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"Chocolate Frog," Harry said in front of the Gargoyle statue, which promptly shifted aside to let him pass. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door several times until Dumbledore's voice invited him in.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's voice echoed from within.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry asked politely as he stepped into the room.
Dumbledore's office was filled with curious objects and an air of wisdom. His long white beard flowed down like a river, framing his face with an aura of age and experience. His eyes held a twinkle of amusement and mystery.
"Ah, Harry, my boy. I'm glad you could make it. How's your day been?" Dumbledore asked, a kind smile playing on his lips.
"It's been alright, Professor. And you?" Harry replied, feeling a mix of respect and comfort in the presence of the venerable wizard.
"As well as can be expected at my age, my dear boy. The Ministry's matters never seem to rest," Dumbledore sighed with a touch of weariness.
"I heard they're trying to remove you as the Headmaster," Harry said, concern evident in his voice.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling. "Indeed, but it's not a straightforward endeavour. But let's not dwell on that. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"No, thank you, Professor," Harry declined with a small smile.
"Let's get to the point. Have you been having nightmares or visions of Voldemort?" Dumbledore's gaze turned serious, and Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"Yes, Professor. Why do you ask? Is there something significant about these dreams?" Harry inquired, trying to sound curious but hiding the true extent of his knowledge.
Despite the appearance he maintained, ever since the events that had merged his past and present selves, Harry hadn't experienced the usual nightly torment. It puzzled him – the absence of the nightmares he had grown accustomed to. He had honed his Occlumency skills, scrutinising his scar for any lingering traces of darkness, only to find it clear and serene. He had ventured to Regulus Black's room, where the Horcrux locket once exerted an almost irresistible pull. Strangely, that pull had weakened. Sirius' description of the foul odour and repugnant sensation from his scar had added to the puzzle. It all led to one unsettling conclusion – the fragment of Voldemort's soul in his scar had been removed during the temporal upheaval… Now he just had to keep the headmaster from realising it.
Dumbledore's voice brought him back to the present. "I can't say for certain, but it seems Voldemort is trying to gain a foothold in your mind."
Harry's heart raced. "Is there a way to stop it, Professor?" he asked, anxiety tinging his words.
Dumbledore's gaze softened, weariness and compassion intertwining as a gentle smile curved his lips. "I believe we can find a way, Harry. You're not alone in this. Professor Snape has agreed to this, and Sirius also supports this decision," Dumbledore disclosed, prompting a surprised pause from Harry. Evidently, Sirius had more invested in this than he had initially assumed.
"Professor Snape? Why would he agree? You're aware of his feelings towards me. Could you be the one to instruct me?" Harry's words flowed with a mixture of astonishment and scepticism, a hint of hope glimmering within.
Dumbledore shook his head with a touch of sorrow. "I'm afraid not, Harry. While I am skilled in certain aspects of the mind arts, Professor Snape possesses the requisite expertise for this task. My mind is too inquisitive to properly grasp the more eclectic aspects of blocking off one's mind. I'm sure there are rumours around the castle about me being able to read the minds of troublemakers, and while most of my intelligence gathering against Mr. and Mr. Weasley is through the ghosts and paintings, I do have quite the grasp on legilimency, the reading of the mind. Professor Snape, however, is one of the best practitioners of the mind arts in Britain. He is well-suited to guide you."
Suppressing his emotions, Harry tightened his grip on his own mind. "How long will this training last? And what exactly will I be learning from Snape?"
"Professor Snape will impart the knowledge of Occlumency to you. This skill is akin to a mental shield, guarding you against Voldemort's intrusions until you become proficient enough to subconsciously keep him out without effort," Dumbledore explained, his eyes holding a weighty understanding.
A hush draped the room, anticipation palpable in the silence. Dumbledore observed Harry, a sad smile accompanying his patient gaze, awaiting his decision.
Harry's thoughts whirred, grappling with the dilemma before him. The prospect of enduring Snape's mind-probing once more was unappealing – a single encounter had been excruciating enough. Moreover, allowing Snape access to his mind, including knowledge of the future, was far from desirable. However, it seemed that Harry's options were limited. Acceptance beckoned, accompanied by the arduous necessity of fortifying his Occlumency against Snape's incursions. While his mind and soul might bear the maturity borne from time travel, his body remained tethered to its age. He sighed, frustration tugging at him as he rubbed his face.
"Alright," he conceded, resolve clear in his voice. "But if I manage to grasp this quickly, I won't have to keep taking his lessons any longer, correct?"
"Yes, Harry, I'm sure that Professor Snape is equally not looking forward to your lessons either. He will communicate the schedule with you," Dumbledore affirmed, a grandfatherly warmth infusing his gaze, along with a mirthful understanding at Harry's concerns.
"If there's nothing else to discuss, I'll take my leave, Professor."
"Of course, Harry."
"Good night, Professor," Harry offered as he prepared to depart.
"Ah, Harry… One more thing," Dumbledore's voice called him back, prompting a quizzical frown. "I heard from Mr. Weasley that you defended yourself quite well at your trial. I regret my absence, as I suspect Fudge had somehow warded me out of the courtroom, but I am indeed proud of your accomplishment," Dumbledore acknowledged, catching Harry off guard.
"No need to worry, Professor. Thank you," Harry replied, a grateful smile gracing his lips. "Is there anything else?"
