relates to matters deeply entwined with her family. Such matters are not mine to speak of and for the time being are better left for another day. That aside, I honestly believe that Daphne could not find a better warden of her debt than Lady Hermione and I freely relinquish my portion of said debt to her."

"Thank you Lord Potter," Daphne said demurely as she felt part of her bindings—bindings she hadn't felt before now—shift, "My Lady has already been very good to me and I already owe her and our Founders a great debt. I've not felt this positive in a long time."

"I'm glad, Daphne," Harry replied before adding, "Now, we have not got a lot of time before a particular someone notices our absences and in that time I wish to pass on some key matters to you Lord Greengrass. I wish I had the time to go into more details but today is not the day. If you have questions or wish to contact Hermione or me privately; seek out Griphook—my Major Domo—at Gringotts; Hermione and I see him at least monthly as he keeps us abreast of our accounts and other activities. Now, allow Lady Hermione and myself give you a highly abridged version of what has been happening since August, our place within those happenings and how your family now finds itself involved in those happenings."

As Lord Potter and Duchess Slytherin began briefing Lord Greengrass, Hiram became very thankful for the flask that Peeves—the poltergeist no less—had supplied. His part and his sister, Fiona's part in the grand scheme of things were just two of the many things he had never been aware of or even suspected.

Bidding his daughter farewell, after some near earth-shattering revelations, which were likely going to keep him awake for the next few nights, he made his way from Hogwarts. As he walked the path to Hogsmeade, he was glad that—regardless of the horrors associated with it—Daphne had come under the protection of the young lord and lady, the Duchess of Slytherin no less: who would ever think that of a muggle-born. Duchess Hermione's connection to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black was a surprise too and he vowed to get to know this Mr. and Mrs. Granger, their history had raised his eyebrows since he had dealings with their former regiment. Stepping through the Hogwarts' gate, Lord Hiram Greengrass turned on his heel and apparated home with a major tale to tell his wife.