Chapter Twenty – Wounds and Kisses

As Harry and Daphne entered the Great Hall together, they were greeted by the usual sounds of hundreds of students chattering and the clinking of knives, forks and spoons on gold plates and bowls. It sounded like a normal Hogwarts dinner, but it was the little things that gave it away.

They immediately caught Harry's attention as they approached the Gryffindor table. The way Percy sat even more upright than usual, his face even more serious than usual, or the way Colin held his knife so tightly that his knuckles stood out white, or the way Lee Jordan's voice echoed louder than usual across the table as he told a joke about two Veelas, a goblin and a bag and a half of dragon droppings. And their laughter sounded more forced than a few days ago.

It had been raining and storming outside all day, which didn't help the mood, and now the storm was plunging the windows and magic ceiling of the hall into darkness. The rain drummed incessantly against the windows, and thunder rolled in the distance.

It had been a day since Sirius Black had tried to break into the Gryffindor common room. A day since everyone had been forced to sleep in the Great Hall, the castle had been turned upside down and Black had still escaped without a trace.

And a day since the girl he had been crushing on for months had become his girlfriend. Once again Harry felt a smile spread across his face, as it had all day despite the gloomy mood and the rainy weather.

They reached the Gryffindor table and sat down opposite Ron and Hermione. Hermione was engrossed in a thick book in front of her, but Ron looked at them with amusement. "You look dishevelled," he said in greeting.

Harry shrugged. He knew they probably didn't look their best, certainly didn't look like the model students that almost all of their teachers lauded – at least for their magical achievements, not necessarily for their extracurricular activities – but they looked a lot better than they had half an hour ago, slumped on the floor of the Room of Requirement, a battleground of destruction around them, the air filled with the stench of smoke and charred stone. They could have freshened up more, but their fight had given them a murderous appetite that needed to be satisfied. And as great as the Room of Requirement was, it could not create food. They had tried.

"We fought a duel," he said, showing a singed corner of his cloak as if to prove it.

This caught the attention of the others at the table. Lavender and Parvati whispered something to each other before giggling wildly; Harry hadn't the faintest idea what was so funny. Dean and Seamus also exchanged a look before starting to laugh.

"How lucky you are to have each other," Seamus said with a grin. "You're really the only ones who can take each other on. I mean, just imagine if poor Neville was with you, Daphne. He wouldn't last a day."

Daphne pursed her lips at his words, but Harry's head snapped up to Neville. His friend, however, just smiled at him and said, "You make a lovely couple.

It was then that Harry remembered that, yes, Neville liked Susan Bones. Seamus had just made a silly joke. And so he nodded at Neville. "Thanks, we appreciate that."

"And does your boyfriend appreciate you as well, Daphne?" asked Lavender.

"Is he a good kisser?" Parvati added before the two girls broke into another girlish giggle.

Daphne looked over at them as she served herself mashed potatoes and a treacle tart. "Harry's actually a great kisser, just so you know."

Her voice must have sounded quite neutral to the others, but Harry could more than hear the slight amusement in her voice, but that didn't mean she was telling the untruth. He felt it through their bond, she really felt that way, and that realisation made him feel proud. Daphne liked his kisses! She thought he was a good kisser!

But she wasn't alone. He liked her kisses too, a lot. It was, he could say without exaggeration, one of the best experiences he had ever had, maybe even the best.

As he served himself something to eat, another thought crossed his mind. What part did their bond play in how they felt? Would it feel the same to kiss someone whose magic you weren't connected to and whose passion and affection you didn't feel in addition to your lips caressing each other? It was only a theoretical question for him, of course, because he had no intention of kissing anyone other than Daphne. But it was an interesting question all the same. And he knew the answer he wanted, even if it was selfish. But there was something ... satisfying about it. The thought that their experience was something unique, something they had all to themselves. Another of their secrets they kept from the world.

As they continued to talk to their friends, Daphne leaned against him, and he enjoyed the physical contact as he tucked into his meal. Boy, such a fiery duel took a lot of energy.

It was some time later, and Harry was already well-fed, when the Gryffindor Quidditch team came into the hall after training. And if Harry thought he and Daphne looked dishevelled, it was nothing compared to his former teammates. They were soaked to the skin from the rain, and the blustery wind had caused their hair to stick out in all directions. But the most frightening thing was the grim look on their faces when they sat down at the table. It couldn't just be the weather, for Harry knew only too well that Quidditch players were tough.

He gave Fred and George a curious look and asked, "What happened to you?"

"Practice didn't go well," George said.

