Chapter Twenty-Four – Dark Plans

A cool evening breeze swept across the clearing deep in the Forbidden Forest as the last rays of the setting sun tinted the sky a rich orange and deep red. It looked like something out of a magnificent painting, and it would certainly have been beautiful if you had eyes to see it. But Harry didn't. His eyes were fixed on the funeral pyre in the middle of the clearing.

Someone must have built it during the day, while he and Daphne had endured the lessons like walking corpses, gathering the branches and twigs and carefully piling them up, even though the wood would only serve to feed the flames.

Just like them, Harry thought. No matter how they lived their lives, how they amused themselves, how conscientiously or carelessly they spent their time in this world, in the end it didn't matter and they would crumble, burn, cease to exist, whatever. Like the wood on the pyre.

He forced himself to raise his eyes from the pile of wood to the body on it. Someone had given Sirius the same care as the pyre itself. He lay in a clean, light suit, his hands folded neatly across his chest, his eyes closed as if he were asleep. His hair was washed and combed out of his face.

Harry's eyes swept over the others present. Lupin, standing on the edge, his face almost as pale as the dead man's, the only colour in his face the dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for a second. Their Defence teacher was tapping his feet, but his gaze was fixed on the pyre before them. Next to Lupin stood Dumbledore, his white beard blowing gently in the wind, and he had swapped the colourful robes he usually wore for a plain dark blue one. He seemed to be lost in thought.

Next to him, right next to Harry, was Daphne. His girlfriend was dressed in black as usual, as if she was preparing for a funeral every day, but nothing could be further from the truth. Daphne meant life. To him. Harry knew that it was only because of their bond that the Dementors had not sucked out his soul. Their bond had wrapped around him like a chain and saved him.

I couldn't bear to see you die.

Daphne had told him that once. And of course that was why she would never let it happen. Harry was just glad that nothing had happened to her. If he had lost her... no, he didn't even want to think about that.

As if she could read his mind, Daphne looked at him from the side. Their eyes met and Harry felt the same comforting warmth as the night before, when they had made a whole new pact.

"Before we light the pyre," Dumbledore's voice broke the silence of the forest, "you may say your goodbyes."

Harry waited for the others to make their way towards the pyre, only then did he begin to move, the last in the short line.

Lupin and Dumbledore both touched Sirius' hand briefly and whispered a few words to him, prayers or farewells that Harry couldn't hear.

Daphne pressed something into Sirius's hand but said nothing. She just looked at Sirius for a few moments and then bowed her head slightly. Then she turned and stood next to their two teachers again.

Harry could feel their eyes on him as he walked over to Sirius' body. Up close, Sirius' face looked even more unnatural. After all, he had heard him scream when the Dementors had attacked him, had witnessed his agony. Surely such an experience should leave clearer marks on the physical remains, should leave deeper scars in the flesh, should make it forever impossible to look peaceful when one's soul has been sucked out.

He shook his head. Apparently not. The Dementor's Kiss followed by a Killing Curse was apparently nothing like death at the end of a magical torture. The animals he had sent to the afterlife in this way had certainly not looked like that. They had pain written all over their faces, as they should have, Harry thought, cursing himself for his excessive thoughts. This was not a philosophical debate. It was supposed to be a chance for a final farewell, but there were no such chances. He should have said goodbye to Sirius earlier, when they still had time to talk. He should have said goodbye to Sirius every day for the last twelve years, had the Ministry not imprisoned Sirius for something he did not do.

There seemed little point in speaking, but he took Sirius' hand gently, closing his eyes as he held it between his own. This was the time to offer a prayer, but which God would he pray to? The God of his religion class and the few church visits the Dursleys had taken him to, but whose power from the stories paled in comparison to the power of magic? To the spirits of nature that some wizards still believed in, but whose grip on the world seemed tenuous at best? Perhaps his own ancestors were best suited, but he was sure that his parents had already welcomed Sirius, or at least what was left of him. His prayers would be in vain.

Harry forced himself to turn, walk a few steps away from the pyre and take his place beside the others. As he did so, his eyes fell on Dumbledore, who was raising his wand to ignite the flames.

It's all your fault, he thought. It's your fault Sirius is dead.

The blaze caught quickly, the age-old scent of burning wood mingling with the sickening smell of charred flesh as the tongues of flame licked hungrily upwards, gnawing through both the pyre and the body. Harry stared into the shifting flame, stared at the ruddy sparks, stared at the sudden burst of bright golden smoke that rose from Sirius' hand and formed a barking dog's head – Daphne's bizarre tribute to their four-legged friend. He stared until his eyes watered from the smoke, until they burned, but he refused to close them or back away from the flame.


