Chapter Fourteen – Unexpected Consequences
The darkest hour of the night has hidden many a secret, many a cruel deed, and many a daring adventure throughout history. For what better protection could one wish for than the pitch-black darkness of an overcast winter's night, a winter's night as overcast as the one that had fallen over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The whole castle was fast asleep, even Harry, who often used dark nights like this for secret excursions. But on this night, after descending into the Chamber of Secrets the day before, fighting a Basilisk and nearly dying, he was simply too exhausted for that. And so he too slept soundly, ignoring the snoring of his roommates and the raging winter storm outside the windows. He slept, and in his sleep a strange dream came over him...
Darkness surrounded Harry. But it was not the darkness of the night, he realised. Through a crack in front of him, a bright light shone in his face. Harry narrowed his eyes.
Where am I? he asked himself. What am I doing here?
At that moment, a grin suddenly spread across his face, as if by magic, without him wanting it. And he had to pull himself together not to giggle out loud. That would have given him away, because ... he wanted to scare his sister.
Sister? Since when did he have a sister?
Harry felt even more confused than before. But there was no doubt. The purpose of his crouching in that cupboard – for it was a cupboard he was hiding in, that too was suddenly completely clear to him – was to scare his little sister. She had spat in his pumpkin juice at breakfast this morning. She would pay for that!
A sound jolted Harry from his thoughts of revenge. He looked through the crack in the cupboard door into a magnificent entrance hall. A long crimson carpet covered the marble floor, and the walls, also of light marble, were lined with golden chairs and tables and busts of serious-looking witches and wizards. From the ceiling hung a crystal chandelier that, if not beautiful, was all the more magnificent.
But Harry had no eyes for all this splendour. On the other side of the hall, a dark door opened and three figures stepped through. Harry's eyes widened as he recognised two of the three. They were Daphne's parents! He had only seen them once, in Dumbledore's office after the events at the Dueling Club, but their faces were burned into his memory. Especially Daphne's mother, who looked so much like her daughter, only not as beautiful, not as clever, and not as proud. Her face was pale and her eyes fluttered as if they couldn't bear to stay still. Her husband beside her looked no better. His face was also marked with fear and anxiety. This made them the exact opposite of the third figure, a tall man with thin, light blonde hair and above all a haughty expression on his face, as if his presence here was beneath him. The man also looked strangely familiar to Harry, as if he had seen him, or someone who looked very much like him, before.
The man gave Mr and Mrs Greengrass an expectant look. He raised an eyebrow and a jolt went through both of them. They fell to their knees before him. Mrs Greengrass even kissed the man's boots, once, twice, three times. Each time a loud smacking sound filled the room. Harry's insides clenched. He felt sick to his stomach.
"I accept your apology," the man said calmly, as if ordering dinner in a restaurant. "But don't ever forget your place. Without me, you are nothing."
"Of course, sir. You are too kind," Mrs Greengrass said.
"We will never let you down again, sir," her husband added.
"I hope not. For your sake."
Disgust and shame on an unprecedented scale assailed Harry. He had to strain not to vomit as he watched Mr and Mrs Greengrass escort their guest out. As soon as they disappeared through the front door, Harry rushed out of the cupboard. Tears ran down his cheeks. His nausea gave way to rage. A rage he had never felt before in his young life. It was as if flames were burning inside him, consuming him alive.
He ran down the hall and up the marble stairs to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and wiped the tears from his face.
He had made a decision.
Never, ever, under no circumstances would he ever allow himself to be humiliated like his parents had been today. He would rather rip out his tongue and choke on his own blood. From today he would learn. More stubborn and determined than anyone had ever done before. He would learn and become powerful, a powerful witch who would never have to bow down to anyone.
Harry stepped in front of the mirror on his dressing table. Gone was the innocence of his childhood. Hard, golden eyes looked back at him.
...
Bathed in sweat, Harry's eyes snapped wide open. It took him a moment to realise where he was. It was Gryffindor Tower, and behind the curtains of his bed, the snoring of his roommates and the whistling of the wind outside the windows reached him.
What the hell had that been?
Daphne had always loved the night, the silence that fell over the world when most people were asleep and she could pursue her secret activities, whether it was sneaking off to her family's library or the Restricted Section in Hogwarts, or flying in her crow form as the cool night wind blew through her feathers, taking all her cares with it. She had always loved the darkness too, the promise of protection and comfort. But at this moment, Daphne hated it all. The night, the cold, the darkness.
