A/N: Howdy everyone! Quick turn on Chapter 2. I was halfway through it when I posted Chapter 1. I must say I've been absolutely floored by the response to this story. A huge thank you to those who have reviewed, PM'd, and favorited. It certainly provides a boost to motivation to write!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just happy to be here!
Warning: I do not have a beta, so all grammar, spelling and punctuation mistakes are mine. Apologies for any mistakes! I'll do my best to keep them to a miminum... I mean minimum!
Chapter 2
A date flashed as images of King's Cross Station appeared on the screen: September 1, 1991. Harry, having just been dropped off by Vernon, was lost and confused because he had absolutely no idea where Platform 9 ¾ was. Worse, the memory confirmed Vernon laughing heavily as he walked away, leaving the boy alone. Harry heaved a sigh from the tips of his toes. After an embarrassing interaction with a police officer, Harry was finally guided through the barrier by Molly Weasley.
"Happy to help, dear," Molly called exasperatedly. "You're welcome to sit with one of my boys."
"Oh, thank you ma'am," Harry replied respectfully. "I'm actually going to meet someone on the train."
Daphne swore she heard people groaning around her in the great hall.
"Fred! George! If I get one letter from McGonagall this year!"
"Aww come on mother!" Fred, or George, called.
"We swear we'll be good! Weasley's honor!" George, or Fred assured.
"Merlin, save me," Molly grumbled. "And save poor Minerva."
Meanwhile, Harry made his way onto the train, found an empty compartment, and stowed his trunk and Hedwig. He immediately departed on a quest to find Daphne, his friend. He found her near the back of the train, sitting with another girl who appeared around the same age. She had brown eyes and brunette hair that was straightened and pulled into a ponytail. She was also chatting animatedly with Daphne, who was sitting straight and carried a neutral expression.
Remember to bow and kiss the knuckles. Bow and kiss. Bow and…
Harry's thoughts trailed off as he entered and found both girls looking at him.
"Hi there!" the animated girl stood. "First year?"
"Y-yes," Harry stammered. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
"The Harry Potter? I'm Tracey. Tracey Davis."
Harry nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Tracey. Hello, Daphne."
"Potter," Daphne extended her hand, and Harry performed the half bow and kiss as expected. Only this time, Daphne didn't smile. Harry wasn't sure why and couldn't hide the hurt from his eyes.
"You know Harry Potter?" Tracey questioned her friend incredulously.
"We met at Madam Malkin's," Daphne admitted.
"You never wrote," Harry said softly.
"You said you'd write Harry Potter?" Tracey deadpanned.
Daphne ignored her friend. "I was busy, Harry. I do apologize for failing to write."
"Oh, well that's okay," Harry shrugged. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Sure!" Tracey exclaimed, completely missing Daphne's attempts to get her to say no.
"Great! I'll go get my stuff!"
As Harry turned, the memory made sure to show Daphne whirl on Tracey. The train was still filling with students, so Harry didn't have much trouble gathering his trunk and Hedwig. When he returned, Daphne seemed agitated and Tracey, well, excited. As soon as he'd stowed his stuff, Tracey held out her hand. Harry bowed and kissed her knuckles, eliciting a giggle from the girl.
"What house do you think you'll be in, Harry?" Tracey questioned while bouncing in her seat.
"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Each house sounds appealing to me. I suppose I'll see where I get sorted."
"I thought you didn't know what the houses were?" Daphne questioned, an icy edge to her tone.
Harry flinched. "I didn't. But when I got home after Diagon Alley, I read all of my textbooks. I really enjoyed Hogwarts: A History. So now I understand the house system a bit better."
"You read all of your textbooks?" Tracey was amazed. "But Hogwarts: A History wasn't on our list?"
"Yes, I rather like reading," Harry affirmed. "It's something I don't get to do often, as I don't have many books. I was really glad to see how many we got for this year. Hagrid encouraged me to buy the history book, said it'd be an interesting read. He wasn't wrong."
"Well, you'll love your O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years then," Tracey giggled.
"Those are the tests that determine what careers we can take, right?" Harry questioned.
"Yes," Daphne replied lazily, but with the same frosty tone.
"What about you, Tracey? What house do you think you'll be in? I know Daphne said she'd be a Slytherin or Ravenclaw."
"Oh, I don't think I could be a Slytherin, being a half-blood and all," Tracey admitted. "Although I do have plenty of ambition and cunning, so you never know. I'm going to say Slytherin even though the odds are stacked against me."
"Maybe we'll be in Slytherin together then," Harry mused.
Daphne scoffed.
"Did I do something to upset you, Daphne?" Harry asked, confusion evident.
"No," Daphne growled.
