Disclaimer: Seriously, if I owned Harry Potter, I would have tried to explain why an invisibility cloak that was supposedly on par with an unbeatable wand and a rock that could bring back shades of the dead could be seen through by a magical eye as easily as any other form of invisibility or camouflage. Either Moody's eye is on par with one of a kind Deathly Hallows, or the cloak really got the short end of the stick.
Some pretty thoroughly original backstory content for Daphne in this chapter. I needed to establish why a twelve year old girl didn't just shut down completely after seeing someone die. Not that I'm against writing that kind of angst and emotion in general at some point, but it's not for this particular fic. I'd rather get to the fun stuff. ;)
Chapter Two
Things moved quickly after that. The Headmaster took Daphne away from the room and the body within. She was whisked straight to the medical wing and doted on by Madame Pomfrey for several minutes. Given a salve for the burn on her face, as well as potion that the healer claimed would put her to sleep without nightmares, 'Harry' was then ordered to lay down and get some rest.
There might have also been something about how the Weasley boy was going to be just fine, but Daphne wasn't listening by that point. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Yet she didn't dare. There were still things that she had to take care of, particularly while the medical witch and the rest of the staff thought 'he' was unconscious. So she applied the burn salve and pretended to drink the potion, only to spit the mouthful out into the space between the headboard and the wall once Pomfrey turned away. By Daphne's request, the medical witch had surrounded the bed with curtains lined with privacy charms, ostensibly so that 'he' could sleep undisturbed.
Once she was left alone for a minute, Daphne took her mirror out once more and studied herself. She was lucky in that her own eyes were already green like Potter's had been. So she didn't have to worry about that. Instead, she focused on her forehead. Carefully taking Harry's wand, she whispered, "Tergeo." before gingerly tracing the very tip of the wand down from her temple into the shape of the lightning bolt scar that Potter was famous for. The cleaning charm she was using would siphon away the burn ointment and any other medicine that had been included in it, strictly from that little spot. That way, as her burned face recovered, the spot she had marked in the shape of Potter's famous scar would remain burned and would hopefully look enough like the real scar to pass.
Honestly, the things she was sacrificing to make this work. If it had been anyone else, if Potter hadn't literally killed himself to save her life, Daphne wouldn't make this much of an effort. She almost couldn't believe she was anyway.
And yet, every time she considered calling the whole thing off, she remembered Harry's pleading look as he lay dying. No, she had to do this. Whatever it took, she had to pay that debt back to him. She had to keep the Wizarding World going long enough to bring the real Harry back. Then she could be rid of all this, could produce herself and maybe even tell the truth about what she had done and why.
So these sacrifices she was making were temporary. She would bear them until her debt to Potter was fulfilled. That thought helped to quell the annoyance her Slytherin side felt about all this self-sacrificing cack.
Once Daphne was satisfied that the mark on her forehead was good enough, she left the rest of the ointment on her skin to heal before turning her attention to her next order of business. Specifically, her wand.
Yes, she had Harry's wand, but it wasn't enough. Though she knew little of Potter's home life, she did know that he lived with muggles. Muggles who might just know Harry well enough to catch her in a mistake, which meant she needed the insurance of magic. And since muggle-raised students had detection spells set on both their homes and their wands, she needed a wand that had no such trace: her own. True, she didn't know any memory adjustment spells. That in itself would have made this so much easier. But there were other spells she could use to keep herself ahead of the muggles.
And in any case, she'd simply feel better with her own wand so that she could use magic without worrying about the Trace Office throwing a fit.
Of course, if Quirrel had taken the wand with him, she was out of luck. But there was still a strong chance that it was in his office. She just had to find a way to get to it before anyone else did.
Besides, if she took the advice of Pomfrey and tried to sleep, she'd be forced to actually think about what she had witnessed. She had seen Harry Potter die, had been right there with him. If she slowed down for even a moment, if she let herself remember that she was a twelve year old girl who had just witnessed someone burned to death, she was going to shut down.
So she didn't think about it. She kept busy. She kept planning, going over everything she had to do in order to make this work.
Harry was not the first person she had seen die, which helped a little. When Daphne had been several years younger, a gang of wizards who called themselves Cruor had abducted the then-eight year old girl while she was visiting a friend.
