A/N: Howdy everyone! My extremely talented and supportive wife decided to do another illustration, this time of a scene from Chapter 6. It can be found on the HAPHNE discord in the #fanart channel. As always, thank you to those who review, favorite, follow and PM! See you next week!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just happy to be here!
Chapter 6
November 14, 1992, flashed on the screen. Miraculously, Harry had not been caught when Dobby snapped him into Daphne's chambers. The only change since that night, almost a week ago, was now the secret smiles Harry and Daphne shared in classes, hallways, or the great hall evoked a light blush for them both. Just yesterday, Harry and Daphne were passing each other in a hallway and managed to brush hands. Even the memory of it sent pleasant tingles down Harry's spine.
With the school in a constant state of fear with the attack on Creevey, Harry attacked his training regimen and personal studies with renewed vigor. He'd taken to moving with the hood of his cloak up even more frequently, preferring the solace of invisibility. His dedication to improvement had not gone unnoticed by Flitwick, who commented on it during their last session.
While Harry was doing his best to remain hidden in the shadows, another was doing the exact opposite: Draco Malfoy. He'd been pontificating all week about how the Heir of Slytherin was finally going to clean the filth from the schools. Harry had heard the word 'mudblood' more times than he cared for, and that temper Madam Rosmerta told him he inherited from his mother was reaching a boiling point.
Unfortunately, it peaked earlier in the afternoon. On the way to dinner, Harry stumbled across Draco and his cronies, who were more than pleased with Colin Creevey's petrification. Usually, Harry would ignore this. Draco, however, spotted Harry and decided to explain how even the so-called savior of the wizarding world was also a mudblood. He'd then made a particularly vicious insult to Harry's now deceased mother, and Harry had hexed Draco into next week.
Before an all-out brawl broke out, Professor Snape swept in like a bat. The greasy git ignored Harry's attempted explanations and asked Draco, a trustworthy source, to provide his account. Harry noticed Daphne standing nearby and shook his head with a sigh. He knew what was coming. Daphne, to her credit, moved to defend Harry when Snape rounded on him, but stopped when Harry caught her eyes with his own.
Snape gleefully issued detention to Harry, who was sort-of saved by an unlikely third party: Professor Lockhart. Snape, thinking this the worst kind of punishment one could inflict, happily transferred the responsibility, and Lockhart cheerfully clapped Harry on the shoulder while telling him to meet later tonight in his office.
Harry flinched under the touch of the Professor and looked over to see Daphne biting her lower lip. A sudden urge to hug her or hold her hand nearly overwhelmed him; but instead, he grit his teeth, squared his shoulders, and marched into the great hall. He did manage to sneak her a tiny, pained, smile, which displayed more as a grimace, before he left.
"Harry, Harry, Harry. Can you possibly imagine a better way to serve detention than by helping me to answer my fan mail?" Lockhart beamed down at him, as the two sat in his office with stacks upon stacks of letters and envelopes around them.
"You respond to every single one of these, Sir?" Harry asked in bewilderment.
"Indeed I do, Harry," Lockhart sent that unsettling smile once more toward Harry.
Harry felt his skin crawl.
"Now, I'll do the responses, obviously," Lockhart informed. "You will address the envelopes and seal them. The list of addresses should be on your desk."
Harry nodded and set to work. It was mind-numbing, and Harry found his thoughts drifting to a certain golden blonde-haired witch. Hours later, his hand spasmed as he wrote, and his quill snapped, ruining his current envelope.
Damn Cruciatus curse, Harry thought. Still can't stop that from happening sometimes. It's worse when it happens in duels with Professor Flitwick.
He set his quill down for a moment and rubbed his eyes with trembling hands, the beginning of a headache coming on. There was a pressure on the backside of his skull causing the dull ache. Harry rubbed there vigorously and shook his head. He turned to glance at Professor Lockhart and was surprised by the intense stare he received.
Lockhart blinked, and Harry's imagination ran wild as he thought he caught a hint of red in the irises of the fraud.
"Everything alright, Harry?" Lockhart grinned.
"Yeah," Harry rubbed his eyes.
"Good Lord, look at the time!" Lockhart exclaimed. "Spooky how time flies when one's having fun."
Harry noted they'd been at it for four hours. He sighed at the lost time and forced himself to stand. He'd been pushing far harder recently than he'd realized, and his body was feeling it.
My head too, apparently, Harry thought.
"Now remember, Harry," Lockhart clapped Harry's shoulder and opened his office door to let Harry free.
Harry stiffened at the touch, shivered, and almost tripped in his haste to pull away.
"Fame is a fickle friend. Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that."
"Thanks," Harry replied hurriedly, feeling the pressure in the back of his head intensify. He wanted to get out of the office and away from Lockhart. The man unsettled him something fierce. Not quite like Vernon, who inspired fear and loathing. No, this was a different feeling. Something…Creepy.
Harry didn't look back as he bolted from the office, returning to the solace of his invisibility cloak shortly after. His headache didn't depart until breakfast the next day.
