Hey everyone! I hope we all enjoyed Halloween. I went as Luther and my girl went as Alice, though she doesn't have a familiar dress like Luther does.

This update deviates the norm a bit cause I usually try to keep it to Harry's first person perspective, but I really wanted to write Daphne and Hermione's date, and so I did.

This chap is mostly explanation and set-up, but there will definitely be action coming as soon as next update.

It's 12.5K for those that like to know. Thank you for reading and please enjoy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 7/18/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.

Enjoy!

Those Who Avenge Together

For their 'date,' Hermione and Daphne decided on tea and crumpets at Madam Puddifoots. It didn't make sense to actually have a dinner date since they would only find themselves in the Great Hall eating dinner with the others in a few hours. They were quiet on the way there, partly because attempting to become more than associates was an awkward idea to get used to. They were both very aware a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin hanging out in public without Ares around to stifle any house rivalries was a difficult concept to wrap their considerable minds around. It also didn't help that every few minutes, anyone who paid attention to rumors and gossip pointed and gawked at Daphne Greengrass, the Ice Queen, and the top student in Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, who was primarily recognized for holding the title while being Muggle-born.

It certainly wasn't the first time the two had spent time together. During their weeks of training in the month of October, both girls spent a great deal of time alone, meeting in secluded areas to avoid being seen together. Though they had a few meaningful conversations, the majority of the sessions were simply about learning Occlumancy, and as such, didn't require much personal exchange.

So while both girls were silent on their trek to the tea shop, they were comfortably so. They both ignored the occasional catcalls and had an especially close encounter with Isobel MacDougal, Qarinah Bagnold, Nimue Desford. The bullying trinity were on an intercept course with Hermione. Daphne shifted her head slightly, enough to peer at Hermione through the corner of her eye to gauge what Hermione's reaction would be. As a Slytherin, words could be just as devastating as the wand, but Ravenclaws generally cared little for conflict, normally categorizing it as a waste of time. Daphne had even seen a few speed through the bullying process and take their abuse offhandedly, simply to put it out of their minds and return to studying.

Without Ares or Draco around, which were Hermione's only saving grace, Daphne was more curious about how the top student of their year would respond to her abusers, more than the calculated gratitude Ares may feel for her if she stepped in to help Hermione, thereby boosting her appeal to the Green Reaper—her favorite of his nicknames. It made the most sense to take advantage of every available opportunity, especially with the most direct of her two adversaries currently spending time with Ares. While Tracey assured her Draco would stay in the way, something about Fleur made her feel like his intervention wouldn't matter. Fleur was so direct, Daphne was nearly a hundred percent certain the half-veela would not mind displaying affection publicly... without shame. The croissant queen was a true challenger.

Still, with no discernible reason why, Hermione was probably the closest to capturing Ares' heart out of the three. Like many other Ravenclaws, the bushy-haired girl was always weak to confrontation, and with Daphne's network, not impossible to guess she was being abused on top of being bullied. Daphne recognized the pain-filled shame on her face, spotting her exiting the Hogwarts Express at the end of their third year. It was unmistakable to an observant and knowing mind like Daphne's. The smartest witch in their class had come a long way since then. In a large way due to Ares' constant presence in her life, which would either cripple the bushy-haired girl further or empower her to meet conflict head-on.

Not unsurprisingly, Hermione slouched, near to cowering, as she looked around for help. As a general guide, Daphne tended to believe those who lacked the drive to take matters into their own hands would spend a large part of their life looking for a savior; often forgetting their sense of personal responsibility. Daphne readied her wand at her back, expecting to be collateral damage in whatever these girls had in mind, all the while reaffirming her belief to always be self-sufficient. She could love or rely on others, but she wouldn't ever allow herself to be so dependent on someone to the point it would override her strength needed to survive through life. She would choose to be alone if need be and take in a lover every so often, like Madam Zabini.

Hermione suddenly straightened, walking confidently ahead as Hammond rushed the three girls in a panic and started shoving them, none too gently, away from Hermione and Daphne's path without once looking at Hermione. It was an odd thing to see, and Daphne noted the small smile gracing Hermione's face. The rest of the trip up High Street to the tea shop had Daphne pondering what Ares did to force such a change on Hammond, all for Hermione. It led to uncomfortable feelings of rejection and inadequacy for herself; two emotions of vulnerability Daphne would never allow to be observed on her face.

Though the tacky, frilly, bow-covered shop was a first visit for Hermione, it was as cramped as Daphne remembered from her visits. Hogwarts couples primarily populated the shop, and giving young-in-love couples too much privacy was a risk the establishment was not willing to take, so tables were fairly close together, though Daphne and Hermione didn't qualify. Taking note of anyone she recognized to add to her mental databank, Daphne naturally preferred privacy, so rather than take the open table in the center of the room, they waited for a dirty table by the wall to be cleaned before the two girls took the farther off seats.

Silence stretched, and the pressure to filled it with conversation doubled. Finally, Daphne took a page out of Tracey's doctorate in How to Provoke, and asked, "So, what's going on with you and Krum?"

Taken aback, Hermione blinked as she sat up a little straighter. Internally, Daphne smiled as her sharp gaze analyzed and inferred exasperation from the bushy-haired girl. Hermione asked, "Really? No preamble or lead-in?"

"Would you prefer I open with the weather?" Daphne dully asked, her eyes glued on Hermione's micro reactions.

"I can feel your eyes rubbing against my brain," Hermione told her. "You don't have to analyze, you know. This is supposed to be fun."

"No, this is you proving a point-"

"That we can be rivals and friends," Hermione interjected.

Hotly, Daphne returned, "And it only cost me..."

Daphne could've been learning more with Ares and keeping Fleur's advancements at bay if Hermione hadn't had to prove a point. But like in chess, Daphne played the board as well as any player, and had enough presence of mind to ignore her irritation for the possibility of steering away one of her competition.

"You realize it's pretty amazing that an international quidditch superstar seems taken with you," Daphne remarked. "You can tell he's interested, right?"

Growing suspicious Hermione waited a beat before asking, "Do you want to know as my friend or is this an angle?"

"I'm Slytherin," Daphne answered, filing her long blonde hair behind her ear with a manicured finger, acknowledging her rival with honesty by sidestepping what she wouldn't bother denying.

"Well, I'm not," Hermione returned with conviction. "Nor does it matter, if you think about it. You only need to look to our mutual friend to know why. Like him, I'd love to talk to you about things as long as it's with a friend."

"Friend..." Daphne repeated. "You know, I do think there's a possibility we can be friends—far, far into the future, I should think, when we're both bored and about to die." At Hermione's playfully unamused face, Daphne added, "Can't you see what we are now is so much more interesting?"

"And that is?"

"Nonconforming honesty," Daphne answered. "Being friends imposes too many rules. I have to be there for you every time you need it, regardless if I want or can. We have to be understanding of one another regardless of how stupid the other is obviously being. We have to compromise even if I want something more than you do, all to preserve the 'friendship.' No thank you."

The waitress set their teas down and after a smile of thank you, Hermione continued, "And Slytherins don't have to deal with that because no one is really friends in the truest sense of the word? Is what you're saying? It's like rather than friends, you're associates with aligning interests."

"Can't deny it's honest," Daphne remarked. "And there's nothing wrong with competing for what you want, especially against someone you're on good terms with. It means you're worthy, valuable, unique; you have a special place in my competitive heart, Granger. But if we were friends who both coveted the same thing, or the same boy—" Daphne paused so they understood she meant a specific boy. "Than lies, betrayal, resentment, bitterness are sure to follow, and that is so uninteresting."

"Wouldn't that happen even more if you weren't friends? Ah! Never mind. If we're honest in the beginning, then it's not a surprise later, is it?" Hermione questioned, and Daphne nodded. "You think at some point, the person claiming to be your friend will choose themselves over you, and so you don't even bother to begin with."