Dumbledore nodded, contentment evident. "That's all, Harry."
"Good night, Professor."
With that, Harry made his way toward the exit, thoughts churning as he navigated the path ahead.
Harry let out a wide yawn, his body stretching as he welcomed the early morning. Peering outside, he observed the still-dark sky, the sun yet to make its appearance. It had been a week since Harry had returned to the ancient, magical castle. A week since he resumed his routine training – a return he'd embraced with a profound sense of longing. The heaviness that had enveloped him due to everyone's reluctance to let him roam freely outside, even for a leisurely stroll near Grimmauld Place, had weighed on him.
Umbridge's actions and his conversation with Dumbledore had ignited an even stronger drive within Harry to rejuvenate his physical training. The Quidditch practices had lent some degree of conditioning, but it had left him wanting, but his years as an Auror had endowed him with substantial strength, yet his emaciated form, a testament to the scarcity of food, still hindered his true potential. His mastery over certain abilities had returned, such as Occlumency and Legilimency, referred to as the Mind Arts. However, other skills lingered at around 70%, a source of undeniable frustration. The desire for a full restoration, to have all his abilities at their zenith, gnawed at him. He held a hope that the entirety of his potential would be unlocked before winter breaks came.
The notion of time-travel summoned a faint recollection of one of his many dinners with Luna, a frequent guest at his and Daphne's flats – a cautionary quote about dangers befalling those who dared to tamper with time. The unique nature of their temporal journey blurred the lines between ordinary time-travel and their soul-transmigration. Luna had been on assignment for the Quibbler, looking into a similar sounding case to his own in Brazil where a rumoured time traveller had appeared walking into a muggle village near the edge of the jungle, raving about his future chakra eating his soul. In the end, it turned out to be a wizard working for Gringotts who had eaten the wrong mushrooms, but it made for a good conversation, even if he didn't quite understand the concepts she would talk about. And this sure as hell wasn't the sort of time travel he and Hermione had dabbled with to save Sirius or Buckbeak.
From what he could recall, it had seemed that their consciousness traversed, merging with their younger selves. Gratitude washed over Harry, knowing that they had not fused with foreign souls and had ended up like Quirrell… or worse. 'Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time,' he thought back to Hermione's words with a frown. 'Well, I'm not going to just sit around and do nothing, to change nothing. And I can't see how I could cause any paradoxes since I basically just took my own place. Still… I will try to be careful. Afterall, to save as many people as I can, Daph and I will have to plan carefully.'
His mind wandered towards Daphne, an ache of longing welling up for their joint exercise sessions. The secrecy that cloaked their relationship, however, confined him to solitary routines. A sigh of unspoken yearning escaped his lips, a poignant release of pent-up desire.
Donned in a tracksuit conjured from an oversized shirt, Harry's gaze flickered to his wardrobe, a wry twist shaping his mouth. Dudley's hand-me-downs still dominated his attire, their ill-fit a constant reminder of his past. Change was imperative – a shopping expedition was on the horizon.
Before embarking on his morning exercise, Harry ventured to the common room. His search for forms and shopping catalogues bore fruit – the forms for clothing orders nestled by the Gryffindor notice board. A triumphant smile graced his lips as he located the documents he sought.
Completing the forms with details of sizes and preferred colours, Harry's heart swelled with anticipation. He flipped through the menswear catalogue, tagging images of essential sportswear, loungewear, sleepwear, footwear, and outerwear. Satisfaction washed over him as he reviewed his selections. The documents, folded and tucked into an envelope alongside a handful of Galleons, and begin to turn to make the trip down to Hedwig, but he was pulled away from his thoughts by an announcement on the common room board.
The High Inquisitorial had commenced, and memories of previous detentions stirred within Harry as anger flowed through him, and he crumpled the announcement, casting it into the fireplace with a sense of finality.
As he strode out to the Owlery, Harry's attention was diverted by a nostalgic greeting. "Hey, girl! Miss me?" he crooned, his fingers brushing Hedwig's feathers. The snowy owl hooted in exuberant response, a bittersweet reunion that tugged at Harry's emotions, tears of joy mingled with the pecks Hedwig administered. "Could you deliver this letter, Hedwig? No need to wait for a response. Just come right back, alright?" he requested, securing the envelope to her leg. With a contented hoot, Hedwig took flight, vanishing into the horizon.
"Safe travels, Hedwig," Harry murmured, his gaze lingering as his owl disappeared from sight.
Harry resumed his journey, trekking towards the Black Lake's serene shores. It was there that his morning exercise routine would unfold, a solitary endeavour that invigorated both body and mind.
Sweating like a rookie flyer on a broken broomstick during a Quidditch match, Harry decided to call it quits on his morning exercise. Plopping down on a conveniently placed boulder, he conjured a stream of water with a muttered "Aguamenti." He didn't bother with fancy conjurations – who needs cups when magic can quench your thirst, right? The sun was slowly painting the sky blue as it rose, casting a serene atmosphere around him.
The notion of returning to the castle began to materialise when his attention was ensnared anew, drawn toward Hagrid's hut. The plume of smoke that had once wafted from its chimney had dissipated, an absence that spoke volumes of its vacancy. Harry's gaze fixated on the humble dwelling, his expression betraying a trace of wistfulness. A memory surged forth, a recollection of Hagrid's mission to the giants at Dumbledore's behest. The venture had yielded little success, leaving Hagrid to return alone. However, he hadn't returned unaccompanied – a half-brother remained concealed within the depths of the Forbidden Forest. With a dismissive shake of his head, Harry recommitted to his path toward the castle.