November 25, 1992, flashed across the screen. Harry was sitting in DADA doing his best to hide the overwhelming giddiness flowing through his body. Normally, a double period of DADA with Slytherin and the phony Lockhart would result in Harry spending time revising homework from other classes or reading the third-year elective books.
Today, however, Lockhart had partnered each Gryffindor with a Slytherin in an attempt to promote inter-house relations. Harry, thanking Merlin for his luck, was partnered with Daphne Greengrass for the day. They currently sat shoulder to shoulder at their desk, both flushed and listening as Lockhart explained the intricacies of the Expelliarmus charm and how he used it to devastating effect against a Vampire.
Harry was only half-listening while Lockhart recounted a tale from Voyages with Vampires when he felt pressure on the right side of his skull. He winced and closed his eyes. He felt a small hand touch his left elbow.
"Harry?" Daphne whispered. "Are you okay?"
Harry grit his teeth as his head throbbed once more, painfully, and then returned to a dull ache; Daphne's touch helped distract him from the pain.
"Y-yeah," He managed to hiss. "Just a headache."
Lockhart finished giving them a questionable demonstration of the charm before instructing them to practice with their partner. Harry and Daphne moved to a corner of the room where Harry once again appreciated how beautiful Daphne was. She looked over at Lockhart in confusion as he demonstrated the wand motion.
"I don't think that's the right motion," she muttered, frowning.
"It's not," Harry supplied, breathing a sigh of relief as his headache finally receded.
Daphne turned to him expectantly.
"Watch," Harry instructed, and with a flick of his wrist and a soft, Expelliarmus!, Daphne's wand flew into his waiting hand.
"Whoa," Daphne whispered, staring at her now empty hand. "First try? That's very impressive, Harry."
He smiled genuinely at her and shook his head, handing her wand back.
"I've actually been able to do this spell since last year," he informed sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head.
"What? How?" Daphne's eyes narrowed.
Harry looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
"Private lessons with Flitwick," he whispered.
"And what do you do in these lessons?" Daphne asked, looking slightly put-out.
"We, uh," Harry paused momentarily before shrugging. "We duel mostly."
"You do realize that Flitwick is a former three-time dueling champion of Britain?" Daphne deadpanned.
"Yeah, he might have mentioned that a couple of times," Harry replied.
Daphne appeared to want to ask more questions, but Lockhart had begun doing rounds so she hesitated.
"Show me again," she commanded.
"Sure," Harry demonstrated once more, but mid-cast his wand hand spasmed and his aim was off, the red bolt of light hitting the wall behind Daphne.
Daphne blinked as Harry swore softly.
"What happened?" She asked in confusion.
"Sorry," Harry hissed as he willed his hands to stop shaking.
"Harry," Daphne grabbed his hands. "Why are your hands shaking?"
He paled and a cold sweat started on his forehead. Daphne's expression softened and she squeezed his hands.
"It's okay," she soothed. "You can trust me, Harry. I won't hurt you."
Harry swallowed. "It… It's because of the Cruciatus curse."
Daphne inhaled sharply.
"When? Who?" She questioned swiftly.
"Last June, Voldemort…" Harry trailed off.
"June?" Daphne murmured to herself. "But why are you still experiencing aftereffects?"
"Pomfrey says it's because of the stress my body is under," Harry shrugged as if it didn't matter.
Daphne's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Harry," she hissed. "What is going on?"
"Not here, Daph," Harry sighed. "Later. If we can find the time."
Daphne huffed and nodded. Harry knew she wasn't mad at him. She was mad for him.
"You're going to tell me, Harry," she said in a tone that brooked no debate.
"Yes ma'am."
The two spent the rest of the class with Harry teaching Daphne how to do the spell. When she finally got it and disarmed him a radiant smile appeared on her face and, momentarily losing herself, she hugged Harry fiercely. He didn't flinch and enjoyed it for as long as was proper before Daphne realized her predicament and pulled away, blushing heavily. She mumbled her thanks, knowing she would have to answer for her action later.
Thankfully, Lockhart stepped in and praised the two for being able to successfully cast the disarming charm. Harry was then requested to demonstrate to the others, which he did reluctantly, not liking the attention. The happy memory of Daphne hugging him, however, allowed him to ignore the nerves of addressing his peers. He was relieved his headache didn't reappear for the rest of the class.
As the screen faded to black, Astoria turned to Daphne who was opening and closing her mouth without a sound. It would have been funny to tease her about looking like a fish, but the pale skin and watery eyes caused Astoria to pause. She called out to her older sister several times, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"Daffy!" Astoria said harshly, finally getting her sister to look at her. "What's wrong?"
Daphne started shaking, choking back harsh sobs. When she spoke, Astoria could tell Daphne was holding back a flood of emotions.
"Tori," she whispered so softly that Astoria almost missed it. "I'm scared."
Astoria didn't know what to do with that admission. So, she leaned forward and pulled Daphne into a hug. The dam holding back the emotions burst, and Daphne started sobbing uncontrollably. It was several minutes before Daphne could speak, and when she did it was with a ragged voice.
