Nothing but the truth

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Longbottom Manor – 15th of January – Sunday afternoon

.

Augusta Longbottom was annoyed. This letter was really insulting her intellect. How could anyone assume that she would believe a single sentence of it? With a tad too much force she put down her precious Dresden china tea cup. The sound that left her lips could have been a low growl – if a lady would ever growl. She was a lady, so it had to be an illusion.

"He's really losing it," Minerva commented, a thin smile playing around her lips. She knew the signs. If Augusta behaved like this, she was really miffed, a situation quite dangerous for the source of her mood. Despite her self-control Augusta had quite the temper, as Minerva knew. And the 'old dragon' had been a feared duellist in her younger days. Even now she was fit enough that Minerva had no false hopes about who would win in a fight between them.

"Does he really think this letter would convince me?" Augusta asked, sitting bolt upright on her chair and staring intensely at her old friend.

Minerva sighed, stopping her involuntary shrug at the last instant. Augusta liked good behaviour, adored it even like many other aspects of traditional customs. "He's trying some kind of damage control, I assume. Perhaps I've been a bit harsh after that incident and he thought it would be better to write to you before you heard about it from another person."

Augusta huffed, but didn't reply instantly. Instead she watched Minerva for a while, her stare intense enough to make it uncomfortable even for someone like Minerva McGonagall. Certainly a few of her students would have a field day to see her squirming in her seat like this. "You've changed," Augusta drily commented after a while.

"Changed for the better?" Minerva asked back, her mind not as much at ease as she tried to show.

"Yes, else you wouldn't be sitting here."

Minerva flinched. This she had missed the most in the last decade: Sitting in Longbottom Manor together with Augusta, sipping her formidable tea from her marvellous porcelain and discussing Merlin and the Wizarding. It had been one of the many things following Albus' leadership and advice had cost her. Only a few weeks ago had she been invited to the Manor again, since she started to stand up for her own opinions. "I should have changed earlier," she whispered, unusually gloomy.

"Yes, you should have." Minerva flinched again. Leave it to Augusta to speak a hurtful truth without pulling any punches. She had deserved this. To her relief Augusta felt pity and changed the subject.

"But now tell me about Miss Granger."

.

"There is one point about Miss Granger," Augusta continued slowly "that I don't like."

"Pray tell." Minerva listened intensely now. Not only had Hermione been her absolute favourite student – making it hard sometimes to be impartial towards her – but also had she thought until now that Augusta had been impressed by the strong will and character of her grandson's girlfriend.

"She's a bit too Muggleborn, don't you think so?"

Minerva stared flabbergasted at her friend. She was absolutely sure that Augusta didn't share the stupid opinion of Malfoy and his friends about blood purity. So what was she speaking about?

"I mean," Augusta explained "she's not… grounded… in our society. She doesn't understand or even know our customs. She always tries to 'better' our ways. Think about her view point about house-elves or what she's thinking about our laws."

Now Minerva understood. And she even shared her friend's opinion in a way. Muggleborn witches often had problems to integrate. Especially regarding the rights of women the wizarding laws, viewing them as antiquated. And how wizards interacted with other races like house elves, goblins and centaurs certainly seemed weird to someone raised in a modern society. Often these Muggleborn argued that the Wizarding society had to change, to adapt. Minerva understood both sides: The wish of these young witches for a change and the wish of older witches like Augusta – or her – to hold onto old traditions.

"Perhaps she's right and we're simply too inflexible to adapt, Augusta."

"Speak for yourself," Augusta huffed. "Think about it. She wants to change everything: Neville, the laws, how we handle our servants… everything."

"She's a bit over-enthusiastic sometimes, I give you that. But: Aren't you impressed about the changes she prompted in Neville? He's really" Minerva vaguely waved "far better than before. He's more self-confident. He's far better at spell-casting. He's more eloquent and willing to stand up, especially for his friends. Severus told me how Neville defended Hermione in Potions against that Nott-prat. You would have been proud."

Augusta smiled and nodded slightly, but stayed silent for the moment.

"She really changed him for the better. And while her opinion about how we should handle other races is a bit extreme, I think she only needs someone to explain her WHY we do what we do. She needs someone willing to work with her to find a way to help and change our society in a constructive way. She needs someone like you, Augusta. I don't see anything wrong about a young girl more interested in the welfare of every creature than her own benefit. We have far too few young witches of her kind. She only needs a bit of guidance."