The common room was buzzing with early risers, and there was Hermione, tucked away in a corner, already engrossed in her reading. Her knitting needles were floating nearby, crafting little clothes for house-elves. Harry sighed and headed her way, catching her eye.
"Hey, Harry. Where've you been?" Hermione asked, closing her book with a curious look.
"Just a jog by the lake," Harry replied with a shrug. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, he added, "Oh, by the way, you finished that proposal?"
Hermione blinked, her confusion evident. "Proposal? What proposal?"
Harry wiped his sweaty brow with a wristband and clarified, "For the study group, Hermione."
Recognition flickered in her eyes. "Oh, right. That. Um, not yet."
Harry's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Well, you might want to get on that. I'm treating it like a serious project. We won't get anywhere without proper planning."
Before Hermione could respond, he continued, "I'm expecting it by the end of the week. And I mean detailed, Hermione. No skipping corners or leaving things out."
She looked a bit flustered but nodded. "Okay, I'll work on it."
Harry leaned in slightly, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "Remember, no secrets. This study group needs a solid foundation."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry wasn't done. "And, Hermione, maybe take a break from the knitting. Dobby's a great guy, but he might appreciate a little less work."
With a wink, Harry strolled away, leaving Hermione with a mix of annoyance and surprise on her face.
Professor Umbridge strode into the dungeon classroom, her toad-like features pinched in distaste. Her pink cardigan and matching ribbon in her hair were a stark contrast to the gloomy atmosphere of the dungeon. The students all straightened up in their seats as she made her way to the front, her eyes scanning the room with an unpleasant sneer.
"Good morning, Professor Snape," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "I'm here to conduct a routine inspection of your class."
Severus Snape's face was a mask of stone as he nodded stiffly. His black robes billowed behind him as he stepped aside to let her take her place at the front of the class.
The students exchanged nervous glances as Professor Umbridge began her inspection, scrutinising every inch of the dungeon.
She stopped at one table and peered over the shoulder of Dean Thomas, like a vulture examining a carcass. "Hmm, interesting," she said, her voice dripping with faux concern. "I'm not sure that's the correct ingredient for that potion. Are you sure you're teaching them properly, Professor Snape?"
Snape clenched his jaw, his black eyes gleaming with anger, but he didn't respond. He knew that any word he spoke could be twisted and used against him. He was a master of the Dark Arts, but even he knew better than to cross paths with the Ministry's enforcer.
As Umbridge continued her inspection, she made several more subtle jabs at Snape's teaching ability, like a cat toying with a mouse before pouncing.
"Severus, dear, I'm not sure if you're aware, but some of your students seem to be struggling. Perhaps it's time to reevaluate your teaching methods."
"I've always found it fascinating how some people can be so intelligent in one area, yet completely oblivious in others. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"
"I must say, Professor Snape, I do admire your dedication to your work. Even if it means neglecting your own personal hygiene."
With each snide comment, Snape remained silent as the grave as the toad of a woman stalked from student to student. His blood boiled, but he kept his expression carefully neutral, like a poker player holding a royal flush. He knew that Umbridge was trying to provoke him, to elicit a reaction that she could use against him. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
She paused at Neville Longbottom's cauldron, a look of disgust on her face.
"Mr. Longbottom, I must say I'm disappointed in your lack of progress," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I would have hoped that a wizard of your family lineage would be more proficient in third year basics."
Neville's face turned red with embarrassment as the other students looked away, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Harry Potter, however, could not resist.
Daphne couldn't help but feel a sense of worry as she looked over at Harry. She knew all too well the consequences of angering Umbridge, calling in her mind having to heal his hand after his detention, and the last thing she wanted was for Harry to get into trouble. As she watched him fixated on Professor Snape, she could see the familiar glint in his eye that signalled he was up to something. Caught his eye for a second and subtly shook her head, trying to warn him not to do anything that could get him into trouble, but Harry was too focused. Daphne bit her lip nervously, hoping that Harry would come out of this unscathed.
The words slithered from his lips like a venomous serpent, coiling and striking with deadly accuracy. "Professor Snape, would you mind going over the proper method for cleansing the bile from a toad? We only got halfway through that lesson last class." The smug grin on his face was as foul as the amphibian in the jar on his desk, and just as putrid. Umbridge turned to him, her eyes blazing with a fury that would have made the flames of Hell seem like a mere flicker.
Meanwhile, an odd look of strange surprise and appreciation graced Professor Snape's features as he looked over towards Harry. "Ah, the joys of toad cleansing," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly a highlight of any wizard's education. And what a particularly delightful specimen we have here, Potter. The stench alone is enough to make one retch."
Umbridge's lips tightened as she watched the exchange between Snape and the boy who lived. She despised them both with a passion that burned like fire in her belly. But she said nothing, knowing that the time to play her hand had not yet come.
Snape flicked his wand, and the blackboard came to life with a flurry of chalk, diagrams appearing like magic. He spoke with a quiet authority, as if he were discussing the weather or the latest Quidditch scores. He turned toward his desk, black robes billowing behind him. Upon arriving, he procured a jar from beneath his desk filled with green and slimy toads floating in a transparent yellow liquid.