"It's only a natural part of human nature," Daphne claimed. "If people want to be ignorant of the truth to then only be surprised when the friendship sours, that's fine. I'm not the type to dictate how others choose to live their lives, however, don't expect me to follow the same rules simply because I don't object to their idiocy."

"Well, then it's a good thing we're here," Hermione stated cheerfully. At Daphne's bemused look, Hermione elaborated. "I don't accept that premise—not to say that it doesn't have merit—and I don't believe it applies as often as you think it does. I don't think real friends can truly get in each other's way. Ares is Slytherin and I know- we both know, he's selfless when it comes to helping his friends. Just look at what he did for Dobby."

"You're really hung up on that," a vexed Daphne mentioned, having heard Hermione bring that up a few times already.

"It's just so amazing that he's even considerate of house elves—a race of magical creatures most wizards general ignore!" Hermione promotes happily. "He defies social stigma simply to do the right thing. It's just amazing!" she gushes.

"And that's supposed to prove how wrong I have it?" Daphne challenged with a knowing smirk, eager for the fun of an argument. "Have you prepared a list highlighting how I ought to idealize my pragmatic thoughts and action despite how unforgiving the world actually is?"

Hearing the jest behind her love of cataloging tasks, Hermione huffed in protest before irritably mentioning, "While I'm certain I don't have to explain the benefits of making lists, such as how it promotes order, manages tasks by priority, organizes time, allows you to feel productive and helps relieve stress, a list won't be necessary this time."

"Oh no?" Daphne asked, humored by Hermione's uniqueness. "Why's that?"

"Well, if I did have a list, there'd only be one thing on it," Hermione asserted with a knowing grin. Daphne tilted her head in her curiosity, waiting no more than second before the Ravenclaw answered, "Be Daphne's friend."

Though deflated, Daphne was willing to show how baffling this conversation was to her. "There's absolutely no reason to be friends," she said. "We actually have more reasons to not be friends than to the contrary."

"I still want to," Hermione returned with confidence that actually annoyed Daphne.

"Why?"

"I'll admit it started with Ares," she answered. "He trusts you, and I trust him. That opened me up to the idea that I can trust you as well. Being friends is the logical next step."

"There's nothing logical about that, and he doesn't trust me, at least not completely," Daphne corrected. "Actually he doesn't trust anyone, except Draco, which is always a blow whenever I think about it. I'd even go so far as to argue, to some extent, he's not supposed to. With all he knows and his station in life, it's an unrealistic expectation to have, especially considering his trauma."

"He trusts you enough, which is more than enough for me," Hermione answered. "Also, I do actually enjoy spending time with you. You can be challenging of course, but even then, it's not out of malice and I've always enjoyed rhetoric. I think in time, our communication and trust will only grow, so why not a little efficiency with what is a high probability?"

"A high probability..."

"Don't you like Ares?" Hermione bluntly asked. Daphne didn't answer and so continued, "I've already said I'm not leaving, regardless of what may come. Before Ares, there would be all sorts of reasons not to be friends with you, or any Slytherin. Now, I can't think of a single reason why not."

For a long time, Daphne was silent, her countenance betraying none of her fluffy thoughts. Daphne was about to take a biscuit when she noticed a beetle on one. Grateful for the distraction, Daphne raised her hand. When the attending asked what she could assist them with, Daphne showed her the beetle. "Oh I do, apologize about that. I'll make sure to remove that from your receipt. I'll be back with another plate."

It wasn't until she returned with another plate of biscuits that Daphne conceded, "In the event you do become Minister of Magic, it would only make sense that, as an Unspeakable, we would have a workable relationship-"

"Do you mean friendship?" Hermione cut in with a small smirk.

With squinted, humored eyes, Daphne clarified, "positive work-" when Hermione interrupted again.

"How about favorably close?" Hermione suggested.

Daphne huffed, head turned but amused as she said, "You're just so weird."

"You're a good person, Daphne," Hermione declared after a sip of her tea. "It's not my fault I can see that."

Daphne didn't like hearing Hermione speak so boldly about such a piercing opinion of her. It forced Daphne to ponder how she might inevitably disappoint the Ravenclaw one day in the future, and she didn't like it. Clearing her head of unnecessary thoughts, Daphne returned to the first topic. "So, you and Krum."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Hermione groaned, to Daphne's satisfaction. "Fine, what would you like to know?"

"He seems quite taken with you," Daphne began. "How'd you manage that?"

"I didn't manage anything," Hermione replied. "He'd come to the library often, which I only noticed because of all the noisy fans that would follow him. Can you imagine? Noise... in the library? Madam Pince was livid, and not having any of it. One day he asked me a question and I helped him. That is quite literally all of my involvement."

"Hmm, it's certainly strange," Daphne remarked. "He likely has a type for the quiet ones. You certainly contrast his usual rabid base of fan-girls; maybe he likes you because you're not them—a rabid fan-girl. Are you going to give him a shot? He seems to genuinely care."

"...Can I be honest with you? And this is like a step through the threshold of my trust." Hermione responded, and Daphne could easily note her tone was serious, near desperate. The Slytherin simply nodded, pushing away her fears of being intimately trusting. "There are only two boys I wholeheartedly trust, and one of them is largely because the other boy trusts him." It wasn't difficult for Daphne to imagine why Hermione might be hesitant toward male company other than Ares and Draco. "I sometimes get nervous, even though I know it's completely silly since I don't actually believe Viktor would do anything to me, but... it's, I don't know... an insistent unease."

"It's the pains of healing," Daphne quickly and confidently told her. It wasn't the first time she's heard this type of account, mostly from unlucky Slytherin girls. The worst of the Slytherin boys were, for the most part, only in the initial stages of becoming rapists, content to simply force a girl to pleasure them with their hands or mouths. In the time it took for the boy to become comfortable with taking everything else, a snake learned to protect herself, or die in a worse way than death.

Guarding her mind and emotions against her own horrors, Daphne continued, "That anxiety is no different from an over-sensitivity to a very real possibility, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It's a form of clarity that's certainly hard to handle, but it's not wrong."

Hermione quietly asked, "...How much do you know?"

Taking a moment to bring her teacup to her lips, Daphne eventually answered, "Enough to feel sorry." Hermione nodded her head, taking a long solitary time to recall and reabsorb her shame in the wake of learning another person was aware of her past abuse. "Actually," Daphne began, drawing Hermione's attention. "There is something we do need to talk about." The Ravenclaw asked with her eyes what that might be and Daphne responded, "We need to take control of Hogwarts."

Forcing away her disgrace with her occlumancy, Hermione's eyes bugged, surprised, and she responded, "Okay, I don't follow."

Daphne casted Muffliato—exactly how Ares taught her—but even still, she leaned forward. Hermione mirrored Daphne to listen as the beautiful Slytherin revealed her inner thoughts. "We both know Ares is exceptional, but we're not slackers either." At Hermione's nod, she continued, "As of right now, there's not a lot we can actually help him with; the goblins, the ministry, the unknown danger targeting the Flamels, Dumbledore's fetter on Nova."

"It's frustrating isn't it?" Hermione asked, clearly frustrated. "I want to help him as much as he's helped me—continues to help me—only to realize I'm not smart enough or strong enough to do anything for him. It's aggravating how powerless I am to help my friend."

"What if there was something we can help him with?" Daphne suggested.

"...Such as Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, though mostly to herself.

"Hogwarts," Daphne repeated. "We can make Hogwarts a better place for him to stay. Think about it, his education up to this point has been mostly home-schooling, and clearly, dangerous real-world experiences. Coming here should be better, and yet, he's dealing with one thing after another; inadequate education, bullying gangs, the basilisk that nearly killed you two years ago, Death Eaters posing as professors, the acromantulas nest that is—for some odd reason—located an arm's length away from the school. It's a lot, isn't it? I'll admit we can't do much about the acromantulas, basilisk, or Death Eater, but the education and the bullies, we can affect those."