Augusta sighed. It made sense and she had to agree that many rules about other races should be changed, especially those about co-living with Goblins, Centaurs and other intelligent races who had been treated like second-class for far too long. But still…

"But what about our customs? At Pinegrew Manor she was very outspoken… what?" Augusta stopped when Minerva dared to snigger at that comment. "Am I wrong?"

Minerva patted her hand. "No, you're not – basically." She pondered about something for a while before she continued. "You never made a marriage contract for Frank or Neville, didn't you?"

Augusta shook her head: "No. It may be the right course for some families but the Longbottoms had always been too strong-willed for arranged marriages. Contracts should be created to clarify the details of a marriage, not to arrange the pairing itself."

"See," Minerva agreed. "That's Hermione's opinion too. She knows the value of contracts. I'm sure it's part of her Muggleborn uprising. But she wants the freedom for everyone to choose his own partner, his own future. As with our laws about other races I expect that she would understand if you'd take your time to explain. She's a bit… aggressive… in her wish for a change, I admit. But she means well. And" Minerva smiled thoughtfully "have we been completely different at her age? I at least certainly was not."

.

"Take care of them, will you?"

Minerva was preparing her departure when Augusta begged her, her voice suddenly very earnest and a bit gloomy. She knew why Augusta had qualms about allowing Neville and Hermione to stay at Hogwarts. Not only had there been the poisoning a few months ago and now the incident with Albus, but Augusta had also told her about the spell Ana Hernandez had found and lifted with the help of Augusta and Hermione. Minerva had been shocked to hear about the spell and impressed about the ritual and especially the important part of Hermione in it. Apparently she was even more important to Neville's future than expected, more than usual for a 'normal girlfriend'.

Minerva nodded and hugged her friend: "I certainly will."

"And…"

Augusta hesitated for a moment and something about her expression told Minerva that this wasn't going to be something she liked. "Should he interfere with Neville ever again…"

"I understand," Minerva said hoarsely.

"And should there be something," Augusta struggled even more. A shiver ran down Minerva's spine. She had never seen her friend like this. "I never believed the rumours about Albus' part in…"

Minerva shivered. The rumours, she mused. The rumours that Albus had been at least partially responsible for what had happened to Neville's parents, responsible for Augusta's son Frank and his wife Alice losing their mind to the torture of Bellatrix Lestrange. That he had wanted to sacrifice them to protect the Potters. She didn't know who had started those rumours, had never believed them, but Albus' political enemies never stopped to spread them.

Augusta's eyes were pure steel now. "Should I ever find clear proof of his involvement in that attack…"

Augusta didn't continue and Minerva didn't need to hear the words. She was unable to respond and after a last understanding nod quietly left the manor. Minerva hoped that her friend was wrong about that. Please, Merlin let her be wrong.

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Hogwarts – Great Hall – 23rd of January – Lunch Time

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"His hair is still neon yellow," Neville sniggered, his eyes resting on Theodore Nott. The young Slytherin looked a bit annoyed, a result of his inability to alter the colour of his hairs back to their natural one. Even his fellow Slytherins liked to taunt him for his hair. It was far worse with the other houses, the harshest jokes surprisingly coming from the Hufflepuff girls around Susan Bones. Apparently she somehow learned about the attack on her saviour and had been more than a bit upset. Harry even had to speak with her once to prevent more direct reactions from her.

"Poor boy," Harry responded in mock compassion. The coloration had been a real teamwork. Daphne and Hermione had researched a way to bind a colour alteration charm into a potion. The twins had used their small private potion lab – its exact location unknown to everybody else – to brew it and Harry had slipped the potion into Nott's drink with a little distraction thanks to Neville and Luna. They had been very content with the result so far. Neither Snape nor Flitwick had been able to counter the charm and told Nott to simply wait for it to wear off.

Poor boy, Harry laughed again. According to Hermione the special charm Daphne had used would last at least another three weeks, changing the exact coloration every 72 hours, with none of the chosen colours something you wished to have on your head. He had been impressed. While Hermione had found the way to bind the spell into a potion, it was Daphne's formula to get such a long-lasting and nearly irreversible charm.

It had only been the newest in a series of pranks on the prat. The first one had been the traditional canary cream, meant only as an announcement that the hunting season had been opened. It was the twins' way to say: "We're out for you."