Harry was clearly bewildered, he appeared to be about to speak once more when the compartment door opened and a red-haired gangly boy stood at the entrance.
"Is Harry Potter here?"
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry waved.
"Really?" The boy appeared skeptical.
"You barge in here and ask, then challenge when he says who he is?" Daphne glared.
"Well, a lot of people could claim that," the boy defended. "What's wrong with wanting proof?" He turned to Harry, "Do you have the scar?"
Harry lifted his hair, showing the lightning bolt scar that he'd learned, from his books, Voldemort had given him the night he killed his parents. It still didn't sit well with Harry, reading about himself in textbooks.
"Whoa," Tracey whispered.
"Wicked." The boy agreed. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley."
"Hi, Ron," Harry shook Ron's hand. "Your mum was a big help to me."
"Yeah, mum's great," Ron slunk onto the seat next to Harry.
"Okay so let's backtrack," Tracey spoke up. "You read all of your textbooks. Like every single one?"
"Who, me?" Ron looked taken aback. "Absolutely not! What nutter would do that?"
"Me," Harry admitted sheepishly.
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "All of them?"
"All of them," Harry confirmed. "I really liked the Magical Drafts and Potions book. It paired nicely with One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Makes sense when you consider those plants are primarily used in Potions."
"Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Tracey questioned.
Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his hair nervously. Normally, this amount of attention meant pain.
"Ron," Harry tried to divert the attention. "What house will you be in?"
"Gryffindor!" Ron stated proudly. "Family tradition. I won't break it."
Daphne was staring at Harry curiously. The admission to having read all of his textbooks clearly intrigued her, but the stare made Harry uncomfortable. He was thankful that the trolley came by, offering sweets. Harry bought four of everything, happily paying and sharing with the compartment. Ron thanked him heavily and tucked in, as did Tracey. Daphne bought a couple of chocolate frogs for herself, but flatly refused to take anything Harry had purchased.
Older Daphne felt lower and lower with every minute.
Morgana's tits! She swore internally. What the hell am I doing?! Why did I shun him so heavily? He had been nothing but friendly! I know for a fact I wasn't on my period that day. I didn't start until second year. So, what the hell is wrong with me? We weren't even sorted! Why am I being such a bitch?!
Her musings were interrupted as Draco appeared on screen with his two gorillas, or more like chimpanzees at their age.
"I've heard Harry Potter is in this compartment," Draco said importantly.
"Yeah, he's here," Ron scowled.
Draco sniffed. "Dirt on your nose, hand-me-down robes, red hair," he drawled. "A Weasley."
"What's wrong with being a Weasley?" Harry questioned.
Draco's eyes narrowed. "You're Harry Potter?"
"Yes, he is," Tracey assured.
"I didn't ask you, mudblood," Draco sneered. Ron was on his feet, wand in hand, but Harry appeared confused. Tracey looked affronted, but unsurprised. It was Daphne who quelled the tension.
"Draco," she called frostily. "Calling my friend that is not nice."
"Greengrass?" Draco just caught sight of Daphne. "What are you doing here with a Weasel and Harry Potter?"
"Daphne's my friend," Harry responded, missing Daphne visibly flinch.
Draco snorted. "Whatever, Potter. Listen, you're going to need someone to guide you through the hierarchy of this world. I can be that someone, and can help you determine those above," he eyed Daphne, "and below your status." He pointedly looked at Ron and Tracey as he spoke this. Ron bristled and Tracey looked hurt.
"I'm good, thanks," Harry responded coldly. "I'm pretty sure I can make character judgements for myself."
Draco eyed Harry for several moments before sniffing loudly and turning on his heel, leaving the four with his chimpanzees in tow.
Ron was breathing heavily, red-faced, and Tracey was choking back angry tears. Harry exhaled slowly, and asked the question his books hadn't answered. "What's a mudblood?"
"Me," Tracey said miserably. "It means half-blood, or muggle-born."
"It's a really nasty thing to say," Ron affirmed. "Even if it's true. My mum and dad say there's no merit to any of the blood purity nonsense."
I suppose Slytherin won't be the place for me. Harry thought. I have no interest in being in a house with that ponce, Malfoy. Hopefully Tracey will go anywhere but. She's really cool, and polite, and has been very welcoming. I wish I knew what was wrong with Daphne. Maybe I should have complimented her when I first found her? I definitely need some kind of book that explains customs of pure-bloods, since it's important to her. Don't want to offend my friend.
"I'm really sorry, Tracey," Harry said after several minutes with his thoughts. Tracey looked at him curiously.
"What for?"
"I don't think I want to be in Slytherin anymore," he admitted. "I'd rather not share a house with that Malfoy guy."
"Damn Malfoy," Tracey mumbled while Ron cackled. Daphne appeared aloof.