Cruor had been a group of muggle-born wizards utterly obsessed with removing any and all claims of pure-blood superiority. Their ideas of how to go about this were quite straightforward, if rather hubristic: eventually remove all pure-blood heirs from their families, attacking the most vulnerable children until there were none left to carry on the pure-blood line.
They had taken her to a dark building. For days, the eight year old Daphne had listened to the men argue over what to do with her. She had been a test run, to see if they could successfully abduct the heir to one of the vaunted Ancient and Noble Houses. Now that they had, the group was split on what to do.
Some had wanted to kill her straight off. There had been talk of stringing up the child so that the pure-blood families would know that they weren't untouchable. Others, who clearly considered themselves the 'good' members of the fanatical child-abducting terrorists, simply wanted to obliviate her memory and put her somewhere far away where she would never be found or known for who she actually was. They argued with their more bloodthirsty companions that it would be just as good as killing her, because her family would never know where she was or what had happened for certain. They would always live with that tiny amount of hope that would never, ever be repaid.
Finally, one day while the majority of the group was away, those who remained had argued so much they came to blows. In the aftermath of that fight, one of the men who had been pushing the most for her death came to drag her out of the small, empty room they had been keeping her in. Apparently he had grown tired of the arguments, so he was simply going to kill her and get it over with.
When the man shoved her up against the hard stone wall and pressed his wand to her nose before asking if she had any last words, Daphne had done the only thing she could. She'd brought both of her small hands up to the man's wand and gave it a sharp yank upward until it had snapped in half.
Furious when his wand was broken, the man had thrown her to the ground and kicked her so hard her arm had broken. He'd kicked her again, making it clear that he meant to stomp her to death if he couldn't curse her. Fortunately, before his third kick could land, the rest of the group had come around the corner to see what all the noise was about. One of them, upon seeing what his companion was doing, had killed the man with the death curse. Daphne, curled into a ball on the floor, had seen the man's lifeless eyes as he fell right next to her.
That had begun a free-for-all, with spells flying every which way. The eight year old Greengrass girl had been forced to hide under the only available cover, the dead man who had been trying to kill her.
Seconds later, there were several more bodies for her to see. As Daphne had crawled out from under the dead body she'd been using as a shield, she'd found herself standing in a hallway full of dead men. She'd had to begin picking her way carefully through the fallen bodies. Eight of the nine men who had stayed in the house were dead.
Only one of the men had survived to the end, and he had been thoroughly poisoned by a summoned snake. Daphne had thought he was dead as well, until his hand caught her foot. She had screamed shrilly, but the man, whose name she had never learned, simply whispered harshly for the girl to get out of the house and go home before the rest of the group got back. He'd said that she'd suffered enough, seen enough, and that she could go.
Before she'd reached the door, the dying man had given her one last piece of advice, one last hint to surviving in this world. He'd said that they had failed because they had no idea what they were going to do once they had her. They hadn't had a plan. Personally, Daphne had thought being batcrap crazy murderous lunatics had done them in more, but the advice had held. To succeed in the world, she should always have a plan.
Daphne had escaped, and eventually put that abduction behind her, for the most part. But that was advice she was taking to heart now, and the memory of walking through the dark corridor lined with the fallen bodies of her abductors helped her not collapse into a sobbing, broken wreck after seeing Harry's death.
Quietly slipping off the bed, Daphne tugged the privacy curtain away to peek out. Weasley was sleeping in the bed next to hers, and Granger was reading a book on one of the nearby chairs.
Carefully closing the curtain once more, she cursed under her breath. Of course. Granger was one of Harry's best friends. Which meant that, again Granger was making a nuisance of herself. And again, she clearly had no idea that she was.
Scowls sent through privacy curtains apparently accomplished even less as far as penetrating Hermione's conscience than scowls sent across the Great Hall did. Daphne needed a new idea.
Sighing, she looked around at the small enclosed space she had to work with. She could wait for Hermione to fall asleep, but there was little guarantee that she'd be left alone for long after that. She had to find a way to get down to Quirrel's office while the staff was still focused on the room where the stone had been and... the body.
Besides the bed, there was a chair for a visitor inside the curtain. Dumbledore had collected something from the floor of the room he had found her in and left it on the chair before he left, but she hadn't been paying much attention. Now she did, just in case there was something that could help.