"I remember that class," Daphne revealed. "But not how Harry does."
Astoria let out a wet-sounding cough. "What?"
"In that class, I was partnered with Harry, but he didn't teach me. He humiliated me and gloated about it. All I remember is thinking he was arrogant, attention seeking, and believed in his greatness far more than he should."
Astoria frowned as her sister continued to cry softly in her arms. That description sounded oddly specific. Her eyes scanned the Slytherin table and caught Draco Malfoy staring at her. Their eyes met. Draco grinned evilly and winked.
I'm going to kill that fucking ferret, Astoria thought grimly. If he did anything to Daphne, there won't be enough of him left to identify once I'm done.
Daphne stiffened and Astoria knew Daphne realized who else spoke like that about Harry Potter. Normally, she would expect the Ice Queen to show up and hex her offenders into oblivion. Instead, Daphne trembled and clutched her sister like a lifeline.
"Tori, I'm really scared," Daphne repeated weakly.
December 7, 1992, flashed on the screen. Harry was standing in a crowd of other students for the first session of the recently approved and announced Dueling Club. Sadly, Harry's hopes were dashed against the stones when he saw their instructors: Lockhart and Snape. Harry was sure that Flitwick would have been here, due to his pedigree.
What a waste, Harry thought as he watched Lockhart get blasted off the stage by Snape. Although it is entertaining to watch him fumble about. Wouldn't mind seeing Snape get blasted either.
Something pressed into his hand. He flinched, turning to find no one nearby. Harry frowned and looked down to see a strip of folded parchment with a short message.
Meet tomorrow. 8pm. Third floor, abandoned hallway, second door on right.
-D
Harry was so distracted by the note that he almost missed Lockhart espousing how Harry had mastered the disarming charm and could demonstrate for them all. Of course, Snape offered Draco Malfoy as a suitable opponent. Sighing, Harry took his place and quickly disarmed Draco in the first round. Malfoy looked about to rage when Snape grabbed his shoulder and whispered in his ear, quickly causing the ponce to grin deviously.
Naturally, Draco jumped the count and used a spell Harry hadn't seen before. The cobra that appeared on stage gave Harry pause and, before he could react, Lockhart stepped forward and hit the reptile with an unknown spell that served no purpose other than to enrage the creature.
Hissing and spitting, it reared up and prepared to strike a Hufflepuff by the name of Justin Finch-Fletchley. It stopped only when Harry commanded it to, uncaring that every face in the great hall now turned to him, many with mouths agape.
As you command, Speaker, the cobra inclined its head.
Thank you, Harry replied, also bowing his head.
The cobra began to slither toward Harry when Snape intervened and dispelled it, staring at Harry with more surprise than loathing for once. Harry finally noticed every eye on him.
Shit, he thought. Forgot talking to snakes is considered a bad thing. What was it called again? Parselmouth?
"What the hell, Potter?!" Justin shouted before storming off.
The great hall broke into whispers and murmurs and eventually a single phrase began to circulate.
"Heir of Slytherin!"
Harry grimaced, did his best to ignore the shocked expression Daphne wore, and turned on his heel and left. The crowd parted with ease, people wanting to give him a wide berth. Harry exited the great hall, rounded a corner, and pulled the hood up on his cloak.
He had a feeling he would be invisible even more often than not moving forward.
December 8, 1992, flashed on the screen. Harry was walking to the great hall after his last class had let out. The opportunity to go invisible was still waiting to present itself, since the hall was littered with students. Harry had gotten used to the whispers and stares as he went about his business, and pointedly did his best to ignore them all.
Suddenly, he stiffened.
Rip! Kill! Tear!
The voice sounded distressed and pained. Harry, without a thought, bolted in the direction he heard it, hurtling up stairs and around corners. Entering a corridor, Harry stopped short, breathing heavily. Unmoving and floating was the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, and below him, Justin Finch-Fletchley.
"Caught you red-handed!" Peeves hollered before cackling and pointing at Harry. "Naughty, naughty, Potty!"
Harry flinched and went to draw his hood up when he heard a shout that made him freeze.
"Potter!" McGonagall called, walking up and observing the scene. Her lips drew in so much they disappeared.
Harry was acutely aware of the whispers and murmurings of those around him.
"Come with me," McGonagall commanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him off. Harry flinched at the touch and gently pulled his arm free, following the Deputy Headmistress.
"Lemon Drop," McGonagall said as they arrived on the seventh floor and stood outside a gargoyle statue.
The statue turned and revealed a spiral staircase which they began climbing until they entered the headmaster's office.
"Wait here, Potter," McGonagall said before departing to find the headmaster.
Harry swallowed and looked around, his eyes glancing over the silver instruments which whirred and spun at varying speeds. He longed to inspect the bookshelf near the desk but held back. His eyes caught a flicker of red and gold and he heard an odd chirruping sound.
Harry approached the sound and saw a magnificent bird perched on a gnarled stand which had a tray of ashes below it. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the bird met his gaze with its own.