Hermione's brows furrowed in deep concentration. Daphne could tell the girl was eagerly mulling over the probabilities of tackling this particular problem when the bushy-haired girl bemoaned, "I feel like such an idiot for not thinking of this myself. I think we need to do this. I want him to be happy here. He deserves it."

"He does," Daphne agreed, withholding her internal desire that his happiness should be with her, and the rest of their time was spent brainstorming how to align Hogwarts to a home Ares couldn be comfortable, if not happy to be in.

The two fourth years were walking back to the carriages after leaving the tea shop when out of a passed alleyway, Isobel, Qarinah and Nimue quickly ambushed them with wands drawn. A stinger hex each from Isobel and Qarinah kept a stunned Hermione and Daphne from bringing out their own wands as Isobel commanded, "In the alley!" Outnumbered and without means of defense, the pair had little choice but to do as they were told. Isobel seemed extremely agitated as she yelled with a hushed tone, "Now!"

Isobel led them in as Nimue and Qarinah brought up the rear, stopping at the halfway point of the alley. "Imagine running into my favorite mudblood and the ice bitch of Slytherin," Nimue proclaimed to all.

"If we don't make it back to the carriages, they'll leave without us," Daphne pointed out.

"Shut up!" an irritated Isobel called. "We know Flamel and this cunt had something to do with Hammond," she aggressively continuesd. "We can't get to him, but you two? You'll have to take his punishment in his stead."

"And how do you expect that'll turn out for you?" Daphne calmly asked, not at all acting like someone at wand point. "You really think Ares'll just let that go? Do you think he'll ignore what you've already done? I suggest you put down your wands and let us leave in peace while you still can."

"You're not going to say shit," Qarinah claimed from behind them. "Or we'll make your life hell."

"How original," Daphne commented. "Slytherins hear far worse than that from their parents."

"I'm no idiot. I don't care what you think Ares can do," Isobel growled, only just keeping her anger in check. "He can't be everywhere at once. I'll catch you and I'll make sure some lucky boys get to bruise you from the inside. I even have a camera," Isobel touted, grinning manically. "Since I have you now, how about we start by taking a picture?"

"What kind of picture?" Daphne heard Nimue happily ask.

"Good question," Isobel remarked, moving closer to the two. "How about we take a picture that shows what hungry little dyke sluts they are?"

Qarinah hopped on the communal thought, adding, "Then everyone'll believe us when we tell them how you both just love eating each other out-"

"But," Nimue interjected. "Not as much as they like getting fucked by several dirty cocks."

"At the same time, of course," Isobel added, somewhat calmly, as if the idea of abusing others was therapeutic to her. "But before I take the picture, we should see what we're working with. Come now girls, practice makes perfect," she demanded, looking at Hermione, who had done so at their behest before.

Isobel nodded in Daphne's direction, expecting the smartest Ravenclaw to fall in line with her abuser's demands. When Hermione didn't move, Isobel stepped overbearingly close, jamming the end of her wand hard against Hermione's chest, glaring at the girl. Though willing to be defiant to her past abusers, Nimue and Qarinah each struck Daphne with a stinging hex, eliciting a sharp yelp from the beautiful blonde, pushing her a step closer to Hermione. It was more than likely these bullies could cast worse spells well before Hermione or Daphne could reach their wands, and so, with obvious reluctance, Hermione turned to a wincing Daphne, much to the laughing amusement of their abusers.

Despite the pain of the hex, Daphne was stoic and clearly unwilling to give these girls the satisfaction of feeling scared or vulnerable. It actually gave Hermione strength. From the beginning of her abuse at the hands of Isobel and her goons, Hermione never showed the grit, spirit, or fortitude like the blonde standing before her was displaying. In the not too distant past—mere months ago—Hermione would've fought meekly, cried, and pleaded for them to stop. But even under the control of others, Daphne was nothing like that, which made her heart swell pridefully for having such a friend. Luna was a great friend in her own way, but Daphne was intricately more motivating. Simply by the way the beautiful blonde stood her ground against three wands eager to deal damage at point-blank range. It cleared Hermione's ruffled mind.

Daphne fully expected Hermione to do what they said. These girls were more than a physical threat; they were a cerebral one, and Hermione had suffered their mental abuse far more than their physical one. But Daphne knew she had ruthless pride within herself, enough so that when Hermione took a step forward, Daphne instinctively took a step back, absolutely hating the idea of surrendering like this. The defiance was not without its consequence that she easily felt via the two stinging hexes striking the center of her back and worse, the base of her neck, causing Daphne to cry out from the pain.

"Bitch, we can do a lot worse," Nimue yelled, as Qarinah added, "I told you this ice cunt is too stuck up. We should just stuff her with her own wand and take the pictures like I said."

Daphne's anger easily heightened, quelling the weakening sting of pain, as she turned a growling face behind her. Before Daphne could lose more control over herself, Hermione took hold of Daphne's face and forced the girl's storming, ice cold eyes to look into her stern chocolate irises. "Hey, it's not okay, but look at me," Hermione pleaded with her. "Just look at me."

"Should we just do Rinah's suggestion, I wonder?" Isobel playfully wondered aloud for Hermione's benefit. "It's devious even for me..."

Hermione swallowed, understanding Qarinah's cruelty as something far viler than even Isobel tended to suggest. Focusing on an irate, and defensive Daphne, Hermione calmly conveyed, "Forget about them. Close your eyes. Daphne, close your eyes. Take a deep breath, and please, and trust in me."

Daphne had fire in raging her belly, but she also had intelligence in abundance. With great effort, she limited her natural instinct to fight, breathing a few deep breaths before closing her eyes enough to darken and blur Hermione's near face. It wasn't surprising when Hermione tilted her head—her lips—up, enough to level her own, and placed a rather chaste kiss on hers.

Daphne barely even registered their warmth surrounded by the cold of the alley before Hermione pulled away, causing Isobel to sting Hermione with another hex. The yelp from her opened Daphne's eyes to see Isobel angrily grab Hermione by her bushy hair and roughly yank back to then place the tip of her wand against Hermione's neck.

Hermione's muffled yelp was ignored as Isobel practically yelled, "You know damn well how I like my fucking dyke shows, you filthy mudblood cunt! If you don't eat that ice cunt's face exactly how I like it, we'll definitely do Rinah's idea." Isobel shoved Hermione forward into Daphne who caught her, before adding, "Now get to it you cunts. We don't have all bloody night!"

"If Flamel is any sort of friend, well, with the photos we take, he'll pay one way or another," Nimue mockingly added.

Placing her right hand on Daphne's perfectly aristocratic jawline, Hermione leaned in without hesitation, lips up and full, pressing them, gently at first, against Daphne's slightly parted, unexpected lips. Soft, was Hermione's first thought of them, while Daphne couldn't help but note how warm her brown-eyed friend's full lips were; in fact, her entire presence was easily warming in the cold November air. Hermione's button nose was the only cold part to the touch, but before Daphne could get used to the idea that she was not only kissing another girl but a girl within her social circle, Hermione tilted her head to the side, arching in for a deeper connection, a press-in that surprised Daphne a moment before closing her eyes and attempting in vain to settle her rising heart rate.

Daphne allowed Hermione to claim her, to take the lead despite how docile it made her feel; an easy decision for Daphne as it seemed Hermione was more experienced. Daphne oddly noted the smacking, suction noises their kiss announced to their audience as they both grew more comfortable in the intimate act. The Slytherin beauty was surprised once more when Hermione rested a firm hand on her waist and pulled the Ice Queen in, pressing Hermione's soft breast against her own, heating her cleavage, neck, and cheeks in the process. After long heart-pounding seconds, Daphne barely heard Nimue, or possibly Qarinah, gloat, "Looks like they like it."

