Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R!

This story is a collaboration work between Avoranger and Cal the Wandcrafter!

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The next day was uneventful, as Harry mindlessly went through the motions of classwork, his mind focused on Umbridge, and preparing himself for the lines he was bound to write. He sat in the common room next to Ron, contemplating on how to handle the Defence professor this time around. Slowly, he grabbed his bag and rose from his seat, his eyes darted to the clock. Ron, distracted from his game of chess with Colin Creevy, inquired, "Where are you going?" Hermione, too, looked up from her writing, her brows furrowed in concern.

"Uh, to Umbridge's office. You know I got detention, right?" Ron's mouth formed an 'O' before he shrugged, letting Harry go without much fanfare. Harry shook his head and bolted out of Gryffindor tower. He wanted the detention with Umbridge to be over and done with, so he endeavoured to be as prompt as possible. The sooner it was done, the better, he thought to himself.

Mindful of running into other students, Harry reached for his trusty Marauder map. His eyes skimmed the parchment, studying the pathways he needed to take to avoid prying eyes. However, his attention was soon caught by a familiar name, the person he missed the most. He remembered his plans for their day off before the explosion, and how they had planned a movie marathon of Daphne's favourite spy and heist films. Movie night was always one of their favourite events, when they would order take out, snuggle on the couch with their eyes glued to the telly. Inspiration struck Harry, and he fished out a scrap of parchment from his bag, hastily scribbling a note on it. Daphne was an avid fan of espionage movies, so she would inevitably love this plan.

With the parchment rolled up and nestled in his pocket, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and dashed towards where Daphne was. Fortunately, the route to Umbridge's office coincided with the path to McGonagall's. If Davis were to see him, she wouldn't suspect his true intentions.

Gasping for air after sprinting down from the seventh floor to the first, Harry halted at an intersection, awaiting Daphne's arrival. Leaning against the wall, he caught his breath and watched the map, biding his time. It wasn't long before the sound of bickering between Daphne and Tracey reached his ears. Harry quickly deactivated his map and stashed it away in his bag. Counting down from five in his mind, he readied himself for what was to come.

As the countdown reached one, Harry sprang into action, charging towards Daphne at breakneck speed. Before he knew it, he had collided with her, causing her to stumble and fall. Harry winced, regretting his lack of finesse, but at the same time prided himself in his performance.

"Ah! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to help Daphne up. She looked surprised to see him, drenched in sweat, grinning sheepishly. As they shook hands, Harry surreptitiously passed her the letter he had penned earlier.

Tracey marched down the Hogwarts corridor, her mood as dark as a storm cloud. "Damn Pansy!" she grumbled under her breath, "That wretched witch has broken my record of four years without detention!"

Her frustration boiled over as she purposely bumped into her friend, Daphne. "You don't have to take it out on me," Daphne said coolly, "Go and fight with Pansy. I'll be cheering you on from the side."

Tracey stared at Daphne, incredulous. "You're insane, Daph!" she exclaimed, "Has all that studying during the summer vacation addled your brain? She's the one that got us in trouble, you should help me hex her!""

Daphne rolled her eyes. "There's no correlation between my studies and your temper, Tracey," she retorted, "Besides, we'll be even later for our meeting with McGonagall if you keep dragging your feet."

"I mean, seriously, I should be the one who's angry!" Tracey exclaimed, her voice dripping with drama. "You're the one who fought with Pansy, remember? And now look, my record's all broken! But hey, I don't blame you for it. Pansy's a real piece of work and she deserved way worse for what you did."

Daphne let out a weary sigh, feeling her patience wearing thin as they navigated the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. "Can we please just focus on getting to McGonagall's office?" she interjected, quickening her pace. "I really don't want to run into Parkinson and Bulstrode right now."

With a whine, Tracey struggled to keep up with Daphne, her eyes locked on the path ahead, still simmering with frustration from their earlier encounter. But her attention faltered, and she inadvertently bumped into someone, causing both of them to stumble and fall in a tangled mess.

As they picked themselves up, Daphne's eyes widened in surprise. It was Harry Potter, looking just as startled as she was. They shared a moment of stunned silence before Tracey's fury surged back to the surface.

"Oops! I'm so sorry!" Harry quickly offered a hand to help Daphne up, his face a mix of embarrassment and concern.

"Potter!" Tracey's tone was less than welcoming.

"Hey, Davis," Harry greeted with a hesitant nod.

"Daphne, are you alright?" Tracey turned her attention to her friend, genuine worry replacing her earlier anger.

"I'm fine," Daphne reassured, brushing off their robes with a flick of her wand. "Potter, it seems like you're in a hurry."

"You could say that," Harry replied with a sheepish grin. "Detention with Umbridge, remember? But thanks for standing up for me yesterday," he added with sincerity, though his nerves were evident.