The Boy Who Lived – or rather: The Boy Who Was Hexed?

By Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Special Correspondent

Great relief swept through the wizarding world yesterday as a visibly satisfied Minister for Magic Fudge announced the death of Azkaban escapee Sirius Black in a late-night press conference. But while the wizarding community rejoiced at this victory for justice, disturbing rumours spread throughout the day. Rumours that none other than Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, currently in his third year at Hogwarts, and his girlfriend Daphne Greengrass, also in her third year, were involved in the incident.

We have been assured by reliable sources within the Ministry that both Potter and Greengrass are believed to have played key roles. According to the official, internal Auror report, Black is said to have ambushed them and used Confusion Charms to lead him into the castle to carry out his dark deeds. This last part, at least, has been corroborated by dozens of eyewitnesses within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, and can therefore be considered certain. So Potter and Greengrass were undoubtedly involved in yesterday's events surrounding Black's liquidation, but what exactly was their role?

This is where the rumours start to get really worrying. For while you, dear reader, may have felt sympathy for the two teenagers up to this point, there are numerous clues that point to a different interpretation. Were Potter and Greengrass really just too naive, too inexperienced, too weak to resist Black's spells – between you and me, it takes a very weak mind to be so easily manipulated – or is there a darker truth behind them? Some of their classmates claim that the pair have exhibited suspicious behaviour before – that they may even be experimenting with the dark arts themselves?

"They are definitely creepy," says one student who wishes to remain anonymous. "Last year in Professor Lockhart's Dueling Club, they cruelly attacked their classmates with an unknown spell that threw black lightning and broke their bones. I couldn't believe what I saw. It really looked like dark magic."

Another student recounts a strange incident last Halloween when Sirius Black tried to break into Hogwarts for the first time. "The whole castle was in an uproar and we were all gathered in the Great Hall, but Potter and Greengrass were not among us. They only arrived many hours later. Where were they, I wonder?"

Even Gilderoy Lockhart, who was a teacher at Hogwarts last term, in whose Dueling Club the above incident occurred, and who now holds the prestigious post of Grand Instructor in the Fight Against Dark and Darkest Magic at the International Confederation of Wizards, expressed concern. "Dark magic can corrupt even the strongest of hearts," he warns. "Therefore, we must be vigilant in protecting our youth from these corrupting influences. To that end, I recommend my new book, 'Lockhart's Noble Feud: Wand Against Darkness', which contains valuable advice and protective spells that can help anyone protect themselves from the dangers of evil. For just nine Galleons and ten Sickles from next month in all bookshops and by owl post. While stocks last!"

Asked further about his two former pupils, Lockhart says: "I hope there is no truth in the rumours. I took Harry to my heart during my time at Hogwarts, despite his learning difficulties and his, I'm sorry to say, almost pitiful attempts to impress me with his rather sub-par magical achievements. So I can well imagine that he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and did not have the willpower to resist Black's spells. This is another case where my new book can help!" And Miss Greengrass? "I don't really remember her," says Lockhart. "She must have been rather unimpressive. Not a very talented witch. Black must have had an easy time with her."

So were Potter and Greengrass really just innocent victims? Madam Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, seems to think so. When asked about the rumours, she simply replied: "Rest assured, if there were even a grain of truth in these speculations, my department would investigate them immediately. As Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass are not under arrest, you can draw your own conclusions. And now leave me alone with these children and let me do my job."

The story of Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass will continue to spark debate and speculation. Are they innocent victims or is there more to the dark tale? The wizarding community will be watching closely as the rumour mill continues to work overtime.

And that is perhaps the most frightening part of all. The question of what would be worse: the idea that Harry Potter, hero to us all and embodiment of our victory over a dark age, might actually be a dark wizard in training, or a weak-willed naive with limited magical talent?


Furious, Harry threw the paper into the fireplace in the Room of Requirement. An hour had passed since Sirius' fire burial, and the evening edition of the Daily Prophet had greeted them on their return to the castle like a punch in the gut.

"Bastards," he hissed.

Daphne clicked her tongue in agreement. "Vile are our enemies, Harry. Venomous daggers and foul words are their weapons." She made a contemptuous gesture with her hand. "The Ministry, the Daily Prophet, the public. They don't give a damn about justice. Not with Hagrid all those decades ago, not with Malfoy and his cronies, and not with Sirius now."

"No," Harry countered, "there will be justice. We will see justice done."

Daphne's amber eyes lit up at his words. She nodded. "Yes. Yes! Let's make a list."