She froze so miserably that her teeth chattered and her fingers, which she used to cling to the tree trunk, were numb with pain. In the darkness of the night, she could see nothing but the bright windows of the house and the occasional outline of her family, warm and comfortable inside, with enough to eat and drink and no thought for her. Daphne's stomach growled loudly at the thought of all the food she had seen piling up on the table before she was chased out.
Her tormentor's growl echoed beneath her. What she would give to be ignored by him in the same way as by her family. But that happiness was denied her, and so she had been sitting here in the cold on the tree for many hours now. She had long since lost count.
Tears welled up in Daphne's eyes. Why? Why were they doing this to her? Surely she had never done anything to them...?
Daphne knew the questions wouldn't help. They never did. The bitter truth was that she was alone. Completely alone. She had no one. No one who cared about her. Maybe her parents would have, if they weren't dead. If they hadn't been killed in some stupid car accident.
The thought confused Daphne. Her parents were still alive, after all, and why should she long for their comfort? She had nothing to do with those who came before her, not even to think about.
A sound snapped Daphne out of her thoughts. The back door of the house opened.
"Come in, Ripper. Before you catch a cold," a voice called out, filling Daphne with pure hatred. It was Aunt Marge's voice. They weren't related by blood, but her family forced her to call her Aunt.
Daphne heard her tormentor run into the house, but she didn't dare move yet. More minutes passed in the biting cold before she heard another voice.
"Boy," her aunt called, not the one with the dog, but the one with the horse face. Her mother's sister. "Enough of your nonsense. Get in."
Slowly, Daphne climbed down from the tree that had been her refuge and prison for so long. Her whole body ached. She trotted back into the house where her aunt was waiting for her with a sharp stare. "You have four minutes in the bathroom," she hissed, "and then back in the cupboard."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Daphne said quietly.
She walked up the stairs to the first floor where the bathroom was. She passed her family's bedrooms, from which came loud snoring. Daphne's stomach was still growling, but Aunt Petunia hadn't said anything about eating. It looked like she was going to bed hungry again. At least she hadn't been bitten by Ripper this time...
When Daphne walked into the bathroom and saw herself in the mirror, her face ashen, her lips blue and the tears drying on her cheeks, she was surprised herself that, despite everything, the hope in her eyes had not yet died. The hope that one day all this would be over, that she would find a place where she could be happy, her place in this world.
The thought filled Daphne's heart with a warm feeling – when suddenly she noticed something. The eyes staring back at her from behind the glasses ... they were green.
...
Panting, Daphne opened her eyes. She was lying in the hospital wing and it was pitch black around her.
What kind of strange dream had that been?
The next morning at breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry felt tired. After waking from his strange dream, he had been unable to get back to sleep and had tossed and turned in bed for hours without getting the rest he had hoped for. Daphne beside him didn't seem much better, if he interpreted her scowl correctly. Even though Madam Pomfrey had kept her in the hospital wing overnight, ordering her to get a good night's sleep, and Daphne had been clever enough not to slip out of the school healer's care so soon after their trip to the Chamber of Secrets.
Daphne's expression darkened even more when she saw the Daily Prophet in Hermione's hands. On the front page was the picture of some head of department at the Ministry who had been caught rendezvousing with a mermaid and whose career was now in ruins.
"We should stand there," Daphne whispered to him. She glanced around the hall where the students were busily eating. "Look at them now. They have no idea who they have to thank for allowing them to sit here and stuff food down their throats..."
"Dumbledore was right about one thing," Harry whispered back. "Defeating Voldemort once and for all is the top priority."
Daphne looked at him with a warm expression in her eyes. "Of course. He deserves to die."
Harry nodded, and they ate side by side in silence for a while longer, until a group of red-haired students entered the hall. They were Ron and his brothers, accompanying their sister. Ginny looked much better than the day before and smiled weakly at Harry as she passed him.
The Weasleys joined them at the table, Ron to Harry's left and Ginny facing them next to Hermione. Fred, George and Percy joined their friends in the middle of the table.
"Good morning, Harry," Ginny said quietly, unable to look him in the eye. She looked sheepishly down at her lap and, as she did every time she spoke to him, her cheeks turned bright red.
Harry stifled a sigh. Instead, he said, "Good morning, Ginny. Are you all right?"
"I'm hungry, but otherwise I'm fine."
Ron looked at his sister. "If you need anything, Gin, just let me know."
Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled."Are you her nanny now?" he asked Ron.
"If I can't do anything else. I don't want to be completely useless," Ron replied with a shrug.
"Oh, Ron, you're not –" Ginny started, but was cut off by another voice.