"Also, it wouldn't do me much good since I'm a half-blood myself," Harry shrugged. "My mum was muggle-born."
"You wouldn't want to go to Slytherin anyway, mate," Ron informed. "All dark Wizards and Witches come from that house."
Daphne sneered. "You would think that."
"But it's true!" Ron protested.
Daphne shook her head in annoyance.
"I doubt that's true," Harry agreed with Daphne. "In Hogwarts: A History it clearly shows that's not the case. Also, magic is really more about intent than anything. It's not quite accurate to classify spells as Light or Dark."
Daphne appeared impressed, as did Tracey. Ron was skeptical.
"Oh, really?" He challenged.
"Sure," Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Take the cutting curse for example. You can use it to hurt someone, right?"
"Yeah?" Ron agreed.
"But you can also use it to cut limbs off of trees, or ropes, or hedges, right?"
Ron sat in thought. Tracey nodded.
"So you see, it's how you use the spell that determines if it's good or bad. Intent."
"And how did you come to that conclusion, being muggle-raised?" Daphne spoke up.
"It's in A Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling," Harry informed. "Made sense to me when I read it."
"Mental, mate," Ron shook his head. "Mental. Who goes and reads every textbook before term starts?"
"I'm sure there are others who have," Harry frowned.
"I'd take that bet," Tracey giggled.
The screen faded to black for a moment, and the ire of the gathered students, staff and reporters was split between Draco and Daphne. Tracey Davis, who was sitting on the far end of the table away from everyone, kept her head down. She didn't want any accolades for the small joy she gave Harry that day. As soon as she'd been sorted into Slytherin she pointedly ignored him. No good came from being friends with a Gryffindor as a Slytherin, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Morgana help me, Daphne Greengrass!" Astoria shouted at the ceiling.
The images returned and Harry was being sorted, the hat dropped on his head and covering his eyes.
Interesting! Very interesting! The hat spoke in Harry's mind. A Potter! But so different than your father. There's loyalty to be shared for those select few you call friend. And knowledge! A thirst for it. And no shortage of bravery. Ambition as well, and a thirst to prove yourself.
Hello, Mister Hat! Harry thought.
So what to do with you, Mister Potter? What to do… Hufflepuff is out, you have traits far more aligned with the other three. Ravenclaw would be an obvious choice, but I find your bravery and loyalty outweighs your hunger for knowledge. The only thing eclipsing those is your desire to prove yourself. Slytherin or Gryffindor it should be.
No! Not Slytherin! Harry pleaded.
Not Slytherin you say? Why not? You would be great there.
That git Malfoy is there. And I'm a half-blood.
Bah, Slytherin would turn in his grave if he knew how far his noble house has fallen. Pure-blood ideology has been warped so horribly. You could turn it on its head.
But would I make friends? Harry questioned. That's what I really want. I'm tired of being alone and hurt.
Hmm… Yes. That's a fair point, Mister Potter. You would be unlikely to form lasting bonds in Slytherin.
I do have one friend there, Harry protested.
So you say. Since it's not Slytherin, then it better be GRYFFINDOR!
The screen faded to black and there was a large amount of murmuring at the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle actually moved away from Malfoy seeing all the glares being sent his way. No honor amongst gits, it would seem.
The next images to display were of Harry's first Potions class with Snape. Of all classes he'd gone to, this one was his most anticipated.
Potions with Slytherins! Harry thought as he and Ron made their way down to the dungeons. This is fantastic! Maybe I'll get to partner with Daphne! That would be awesome!
Of course, it was not awesome, as Daphne immediately took a seat with Tracey, leaving Harry with Ron. Harry watched Snape go through his impressive introduction, while taking thorough notes, before being called out for not paying attention. He looked up in confusion, taken aback by the palpable hatred emanating from his Professor.
"Potter! Our resident celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added a powder root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry thought for a moment. "The Draught of Living Death, Sir."
"Where would you find me a bezoar?"
"The stomach of a goat, or your potion kit, Sir."
"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same, Professor."
"What potion begins with an Ashwinder egg?"
What? Ashwinder egg? There's no potion in the textbooks that has that ingredient.
"I don't know, Professor."
"You don't…know…" Snape drawled.
"It's not a fair question, Professor," Harry rebutted. "Our textbooks don't have a potion that mentions that ingredient."
"Clearly your arrogance is unparalleled, Potter," Snape scowled. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek."
Harry was incensed. "What?! I'm telling you the truth!"
"Silence! Another five points for talking back!"
Harry bit his tongue but was seething at the injustice of it all.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "It seems you do have some level of intelligence, minute it may be."
Draco was doing a poor job of stifling his laughs. Snape smirked.