"It was the right thing to do," Daphne said, her previous annoyance softening a bit. "Umbridge shouldn't be teaching with that awful attitude and that dreadful textbook of hers."

"Agreed," Harry nodded. "I wanted to burn that book from the moment I read the first sentence. Anyway, thanks again. At least you two didn't get detention with her as well."

Daphne chuckled. "Don't worry about us. Umbridge wouldn't dare give me detention."

"By the way, what brings you both here?" Harry glanced around. "The dungeons are in the opposite direction, aren't they?"

Daphne winced at the reminder. "We have detention with McGonagall," she replied, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"I see," Harry said with understanding. "McGonagall isn't too tough with her detentions, thankfully, but it will be worse if you are late. I better get going, too. It's getting late. See you around!" With a quick wave, he swiftly disappeared down another corridor.

Watching Harry leave, Daphne realised she had a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. She quickly stuffed it into her pocket, not wanting Tracey to pry into it.

Tracey, who had been standing watching the two of them talk like old friends, looked at the direction where Harry Potter left in surprise, what had happened? Her head tried to process what was happening. Since when did Daphne get along with the Gryffindor Golden Boy, Harry Potter?

"Are you going to McGonagall's office or not?" Said Daphne half-shouting who was already far enough from her. She immediately ran over to Daphne and matched her steps. She blurted the first thing that came to her mind.

"Since when have you been close to Potter?" She asked in a teasing tone. Daphne immediately cursed under her breath.

Harry Potter's heart pounded in his chest as he approached Professor Umbridge's office for his detention. The corridor leading to the room seemed to grow colder with every step, as if an invisible hand was tightening its grip around his spine. He had endured detentions with her before, but this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered the frilly pink room. But this time, as he crossed the threshold into the frilly pink room, there was something different. Something dark. The chill he felt brought back memories to countless Auror raids he had been a part of, and the many times he had encountered warded buildings. The family slimy feel of dark magic made its way up the base of his neck and he couldn't help but shiver in disgust

Despite his initial plan to avoid this detention, Harry resigned himself to facing it head-on once it had been assigned. He had a new idea – maybe he could gather evidence against Umbridge and finally expose her true nature, hopefully leading to her dismissal from Hogwarts.

Professor Umbridge sat behind her desk with an air of self-importance, her presence commanding attention and obedience. The desk, covered in a sickeningly sweet, frilly pink cloth, seemed to mirror her personality perfectly – all saccharine pretence and underlying malice. The surface was meticulously organised, with neatly stacked parchments and various pink decorative items neatly arranged. A small, stuffed cat with beady black eyes perched on one corner, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the room.

As she sat there, her back was ramrod-straight, and her thin lips formed a tight line, giving her an expression of perpetual disapproval. Her toad-like eyes, peering out from behind her square-shaped glasses, were fixed with an unsettling intensity on anyone who dared to enter her office. The cat-shaped brooch on her high-collared pink blouse seemed to watch over her shoulder, as though it were yet another set of vigilant eyes keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings.

Despite the delicate and dainty appearance of her surroundings, the room exuded an underlying menace, as if it were merely a trap waiting to be sprung on unsuspecting victims. Every element of the office seemed designed to project an aura of kind and cruel superiority, to remind everyone who entered that they were under her thumb and subject to her rules.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," Professor Umbridge said, with a twisted smile on her face. "I've brewed some tea for us to enjoy during your detention. Care for a cup?"

Harry took a seat and opened his mouth as he tried to refuse, but a powerful force compelled him to say yes. She already had a glass poured for him, and reached into her desk drawer to remove a pink china cup decorated with girly flowers and cat paw prints, and began to pour a light purple coloured fragrant liquid into it. As he took a sip, he tasted something strange, a bitter undertone that made his stomach churn. "I think I'll pass."

As Harry tried to steady himself, Professor Umbridge's smile widened, her eyes glinting with malicious glee from behind her own cup. "Oh, dear Mr. Potter, you really should learn to trust your superiors. Now, drink up. It's not polite to refuse my hospitality."

His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to resist her command, but his willpower failed him as he raised the glass again. "What did you put in this tea?" Harry demanded, trying to mask his fear with a hint of defiance.

"Sugar and peppermint, Mr. Potter. I'll take another one.," Professor Umbridge said, pouring herself another cup. "I do love the taste of tea. It's a special lavender blend I was given by the Minister for Christmas."

Harry's mind felt foggy yet lightheaded as if the air was sucked from his lungs, and he vaguely recalled a similar feeling from his childhood when the Dursleys had begrudgingly taken him to the dentist, and they had hooked him up to the anaesthetic gas. But he knew better than to let his guard down. He cast a quick nonverbal wandless spell to detect any harmful substances, and what he found was terrifying.