"Toads are one of the more...unpleasant creatures in this lab," he continued. "But they do serve a purpose, albeit a small one. Now, to begin with, we must slice across the thorax and down the abdominal region to open a window into the slimy creature. Then with four precise slices," he reached over to and grabbed a knife, inspecting the razor sharp edge in the light of a candle, "remove the stomach, kidney, and liver. Then, to purge the bile, we must remove the gallbladder and wash it thoroughly in distilled water."
Umbridge felt sick to her stomach as she watched Snape's deft hands moving over the dead toad. The smell was overpowering, and she longed to be anywhere but here. But she forced herself to stay, knowing that this was actually part of her job.
"And finally," Snape said, his eyes glittering in the dim light, "we must collect the bile in the small crystal vials, and add the empty gallbladder into the formaldehyde and methanol for use in later lessons. They will be useful as we will be exploring the fascinating world of blood clotting poison and its antidote in the coming weeks. A delightful topic, I'm sure you'll agree, Professor." He turned, knife still in hand, to stare at the woman in pink. "You would be more than welcome in my classroom to assist with a... Demonstration. I am sure an educator of your calibre would be more than qualified."
Umbridge nodded, her throat tight with revulsion. "Speaking of blood, Professor Snape," she said, her eyes glinting with malice. "I must say I find it quite curious that a half-blood like yourself would teach at Hogwarts. It must be difficult for you, knowing that your father was a mere Muggle."
The room fell silent as death as everyone froze to turn and look at Snape. His face had gone even paler than usual, and his eyes were fixed on Umbridge with a dangerous intensity.
"I assure you, Professor Umbridge, my parentage has nothing to do with my ability to teach," he said, his voice low and deadly.
Umbridge seemed to relish the discomfort she was causing, a sickly smile on her face. "Oh, I'm sure it doesn't. But I can't help but wonder how your pureblood colleagues view you. Do they trust you? Do they respect you?"
Snape's nostrils flared as he took a step forward. "My colleagues know better than to question my loyalty or my abilities. And if you continue to question them, you will find yourself regretting it.
Umbridge's smile faded slightly, but she quickly recovered. "Very well, Professor Snape. I'll leave you to your class. But I'll be watching you."
As she swept out of the dungeon, the students let out a collective sigh of relief. Snape was still standing at the front of the room, his eyes fixed on the door. Harry could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. For a moment, the two of them locked eyes, and Harry saw something in Snape's gaze that he had never seen before. It was a mixture of anger, pain, and something else, something that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on.
But before anyone could say anything, Snape turned away, his attention back on the class. "Back to work, all of you," he said, his voice cold and distant. "We have a lot to cover today. Potter, stay behind after class."
Hermione and Ron exchanged sympathetic glances with Harry, Ron offering a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they made their way out of the potion class. Daphne's surreptitious smile and Tracey's nod conveyed their understanding as they too exited the room. Harry let out a sigh, slinging his book-bag over his shoulder before embarking toward Snape's office.
His knuckles rapped against the door, and he faintly heard Snape's voice granting him entry. The office was much as he remembered, glass bottles containing potion ingredients lined up on shelves, each meticulously labelled. The pristine cauldrons were neatly stacked in a corner, contrasting with the well-used one from the potion class. Bookshelves along another wall held what Harry presumed to be Snape's collection, some of which he had managed to obtain in the future, though most were lost to the ravages of the 1998 war.
"Professor, you asked to see me?" Harry inquired, his tone deliberately polite.
"Did Dumbledore brief you on this matter?" Snape's words were curt, his lingering anger palpable. Harry nodded in response. "Starting next week, you shall attend once a week. Ensure this arrangement remains confidential; should your friends inquire, tell them you have detention or remedial lessons with me. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied tersely, not wishing to escalate the situation.
"Do not take this lightly! You may leave now." Snape's dismissal was abrupt, his gaze not once meeting Harry's. With no further word, Harry exited Snape's office, his footsteps carrying him back into the potions classroom.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, he muttered, "Bloody hell," under his breath. "If it weren't necessary to preserve the timeline, I'd avoid this like the plague," he grumbled. His irritation momentarily abated as he surveyed the empty classroom, his gaze falling upon the cupboard at the back, near the exit.
After his recent observation of Snape's office shelves, his thoughts turned to a particular book he recalled from his sixth year – the Half-Blood Prince. The urge to retrieve it tugged at him. With a cautious glance toward Snape's office door to ensure it remained shut, Harry approached the cupboard. Amongst the pile of books designated for sixth-year studies, he embarked on a search until his fingers found the weathered tome. A triumphant smile played on his lips as he quickly stowed the book in his bag and closed the cupboard, leaving the potions class behind.
His steps quickened, but before he could make his way far, he was pulled into an empty classroom, surprise flickering across his features as he turned to face his unexpected captor.
Before Harry could even react, he found himself enveloped in a warm embrace, Daphne's arms encircling him tightly. Startled, he let out an exclamation, "Damn it, Daph! You surprised me!" He reciprocated the hug without hesitation, burying his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaling the familiar, soothing fragrance that he had come to associate with her. They remained locked in the embrace for a few precious moments, the reluctance to part palpable when they finally separated.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. But I was really worried!" Daphne's concern was evident in her eyes as she scrutinised Harry's appearance. Finding nothing amiss, she let out a small chuckle.