Professor Snape had been astonishingly reluctant to help his student and not even hinted at the charm on Nott's robe, but stayed silent like the rest of the teachers. It had been a marvellous work of the twins – again with a little help of Daphne. Apparently she had been serious about 'we need more laughs' when they announced their support to the twins' joke shop a month ago. While Harry was helping with ideas and plans, it was left to Daphne and Hermione to research the most wonderful things. Apparently Nott's attack on Daphne had acidified Hermione enough to forget her normal rule-abiding behaviour for a while.

For a whole day Nott had been running around with varying letterings on his back, invisible to every Slytherin student. Even Daphne hadn't been able to see the result, but the giggles of the other houses had told her enough. Varying from 'Gryffindor what else?' over 'I snuggle up to Hufflepuffs' and 'I adore your raven mind' right up to more drastic jokes regarding his evening amusement with Crabbe and Goyle or his wish to give flowers to Draco and sing serenades under Millicent's window. Someone even told Millicent about the last one and – instead of helping the 'poor boy' – the huge girl had started to make suggestive comments, causing a number of waves of hilarious joy.

In the end Nott had tried to hide in one of the bathrooms, only to avoid the amused stares. Not that it really helped. Peeves – who had been a pranking companion of the twins for years – had been more than able and willing to shoo him away from his hiding spot.

No, these weeks really weren't Nott's favourite time.

.

"He's really cute when he's reading," Hermione whispered, her voice low enough that Harry could pretend he did hear it.

They were still waiting for the owls' arrival, sitting in the Great Hall, reading. Daphne nodded in response and smiled as she watched Harry perusing her notes on Ancient Runes. After only a few weeks he had still much to catch up, but he was making an impressible progress in the subject. With the help of Hermione and herself he had been able to follow the current lessons while using the evenings to learn the stuff of the last 16 months.

"At most at the end of the summer break he'll catch up with the stuff," Daphne responded in an equally low voice.

In the beginning Daphne hadn't been certain about Harry choosing this subject and dropping Divination. Yes, in her opinion Divination should only be taught to someone with 'The Talent' – something Harry obviously didn't have. But with Trelawney – Daphne and even Hermione refused to call her Professor – being a fraud it had been easy for Harry to get good marks with his contrived prophecies. "A little doom, a little death and much pain – et voila: Your prophecy is ready." That even Ron had been able to fetch good marks with this recipe had been enough proof of Trelawney's 'skill', Daphne pondered.

But again Harry had surprised her in a positive manner. He seemed to have a talent and especially a keen interest in Runes. She hoped – no, she expected – that he would surpass her even before they took their OWLs.

"He'll be nearly as good as you soon, 'Mione," Daphne whispered.

"Perhaps even better," came the return. "He's worse at learning but really good at combining. Probably my marks will be better, because the examiner mostly check 'proven knowledge'. But he'll be better at really using it."

"At least if his interest isn't simply a straw fire."

"We'll have to make sure that it isn't," Hermione smiled at her.

Harry, sensing Daphne's gaze somehow, looked up and smiled shortly but warmly before he returned to his book. This new side – real interest to learn and to have the needed patience for it – had been one thing Hermione, in particular, had been very happy about. If nothing else this would be a big point in favour of Harry's girlfriend in her eyes.

Another surprise had certainly been how much he improved in spell-weaving.

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One week ago – shore of the Black Lake

With Harry's cloak and map it had been easy for Daphne to leave Hogwarts unnoticed. Her mother – disturbed by the news about Griphook's memory alteration and the Headmaster try to get into Hermione's mind – had agreed to meet her from time to time. They would see each other again in February, shortly before Valentine's Day. Daphne blushed as she thought about that day. It would be a Tuesday, but perhaps they would be allowed to visit Hogsmeade nonetheless.

"I won't tell you," Roxanne ignored her daughter's glare. Since Daphne had realized that Harry had spoken with her about his plans for Valentine's Day, she had harassed her mother for details. Daphne sighed defeated.

"And how is my favourite son doing in school?"

"Good," Daphne responded: "Much better than expected."

Since he used his new wand, Harry had shown a much better control over his spells. His targeting had improved – while still worse than Daphne's he had been able to close the gap. Now she had to work really hard for any victory in their training duels. But at least she was still able to win from time to time. Hermione hadn't been able to do this for two weeks at least. But one the other hand: More than once they had stopped a fight with Hermione because nobody had been really able to breach her defence.

Harry normally only won now when he stepped very near to her, the small distance allowing him to attack faster than she was able to react. And Daphne more than once could only win through the use of a hastily changed spell, getting her simply by surprise. It was frustrating sometimes. And now Neville had started to imitate Hermione in her way of fighting. Daphne shuddered.