Nothing.

Harry took another sip of the fragrant tea, a peculiar realisation settled upon him like a cold, clammy hand gripping at his throat – there was no trace of magic to be found. It was as if an impenetrable shroud had enveloped the cup, blocking any mystical presence from his senses.

The absence of magic sent an eerie chill down his spine, causing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. It was a disconcerting feeling, one that stirred a deep-seated intuition within him, warning him that something was terribly amiss. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint the exact source of this unsettling sensation.

"I don't feel so good," Harry muttered, his voice barely audible, as if his words were carried away by an unseen force.

To his alarm, Professor Umbridge's sinister smile widened, her eyes glinting with a sadistic glee that sent shivers down his spine. "You'll have to finish your cup, Mr. Potter," she insisted, her voice dripping with deceptive sweetness.

Compelled to obey, Harry found himself raising the teacup to his lips once more, unable to resist the strange urge that seemed to grip his mind. With each passing moment, the room seemed to spin, and his thoughts became muddled and distant, as if he were floating in a haze of confusion. The light-headedness intensified, clouding his judgement and causing him to stumble into a mental fog.

His senses dulled, and he almost forgot about the ominous darkness that had greeted him upon entering the office. The nagging feeling of wrongness faded to a distant echo, drowned out by an overwhelming sense of compliance, as though his mind were operating on autopilot.

No longer able to muster the strength to fight against the unseen force controlling him, Harry felt himself slipping further and further into a trance-like state. His attempts to break free from the compulsion weakened, leaving him disoriented and vulnerable to the cruel whims of Professor Umbridge.

As the seconds stretched into eternity, Harry's consciousness became hazy and disjointed, and he was only vaguely aware of Umbridge extending a dark, black quill towards him. Reality seemed to blur, and he could no longer distinguish between his own will and the sinister intentions that now held sway over him.

As Harry tried to focus on writing his lines, his hand felt numb, but he couldn't stop writing. The blood quill kept piercing his skin, slicing into his flesh like a scalpel as he was helpless to resist.

His hand bled profusely, like liquid pouring out of a faucet, and in the fog of his own mind he was vaguely aware that it was worse than the first time around. His blood... Something was off about it. As if he was bleeding more than normal, also as if his blood had actually been replaced with a dark red water. The lines he was writing were soon lost in a sea of crimson, as his blood stained the desk, dripping into pools on the floor. Harry tried to stop the bleeding, but the blood kept flowing. It was as if the blood quill had opened up his veins and let his life force seep away.

And all the while, Professor Umbridge watched in delight as Harry struggled, a wicked grin on her face.

Hours passed as Harry endured the torture of the blood quill. He couldn't think of anything else but writing those lines of punishment. And no matter how long he wrote, he knew he would never be able to complete them all. The colours began to drain from his body, his skin becoming pale as blood loss had begun to set in - his movement had become sluggish and his breathing slowed. He managed to glance down at the lines he was writing as he could begin to feel the compulsion lift the second Umbridge stood to glance at his paper, which was now completely soaked with his blood.

"I think that will do for now Mr. Potter. Hopefully you have learned your lesson and will not have to repeat this. You are free to go." She took the quill from his hand then paused again. "Oh, and it would be in your best interest not to mention this. I would hate to have to serve anyone else a similar detention. There are a couple first years who caused trouble in my class, after all."

His eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled threat, as he turned and left the classroom without a word. With the detention finally ended, Harry left Professor Umbridge's office, his hand still bleeding. He wanted nothing more than to forget what had just happened, but he knew that he could never wipe the memories or the scars away. This detention was magnitudes worse than what he had gone through originally, and as he ran it through his mind the only thing he could conclude was there had to be something in the tea to make him bleed like that. He made his way around a corner, and quickly cast a Clotting Charm on his hand, noticing just how pale his skin was. "Shit... I need a blood replenisher before I show up to the common room. I need to get to Daph."

As he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, he could feel the weight of the magic that had been used against him. Whatever compulsion was on the doorway it was strong and dark, the type of thing that would get you 50 years in Azkaban at a minimum. It seems to border on legitimacy, and despite his increased prowess in the art of occlumency from the future, it had taken him by surprise before he could throw up his shields. He made his way down the staircase to the floor below as he contemplated the events of his detention, and the compulsion charm embedded in the doorframe wards. He had been aware that Umbridge was evil, that was obvious to anyone who had spent more than 5 minutes in her presence, but he had not realised just how strong and skilled in the dark arts she was. 'She managed to cast a Patronus the first time around,' he thought to himself. 'I'm going to have to be extra careful around her from now on. That takes a special type of psychopath, and I don't even think Voldemort was as depraved as that. At least he had some sort of morals, as twisted as they were. I will definitely have to warn Daphne, she may be on her radar after what she said in class.'

