So here is chapter seven everyone

I would like to thank my hero Beta,, thank you xoxoxo

I hope you're safe out there

Chapter 7

Harry's day started with finding himself sketching the body parts of some magical creature in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, as they had been ordered by the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. While he was sketching, his mind was in a whole different universe. After his first day and his encounter with the Ministry's employee, he knew things wouldn't be easier this year, not to mention that, being the main target of the press beside Dumbledore, he would not be able to train freely and Umbridge would make sure to make his life in Hogwarts miserable.

He looked up to everyone in the Forest, from the Slytherins to the Gryffindors. Each face he knew was a half-blood or a pureblood or a muggleborn. The upside of having a pureblood Godfather was his guidance in the matters of the wizarding community, yet even Hermione knew more about the wizarding world than he did, what had happened to him? Before he came to Hogwarts, he used to love learning and discovering new things and he was working so hard to hear some encouragement from the teachers, which had always resulted in hard punishment from Vernon because he was smarter than Dudley. So what had happened, why had he become lazy? He couldn't keep relying on Hermione's brain forever, he couldn't let his friends become targets of the psychopath out there; he must be stronger than Voldemort. While he was in the deep ocean of his thoughts, someone leaned against him and said, "It seems that someone's missing his lovely giant teacher?"

He looked to find Draco Malfoy with a smirk on his face as he continued talking in a volume only he and Harry could hear. "Maybe the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured," Draco pondered.

"Maybe you will too if you don't shut the fuck up," said Harry with the corner of his mouth.

Draco looked at him with wide-open eyes: he had never heard Potter swear before and that's why he found it more interesting to mock him.

"Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too big for him, if you get my drift."

Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who suddenly felt sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater, after all. He hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.

"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," said Hermione at once. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried, it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We better ignore him."

"Yes," they heard Malfoy's voice from the group nearest them, "Father was talking to the Minister just the other day, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really intent on cracking down on substandard teaching here. So even if that overgrown idiot does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

Daphne looked at Harry to warn him against doing anything stupid that would have him more hated by others than he already was but he was staring at nothing in particular. 'Please stay calm, you idiot,' she prayed.

So far, her house mates had been friendly with her and she had been friends with many of them for five years now; still, sometimes she got disgusted by their childish behaviour and ashamed of being in their circle. They were from noble families yet they were far from nobility in terms of character and disposition, and prejudice ruled their lives. What a society she lived in and communicated with; these kids were mocking her lord husband in front of her, talking of things they knew nothing about, knew nothing about the real world, about how dangerous and darker it was .Of course, what could they know—they had been raised to be spoiled and to serve this nascent lord and side with him. To think of this lord, she had only heard rumours about him: that he had almost won the first war but something had gone awry. Something had happened on October 31st years ago or... someone.

She looked again at him and wondered, 'How did he survive?' As far as she knew, ever since the advent of the wand, no one had survived an Avada. And to think that, judging from Harry's behaviour, he barely knew anything about this world. Now Draco Malfoy… from what she had learned about pureblood families, they worked hard to make their heirs worth it...most of these children were coming of age, which meant their fates had already been chosen, yet Draco was far from being ready to be an heir. This school would soon be a battlefield .

Cyrus for years had been preparing her to be the Greengrass heiress and this had taken her knowledge about the noble community to another level. Before she joined the Greengrass family, she had seen every society outside the royal palace as nothing but followers and low-levels; now she was amongst them, part of them, and had married to one of them. She knew how hard it was to be part of a community where everyone was nothing but a liar and Harry seemed to be very innocent so she felt it incumbent upon herself to guide him. She turned to Tracey and Pansy, asking them for help in the sketching—she always had trouble drawing so now she was using it in the hope to change the subject everyone was talking about, for his sake...

In the evening, after dinner, Harry bade his friends adieu and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. He entered cautiously, looking around, and wanted to laugh hard at the decor in the woman's office. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each standing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a compilation of ornamental plates, each adorned with a bin technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck.

"Good evening, Mr Potter," said Umbridge.

Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a floral set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening," Harry greeted back.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward a small lace-covered table draped. A piece of

blank parchment lay there, apparently waiting for him. He sat quietly, waiting for his detention to begin. 'Alright, Potter, don't let this old hag take you down.' he cheered himself up.

"If I may ask, what's my punishment, professor?" Harry inquired, looking with heavy eyes to the table.

Umbridge complimented him on getting better at controlling his anger and said he was to do some lines for her; however, rather than letting him use his own quill, she proffered him a long, thin black quill with an uncomfortably sharp point. In a soft tone, she informed him the line he had to write was "I must not tell lies".