His twin brother nodded darkly. "Ginny had trouble catching the practice snitches. Then Oliver shouted at her. Then we shouted at him. Then the others tried to calm us down, but they didn't really succeed. Katie burst into tears, Ginny ran away and yeah, all shit. So it's going to be a disaster against Slytherin on Saturday."

It was only now that Harry noticed that Ginny had indeed not come into the hall with the rest of the team. And that Oliver was looking angrier than he had ever seen him before as he maltreated his fried egg as if it made fun of Quidditch.

Oliver noticed his gaze and Harry was proved wrong. His former captain could look much, much angrier.

"You don't have to look like that," Oliver hissed at him. "This is all your fault, isn't it? Just because you betrayed us, we now have to deal with a mentally unstable twelve-year-old as a Seeker."

At his words, the heads of all the Weasley brothers present turned bright red at the same time, even that of the usually reserved Percy, and Ron in particular looked like he was about to go for Oliver's throat at any moment. But before the situation could escalate, Harry replied, "I didn't betray you."

"Of course you did. By putting the welfare of a snake in the grass above your own house. But apparently she is rewarding you well enough for your treachery."

Harry's hands went for his wand, but Daphne put her hand on his to stop him. Keeping her eyes on Oliver, she said, "If you have a problem with me, Wood, we can settle it the old-fashioned way."

Oliver gave her an angry look, as if he really believed what he was saying about her. He looked like he was going to burst at any moment, and Harry almost thought he was stupid enough to take Daphne up on her offer. But then Oliver inhaled sharply and shook his head. "I know I would be no match for you in a duel, Greengrass. But I hope you'll be satisfied that you've crushed this proud house's hopes of winning the Quidditch Cup. Because of you, I shall leave Hogwarts without having won the Cup even once."

With that, Oliver rose from his seat and hurriedly walked away. Harry thought he saw tears streaming down his face.

An awkward silence had fallen over the table. Fred and George shook their heads in disbelief and even Hermione looked up from her book, frowning. It took a few moments for the scattered conversations to start up again, but Harry kept seeing people looking over at him. At him and at Daphne.

"And why am I suddenly the bad guy in this story?" she asked.

Harry squeezed her hand. "You're not. Oliver's always been a little off in the head. A brilliant Keeper, sure, but completely obsessed." He leaned down and kissed her dark hair. "I'd choose you over Quidditch any day."

Fred and George whistled as Ron grinned at them. "Hey, we're eating here. Find a broom cupboard or something."

Harry and Daphne exchanged glances. An expectant smile formed on Daphne's lips. Harry didn't even need their bond to know what she was thinking at that moment.

"Um, we still have detention with Lupin, by the way," he said. And that wasn't even a lie, although they still had a bit of time to get there.

"Right, and we need to get there as soon as possible. We're already late." With that, Daphne took his hand and pulled him up with her.

They waved goodbye to their friends before hurrying out of the Great Hall as quickly as they could. Amused laughter rang out behind them.


Glumly, Hermione watched the two of them. The way they held each other's hands and giggled as they left the Great Hall... she had to pull herself together not to snort loudly. Or burst into tears. Again.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

It was always Daphne. Always Daphne. Daphne, Daphne, Daphne.

Daphne this, Daphne that.

Harry was obsessed with her. He had eyes for no one else. For his friends who had known him for a long time. Who liked him and wanted to be there for him. Who would also like some of his time and attention. But no, he spent every free minute with Daphne. Surely they were licking each other again by now, exchanging spit like two thirsty llamas.

Hermione knew she was giving in to her worst feelings right now, but she couldn't help it. Until yesterday she had still hoped that it could be her ... that it could be her going into dark broom cupboards with Harry. That he would kiss her hair and defend her when someone insulted her. That together they could be the best students in their year, united in their ambition and their feelings for each other. But in all this, Daphne had beaten her. While they had spent their day yesterday celebrating Halloween and being afraid of Sirius Black, she had snatched Harry away. And she wasn't going to give him back, Hermione was sure of that.

And if she was completely honest with herself, Hermione thought, she hadn't just lost Harry to Daphne yesterday. When they had returned from whatever it was yesterday, holding hands and exchanging kisses and caresses, it had only sealed what she had feared all along. What she had closed her eyes to in her naive, foolish hope.

Hermione sighed softly. It was no use. She didn't want to lose Harry. She just had to accept that he would always be just a friend to her, nothing more.

But it would be nice if he would even treat me like a friend again, she thought. At the moment we only see each other at meals and in class.