A phoenix, Harry thought, recognizing the bird from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
"You're gorgeous," Harry whispered to the bird.
The phoenix preened.
Harry reached out but hesitated. "Can- Can I pet you?"
The bird inclined its head.
Harry tentatively stroked the plumage of the phoenix, marveling at the magic he could feel crackling around and through the creature. Something felt off, however, and Harry frowned, thinking about what he'd read. Realization struck him.
"Is today a burning day?"
The bird chirped.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" Harry apologized. "Don't let me hold you up."
The phoenix stared at Harry for several moments before gently nipping at his fingers. Harry resumed petting him for another minute before another chirp caused him to stop. There was a bright flash of white light and Harry squinted against it. Then, it burst into flames, vanishing into the ash pile.
Harry gently leaned over the tray and sifted the ashes until he saw the baby phoenix looking up at him. Somehow, Harry knew it was a male.
"Don't worry, buddy," Harry smiled. "You're still gorgeous."
He reached down and picked up the baby phoenix, allowing it to nip at his finger playfully while it flapped its tiny wings. Harry sat down in a nearby chair with the phoenix in his palm. Dumbledore found him there minutes later.
"Ah! I see you've met Fawkes!" Dumbledore said warmly, taking a seat at his desk.
"Yes, Sir," Harry nodded. "It was his burning day, and I told him to not let me hold him up."
"About time," Dumbledore chuckled. "He's looked dreadful these last few days."
"He's gorgeous," Harry mumbled, still looking at the bird in his palm. "Fawkes, huh?"
Fawkes chirruped happily.
"I didn't petrify anyone," Harry said absently. "I'm not the Heir of Slytherin."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Dumbledore spoke, steepling his hands and staring at Harry curiously. "It was an unfortunate coincidence that had you placed at the scene before they were discovered. Nevertheless, I must ask you, Harry. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
Harry turned to catch Dumbledore's eyes. "No, Sir."
"Very well," Dumbledore inclined his head. "You may go, Harry."
Harry nodded and stood. He reverently placed Fawkes back in the ashes, giving the bird a final gentle poke.
"See you later, buddy," Harry smiled down at it. "Don't be a stranger."
Fawkes protested Harry's departure quite raucously. Harry paused at the door before turning to face Dumbledore.
"Professor?"
"Yes, my boy?"
"Did anyone die when the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago?"
There was a long pause. Harry stared at the door, his posture rigid.
"There is no evidence the Chamber has ever been opened, my boy," Dumbledore replied carefully. "But students have, sadly, perished within these walls in the past."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor. Good night."
And he left without waiting for Dumbledore to reply. It was time to meet Daphne.
Harry entered the specified classroom exactly at 8pm, still invisible. He saw Daphne jump as he opened the door, and quickly pulled his hood down. He closed the door and cast a privacy ward and locking charm which he reinforced with a rune cluster on the door. He figured the reinforcement would keep anyone below sixth year out.
He had barely finished when he felt Daphne tackle-hug him, knocking him back against the wall. He held her for several minutes, reveling in how right it felt to have her in his arms. He basked in how well her body melded with his own, how wonderful she smelled, and the feelings just her touch could elicit.
Reluctantly, he allowed Daphne to pull away. She looked at him with watery eyes.
"I know you didn't do it," she said huskily. "I know you're not the Heir of Slytherin."
Harry felt a weight he didn't know he was carrying lift from his chest and took a stuttering breath.
"Thanks," he replied weakly. "I- I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that."
She smiled toothlessly at him, a single tear escaping. Harry brushed it away without thinking, gently cupping her cheek.
"Harry," Daphne swallowed. "What happened last summer?"
In response, he grabbed her hand and led her to the back wall where he sat down with her. He didn't release her hand and she threaded her fingers through his. They sat shoulder to shoulder for what felt like hours before Harry took a deep breath and began explaining what happened last year with Quirrell, who turned out to be Voldemort. He wasn't sure when, but at some point, he started crying. Daphne joined him shortly after.
When he spoke about the Cruciatus curse and how weak he felt facing Voldemort, Daphne held him tightly while running a hand through his hair.
"That's why I've been training with Flitwick," Harry said hoarsely. "But I'm so tired, Daph. So, so tired. Pomfrey says I need to rest and stop pushing myself, but I can't."
He shuddered violently.
"Voldemort batted everything I threw at him away as if it were nothing," Harry whispered in a haunted voice. "I have to be better. I know he'll come for me again."
Harry sobbed heavily. "And now everyone thinks I'm the fucking Heir of Slytherin just because I'm a Parselmouth!"
"You're not the Heir, Harry," Daphne assured him while gently rocking back and forth.
"The hat was right," Harry choked out. "I should have been a Slytherin."
"It told you that?" Daphne asked in surprise.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, it wanted to put me there. But I told it I wanted to make friends, and it seemed to agree that Slytherin wasn't the house for that."
She froze in shock. His next admission shattered her composure.
"I don't want to be alone anymore."