"What happened, anyway?" called Seamus, and the other students gave them curious looks as well. "Why was Ginny in the hospital wing and why are you all acting so strange?"
At Seamus' words, Ginny turned pale, while Ron's face turned unnaturally red. "Nothing's happened," he snorted. "Mind your own business."
"You don't believe that yourself. First Greengrass is taken to the hospital wing injured," Seamus' gaze wandered briefly to Daphne, who continued to eat unimpressed. Harry, on the other hand, clenched his hands into fists. "And then Ginny. And I heard that the two of them and Harry were found limping and bleeding in the dungeons earlier. And you expect us to believe that nothing happened? Come on, you can tell us."
"Mind your own damn business," Ron repeated, louder this time. "Now shut up. Or I'll shut you up."
"Quiet, both of you," Percy called to them. "Or you will be in detention for the rest of the week."
That settled the matter for the moment. Seamus said nothing more, but he and the others continued to give them curious looks as they whispered to each other. And Ron had begun to butter his slices of toast so vigorously that they broke into pieces. Harry couldn't tell if his friend's frustration was because he hadn't been able to help when Ginny had been in danger, or because he didn't even know what the danger had been. Somewhat reluctantly, Harry had followed Dumbledore's instructions not to tell his friends any details of what had happened. Although he had a feeling that Hermione had figured some of it out.
"Always a pleasure with you Gryffindors," Daphne murmured quietly.
"You can always sit at the Slytherin table again," Harry said.
"Hah! You really are a joker, Sir Harry. Are you trying to start a massacre?"
A slight smile played on Harry's lips. "I've had enough of that for now. Are you finished?" Daphne nodded. "Okay, let's go then."
They got up and reached for their bags. Hermione looked up from across the table. "Are you leaving already?" she asked. "I thought maybe we could study together later, Harry. What do you think?"
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but Daph and I have already agreed that we're going to study together all day."
"Oh, okay. Then maybe tonight we can..." His look stopped Hermione. "You two have plans then too?"
Harry smiled at her apologetically. "We want to try a few more spells. But I'm sure we'll be able to study together again soon. For the exams at the latest."
Beside him, Daphne snorted, but very quietly by her standards, so that it could pass for a loud intake of breath. Harry could only imagine what she was thinking. What were they going to study for the exams when they were so much further along in their own studies?
Hermione gave him a faint smile. "That would be nice. You can never study too much, can you?"
"Horcrux," Daphne said, dropping a heavy book on the table in the Room of Requirement, causing the table to shake.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Horcrux," his best friend repeated. "What Dumbledore was talking about. What Voldemort created. Horcrux." At his questioning look, she continued. "I just can't get over what Dumbledore said yesterday, those soul vessels he was talking about. Because I've never heard anything like it before. And for good reason." She opened the book and pointed to a black and white drawing of a man whose features were distorted inhumanly, as if he were in terrible pain. A dark liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth, and in his hand he held a small bone with bits of flesh still attached. Harry didn't even want to know what kind of flesh it was. "This is magic of the darkest kind, Harry," Daphne said, shuddering. "And I've read some wild stuff."
"And a Horcrux is a soul vessel?"
Daphne nodded. "You sever a piece of your soul and encase it in an object. As long as that piece of your soul is intact, you can't die."
"But isn't that..." Harry searched for the right expression.
"Stupid?" asked Daphne. "Of course it's stupid. Incredibly stupid, in fact. Who would willingly do that to their soul? I mean, all the possibilities it takes away."
"I don't think Voldemort needs blood magic, as powerful as he is."
"Well, he can't become an Animagus that way," Daphne said with a grim smile that showed her teeth. "Advantage for us."
"Yes," Harry said. "But, Daph? Dumbledore was talking about soul vessels, wasn't he? Vessels. So he created several."
Daphne's eyes widened. "Oh, he's even stupider than I thought. And now I understand why Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to know..."
Harry looked at Daphne. It was almost cute, the way she was biting her lip thoughtfully, struggling with what they had just learned and the fact that maybe Dumbledore was right to swear them to secrecy after all. He knew how much his best friend had to resist, after all, it was her goal to rise above all other witches and wizards.
He hadn't told her about his strange dream last night, which hadn't felt like a dream at all. More like a memory, as real and searing as when, barely a year ago, Daphne had told him, in her own voice, of that moment in her seventh year of life when she had witnessed the humiliation of her parents. When her life had shattered into a thousand shards like a glass artwork. And now you had to be very careful not to cut yourself on the shards. But Harry had always been a cautious person, or at least he had never paid much attention to danger. Gently, he placed his hand on hers.