Looking back, how wonderful the time had been after Halloween in their first year, when Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll and their friendship had begun. When they had studied together, done their homework together and spent hours speculating about who Nicholas Flamel might be. But those days seemed to be over.

"Would you like to play chess with me later?" Ron's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She looked at him and found his blue eyes fixed on her. He smiled at her, but she also saw the concern in his eyes. Was she such an open book?

"Have you finished your essay for Charms?" she asked.

Ron nodded. "Yep. Finished it before dinner. And all the other homework is done too."

Hermione forced a smile. It wasn't like she could spend the rest of the year mired in heartbreak. She had to move on, and besides, it was Harry's own fault if he overlooked a witch as charming and intelligent as her. She was Hermione Jean Granger, she was going to make her own way in life and she was certainly not going to let silly boys get her down.

"Then I'd love to," she said, her smile becoming more genuine. "Who knows, maybe I'll win today for once?"


The events had not gone unnoticed at the teacher's table either.

"Quite a fire in your house," Albus said to his deputy and good friend, his eyes following the departing Harry and Daphne.

Minerva turned to him and smiled, half amused. "Teenagers being teenagers and acting like teenagers, that is nothing new. But I need to have a serious talk with Wood. But first" – she turned to her seatmate and held out her hand – "I think you owe me ten galleons, Pomona."

The Herbology teacher shook her head sadly, but reached into one of her many pockets and pulled out the coins. "That these two would let me down like this. But apparently they need more time. What a pity."

"You made a bet?" asked Albus curiously.

"Who would get together first," Minerva said. "Pomona was quite convinced it would be Miss Bones and Mr Longbottom, but I knew I could rely on our two prodigies. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they've been together for months and just kept it to themselves all this time. They really do combine the best and worst of both their houses."

Albus' gaze drifted to Severus, but if he had overheard anything of the conversation, he didn't show it. Stubbornly, he looked ahead as he slowly ate his steak, well done and without any gravy.

Albus turned back to the two women on his right. "Please imagine that I am now strongly admonishing you not to bet on our students' love lives and to behave more professionally in the future." He looked at them sternly. "And next time I do not want to hear about it afterwards. I would have liked to take a few galleons off you too, Pomona, because it was quite obvious that Harry and Daphne would win the race if you had two eyes in your head. No offence to Miss Bones and Mr Longbottom, but they seem to lack the initiative spirit of – what did you say, Minerva? – of our two prodigies."

Pomona just smiled to herself. "Yes, I can understand that. But I must also support the students of my house, if only in a, er, collegial exchange of views."

"No doubt," Albus said with a nod. "Solidarity and loyalty are important virtues, and we teachers must always lead by example."

His eyes fell on young Miss Weasley, who had just taken her seat at the Gryffindor table and was immediately surrounded by her brothers, who tried to comfort and cheer her up. But they didn't seem to be succeeding, if he read the expression on the girl's face correctly. Her red eyes showed more than clearly that she had cried not long before.

Turning back to Minerva, he said quietly, "Harry is quite the heartbreaker, isn't he?"

"Probably," Minerva said. "I suppose he gets it from his father, especially after James only had eyes for Lily. But the girls will get over it. They're all still so young."

"I suppose that is true. Makes you feel pretty old, doesn't it?" Albus chuckled.

At his words, another member of the faculty gave him a stern look. It was Poppy Pomfrey, the school healer. "Age is no excuse for not eating, though," she said, pointing at his plate, which still had half a chicken breast with carrots and vegetables on it. "I've told you many times that you need to eat more, Headmaster, or you'll collapse one day."

Albus stifled a sigh and said instead, "Of course, Poppy. I was just taking a break."

With that, he picked up his fork and knife again and resumed eating, even though he really had no appetite. This had been going on for a while now, and it had led to Poppy watching him with hawk-like eyes at every meal.

It was because of his mental battle with Tom, he had come to that conclusion after much deliberation. Every night he locked himself in his study and tried to extract his secrets from his adversary, and it was an uphill struggle with many defeats and only rare successes. And the struggle left its mark on him. But he would not give up until he had found and destroyed all the Horcruxes, and the threat that Lord Voldemort posed to this world had been banished once and for all. Only then would he be able to relax, and who knew, maybe his appetite would return.

How long would that take? He could not say. Two Horcruxes had already been destroyed, the diary that Harry and Daphne had destroyed, and the diadem that he himself had destroyed in that wondrous room on the seventh floor. Then there was Helga Hufflepuff's cup, hidden in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringotts. He could only get to it with the help of the goblins and the Ministry. He had taken the necessary steps months ago, but unfortunately the wheels of Ministry administration and banking bureaucracy grind slowly. He had to wait patiently, hard as it was for him.