"Oh, Harry!" Daphne cried, clutching him to her. "You're not alone! I'm here, Harry."
Harry clung to her like a drowning man to a buoy; years of pain and hurt pouring out through his tears as his body convulsed with the force of the sobs.
"I can't lose you, Daph," Harry choked out.
"You won't," Daphne assured soothingly through her own tears. "I'm safe, Harry. You'll protect me. I'm your friend, right?"
He nodded.
"And you're my friend, Harry," Daphne whispered. "I won't leave you. I won't hurt you."
Harry was exhausted and his body spasmed sporadically. The stress began rolling off him in waves and his body started to shut down with it. His eyes became bleary as he looked up at Daphne's tear-streaked face. Somehow, she looked even more radiant than normal.
"Dobby," Daphne called.
The house-elf appeared with a small pop!. He looked subdued and anxious. Daphne breathed a sigh of relief.
"Dobby is here, Miss Daffy," Dobby said nervously.
"I know you want to protect Harry and-" She paused. "And me."
Dobby nodded, pulling his ears.
"Harry is very tired, Dobby," Daphne said in a watery voice. "Please, just for tonight, can you help him sleep? He desperately…"
Harry didn't hear the rest. He was too drained, and Daphne was too warm. He fell asleep in her arms.
Late that night, Harry awoke briefly in his bed. The curtains were drawn, and he felt something or someone running a hand through his hair. He stiffened before his other senses caught up and strawberries and lemons wafted in the air.
"Daph," Harry mumbled, relaxing.
"Hush, Harry," Daphne whispered. "I'm here. Go to sleep."
He closed his eyes and fell back asleep, a small smile on his face.
In the great hall, Daphne felt sick. Watching her younger self interact with Harry caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. She broke down when he said he didn't want to be alone anymore. Astoria held her through it all.
I've been robbed, Daphne thought morosely. Someone robbed me of those precious memories. And by proxy, they robbed me of Harry's affection.
She clenched her hands so hard she thought her fingers would break. Tears rained from her eyes.
And I did the opposite of what I promised him. I did leave him.
The last thought caused Daphne to break down so badly that Madam Pomfrey forced her to take a calming draught.
I did hurt him.
December 25, 1992, appeared on the screen. Harry was sitting on his bed without a present to open. He didn't mind nor expect any different, and so busied himself with researching the Chamber of Secrets and its monster. He'd already sent Daphne's gift off with Hedwig, a goblin-silver Knight Bus charm with citrine headlights.
Dobby had flatly refused any gifts from Harry, stating, quite adamantly, that he could not accept clothes while he was in service to another house. Although he did wail and shout about the greatness of Sir Harry Potter for several minutes before popping off to do, well, whatever it was he did. Harry decided he'd save the multi-colored socks he'd bought the elf for a rainy day.
Nearly all students had gone home for the Christmas break, especially with the supposed 'Heir of Slytherin' staying behind. Before the evening feast, Harry had a breakthrough. He was reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to learn more about Fawkes when he came across the passage about basilisks.
"While unproven, it is my personal belief that an indirect gaze into a basilisk's eyes will not kill but will cause petrification. Sadly, there is no way to validate this theory," Harry read softly to himself.
So that's it then, a basilisk, Harry thought. Makes sense. Salazar Slytherin was known for being associated with snakes as well as a known Parselmouth. Why wouldn't the monster hidden within the Chamber be a basilisk?
Harry gulped.
But that means it's over one thousand years old.
He pondered whom he could tell, but he kept coming back to the same phrase.
"King of the Serpents," Harry muttered.
Fuck. No one is going to believe I'm not the Heir of Slytherin when I reveal what is petrifying people.
Harry tapped his chin in thought. He gasped and stood, causing his book to tumble to the floor.
There's another Parselmouth in the castle! It's the only way to control the basilisk.
The realization caused Harry to sit back on his bed limply.
Great. Now I have two new objectives. Find out what happened fifty years ago and figure out who the other Parselmouth is.
January 15, 1993, appeared on the screen. It was late night, and Harry was working on the later third-year DADA spells from his book. Sweat ran in great rivulets down his face and body. Thoughts of Daphne pressed him to do more. To not stop. He smiled despite the stitch in his side.
Daphne had been getting bolder lately. Just yesterday she had hung back after DADA and dragged him into a hidden alcove where she tried to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Harry didn't care and returned with his own bear hug. Daphne held him until the last possible second before they guaranteed being late to their next classes. Harry, being bold, kissed her on the cheek before they rushed off, both sporting heavy blushes.
Exhausted, Harry began making his way back to his dorm. He wasn't three steps out from the classroom he used when he caught a small black book lying on the ground. A quick inspection revealed it to be blank. Shrugging, Harry pocketed it and continued back to his dorm.
After a late shower, Harry sat in bed and thumbed through the book. It looked like it'd be a good diary. Harry had never thought to write in a diary. He yawned and placed the diary on his nightstand before going to sleep.