"Thank you, Daphne."
Daphne looked at him confused. "What are you thanking me for?"
"For saving my life in the Chamber."
Daphne lifted her free hand and placed it on his cheek. Gently, her fingers stroked his skin, leaving a pleasant goosebump. "I was only doing what you would have done if our situations were reversed."
"That's right," Harry said, squeezing her hand.
"Did it feel good at least, all that ... life power I've given you?"
"I've never felt as powerful as I did the moment I awoke from the darkness. It was as if I could achieve anything, as if the mountains would fall to their knees before me if I only wanted them to." Daphne slid even closer to him at his words. Her hand on his cheek trembled slightly. He looked directly into her amber eyes, in which he recognised his own distorted reflection. "It was like a fire burning inside me. But..." He took a deep breath. "But it went out as quickly as it came."
Daphne lowered her hand. A sense of loss came over Harry and his skin prickled where her fingers had touched. Daphne's brow furrowed. Then she shook her head and said softly, "That's because you had nothing to keep that power within you. To keep that ember alive."
"What would I have had to do?"
"Unless you happen to have a Leviathan's pearl or a unicorn's heart somewhere, I'm afraid there's nothing you could have done."
"No, I don't," Harry said. "Do you think you could order them from the owl catalogue?"
Daphne smiled at him before straightening her chair. "Let's get on with it," she said. "I really want to work out this Visceral Decomposition Curse today. It can't be that hard, can it? I mean, we worked out the eyeball thing, didn't we?"
Harry pulled one of the books that were spread out in front of them over to him and read the paragraph one more time. "Yes, but the eyeballs cover a much smaller area of the body, and there are only two of them. But the theory of internal curse effects says that with each additional organ affected, the mental effort..."
"I think maybe it was all a bit too much for her," Ron said as they stepped through the Fat Lady's portal into the common room. "Can't you have a word with her? Like, girl to girl?"
Hermione looked at her friend and met his pleading gaze. He wasn't looking well, but he was looking much, much better than he had in those terrible hours when they had searched desperately for Ginny and found her nowhere. She nodded at him. "Of course. I'll do it right away."
With that, Hermione walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitories and stopped outside the door of the first year's dormitory. No one else would be there at this time of day, but she knocked anyway. After all, her parents had taught her good manners. When no one answered, she knocked again, this time saying loudly, "It's me, Ginny. Hermione. I'd like to talk to you if you don't mind."
There was a second or two of silence, then a voice said, "You can come in."
Hermione pushed the handle down and entered the dormitory, which looked exactly like the one she shared with Lavender and Parvati, except there were six beds instead of three. And on one of those beds, right next to one of the windows that let in the cold winter sun, Ginny was lying on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow. Hermione walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"How are you?" she asked, "You disappeared so quickly earlier."
Ginny mumbled something but Hermione didn't understand. She leaned over to her.
"You have to speak properly for people to understand you. And normally you look at a person when you speak to them. At least if you don't want to be rude."
A shock went through Ginny's body. She sat up and looked at her. Ginny's eyes were red and you could clearly see that she had been crying. An uneasy feeling came over Hermione. How was she, the only child and social outcast, qualified to deal with this situation? She regretted getting involved, but now she couldn't go back. And probably Ron and his brothers were even less qualified. It didn't help.
"What do you care?" asked Ginny, sniffling.
"We're just worried about you."
"I don't believe you. Nobody cares about me."
"That's not true," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Quite the opposite. Your brothers care about you, and your parents do, and I do."
"No one else?"
Hermione looked at Ginny, confused. What was the girl's problem? She had a big, loving family, what more could she want? Then it suddenly hit her. All year, Ginny had only had eyes for one person.
"Harry cares about you too," she said, "He asked you if you were all right earlier. Remember?"
Ginny's lips began to quiver as if she was about to burst into tears again, but she controlled herself. But her voice, when she spoke then, was trembling. "Then why isn't he here? Wh-why hasn't he spoken to me ... properly, I mean, since ..." She fell silent.
"Since he saved you?" asked Hermione as sympathetically as she could. She didn't know if she was doing a good job, but at least Ginny wasn't crying. Instead the younger girl nodded, her eyes fixed on her lap. Hermione continued. "That must have felt good."