Harry sighed. "Please, Professor. Can you show me where in our textbook the answer is?"
Snape ignored Harry and waved his wand, instructions flashed across the blackboard.
"Professor," Harry tried again through gritted teeth. "Can you at least answer the question you posed?"
"You have forty-five minutes, begin," Snape called, not gracing Harry with another glance.
What the hell did I do?! Harry raged internally. The screen changed to first person perspective and found Harry staring at his shaking hands. Oddly, his vision obfuscated with a red haze briefly before he got it under control and was able to see clearly once more. I know for a fact there's no potion in the textbook with that ingredient! But by God I'll figure out which one it is and rub his ugly mug in it!
McGonagall looked apoplectic as the screen transitioned. Snape pointedly avoided her gaze. Dumbledore was visibly disappointed.
No other initial lessons were shown, although Harry did find the answer (Felix Felicis) in the library after a week of thorough research. It was in a sixth-year potion book. He presented it during the next Potions lesson only to be mocked and lose another twenty points. Harry gave up afterwards, and decided that Potions, while fascinating, was his least favorite subject so long as the bat was teaching it.
Harry's first flying lesson drew fond memories for McGonagall as she watched Harry defend Neville. The challenge from Malfoy to duel, where he didn't show, came as no surprise to most in the great hall although it did lead to Harry's initial encounter with Fluffy.
October 18, 1991, flashed across the screen. Harry walked alone down a hallway until he heard raised voices from a closed classroom. One was female and sounded distressed. He hurried forward but stopped outside the door.
"Come on Greengrass," Draco drawled. "There's no reason you're not on my arm already."
"Get your gorillas off of me, Malfoy!" Daphne shouted. "I'd rather lose my magic than be on your arm!"
"Is that so? Then maybe I need to teach you a lesson in respect!"
Daphne screamed and Harry wasted no time in bursting through the door, casting a Jelly-Legs jinx at Crabbe and catching him completely off-guard. Goyle let go of Daphne, who kneed him in the groin, toppling him. She yelped when Draco grabbed her hair and jerked her head, his wand at her throat.
"Potter!" He sneered. "Fancy seeing you here!"
"Leave her alone, Malfoy," Harry commanded.
"No, I don't think I will," Draco purposely inhaled her hair, making Daphne flinch.
What's the plan? Harry asked himself. I don't want to hit Daphne with a spell. Attacking is probably not wise. What about the first principle of Alchemy: Equal Exchange?
"A deal then," Harry offered, causing Draco to almost release Daphne in surprise. "Me for her."
"You're serious?" Draco questioned.
"Yes," Harry said confidently. "On my honor. Release Daphne and leave her alone, and I'll take her place."
"It's your lucky day, Princess," Draco laughed, letting go of Daphne and shoving her into Harry's arms. He caught and steadied her, briefly looking her over for injuries.
"I don't need your help!" Daphne snarled at Harry.
"But you have it, Daphne," Harry returned, and his emerald eyes flashed. "You're my friend. This is the least I can do. Now run along."
"Very well," Daphne held her head up. "I'll go pen a letter to my father. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear how the Malfoy scion has treated me this evening."
Draco paled. His color returned, however, when Daphne left, shutting the door behind her. "You're going to pay for interfering, Potter," he promised as Goyle and Crabbe stood. The beating Harry took was brutal. It took an hour to limp to the hospital wing because he was constantly leaning on the wall for support.
Madam Pomfrey was not impressed.
"You fell," she deadpanned.
"Yes ma'am," Harry nodded wearily.
"And the past history of broken bones and dislocated shoulders?"
"Fell down stairs when I was younger. I'm a clumsy child, ma'am."
"Hmph. I've healed the cuts and bruises, but you'll need a couple potions for the fractures you've sustained. You'll be here for two days, so it's a good thing it's the weekend. Should have you ready for class Monday."
"Thank you, ma'am," Harry responded respectfully. "I don't suppose you have a book or two I could read while I'm here?"
The two days flashed by in almost a fast-forward. Only Ron stopped by on Saturday morning to check on Harry. He didn't come back. Daphne never came to see her friend. The screen faded to black.
"YOU BITCH!" Astoria shouted before being overtaken by a fit of coughing that knocked her to the floor, blood pouring from her mouth. Her eyes were swollen and red, snot dripped from her nose and mixed with the blood running down her jaw. She'd been crying since the memories began. "Are you fucking kidding, Daphne?! You couldn't be bothered to see him after he did that for you?!"
Daphne was speechless and hung her head in shame. She knew it was only going to get worse.