The following day, Harry wrote in the book for the first time. When it wrote back, he had an interesting discussion before he realized the book was almost fifty years old. When he asked about the Chamber of Secrets, the book offered to 'show' him what happened.
Well, that was different, Harry thought as he returned from... Whatever or wherever he just was.
He now had two very important details to mull over. Firstly, Hagrid was innocent, and the creature shown by Tom Riddle was an Acromantula. No way those could petrify people. Second, someone had died that year, which meant Harry now had an origin point to research. He determined it was best not to write in the diary further. For some reason, the book gave off an ominous, but familiar, feeling.
The next day, January 17, 1993, the diary was gone. Nothing else was taken, just the diary which Harry had left on his nightstand. This gave him pause, as now he had to assume that the Parselmouth he was looking for was in his own house.
February 14, 1993, arrived and Harry was still enduring the whispers and murmurings of his fellow students. Draco had continued to deride him but was adamant that there was no way the 'Mudblood Scarhead' could possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. Nonetheless, Harry kept to his invisibility cloak as often as possible, preferring to travel in the shadows.
When he entered the great hall that morning, he found it gaudily decorated with pink banners and red hearts. Apparently, in an effort to raise morale, Lockhart convinced the staff to allow him to decorate, and hired a group of dwarves, dressed as cupids, that could be used to receive and deliver Valentines throughout the school. Those poor dwarves.
Harry tactfully chose to not engage in such a ridiculous service, and instead, first thing that morning, sent a rose and an anonymous note to Daphne via a school owl (Hedwig was not pleased). He watched as she opened it with a small blush, smelled the rose and pocketed the note. She placed the rose in her hair above her ear and wore it the rest of the day. Harry was rewarded with a dazzling smile from her whenever she thought it safe to give.
Harry too received a Valentine well-wish from Daphne, delivered by school owl. He opened it and felt his heart flutter in his chest as he read:
Happy Valentine's Day, Harry
Your friend and valentine,
-D
Harry spent the rest of that morning with a stupid grin on his face. Not even Snape's class could wipe it off. On his way to Charms, however, he was accosted by one of the dreaded cupids. After a futile struggle, the little demon was perched upon Harry's ankles reading the most ridiculous poem Harry had ever heard.
And, of course, Draco Malfoy was right there to hear it from start to finish. Harry wasn't bothered when they laughed at him or mocked the poem. But when Malfoy realized it was Ginny who sent it, based on her reaction, and doubled down, Harry stepped up to defend the poor girl who was redder than a tomato.
Wands were drawn, Harry swiftly relieved Malfoy of his, and Snape intervened, happy to assign detention and take points from Harry. Lockhart appeared and managed to get Harry out of detention. Sadly, the points remained lost. Harry left with a splitting headache and the fleeting thought that he'd seen a hint of red in Lockhart's irises once more.
In the great hall, Astoria looked to Daphne who shook her head and bit her lower lip.
Of course, I wouldn't remember getting a Valentine from Harry, she thought sadly. It's amazing how happy I look in these memories. Is this really how he has always seen me?
She shivered with dread.
Morgana save me. How will he see me later on?
March 12, 1993, flashed on the screen. It was a terrible day for Harry. The only person who was able to prove his innocence was Professor Flitwick, whom he'd spent the day with dueling. When news of another attack, which hadn't occurred in months, echoed through the castle, all fingers pointed to one Harry Potter.
Flitwick defended him vehemently, and by some small miracle Harry was not expelled or arrested. For the first time in fifty years, another student had died at Hogwarts. Harry didn't know her well, only by reputation of being wicked smart and a bossy know-it-all. She was a muggle-born Ravenclaw named Hermione Granger.
Hagrid was arrested and charged with the murder and sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore was sacked the same day. McGonagall took up the position. A speech was given, in the great hall, by a stout man with a green bowler hat who turned out to be the Minister of Magic. He assured everyone the school was safe now and the culprit had been apprehended. Harry wondered if the response would have been different had a pureblood been killed.
Harry spent the rest of his days working himself to exhaustion every day, even weekends. If he wasn't exercising, training or studying he was in the library looking for articles fifty years ago. With Hagrid being apprehended, Harry was able to narrow his search even more. On May 27, 1993, Harry finally had a breakthrough late that night and found a newspaper clipping which specified a student named Myrtle had been killed and Hagrid was expelled since insufficient evidence was available to prosecute.
It was too late to alert anyone, so Harry returned to his dorm and assured himself that he would alert McGonagall as soon as possible. He sunk into his bed, bone weary, and promptly passed out.
May 28, 1993, flashed across the screen. Harry was walking to McGonagall's office to tell her what he'd learned and suspected. Raised voices drew his attention, and he made his way to a nearby closed door that he knew was currently an unused classroom.
"Don't come any closer!" A female voice shouted. Harry tensed as he recognized it as Daphne.
"Give it up, Greengrass," the slow drawl of Malfoy responded. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You've been making googly eyes at Potter for months. It's disgusting that a Pureblood Princess such as yourself would stoop so low as to interact with a mudblood like Potter."