"Felt good?" asked Ginny incredulously. She lifted her head to look at Hermione. "Good? You should have seen him, Hermione. He looked so – no, Professor Dumbledore said I shouldn't say anything." Ginny bit her lips, fighting with herself, and then it came out. "But you should have seen him! The air around him was almost shimmering! He was almost shaking with power! And... And he saved me, tried to calm me down when I panicked. It... it felt warm, in here." She pointed at her stomach.
Hermione wasn't sure why, but she could understand Ginny. When she had seen Harry in the hospital wing afterwards, with his tousled black hair, that bold smile on his lips... there he had been again, the boy who had saved her from that troll, and a warm feeling had gone through her stomach at that moment too. It had been beautiful, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from smiling so much that it almost hurt.
A shadow flitted across Ginny's face. "But most of all, he looked after Greengrass. He even carried her. I know she was unconscious and I wasn't, and she went with him to save me, but..."
"You wish he'd given you that kind of attention," Hermione said sympathetically.
Ginny nodded. "Not just then, but all year. She's always with him. And she's really pretty, of course, and talented and confident and ... And when I tried to talk to Harry, I couldn't even open my mouth. I'm so pathetic." A single tear ran down Ginny's cheek before she could wipe it away.
"You're not pathetic, Ginny. We can't help what our hearts decide. And..." Hermione swallowed the bitter taste that had settled on her tongue. How ironic that she was trying to comfort Ginny with the same words she had told herself. "And Harry is not blind. He'll see what you have to offer. He's my friend and he's never mentioned to me that he has such feelings for Daphne. They're just friends, just like Ron and I are friends."
"Then it's not too late for me?" asked Ginny hopefully.
"No, it's not too late," Hermione replied, adding mentally, For both of us. We both still have a chance.
But she didn't say the words. Instead she stood up and gave Ginny a gentle look. "Get some more rest. Get some sleep and the world will look very different again."
Harry let out a long yawn and stretched in his chair, which had become a little uncomfortable after sitting for hours.
"Tired?" asked Daphne, who was sitting next to him, her nose buried in a thick book and many fully written pages of parchment on the table beside her. Her right hand held her wand, moving it in small, circular motions.
"A bit. I didn't sleep very well tonight."
Daphne looked at him sideways. "Bad dreams?"
"Something like that," Harry said, stretching again. "What do you say we stretch our legs a bit before dinner? And I'd like to... practice my new-found skills."
Daphne's eyes lit up at his words. She slammed the book in front of her so hard that it clattered. "It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?"
"Yes, as if..." Harry thought about how to describe the feeling.
"As if anything is possible. As if there are no more limits and restrictions."
Harry nodded. Daphne's words had hit the nail on the head. He had never felt so free as in that moment in the Chamber of Secrets when he had found his wings, or they had found him, and he had taken to the skies. Granted, he had also been panicked for Daphne at that moment, but that was different. Flying itself had felt wonderful. How great it must be to do it out in the fresh air, under a sky that stretched endlessly above you. To feel the real wind on your wings, to just enjoy the moment without fear of a raging basilisk, cursed diaries, and possessed eleven-year-old girls...
"You look so sweet when you smile so dreamily."
Daphne's words made Harry jump. She smiled mischievously at him and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Um, yeah," he said. "So you'd be in?"
"Are you going blindly through the world? Do you really think you have to ask me that?"
Harry laughed. Together they got up from the table, grabbed their things, and left the Room of Requirement. Their steps took them down seven floors to the entrance portal and from there out into the castle grounds, which were bathed in a blazing orange by the light of the setting sun.
They did not run, but they walked quite fast to find an undisturbed place where they could transform unobserved. And so they hurried to the small grove by the lake, where, protected from the eyes of the castle, they had already practised many a spell they didn't want their teachers and classmates to see. With a shudder, Harry remembered how he had accidentally cut Daphne's hand and absorbed some of her life power, after failing to do so with dozens, if not hundreds, of earthworms. He had improved enormously since then, but such small creatures as earthworms, with not even enough life power to light a candle, still gave him trouble. How difficult it would be with a cat, Harry thought then. Especially a very special cat...
As they approached the grove, they slowed their steps for a voice came to them from among the trees. And it was a voice they were not unfamiliar with. Harry and Daphne glanced at each other, then both crept closer until they recognised their classmate, Tracey Davis. The two of them took cover behind a bush.
Tracey was standing on the edge of the lake, her wand arm raised and pointing at a cup sitting on a log. Her arm was shaking. "Depulso."
Nothing happened.
Tracey groaned in despair. "Argh! Come on. Depulso! Depulso! DEPULSO!"
A faint flash of red shot from her wand and hit the cup, which wobbled for a moment, then stopped. Tracey ruffled her hair.