"How many times?" Harry asked, feigning politeness the best he could.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

She returned to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of essays she was apparently marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill but realised something was missing. He asked her for ink.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the tincture of a laugh in her voice. Harry felt something was off about the whole situation but placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: 'I must not tell lies'.

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in something akin to red ink. At the same time, they had emerged on the back of Harry's right hand, engraved into his skin as though cut into it by a scalpel. In mere seconds, however, as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Harry stole a look at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quietly.

He wouldn't let his weakness show. He kept writing over and over again, enduring all the pain.

After what it seemed to be hours, Umbridge finally let him leave but with an unsatisfying sigh, reminding him to come again tomorrow to make sure the punishment sank in permanently.

Harry walked along the empty corridors when he remembered that he hadn't written his essays for tomorrow yet. He ran as fast as he could to the dorms.

Ron was pacing around the room for inspiration. He jumped as soon as he saw his best friend enter the common room and asked him about his detention, but Harry just sighed. Ron knew Harry had been closing himself off lately but he didn't want to press him to talk; he wanted him to come out of it of his own free will—after all, he was the one who had witnessed Harry suffer from the lack of sleep. He decided to cheer him up a bit so he told his best friend that he wanted to join the quidditch team this year but was afraid and embarrassed.

Harry found Ron walking around the room in deep thoughts so he startled him, causing Ron's face to turn white and blue from the fear. Then he asked him what had made him so worried that it wouldn't let him sleep. Ron confessed that he wanted to join the quidditch team this year but he was a bit embarrassed and scared. Harry laughed at that.

"Oh come on! Okay, I regret telling you now, don't laugh like that, Harry! I'm afraid of entering the team more than I am of spiders, even Ginny has more balls than I do and she is a girl ," Ron said with a redder face, whining. Harry burst into laughter at the mental picture.

"Don't worry, pal, I believe in you. In fact, I think it's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got into the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

"I'm not bad," said Ron, relieved. "Back in the Burrow during the holidays, when Charlie was around, I trained a bit with him.

"So you've been practicing tonight?" Harry asked after a big sigh from all the laughing.

"Yeah, just on my own, though," Ron looked nervous and anxious. "Fred and George haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."

"I wish I was going to be there," said Harry bitterly, as they set off together toward the common room.

"Yeah, so do— Harry, are you sure you don't want to be on the team this year?" Ron said in a sad voice .

Harry looked at him and put his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Yeah. Maybe I will return next year, but you... You will make a great keeper," he said in a happy voice.

Ron smiled widely at his mate and wished him good night..

The next two detention were as bad as the first one and he hated having to hide something from his friends or anyone at all. The lines had become more clean-cut by the third detention. He couldn't go back to the dorm: he was tired, so tired, and most places he knew about were probably now occupied since tomorrow was a weekend day. He looked at the marauders map to find a hideout and he spotted one. Searching in his bag for the invisibility cloak, he put it on and went to the library.

As he entered it under the dark pall of the night, he laughed: who would have thought that the son and godson of a marauder would spend his time in a library? He took a book from the shelf about the history of witchcraft, placed himself in the farthest corner of the library, and started reading. With each page he perused, he kept wondering, 'How could we win against them?'

"It seems that someone has discovered my secret hideout," a soft voice came from the shadows.

He pointed his wand at the intruder with a 'Lumos' on his lips, only to find none other than his wife facing him with books in her hands.

"Daphne!" he exclaimed. What was she doing here at such an hour? "Your secret hideout?"

"Yeah," she answered in a humming voice, walking towards the table.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked politely.

"Oh! No–not at all, go ahead," he said, pointing at the chair across him.

She thanked him as she dropped her books on the table and sat down quietly. He looked at her, then returned to his book.

After a long silence between the two, Harry looked from behind his book at her. He knew she was taciturn and didn't talk unless someone talked to so he kept thinking of how he should start a conversation. The last time, they had talked easily—of course, there had been some awkwardness, but they had survived that, hadn't they.

"May I ask, why are you up at this late hour?" Harry inquired quietly without looking at her.

She looked up from the parchment she was working on. "It's the witching hour, any good witch will be up," she said, smirking.

He looked at her and raised and an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?" he asked with awkwardness.

"Of course I am… These are some essays I need to work on..." she said with a grin. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said. 'Wish I could.'

She didn't reply; instead, she gazed at his book's cover and looked him in the eye for more explanation.

"I yearn to learn more about our lovely world," he said with a smirk as he rubbed his neck at the soreness.

She kept staring at him. "I heard about what happened the other day..." She said, working on her parchment.

"...and?" the question came from behind his book.

"What are you doing?... really?"

"...Nothing."

She looked to her side. "Do you want to do something about it?"

"You've no fucking idea... I'm trying to keep up but it's not working," he said, leaning against his chair.