As if from nowhere, a wooden table appeared beside them, on which lay a roll of parchment, an inkwell and a quill. The ink was blood red, as if the Room of Requirement had a macabre sense of humour. Or Daphne had deliberately chosen that colour. Probably the latter.

His girlfriend took the quill and dipped it into the inkwell. She looked at him expectantly. "What shall we start with?"

"Revenge at the Ministry," Harry said like a wand shot. Daphne's quill scratched across the parchment. "For putting the Dementors around the castle, for putting Sirius in Azkaban, for –"

"Not so fast, I can't keep up," Daphne interrupted.

Harry took a few deep breaths. His body was shaking and his hands were clenched into fists. Only slowly did his pounding heart settle. He concentrated on his Occlumency exercises and when his heartbeat had at least approached a normal level again, he finished his sentence. "For being good for absolutely nothing."

Daphne wrote it down. "What next?"

"Revenge at Dumbledore," Harry said. "For standing by and doing nothing."

"And for forcing us into this pathetic charade with Madam Bones," Daphne added.

Harry nodded. There was indeed more than one score to settle, even if it wouldn't change the outcome.

"And finally," he said firmly, "we must become more powerful. Much, much more powerful. So that this never, never happens again."

"That's the most important thing," Daphne said, continuing to write on the parchment. "And it goes hand in hand with the fact that we need to restore our reputation. The idea that people think I'm weak is... Unbearable. Unbearable, yes."

"I didn't think you cared so much about other people's opinions."

Daphne snorted, and there was fire in her eyes. "I don't really. I don't care if others like me or hate me, if they find me likeable or repulsive. But I want them to take me seriously. I want them to respect me, or if not, at least fear me. I want the name Daphne Greengrass, or whatever I call myself later, to fill people with awe."

Harry looked at her curiously. Whatever she would call herself later?

Then Daphne rose from the table and held the parchment out to him. He took it from her. It wasn't a long piece of writing, just about half a page in Daphne's squiggly handwriting, with three points highlighted by double underlining.

1. Revenge on the Ministry

2. Revenge on Dumbledore

3. Become powerful

Yes, it wasn't a long list, but it held the full weight of his life from now on, Harry felt, and his future. His eyes fell on Daphne, who was looking at him with the same determination as the night before. Their future, he corrected himself. They were in this together.

His fingers brushed over the red ink. Red like blood. Blood that would undoubtedly flow when they put their plans into action. Was he really ready for that?

Daphne put her hand gently on his arm and gave him a warm look. Her golden eyes, with a greenish glow, sparkled in the light from the fireplace, causing dark shadows to dance across her skin. Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful. "The world cannot be changed with pretty words alone," she said, "and before we can create something new, we must destroy the old."

"We're not even fourteen, Daph," Harry said quietly. "Teenagers, children even in the eyes of many. What if we're just megalomaniacs?"

"All the more reason to pursue our goals all the more determinedly. For we are only megalomaniacs if we fail. And I have no intention of failing. Never again."

It was clear from Daphne's voice that she meant every word. And hearing that certainty in his partner's voice also filled Harry with confidence.

"It's going to be a long haul," he said, not to take away their hope, just to express the harsh reality that awaited them. Like the list, which many would probably call silly and childish, it helped him to organise his thoughts.

"We will be patient," Daphne said. "And strike when the time is right."

"We could use allies."

Daphne looked at him curiously. "Who do you have in mind? Ron and Hermione?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "They deserve better. We... we're not going to drag them into this."

"Who else?"

"I don't know. Lupin, maybe?" He was a pathetic man, Harry knew that himself; after all, he hadn't even managed to show his supposed friend the last bit of mercy... but at least he was an adult, capable wizard. Better than none.

Daphne frowned. "Maybe, but we have to be careful."

Harry squeezed her hand. "We don't have to decide now. It's too early anyway. Let's wait and see how things develop."

With that, he walked over to the fireplace and threw their list of vengeance into the flames. In seconds the parchment was reduced to ashes, like the scurrilous article in the Daily Prophet before it.

"But you are right," he said. "We must be careful. We can't leave any traces."

Daphne came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it. Her hair and breath tickled his ear as she spoke. "We never did, did we, Sir Harry?"

He froze at her words. Daphne must have sensed this because she pulled her arms away from him. Slowly, she walked around him until she could look into his face, concern in her eyes. "What's wrong? Did I –"

"No," Harry said. "Just please... please don't call me that anymore. What we're going to do, what we're going to do together ... no, it just doesn't fit anymore."