So far he had only seen images of the other Horcruxes flashing in Tom's mind. A ring and a locket, those were the objects, he was sure. But where they were hidden and how they were protected, he had not yet been able to find out. And so he had no choice but to continue his lonely fight every night, no matter how much it sapped his strength. He had no other choice.

I owe it to them, he thought, chewing on a potato. I owe it to future generations to right my wrongs. Harry, Daphne, young Miss Weasley and all the other children out there. I can't let them down. Not again.


On their way out of the Great Hall, Harry and Daphne had passed Ginny. Harry had waved to her, but at that moment a group of chattering sixth years had passed them and she hadn't seen him. Ginny's face was hidden behind her red hair, but he could still see that she looked glum and dejected, quite a contrast to the usually happy girl he had come to appreciate.

"The Quidditch practice really seems to have taken its toll on her," he said to Daphne as they walked up the stairs. "We should really go to the game on Saturday to support her and the others and cheer them on."

"Harry, sometimes I really wonder if you're blind."

He gave his girlfriend a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you think Hermione is so grumpy?" asked Daphne. "And why is Ginny so upset that she's failing the practice, when she's never had any trouble catching the practice snitches before? And why they're both probably cursing my name before bed? Not that I mind. In fact, I can't think of anything more pleasant."

It took Harry a few moments to realise what she meant. And even then, he still couldn't believe it. "Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully. "Even Hermione?"

"You didn't notice?"

He shook his head. No, he hadn't noticed that in addition to his one friend's little sister, his other friend also had a crush on him. How could he have noticed? Girls were weird and he wasn't clairvoyant.

"And that's why witches are better at thinking," Daphne said. "But your cluelessness also reassures me. Because now I know why you never did anything about her flirtations."

With that, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest broom cupboard. Before the door closed behind them, his arms were around her waist and hers around his neck. Their lips met in a passionate kiss that they had been holding back.

Harry's hands moved down Daphne's body, through her soft, silky hair, over her shoulders, down her back. When his hands accidentally brushed over her bottom, he winced, but Daphne made a sound of obvious pleasure. She pressed against him, her fingernails running through his hair.

He didn't know how much time had passed, how long they had been caressing each other's lips when they finally pulled away to catch their breath, but it must have been several minutes. Their eyes met.

"Your kisses make my heart race," Daphne said. Her tongue trailed over her lips. "And I love the taste."

"So you meant what you said to Lavender and Parvati, hmm?" asked Harry with a satisfied smile.

"Please don't talk about other girls when we're alone here. Or I'll get jealous and that wouldn't end well. For the other girls."

She closed the gap between them and kissed him again. A pleasant shiver ran through Harry's body as he kissed her back and their tongues competed.

Again, several minutes passed before they pulled away, breathing heavily. Daphne's golden eyes sparkled brightly in the dim light of the torches that fell through a crack in the door of their cupboard.

Harry gently brushed a strand of black hair from her face. His fingers slid over her soft, flawless skin and she leaned her cheek against his hand. He felt like he was in a dream, a beautiful, sensual dream, but like any dream, one had to wake up and face reality at some point.

"We should keep moving," he said quietly. "Lupin's probably waiting for us."

Daphne shook her head. "Not yet."

"But we agreed to continue practising the Patronus Cha–"

He didn't get to finish the sentence because Daphne's lips were on his again.

Okay, we can certainly come a bit later today, Harry thought as he kissed her back.

Daphne's hands gently stroked his chest and neck, giving him goosebumps all over. Then her left hand took his right and placed it on her bottom. Harry could feel the blood rushing to his head, but he did not withdraw his hand. Instead, Daphne pressed herself even closer to him, as if she wanted their bodies to merge.

Or maybe not at all, Harry corrected himself.

Daphne purred in agreement, almost like a cat.

They both knew they wouldn't be leaving this broom cupboard for a long time.


In the end, they didn't turn up for detention. Lupin deducted points and gave them another week of detention, but Harry and Daphne didn't care. It was a strange feeling for both of them, but maybe sometimes there really were more important things in life than studying and training. In any case, they had found a new favourite pastime when they were alone, and even when they weren't.

It was, Harry was sure, the best time he had ever spent at Hogwarts, even if the weather did not necessarily reflect his inner happiness. It stormed and poured all week. It was so dark in the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns had to be lit. It was the kind of weather that would make any sane person, crow or other sane creature shudder at the thought of setting foot outside.