It was a cloak. Curious, Daphne picked it up off the chair. The cloak was fairly nice, all things considered. She'd had no idea that Harry owned something this extravagant.
When she draped the cloak over her arm, Daphne became quite glad for the privacy charms, because she yelped loudly as her arm vanished from sight. What kind of cloak was this?! Slowly, she grasped for where the cloak was and pulled it up, revealing her arm still in one piece.
It was an invisibility cloak. Potter had an invisibility cloak. And a good one from the looks of it, if she was any kind of judge. How had that happened? An invisibility cloak cost thousands of galleons, let alone a well made one like this. And that was on the rare occasion that one could be found. Daphne's father had been looking for a decent cloak for the past couple of years, but the only ones he had found were running low on enchantment so the invisibility kept slipping. Even then they had all cost more than a top of the line racing broom.
Well however Potter had come across this cloak, it just made things easier. Smiling gratefully, Daphne carefully slipped the cloak on and pulled the hood up and over her own head. Then she took a moment to admire her lack-of-self.
Opening the side of the curtains opposite from where Granger was sitting, Daphne took a breath and then stepped around and into the middle of the room. Hermione, as usual, paid no attention. This time, at least, Daphne was glad for it, though she almost couldn't resist flicking the back of the other girl's head.
Then she remembered that, though they didn't know it, both Granger and Weasley had lost their best friend that day. And because of her, they didn't even get to know. Her only consolation for not feeling like a complete monster was that she was planning on bringing him back, so that they wouldn't ever have to grieve.
It helped to think of it that way, but she still lowered her hand and walked on without bothering the other girl.
The door into the medical wing was closed, but it was only vaguely within Hermione's peripheral vision, and she seemed to be entirely absorbed in her book anyway. Daphne had the vague idea that she very well might have been able to escape the room even without the invisibility cloak. Still, she kept a close eye on the girl while slowly turning the knob and only opened the door enough to slip through the opening.
In the corridor outside of the medical wing, she looked both ways, pulled the cloak tighter around herself, and then ran toward Quirrel's classroom and office.
When she reached the open classroom door, Daphne peeked inside and found that there was good news and bad news. The good news was that she had indeed reached the room ahead of the teachers. The bad news was that the room wasn't empty. Draco Malfoy and his two thugs were inside, clustered around the door into Quirrel's office.
Frowning as she stood at the classroom doorway, Daphne wondered what they were doing there.
"Just watch the door, imbeciles." Draco hissed at the other two. "Let me know if anyone comes in. My father finally trusts me to contribute, and I'm not going to let you idiots ruin it for me."
While Daphne carefully walked into the room, mindful of any noise she might make, Crabbe raised his hand, as if they were in class. "But, uhh, what if a teacher comes? Like Quirrel."
"Quirrel isn't coming back." Draco's eyes rolled dramatically. "Father says that everything's going to change soon, and it's all because of Professor Quirrel. But he said that Quirrel had to leave before he could get something important out of his office, a book."
"What kind of book?" Goyle spoke up, sounding even more confused than Crabbe. "Your dad's got lots of books."
Poor Draco looked like he wanted to strangle both boys with their own ties. "It's a very special, very certain book. It's got Riddle written on the inside, and it's very, very important. So it's my job to get that book and give it to my father, and it's you two idiots job to make sure no one sees me take it. Especially Fumblebore. Now shut up."
Draco slipped into the office, while the other two boys took up positions side by side in front of the door. Silently thanking Harry's invisibility cloak once again, Daphne slipped up beside Goyle. Holding her breath, she crouched next to the boy and reached out to untie his shoelaces. She could have done the same using a spell with Potter's wand, but it would have meant saying the spell aloud, and she didn't want to risk either of them hearing.
After untying Crabbe's laces as well, she tied both of the boys shoelaces together so that Goyle's right shoe was tied to Crabbe's left. Then she stood and prepared hit Goyle. It was something she'd wanted to do for quite a long time, actually. The two boys were as annoying as they were stupid. But their families were pure-blood, and they were close personal friends of Draco. So anything she did would get reported back to her own father, which would just make everything worse.