Daphne squeezed his hand. "I understand what you mean. But to me you will always be my beloved Harry."

His eyes widened. "Do you mean –"

"Yes, Harry, I love you. With all my heart."

Harry nodded. For the first time since Sirius had died, he allowed himself to cry.


The following weeks brought a quieter time at Hogwarts, at least compared to the turmoil that the appearance of Sirius Black and his subsequent liquidation by the Dementors had brought to the castle. Still, it was the number one topic of conversation for a long time, and Harry lost count of the number of times he felt his classmates staring at him, or heard his name in overheard conversations. It was nothing new to him either, as he had experienced similar things before, such as after the events at the Dueling Club.

But while the looks and conversations of his classmates then had been filled with astonishment, admiration and sometimes disbelief, now there were other elements mixed into the general emotional state of the school community. Amusement, mockery, contempt. Even Draco Malfoy, who for months last year had not even dared to look in their direction, was now giving Harry and Daphne snide looks, followed by a comment to his cronies that had them bursting into ugly laughter.

And his friends, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, even Fred and George, kept giving him worried looks, as if he were made of glass and they were afraid he would shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment.

Harry hated it. He hated every second of it. And that was why he avoided them more and more. Hermione was obviously disappointed that he wasn't studying with her anymore for the upcoming year-end exams, but Harry just couldn't help himself. He was afraid he might explode, and he didn't want to hurt his friends.

Daphne was even more affected and spent every free minute in the Room of Requirement, training and blowing off steam, as they euphemistically called it. Once she even told him how she imagined the rabbits who were the victims of her rage were their stupid classmates or the parasitic Rita Skeeter.

Harry's scar, however, which had tormented him so often, had not hurt once since the Dementor had attacked him and tried to suck out his soul. It was as if that pain had washed away all other pain. And his scar had been fading ever since, as he could see in the mirror every morning. Soon it was barely visible on his skin anymore. At least one positive development. Harry had always hated his scar, and he wouldn't shed a tear over it.

It was in the middle of the exam period one evening, when Harry and Daphne were on their way to the Great Hall after another intense training session that had left them exhausted and hungry, when they were stopped by Professor McGonagall.

"Potter, Greengrass, there you are," she called, a little out of breath.

The two stopped. "You've been looking for us?" asked Harry.

His Head of House nodded. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you, Mr Potter. So if you would please follow me."

Harry and Daphne exchanged glances. Why did Dumbledore want to see them now of all times? They had actually expected this weeks ago. Well, they weren't going to find out the answer to that question by doing nothing, so they nodded at Professor McGonagall.

"All right," Harry said.

"Actually, the Headmaster only requested your presence, Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she started to move. "But it seems to me that the only way to get the two of you now is as a pair."

"That's right," Daphne said.

Harry thought he saw the hint of a smile on McGonagall's face.

Finally they reached Dumbledore's office, which they entered after a short knock. Inside, however, not only was their Headmaster waiting for them, but also the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who greeted them with a beaming smile.

"Ah, Mr Potter. How wonderful to see you. And the lovely Miss Greengrass is here, too. I trust you are well? Have you got over the scare with Black all right? Amelia Bones tells me you were quite taken by it, but who could blame you? It would have been a traumatic event even for adult and trained wizards, let alone children like you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Daphne said coolly. "And thank you, I am excellent."

"Wonderful," Fudge said, as if he hadn't noticed Daphne's tone. He shook both of their hands. "And Mr Potter, are you well too?"

"Thank you. Yes," Harry said. He wondered what the hell the Minister wanted from them, but he was sure they would soon find out.

"Wonderful. Wonderful."

Now Dumbledore spoke for the first time. "Good evening Harry, Daphne," he said calmly. He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Please take your seats. And thank you, Minerva, for bringing them here."

"Of course," Professor McGonagall said before leaving the office.

Harry and Daphne took the chairs and Fudge sat down as well.

"We won't keep you from dinner for long, I promise," Dumbledore continued. "You are probably wondering what we want from you."

"Yes, the question has crossed my mind," Harry said as his eyes swept over Dumbledore and Fudge. Inwardly, he focused on his Occlumency shields; they were crows in a lion's den, after all. Or something like that. Daphne could certainly put it better. He, on the other hand, had to stop himself from jumping over the desk and acting out his revenge fantasies on the spot. But he knew what a stupid idea that would be. No, everything in its own time, even if it required cruel patience. Forcing himself to keep a neutral expression, he asked, "Why did you call us?"