Or as wizards and witches would say: Perfect Quidditch weather.

And so, the following Saturday, the young couple found themselves in the Gryffindor stands. All around them, people were screaming, hooting, hollering and jumping to cheer on their team, so much so that the stands were shaking. That, or the gusts of wind that tore at the stands. And then there was the steady rain that was beating down on the tarpaulins above their heads.

Not that there was much to see, let alone a team to cheer for. After a few metres, the view was lost in a grey swirl of water, wind and darkness. Only occasional flashes of lightning gave a glimpse, for a split second, that there were still two teams out there playing against each other. But a score of forty to twenty after nearly an hour of play suggested that the players were having their own problems with the stormy weather.

Harry, for one, was glad that he didn't have to do his rounds on his broom in the foul weather, looking for the snitch. Besides, he had found a better occupation anyway. For, as so often, he found himself with his lips on Daphne's.

Man, whoever invented kissing must have been a true philanthropist. He should give that person a gift basket if he ever met them in the afterlife; after a long, full life of kisses like this, of course.

Daphne giggled as she caught his thought, but she didn't break the kiss. Instead, she opened her mouth, their tongues found each other and –

"Can't you even keep it together around here?" Hermione's voice cut them off. "Even for a few minutes?"

Harry and Daphne pulled away from each other, and suddenly Harry felt the stormy, rainy weather hit him all the harder. Where there had been warmth, there was now cold. Where before Daphne's inviting softness had caressed his lips, now he felt the roughness of this November afternoon and the wet wind. Where before his inner self had sung with happiness, in perfect harmony with the girl in his arms, now there was oppressive silence.

Once again he wondered if they were the only ones who felt this way when they kissed, or if it was a universal feeling, regardless of whether the magic of the kissers was bound together by an intimate bond, as it was with them. But if the latter was the case, why didn't people kiss all the time?

He looked at Hermione. She was wrapped in a thick cloak and two scarves, plus gloves and a plush hat that covered her bushy hair. It was clear how much she disliked all of this – Quidditch, the weather and apparently their caresses.

"We can't see anything anyway," Harry said, pointing to the dense grey in front of them.

Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice came to them from the distance. At least he seemed to be able to see something, and apparently Fred – or George – had just hit Flint in the stomach with a bludger, making him vomit on his broom. That was something that he would have liked to have seen! But as it was, they saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"We can still cheer," Ron said. He put his hands to his mouth and shouted as loud as he could, "Show them, Ginny! Get that snitch and make Malfoy cry!"

Harry jumped at the shout, though he doubted anyone but his eardrums could hear it out there in the roaring wind.

"But we're cheering," Daphne said. "I even show your colours."

Sure enough, two thick stripes of red-gold adorned each of Daphne's cheeks, and not even the rain had been able to wash out the colours. It was the most beautiful Gryffindor red-gold Harry had ever seen.

"And it looks great on you," he said with a grin.

"But isn't it also kind of, well, a betrayal of your own house?" asked Hermione.

Before Harry or Daphne could say anything back, Ron waved it off. "Nah. Straying from the wrong path in time, I'd call it. And besides, Daphne's almost a Gryffindor anyway. Hagrid even gave her points for Gryffindor instead of Slytherin the other day."

"Because I asked him to," Daphne said. "I don't care about the points, but if I can make Harry happy with it, I'll gladly do it."

She looked at him, a smile on her lips that he returned with all his heart.

"You're just the best," he said, leaning in to give her a kiss of thanks before Hermione grabbed his shoulder.

"Oh no, you lovebirds! Not again! At least try to keep it together for the rest of the game."

"If anything, we are lovecrows," Daphne muttered, but so quietly that only Harry could hear her.

Her words made him laugh – when suddenly the laughter caught in his throat.

As if by magic, all sounds, the wind, the storm, the commentator and every single spectator, fell silent. An eerie silence fell over the stadium. It was as if someone had turned off the sound, as if he had suddenly gone deaf. And not only that. A terrible wave of cold washed over him, penetrating him and sucking out any sense of happiness.

Harry had experienced this feeling once before, just before the start of term, when the Dementors had taken up their positions at the edge of the castle grounds. So he was not surprised when the next moment he saw the dark outlines of those monsters hovering over their heads, dark and cold, even darker and colder than the grey storm clouds.

His fingers closed around his wand before he had even made the decision to do so. "Expecto Patronum."

"Expecto Patronum," repeated the familiar voice of Daphne beside him, who had also drawn her wand.

A faint, silvery mist escaped from the tips of their wands, and instantly Harry felt the cold and sense of crushing despair ease a little.