Soon he rounded a corner and saw the bathroom ahead of him where he had agreed to meet with Daphne, as Myrtle's bathroom was closer to the Slytherin dorms than the room of requirement.

As Harry stepped into the gloomy bathroom of Moaning Myrtle, he was grateful to see his girlfriend Daphne waiting for him. "Daphne, love," Harry said, his voice slurred and strained with pain while walking briskly closer. "We need to talk. Umbridge is much worse than we remember. She cast a strong dark compulsion ward on her office, it was just about as bad as the imperious curse. It was heavy dark magic, and I think she poisoned me with something." Harry slumped to the floor and leaned against one of the sinks. His breath hitched, his vision began to dim due to lack of blood. Harry still felt that his hand was still gushing blood from the wound because of the blood-quill.

Daphne's face twisted with anger and concern. "Merlin's Pants, Harry! You look half dead, I've seen vampires with healthier complexions," she said, her hand reaching for her bag. She pulled out a vial of blood-replenishing potion and a jar of murtlap essence. "Here," she said, handing them to Harry. "Drink the potion first," Harry downed the potion, feeling the healing magic coursing through his veins, his balance returning and breath growing more steady.

Upon witnessing Harry struggling to stabilise, Daphne's heart pounded in her chest, and she immediately sprang into action, frantically rubbing the essence on his wound. "Harry, oh Merlin, it's worse than I thought!" she exclaimed, her voice now filled with a mix of desperation and panic.

The essence reacted with alarming urgency, almost as if it sensed the danger. It slithered and seeped, desperately trying to soothe the injury, but Daphne could see that it wasn't enough. Harry winced in agony, and the sight of his pain only intensified her panic as the crimson liquid kept pouring out.

"Fuck... Daphne, remember our DMLE first aid training? I... I need you to try and staunch the bleeding," Harry managed to rasp, his breath strained as he pressed his head against the cold stone wall.

Daphne's visage mirrored the turmoil within him, her rapid breaths echoing the turmoil of her mind. "Harry... I've never had to use that spell outside of mandatory training. I can barely recall the incantation" She pleaded, her mind racing with fear. "I don't know if I can do this right! I-I'm so scared I'll make it worse!" Panic coursed through her veins, adrenaline dilating her pupils as it took hold.

"Daphne, please, focus!" Harry urged, his voice strained from the pain. "You can do this. Daph, slow your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You don't have to close the wound, just stop the bleeding. We can worry about the rest later. Right now, focus. I don't think I have the strength to cast the spell myself. It's a simple one, I'll guide you through it, alright?"

"Damn it... okay, Harry... What's the incantation?" Her voice trembled as she attempted to steady herself.

"Sanguis Sanentur. Repeat it like a chant, with a five-second pause between each repetition. Perform small circular wand movements over the wound, and end each time by touching the exposed part of the cut."

She nodded, her eyes searching for solace. "Okay, but won't it hurt?"

Harry nodded, undoing his tie. "Getting pricked in an open wound is better than bleeding out. Help me use this as a makeshift tourniquet." He handed his wand to Daphne and gripped the side of the sink above his head in a death grip. He began wrapping the red and gold fabric tightly around his wrist, securing it with a firm knot. "Put the wand underneath the tie and help me twist it. No matter how excruciating it becomes, keep twisting, and do not let my hand fall below my head! I've lost a considerable amount of blood, and this spell will take time. We need to stem the flow."

"Alright... it sounds like you've been through this before," she muttered, her hands shaking as she grasped the wand and initiated the twisting motion, prompting a pained groan from Harry. She raised her own wand and began the motions. "Sanguis Sanentur… Sanguis Sanentur… Sanguis Sanentur…"

"Not quite applying a tourniquet, but I've used the spell on Susan a few times," he confessed through gritted teeth, wincing as Daphne's wand prodded his flesh. "A few years before you and I met, we were staking out a warehouse in Knockturn. A couple of snatchers who had evaded the war trials had been holed up inside. When we breached the building, she took a slicing curse to the chest, and was bleeding badly. I thought it may have gotten through to her heart when it hit, so we thought there was no time to wait for medics. I had to rip her bra off right there in the middle of the street to stop the bleeding." A forced chuckle escaped him, and Daphne managed a smile between her chants. "That curse was inches away from taking half her chest off. Luckily, those snatchers couldn't aim for shit."

Daphne paused for a moment, her disbelief palpable. "... No fucking way. Are you telling me those rumours Tracey heard about Susan having only one nipple are true?"

He coughed in embarrassment and flashed his teeth in a smile. "I cannot confirm or deny that her left breast is now slightly smaller than her right."