At least the Patronus spell training was going well so far. All three had been able to cast a non-corporeal Patronus this weekend after some intense training with Harry – with Neville's surprisingly being the strongest. Now they had to train and see. What would their corporeal Patronus be? Daphne hoped it had something to do with Harry.

"I hadn't expected this progress," Daphne stated. "I thought his old wand already to be a very strong one. But he tried to use it again – for comparison purposes – and he's far worse with his old wand now. Hermione said that he is even worse with the old wand than he had been a few months ago."

"It is a very strong one," Roxanne agreed. "According to my knowledge it belongs to the dozen most powerful wands in Britain. But you remember that it is the twin of 'His' wand?"

Daphne nodded, feeling a bit uneasy to think about that.

"As expected both wands are very strong at destructive magic. And as you know wand and wizard have to share character traits to really resonate. From what I observed Harry – despite his temper – has no really destructive nature. He's willing to fight, but not eager to do so. He would kill to defend his friends, but not without the direst need. And – I hope and assume – he changed in the last months as well. His caring side only went stronger. Anne told me about your common training. This 'protection channelling' is a pure contrast to the wand's character."

"But why…" Daphne faltered, not unhappy about the 'distance' between Harry and his old wand, but surprised nonetheless.

"Why did the wand chose him in the first?"

Daphne nodded.

"I'm not sure that it really did," Roxanne whispered. Daphne stared at her, looking confused. "Yes, the wand reacted and perhaps there was a… a connection in the beginning. But perhaps it was only a reaction to the killing curse that its brother had cast on Harry years ago. Perhaps Ollivander would have been able to find another wand, a better harmonizing wand."

"Why should he do such a thing? And remember what Harry told about his first visit and how many wands there had been – fully unusable."

Roxanne only stared silently at her daughter, wishing that she'd find the solution herself. For quite some time Daphne pondered about the problem. Then – hesitatingly – she proposed her answer: "He knew – Ollivander knew what kind of wand would be appropriate. He's somehow able to feel those needed characteristics in a person. That's the reason why he's able to find the correct wand in no time in most of the cases."

Roxanne nodded and gestured her to continue.

"If he knows what kind of wand is appropriate, he'll know too which wands will react badly to the wizard. So he was able to give a long row of unwilling wands to him. In the end Harry certainly was grateful that a wand was willing to cooperate. He didn't continue to test others, took the first that somehow worked at least."

Roxanne smiled, happy that her daughter was improved in the Slytherin ways of thinking. It wasn't bad to be cunning.

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "So he wanted to give Harry this wand. But a wand-worker should have no reason to do this. So there had to be another person, ordering him to do so – someone from the Ministry or the school."

"We'll never know for certain, Daphne," Roxanne whispered, hugging her daughter. "But I'm certain that we both know who had been the one to order him to do this – especially with a feather from his phoenix being the core of the wand."

"Should I tell him?"

Roxanne thought about the question for a while. "Not now," she responded. "We'll speak with him about it at another time. It's not really important, I suppose."

"Are you sure? I don't like the idea of Harry using his old wand anymore. I would really like to explain to him why I'm against it. What if he uses it in the trial tasks? We assume that a Deatheater is responsible for his participation. There could happen something…"

"You're right," Roxanne nodded. "Perhaps you should tell him. But speak with Hermione about it. Together it will be easier to explain, I assume."

"I will, Mum."

.

Present

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"… and like the compassionate and concerned Headmistress she always has been, Madam Maxime immediately promised us to help the young girl in need."

Daphne coughed slightly, stopping it as she noticed Luna's death-glare. With a small smile Luna returned to the article she was reading from the newest Quibbler that had arrived only minutes ago.

"Madam Maxime: I promise that the young girl will be able to finish her education even against the wishes of her family. We can't accept this kind of behaviour towards one of our students. It had always been the policy of Beauxbatons to be more than simple teachers to our students. We are family."

Daphne's coughing increasing and slowly turned into a barely controlled laughter. Harry tried to help her, patting her back, but he was more than a bit smiling too.

"She's so concerned," purred Neville with mock happiness: "Has always been." He sighed exaggerated, which yielded him a stroke with the Quibbler on his head.

"She was concerned," Luna explained. "She only needed Harry to… to see the truth."

"To see the light," Daphne agreed with glazed eyes.

"The main point is that she listened to him," Hermione interjected and all agreed.