"You're too tense," Daphne said suddenly, rising from their hiding place. "If you try to force it, it's doomed to fail."
Tracey spun around and pointed her wand at her. But Harry had been holding his wand since they had entered the grove and was now pointing it at Tracey. "I'd think about that," he said as he also stepped out from behind the bushes.
"Greengrass? Potter?" asked Tracey.
"How perceptive you are. Tell me, what are you doing here?" Daphne pointed to the cup on the log.
Tracey's face hardened. She lowered her wand and Harry did the same, but more slowly, keeping his wand in his hand, ready to raise it at a moment's notice. He didn't trust Pansy's lapdog as far as he could spit.
"None of your business," Tracey hissed.
"I've never seen you here before," Daphne said, unimpressed. "Since when do you come here to do magic in secret?"
"None of your business." Tracey gave them a scornful look, then turned and reached for her bag, which was lying on the floor beside her.
"You'll never be able to defend yourself like that," Daphne said. "Harry, can you show her how to do it properly?"
Harry looked at Daphne. What was her plan? Surely it was obvious that Tracey wanted nothing to do with them.
"Harry, would you be so kind?"
Daphne smiled sweetly at him. Tracey stopped as well and looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
Harry shrugged and pointed his wand at the cup on the log. "Depulso."
A bright red flash shot out of his wand and hit the cup, which was thrown back and shattered against the nearest tree. But not only that. The log beneath it and several cubic metres of earth were also thrown back, leaving a deep hole in the ground with only a few torn roots protruding.
"Thanks, Harry," Daphne said. "See, Davis? That's the way to do it. Half-hearted efforts won't get you anywhere, and most importantly, they will never protect you."
Tracey looked at them both, her eyes wide. Then she wrinkled her nose and lifted her chin proudly. She whirled around again. "You two really are arrogant arseholes," she said and disappeared into the gathering darkness.
Harry and Daphne were left behind, looking at their classmate with pensive eyes, but in different ways.
"What was that all about?" asked Harry.
"I wanted to see how she reacted," Daphne replied. "Interesting, very interesting."
"Not all people are your guinea pigs, Daph."
Daphne clicked her tongue. "I know that too, but is it so bad to be curious? After all, I've got more than five years to sleep in the same room with her, and unlike Parkinson and Bulstrode, she's got more than hyena crap in her head."
"You said she didn't have a nice home?" said Harry thoughtfully, feeling unexpected sympathy for the girl.
"I suppose so," Daphne said with a shrug. She turned and reached for his hand. "But I think we're here for another reason."
A smile spread across Harry's face. "Oh yes!"
They threw their bags on the floor, gave each other one last deep smile, and felt around for the magic inside them.
It was as if Harry had thrown off heavy iron chains and stepped out of a dark dungeon into the light. A comforting warmth flowed through him, from his heart to his chest to his head to his arms and legs. A tingling sensation spread over his skin. He could still feel his shape changing, then he shot into the air, wings outstretched, beak raised in a cry of joy. He had been right. It felt even much, much better than in the chamber!
Another scream rang out beside Harry and he saw Daphne flying beside him in her crow form. Below them, the trees and castle grew smaller and smaller. Daphne's eyes lit up with joy and for a brief moment, perhaps just a split second, Harry thought there was a green glimmer in them. But the glimmer was gone as quickly as it had come, and Harry wasn't sure if the evening light had played a trick on him.
Suddenly Daphne shot past him, shouting, "Whoever gets to the mountain top first!"
"Hey, that's not fair! You've got a head start!"
"Catch me!"
When Harry and Daphne arrived in the Great Hall later for dinner, their hair was completely dishevelled and there were still broad grins on their faces. In good spirits, they sat down as usual at the Gryffindor table opposite Ron and Hermione, who looked at them curiously.
"What have you been up to?" asked Ron. "You look stormy."
"We've been flying," Harry said with a grin.
Ron and Hermione exchanged curious glances and finally Ron said, "Harry, it's obvious with you, but with you, Daphne? I don't remember you enjoying flying in class."
"Everything has its pros and cons," Daphne said.
"That's true, of course," Hermione said. "I don't particularly like flying either, but I can see that there are situations where it can be useful. Of course, not everyone can be a born flyer like you, Harry." Hermione beamed at him and pushed a plate towards him. "Here, I saved you some, I know how much you like it."
It was a large slice of treacle tart and Harry's mouth watered just at the sight of it. "Thanks, Hermione, you're the best!"