Fudge spoke. "Actually, we only called you, Mr Potter, but I suppose your, er, girlfriend?" He gave Harry a questioning look. Harry nodded and Fudge continued with a smile. "Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with your girlfriend being here. So, the reason you're here, and I'm here too, it's not that I don't enjoy coming to Hogwarts, quite the opposite, for I still carry the memories of my own time in these venerable halls in my heart, but a Minister for Magic, as you can imagine, is always very busy, well, the reason I'm here today..."

Fudge played nervously with his fingers and Harry almost had a nervous breakdown. Daphne's facial muscles twitched as if she was about to click her tongue.

"So the reason is that Sirius Black's will was found..."

Harry's body froze. An icy shiver ran down his spine. "What?"

"He left you everything, Harry," Dumbledore said.

A numb sensation spread through Harry's body. He felt as if he were falling into a bottomless pit. Then he felt Daphne's hand on his. Her black lacquered fingernails dug into his skin and the pain cleared his mind.

"Is this a bad joke?" asked Daphne sharply. "What is this?"

Fudge shook his head. "No, it's all true, I'm afraid. The will is genuine, the specialists at the Ministry have confirmed that."

"But we have a hypothesis," Dumbledore said, looking at them intently through his half-moon glasses, as if trying to communicate with them in his mind. "Because the will is dated August Nineteen Eighty-one, two months before Sirius Black betrayed your parents to Voldemort, Harry."

Harry suddenly understood what their headmaster was getting at. And he felt so sick he almost threw up.

"You mean it was all a sham?" asked Daphne. "To keep up appearances?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It is the most obvious explanation. Or what do you think, Cornelius?"

"Exactly," said Fudge. "That was my immediate guess, too. But even if the will has such a, well, disreputable background, it is valid. That means you, Mr Potter, are the sole heir of Sirius Black. But I think it would be best if this wasn't made public. It might be difficult to explain to people. Now, where was I? Oh, right. I'm sure you'd like to know exactly what the inheritance entails."

Harry nodded stiffly. "Yes, please."

"You will inherit a large sum of gold which will be placed in your vault at Gringotts. You can ask the goblins for the exact amount, but it should be substantial. You will also inherit the Black's ancestral home in London, with all that goes with it, and the family's old house-elf to look after it."

Sirius' home, Harry realised. His home he must have hated because, like him, he hadn't had a good family life. He'd told him that before... Before everything had gone to hell.

Harry's thoughts must have been reflected in his face, because Fudge spoke quickly. "I know, I know. It must be terrible for you, probably even repulsive, to inherit from such a criminal, but don't worry. Just because you take the gold doesn't mean you'll get your hands dirty. And of course you'll have to pay tax on the inheritance, so the magical community and the Ministry will also benefit, and that's something to think about, isn't it? Black would probably turn in his grave if he knew that."

Fudge began to laugh, and Harry wondered what his screams of pain would sound like if he were to perform the Cruciatus Curse on him.

Dumbledore must have at least guessed what was going on inside him, because he gave him a sympathetic look. How Harry wanted to claw his ugly eyes out right now.

"I'm sure we can find a use for a house in London," Daphne said coolly. She sat in her chair, her back arched as if it were an instrument of torture. "And you can never have too much gold."

"We?" asked Fudge. "Oh, you mean you and Mr Potter? Are –"

"Harry and Daphne are very close, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "In fact, they have been through a great deal together and have achieved impressive things. I am very proud of them."

Fudge blinked in confusion. He obviously hadn't expected to hear such words. "Oh, well... that sounds great. Well, thank you again for your cooperation, Mr Potter, Miss Greengrass. I think that's about it. I'm sure you have a lot to do, and I won't keep you from your well-earned dinner. But perhaps one last piece of advice. Don't let certain members of the press get you down, will you? They write what they want anyway, whether it be lies or the truth. Believe me, nobody understands that better than I do." He winked at them.

It was only after Harry and Daphne had left Dumbledore's office and reached a spot in the school corridors where they could not be overheard by classmates, ghosts or portraits that Harry spoke next.

"Fudge too," he said to Daphne. "Fudge goes on the list too."


After learning of Harry's inheritance, Daphne and Harry quickly decided to visit this ominous Black ancestral home during the summer, and even to spend their entire holiday there. Hogwarts would forever hold a special place in their hearts, as it was the place where they had felt free and happy for the first time in their lives, and they would forever cherish the memories of their summer together in the castle, but for the path they were about to take, they could not have enough privacy and protection from prying eyes and ears.

The ancestral home of this notoriously sinister family might be just what they needed. But Daphne also sensed how much it would mean to Harry to see the house where his godfather had grown up, even if he had hated it. And if they didn't like it either, they could just burn it down, nothing easier than that.