Politics, even first year Slytherins had to understand and follow them. Not for the first time, Daphne wished she could be a Gryffindor just for a day so that she could experience the freedom of absolute certainty that her every first thought was the right one, rather than having to think three or four reactions into the future with everything she did.
Then she remembered that, for this moment, she was a Gryffindor, and let loose with her hand, smacking Goyle upside the back of his head. The boy howled in pain, jerking his head back reflexively, which made him hit the door with it and made him yelp even more. His arm lashed out, but Daphne had already danced away.
Crabbe had time to blurt out a demand about what was going on, before Goyle's staggering yanked the shoelaces tight and brought both boys crashing to the ground.
Being brave but shortsighted was so liberating she almost giggled.
The door into the office was yanked open once more, as Draco stormed out to glare at his struggling minions. "What are you squibs doing?" He hissed in frustration.
Taking the opening, Daphne slipped behind Draco and into the room while he argued with the other two. Casting her eyes around the office, she walked quickly to the desk and slid open a drawer. Nothing but quills and parchment.
Glancing up at the doorway, she hurriedly opened the next drawer down and found what she was looking for. Her wand lay on top of a pile of graded exams.
Unable to resist the temptation, she flipped through the exams until she found her name. "Only an E?" She hissed under her breath. "Now I know you're evil, jerk."
As she was straightening up, Daphne noticed another item in the drawer. It was a strange, leather bound book. It looked like a journal of some kind, only when she opened it up, there was no writing in the pages.
There was, however, a very faint inscription on the inside front page. T. M. Riddle. Frowning uncertainly, Daphne thought about what Draco had said. Apparently his father had something to do with Quirrel, and he wanted this book. That might mean that the book would give her a clue as to how to find Quirrel and the stone.
Tucking the diary away just as Draco entered the room once more, Daphne very carefully eased the drawer shut and stepped away from the desk.
Just as Draco was passing by, he stopped and turned to look right at her. Daphne's eyes widened, but she remained silent. Draco took a step toward her and leaned closer, seeming to stare directly into her eyes.
Then he stuck his tongue out, flicked a bit of his white-blonde hair back, and rubbed at a spot on his otherwise perfect teeth. He was mugging directly into her face like it was a... a... Daphne risked a glance behind herself. A mirror. Draco was taking time out of his breaking and entering to check himself out in the mirror. Daphne was offended on behalf of every other first year Slytherin that this ponce was considered the cream of their crop.
It wasn't hard to slip out past the two thugs once again, but she couldn't resist giving Crabbe his own smack before hustling out of the room as the two boys devolved into a shouting match once again.
After a quick side trip to her own room in the Slytherin dormitory to collect all of the money she had saved up, and a few other things that she thought she might need, Daphne made her way back to the hospital wing.
Now, she was finally ready to sleep. The next day was going to come very quickly, and she still had to convince Potter's friends that she was the boy himself.
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Hours later, Daphne was awoken as Madame Pomfrey swept the privacy curtain out of the way and came to the bed to examine 'him'. Rolling over, still groggy, she mumbled a demand to be left alone.
Instead, the school nurse made 'Mr. Potter' sit up while she gave 'his' face a thorough examination. She frowned and straightened, shaking her head. "Your scar seems to have rejected the burn ointment."
"It does that." Daphne claimed. "It doesn't like medicine. Must be the residual effect of the curse." It sounded good enough to her, and more importantly, she knew that Pomfrey couldn't dispute it. After all, it wasn't like there was a wealth of people who had survived the killing curse to draw comparison data from.
Clicking her tongue distastefully, Pomfrey looked like she was considering some other solution. Before she could push too much, Daphne shook her head. "It feels better than it looks, really." What would a Lion say? What would a brave, self-sacrificing, moralizing lion say? "Don't worry about me. Please, can I see my friends?"
Reluctantly, Pomfrey nodded and stepped aside. Immediately, 'Harry' found 'himself' set upon by two fast moving blurs. Weasley and Granger both flung themselves at 'him', much to Pomfrey's consternation. They hugged 'Harry' tightly and both started babbling questions at him about what he had seen.
Finally, Ron spoke out ahead of Hermione. "Is it true, mate? Quirrel escaped with the stone and someone... someone died?"
