Chapter Seven: The Third Task

"You don't like me."

"I'm sorry?"

"You," Ron Weasley said, with the effort of a troll trying to do basic mathematics, "don't really like me. Do you?"

Daphne looked up from her Charms essay, they were sequestered away in the First Floor classroom that was basically a second home at this point. Harry was doing everything he could to prepare for the Third Task, having gone from simply competing to wanting to prove to everyone who had laughed at him that he could actually do this and win. He was currently trying to stun Hermione, who was standing in front of a stack of cushions, while Ron and Daphne completed the homework that was piling up on them ahead of the exam season.

"No," Daphne admitted, there was no sense lying to him. If even he'd figured it out then he'd just know she wasn't being honest. "Not really."

"Because I'm in Gryffindor?"

"Weasley, if I hated you because of that I wouldn't be here," Daphne sighed, surrendering to the fact that she wasn't going to get her Charms essay done anytime soon. "And I don't hate you, by the way. I reserve that for Malfoy and people who try to talk to me while I'm painting. I just - we don't get on. We don't have to. Nothing says we need to."

"But you're Harry's girlfriend."

"Doesn't mean I'm dating you," Daphne pointed out, it was like talking to a five-year-old. "Look I'm not saying you're a bad person, you're not. I'm sure you've got loads of things going for you." What those were she had absolutely no idea, but everyone was the hero of their own story after all.

"Then why don't you like me?"

She sighed, he really wasn't going to let this go. "When did you start that essay?"

"Today."

"And when was it set?" Weasley shrugged. "It was last week, it's due tomorrow. It's also one of the hardest we've been set all year. That's why."

"Because I don't do homework?" he asked nonplussed. Why did boys have to be so literal?

"Because you think the world owes you something," Daphne was trying her best not to lose her temper, which was never easy when she was talking to Weasley. He just had a way of annoying her that other people didn't. "It doesn't. You get out of it what you put in."

"Like you got Harry, you mean."

"Like you want Granger." His ears turned scarlet. "They both know, by the way." He gaped at her, his embarrassment overridden by shock. "C'mon, did you think you were being subtle?"

"A bit."

"Trust me. You weren't." She cast her eyes back down to her essay, hoping that would be that. He huffed, his eyes drifting to Hermione who was trying to instruct Harry on the best to perform the stunning spell.

"Then why's she not said anything?" She was going to have to do this later. Admitting defeat, she set down her quill and looked at him.

"Weasley, are you really that thick?" He looked like he wanted to explode. Daphne held up her hands, her mouth once again dragging her face first into trouble. "Sorry. It's just, it's not that hard… girls, we want to feel special, especially girls like Granger. Or are you telling me that she wasn't bullied when she was younger?" The silence said it all. "She wants to be loved, she wants to be accepted, cared about. She isn't going to ask you, so either do it yourself or forget about it."

Weasley didn't say anything for a moment, only continued looking at Granger who was smiling at Harry while he sent a red stunner flying at the wall. "I was right, you know."

"About what?"

"You. First time Harry told me about you, told him you were icy," his tone wasn't hostile but he wasn't exactly running around singing her praises either. "You're good for him."

"I know," she joked, more out of reflex than anything else, before adding, "I mean… thanks."

"I never got it before, what he saw in you." Same here. For both of us. "But he needs this."

"What?"

"Being put in his place, told he's messing up. Supported even though he's been an utter prat."

"We talking about you or Harry?" That made him laugh.

"I'm sorry I've been so…"

"For what it's worth Weasley, me too."

They didn't speak about it again after that, but there was definitely less tension between her and Weasley. She wouldn't describe them as friends, but they were friendlier. As the Third Task grew nearer something changed, the two groups began hanging out more together. Instead of dividing their time between their friends, Tracey began joining Harry and the Gryffindor Gang. Blaise would occasionally tag along, much to Weasley's annoyance at first until he realised Blaise was as Quidditch obsessed as he was. Then they were basically inseparable. Astoria, being Astoria, got on with all of them instantly.

It was something Daphne wished she could do but knew would always be impossible. Astoria just had a way with people that completely and utterly escaped her. It was why, despite her family's position and Daphne's abject refusal to be nice to morons, Astoria was able to get on with the majority of Slytherin house. Daphne? She was either hated or admired her for what she was doing, which was frankly ridiculous. She shouldn't be looked up to or despised, she should simply be. All she was doing was dating a boy and trying to pass her exams. It was hardly revolutionary.