Okay, maybe there was one thing that was even easier than burning down a London townhouse – the year-end exams at Hogwarts. No matter how much their classmates complained that their teachers were unfair, the material too hard and the magic too demanding, for Daphne the exams were no more difficult than a flight on a balmy spring day. With a tailwind. And Harry felt the same way.

Whether it was Professor McGonagall's request to turn a teapot into a turtle – Daphne turned her teacher's entire tea service into a zoological garden – or Flitwick's test on fog and weather charms, they both aced each of the practical tasks without even having to try very hard. And they did well in the written tests, too. Only Potions, as always, was far from perfect, but they didn't have a fair teacher in that subject anyway.

Fair. Daphne almost laughed at the word. Nothing in this world was fair. Never had been. The point was to gain the power to prevail in this world, and then you could decide for yourself what was fair and what was not.

Even her last exam of the school year, the one in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Daphne passed without the slightest effort. Perhaps just a little sweaty, she left the obstacle course full of magical creatures that Lupin had devised for them.

At the exit, her Defence teacher was waiting for her with a faint smile on his lips. It seemed to be one of the few facial expressions Lupin had been capable of in recent weeks. Either his face was expressionless, like an unadorned mask, or he forced himself to smile that faint smile when he felt he should at least show some positive energy. Daphne found both pathetic.

"Well done," Lupin said. "You didn't hesitate once and always came up with a perfect solution. So all in all, full marks. Congratulations. But your solution to the Boggart surprised me. No more earthworms?"

Daphne shrugged. "I felt like something a little more exciting today."

"An exploding cage is undoubtedly very exciting, though perhaps not very funny."

"That's what you think," Daphne said dryly. She crossed her arms. "Can I wait here for Harry?" She knew it was his turn after hers.

"Of course," Lupin replied before leaning back over a large crystal ball from which he could watch each station of the course.

The minutes passed, Lupin staring intently into the crystal ball and making notes on a piece of parchment beside him. Daphne, on the other hand, was concentrating on Harry's feelings as they washed over her from afar like waves on the shore, slowly growing stronger. And hotter. Then Daphne suddenly felt a burning sensation, as if she had burned herself on a candle. She winced.

Oh, Harry.

At the same moment, Lupin's face turned ashen. Daphne stifled a grin.

When Harry emerged from the obstacle course a moment later, his face was grim but satisfied. Quite the opposite of Professor Lupin.

"Harry," he called. "What was that? What did you... you killed the Boggart..."

It was obvious that Lupin had no idea what to say. Why was that not surprising to Daphne? She had decided to put her plan into action today, for Harry's sake, but she was more than a little doubtful that it would lead to anything. Better no ally at all than one as spineless as Lupin.

"Of course," Harry said with a shrug. "This is the Defence exam, after all, and I've defended myself."

Daphne felt her heart swell with pride in her partner and gave him a fervent look.

"Defending yourself does not automatically mean killing your attacker, Harry, despite your current feelings," Lupin continued. He gave him a stern look, as if to intimidate him. "I'll have to deduct points for that."

"Do what you have to do," Harry said and turned. He walked past the hedges that protected the obstacle course from prying eyes towards the castle, but stopped when Daphne didn't follow him. He turned to her. "Are you coming, Daph?"

"You go ahead and get us good seats for dinner," Daphne said. "I want to ask Professor Lupin a quick question. If you have time, of course, sir?"

This seemed to surprise Lupin. But after a moment he said, "Er, yes, of course, Daphne."

Harry and Daphne exchanged a look and now her boyfriend seemed to understand what she was about to do. He nodded at her. "All right. I'll go ahead then."

With that, Harry turned and started walking back towards the castle. His walk seemed easy, but Daphne saw how tense his body was, how straight his back was and how his hand never strayed far from his wand. She stifled a sigh and turned her eyes to Lupin.

He looked at her intently, and a little suspiciously. "How can I help you, Daphne?" he asked. "If you want to put in a good word for Harry, then –"

"What's wrong with you, Professor?"

Lupin stopped. His eyes widened slightly. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" repeated Daphne. "Your friend was murdered and you carry on as if nothing has happened?"

For a moment Lupin stared at her, frozen, and Daphne almost felt she had got through to him, but then her teacher shook his head. "Everyone deals with grief in their own way, Daphne. I can understand that you and Harry are angry, I'm angry too, believe me, but –"

"So what are you going to do?" said Daphne. "To deal with your grief, with your anger? What are your plans?"