Dropping her gaze, Daphne let out a long, low sigh. Her eyes closed and she consciously lowered her voice a little. She couldn't match Harry's voice exactly, but she hoped neither of them would notice. "Yeah. Daphne Greengrass."
"Oh..." Ron's own gaze dropped. Then the Weasley boy looked up again and offered, "At least it was a snake, not a lion?"
It was with open mouthed shock that Daphne stared at him, too stunned to react properly. Granger, however, reacted by smacking Ron upside the back of his head while hissing, "Ronald Weasley, you horrible git!"
"Ow!" Weasley covered his head and looked confused. "What? What'd I say?"
Feeling her own eyes fill with tears in spite of herself, Daphne slid out of bed. With a muttered excuse, she snatched the invisibility cloak and ran from the room while the other two were still arguing. Pomfrey looked startled and called out for 'Harry' to stop, but Daphne ignored the woman and went into the hall.
"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore stood in the corridor, watching 'him' with kindly eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Daphne's mouth opened, and she very nearly said, 'I'm not Harry, I'm Daphne'. Instead, she simply muttered, "What's going to happen to her body?"
The Headmaster winced, and laid a hand on 'his' shoulder. "Let's take a walk. These old bones become far too cramped and slow sitting around all year. I find myself needing to stretch my legs more and more if I'm not to simply become a great old gargoyle, hunched over my desk. Then you shall all have to move me out to replace the one in front of the office and find yourselves a new Headmaster."
As they walked down the hall, Dumbledore kept his hand on 'Harry's' shoulder. "I'm afraid there... isn't a lot left of Miss Greengrass. But what remains there are will be sent to her family for burial. An announcement will be made at breakfast today, and there will be a school wide memorial throughout the end of year feast tomorrow."
The headmaster's voice turned softer then. "Would you like to attend Miss Greengrass's funeral, Harry? I'm quite certain I can arrange that, if it would be of any help."
Quickly, Daphne shook her head. "No, sir. I don't think I should intrude. I barely knew her." She also wasn't certain of her ability to keep up this charade if she saw her grieving parents and little sister Astoria. Better to avoid the entire situation until this was finished.
Though he looked like he might dispute that, Dumbledore let it go after a moment. His hand squeezed her shoulder. "Would you tell me everything that happened in that room?"
Oh boy. This was going to be tricky. "I don't... really remember all of it." She said carefully, not looking at the man. "I don't know why, but... some of it is just a blur." Quickly, before the headmaster could suggest a pensieve or memory charm, she went on, "I remember... getting the stone from the big mirror..." That much she had been able to figure out, even if she had no idea how Harry had done that.
"The Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore nodded. "Only one who wanted to take the stone without using it could have found it. Very well done, Harry."
"Daphne was there..." She continued, picking out how to explain this. "And Quirrel unwrapped his head. There was... a face on the back of his head, Professor. I think it was-" She choked, unable to continue the thought.
"Voldemort. I see." Dumbledore didn't look so much surprised as he did resigned. "Please go on." He produced a small bag of Bertie Bott's Beans and offered it to her after taking a single bean himself and rolling it between his fingers. "Please, tell me everything you remember. Anything you can think of."
She told him a modified version of what had happened. In her version, 'he' and Daphne had both run for the exit, and Daphne had been the one to save him. Her eyes filled with real tears then, as she thought of what the real Harry had done. There was nothing fake about the emotion, even if she was bending the specifics slightly.
"I'm sorry, Professor." 'He' said in a miserable tone of voice. "I couldn't help hi-" She coughed. "Her."
Turning 'Harry' to face him, Dumbledore embraced 'him'. "It is not for you to save everyone, my boy."
His voice turned so soft that Daphne wasn't certain that she'd heard him right. "... Not yet."
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The next couple of days went as Daphne has assumed they would. Slytherin House seemed to be in a state of shock at her 'death', and even most of the students from the other Houses stopped by her memorial in the Great Hall to pay their respects.
Weasley stopped by the memorial as well, looking properly chastised and regretful. He clearly hadn't thought whatsoever about what he had been saying, and he'd spent most of the last two days apologizing to 'Harry' for being insensitive.