The Third Task arrived with plenty of fanfare, as was to be expected for an event that the entire school had been looking forward to for months. Harry was more than a little nervous. Daphne did her best to console him and she liked to think she helped. She wasn't much good with words, but where words failed her she would simply listen to his anxieties. It wasn't much, she knew that, but what frame of reference did she have? Ah, yes. Of course, I know exactly how you're feeling thanks to this super deadly contest I was put into. No, it's completely normal to feel like everyone's out to get you and You-Know-Who is somehow behind it all, that's totally fine.

Crouch's disappearance had done nothing to improve Harry's fears, neither had the fact that Mad-Eye Moody seemed to have taken a particular interest in helping out with his studies. More often than not, Daphne could swear she heard the aged ex-Auror stomping by the First Floor Classroom and more than once Harry turned up with spellbooks that she'd never heard of.

"You're gonna be amazing," she'd assured him the night before the task.

"How do you know?"

"I know you," like it was the simplest thing in the world because it was. Harry was already amazing. He didn't need a task to prove that, nor did he need to beat Diggory or Krum or Delacour. He was a hundred times the wizard Diggory would ever be and for all of Krum's fame, Harry would always be the better person. She wished he knew that. She wished she could tell him, and wished that somehow, someway she could impart onto him just exactly how she saw him. "And besides, even if you completely cock it up, I'll still love you."

The words had just slipped out of her mouth. Moonlight shone a pool of radiant light onto the lake before them, bathing Harry's face in a slightly eerie glow. The lake, where they'd shared so many conversations, the Second Task and (as she quite fondly remembered) the aftermath of the Second Task. She remembered feeling her heart race. Regret. Fear. Panic. Every anxiety-induced emotion it was possible to have crashed over her like a horde of Nifflers that had discovered Gringotts.

"That's good," he smiled, not what she'd been expecting. His hand held hers. He wasn't running away. That was a good sign. Was it a good sign? "'Cause, I've been trying to figure out how to tell you that for ages." He gently kissed her forehead, moving a strand of her blonde hair out of her eyes. "I love you too."

They didn't do much talking after that, but she had a funny feeling he'd at least calmed down for a while.

The respite was, for both of them, short-lived. Harry, because he was about to undertake one of the most difficult tasks of his life, and Daphne because in his infinite wisdom Dumbledore had invited Harry's 'family' to support him. Ever since she'd started dating Harry, she'd had a funny feeling that she wasn't the only one that had feelings for him. Ginny Weasley had never been able to look her in the eye and, judging by the dour expression on her mother's face when Daphne entered the Great Hall at lunchtime, she wasn't the only one that had been hoping for incoming nuptials, church bells, and tiny red-haired Potters running about the place.

"That doesn't look good," Tracey commented quietly. People were milling around them, some shoving to get by as they hurried towards the food that was laid out at the various house tables.

"It doesn't look great," Daphne agreed.

"You could run."

"Where?"

"I dunno," Tracey shrugged, "just not here."

"Real helpful you are," Daphne scowled. Mrs Weasley and a taller man Daphne assumed was either Bill or Charlie, were sat next to Harry at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione were chatting amiably to them, while the Weasley Twins were doing their best to annoy Ginny. Harry looked paler than usual. Daphne, who had spent many a summer dealing with the political infighting of a Ministry dinner party, knew exactly what fake cheer looked like and it was plastered all over the Weasley matriarch's face when Daphne had entered the Great Hall.

"I'd better get it over with."

"Have fun. Try not to die."

"Coward," Daphne hissed after her ex-best friend's retreating back. She was going to kill Tracey. Not that it was her fault. But it was good to blame someone else. Taking a deep breath and trying to steady the hammering of her heart, Daphne forced herself towards the Gryffindor table. This was, admittedly, no longer a sight that baffled the rest of the student body. After months of dating, Daphne refused to eat apart from Harry every evening. The Weasley Twins had welcomed her happily and, she suspected, were one of the main reasons the rest of Gryffindor didn't poison her food or hurl abuse at her.

As a result, instead of grinning in excitement, a fair few of them were sending her the 'rather you than me' look so associated with social suicide.

"Afternoon," George or Fred said merrily as Daphne took the empty space next to Harry. The conversation had died on her way over. It was like walking into a wake dressed as a clown. Harry, to his credit, spoke next.