She waved her wand and cast a silencing charm. She kept quiet for some time, searching for the right words as she leaned on the table to be closer. She had her own problems to deal with but that could be delayed; he needed help. She looked up and thanked her father with appreciation for the training days she'd had as a kid.

"—The ministery is after you... That man is after you," her eyes heavied and she propped her head up with her hand, facing him.

He stared at her putting the book down and kept reading her face; why was she always calm...

"And you... Who's after you?" he asked back.

"The devil," she said, sighing and closing her eyes.

"Are we cursed by gods?" he said in a mocking voice. She laughed. "I was born to be cursed, you?"

"Well, wife, it seems we have much more in common than I thought," Harry said, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

She looked straight back and smiled. "Husband, this is my advice for you keep in mind—" she tilted her head and shifted closer to him so he leaned in to her halfway as well. They were face to face, feeling each other's breaths.

Harry, for the first time, could see her face more clearly. It was so beautiful: her eyes were like blazing ice, but warm and capable of melting anything; her skin was porcelain, heart-shaped face and thin nose and pink lips—the same lips he had kissed on one of July's nights. Anyone would mistake her for a veela and maybe part of her genes were veelish. He kept waiting for her advice. She looked around her, then looked back at him.

"You need to be smarter than Voldemort, smarter than Dumbledore. I know they are strong but with a little patience and practice, you will make a difference, you already have. Look on the bright side: you dueled with one of them and managed to survive. Don't let yourself be a threat to Fudge. Just keep that in mind," she returned slowly to her seat without moving her gaze away from him.

Harry kept staring at her for longer than he knew as he was thinking of what she just said. Before he realised it, she was leaving, so he jumped from his seat and caught her by the wrist. The books she was holding fell on the ground. She turned to him so he slackened his grip but kept holding her.

Daphne tried to figure what he wanted of her; his grasp wasn't rough but gentle.

"I-I,Honestly, I'm fucked up, I—" he tried to talk but the words stuck in his throat. 'I need help' he confessed in his mind.

She kept herself cool as she was looking at him. 'His eyes are betraying him.' He was acting the same way her brother did when he was troubled. She smiled at him with sadness. "We both are."

His eyes flashed at her words and he let out the breath he was holding harshly with a frown.

She put her hand on the one he was holding her with, for reassurance. He pained the moment she touched him—he had forgot that his hand was had been cut so many times. Confused by his reaction, she looked down at their joined hands and removed hers. When she did it, she saw little burning letters in the back of his hand. The sight made her angry: it was a brand new scar!

Panicking, Harry he yanked his hand away from hers and bent down to pick up the scattered papers and books. 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuuuck!' he thought. It had been reckless of him to let her see that.

She stooped by his side with furrowed eyebrows and grasped his injured hand roughly. "It's Umbridge, isn't it?" she said in a firm voice.

He ducked and kept avoiding her stares. He was ashamed or maybe he just didn't seek sympathy; he didn't want to be weak in front of her and have more problems than he already did.

"Harry Potter!" She gripped his hand in so harsh a manner that he felt the burning come back again.

"It's— let's not talk about it, okay," he implored as he gave her back her books. He left her on the floor and went hurrying to the table, gathering his stuff and about to leave.

Daphne felt a surge of anger inside her: one, towards the woman that had inflicted this on her husband—his silent answer meant he wasn't denying that—and two, towards Harry's behaviour. She was trying to reach him and he was building walls.

He needed to know that he was not alone, not anymore; she stood up and grasped him, this time without looking at him, with both hands.

"Hey,what are you doing? OUCH! STOP IT... NOW!" Harry said in both anger and pain as he looked at her.

"Shut up and stay still, it will hurt a bit," she said as she held his hand in hers; Harry was angry but he relaxed and kept watching her attempt.

Daphne closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing system to match her heart rate. When the two were in sync, she started muttering, her lips barely parting, so that the words could reach her ears—words she hoped were correct, since for the first time in years, she was using wandless magic, for him.

She felt a dark aura between her hands. 'As I expected?' She had felt the dark magic the moment she touched his hand that first time; now she was trying to remove it. It was a torture artcraft so it was hard to take it off him, and she raised her voice and concentrated. "Luminas deltas zalam lumirous zoros zalam," she kept repeating the words over and over. She felt incandescent heat between her hands and Harry started screaming in pain, but she told him to shut it since she needed to focus. She knew it would hurt him badly but she must take it off. Once again, she kept muttering the words, focusing on the dark corner of her mind, searching for spots of the dark magic in his body, until she found a glimpse of it.

Harry felt that his hand was melting in her hands, as if it had fallen into a volcano. He kept resisting but the girl in front of him kept holding him now more firmly than before and asked him to shut up. He did not and insisted that he must know what she was trying to do. He wanted to push her away and reach for his wand—it should be on the table.