"Don't worry, Daph. Snape didn't torture me. He just handed me a schedule for Occlumency lessons, at Dumbledore's request." Harry conjured a couch, taking a seat, and Daphne followed suit, purposefully seating herself on his lap.
"Occlumency?" Daphne's brow furrowed slightly. "But I thought you already started learning that back at the academy. You mentioned meeting someone who helped you test your Occlumency barrier with Legilimency."
"That's true. I did learn Occlumency properly at the academy and had a fantastic teacher named Sensei Hattori. Merlin, I miss him. He was incredible at teaching the mind arts. I really should try to find him again in the future. Sorry, I'm getting carried away," Harry sheepishly admitted, before continuing, "But this time around, I'm learning it from Snape, on Dumbledore's orders. And let me tell you, it's been one of the most unpleasant experiences. It feels like he's constantly taking an ice pick to my mind during lessons, like a never-ending mental assault." He grimaced, noting the way Daphne's expression shifted in response.
Daphne's voice turned cold as she asked, "Are you sure this is even legitimate? Is Snape even authorised to teach Occlumency?"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea, to be honest. Dumbledore ordered it... Remember when McGonagall mentioned that Dumbledore wanted to speak with me the other day at breakfast?" Daphne nodded, and Harry continued, "I think Sirius, or whoever was looking after me, contacted Dumbledore to check on me while I was travelling back. Maybe they sensed something was off during the check. I'm not entirely sure. I'll need to talk to Sirius about it later. Honestly, I don't know if I can go through the same ordeal again, especially after what Umbridge put me through. Do you have any ideas on how to deal with Snape?"
Daphne's expression grew more serious as she leaned forward, her hands crossed. "You know, Harry, I understand how difficult this year has been for you. But I've never heard anything about you receiving Occlumency lessons from Snape."
Harry gulped, his nerves evident as he rubbed his nape. "Snape made it clear that I shouldn't tell anyone about it. If anyone asks, I'm supposed to say that I have remedial lessons with him. Only Hermione and Ron knew the truth, and honestly I've pretty much repressed those memories to the point I almost had myself brainwashed to forget them. It was not pleasant at all."
"Still you could have told me! Voluntarily repressing memories is not healthy Harry! It can literally damage your psyche!"
Harry winced at her frankness, the comment stinging but not cutting too deep. "Yeah, you're right. I've been pretty dense about it," he admitted, his expression pained. "Let's find a safer place to talk, maybe head up to the Room of Requirement. I'd rather not discuss it here. Oh, and I'm eager to hear your ideas for dealing with Snape!" He added with a hopeful smile.
"Harry!" A voice called out, causing Harry to pivot on his heel just as he was about to ascend the stairs. He spotted someone hurrying toward him.
"Hey, Angelina! What's going on?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You look like you've been chased by Peeves. Did he pull another prank on you?" he teased.
"Why aren't you in class?" Angelina asked casually, rolling her eyes in mild annoyance. "And no, Peeves didn't do anything. I just caught sight of you coming out of the dungeon corridors and wanted to talk."
"Oh, I just had Potions class, and it ended about 30 minutes ago," Harry shrugged. Angelina nodded, satisfied with his response, before she got to the point.
"It's rare to see you all alone. Where's Hermione and Ron? Remember, we have Quidditch practice this evening after dinner, Harry."
"Ah, they've already left, and I'm not under their watchful eye. I can come and go as I please," Harry replied, his irritation evident. "I had to go to Snape's office after class, which is why I'm alone now. And don't worry, I won't forget about practice."
"Detention?" Angelina's voice carried a tinge of sourness.
"No, just some remedial lessons," Harry explained, flashing her an innocent smile.
"Alright," Angelina looked sceptical, clearly not entirely convinced by Harry's explanation. "Just remember, Harry, there will be consequences if you don't show up!" Her playful threat hung in the air as she turned and left, leaving Harry standing in the corridor near the stairs.
"Bossy, isn't she?" Daphne's voice, muffled by the invisibility cloak, whispered next to Harry.
Harry chuckled softly. "Can't blame her. She's excited to be the Gryffindor team captain this year, especially after there was no Quidditch last year. Plus, it's her final year."
"Mind if I watch your practice?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning annoyance. "Oh? So, you're going to spy on the competition for your house team?"
They continued walking, making their way towards the 7th floor.
"Who said anything about spying? I just want to enjoy watching you," Daphne responded playfully.
Harry raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You watch me often?"
Daphne's response was a thoughtful hum. "I do when Tracey drags me to your matches."
Harry chuckled. "Well, she does watch every match."
Daphne groaned in acknowledgment. "Yeah, you're right.
Harry had collapsed onto his favourite plush couch, letting out a satisfied groan. "Even though it's just an illusion, this couch feels as comfortable as the one back in my flat, Daph!" he exclaimed with excitement.
Daphne had looked around the room in awe. The room they had conjured was an exact replica of Harry's muggle flat in London, with the exception of personal photos or mementos. Despite their engagement, they had still maintained separate residences. Daphne had resided at the Greengrass Manor, as her conservative father had disapproved of cohabitation before marriage.
"It's astonishingly realistic. This room is absolutely incredible!" Daphne had settled onto the couch where she often perused work files or indulged in her favourite romantic mystery novels.