Daphne vaguely wondered if this made her submissive and weak to their attackers. In a word, her strict mind answered, yes. Her father would never be in this position, neither would Ares. But when her mind pondered the actual act itself, she knew she didn't dislike it. It was simply easier for Daphne to ignore the three older Ravenclaws in favor of Hermione's impressive pleasantness.

"Grab that sexy little ass!" Isobel yelled, and immediately, Hermione lowered the hand on Daphne's waist to grip a handful of soft yet firm posterior. Daphne's eyes snapped open in shock as did her mouth, to which Hermione dived inside and slipped her tongue in. Daphne's heart rate accelerated even faster than their morning runs as Hermione played with her tongue while simultaneously massaging her round bottom. Both girls were pressed close enough to swell the satin dough of their cleavage and feel the others hardening nipples.

Daphne could barely think over the sounds of their moist kissing anymore—how they got there, why she was kissing another girl, should it feel pleasant, if not nice—when Hermione removed the hand palming Daphne's face, took hold of Daphne's hand, and forced it to wrap around Hermione's waist. It was the most surprising move yet, and not because it pressed them further into each other, but because it sobered Daphne of the building haze considerably.

Hermione patted Daphne's hand twice because Hermione had placed it over her wand under her clothes. Hermione herself then wrapped her hand around Daphne's waist, and Daphne could tell the academically brilliant girl found where Daphne kept her wand. Though clearer of mind, when Hermione broke contact with her moist, vibrating lips for her neck instead, Daphne wondered why the bushy-haired girl was so experienced and pleaded the opportunity they were waiting for presented itself soon.

Hermione was sucking on the sensitive, long muscle just underneath her jaw, eliciting a quick exhale carrying the slightest of moans from Daphne's parted lips when Isobel chanted, "That's it slut, get at her. Nim, the camera."

The moment Nimue moved to take the camera out of her bag and place it in Isobel's extended hand was the best opportunity both Hermione and Daphne knew they were ever going to get. With deft hands, Hermione and Daphne reached and whipped out each other's wand handle. Though the wands were an odd magical fit for the girls, like wearing the right glove on the left hand, they had enough anger to make do. Hermione and Daphne both called, "Depulso!" as they so often practiced, to great effect, banishing Qarinah and Isobel several yards before they could react. Nimue dropped the camera to bring her wand back to proper attention, but before she could cast a curse, Hermione—also within point-blank range—charged, seizing the bully's wand hand, and shoved the girl hard, calling for, "Daphne!"

Angry enough to turn a tree to ash, Daphne casted a strong, "Depulso!" hitting Nimue square in the chest. The bully was knocked back several yards.

With all three girls down and groaning in pain, Hermione collected their wands with Accio as Daphne eventually cooled down enough to quietly growl, "Hermione, if you're not thinking about revenge, then you and I can most certainly never be friends."

Breathing heavily from the excitement, Hermione simply responded without thought, "Acquaintances who revenge together, stay together," causing an unladylike snort from Daphne.

They turned to each other in a surprisingly decent mood despite being stung and held at wand point. When Daphne's arctic blue eyes fell on the red of Hermione's juicy pink lips, she cleared her throat and looked away, stating, "We, uh, should, um, break their wands. It won't be enough to satisfy my retribution, but it's a good place to start."

"Isn't that..." Hermione started to ask an ice cold Daphne, but reconsidered. "I mean, they've never broken my wand," was all Hermione felt like objecting.

Nodding, Daphne coldly responded, "I've witnessed Ares defeat Fleur, Krum, Draco, Khan, Boyle, Yaroslav, and a host of Slytherin upper years and the only wands he ever destroyed were the ones that were used with extreme prejudice to bully and intimidate him or others. That's not what wands are for, and they shouldn't have one if they can't even understand that. If you don't want to-"

"No, no, I'm fine. You had me at Ares," Hermione quickly stated, giving Daphne Nimue's wand and keeping the other two for herself. At Daphne's curious eye, Hermione explained, "I feel I've earned the right to break Isobel's wand, and Qarinah was the most horrid of her underlings."

"They can't take a hit can they," Daphne noted, walking over to Nimue who, like the other two, was clutching her chest and coughing as she breathed haggardly.

"Well, we are pushing the level eight dummy now, and these girls weigh nothing compared to that," Hermione responded as she used her foot to push on Qarinah's shoulder, rolling the girl on her back so she could see Hermione.

Using more force than she thought it would take, Daphne snapped Nimue's wand—the first wand she had ever snapped, she thought—in front of her without hesitation. Nimue cried out profanities for seconds before the pain at her chest shut her tirade down. "Don't even think-" was all Qarinah managed before Hermione—with a gleeful smile she couldn't keep down—broke her abuser's wand with a loud, satisfying SNAP. Her chocolate eyes dilated as she relished the wave of euphoria that cascaded from the tip of Hermione's head down to her very toes. After her moment of tranquility, Hermione's eyes focused, and her chocolate irises located Isobel several yards away behind them, attempting to get to her feet. Hermione and Daphne walked toward the girl, content to wait with perpetual satisfaction as the ringleader of the girl gang finally stood on unsteady feet.

"Don't... you dare... you filthy-" Hermione presented Isobel's wand before the heaving girl, gripping each end, and bent it slowly, adding more and more strength to the arching wood that was not meant to arch. At the sound of microscopic fractures, Isobel painfully yelled, "I'm going... to kill you... somehow, someday, if you-"

SNAP! The satisfaction rushing through Hermione's pleasure center was better than snapping Qarinah's wand. Hermione actually closed her eyes at the pleasurable experience, drawing a curious, though accepting look from Daphne.

Before Isobel could yell more than, "...YOU STUPI-" Hermione slapped her hard across the cheek, stunning the Ravenclaw into big-eyed silence. "I'm certain trying to kill me will not end well for you, Isobel. Considering all that we've been through these past few months, you no longer mean anything to me—you're insignificant—which I'm certain is your greatest fear. Let me tell you something you ought to keep in mind. I'm the smartest witch in our class, and I will continue to be so, because I have more drive than you, I have more motivation than you, and I'm never scared to learn more-"

"You're just a filthy-" Isobel couldn't help but yell before Hermione slapped her again, harder than before.

Continuing as if never interrupted, Hermione told the bruised-cheeked bully, "But what you don't yet realize is that you've already lost; today, for certain, but tomorrow as well, and the day after that, and so on. Because you don't scare me anymore Isobel. Quite the opposite, in fact… I pity you. And for as long as you continue to be like this, you will always be beneath me."

Tossing the remnants of Isobel's wand on the floor, Hermione left without so much as a second glance toward her abuser. Daphne took a step forward, and with an ice cold smile, whispered, "She's far too kind. Rest assured, if you do kill her, I will salt the earth with the retched ashes of your entire family. I'll kill you and anything you hold dear, down to your fucking house plant. Go ahead and test me, bitch." Daphne straightened her posture, cold smile ever present, intent on following Hermione. Pausing midway, she stopped to pick up the camera and left the three girls with a final warning. "In the years to come, I have no doubt you'll remember this day as the biggest mistake of your lives for making an enemy of me."

Daphne played an innocent countenance as she met a suspicious Hermione on the street. Hermione asked, "What did you say to her? I hope you didn't sink to her level."

"I could never sink to her level," Daphne claimd. "I play on far more dangerous terrain, to begin with," she added with a clear smirk.

Hermione simply huffed some of her bangs of curly hair away, easily dropping the matter, and instead stated, "We'll have to wait for the next round of carriages. Isobel and her lot'll probably be there by then."