"And what about the rumour of her sporting a massive scar on her rear end?"

"You know, I never quite believed Mad-Eye when he claimed to have seen someone blow their own buttocks off by keeping their wand in their back pocket."

"... You're kidding."

"Not at all. She shot herself through the left cheek in the training rooms back at the academy. Refused to go to the medical wing, I think she was afraid it would affect her chances of graduating. So, I had to patch her up myself because she didn't want to wait for me to apparate off to get Hermione. I'll never forget the way she yelled at me... 'I don't give a damn about modesty! Rip my knickers off and heal my arse!'" Laughter erupted between them as they savoured the memory, Daphne vividly imagining Susan's outburst and harry trying to hide the pain he was in.

"I knew I should've taken that bet with Tracey."

"Uh, Daph... as much as I'm enjoying our little trip down memory lane, could you focus on my hand?"

"Shit, I'm sorry!" She resumed her wand movements, determined to heal the injured flesh.

"It's fine. I'm always up for reminiscing about how much of a klutz Sue is. Almost as bad as Tonks, that one." He smiled, noting how relaxed Daphne was compared to earlier. 'Trauma Response 101.' He thought. 'Kill the panic, save the patient. Never thought I'd have to apply it in reverse.' He smiled sardonically at himself.

Several minutes passed, and Daphne took a brief break, dabbing a cloth against the back of Harry's hand to assess the flow of blood. Satisfied that it had ceased, she declared, "That should do it. Just be cautious with it."

"Thanks, Daphne," Harry whispered, a tender smile gracing his lips. "I'll take another blood replenisher and close the wound myself. That's a lot trickier than stopping the bleeding." He released the tension on the makeshift tourniquet and reached up to grasp Daphne's hand. "You have no idea how grateful I am to have you by my side."

Daphne returned his smile. "Of course, Harry," she said, leaning in for a kiss. "We're in this together, always."

He returned the chaste kiss and wrapped her into a deep hug with his free arm.

Daphne took a deep breath as she pulled back and grasped Harry's hand again, as her other arm reached into her bag, her fingers searching for bandages amidst supplies. "Fortunately, I remembered you mentioning this detention and came prepared." She turned on the faucet and began to clear the dried blood from the flesh. "However, I didn't expect it to be this bad. She could have killed you! What was she… Thinking…" she trailed off, her eyes fixed on Harry's injured hand, inspecting it closely for the first time as her face went from pale to a sickly green.

"What's the matter, Daphne?" Harry asked, perplexed by the look on her face as she studied his hand.

"Harry, I can almost see your bones through this cut," she said, her trembling voice saturated with fear. "What did Umbridge have you write the first time?"

Perplexed, Harry replied, "I must not tell lies. Isn't that what it says?"

Daphne slowly shook her head and lifted his hand up, fighting to keep the bile out of her mouth as tears began to stream down her face. "It seems she decided to abbreviate it so that you would have more space to write. Whatever compulsion she cast on you must have been incredibly potent if you were not even aware of what you were writing." Harry gazed down at the back of his hand, suppressing the urge to vomit as well, as he watched the silvery white sinew of tendons strain and stretch beneath his skin through the open wound, revealing the stark whiteness of his bones. The word 'LIAR' had been carved into his flesh, searing red and inflamed around the edges of the cuts.

"Daph, I think she was trying to kill me."

Amidst the boisterous atmosphere of the Gryffindor table, Harry sat flanked by Hermione and Ron, his eyes glimmering mischievously as Daphne entered the Great Hall alongside Tracey, just as she did every morning. The exchange of smiles between Harry and Daphne filled him with a sense of warmth and affection. However, last night's encounter with Daphne had left him shaken. He had expected a simple detention with Umbridge, but the cruel professor had surpassed all bounds. Fortunately, the common room was empty when he arrived at Gryffindor Tower from detention, sparing him from answering Hermione and Ron's prying questions about his ghastly appearance. He had to consume two bottles of replenishing potion to restore his vitality, and Daphne's healing had helped to reduce the wounds on his hands. Harry had no desire to recall the message imprinted on the back of his hand.

Harry tried his best to hide his pain during breakfast, but Hermione, ever perceptive, noticed his distant gaze and lack of response. Having received no response from him despite calling out multiple times, she scowled in response, but her expression softened when she noticed what had captured Harry's attention. Determined to get through to him, Hermione called his name again, gently nudging him to break him from his reverie. Annoyed, Harry turned to face her, mustering a nonchalant response, "Morning, Hermione."

"You haven't been listening, Harry," Hermione said, her concern evident in her voice.

"Listening to what?" Harry asked, looking genuinely puzzled. She rolled her eyes in response.

"How was detention with Professor Umbridge last night? I waited for you to return, but I ended up having to go the bed before you made it back," she said, her voice tinged with worry.