Harry had beamed with pride. "It's meant to be a place of solace, a way to relive the times we've spent together. I know it's not real, but it's still comforting."
"You're absolutely right," Daphne had agreed warmly.
As Harry had risen from the couch and then settled back down, his expression had grown more serious. "This room also provides us with a safe space to discuss things that we wouldn't feel comfortable talking about in other locations, like Myrtle's bathroom or anywhere else. The only drawback is that it's quite a distance from where you are, and it doesn't make food."
"Shame, I could have gone for some tea," she had smiled at him. "It didn't bother me, Harry. We were free to roam the castle during the day, right?"
A sheepish grin had crossed Harry's face. "You made a good point."
Daphne had leaned back into the chair cushion, her curiosity piqued. "So, what was the reason behind the Occlumency lessons?" she had asked, hugging the cushion.
Harry had taken a deep breath before launching into his explanation. "Originally, Snape began teaching me Occlumency after the winter break under the guise of remedial Potions lessons. But the true purpose was to sever the connection I had with Voldemort." He had held up a hand when he saw Daphne about to interject. "Hold on, let me finish before you ask questions."
Daphne had nodded reluctantly, her curiosity still burning.
Harry had continued, "It all started with a nightmare I had during the summer before my fourth year. In the dream, I had seen Wormtail and Barty Crouch Jr. conversing with Voldemort. It had felt so real, as if I was right there with them. I had told Dumbledore, but he hadn't seemed to take it seriously."
Winky had suddenly appeared, carrying refreshments for them both.
"Winky! How did you know we were here?" Harry had asked in surprise.
"Winky heard Harry Potter sir and Mistress's thoughts from this room, requesting refreshments. So Winky came to deliver!" she had exclaimed proudly.
Harry and Daphne had exchanged glances, amused by the coincidence.
"Thank you, Winky. You can go back to whatever you were doing," Harry had said gratefully, offering her a warm smile before she had disappeared. They had each taken a cup of tea, Daphne adding two sugar cubes to hers and stirring them in before taking a sip. Harry had added milk to his. "I didn't know they actually read thoughts like that. At least that takes care of getting snacks here, at least."
She had nodded in agreement. "So, what happened next?" Daphne had prompted, eager to hear the rest of the story.
Harry had taken another sip of his tea before continuing, "The culmination of my nightmares had occurred the night before we left for the winter holiday. I had dreamt of Mr. Weasley being attacked by Nagini, Voldemort's snake, at the Department of Mysteries. Just like the previous dream, it had felt incredibly real. What had been worse, I had seen everything from the snake's perspective. When I had shared this with Dumbledore, it had seemed to trigger something in him. He had then ordered Snape to teach me Occlumency."
Daphne had stared at Harry in disbelief. "That can't be possible!"
"I know it sounds impossible, but it's true. Mr. Weasley had to stay in the hospital for over a week. His injuries had been severe."
"The difference between then and now is my scar." Harry had indicated the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, which had appeared faded.
Daphne had frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean by 'healed'? Didn't it always look like that? I mean, you often hide it with your bangs during school, so I never really paid much attention to it besides noticing its shape."
Harry had gaped at her. "Are you serious?"
Daphne had sighed. "I was not some starry-eyed fangirl, Harry. Why should I care about your scar? It's just there. Besides, I remember you often concealing it during our school years."
Harry had cringed at the mention of 'fangirl'. "Oh, right… I had forgot about that," he had muttered. "So yeah, we left for Sirius' house via portkey that night," Harry had mentioned casually. "And then the lessons had begun after we had returned to school, once a week." He had shaken his head. "So, ideas on how to keep Snape from learning we are from the future. Care to share?"
She grinned sadistically, and crossed her arms in front of her, trying to project as much intimidation into her pose as a 15 year old girl could.
"You know, Internal Affairs isn't just about storming departments to root out corruption or misconduct. We also play the roles of lawyers and interrogators, going after some of the most influential people in the government, including the Unspeakables. It's a tough gig, trying to pry information out of people whose job description is literally 'keep your mouth shut'. Kingsley's given us the green light to use potions during investigations if things get tricky, and IA's private library is a goldmine of forbidden and arcane texts, almost rivalling what the Unspeakables have. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve with potions and spells that I'm itching to try out. The best part? They're practically invisible. I've been dying to test them!" Daphne's eyes glinted with enthusiasm. "But, there's a hitch. Getting hold of a couple of rare ingredients might be a bit of a headache, not to mention expensive. I had a hunch Snape might have them, but I don't want to go all sneaky and swipe them from his office," she explained, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Harry had looked pensive for a moment before his face had lit up. "No worries! Just tell me what you need, and I'll get them for you," he had said, winking playfully.
"I won't argue with that," Daphne had agreed, a wicked grin on her face. "But how do we place the order? Umbridge monitors every letter students send, you know."
Harry's face had fallen slightly as he had scratched his head. "Oh, right. I hope Hedwig is alright," he had mumbled.
"Who did you send a letter to?"
"Not a letter, just a mail order. I was planning to do some clothes shopping. I'll ask Winky to pick up my order from Madam Malkin's," Daphne, aware of Harry's past struggles with clothing, hadn't pressed further.
Daphne had suddenly stood up, surprising Harry. "House-elf! That's a brilliant idea, Harry!"