"Who…" Astoria hiccupped with sobs. "Who…A-Are…You?" She looked up at Daphne with sorrow. "A-Are y-you…really…" She coughed brutally, gagging on the blood. "That… callous?" Pomfrey came over and helped Astoria back to her seat. The girl was pale as death and sweating profusely, her breathing ragged. Pomfrey opened her medicine bag and unshrunk a blood-replenishing potion which Astoria shakily downed.
"You need to calm down, dear," Pomfrey soothed. "You've lost way too much blood."
"I can't be calm!" Astoria snapped, glaring at Daphne. "Not while watching that viper ruin my best friend!"
The screen showed October 21, 1991. Harry was free of the hospital wing and on his way to Charms. After class, he held back to speak with Professor Flitwick.
"Professor," Harry began. "Is there any chance I could take on extra-credit or have you give me additional lessons?"
"Whatever for, Mister Potter?" Flitwick questioned. "You were the first today to master Wingardium Leviosa?"
"Actually, Sir," Harry paused. "I was thinking more along the lines of dueling advice."
"Preparing for any fights, Mister Potter?" the Half-Goblin raised an eyebrow.
Only if someone threatens Daphne again…
"No, Sir," Harry assured. "Just want to be able to defend myself. This is all new to me, and knowing would be nice."
"Indeed," Flitwick studied his student for a moment, making Harry uncomfortable. He nodded. "You've certainly got a nose for choosing the right instructor. May I ask, why me?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I just had a feeling you were the Professor to ask."
"I was a champion duelist in my time, world ranked also," Flitwick chuckled. "Sometimes our gut can be great guides. I'll give you some pointers and we can set up a weekly session for you, if you'd like."
"That would be wonderful, Professor!" Harry exclaimed. "Do you have any books you could suggest as well?"
"I do," Flitwick nodded. "Dueling Practices for one. It will cover the basic spells, stances, and terminology you'll need to know and understand. The other is a case study that I wrote for my Charms Mastery. The Correlation of Physicality and Magical Capability. I have a copy of it, give me just a moment."
Flitwick ruffled around his desk and pulled out a stack of parchment. He grabbed a blank sheet and wrote two hurried notes, tearing the parchment in half to split them. Harry took the offered documents.
"You have my case study, a note for Madam Pince to issue you the book from the library. The other note is an excuse for your tardiness for your next class."
"Thank you so much, Professor," Harry smiled.
"It's a great pleasure to have a student so eager to learn, Mister Potter! Let's get together in this classroom Friday at 4pm. We can plan additional lessons then."
"I'm looking forward to it, Sir."
Later that night, Harry found an abandoned classroom on the third floor where he began practicing the initial spells from the book he checked out from the library. His face was set in grim determination as he worked on the spells over and over until he was shaking from the magical exertion. Right before curfew, he staggered back to the Gryffindor common room and collapsed on his bed. This became routine every night for the rest of term.
The case study from Flitwick was filled with large words that were hard for Harry to comprehend, but he did his best and, with the help of a dictionary, was able to understand that there was a clear connection between healthy magical reserves and physical fitness. Translated: Exercise equals heightened magical capabilities. Harry determined to ask about this on Friday.
When Harry met with Flitwick that Friday, the Professor was thrilled with how easily Harry seemed to learn and was quick to praise. They began basic dueling techniques and Harry managed to convince the Professor to give him two sessions a week for the rest of term. Additionally, Flitwick was thoroughly impressed with Harry's interpretation of his case study and confirmed its accuracy. A training regimen was quickly written out for Harry to follow.
That was the hardest to pursue, as Harry was rarely given an opportunity to be physical at home. He did his best, and took to morning jogs, the first few did not go well and ended with him dry heaving on the ground, his body screaming at him to stop. Flitwick assured him it would get better over time, so Harry persisted on time the thought to quit flashed in his mind, which was often, Harry would think about Daphne and grit his teeth and gut it out.
October 31, 1991 arrived, and Harry was sitting in the great hall looking for Daphne, who was, for some odd reason, missing from her table. The feast was preparing to begin, and Harry, concerned, made his way over to Tracey Davis, who hadn't really spoken to him since she was sorted into Slytherin. She'd still smile at him on occasion, but Harry felt it was insincere.
"Tracey?" Harry asked, startling the girl.
"H-Harry?" She stammered.
"Where's Daphne?"
"She was headed to the dungeons, last I saw her," Tracey shrugged. "She got a letter from her parents. I think her sister might be sick again."
Daphne has a sister? And she's sick? Again?
"I didn't know she had a sister," Harry mumbled.
"Oh," Tracey appeared alarmed. "Hey, listen. Can you please not let her know you know?"
Harry was now confused. "Why?"
"Just. Don't. Okay?" Tracey nervously fidgeted. "Daphne doesn't share stuff like that and she'd be cross with me if she found out I did without her permission."