"Oh, that. Don't worry; the detention went fine. She just had me write lines all night," Harry replied, shrugging casually before returning to his meal.

"Are you still serving detention tonight?" Hermione probed further, her eyes filled with genuine concern as she regarded her friend.

"Nah, just last night. Why do you ask? Do you need something?" Harry inquired, sensing her unease.

However, Hermione appeared hesitant to speak, as if grappling with a difficult question. Deciding to respect her silence, Harry chose not to push further, assuming she would confide in him if it were truly important.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, pulling Harry's focus away from Hermione's troubled expression.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," the stern professor greeted him, her voice softened with genuine care.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry replied politely.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has requested your presence in his office after class today. Are you feeling well? You look rather pale," she inquired, her concern evident in her tone.

Harry blinked in surprise, not expecting such an invitation. "I'm fine, Professor, thank you for asking," he reassured her with a smile.

"If you say so. Before class, do indulge in a chocolate frog, won't you?" McGonagall advised, before bidding them farewell. "I'll leave you to your breakfast," she said, turning away.

As Harry glanced around the Great Hall, he noticed Dolores Umbridge grinning maliciously with glittering eyes. His appetite instantly vanished, and he snorted in disgust.

But then his attention was drawn to Colin Creevy, who was reading something. "Hey Colin, what are you reading? It doesn't look like the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler," Harry inquired, curious.

Colin looked up, blushing with embarrassment. "Oh, it's a muggle newspaper. My dad sends it to me so I can keep up with what's happening in their world. It's handy when we visit our muggle relatives at Christmas," he explained, shrugging. "And I can check out the prices of the newest cameras there, since the Daily Prophet doesn't have an advertisement section like muggle papers do," Colin added. "Although I know that muggle camera couldn't work in the wizarding world," he said bitterly.

"I never thought of that. Well done, Colin!" Harry praised, impressed. Hermione also looked interested, raising her head to listen.

"Can I borrow it when you're done? It seems quite interesting," Harry requested, as Colin offered the newspaper to him.

"Of course! I've already finished reading it," Colin replied, smiling eagerly.

"Thanks, Colin. I'll return it to you as soon as I'm done," Harry promised, eagerly opening the newspaper to read

"Harry, you can keep it!" exclaimed his friend with unbridled enthusiasm, his mouth still full of food. Harry nodded absentmindedly as he sifted through the pages of the newspaper, searching for something to distract him from the weight of his thoughts. And then he saw it: an article detailing a devastating bombing that had occurred in a small village.

"The bombing took place in a small village on the outskirts of Norwich, Norfolk. The scale of the explosion from this bomb was quite large, comparable to a car bomb, and has damaged several houses and abandoned buildings. Oddly enough, no vehicles were seen around the area before the time of the attack. It was stated that three people were seriously injured, and two people with minor injuries were immediately rushed to the nearest hospital. Fortunately, there were no fatalities. According to confidential sources, traces of pure sulphur and high concentrations of some unknown biological fertiliser have been found at the crime scene. For the time being, the police are still investigating the cause of the bombing and have no leads as to the perpetrators of the bombing. Fears of attacks from the Provisional IRA are abound, however Sinn Féin representatives have denied any knowledge or involvement in the attacks. Unfortunately, this area is still not covered by CCTV yet. For more on Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams and attempts at a peace process, read page 7. For more on CCTV coverage, read page 9."

As Harry finished reading the article, his mind went blank and numb, memories of the past weighing heavily on him. "Excuse me," he announced, gripping at his stomach as he rose from his seat. "I need to use the loo, then I'm heading straight to class, no need to look for me," he added, waving off Ron's confused expression. Hermione watched him go, still looking concerned.

On his way out Harry surreptitiously signalled Daphne to follow him. Understanding the urgency in his gesture, Daphne quickly followed him out of the Great Hall five minutes later. Harry wasted no time and grabbed Daphne's hand, pulling her close as he covered both of them with an invisibility cloak. Together, they hurriedly made their way to Myrtle's haunted bathroom, away from prying eyes and ears.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Daphne asked, her confusion evident as they reached the safety of the deserted bathroom. Myrtle, the resident ghost, was thankfully nowhere to be seen.

Harry looked pale and anxious as he thrust the newspaper into Daphne's hands. "Read this," he implored.

Curiously, Daphne scanned the unfamiliar publication. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief as she absorbed the contents of the article. "What newspaper is this?" she questioned.

"Just read it, please!" Harry urged, his urgency palpable.

Reluctantly, Daphne read on, her expression growing more troubled with each passing word. She looked up at Harry, seeking reassurance. "Are you sure this is a reliable source?" she asked, attempting to deny the gravity of the news.