Daphne's smirk widened to a delicate cheek pushing smile as she enlarged her Nimbus, much to Hermione's great dismay. Still, Hermione reluctantly enlarged hers as Daphne stated an errant thought, "You know, as far as first dates go, I think that was the one of the best I've been on."

Immediately, Hermione's mind jumped to the kiss they shared—the rather heated kiss—and her fluffy brunette hair whipped around as surprised eyes landed on Daphne. That reaction enacted in Daphne the same memory and she couldn't help the blush as she stumbled saying, "No-no, not... that's not what I meant! I just mean what we did- t-to them! I mean, what we did to them, and- and that's all!"

Blushing herself, Hermione simply hopped on her broom and followed behind a flying Daphne, forgetting, for the most part, her aversion to flying.

—

"I truly do appreciate this Severus," Remus stated with awkward appreciation. In the potions room of Hogwarts, the haggard man accepted the Wolfsbane potion in anticipation of the full moon not long away. "I didn't want to be a bother."

"It didn't stop you from bothering though, did it?" Snape coldly returned. "In truth, I have a request of my own."

"Oh, and that is?" Remus asked, placing the potion in his robes.

"Lily wouldn't go into detail, but I know you were in service to her house," Snape started, linking his hands in front of him. "She mentioned your travels through many different countries. I was curious to know more about the nature behind these travels."

"If she didn't feel comfortable telling you-" Remus began to explain when Snape interrupted to be more specific.

"I can assure you I am not asking to circumvent Lily's wishes in any way," Snape reassured him. "This curiosity is in no way about her or what she's asked of you."

"If that's the case then how can I help?" Remus asked.

"In your travels, have you come across any information, no matter how insignificant, regarding the Flamels, their son, Ares, any magical adoptions, accounts of orphaned wizard abductions, private tutors possibly boasting about teaching a prodigy, even if the tutor never named whom he taught?"

Remus raised surprised brows for the half a second until he realized everyone was trying to learn more about the origins of one of the greatest wizards Hogwarts has seen since Albus Dumbledore. "Off the top of my head, I don't recall any mention on the Flamels until they became a reoccurring staple of the Prophet's diet. It's possible I've come across a few reports regarding missing or taken children, however, the grand majority of those were related to muggle kidnapping. If you'll allow me a spot of time, I may have more for you. Sadly, for now, all I can say is I'll have to get back to you."

"...Muggle kidnappings, you say," Snape repeated, leaning a pondering tone on the avenue of exploration.

"Why are you interested in the Flamels, or is it Ares in particular?"

"Due diligence, Remus, due diligence," Snape simply put, wondering how fast Lily would learn of this conversation. It was a risk asking Remus, one with a slim chance of paying off. However, all other sources of inquiries had reached an impasse, and there were little options left to himself or Dumbledore. Setting his mind to patience, Snape asked Remus, "Please contact me if you discover anything," before showing the former professor out of his classroom.

—

They were walking back from another fruitless night in the forbidden forest. Since Nova couldn't flame, Harry had decided Draco should hover near enough. So if anything should happen, he wouldn't be too far. It made progress slow to a crawl from what it once was, since now, they covered half the grounds they had. They also couldn't flame away from the multitude of dangers in the forest. Where before they would flame back into their dorms, Harry and Draco now had to walk back, with Harry relaying his near catastrophic meet with Dumbledore. Chief among Draco's many peeved concerns is blared in surprise... "He wants you to be friends with your brother?"

Harry quickly erected his privacy charms as he chastised Draco, "Say it a little louder, Malfoy! I don't think they heard you in the other timeline."

"So you're really going to do what that manipulative tosser wants?! After everything he's done? Are you really ready to jump on command like a good little house elf? 'As my master commands,'" Draco mockingly finished his heated tirade.

"First, it's late and I'm tired, so I'm going to need you to be a lot less of the prat you excel at," Harry groaned, mildly curious by the stale feeling weighing him down. "Second, I'm not doing what he says. I'm doing exactly what I've been doing since I got here; whatever's needed, which means I don't always get my way. Yeah, I absolutely hate what he's done to Nova, and I'd be more than happy to smash his face in for all the bullshite I had to go through because of him, but that momentary satisfaction isn't worth ruining my plans to kill Voldemort. Nothing is. Not even Nova's very temporary shackle."

"That's harsh," Draco huffed in disbelief. Though a Slytherin, even he understood there were just some magical creatures of divinity you didn't provoke. "Well then, where's the line?" Draco genuinely asked. Harry looked at him expectantly, so Draco elaborated, "There's got to be a line, right? One that says enough is enough. He's already sidelined your phoenix—a freaking phoenix! Merlin, you know what balls you have to have to do that?"

"Balls or conviction," Harry clarified to Draco, aware of just how far Dumbledore was willing to sacrifice. "He believes in what he believes to the point he'd risk jinxing his own life. That's not a person who'll roll over easily, no matter how much I yell or how bright green my eyes get."

"All the more reason not to trust him, much less do what he says," Draco chimed. "I mean what do we really need him for? He's just getting in the way, making shit harder for us. It was a lot easier getting around professors and centaurs when we can just flame away."

"You need to start looking past the obvious," Harry tossed back. "This isn't about trusting him, it's about using someone you don't trust. Slim chance though it may be, there may come a time I need some form of access that he can help with. More importantly, everyone—as a rule, it seems—just listens to everything he says. I know I did. He plays that grandfather role to perfection because he IS good, and he IS great, and he protects adults and children alike from big bad evil most are too weak to do anything about. Why wouldn't the Potters listen to a great wizard that keeps them safe; or the Blacks, the Weasleys, or the Aurors for making their jobs easier, the Wizengamot, the professors; damn near anyone who can read would jump if he tells them to. If he was one person in the way of my plans, fine, we could go without, but he's got followers—plenty of them with influence—not unlike Voldemort, and we have to deal with Dumbledore's followers just like we have to deal Voldemort's."

"I seem to recall you kill or dismember Voldemort's followers, Mr. Green Reaper," Draco accused with obvious criticism.

"I didn't mean 'deal with' in the exact same way, Mr. Obedient Ferret," Harry aggravatingly returned. "I want Dumbledore's people to cooperate with me if I ever need them, or at least, not hinder my progress if Dumbledore manipulates them to do so; the Blacks and Potters specifically. And crazy as this might seem, the old bugger's not all evil; just a self-righteous idiot in power. I'd rather make him see how idiotic he's being than forcibly take that power away, because of the two options, the first one's easier."

"I don't think there's a wedge strong enough to get a head that big out a wrinkled old arse that small," Draco commented. "And you didn't answer my question. Where's the line? There has to be a point where enough is enough. If not shackling your Phoenix, if not nearly letting me, Trace, Granger, Daphne, Perenelle, die horribly to acromantula, or hiring a Death Eater in disguise he couldn't suss out... what's he got to do before you realize that old dog is beyond learning new tricks? I mean, what legitimate reason does that powerful asshole have to change? There isn't one, is the correct answer. For fuck's sake, Severus is my Godfather and I don't even trust him because of Dumbledore. The man's a cancer, and I'm telling you, you need to cut him out."

Harry couldn't help a snort-followed-chuckle. At Draco's curious look, Harry conveyed, "You know how utterly ridiculous that sounds coming from you?" Draco rolled his eyes as Harry continued to ask, "Did you ever, in a million fucking years, think you and I would be working together? How the fuck can you and I have less issues than me and Dumbledore?"

"Simple, he thinks his way is the only way," Draco commented, drawing from his own past. With sarcasm laced tongue, Draco asked, "But what does he know, right? He's only about a million years old, revered, and powerful; never has to wipe wrinkled arse cuz they lick it clean for 'im. You think someone like that is going to just up and admit he's had it wrong this entire time because you told him? You have a better chance of playing exploding snap with Voldemort."