Harry opened his mouth to reply when Quirrell burst into the great hall screaming something about Trolls and dungeons before collapsing dramatically on the floor.
Trolls? Dungeons? How? The wards of Hogwarts won't let dark creatures like that in unless invited. Who would have invited a… He gasped and grabbed his chest. His heart throbbed painfully. Dungeons! Troll! Daphne!
Harry bolted, ignoring Tracey calling his name. He slipped through the great hall doors just before they closed and sprinted toward the dungeons, suddenly very grateful for his daily jogs. His mind was racing.
If it's a mountain troll, then they are spell resistant. Anything I use will just irritate it. But I'll use that as a distraction. Trolls aren't very bright according to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Once I have its attention Daphne can run.
A female scream caused his vision to obfuscate with the red haze that he'd only had one other time. He didn't fight it. Rounding a corner, he saw Daphne backing away from a hulking mountain troll wielding a large club. It moved to swing, and in a last burst of speed, Harry tackled Daphne to the ground, the club collided with the corridor wall, missing them both by inches.
Harry rolled to his feet, wand in hand, and started casting a rapid fire of minor jinxes and hexes, meant to irritate and distract. The speed at which he moved caused many watching to gasp in surprise. The troll's backswing narrowly missed Harry as he leaned away while simultaneously shouting at Daphne to run. The girl was frozen by fear, however, and sat rooted on the floor.
Harry dove toward her, half-picking her up and half-throwing her to her feet. The club smashed to the ground where she had been seconds ago. The troll swung out with his hand, catching Harry in the chest and hurling him into the wall. He felt something in his spine snap, followed quickly by his head colliding with the wall. He felt something warm and sticky dripping down his neck and the walls started spinning. Harry felt very sleepy all of a sudden.
Daphne screamed. The red haze deepened as Harry watched the troll lift its club once more. He stubbornly shook off the sleepiness, ignoring the spinning walls, and cast a Wingardium Leviosa on the club. The troll swung down, the club no longer in its hand, and clocked itself in the groin. It groaned and doubled over. Harry released the spell once the club had ascended as high as possible. It fell with a resounding crack! on the troll's skull and the beast fell to the ground. Whether knocked out or dead, Harry didn't know, or care. The red haze began to clear, and Harry's vision began tunneling.
She's safe, he thought wearily. My friend is safe.
He staggered over to Daphne, who was breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face. She looked at Harry in horror.
"You okay?" He mumble-questioned.
"Y-yes," Daphne stammered and looked at him with concern. "H-Harry?"
He waved off the question. "Mm oshay," he slurred. "Roomsh shpinnin' tho…"
The last thing Harry saw was Daphne moving to catch him before darkness embraced him.
Harry awoke briefly around midnight in the hospital wing. He heard voices he identified as Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore.
"Albus, I'm telling you; his pain tolerance is not natural!"
"Poppy, are you sure you're not exaggerating?"
"Three broken discs in his spine, Albus," Pomfrey retorted angrily. "The pain alone should have prevented him from moving. Miss Greengrass was adamant that he kept fighting after being backhanded into the wall by that beast. Frankly, I can't fathom how he maintained consciousness. He suffered a major concussion on top of the bone damage."
"Perhaps the concussion numbed his ability to feel pain?" Albus offered thoughtfully.
"Nonsense!" Harry heard a sloshing sound. "Do you know what this is, Albus?"
"Skele-grow."
"And I'm sure you're aware that, on the pain scale, this potion is considered slightly less painful than the Cruciatus Curse!"
"Your point, Poppy?" Albus sighed.
"My point," Pomfrey spat, "Is that Potter said he felt a, and I quote, 'tingling in his back', when it began to settle in. I'm normally forced to give patients a dreamless sleep draught just to get them to lie still when they drink this potion! Now, correlate that with the various scars, history of broken bones and dislocated shoulders…"
"Poppy," Albus interjected. "I don't like where this is going."
"Well I should hope not!" Pomfrey hissed. "Have you looked into his home life, Albus?"
"I shall endeavor to do so this summer," Albus promised.
There was a knock on the door before it opened.
"Miss Greengrass," Albus greeted. "You're not supposed to be out after curfew."
"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Daphne said softly. "I just wanted to check on Harry."
"He's asleep, dear," Pomfrey said warmly. "You can have five minutes and then you'll need to go back to your dorm."
"Yes, ma'am."
Harry wanted to open his eyes but found that he couldn't. The smell of strawberries and lemons assaulted his nose as Daphne took a seat next to his bed and gently pat his arm. At least that's he thought she did, seeing as how his body was still tingling from the Skele-grow potion.
He felt movement on the bed and Daphne's breath was ghosting his ear as she whispered.