"Mrs Weasley, Bill, this is Daphne," Harry said, "my girlfriend." He didn't do the rest, she could pick it up from context clues.

"Nice to meet you," Bill said pleasantly, extending a hand for Daphne to shake. He was rugged and handsome, in that dashing dare and do kind of a way that would've had Tracey swooning. Mrs Weasley offered Daphne a tight smile that barely even said hello to her eyes, let alone met them. Don't say anything. Don't you dare say anything.

"It's a pleasure," Mrs Weasley said stiffly, in a tone that indicated it was anything but. At her words, almost every Weasley boy involuntarily cowered, except Bill who rolled his eyes behind his mother's back and offered Daphne a sympathetic smile.

"You too," Daphne smiled, injecting as much false happiness into her voice as she could. Even Ginny looked like she wanted to hide under the table and this was probably for her benefit. All around them people were holding their breath, not wanting to be the one that set off the fireworks.

"Daphne's in our year," Harry pressed on, "well, my year. Her dad's got a stake in Puddlemere United."

"Only a bit of a one. But he likes it, dad's always been mad about Quidditch." Daphne supplied, trying not to sound like she was bragging. No doubt it would come across as though she was trying to say the Greengrasses were better than the Weasleys, which society decided they were because that's how money worked. Not that it should matter. It didn't. Well, it did. Sort of. To some people. But that wasn't what she was trying to say.

"Blimey, you never told us that, Harry!" said one of the twins.

"Yeah, Wood'll love you," added the other.

"And Angelina."

"And Katie."

"And -"

"Yes, we get it. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team will flock to Harry," snapped Mrs Weasley.

"We won't," the Twins pointed out together.

"Puddlemere aren't even that good," Ron said, valiantly trying to come to Daphne's aid, or at least she hoped he was. His mother glowered at him, so it had the desired effect. "What? They're not."

"And how long have you been together?" Mrs Weasley asked with the stiffness of a suit of armour that had been charmed with the power of speech.

"Almost six months?" Harry answered, looking to Daphne.

"Depends if you count the Ball," Daphne pointed out, "but around that, yeah." Mrs Weasley nodded, every movement making it look as though she were in physical pain.

"And your family support this?" What was that supposed to mean? Daphne was dimly aware of Harry taking her hand, it felt like an anchor pulling her back to Earth. Which was good because she could feel her brain starting to freeze with fury, which normally meant her filter failed her.

"Why shouldn't they? My parents love Harry," like I do. Aware of how cool her tone was becoming, Daphne added hastily, "though I guess I won't have as much luck with his aunt and uncle."

Ron smirked. "Even Hermione'd struggle with them."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Mrs Weasley asked, her anger flashing at her son.

"Just that my parents are muggles," Hermione answered, coming to Ron and by extension Daphne's aid.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "they don't like anyone, right Harry?"

"Not really."

The conversation died. It was like watching a butterfly being nailed to the table. Heart-breaking and mildly disturbing. This was the closest thing Harry had to a family and here she was ruining any kind of a relationship she might have with them. And for what? The colour of her robes? The fact that her last name wasn't Weasley?

"Well," Mrs Weasley said eventually, "I think we should have a walk outside and get some fresh air. You lot finish your lunch and we'll meet you outside Harry, dear." She got up, dragged on her smile as though it were a mask she was taking into battle. "It was lovely to meet you, Daphne."

"You too," Daphne forced herself to say, when what she actually wanted to say was get lost, you ignorant cow. But that probably wouldn't go down well. Bill joined his mother as she bustled out of the Hall, and Ginny shot off after them, leaving everyone at the Gryffindor table to stare after Mrs Weasley. One of the Twins let out a low whistle when their mother was out of earshot.

"What was that about?" one of them asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione countered with her usual diplomacy. When every single one of the Weasley boys looked at her nonplussed, Hermione sighed. "Mrs Weasley was obviously hoping that Harry would become part of the family."

"But he is," Ron objected, although the light of dawning recognition flashed behind the eyes of his brothers.

"A little more literally than that, Ronald." Hermione was clearly in no mood to put up with his sluggish mental gymnastics. Daphne, who couldn't care less, was too busy worrying about the set jaw and furrowed brow of Harry to really pay any attention.

"You alright?" she whispered.

"What you mean -" Ron asked, stopping short as realisation finally found his mouth and slammed it shut.