"Consider the other options," Harry prompted. "He's not weak enough to be sidelined unnoticed, quickly or quietly. I could kill Voldemort faster than it would take to outmaneuver Dumbledore. I don't know enough about the political landscape to navigate that tour with any real success. Just like Voldemort, Dumbledore has his spies; it can be a teller, a doorman, a newspaper attendant, anyone. Trying without all the necessary background is a battle lost before it even starts, and taking the time to know all the key figures, along with everyone or thing around them, is more time than I'm willing to dedicate to something that could be moot after I kill Voldemort. All of that only makes putting up with him that much more suitable."

Harry allowed a moment to beat and Draco took that time to consider his words before continuing. "Maybe you want me to kill him instead, because why not? I mean we only have a difference of opinion," he sarcastically said. "You realize he doesn't know what we know, right? I do actually need things from him he won't willingly part with, and wanting him to act a certain way without giving him the reason needed, is unreasonable; and you know I'll never reveal how we got here. I agree the figurehead of all that is good and just in magical society probably won't really to listen to me. Hell, I'm a murderer, a Slytherin, basically a prince of dark magic. Why would he, or they, allow me free reign to do something I can't really tell them about? But that's the mission, Malfoy; destroy Voldemort before he has a chance to destroy lives, and involve as little people as possible. If you thought it was going to be easy, realign your expectations."

"That doesn't mean we need to accept hardships where we don't have to," Draco returned. "Dumbledore is in the way, and you know it. Maybe not completely but he's getting closer to that point. Sooner or later he's going to trip us up when we can't afford it, I just know it. What you're doing now isn't good enough."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't fix this problem for you as fast you'd like Malfoy," Harry scoffed. "Change like that isn't going to happen overnight-"

"If it happens at all," Draco interrupted.

"He's not the enemy," Harry stated with an exclamation. "He's a giant nuisance, at worst."

"And what is it you need from this nuisance?" Draco asked. "You said you need something from him. What could possibly be worth putting up with his shite?"

"...Two major things," Harry sighed. "I need to know if I can use Snape's Dark Mark. You already know it has the ability to apparate Death Eaters straight to Voldemort. I hadn't really considered exploring this avenue with regard to Snape before because I thought I'd have my own Death Eater in a cage by now. Obviously life doesn't want me to have fun, or I'd have one by now. The possibility of Snape learning of his location could be huge... which is not going to happen without Dumbledore's compliance."

"Well, when I had the mark, we could apparate to his side whenever he called," Draco agreed. "We could also tell if he was near enough by the mark's contrast and by how much it hurt. So if he were back, or nearby, Severus would know. Still, not absolutely necessary. What's the second thing?"

"Aside from certain smaller inquiries only he can explain, I have some idea where the diary is," Harry answered. "The locket, Nagini, and the diary are the last ones. The locket I'm hoping to find in Black Manor during the break, without having to involve Sirius—unless absolutely necessary. Nagini I'm sure will be with Voldemort so I... or you, will kill it before I finally gut the psychopathic parasite. The diary is the last piece I need. The diary ties into Hardwin, Ginny and Dumbledore. Lastly... I want to know what happened that night, and... and what happened to this timeline's Harry."

"You really willing to put up with that righteous praise-whore for a few answers to a couple of questions? Isn't there another way to figure all that out? Can't you ask your mother?"

"...I'm sure you can guess how unsettling that sounds, let alone to actually do—I'd probably combust on the spot from sheer anxiety. Also, there's no proof what she knows is the truth. The world doesn't know about a second Potter son. There has to be a reason for that. Ideally, I'd hear both perspectives and line them up to see what sticks out. But more than that, I don't think she has anything to do with the diary."

"You don't know that," Draco challenged. "She might have it. Hardwin or the ginger could've given it to her."

"Her name is Ginny and the possibility of that is low," Harry countered. "We know the roosters were killed—that was likely Ginny—and Myrtle said, to her knowledge, no one entered the chamber, especially not Hardwin. Ginny's alive and not possessed so we know Hardwin didn't have to rescue her from the diary, but I'll give you one guess who put that ward on the chamber's entrance?"

"Dumbledore," Draco answered in recollection. "So that's why you think he has it."

Harry nodded, explaining, "It's a good—if not the best—reason for us NOT to do anything too reckless, even if Dumbledore does deserve it. I need that diary more than I want to hit him."

"Even if we play nice, even if we're his most loyal arse-lickers, I hope you're not expecting him to just give it to you, the eminent Reaper of Slytherin?"

"Of course not," Harry frustratingly answered, before annoyingly adding, "And don't call me that. I doubt he'd give it to anyone, but I have a fair idea where it is which tells me, more than anything, why he felt he needed to bind Nova." Draco's eyes widened with mild surprise as he waited for the answer to his speculation. "If I wasn't so angry at the time, I might've seen his play earlier but… well, whatever. He bound Nova, a phoenix that he recently learned can apparate anywhere within the castle that I've been to, such as, the infirmary, the chamber, our dorm rooms, Snape's office, or Dumbledore's-"

"Fuck me, his office!" Draco exclaimed. "Which he'd know since he has a phoenix as well. You really think he'd go so far as to stymie your turkey so you couldn't access his office?"

"Why take the chance?" Harry asked him. "Hogwarts is a fortress, his fortress, which means he probably keeps anything and everything of value close, including the diary. You also have to consider, he probably doesn't like me, or at the very least, doesn't trust me. From his perspective, I'm a piece in this game of his that he can't move, can't control, can barely predict, who knows intimate details about Voldemort and uses dark magic on a regular basis. I'm as big a hindrance to his plans as he is starting to be to mine, so, once he learned Nova can flame, he likely thought he needed to neutralize the threat of being breached."

"Then... then that means he'll never take it off," Draco reasoned, slightly disgusted.

Almost angrily, Harry begrudgingly explained, "It took me far too long to realize his promises were just bags of shit-flavored air, but yeah. I reckon he isn't about to let my phoenix free to roam about his nest. I'm making nice with Hardwin because from the beginning, I'd always intended to, but I completely expect some excuse as to why he can't take it off even if Hardwin and I do clique."

"That sneaky fucking tosser," Draco exhaled. "Gryffindor my arse, he's a total Slytherin! I mean, I'm actually impressed. Keeping you immobilized and getting you to watch out for Mini Potter... And you still want to work with that!?"

Harry let out a deep exhale, before firmly answering, "There is a line, Malfoy, and as infuriating as it is unreasonable, he just hasn't crossed it yet, because I'm also considering the diary—the next big step. Oddly enough, the professor just needs to learn. If I can't get him to see reason, then I'll absolutely sideline him, but for now, it's for the best, whether we like it or not, to weather all the shite he's making us shovel through. Because killing Voldemort is more than worth it."

Exasperated, Draco let out a huff of agitated air, commenting, "Up against Voldemort and Dumbledore... I don't think I ever want to be you," he muttered aloud, more to himself than Harry.

Harry snorted before mocking, "Like you'd ever have the goods to even qualify."

Rolling his eyes, Draco sarcastically retorted, "Oh, I really lost out there, didn't I? Reckon I'll just have to suffer being rich and handsome, living a long life with a beautiful bird happy to butter my biscuit whenever I want. Yeah, you really won that contest."

"No contest worth winning would ever include having to deal with your shite every day," Harry returned. "You're like that last kick when someone's already down."

Exhaling pent up stress, they both took a moment to feel the joy of being normal toward each other before Draco eventually asked, "So, can you get that curse ward off her leg?"

"I can't see the runes, nor have I figured out how to see them," Harry started. "I can't cut it off, burn it off, or force it off without actually being Dumbledore. He likely used the Elder wand, which makes it exorbitantly more indestructible. It won't degrade by lesser magic or poison. Well, basilisk venom does disintegrate some of it, but oddly enough, the material repairs itself, and I'm not entirely sure how it does that yet, unless I can see the rune scheme. Short of dousing her entire foot in basilisk venom—which I will not attempt, as I'm not a hundred percent sure it'll work—the material just reconstructs itself."