Hermione's smile grew even brighter as Harry pulled the plate towards him and reached for his fork. But then a strange thing happened. Harry stared at the treacle tart in front of him and was about to start eating when a sudden sinking feeling spread through his stomach. The smell of the treacle tart rose to his nose and he had to suppress a gag.
"Are you all right?" asked Hermione.
Harry shook his head. "Yeah, it's just... somehow I don't have much of an appetite..." The words confused him. He loved treacle tart, but at the moment he felt like he was looking at the days-old, cold gruel that Aunt Petunia had once served him for a week after he'd eaten one of Dudley's chocolate bars.
"Then I'll have it," Daphne said, pulling the plate towards her. Ignoring Harry's surprised expression and Hermione's offended look, she began to eat the treacle tart, first one bite, then a second and a third. It was only when the silence that had settled over the table was almost physically palpable that she finally looked up, the fork with the next piece on its way to her mouth. "What?"
"Daph..." Harry said.
"Yes?"
"You don't like treacle tart ..."
Daphne looked at him, then at the fork in her hand and the treacle tart on the plate in front of her. The fork dropped from her hand.
Soon after, Harry was hurrying through the school corridors behind Daphne. She had jumped up from her seat as soon as her fork had landed clattering on her plate. And Harry had immediately followed her, past the surprised Gryffindors, ignoring the shouts of Ron and Hermione at their backs.
They had reached the hospital wing in record time. Daphne pushed open the door and called, "Madam Pomfrey! I ate treacle tart!"
The healer rushed over and led Daphne to one of the beds. "Are you allergic?" she asked.
"No, I'm not."
"Do you feel unwell?"
Daphne shook her head vigorously. "No, it's not that."
"Then what's the problem?"
"It didn't even occur to me not to eat it when I saw it. And I liked it!"
Madam Pomfrey looked at her, puzzled. She frowned, as if she wasn't sure Daphne was in her right mind.
Harry spoke up. "Madam Pomfrey, the thing is, Daphne doesn't like treacle tart. She doesn't eat it. It's a rule."
Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed even more, but she began to put Daphne through a series of magical tests. She moved her wand up and down in front of Daphne, and made other more complicated movements as she muttered spells.
The minutes dragged on, and all the while Daphne's fingernails clawed at Harry's hand as she looked at him anxiously. Kind of amusing, Harry thought, considering everything they'd been through together when she hadn't acted like this. But maybe running away from home and being on the run from the Ministry wasn't as bad as accidentally eating some dessert.
Finally, Madam Pomfrey lowered her wand. She took a deep breath.
"What's wrong?" asked Daphne. "What illness do I have?"
"None at all, Miss Greengrass," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Then what is wrong with me?"
"I have a suspicion, but first I would like to consult someone who has more experience in this field than I do."
That someone seemed to be Professor Dumbledore, for after Madam Pomfrey had disappeared briefly into her office, the Headmaster entered the hospital wing only a few minutes later. Madam Pomfrey walked towards him and they could hear the two adults talking quietly. From time to time they glanced in Harry and Daphne's direction.
Daphne shivered and Harry stroked her palm gently. "I'm sure it's going to be all right," he said. "Just wait."
Daphne bit her lip but said nothing.
After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore finished their conversation and joined them.
"Daphne, Harry, what are you two up to now?" said Dumbledore as he waved his wand to conjure up a magnificent golden upholstered chair and sat down opposite them. Harry almost felt a little envious at this effortless display of powerful magic, but then Dumbledore was a hundred or so years older than they were. It was probably too much to expect them to match him already in terms of magical power and finesse.
"What's wrong with me, Professor?" asked Daphne.
"There is nothing wrong with you, Daphne. In fact, I am happy for you that you have discovered the delicious taste of homemade treacle tart for yourself."
Daphne froze and it was Harry who replied, "Please don't joke, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. I apologise. But, Harry, if you don't mind me asking, you have always liked treacle cake, have you not?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Well then ... until this evening. Somehow I felt sick when I saw it today."
Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey exchanged a quick glance before turning back to the pair. "It is likely that these two events are related," Dumbledore said. "And the tests Madam Pomfrey carried out also suggest that they are."
"What do you mean?" asked Harry and Daphne at the same time.
This time Madam Pomfrey replied. "Miss Greengrass, Mr Potter, you two share a special bond. What the two of you have experienced tonight is an expression of that bond." Seeing the confusion on their faces, the healer continued. "I cannot say how this bond formed between you, but normally it develops through long life together, through shared sorrow and shared joy, through extreme emotions that exist between two living beings and through which their magic has bonded. And when I say normally, I don't mean that it happens very often. We know it mostly from the animal world, or in some cases between a wizard and his familiar. Merlin and his owl Archimedes, for example."