"Not really." Harry muttered.

"Eugh!"

"Ron!" Hermione chastised.

"What? She's my sister!"

"Want to talk about it?" Daphne asked gently. He nodded.

"Oh honestly, as if that's really the problem!"

"Speak for yourself."

They carried on like this for Merlin only knew how long. Daphne didn't even bother making her excuses, she simply got up and led Harry out of the Hall, whispers trailing in their wake. Thankfully, Mrs Weasley had already disappeared into the Grounds. Sheer habit led her worrying feet to the First Floor classroom that they'd made their own. Where dust sheets had claimed tables, Professor McGonagall had banished them and turned it into a wide-open space for Harry and the others to practise.

"You okay?" The door creaked as she shut it, sealing them away from the hubbub of the castle.

"I should be asking you that."

"I've been hated by worse people than Ron's mum," Daphne joked, it was her instinct after all. Flippant when it mattered. Sincere when it was important to lie.

"She shouldn't hate you though."

"People do things they shouldn't all the time," Daphne shrugged. "Do I want her to like me? 'Course I do. I'm not going to lose any sleep over it though."

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"Because one of us has to be," Daphne told him gently, taking his hand and rubbing the back of it with her thumb. She pretty good at blocking out her own feelings when she really, really had to for other people. The cost of being an elder sister. She looked after Astoria, not the other way around. "And because she'll come 'round. Eventually. She's just disappointed, that's all. She just wanted the best for her daughter, where better to find that than you, eh?"

"I'm sorry."

"No," Daphne said, shaking her head. "I'm not having that. You don't have to be sorry for this. It's not your fault."

"But -"

She pressed a finger to his lips, knowing the telltale signs of a classic Harry Potter survivor's guilt spiral. He couldn't not take on issues that weren't his. The Second Task. Malfoy's attack. Even the Tournament. He held the weight of the world on his shoulders because he'd always been told that's what he had to do. The Chamber. Black. The Stone. All of it. All down to him. Not anymore. She wouldn't, couldn't, let him think like that.

"No buts, no maybes, no 'I could've told her sooners' or anything like that." Daphne said quietly. "Sometimes bad things happen, regardless of what we do. All we can do is deal with the hand we're dealt, right now, that's Ron's mum wishing I had red hair and was related to her." Harry let out a small chuckle despite himself. "So, instead of thinking you messed up somehow, which by the way you definitely didn't so just… no. Think about this. Is it worth it?"

Am I worth it? It wasn't a question she liked to ask generally, for fear of the answer, but since the previous night's revelation, she had a funny feeling she might know the answer. It was weird. Being sure. It was like the quicksand she'd been swimming through had stopped trying to kill her. Some days it would come back to life, she knew, but that day it was as smooth as a sandy beach. That day, she was in control.

"'Course."

"Well, there you are then," Daphne smiled, "nothing else to it."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Since I had to start looking out for you," she said playfully. "Now. Why don't you go hang out with them, and I'll see you later."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, someone's gotta tell them how great I am." Harry rolled his eyes, but his face gave away his true intentions.

The rest of the day passed quite quickly and by the time the Third Task rolled around all thoughts of Mrs Weasley's petty endeavour had banished themselves from Daphne's mind. It helped that the Weasley Matriarch was, if not kind, softer towards Daphne as they all made their way towards the Quidditch Pitch. Harry had been sent on ahead while the crowds filled the vast stadium, which of course meant that the houses were kept separate. So, instead of listening to Hermione mither about Harry, or Ron swear loudly at his exploits, Daphne was treated to loud pointed drawls about how long it would take Harry to die.

"Stupid ferret," Tracey muttered under her breath while Draco loudly proclaimed to anyone that would listen that Harry was going to die within the first five minutes.

"He's got to do something," Blaise pointed out, "ever since Greengrass embarrassed him no-one's been paying him any attention."

"Zabini raises a good point," Daphne conceded, her eyes locked on the champions who were all gathered around Dumbledore at the entrance to the vast maze. "Doesn't mean I have to listen to him though." She withdrew her wand and, making sure to wait for a particularly loud cheer as Dumbledore called out Harry's name, she whispered "silencio."

It took Goyle a good fifteen minutes to remember the counter charm and by that time the entire crowd sat in hushed silence. Even Blaise, who had jokingly said at the start that it was a stupid task to watch (given that they couldn't see into the maze), was quiet. Delacour had been pulled out, her skin torn to shred by some vile creature or trap inside. Krum was next. That left Harry and Diggory.