"We can have Winky do the task," Harry had offered with a broad smile.
"Yes! I'll write down all the ingredients we need to buy." Daphne had quickly retrieved parchment and a quill and had begun jotting down the items.
She had looked up from her parchment. "When is your lesson scheduled?"
"After dinner next week, I think. But you're really not going to tell me what potion you're planning to brew?"
Daphne had hummed in response. "No, you'll have to wait until next week to find out," she had teased, her tone cryptic.
"Winky!" Harry's voice called out, and with a small pop, the energetic house-elf appeared before him.
"Master Harry Potter is calling Winky?" she responded eagerly.
"Yes, Winky. Could you do me a solid? I need you to order some potion ingredients and pick up my order from Madam Malkin's. But before that, swing by Gringotts and withdraw around 500 galleons. Here's my vault key," Harry said, handing over the key. "Just tell the teller you're Harry Potter's elf from House Potter."
"I know how to do it, sir. Winky is experienced in handling such tasks," Winky said confidently.
"That's awesome! And here's the list of ingredients you need to grab," Harry said, passing her the shopping list that Daphne had jotted down.
"Of course, sir! Winky will get right on it," Winky said before disappearing in a pop.
"Pulling out a hefty sum there, aren't you?" Daphne remarked.
"Is it? Just being cautious," Harry replied with a wink, prompting an eye roll from Daphne.
"Speaking of scars, what's the deal with your scar and those recurring dreams?" Daphne asked, sliding into a seat next to him.
"My scar…" Harry trailed off, his fingers subconsciously tracing the faded lightning bolt on his forehead. "It's not just a regular scar from the war. Remember that Halloween in 1981?" Daphne nodded, recalling the tale of how Harry survived Voldemort's attack as a baby.
"Well, the story's a bit more complex than just my mom's love saving me. Dumbledore liked to say it was her love that did the trick, which was a solid explanation when I was a kid. But as I got older, I started questioning it," Harry continued.
"Totally natural to want some answers. I mean, it's a pretty big deal that's been hanging over your head since you were a baby," Daphne reassured him.
"Exactly. So, here's the rundown: that night, when Voldemort tried to zap me with the Killing Curse, it backfired, wiping him out. Or so it seemed, until a few months back, around June 1995." Daphne leaned in, fully engrossed as Harry spilled the beans on the connection between his scar and Voldemort's anchors.
"So, you were on a mission to destroy these anchors during the time you were on the lam?" Daphne guessed.
"Nailed it. That was high on our priority list," Harry confirmed. Daphne felt a mix of emotions—curiosity, relief, and gratitude—knowing that Harry was sharing something so personal. "Damn, I'm so glad it's gone. The scar was like a constant reminder of everything, but now it's actually healed," Harry said, his fingers tracing the faint scar on his forehead.
"How... How did you manage to ditch it last time?" Daphne leaned in, intrigued.
"I... I let Voldemort hit me with the Killing Curse. Remember when I gave myself up to him in the Forbidden Forest?" Harry recounted.
Daphne nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. "I remember. You were being carried by Hagrid, and everyone was a mess. Including me. It was the most gut-wrenching and hopeless moment, until you miraculously got back on your feet and faced him again," Daphne's voice wavered, and Harry pulled her into a comforting hug, patting her back gently.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Harry whispered.
"I don't want you to do that again," Daphne sobbed.
"I won't, Daph. We'll find another way to take him down, one that doesn't involve me sacrificing myself," Harry reassured her with determination in his voice.
"I know, Harry. I trust you." Daphne managed a smile through her tears, looking into his eyes. He wiped away her tears gently with his thumb, a comforting gesture that made her heart flutter. "But it's still hard to wrap my head around the fact that you actually died and then came back to life for the second time. I was beyond relieved when you defeated him and returned."
"Thanks, Daph," Harry said, planting a tender kiss on her temple as he held her close. "I'm sorry it took me this long to share this with you. Especially considering we're getting married."
Daphne squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't beat yourself up over it, Harry. You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to. I get it, especially given how heavy this topic is. You haven't even spilled the beans to the Minister or the Unspeakables, after all."
"I still feel bad, though," he admitted.
"Don't. I know you have your reasons, and I respect that," she said, her eyes softening.
He peered at her intently, his gaze locked onto her face. "I've kept such a huge secret from you. How could you still want to be with me?"
Daphne hugged him tightly, nuzzling her face into his chest. "Oh, Harry... I should be the one wondering how you could still want to be with me. I'm practically held together by my family's reputation."
"Daph, you're brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate, one-of-a-kind, and you've accepted me as just Harry, not some label people slapped on me. I've never felt this content even when we're just sitting next to each other, doing our own things," Harry gushed, a fond smile on his lips. Daphne blushed at his compliments.
"And the most important thing," he continued, his voice growing softer, "I love you, Daphne Greengrass."
"I love you too, Harry Potter," Daphne murmured, their eyes locking in a moment of pure connection. The desire between them was palpable, and without hesitation, Daphne leaned in, tilting her head to the side, and their lips met in a soft, electric kiss. The sensation sent a shiver of excitement down Harry's spine, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as her lips parted, inviting him in. Daphne's fingers wound into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, and their kiss grew heated, their moans of pleasure mingling in the air.
Reluctantly, they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. Smiles tugged at their lips, a mixture of happiness and longing dancing in their eyes. Harry peppered kisses along her blushing cheeks before wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.