"I don't have any plans. But I'm trying to come to terms with what's happened. Professor Dumbledore has been kind enough to arrange appointments for me with a Mind Healer, an old friend of his. I've been seeing him twice a week for the past five weeks, every Monday and Thursday, and –"

"What?" said Daphne. She had the feeling she was reading the wrong book.

Lupin looked at her with a smile that was probably meant to be sympathetic. "I can ask him if he'd like to meet with you and Harry sometime, if you'd like. Or I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can arrange something else, perhaps even a healer who specialises in traumatised children. You don't have to bottle it all up like you've been doing lately. We can work together to find healthier outlets for your anger. You are not alone, Daphne. We are here for you."

Daphne clicked her tongue and shook her head in disbelief. "You're not. You're not here for us. Especially not for Harry."

"I wanted to give him a chance to make contact on his own. I ... I didn't want to presume to interfere too much in his life after we hadn't seen each other for so long. But if he wants to talk to me and –"

"He doesn't want to talk to you!" said Daphne, almost laughing in despair. "He wants your succour! He wants your anger, your hatred, your determination!"

"Determination for what?" asked Lupin, the suspicion suddenly back in his face.

"For what must be bloody done! For retribution, for justice, for something!"

"For something," Lupin repeated, as if tasting the words on his tongue. "Something always happens."

"Something we determine," Daphne said.

"You know, Daphne, I've heard that so many times." Lupin turned slightly to look over at the castle, rising gracefully against the blue sky and high mountains. "People want to hold the reins of their lives, to decide for themselves what happens and what doesn't. And who can blame them? But with time you learn. Something happens, some want to promote it, others want to prevent it. Everyone wants to determine that something. Then something happens again, and something happens again, and something happens again. And each time someone wants to decide what happens next. Only a few make it, and nobody makes it forever. But at your age, I probably would have felt the same way."

Her teacher turned back to her.

When he did, Daphne drew her wand and pointed it at his throat before he had so much as a chance to react. The tip of her wand dug into his skin. It was only a light pressure. She did not thrust deeply. Instead, she let her wand get just a little warmer.

Lupin's eyes went wide. He had never been as involved with Daphne as he had been with Harry, but even he knew. He knew that she was harder and colder than other girls her age, a determined witch, a sinner in thought if not in deed. To her, severing an artery or lopping off a head would be a child's play.

Daphne smiled amiably, and for the first time her teacher's expression froze completely. It was hard to tell if his intuition was sharp or dull, but either way he had finally realised something.

He had realised how utterly furious Daphne was.

Her expression still as mild as could be, she spoke with firm conviction. "You have no idea what's going on inside of us, Professor. Or what we are prepared to do to achieve our goals. So I ask you again. Will you support us, will you support Harry?"

"You have plans," Lupin said in a low voice. He looked at her as if he saw her for the first time. And as if he was disgusted by her. "What are you planning?"

"Can't you guess, Professor?"

Daphne had always believed in the power of words. And she didn't even mean that the right words at the right time, accompanied by a certain movement of a certain stick, could work magic, no, she believed that words had a power of their own, that just by saying something, you could bring it to life and spin the threads of the world anew. That was why she wanted Lupin to speak it. To face this new reality, to make it part of himself and the world, as it were, by speaking it out.

"You want to answer injustice with vengeance," Lupin said. "The death of an innocent with violence. Tears with blood."

"You're quite the poet, Professor."

Lupin shook his head, hampered by Daphne's wand still digging into his throat. "I was blind," he murmured. "I was so blind." He looked at her, sudden determination in his eyes. Daphne was beginning to feel hopeful at this change in him, but then he went on. "I was blind to the viper that began to feed on Harry's chest. To the darkness that surrounded you both. To the poison you dripped into Harry's ear to achieve your own perverse ends."

Daphne's jaw hardened. Her wand hand began to shake slightly. "You know nothing," she hissed.

"I know enough. I know I have watched your doings for far too long. But that's enough now. This very day, I will go to Professor Dumbledore and –"

"Obliviate."

Suddenly Lupin's eyes went lazy. Daphne stifled a curse as she began to erase the memories of the last few minutes from her teacher's mind, replacing them with harmless recollections of her merely inquiring about her performance in the exam and how she could improve. True, that had always been her contingency plan, and frankly, she had assumed from the beginning that Lupin would be too weak to go along with their plans, but still... his words had stirred her and filled her with disgust.

My own perverse ends, she thought angrily. The only thing perverse is this world. And if he thinks I would ever use Harry for anything, he is truly blind. And to compare me to a stupid viper – fie!