"Reckon he'll win?" Tracey asked in a hushed whisper.

"I just want him to get out of there," Daphne admitted, she had nearly chewed through all of her nails, something she hadn't done since before Hogwarts.

"Krum looked alright."

"Looked out of it too, if you ask me." Tracey pointed out.

"Guys," Daphne snapped, "not helping."

Silence resumed. Daphne had no idea how long she was waiting, how many times she imagined him mauled by some kind of magical creature or cursed to oblivion or his mind addled by some kind of weird trap or spell. She knew all about Curse Breakers and the kind of thing they faced, or the types of Runes that could be planted around the maze. How vile had the Ministry made it? It was a game, right? Just a game. No-one was going to die.

Then, out of nowhere, Harry appeared. One second the entrance to the maze was nothing but a grassy patch and then the next, Harry was hunched over the cup. Diggory was there too. The crowd erupted. Elation. Relief. Daphne felt herself screaming. But the longer the scene stayed, the quicker it all disappeared. Something was wrong. Diggory wasn't moving.

"Is he?" No. He couldn't be.

"Who?" Tracey beamed, jumping up and down.

"Diggory."

"What about him?"

"He's not…" Dumbledore seemed to have noticed what she had. Then some of the other teachers. Then the Minister. It rippled across the cloud like a faint fog, taking cheers from the mouths of overjoyed Gryffindors, jeers from annoyed Slytherins and Durmstrang students. Everyone fell silent. Everyone except Amos Diggory. Those were cries Daphne would never forget.

It would be said later on that the Ministry did everything they could to apprehend the offender. In fact, it would be said later on that the Ministry had no idea who was responsible for such a grave accident. The truth was that the Ministry was about as much use a dragon in Honeydukes. It wasn't the Ministry that noticed Harry being dragged away by Mad-Eye Moody. It wasn't the Ministry that followed them up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office, intent on just seeing if they could help. It wasn't the Ministry that heard Mad-Eye's confession and it certainly wasn't the Ministry that had, with shaking hands and a heart hammering at a million miles an hour, blasted the door off its hinges.

Daphne hadn't known what to expect, hadn't really thought it through, or even acted with a plan as she always liked to do. This had been instinct. It had been anger and worry and heartbreak and concern. It had been wanting to be there for Harry and then realising all too late what was going on. It had been love. Love that propelled her to listen at the keyhole and love that, despite her fear, had revealed the scene before her.

"Put the wand down, girl."

"No." She was aware of her voice shaking.

Mad-Eye Moody, his electric blue eye spinning wildly in its socket, had been blown across the room. She didn't want to know what he'd been doing, but she had a good idea. This wasn't Mad-Eye. She wondered what would've happened if she'd been too late. He crawled to his feet, his wooden leg clunking against the stone as it did so. A cruel smile twisted his already mangled face, making him look like a gargoyle. This was real. This was everything Harry had faced before. Not just Malfoy and a stupid tiff, this was real life.

"This doesn't end well for you." He fumbled in his jacket, but Daphne wasn't going to let herself lose the advantage this time.

"Stupefy!" Her aim wasn't great. She'd been trying to get his chest, but hit him full in the face. He spun on the spot and collapsed, his wand falling from the confines of his traveling cloak and falling to the floor. Daphne hurried forwards, kicking it away and then summoning ropes for good measure. Only when she was sure, absolutely sure, that he was going nowhere, did she finally let herself turn to Harry.

Her heart stopped. His leg stuck out at an odd, clearly broken from something in the maze or that graveyard, whatever that meant. Blood trickled down his forearm, a deep gash cut into it. There were tears in his eyes, shimmering like pools as the candlelight flickered around them. He was shaking.

"Harry," she breathed.

"He's back," Harry spat out, his voice hoarse as though he'd been screaming for hours. "Voldemort. Daphne. He's back."

She stared at him, not wanting to believe it but already knowing it was true. You-Know-Who, the darkest wizard of their time, had returned. It felt as though watching herself from above. It was all too much to handle and so her brain decided not to. She was hugging him. Listened to herself tell him it was going to be alright. Held him as he sobbed. Felt her heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. There was nothing she could do. Not really. So she tried to do all she could.

She just hoped it was enough.