He looked at his girlfriend. "What are they doing here?"

"Dining,'" Daphne said. "It's a feast for them. They feast on our emotions like maggots on bacon." Her voice was completely neutral, as if she wasn't saying anything more than that white paint was white.

Hermione had wrapped herself even tighter in her scarf and Ron's face had turned ashen. They weren't the only ones. Throughout the stands, every expression of joy, of vivacity, had vanished. Some students were shaking their heads in a daze, others were shaking and trembling, and two first year girls a few rows in front of them began to cry.

Harry was unsure what to do when he heard something. Music coming towards him from a distance, getting louder and louder.

The music was beautiful, in fact he thought he had never heard anything as beautiful and sublime as this music. It touched his heart and awakened memories in his mind, the feeling of the grass beneath his bare feet, the wind rushing through his feathers, the blood running over his skin and the taste of it on his tongue...

Only one kind of magical being was capable of such music, and indeed, as Harry looked up, he saw Fawkes in the sky, scattering the crowd of Dementors like a fiery bolt of lightning. And accompanying the phoenix was a silver image of himself, matching him perfectly in every way but colour.

Harry watched in awe, and a little envy, as the crushing influence of the Dementors was pushed further and further back. So this was what a corporeal Patronus looked like.

The rain stopped. The sky cleared and, for the first time, Harry could see the whole stadium. Spectators were standing in the stands everywhere, their heads turned skywards, their mouths open in amazement. Except for one man. On the far side of the stadium, he stood like a wizard of ancient legend, his beard flowing and his arms raised high as his wand guided his Patronus.

It was at this moment that Harry truly understood for the first time why Dumbledore was said to be the most powerful wizard in the world, the only one Voldemort had ever feared. Even from this distance he could feel Dumbledore's power, almost as if it were physically tangible.

But... Harry wasn't sure at this distance, but he thought Dumbledore's face was growing paler. And then, suddenly, his arms began to tremble. No one seemed to notice, no one except Harry, because everyone was still looking up at the two magical birds.

Dumbledore's trembling increased and soon covered his entire body. Then he collapsed – and a deafening scream echoed through the stadium.


It turned out that there had been one other person besides Harry who had not been paying attention to what was happening in the sky. Draco Malfoy, of all people, had kept a cool head and used the moment when everyone else was distracted to spot and capture the Golden Snitch. Oliver's scream of despair had probably been heard as far away as the Ministry of Magic in London. But he could scream all he wanted, it was no use. Gryffindor had lost the match, sixty points to one hundred and eighty.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered from his collapse, for the next time Harry saw him, as he left the stadium with the others, he was talking wildly to an Auror. The poor man slumped more and more, giving the impression that he would rather be anywhere else at the moment than face Dumbledore's wrath.

Harry and Daphne slumped back a little. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, they were all trying to cheer up the devastated Ginny, but Harry didn't think they were succeeding very well. Dejectedly, Ginny looked down at the floor as she mechanically put one foot in front of the other, her hands clutching her Nimbus 2000, next to which she looked decidedly small at that moment.

Harry sighed. He would also have liked her first game to have ended differently than losing to Draco Fucking Malfoy, but he didn't think he could contribute anything useful to cheer her up at the moment. After all, he had won all his games.

"Do you think Fawkes would let us fly with him sometime?" asked Daphne next to him. She had a pensive look on her face. "I imagine it would be an impressive experience."

He shrugged. "Well, we could ask him, but I'm afraid my Phoenix needs some work."

"I'm sure Fawkes would understand anyway. Phoenixes are almost as clever as crows."

Harry took Daphne's hand and was about to follow the others back to the castle when more people came out of the stadium. It was Malfoy and his cronies and – Harry shuddered at the thought – his fangirls.

"Oh Draco, that was so incredibly impressive!" boomed the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson, making Harry want to rip his ears off every time. Or rip her throat out. "And you looked so good on your broomstick! Really delicious!"

"Yes, a great performance," Tracey Davis said. "You should think again about a professional Quidditch career. You'd put all the other Seekers to shame, easily."

Millicent Bulstrode nodded as eagerly as a silly chicken. "Unlike that Weasley bitch," she laughed hideously. "She almost cried afterwards, it looked so funny!"

But it was another voice that made Harry cringe the most.

"Oh, Draco, you really must show us again later how you caught the Snitch. I didn't even get a good look at it." It was the voice of Astoria Greengrass, and like the other girls, she too surrounded Malfoy with an adoring expression on her face.