"Thank you, Harry. You saved my life."
You're my friend, Daphne, Harry attempted to say, but could only think.
She sat with him for a few moments longer before sighing and departing, leaving Harry alone once more. The gesture was lovely, however, and Harry was thrilled to note her smell lingered in the air for the rest of the night.
I'm so thankful she's okay. It was really nice of her to check on me. I've been so worried I've upset her. I should get her a Christmas gift.
With that thought, a happy Harry drifted off to sleep.
The screen faded to black once more and Daphne stiffened at the last thought displayed. Astoria was going to kill her.
November 18, 1991 flashed on the screen to find Harry flipping through a jewelry catalogue an older Gryffindor girl had let him borrow. He found a goblin-silver charm bracelet that he thought was nice and a charm in the shape of a daphne flower with a sapphire center.
The sapphire matches her eyes. Harry thought.
He'd been disappointed to find Dahpne still distant and cold toward him after the troll incident, but assumed she was struggling with whatever sickness her sister had. He didn't want to bring it up out of respect for Tracey.
Harry ordered the bracelet and charm and set down to pen a letter he would send with the gift on Christmas. The cost of the gift never registered with him. What did galleons matter when shopping for your friend?
Dear Daphne,
Happy Christmas! I saw this bracelet and charm and immediately thought of you. I'm so thankful you're my friend and hope you have a wonderful time with your family. By the way, when is your birthday, and is there anything you would like for it?
Your friend,
Harry
The screen shimmered and suddenly an odd sound echoed in the great hall: laughter. Shrill laughter, that sounded both agonized and enraged. Every eye turned as Astoria Greengrass got to her feet and marched over to her sister.
SLAP!
Daphne didn't bother stopping the blow. Her head turned from the force of it, an ugly welt already forming as Astoria stood there shaking.
"This bracelet?" Astoria held up her left hand where the very same bracelet Harry had just shown rested, the daphne charm also present, among others. "This bracelet you gave me that Christmas?"
Sounds of sharp intakes of breath could be heard across several tables.
"The bracelet that you said you got me because you thought of me, and the daphne charm would be a way to remind me of you?" Astoria asked.
Daphne was unable to look at her sister and instead stared over her shoulder.
"LOOK AT ME!"
She flinched and turned to meet Astoria's blue eyes, just like hers.
"Every. Charm." Astoria hissed. "Harrybought them, didn't he?"
Daphne bit her bottom lip and nodded, silent tears spilling down her cheeks.
"For you," Astoria said hollowly.
Daphne looked down, and her hair spilled forward to cover her face in a golden curtain.
Astoria sighed heavily, choking back a cough. "I…I can't even look at you right now, Daph."
December 25, 1991, appeared on the screen. Harry awoke on Christmas day to find Ron shredding paper as quickly as he could.
"Morning, mate! Happy Christmas!" Ron called.
"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry replied.
"You've got presents, by the way!"
Harry froze.
Presents, for me? On Christmas? I've never gotten a present before.
He looked at the foot of his bed to find three gifts. Harry opened them reverently. The first, from Ron, contained a box of chocolate frogs. The second, from Hagrid, were some cauldron cakes and a well-wishes card. The third was unlabeled and contained a cloak with a note from the giver that encouraged him to use it well and assured him it was his father's.
"That's an invisibility cloak!" Ron cried when Harry put it on.
Oddly, it only seemed to work for Harry. The only time it worked for Ron was if he shared it with Harry. They both talked eagerly about adventures they could go on after-hours. Harry quickly determined he would go visit the restricted section of the library, having wanted to find new subjects to study since his nightly practice sessions were bearing fruit. He was consistently top spot in all his classes, except potions because of Snape being a git.
Harry looked under his bed and the covers for a moment, causing Ron to scrunch his face at him in confusion.
"Lost something, mate?"
"Huh?" Harry paused. "Oh, I was just checking to make sure I didn't miss any other gifts."
"Well, you got one from Hagrid, me, and a mystery gift. Expecting any from anyone else?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess not."
Maybe the cloak was from Daphne? Harry mused. Unlikely, because her mother was friends with my mom. I don't see why my dad would give them his cloak. No. Maybe she just couldn't think of anything to get me. It's not like we know each other that well… He trailed off for a moment in his thoughts. What does it matter if she gets me something? We're friends. She's my first friend. That's gift enough to last me a lifetime.
That night, Harry made his way to the restricted section and found two books of great interest. One pertained to runes and how they could be applied to simulate spells. The other applied to wards and their various functions. Figuring it would be great to study, Harry pocketed them both but tripped on his cloak, knocking a book that had given him the willies off the shelf. It let out an unholy scream which caused Harry to rush away. The light from Filch's lantern appeared down a hallway, and Harry heard the caretaker hollering at Professor Snape that a student was out of bed.