"What if you polyjuice into Dumbledore?"

"Only imitates physical appearance, not magical signature," Harry bluntly replied.

"Why don't you just blast your phoenix to ashes," Draco suggested. Harry's neck stiffened in surprise as wide eyes turned to Draco. "What?" he defended. "She's a phoenix, she'll come back-" he was cut off by a gust of wind that messed his hair as he turned away from Nova.

"Don't worry Nova, I'd never do that to you," Harry told his familiar. To Draco, he continued, "Her deaths have to happen naturally or else it stunts her growth, you callous tosser. And it's only a matter of time before I figure- ...what are they doing here?" Harry cut himself off as he focused on the entrance of the castle. Draco followed his gaze as he fixed his hair, landing on Hermione and Daphne in their workout attire. The girls walked to them as Harry looked up at the night sky, genuinely asking Draco, "How long were we in there?"

"See," Draco whispered angrily. "I told you Dumbledore's mucking it all up."

"Why were you two coming out of the Forbidden Forest?" Daphne started, her eyes already analyzing, ready to pick at there response despite the time of morning.

"Good morning," Hermione said, emphasizing to Daphne the correct manner to greet others before commenting, "We saw you coming out of the forest, and you're dressed for hiking."

Harry exhaled, a more domineering side of his brain offering him the option to lie with a high percentage of success, while another fearful, protective side offered him the option of telling them the truth. As he had tried to uphold after his conversation with Perenelle, he reasoned that if Voldemort would choose to lie, then he wouldn't. And as he had tried to do after his talk with Draco, they, along with Luna, Fleur, Perenelle, and Nicolas, were his safe place... a safe space he was training to the best of his ability to defend themselves. Draco let Harry take the lead, and he concisely and efficiently answered, "There's a wraith killing unicorns for their blood we reckon is actually a shade of Voldemort."

The single blink of wide-eyed, stunned girls was the only response Draco and Harry observed for several seconds before Draco added, "We've been hunting it whenever we can since Samhain, but I only ran into it once."

Hermione's astounded mind grasped at any information to respond with, replying, "Y-You mean Halloween."

"Our culture and traditions predate that monstrously superficial, commercial 'holiday'," Draco proclaimed, conveying his contempt for the holiday with quotations.

"You saw Vol- the dark lord," Daphne quickly asked. Like Hermione, Daphne wasn't completely scared to use the Dark Lord's name, but when taken completely aback by news someone very close to you is hunting it, she reverted to comfortable habit.

"Well, it was a cloaked being," Draco started, content to answer all questions. "And it was dark so I didn't get the best look. But it was sucking the blood of a unicorn."

"There's an extremely terrible magical backlash for killing divine magical creatures like a unicorn or a phoenix," Hermione noted aloud. "Though why would you think it's... him."

"Voldemort?" Harry pointedly asked, wondering if enough time had passed that he could depend on Hermione's occlumancy to reveal more. It had only been a little under two months, but she was the smartest witch he knew with the combined help of Daphne, himself, and Nicolas to coach her. Though he was curious if this information would help them. Harry knew they would rather know than not know—they told him enough times—but who doesn't say that until they know the awful truth? So far, he had only explained events that had already come to pass and Death Eaters acting on Voldemort's cause. They were still in the dark about most of it, and he struggled with needlessly darkening their souls with this. "I have my reasons... which I'll share with you later tonight, after I've checked your occlumancy."

Hermione's face blushed with excitement to the point she forgot to ask a follow-up question he knew she always had. Daphne asked in her stead, "You really think V-Voldemort—or his wraith—is here? In Hogwarts? How? Why?"

"I'll explain more, unless you prefer to remain blissfully ignorant," Harry tried and was immediately cut off.

"Oh, you mean stupid?" Hermione rhetorically asked. "No, that's not really me... us."

Daphne nodded before adding, "There's something we'd like to discuss with you as well." Harry turned to her expectantly, to which she answered, "We'll wait till later, you know, once I've checked your occlumancy," she jests. "In all seriousness, it can wait. If you've been up all night, you should get some rest. You look tired."

"You'll get no arguments from me," Draco said, beginning the walk towards his bed, when Harry replied, "Go ahead and start without us. We'll change and catch up." Draco slumped his shoulders and left anyway, though not to sleep.

—

Unsurprisingly, the moment he stepped into the Great Hall, Harry became the number one article of conversation by nearly every student and a few professors. With Daphne beside him, Draco and Tracey talked to each other behind, and Harry and his companions glided between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables through the thick mist of hushed conversations gushing from the majority in attendance. It had been a week since the acromantula attack, and since then, the grand majority of the school had seen him, which felt like an eternity of time to tell and retell the epic story of that hellish day. And now the fourteen-year-old student who had dived into the middle of a field of wizard-killing acromantulas was calmly walking down the hall. Pointing, gazing, gossiping—Harry ignored it all as he haggardly took the seat in front of Luna, Hermione, and Krum at the Ravenclaw table.

"Morning," was all Harry said to the three as he was struck by the sight of them. Hermione was half eating, half explaining the theory behind aerodynamics to Krum—with an occasional glance toward Harry. Luna, wearing her large radish earrings, was petting Nova. The sight of them shouldn't have any reason to affect him, but it did, and that confused and angered Harry, to the point he averted his eyes and called on his Occlumancy to help regulate his emotions for fear he might slip further.

Laying his head on crossed arms on the table, Harry was quiet for several long minutes, avoiding breakfast from sheer anger at himself for feeling so much when he had absolutely no reason to. It didn't make sense to him, and his anxiety actually increased when he debated with himself on the agonizing merits of talking to Perenelle about some sort of quick fix for his emotional and mental shake-ups. He could already see her concern, rejecting taking such drastic avenues for sensible treatments he didn't have the time or patience for.

His patience tried and mauled, Harry grabbed an apple as he got up to find peace of mind in the Chamber with Nāga before the start of the first period. Turning toward the entrance, he spotted Fleur walking in with Bill, talking amicably if not cheerfully. More memories, good and terrifying, flooded his consciousness without his consent, and Harry could feel his heartbeat drumming much too hard and fast, not unlike during his hardest workouts.

Again, calling on his Occlumancy, Harry waited a few seconds when Fleur turned to him. They locked eyes as flocks of flapping wings delivering the post entered the Great Hall from on high. Far too inside his head, Harry pondered about their kiss, the meaning behind Fleur's last words to him, 'thank you,' as well as her absence this morning during their physical training, before abstemiously observing his unspoken answer; Bill. The tall and handsome redhead turned to Harry, likely curious about Fleur's gaze. They were a picture; nostalgic and cherished. It was only then when Harry realized his gaze on Fleur must've passed the point of polite acknowledgment to invasive awkwardness.

Fortunately, Daphne placed a firm grip on his arm, calling his attention to the beautiful Hedwig dropping off his post from the Flamels secured mailbox. Momentarily relieved to see his avian friend, he spotted the package clutched in her talons. It was a brown box he automatically checked for curses before fixing his snowy owl a hearty plate of bacon. She had been working hard every day, dealing with all his mail, especially after each event he happened to have saved lives.

"What is it?" Daphne curiously asked as he looked in the parcel. With his occlumancy in heavy use, it was hard to convey any expressive interpretation on his blank face. Harry, himself, was very surprised by the contents of the package, enough to bend a small wrinkle of skin above his brow on the hard mask of his face.

'It's smart to bundle them all,' Harry thought oddly enough reminiscent of a Trojan horse. Putting these red envelopes inside, a larger package would skirt rejection as Harry, much less Hedwig, would not have accepted them if they were sent individually.