Next to Harry, Daphne froze, her features as hard as ice. Her eyes bored into her sister, and as if she could feel it, Astoria turned her head towards them.

For a few seconds, the two sisters just looked at each other. Then Astoria let out a contemptuous snort and walked on, her chin raised. At that moment, she even bore some resemblance to her big sister, Harry thought, but her pride didn't seem as well-earned as Daphne's. After all, what could pride be worth when you were throwing yourself at a pathetic wretch like Malfoy?

At that moment, Malfoy said something and all the girls around him started to giggle. Harry suppressed the urge to throw up.

Daphne clicked her tongue. "I don't know about you," she said, "but I could do with a little distraction. Let's go catch a rabbit. Or maybe we'll get lucky and find a boar. They last longer, and Morgana knows I could bloody well do with that right now."

So instead of returning to the castle with the others, they headed for the Forbidden Forest. It was just as well for Harry. The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table for dinner tonight, and even more so in the common room, would be incredibly oppressive.

In fact, he was also looking forward to letting off a little steam, though probably not as much as Daphne, if her hard face and trembling hands were anything to go by. His girlfriend was seething. He'd better get her an animal to cool off with, pronto, or she'd commit murder the next time she saw Malfoy. And that would only mean stress.

So he let his eyes wander over the edge of the forest, looking for movement in the undergrowth. But nothing moved. Not a sign of a rabbit, a hare or even a small mouse. It seemed that the animals of the castle grounds had really given them a wide berth. They would have to go deeper into the forest to find anything.

Harry was about to suggest to Daphne that they change into their crow forms when he suddenly saw something. Beside a tree, hidden behind a large bush, something was moving. A faint aura shimmered between the leaves. An animal. Now they couldn't let it escape.

He pointed to the bushes. Daphne nodded. They both drew their wands and crept slowly towards it.

But as they approached the bushes and the animal's aura, Harry noticed something. It took him a few seconds to realise what he was looking at, but then it was as clear as the sun in broad daylight. The animal's aura, he had seen it before. But it had been stronger then, though not necessarily strong.

He motioned for Daphne to stop. She frowned but stopped.

What's wrong?, her lips formed silently.

Harry nodded towards the bush and with a wave of his wand made it disappear. Now the view of the animal was clear and Harry saw his suspicions confirmed.

Behind the vanished bush, a dog lay on the mossy, rain-soaked ground. They had seen this dog once before, less than a week ago, in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest, when Daphne and he had followed the call of a mysterious magic.

Then, the dog had been haggard and wild, but compared to now, he had been full of life. For now he was wounded. His shaggy black fur was covered in a web of scratches and bleeding wounds. Parts of his fur had been torn off here and there, exposing raw flesh. The dampness of the forest clung to his fur, mixing with blood, mud and the remains of leaves and pine needles. Splinters of wood protruded from some of the wounds, some as long as Harry's wand.

The dog's body was still, but his breathing was shallow, as if it was an effort just to breathe. Every rise and fall of his chest seemed to hurt the dog, and his legs, which had been running through the forest only a week ago, were now twitching erratically, another sign of the pain running through his wounded body. The dog's eyes had darkened to a dull, almost murky shade, as if a veil had fallen over them, and Harry wasn't sure if he was even aware of what was going on around him.

"That's the dog from Halloween," he said. "The one we saw in the forest."

"Dog works too," Daphne said, pointing her wand at the animal. "Cru–"

"No!" Harry grabbed her arm. "Don't!"

Daphne looked at him in disbelief. "No? You were about to kill him yourself in the forest."

"If he had attacked us, yes. But he's hurt, Daph. We can't just ... that would be inhuman. He's not a rat or a rabbit."

"Interesting where you draw the line, Sir Harry."

Harry looked at her. Despite their bond and his feelings for her, he found it difficult to empathise with her at moments like this.

"Doesn't it make a difference to you?" he asked, trying to make her understand his thoughts. "I mean, even though we eat meat, we wouldn't eat any meat served to us, would we?"

"Interesting analogy," Daphne said. You could hear in her voice that she didn't share his opinion, but she didn't want to argue with him.

Harry squeezed her hand, hoping she would feel his gratitude through their bond. And indeed, a slight smile played around her lips as she brushed her black hair out of her face.

"So what do we do now, animal lover?" she asked.

"How good are your healing spells?"

"Terrible, but better than yours."

"Do you think we could heal him together?"

Daphne clicked her tongue, but crouched down beside the dog. Her eyes swept over his injured body.