A few days ago Harry and Luna had been in the carriage and announced the article. In the beginning Madam Maxime and her Deputy Mistress Ancuille hadn't been impressed. The Quibbler was simply a too small, unimportant and weird newspaper. But then they had told her that the same edition would contain interviews with Harry and the other Champions, something that certainly would cause some interest and a far greater demand this time.

"And then there is always the possibility to send the article to some other Newspapers," Harry had added. "I'm certain there are some French Newspapers with interest in an article like this."

"You wouldn't dare," Mistress Ancuille growled, only to get a "Try me" from Luna in response.

In the end Madam Maxime had proven that she didn't hold her position for nothing. She had agreed to Harry's proposition on how to handle the matter and now they only hoped that she would abide to her end of the bargain. Luna had changed the article and written something about the duty of care of a school and how exemplary Madam Maxime implemented this.

"And how's Claire?" Daphne asked.

"Better," Harry smiled. He was thankful that his girlfriend had no qualms about him spending time with the beautiful and three years older French girl. "Since Madam Maxime told her that she would be able to return to the school – even if her brother decides not to pay for her – she has relaxed. Madam Maxime even offered her a position as a teacher's assistant in the case she has nowhere to go afterwards and intends to help her to find other work."

"And what about the summer?"

"Fleur invited her," Hermione answered the question. Another surprise certainly had been the blossoming friendship between her and Fleur. Seeing this other side of Fleur, this caring side instead of the haughty Veela princess, had changed her first-time impression. And certainly it had been helpful that the twins started to care for Fleur, apparently ordered to do so by their older brother. That Molly was so outspoken against the 'French half-breed' had only increased the twins' wish to stay by her side.

"I hope some other schools will learn something from this article," Harry added thoughtfully. Everyone knew that he meant Hogwarts and how the teachers here had handled similar matters in the past.

"If not: There is always another Quibbler edition ahead," Luna responded and everyone agreed with a smile.

.

"One problem solved," Daphne sighed. "What about the other one?" Her eyes went to Viktor Krum, showing everyone what she was speaking about.

Everyone was silent for a while, even Luna. January had started so well. Viktor had happily agreed to be interviewed – after he heard that Harry, Fleur and Cedric would be interviewed too – and overall he had been more relaxed around the other Champions.

But then the incident happened around his swimming. It had been a bit weird to watch him swimming in the lake in the middle of winter. Even with a heating charm it certainly was more than a tad uncomfortable, so there had to be a reason. After Harry's conversation with Cedric – getting the tip to open the egg under water – they had been able to solve the riddle. So he had to find something within an hour, something precious belonging to him, perhaps his broom. Harry had been unwilling to share Daphne's idea about 'precious = important person', but still he had tried to speak with the other Champions about it. Cedric and Fleur had agreed that only one especially well-loved item could be meant, perhaps not the most valuable one but one with a great amount of emotions clinging to it.

The only one not willing to speak about it had been Viktor. And not only that: Viktor had been especially hostile towards Harry. Only towards Harry he had behaved like that. Fleur and Cedric had still been able to speak with him, but not about Harry and Viktor's reason for his sudden change of behaviour. In the following days the reason slowly became clear. It had been Luna to detect it, to speak about it first: Jealousy.

Yes, Viktor was jealous. Not because of Harry's fame or abilities like Ron had so often been but because of his friendship with Hermione and especially with Daphne. While he hadn't been happy about Harry not willing or able to help him getting Hermione as his ball date, apparently he had now started to follow Daphne with lecherous stares. More than once he had approached her, tried to invite her to some common learning in the library or to share a hot chocolate. Twice Daphne had found flowers on her table and slowly she felt uneasy about his eyes following her everywhere.

"I really don't understand him," Daphne sighed. "He certainly has more than enough fan girls to choose from. Why does he have to follow me? I'm neither especially beautiful nor his usual type – according to the rumours in the girls' dorm."

Harry cupped her cheek and whispered: "I know exactly why he's following you. And while I don't like his interest I certainly understand it. You're the most beautiful girl around."

A gagging noise prompted both teenagers to turn around, Daphne happy about the distraction as it allowed her to hide her blush. George stood there, trying to look sick because of the sentimental mush he had heard. Fred on the other side went down on one knee: "He's right about this, most beautiful princess. Every guy would be lucky to have such a wonderful prize at his side." A harrumph behind his back – a voice he knew well enough to belong to Angelina – caused him to continue.

"If my love didn't belong hopelessly and forever to Angelina, Harry would have some serious competition in me. I hope that you aren't too sad that you have no chance against the empress of the sky and of my heart."