"Smart," Harry stated, drawing his friends' curiosity as he lifted a handful of howlers addressed to Ares Flamel. There were a half dozen of the cursed audio tormentors. Harry looked around the Great Hall since it had grown silent. Far too many students paid more attention to him than he cared for.

'Or maybe some of them knew,' his mind pondered.

"What are dhey?" Krum asked, observing the quiet trepidation around the hall.

"...Howlers," Hermione quietly answered above the eruption of whispers.

"If you're ever of a mood to walk around with a painful ringing in your ears for half a day, this is the most delectable way of doing so," Luna quixotically informed Krum, who only grew more confused, likely curious as to why anyone would be in a mood to experience that.

Unbothered and happy for a distraction, Harry inspected the howlers one at a time without opening them, diluting clues for his mind to play with. Most were cleanly written, which meant some had a deft hand at calligraphy while others felt impatient.

"One writes fast or often, one enjoys writing, judging by the large loops," he estimated, identifying three or four people's handwriting. Howlers weren't terribly expensive, but most would rather spend the money on a good treat, clothes, accessories, good tomes, or many other things, which suggested they had money to spare or were simply that determined. As there were a lot, it was likely both.

Harry turned to the Slytherin table and spotted a few smiles at his predicament—older years—but most seemed observant rather than expecting. He doubted Hufflepuff had anything to do with it, though his paranoia did comment that it would be a good cover. There were two tables in Harry's observance that seemed happy about his terrible delivery: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Harry knew right off the bat that this wasn't Fred or George's style, and the Gryffindors, as a rule, enjoyed any and all Slytherin misfortune, whether they were the cause or not.

What clinched his suspicions on Ravenclaw's culpability was that Hermione, Luna, Daphne, Tracy, and Draco all soon received their howlers, though in their case, one each. Gryffindor's rivalry was with Slytherin, and while Fred and George didn't discriminate when they pranked others, as a whole, the house of the brave didn't tend to target Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Though clearly he was the target, they didn't ignore the Slytherins seated at the Ravenclaw table or those that associated with them.

With a huff and mild aggravation, Draco genuinely asked Harry, "Why do you have to attract this shite first thing in the morning?" It was an irrational question Harry would only dignify with an irritated look toward the platinum blond.

"I heard they only get worse if you don't open them right away," Tracey nervously commented, looking at the red screamer addressed to her in her shaky hand.

"I suppose they've completely given up their sanity," Daphne ominously remarked, staring at her own howler. Harry noticed Hermione's eyes travel down the table to abusers that have grown far too daring.

"Aren't you going to open them?" Isobel angrily called out to the group. "They're probably too scared!" Qarinah added with just as much anger. Harry noticed Nimue looked glum and distant.

Harry also noticed Perenelle's concern and appreciated her not rushing to him; however, McGonagall did get up and started making her way to them, Professor Flitwick following behind her. With the mystery mostly resolved in his mind, Harry took all of the howlers in the package, then grabbed Luna's, Hermione's, Tracey's, and Daphne's howlers, adding them to the thick stack in his hand.

"Wh-" Draco started, cutting himself off to look at Harry as if to ask, 'what about me?' Harry rolled his eyes and quite reluctantly took Draco's howler as well—it nearly hurt him to do so.

"Nova," Harry called, extending his hand full of howlers. A couple of flaps of her beautiful black wings, Nova reached and clutched all the red envelopes. Harry took a bite of his apple as Nova effortlessly rose near enough to the magical ceiling so as to avoid endangering anyone. Unbeknownst to all except her master, Nova erupted into a brilliant ball of majestic fire. The heat of Nova was scorching and instant, so hot in fact, hearing the flame throttle out of her feels humid within the ear.

Harry himself was a little surprised by the intensity of the burn, giving him the distinct impression that Nova was angry herself. Whether she was angry about the prison forced on her foot or the howlers sent to her master, Harry couldn't distinguish, but the magically divine creature, with her legendary magic, was far more potent than any little enchantment some third-rate wizard performed on the post. All the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws directly under Nova, as well as Daphne, Tracey, Draco, and Krum, quickly evacuated away to tolerable temperatures, leaving Harry alone, feeling, though withstanding the intense heat.

Nova incinerated their pathetic efforts to bully as she exuded whips of flame with such strength, one might believe a second sun was born at that moment, and Harry could see their panic in their eyes as they rushed away in fear. He could easily imagine many of them, small and inexperienced to the horrors of the world, had been forced to realize how unsafe they could easily be. They didn't know Nova would never hurt them because Harry wasn't an institution they could willingly put all their faith in; Hogwarts was. He could imagine that, for many of them, the safe place they naturally put their faith in had failed them, twice, which meant anything could be scary now, and judging by plenty of panicked eyes, even Nova.

After absorbing the surprise, Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, McGonagall, Moody, and Dumbledore all brought out their wands as they moved to maintain order in the overreacting hall. It didn't take more than five seconds to destroy the howlers. Harry barely managed a second bite of his apple as he started to leave the dining hall, more at ease than moments earlier. Nova returned to her natural midnight-feathery state and landed easily enough on Harry's shoulder.

Passing the taken figures of Bill and Fleur, Harry nodded to Fleur, employing every ounce of control he had to keep from zeroing in on her full and sensual red lips—the first lips he'd kissed in a very long time—with a, "morning," without stopping. Fleur watched him go, responding with silence. Hoping she didn't notice the color rise in his cheeks, Harry easily admitted he'd miss her. He'd miss the bold and unreserved way she spoke her mind, as well as the way she called him Trouble Star. But he knew, more than anything, she'd be in less dangerous situations without his presence there to attract it. 'And she'll likely end up with Bill again,' Harry's mind lamely, pathetically, tried to cheer him with.

His classes, as well as lunch, were a haze as he spent most of it in his mind, combing through everything he knew about Voldemort from the time Horcrux-Voldemort supplanted his mind. When he wasn't considering the possible locations of Voldemort's hideouts, he pondered how to retrieve the locket from Black Manor—if it is indeed there. When those mental inquiries began to go around in circles, he considered how to deal with the Goblins and the threat to the Flamels. Peppered in sporadically were concerns about his friends and his ongoing debate of whether they would be safer with or without dangerous information. It all made Harry breathe heavily and come to no usable action without additional information.

'An exercise in futility,' Harry remembered Nicolas once saying, earlier in the summer when they were making contingency plan after contingency plan.

It wasn't until Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry stopped juggling all his mental quandaries, completely taken by their new professor. Harry whips around to Draco, drawing Daphne, Tracey and Blaise's curiosity, and demanded to know, "What the fuck is she doing here?"

"Hem-Hem," Harry heared the familiar high pitched, girlish tone sound, drastically increasing his aggravation. Draco answered nonchalantly, as the toad in green tweed and fluffy pink cardigan called for the class of Slytherin and Gryffindor's attention, "Oh, yeah, Umbridge is the new defense professor."

"And you didn't think to fucking tell me that," Harry griped as Daphne eyed him in confusion.

"This is her first day," Tracey tried to mitigate.

"She's not that bad," Draco reasoned, recalling fond memories of wonderful times as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad... "Oh," Draco bemoaned, realizing his slip into his superiority complex, and easily forgot how they had made the lives of anyone who hadn't fit their ideals miserable.

"Oh," Harry repeated turning around as Umbridge had the Carrow twins pass out new textbooks.

"I'm getting the impression you don't like her," Daphne casually told Harry as he heard Tracey ask Draco, "How do you know her?"

"She's a sadist," Harry answered as the class settled for her to begin.

I cut this chapter here because the class with Umbrige would've added another 4-5k and this was already 12.5K. That also means that I have some of that scene already written so hopefully I can write the next update faster.

Thank you all again for taking the time to read my fic. I'd be happy to hear any comments. As always, have a great one,

-Grae