They cuddled for a few blissful minutes, still catching their breaths. Harry sneakily planted soft kisses along her neck, eliciting a delightful shiver from her.
"Harry... as much as I enjoy your attention," Daphne playfully scolded, "we do need to finish our conversation."
Harry grinned and straightened up, still holding her hand. "I promise, we'll pick this up later, Daph. But for now, let's get back to business."
Daphne chuckled. "Okay, okay. So, what's the deal with that abomination? Does it have a name?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "Indeed, it's called a Horcrux. It's created through an act of murder."
"Sounds dark and sinister," Daphne remarked, shuddering at the thought.
"And that's not the worst part," Harry continued, his expression growing graver. "There are actually seven of them. Well, eight if you count his original body."
"Seven?!" Daphne's eyes widened in shock.
"Yep, seven. My scar was actually an unintended one, he didn't realise he made it," Harry explained.
"That's... unnerving," Daphne admitted, feeling a chill run down her spine.
"But here's the silver lining. Five of them are already as good as gone. The Slytherin locket is at Sirius' home, the Ravenclaw's diadem is somewhere in the Room of Requirement, my scar is already gone, and the Gaunt family ring is... well, that one's a bit tricky. Dumbledore destroyed it, but I don't know where exactly or when."
Daphne nodded, her curiosity piqued. "And the last two?"
"Next we have Hufflepuff's cup in Bellatrix Lestrange's Gringotts vault, The last one is Nagini, his giant snake. Those are the two that will cause the problems. Once they are gone, it's easy to deal with Voldemort, any muggle with a shotgun could do the job then, it's just a matter of actually hitting him." Harry said.
Daphne was left speechless, her mind reeling from the revelation. "You went through so much during the war. It's... it's a miracle you made it."
"We'll defeat him this time, Daph. Together," Harry affirmed, determination burning in his eyes.
"Absolutely. We're in this together," Daphne agreed wholeheartedly.
"Thank Merlin for that, these little buggers are no joke. Remember Dumbledore's hand in 6th year? That was from the ring. It was killing him, and if he hadn't died during the invasion, he wouldn't have lasted through the night anyways."
"Ah, that makes sense. I remember we were all curious about that. Poor Dumbledore," Daphne mused.
"Yeah, he went through a lot," Harry agreed.
"And Snape... did he really kill Dumbledore?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, Dumbledore asked Snape to do it. He was already dying, and he wanted to spare Malfoy from the guilt of killing him."
Daphne sighed. "I knew Malfoy was acting strange that year. Pansy was devastated that things weren't the same between them. It's how she ended up clinging to me."
Harry's lips curved into a sympathetic smile. "You've been through quite a lot too, haven't you?"
Daphne nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "We both have, haven't we?"
"We have," Harry agreed, their eyes locking in a shared understanding.
Daphne leaned her head on his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence.
"You know, when I saw you going head-to-head with Pansy, I genuinely thought you two were becoming best buddies. And speaking of missing people, where was Bulstrode?" Harry asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Daphne shot him a glare, choosing to ignore his teasing. "Bulstrode? Oh, she was busy trailing after Crabbe like a lost puppy," she replied dryly.
Harry couldn't hold back his laughter, which earned him a sardonic look from Daphne. "I'm sorry, it's just... the visual," he managed to say between chuckles.
She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching despite herself. "I'm glad my misery could provide some entertainment for you. Now, back to business. Let's talk about destroying these Horcruxes. I can tell you right now, I'm not keen on learning how to conjure Fiendfyre."
He nodded in agreement. "Understandable. Well, there's only one other option, considering the Sword of Gryffindor is off the table."
Daphne crossed her arms over her chest, a determined look on her face. "Alright then, spill it. What's the alternative?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of seriousness and hesitation. "We'd have to use the fang of a Basilisk."
Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "A Basilisk? Harry, those are extinct!"
He turned to her with a hint of a smirk. "Not entirely. Remember my second year? I happened to slay one then."
Daphne's frown deepened as she recalled the story of Harry facing a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. "You're telling me we're going back down to the Chamber of Secrets? I mean, I've always wanted to see it now that I know it's real, but... really?"
Harry shrugged, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. "Well, not exactly. We'll need to go down there eventually to check on the state of things, but I think we should focus on retrieving the Cup first."
Daphne's eyes gleamed with excitement. "We get to explore the Chamber of Secrets? That's going to be amazing!"
Harry nodded, but then caught the glint in her eyes. "I sense a 'but' coming."
She smirked, her tone playfully taunting. "Oh, you're good. Yes, there's a 'but.' We might need to learn how to cast Fiendfyre, just in case. 'Better safe than sorry,' remember?"
He winced at the reminder, knowing she had a point. "Alright, alright. We'll consider it as a backup plan. But first, we'll try the Basilisk fang."
"Good," Daphne said, her playful demeanour returning.
"Oh, Daph! Speaking of dark magic, I almost forgot I got you a present!" Harry rummaged through his book-bag, excitement dancing in his eyes as he pulled out a slightly tattered and well-worn sixth-year Potion book.
Daphne's eyes widened as she took in the sight. "Is that your old textbook...? Harry, you didn't! WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT STEALING FROM SNAPE!" Despite wanting to curse him, she still couldn't keep the smile off her face.
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