Daphne had told him that 'he' needed the summer to think it over. Let the duffer stew for awhile. Maybe next time he'd put a single thought into what he said before simply blurting it out of his mouth. 'At least she wasn't a Lion' indeed.
At the feast for the final night, people were staring at 'Harry' when 'he' took 'his' place at the Gryffindor table. The older Weasley twins proudly sat down across from 'him' and began to talk about something Peeves had done while 'he' had been indisposed. On 'his' right hand side, Hermione tried to shush them, while Ron, on 'his' left side, continued to babble about something his favorite Quidditch player had done over the previous weekend.
All of the sound stopped when Professor Dumbledore rose, as their eyes turned to the Headmaster.
"My dear, dear friends." Dumbledore began, his sparkling blue eyes sweeping across the room as he held his arms wide as though to encompass everyone in it. "We here, at the end of this long year, find ourselves short one... precious student."
All eyes in the room turned toward the Slytherin table. Daphne thought she could hear Pansy sniffle. Part of her wished she could tell her friend the truth, but as much as she didn't want the other girl to hurt, she also didn't trust her to keep such a big secret. And she was certain that Pansy would try to talk her out of this insane plan.
Dumbledore went on. "We have all paid our respects and wishes to Miss Daphne Greengrass in the past day. But I for one would like to pay my own respect I my own way."
"Daphne Greengrass died because she exemplified the spirit of House Unity that we should all of us embrace. In her last moments, when most would have caved to fear, Daphne saved the life of another, at the cost of her own.
Now everyone was looking toward 'Harry', and Daphne found herself sinking slightly in her seat, uncomfortable.
The Headmaster continued after a moment. "I believe that Daphne's sacrifice, for a member of another House, should not be forgotten. To that end, I am immediately and permanently removing the House Cup as its system currently exists."
That caused an uproar among the students, which faltered and then died as Dumbledore looked each of them in the eye before moving on. "Our new House Cup system, one which, I believe, embraces the ideals of school unity, will be as follows."
The school was silent, waiting to hear what sort of change was being made to the beloved and long-lived House Cup system.
"From now on, there will be two separate point totals to be tallied at the end of the year. Houses will no longer compete with one another, but against a single static number. If their House Point total reaches this number at the end of the year, every member of the House will be rewarded with a trip into Hogsmeade on the last day, along with several other prizes."
"The second tally will be of every point from every House. Each House's total points will be added together. If this second tally reaches a certain level, then each and every student in every House will be given a very special award, of my own devising." Dumbledore winked at them mischievously. "Please do win, my dear students, I so wish to be creative next year."
The Weasley twins both raised their hands and spoke together when the Headmaster looked at them. "What about the Cup this year, Professor?"
"This?" Dumbledore extended his hand, and the House Cup floated to him. He held it up, and then a broad smile lit his face. "In this case, I believe everyone has earned the Cup, Misters Weasley. So, everyone shall have it."
In a single motion, the Headmaster tossed the House Cup out into the middle of the room. He drew his wand as it flew and pointed it at the spinning trophy. A light went off, everyone shielded their eyes, and then Daphne felt something land in her lap.
Looking down, she found the trophy lying there. To either side of her, Weasley and Granger were picking up their own versions. All the way up and down the table, and in the rest of the Great Hall, everyone else had their own trophies.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he lifted his own version of the trophy, taking a bite out of the top. "Mmmm." He announced with a smile while everyone stared. "Everyone could use a bit of chocolate at times."
Hesitantly, Daphne took a tiny nibble off the edge of the trophy. Sure enough, it was delicious, perfect sweet chocolate, for everyone.
"Never forget what Daphne Greengrass has taught us." Professor Dumbledore intoned, while everyone began to try their treats. "Whatever House you may belong to, we are all people. We all love, and we all experience loss. And anyone, anyone at all, from any House, may change things for the better."
Relative silence reigned for a few minutes as the students absorbed that. Then, as conversations slowly started up once again, Ron nudged 'Harry'. "You gonna be all right at your aunt and uncle's place? If they act up too much, send Hedwig. We'll talk mum into letting us come rescue you."
'Harry' just smiled slightly, shaking 'his' head. With the strange journal in her pocket, Daphne was barely thinking about the real Harry's muggle family. She had much, much more important things to focus on.
After all, how bad could one muggle family be?