Not wanting further encounters with the Professor that harbored a special hatred for him, Harry entered an abandoned classroom and gently shut the door behind him, huddling in a corner under his cloak and praying no one would find him. He waited a good fifteen minutes, only the sound of his breathing keeping him company, before he chanced a look around the dust-riddled classroom. In the corner stood a tall mirror which Harry felt an odd pull to look at.
He approached to see an inscription atop it. Quickly deciphering it, he whispered, "I show not your face but your heart's desire."
Intrigued, he stood before it and stared. Briefly, it showed himself standing next to Daphne. The reflection caused Harry to look to his side in surprise, only Daphne wasn't there. The mirror shimmered and suddenly Harry saw his parents. He knew it had to be them. The woman had his eyes, and the man looked like an older version of himself. He swallowed and reached forward, but the mirror shimmered once more.
Now there were four, no, five, people in the reflection. His parents were still there, but he also stood there. What was odd, however, was he was older. Around the same age as his dad. And there was a woman standing next to him, smiling. She had golden blonde hair, and striking sapphire eyes that pierced his soul. He knew, without a doubt, that it was an older Daphne.
His breathing hitched when he examined the fifth person, currently hiding behind his reflection's legs. She was little, maybe three or four, and was a clone of older Daphne in every way except her eyes. She had Harry's eyes. And she was smiling mischievously at Harry. He stared, devoid of thought, for what felt like years, until he felt something wet hit his hand.
Startled from his reverie, he looked down to see a droplet of water on his wrist. He raised his hand to his cheek to find he had tears running down his face. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd cried.
I show you your heart's desire, Harry thought. Family. That's my desire. No surprise there. It always has been.
The little girl giggled and waved at him. His heart throbbed painfully, and he unconsciously grabbed his chest.
She's gorgeous. I hope to God this is a vision of my future. Because I want that little girl in my life. My daughter. Harry shook his head. No. Our daughter.
Harry made his way back to the mirror every night until December 27, 1991, when he met Dumbledore in the same room.
"Harry my boy," Dumbledore appeared amused. "I see you are making good use of that cloak."
"You gave it to me?" Harry asked in surprise.
"Yes, your father allowed me to examine it before he passed. I must say it is one of a kind."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Nothing to thank, Harry. It is your legacy, after all. But I suspect you have not come here to discuss the advantages of such a magnificent cloak."
"There's a mirror, Sir," Harry pointed and made his way over to it. "It shows you your heart's desire."
"Indeed, it does," Dumbledore nodded. "Tell me, Harry, what do you see when you look into it?"
"I see my family," Harry responded distractedly. "My mum, and my dad, and…" He trailed off.
"You see more than just your parents?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of surprise in his tone.
"Yes, Sir," Harry nodded. "I see my wife and my daughter."
Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "I was unaware you had such affections from any of our illustrious females, Harry."
"Well, I don't. Not really," Harry admitted. "I do have one female friend though."
"And she is who you see?"
"Yes."
"Curious," Dumbledore muttered.
"What do you see, Sir?"
"I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks," Dumbledore chuckled. "Of which I am woefully without."
This broke Harry's reverie, and when he turned to the Professor, he was quickly told that the Mirror of Erised would be leaving this room, and that Harry should no longer look for it. Apparently, many had wasted away staring into it, as it slowly sapped their magic. Harry understood and would respect the request, but it hurt him deeply to think he'd not get to see the face of that little girl again.
The image faded to black, and whispers broke throughout the great hall. The Mirror of Erised was known as a class five magical artifact, extremely dangerous. The fact that it was in the school and Harry interacted with it three times was subject for discussion. Glances were cast to several figures, namely Dumbledore and Daphne, although many looked over to find Astoria shaking her head, unable to provide an outburst this time.
Daphne was oblivious to it all. Tears tracked continually down her face and her mouth was agape as she attempted to fathom what she had just seen. Her heart ached when she thought about the little girl in that mirror. That beautiful, innocent, little girl who Harry identified as his daughter.
No. Daphne thought sadly. Our daughter. My daughter. And I've lost any chance I'll ever have of that. That beautiful, happy, little girl.
She thought of how she herself had looked. More mature and, if possible, even more beautiful than she was now. But more so was the smile she carried in the reflection. She knew that the Daphne in the reflection was happy. Happier than she could possibly imagine. Happy with her husband. Happy with their daughter.
Bitter regret overwhelmed Daphne, and she was unable to hold back a choking sob as it burst free, followed by hot tears. Daphne buried her face in her hands and wept, uncaring anymore of who saw or heard.