Daphne scoffed. "Who I associate with is none of your damn business, Malfoy."
Malfoy tutted. "Language, Greengrass. Who knew such a beautiful pureblood had such a foul mouth?"
"Stay back!" Daphne shouted in a strained voice.
Harry tensed.
"Not to worry, Greengrass," Malfoy and others chuckled grimly. "We just want to talk."
There was a bright blue flash behind the door, and Malfoy yelped.
"Stupid bitch!" Malfoy shouted. "How dare you strike me!"
There was a slapping sound, and something smacked the stone floor.
Harry attempted to open the door, but it was sealed. He tried Alohomora to no effect.
"You're going to pay for this, Greengrass!" Malfoy yelled. "Clearly you need a stronger lesson in respect!"
Daphne screamed in panic and Harry heard another slap. Harry saw red. Blood red. He snapped his wand forward and the door exploded into the room from the force of his magic. He had forgotten to will his cloak to stick and the concussion from his spell blew his hood off, causing him to be visible.
Months of training with Flitwick, along with self-study, had heightened Harry's battle senses. One aspect of training with Flitwick (that Harry appreciated) was that the half-goblin didn't teach him how to duel. No, dueling was for tournaments with rules. Flitwick was teaching Harry how to fight. There were no rules in a fight. Well, there was one, and the voice of Flitwick echoed briefly in Harry's mind as he took in the scene before him.
Mister Potter, there is one rule I encourage you to follow when in a fight. Use whatever means necessary to achieve this rule because you can be assured your enemy will.
Be the last one standing.
Daphne was looking at him with a mixture of hope and terror. An ugly bruise already prominent on her right cheek. Her left eye was swelling shut. She was on the ground surrounded by Malfoy and four others Harry recognized as Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini. Draco was bent over, a block of ice around his groin.
Crabbe and Goyle were fumbling for their wands. Nott had a look of shock on his face. Zabini was dangerous, he had a wand pointed at Daphne. Harry moved automatically. His first Expelliarmus caught Zabini in the chest, ripping the wand from the dark-skinned boy's hand. Harry ignored it, allowing it to sail over his shoulder.
A Depulso sent Malfoy across the room and into the far wall with bone-breaking force. Nott cast a tripping jinx which Harry sidestepped easily, returning with a Stupefy that had the boy crashing face-first into the stone, instantly breaking his nose.
Zabini scrambled for Nott's wand while Harry dodged a series of hexes and jinxes from Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was struggling to his feet. An opening presented itself with the two gorillas, and Harry felled one with another Stupefy before sending a cutting curse at Malfoy who was just back on his feet.
Whether it was fortunate would be debatable, but Harry's wand hand spasmed and the cutting curse went high, right above Malfoy's head. The ponce nearly pissed himself when he saw the aftereffects. The bonebreaker curse Harry sent next was on target and shattered Malfoy's wand hand.
Harry was drained. The bonebreaker was a new, fourth-year, spell he'd recently practiced. Sweat poured from his body as he faced off against Goyle and Zabini, who was re-armed. Harry continued to duck and dodge several spells but was slowing as he tired. Finally, another opening presented itself and Goyle went down to a Stupefy.
Zabini got a Depulso off that hit Harry square in the chest and sent him crunching into a wall. Daphne screamed and Harry felt his world spinning. It was Daphne who struck Zabini in the back with an Expelliarmus, disarming him. Harry used the last of his magic to Stupefy the boy.
Harry staggered forward, chest heaving. He was finding it hard to breathe. Daphne was at his side, hugging him and sobbing.
"Thank you!" She hiccupped, kissing his cheek. "Thank you!"
"You're safe," Harry breathed wearily before inspecting Daphne's injuries.
She winced when his fingers grazed her cheek.
"Who?"
She looked at Malfoy, who was moaning in pain, cradling his hand, and trembled. Harry released her and walked over to Malfoy who screamed in terror when he saw Harry approaching. Harry grabbed the git by the front of his robes and drove his fist straight into the ugly ponce's nose. The satisfaction of hearing Malfoy's nose crunch only inspired Harry to do it more.
In the heat of satisfying vengeance, Harry missed Daphne's yell. It wasn't until he felt a firm hand grab him by the collar and jerk him away that he noticed she was calling him. Snape stood over him, apoplectic.
"Potter!" He sneered in rage. "Attacking my snakes?! And a woman no less!"
"NO!" Daphne screamed, outraged. "He saved me!"
"Silence!" Snape barked, breathing heavily. He reached down and grabbed Harry by the arm. Unable to help himself, Harry flinched and squirmed.
"STOP!" Daphne shouted. "He doesn't like to be touched!"
"What's all this then?" A new, cheerful, voice intervened.
"This doesn't concern you, Lockhart!"
"Harry, my boy," Lockhart chided. "In trouble once again, I see. This certainly isn't the way to increase your renown!"
Snape's eye twitched.
"I blame myself," Lockhart sighed. "Gave him too many bouts of wisdom. Poor boy has gone and mixed them up."