"I'm positive, Daph! It's a muggle newspaper, and they wouldn't get something like this wrong," Harry explained, pacing back and forth in a state of panic.

As the weight of their discoveries settled heavily on their shoulders, Harry and Daphne found themselves deep in a heated discussion, piecing together the puzzle that lay before them.

Daphne's mind raced with implications as she discussed the series of bombings. "So, the first bombing case was back in 2006, and then there was a gap before they struck again in 2007," she mused. "And it escalated from there until the catastrophic event in 2008 that sent us back in time."

Facing her, Harry nodded, acknowledging her observation. "You're right. I still remember the first file; it mentioned the initial incident in Harvest Alley. There were lots of cattle there, so it wouldn't be surprising to smell ammonia and sulphur after the explosion. The case itself was included in the file because it had the same characteristics as the bombing one year later, namely the smell of that fertiliser." Harry rubbed his face in exasperation and continued, "So that means..."

"This has been going on long before the attacks that occurred from 2006 to 2008? They were attacking in the Muggle world, as not to be detected by the Aurors," Daphne deduced. Harry nodded in agreement. "But how could the DMLE miss this one?" she continued, "I mean… this is eerily similar to the cases we had in the future."

"Everyone was too preoccupied with slandering me and Dumbledore," Harry said, frustration evident in his voice. "The media wouldn't bother with a seemingly insignificant case reported in a Muggle newspaper. Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, the Quibbler... none of them bothered to investigate. It's almost as if someone wanted to keep these bombings hidden and manipulate the situation to shift blame onto others, be it Death Eaters or Muggle terrorists."

Daphne's mind raced, connecting the dots. "It can't be a coincidence we showed up right before this happened… that means there's something else that triggered the time-turner to send us here, to this year, other than the detonation of that bomb. We need to make sure if Wibly is back too or not," Harry rambled, walking back and forth in a panic.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, snapping him back to reality. He turned to her. "How and where would we find Wibly?" Daphne asked, looking at Harry sharply.

Harry winced. "I don't know where he is now," he admitted truthfully, "We hadn't started investigating his profile yet because it was the first time I met him in person. I only had a rough face sketch, Daph! The Ministry didn't really keep records of Squibs, and I doubt the Muggle government has any data on him either," he said frustratingly, rubbing his face again.

"How about we scout out Hogsmeade?" Daphne suggested, trying to ease the tension. Harry ruffled his hair.

"I can't... Hermione convinced me to do… that… again," he groaned.

Daphne couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "What do you mean by 'that'?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Is it the rebel study group for Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Daphne's straightforward explanation. He leaned back in his chair, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Yeah, I'm surprised you know about it. I disbanded the DA after the war ended in 1998," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Daphne's eyes gleamed with interest, and she leaned in closer. "Oh, well, Astoria was also in the DA, you know. So, yeah. I knew about it." She said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

The mention of Astoria caught Harry off guard, and he turned to Daphne with narrowed eyes, a mix of curiosity and concern in his gaze. "What?" he asked, his mind racing to make sense of the revelation. "I don't remember ever seeing her at any of the meetings."

"She was. I walked her up to the seventh floor, multiple times." Daphne explained, folding her arms across her chest, as if daring Harry to react.

"Then why didn't you join last time?" Harry inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "You have to join us this time. We can get to know each other quicker, and I won't have to put up with Cho by myself! I've already ran into her a few times, and it's so uncomfortable!" he grumbled, his annoyance evident.

Daphne chuckled in response, her laughter like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day. "There's no good reason, really," she replied, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. "First, I had no interest, even though Astoria pleaded with those adorable puppy eyes of hers. Second, my Defence Against the Dark Arts grade was already commendable, you know," she added with a touch of pride, teasing Harry good-naturedly. This earned her a pout from the young wizard.

"Third," Daphne continued, "that dumb house rivalry, especially in our year, made it hard to look beyond the animosity between you and Malfoy. And fourth, I could count on one hand the number of words we'd ever exchanged back then. Did you even notice me at all back in those days?" she wondered aloud.

Harry scowled, conceding her points. "Fair enough. BUT… you have to join this time!" he insisted, determination in his eyes. "Would you do me the honour of joining?" he asked, feigning the manner of a prince inviting a princess to dance at a grand ball, his charming smile on full display.

Suppressing a smile to tease him further, Daphne assumed a thoughtful expression. "Hmmm… what is in it for me if I decide to join?" she quizzed, her eyes meeting Harry's, curious and playful.

The spark in his eyes was immediate as he replied, "I guarantee that you will receive an Outstanding for your Defence Against the Dark Arts grade on the O. ! And, you get the honour and prestige of being the one to capture the heart of the boy who lived! Think of all the jealous girls that you get to show off to!" His confidence and assurance were akin to those of a skilled salesman presenting their finest merchandise. He even wiggled his eyebrows, attempting to sway her with his charm.