"Basically, it's no different than placing or dissolving an enchantment," she said. "Except that a living thing's body might be a little more complicated than an eyeglass lens or a wand holder. But it's basically the same principle. And there are two of us, and together we've managed to do everything we've set out to do so far." She nodded slightly. "Yes, we can heal him, I'm sure of it. Whether he will survive is another question."

"That would be beneficial," Harry said, crouching down beside Daphne. Their eyes met. "Then let's get started before he dies."

They both took a deep breath before pointing their wands at the injured dog. Harry placed his hand on the animal's shivering body. It seemed to be losing warmth quickly, they had to hurry.

At the same time, they began to murmur soft incantations. A soft azure glow emanated from the tips of their wands, enveloping the dog in a shimmering mist. His heavy breathing subsided and a little colour returned to his pale eyes.

As they worked together, their magic merged effortlessly and Harry felt the familiar, comforting, bloody taste on his tongue. Their magic intertwined, weaving a cocoon of healing magic around the dog.

Daphne focused her healing magic on a particularly deep wound on the dog's flank. With a whispered spell, the edges of the wound fused together, leaving a pale, whitish scar.

Silence had fallen around them, or so it seemed to Harry. His heart beat slowly but strongly in his chest as he channelled the flow of magic through his body. The canopy of leaves above them filtered the golden rays of the setting sun, casting a cool, dim light on the scene, but even in that dim light Harry could clearly see their magic working, the wounds gradually closing and life returning to the creature before them.

Harry and Daphne exchanged knowing glances. A smile played on their lips. They continued their healing spells, pouring their magic into the dog.

Slowly, the dog's trembling stopped and soon the last scratch on his body disappeared. The azure glow surrounding him began to dissipate. The dog now looked peaceful. His eyes were full of life again and fixed on them. He looked them straight in the face.

"Hey, you," Harry said, lowering his wand. Next to him, Daphne did the same. "What have you been up to? Did you run away from a monster and hurt yourself? You looked awful."

The dog put his head to one side, but his tail began to wag. Harry grinned at him.

"You'll have to take better care of yourself. You –"

Before Harry could finish, the dog suddenly jumped up from the ground. Harry raised his wand and cursed himself for being so trusting, but he was too slow. Before he could react, the dog had licked his face.

Harry froze, his thoughts of violence forgotten in an instant.

Okay, this was not what he had expected.

A laugh rang out beside him, a bright, musical laugh, but it was clear that the owner of the laugh was laughing at him. "If only you could see yourself," Daphne laughed, "Harry Potter, vanquisher of Voldemort and Slytherin's basilisk, overcome by a drooling, slobbering –"

With a quick turn, the dog turned his attention to Daphne. He took a leap and was upon her, licking her face as well.

This time it was Harry who laughed out loud as Daphne pushed the dog away from her.

"Alright, no more kisses for you," she said sombrely.

Harry clutched his heart. "You can't be that evil."

"Oh yes, I can. After all, this was all your idea. This is your fault!"

The dog barked loudly and Harry thought it sounded amused and, most importantly, alive. Another smile spread across his lips. It was a strange but somehow satisfying feeling to see what they had achieved with their magic. For once, they had saved a life instead of taking it.

The dog barked a few more times before turning and running off into the forest, tail wagging. Moments later, the trees and bushes had swallowed him up.

Left behind were Harry and Daphne, who watched the dog's disappearing aura with a satisfied look on their faces.

"Well, that was something," Daphne said.

"Thank you, Daph."

She looked at him. "You don't have to thank me."

"And yet I do," Harry said.

Daphne nodded slowly. Then she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Let's go back. I've had enough real animals for today. A conjured rabbit will do for letting off steam."

"For you, Daph, I'll even conjure two today," Harry said with a smile. "And maybe even a wild boar."

"You are such a charmer. You just know how to take a witch's heart by storm."

"Only your heart, Daph. Only yours."


After the tumultuous events surrounding Black's attempted break-in on Halloween and the eerie surprise guests at the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, Hogwarts enjoyed a few quiet weeks. The castle, which had previously been filled with turmoil and speculation, seemed to quickly return to normal.

Classes went on as usual and the autumnal chill gradually gave way to an icy wind. In early December, the long-awaited first snow arrived. It covered the grounds of Hogwarts like a white blanket, enveloping the trees, the paths and the castle itself in a magical silence.

After that, Christmas approached with incredible speed, or so it seemed to Harry, whose days were a whirlwind of magic, study and secret activities in the Room of Requirement.

Ron and Hermione decided to spend the holidays with their families, as did almost everyone else in the castle. And so Harry and Daphne prepared for a quiet feast for two. Not that they minded.