Daphne kept looking more until she found it. She opened her eyes and in a high-pitched voice, said, "LUMISIUS DOLOS ZALAAM!"

Moments later, Daphne stopped what she was doing, pulled her hands off him, and released a breath of fatigue. It had been years without using this kind of magic so it had taken much more of her energy than she had calculated.

Harry felt the pain finally leaving him. When he looked at her, she was moving away from him, picking her books up from the floor.

"What did you do?" he said, puzzled, but in a rigid voice.

"It is a little healing talisman that I know...I removed the remains of the black magic that was in your hand. Look at the back of your hand, it seems that our beloved teacher is fond of art—" she paused for a moment as she finally had picked up all her books and passed him, with her eyes closed, heading to the door. "The scars will remain, but only superficially, the words will not be clear," she said and left.

Harry looked at his hand. It was true: the words were barely legible.'Did she just heal me?' he wondered. When he turned to her, she was gone.

He jumped, running after her when he found her at the door.

"Stop, wait.. I—" he said, lost in words, trying to thank her and apologise but she interrupted him.

"What did you think?" she turned to him with a frowning and disappointed face. "Did you think I was going to curse you, kill you?" Daphne said with sadness. It was true, she knew it would be hard for both of them to work together—Slytherin and Gryffindor never went along. She felt it in his magic.

He might not realise this, but his magic revealed his intentions and ideas with ease; the magic spoke to her. This was the gift of the Vasilian family members.

The gift passed on from generation to generation. The ability to read, control, and deal with magic in all its forms; even if its owner did not realise it, no one could lie to the Vasilians. They were the owners of magic and its origin. She looked at him sadly, thinking about how different he was. She believed in her duty. When she was healing him, his magic had kept rejecting her and driving her out but she'd kept persisting.

She turned to leave, then stopped and breathed to calm down.

Harry felt kind of guilty. He had felt something when she was healing him but he was resisting her. She had been trying to help him, she had talked to him, she had wanted to feel him, but he had rejected her without knowing. She was leaving now and he couldn't do anything but his eyes flashed with hope when he saw her halt.

She turned around one last time to him, about to say something, her face strict and icey. 'The Ice Queen persona'—he had heard about this face, it was the face of the girl everyone in Hogwarts knew and feared, it was the face she used against the school, against the world, and now she was using it against him. They were not that close but ever since they got married, he had been himself with her and she had been herself with him... He felt pain in his chest at seeing that face suddenly. Now he was a 'stranger' to her.

"What I said that night... I meant it," she said firmly in a quick breath and left.

He stood tall and stiff in his place, looking at the mirage.

''What have I done,'' he said to himself.

The moment Daphne left the library, she leaned on nearest wall. Her body was betraying her and she prayed to be able to reach the dorm before she passed out. She shouldn't have used magic, she knew her body would get tired, but she had chosen to help him. She couldn't see her husband in pain. Things had been good, they were starting open up to each other, but she had fucked it up. Yet she couldn't lie to herself. 'Magic never lies,' she said, Hiis magic had jilted her.

She wanted to return to him and apologise for her actions but she couldn't. Her legs failed her. Before she realised it, she found that her feet were slipping and fell to the ground. She tried to cling tightly to the wall, but could not.

Somebody grabbed her from behind. She looked up tiredly, only to find Harry holding her as if she were something extremely delicate that could be broken at any moment. He was looking at her and his anxiety came through his features. He told her that he would take her to the infirmary but she refused, "D-Don't worry, I will be fine. I-It happens always," she said, breathing hard. It was true so she didn't lie.

Harry was worried when he saw her falling so he ran as fast as he could to catch her. She didn't want to go to the infirmary yet he wanted to do something for her.

"Take me back to my dorm, I can't walk on my own," she whispered to him.

Harry knew she was forcing herself to walk so he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the dungeons; judging by the hour, no one would see them, thankfully.

When Harry lifted her, she was surprised but didn't say anything, only leaned closer to him. She smelt his scent again and smiled weakly at it: it had changed. Back in July, she had smelt only soap and paper, now it was a mix of fresh firewood and bubble shampoo.

They kept silent the whole way to the dungeons. When they almost reached them, she stopped him and thanked him for helping her.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"You did nothing, so don't be," she replied, looking at him. He wanted to say something else but she wished him good night and left.

Harry waited until she was safely inside the dorm and went back to his dorm, worried about her.

The moment Daphne entered her room, she went to her bedside table, looking for her pills. She drank them in a hurry and lay down on her bed, expecting sleep to visit her any second now. She kept thinking...he came after her...and then her eyes closed.

I hope you enjoyed this chap

see ya next chap

XOXOXOXOOX