Daphne couldn't help but burst into laughter at Harry's act, finding it utterly amusing. In that moment, Harry felt his heart soar at the sight of her laughter, the joy of her presence filling him with contentment.

"Merlin's beard! That was hilarious," she exclaimed, once the laughter had subsided. "You're so talented, Harry. It's no wonder you're skilled in the art of politics; Harry Potter, Salesman, Lawyer, and Sweet Talker ," she declared dramatically, making fun of his antics.

Chuckling in response, Harry retorted, "Well, you know, I think I might just be a natural at it. Maybe this time around I'll sell broomsticks instead of dealing with the Wizengamot and the DMLE," a hint of pride glimmering in his eyes as he playfully rolled them.

As she observed his playful antics, a thought struck her. With a raised hand, she interrupted his train of thought and said, "Oh, Harry, speaking of grades, I just remembered something important." Her expression turned serious once again.

Harry raised an eyebrow in jest, "What is it? You don't want to excel in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" But this time, Daphne didn't laugh. He quickly composed himself and cleared his throat. "Sorry. So, about the grades. What's the matter?"

"Harry... despite looking like 15-year-olds in this body, we are much older than seventh-years. Our knowledge surpasses theirs, and the only ones who rival us are the professors!" That statement hit Harry hard; he had never considered that before, even though he almost got caught when conjuring chairs at Sirius' house. He had been quite stubborn.

"Right! I never realised that. I'm so dense!" he groaned.

"You're not dense, Harry. We both are." She grinned. "So, what should we do? I don't want to outshine Tracey's grades. She was one of the top three in our year, and we don't need unnecessary attention."

He looked thoughtful. "I don't want to surpass Hermione either... How about we hold back a bit? We can focus on just a few subjects we're really good at and do our best in those. Or maybe prioritise the subjects that will be relevant for our future jobs."

"That's a good idea. What subjects are you good at besides Defense? For me, it's Charms and Arithmancy. So, I think I'll focus on those two, and for the others, I'll aim for an average level, like I used to be."

"For me..." he pondered. "Charms was not bad; Transfiguration was so-so; Herbology was like gardening, not really my thing; My Potions skills were decent; History… well, it's hard to be good at that class with Binns teaching, and I didn't take Muggle Studies, Runes, or Arithmancy. Divination… no. I'm thinking of talking to McGonagall to drop it; Care of Magical Creatures was okay, I guess. So, I have no idea."

"Then keep up with Defense and maybe also Transfiguration or Charms. What do you think?" She suggested, and he appeared deep in thought.

"Well, I'll think about it. Anyway, has Malfoy or any Slytherin member given you any trouble?"

"Why would he cause trouble with me?" She asked innocently.

"You had a fight with Pansy," he said carefully, reminding her. "I'm sorry about that," he added guiltily.

"Well, he just called me foolish, and let's say I got a little warning from some older students, nothing harmful," she shrugged. "I already forgave you, love. And you don't need to worry; everyone knows who I am."

"Your family, you mean..." Harry blurted out, earning a glare from Daphne. He immediately closed his mouth.

"Yes, that too" She replied sweetly, making him wince.

"But I'm still worried they might target you," he expressed his concern.

She sighed, changing the topic, "By the way, how are you feeling today? Did you drink the replenishing potion again this morning?" She asked with genuine concern.

"I'm feeling better, Daph! Thanks for last night. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up... And luckily, nobody saw me when I got back," he said, shrugging.

"Of course, I'm glad I could help! So, what does McGonagall want? I saw her approaching you earlier," Daphne inquired.

"She just wants me to meet with Dumbledore in his office later. Not sure what it's about," he replied with a shrug.

"I see... oh! Aren't you going to Sprout's class? It's starting soon, you know," Harry checked his watch; there were still five minutes left, enough time to make it to class.

"Right, I need to go. But I still want to spend time with you," he complained.

"Me too, Harry. Me too," she said with a smile.

He sighed again, "Fine! Then see you later. I'll let you know when we should meet again and talk about that thing," he said, giving Daphne a tight hug and a kiss on the lips before heading out.

She smiled as he walked out of the room, but pauses when she heard a giggle from her left. "He's quite the gentleman, huh?" said a ghostly blue head, poking out of the toilet bowl of a nearby stall.

"How much did you hear?" she asked coldly.

"I just saw you two hugging. Was there something spicier before I arrived?" Myrtle sounded excited, at the prospect, and Daphne shivered at the thought.

"No, but he's mine. Stay away from him." Daphne left the room, leaving the curious ghost behind as she made her way to Transfiguration class.

"Come back soon! Harry is always welcome in my toilets!"

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Thanks for Read!