Daphne rolled her eyes as Fred kissed the back of her hand. Harry glared with a very small smile and a slender but strong hand grabbed Fred's ear and pulled him up: "In the nick of time, Fred." Giggling they watched the twins and Angelina walk away.

"Lamb-like," Daphne grinned.

"Whipped," Hermione agreed. Both boys only sighed.

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Hogwarts – Party Room – 28th of January Evening

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"What did he want?" Harry asked tensely when Hermione and Neville returned from the Headmaster's office. He had been waiting alone as Daphne two hours ago had said something about sketching. With the last weeks packed with lessons about Charms, Potions, Patronus, Occlumency and many other things, she hadn't been able to follow her other passion: Painting. Now she wanted to work on the sketch she intended to give to Millicent and Pansy for their help. Nobody had seen the sketch until now and Harry was anxious to have a look.

That Dumbledore had invited Neville and Professor McGonagall too to his office had been a welcome gesture. But still he didn't trust him. What a change in their relation. Only a year ago he would have trusted Dumbledore with his life without hesitation.

"He wanted to speak about Ginny," Neville answered in Hermione's stead, slumping exhausted onto a chair. He had been silent at the Headmaster's office, leaving the conversation to Hermione, while he tried to read in Dumbledore's face, tried to find the reasons for his sudden interest in Ginny's welfare. As could be expected he hadn't been successful. If I only was better at this kind of things, Neville mused.

Harry looked quizzically at Hermione, who only shrugged. She tried to pretend a calm expression, but her eyes betrayed her confusion.

"He begged me to spend time with her. He said that he's concerned about her and hopes that my friendship would help."

"What friendship?" Harry growled. "It's not like we four have been best friends with her in the last months."

He was right, naturally. Even after their conversation on their return trip to Hogwarts, there hadn't been much progress. For a few days Ginny had relaxed a bit and from time to time they had spoken with each other about harmless things, mostly school relevant. But then she slowly went back to her former self: Angry, but also depressed from time to time. Hermione knew that Ginny received quite a number of letters, mostly from her mother. She feared that Molly was putting pressure on her daughter again.

Hermione on the other hand got some letters from Charlie. Ginny's elder brother sounded very concerned about his little sister and Hermione agreed with him. Daphne, who had been the most outspoken about helping Ginny, had prompted Hermione to get her some material about psychology and with the help of her parents she had been able to comply.

Harry hadn't been really excited about the matter. It had been one of the few things he had strong arguments with his girlfriend. Even with Balou fully healthy again – the black-white tomcat accompanying them very often together with his lazy friend Crookshanks, both tomcats connected by their gluttony and willingness to endure endless hours of ruffling from the girls – he wasn't willing to forget her betrayal. And he still didn't trust her willingness to accept his friendship with Daphne.

Surprisingly Neville had been nearly as outspoken as Daphne in his wish to help Ginny. For a while Hermione had feared a little crush on Neville's side. After all was Ginny one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts. As she mentioned her fear a few days ago to Daphne, it earned her a small slap on the back of her head.

"Silly one," Daphne scolded her. "He has only eyes for you. It's only his caring side."

Hermione wasn't completely certain about that. There was something else. It was like Neville wanted Daphne to help Ginny, like he wanted to 'see her in action', to further her healer side. Why would he behave like this? Why do I have to over analyze everything? Hermione groaned.

"Daphne has tried often enough to help her," Harry broke Hermione's string of thoughts. "And every time Ginny sent her away."

"To be exact Ron sent her away," Neville interjected. "Ginny's too depressed most of the time to really react to anything."

"Ron is all the more outspoken," Hermione agreed. "Last time he even…" Hermione stopped, paling slightly.

"He even what?" Harry asked; his voice a bit too calm to convince Hermione.

"Ron threatened her," Neville answered, ignoring Hermione's glare. He knew that it was a risk to tell Harry something like this but he believed that Harry deserved to know, especially because he couldn't ignore the possibility of Ron really attacking Daphne in a temper tantrum.

"He only wanted to shoo Daphne away from Ginny," Hermione tried to soothe the waves. "I don't really think…" Hermione struggled, gave her boyfriend a questioning look. She knew his opinion about this and hoped that he was wrong. But deep down in her heart she feared that Neville had evaluated the position better than her. "Perhaps she should be more careful," Hermione whispered at last.

Harry nodded with a grim expression. "Like I always said: Leave the younger Weasleys to themselves."

Hermione flinched. Daphne wouldn't like this – not in the least.