Harry was at a loss for words. Warm and cold shivers alternated over his goose-pimpled body. Daphne's hand clenched in his. She had to be thinking the same thing he was. What they had done in the Chamber, the means Daphne had used to save his life, and everything they had done together before that, the promises they had made to each other, all of it had to have created this bond between them. A bond that affected their behaviour.
"What, what does that mean?" asked Harry.
"It's mostly up to you," said Madam Pomfrey. "You can nurture the bond if you wish, and it will lead to a very strong connection between you, but there is no way of knowing in advance how strong it will be. You may feel some of each other's emotions, especially if you are close. You may also adopt each other's behaviour or tastes, as you did today."
"And if we don't nurture it?" asked Daphne.
"Your bond is still weak and has not yet been strengthened. If you don't do anything, if you don't nurture it, if you don't have contact with each other for a week or so, it should resolve itself. It would be as if the bond between you had never existed. From a healer's point of view there is no harm in either way. So I can't recommend one way or the other. It's your choice."
Harry and Daphne blinked at the healer, once, twice. Then they both inhaled sharply.
"Wow," Harry said.
"Wow," Daphne agreed.
They looked at each other, then both looked away quickly. Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. We will sort this out between us..."
"May I make a request?" asked Daphne, her eyes downcast.
"Of course," Dumbledore said.
"Could you please not tell anyone about this?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "In that case too, of course. If anyone knows the importance of secrecy, it's me."
Madam Pomfrey added, "My Healer's Oath binds me to silence, if that is what you wish. I will say nothing. As I said, from a medical point of view, the bond between you is neither bad nor good. It is simply there. That's all I need to know. Good evening."
With that, Madam Pomfrey took her leave and disappeared into her adjoining office. Professor Dumbledore also rose and with a wave of his wand made his golden chair disappear. Again Harry felt a pang of envy at the effortless display of his magical skills.
"I will take my leave too," Dumbledore said. "I trust you have much to discuss. Good night to you."
With that, Dumbledore walked out. An intense silence remained. Harry and Daphne were still holding hands and neither of them made a move to change that. But neither of them made a move to say anything either. After a few moments of silence it became too much for Harry.
"Daph," he began, "we –"
"Not here. Let's, let's go to our usual place, shall we?" said Daphne.
Harry nodded. They rose from the bed where they had been sitting side by side and trotted out into the empty corridor. It must be close to curfew. They didn't meet a soul all the way up to the seventh floor.
At Harry's request, the Room of Requirement took the form of a cosy room with a fireplace. There was a large sofa in front of a crackling fire and snow was falling softly outside the window. It was peaceful and the best place Harry could think of for the conversation, the all-important conversation they both knew they had to have.
They sat down on the sofa and looked at each other. Daphne's cheeks glowed pink in front of the fire, and Harry felt his face grow quite warm as well. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn't dare look Daphne in the eye without sinking to the floor in embarrassment. A second or two passed, then he opened his mouth – when he suddenly felt warm fingertips on his face.
Harry opened his eyes to see Daphne's, barely a hand's breadth away. He froze, not daring to move.
Daphne stroked her fingers over his cheek, the line of his jaw, and tucked errant dark hairs into place behind his ears. "I don't want to give it up," she said. "I want us to nurture our bond."
Harry met her eyes and saw the worry that lurked beneath the calm surface of her words, but in her eyes it was as clear as the moon in a cloudless night sky. Daphne's thoughts and emotions were flying so fast and thick that it was impossible for him to hold on to any of them long enough to think about them. But he knew that Daphne was brave and proud, beautiful and intelligent, and that her presence in his life was something fundamentally good. He realised that he hated to see her worry.
Harry leaned forward, cupping her face with one hand. Both of them trembled, and he hardly dared to move for fear of shattering that shivering moment. For a little time, he didn't know how long, there was nothing but the two of them, the drowning depth of Daphne's eyes, where a green glimmer had settled, the warmth of her skin pressed against his hand, smooth under his fingertips, her own warm fingers trailing over his face and throat and through his hair.
Time passed. He didn't care how much. Daphne's eyes made time into something unimportant, something that fit itself to their needs and not the other way around. The moment lasted until it was finished, and only then was time allowed to resume its course.
He looked into Daphne's eyes, their faces almost touching, and said, his voice low, steady and certain, "Of course we will."