"Gilderoy," Snape spat. "Would you please escort Miss Greengrass to the hospital wing while I sort this mess?"
Lockhart blanched and then quickly recovered. "Y-Yes, of course."
Daphne protested and tried to run to Harry, but Snape stunned her before she could. Harry wanted to fight back, but was barely standing on his feet, and he was having a hard time breathing. Snape quickly delivered Harry to McGonagall's office, his original destination, and explained, briefly, what he'd come across to the woman with obvious bias. He left to tend the others while Harry stared down his head of house who looked infuriated.
So infuriated, in fact, that she didn't notice the thin line of blood tricking down Harry's chin. Harry couldn't understand what she was saying, as each breath was becoming harder than the next.
Why do I taste blood? He thought groggily.
Then he knew no more.
The screen faded and Daphne shot out of her bed, wand in hand, ready to exact extreme vengeance, despite the fact she had no memory of what she'd just witnessed. All she knew was that it was finally time to vent the hurricane of emotion raging within. She stopped in shock, however, as five red bolts were fired from the staff desk into the Slytherin table.
Three from Flitwick, two from McGonagall.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini fell from their seats to the floor.
"In all my years!" McGonagall was trembling with rage.
"Minerva," Dumbledore cautioned.
"DO NOT, ALBUS!" McGonagall shouted.
"I agree with Minerva," Flitwick stood and waved his wand.
The five stunned boys had ropes conjured around them and they were levitated behind the staff table in the far corner from Daphne and Astoria.
"Miss Greengrass," Flitwick addressed Daphne. "I take it you want to press charges?"
Daphne hesitated but eventually nodded.
"You don't remember the incident, do you, Miss Greengrass?" McGonagall questioned.
Daphne shook her head, too stunned to speak.
"That will be handled," Flitwick assured.
Dumbledore moved to speak once more, but hushed when he noted that, outside of Severus, the staff table stood united with Minerva and Filius. The usual twinkle in his eye vanished briefly before he exhaled and nodded in agreement with the two.
Daphne returned to the bed next to Astoria, who was coughing lightly.
"I'm sorry, Daph," Astoria said, giving her older sister a hug.
"We have to figure out who did this to me, Tori," Daphne replied with a hint of desperation in her tone. "I was attacked, and the person who obliviated me knew it."
Tori nodded. "We will, Daph. I promise."
"I feel like shite, Tori," Daphne said hollowly. "He saved me, again, and I don't remember it. I-" She choked on a sob.
"Oh, Daph," Astoria sighed and held her sister.
"Daphne," Madam Pomfrey came over. "Would you like another calming draught?"
"Madam Pomfrey," Daphne looked at the healer with haunted eyes. "Does the Obliviate spell also modify emotions?"
Pomfrey frowned. "Are you speaking regarding the memories Harry is displaying?"
"Yes," Daphne nodded. "Even if I don't remember what he's showing, shouldn't I still feel affection for him?"
"I'm not a Mind Healer," Pomfrey reminded. "But, in theory, yes, your emotions should be unaffected."
Daphne went white as a sheet and started shaking.
"Tori," Daphne gasped. "I think someone did more than obliviate me."
Astoria stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"When I think of Harry, all I feel is annoyance, irritation, and hatred."
Madam Pomfrey looked shocked. When Daphne saw her expression, she wailed.
May 29, 1993, flashed on the screen. Harry awoke in the hospital wing to find Madam Pomfrey standing over him and waving her wand.
"Don't move," she instructed. "You punctured a lung when two of your ribs broke. I've regrown the bones, but your lung is still healing. No activity for the day, understood?"
Harry groaned and nodded, looking down at his bare chest which was peppered with ugly purple bruises.
"Can't heal those until your lung is repaired," Pomfrey informed.
Harry exhaled and nodded. He was going to ask about Daphne when Pomfrey forced him to drink a potion which immediately sent him into a restless sleep.
He awoke a couple hours later to voices.
"What are we going to do, Poppy?" A voice that sounded like Professor Sprout questioned.
"I don't know, Pomona. With Albus gone, we need to evacuate the school."
"I still need a couple of days for the mandrakes," Sprout replied.
"It just doesn't make sense," Pomfrey lowered her voice. "Isn't the Heir of Slytherin supposed to be after non purebloods? If so, why would they take two purebloods to the Chamber?"
"Were you informed of who was taken?" Sprout questioned.
Harry could hear Pomfrey nod. "It's simply terrible. Those poor girls. Their parents are already on the way here."
He wanted to shout, scream, and beg them to tell him who. The sinking pit in his stomach kept growing. It felt like an eternity of silence. Finally, Sprout spoke.
"Yes, I imagine Molly Weasley will raise hell when she gets here. Not that I'd blame her."
"It's Cyrus Greengrass I'm more worried about," Pomfrey hissed. "You know he sits on the Board of Governors. Someone is going to Azkaban over this."
Harry felt sick. A single name echoed repeatedly in his head.
Daphne!