She would have liked to put a much more drastic curse on Lupin, but she couldn't. It would draw too much attention if her teacher suddenly screamed in pain and rolled on the floor. But she already knew what she would do tonight under the protection of the Room of Requirement.

By the time Lupin's eyes cleared, Daphne had already put away her black wand. He blinked a few times and frowned. "Um, what did I just say? I'm afraid I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment."

"You were complimenting me on my ingenuity in fighting the Red Caps," Daphne said, "how I just froze them to ice. And then we talked about these creatures' fondness for places where blood has been spilled. What that says about their nature, that they're attracted to that sort of thing. Whether they're inherently evil or just misunderstood."

"No one is inherently evil," Lupin said, shaking his head slightly. He was still not quite right.

"My words," Daphne said. "Thank you again, Professor. I learned a great deal from our conversation." With that, she turned and headed for the castle.

Lupin called after her, but Daphne had had enough of that pathetic excuse for a human being and quickened her pace.

At the entrance to Hogwarts, a familiar figure was waiting for her. Harry was leaning against the archway, waving his wand in circles through the air where little white clouds formed in the shape of crows and snitches. How pretty.

As soon as Harry saw her, he pushed himself away from the archway and the little clouds burst like soap bubbles. "Well?" he asked.

Daphne shook her head. "No, we can't count on him. As it is, we're on our own."

"As always, then," Harry said, perhaps with a hint of disappointment in his voice, but his gaze was hard. He took her hand and together they entered the castle.

Yes, as always, Daphne thought, intertwining her fingers with Harry's.

She just hoped she hadn't made a mistake with her Memory Charm and that Lupin would remember exactly how well she had done in the exam. Not that today would also have a negative effect on her grades, besides the disappointment that Lupin was just as useless as she had always feared. Because that would be a shame, wouldn't it?


"The best in the exams were Harry and Daphne, by a large margin, confirming their performances throughout the year."

As he did every year, Albus listened attentively to the reports from his teachers, with whom he traditionally sat down at the end of the year to discuss the performance of their students. How they had progressed, who had what talents that could be developed, and whose weaknesses might need more work to bring out hidden potential. But even he could not deny that he had been particularly curious about the assessments of the third years, and of two of the third years in particular. And so his eyes were fixed on Remus, who was speaking.

"They both completed the obstacle course full of magical creatures that I had prepared for my third years without any effort," Remus continued. "And much quicker than I would have thought possible."

"That's because there were no Dementos in the course," Severus interjected from across the table. "I suppose that would have been more of a challenge for Potter, perhaps too much of a challenge, by all accounts."

A wave of indignation swept around the table, with Minerva and Hagrid in particular glaring at Severus. Albus decided to step in before the situation escalated. Their meeting was going to go on long enough, they couldn't afford childish arguments.

"Let's stay on topic," he said calmly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Continue, please, Remus."

Remus sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Academically, I'm not worried about them, but I don't think they've processed what's happened yet. Harry... he even killed the Boggart when it took on a rather... disturbing form."

He looked at Albus, and this time it was Albus who sighed softly. He could only imagine what Harry must have seen.

"Potter killed a Boggart?" said Severus, and for once his voice didn't sound mocking. "Impressive."

Remus went on, ignoring his colleague. "I didn't even know the spell he used. Silent, it has to be said."

At this point some of the teachers, who had already had their own experiences with Harry's magical abilities, nodded. Remus' words didn't seem to surprise any of them.

But Pomona used the brief pause to ask, "But he really killed a magical creature? Isn't that... a bit disturbing?"

"He's had a difficult time," Albus spoke up before Remus could answer. "And facing one's fears, especially after such traumatic events, can lead to certain reflexive reactions. And Harry is a fighter. When he sees danger to himself and the people he loves, he attacks. In this he follows in his parents' footsteps. He inherited their temperament, and I do not need to remind anyone of Lily's temperament, do I?"

A brief laugh went round the table at his words, Filius and Minerva in particular chuckling softly, while the faintest hint of a smile formed around Remus' lips and Severus stared stubbornly at a piece of bare stone wall.

"To answer your question, Pomona," Albus continued. "No, I do not think we need to worry about Harry."

At least not any more than he already was, Albus added thoughtfully. He knew that he had deeply disappointed Harry's trust in him when he had failed to protect Sirius. He just hoped to win it back, bit by bit.

"And the others?" he asked Remus, continuing the meeting.

Remus looked at the notes on the table in front of him. "All in all, I am very proud of my students' achievements. Many of them have done really well and learned a lot, as you can see from their grades in the end-of-year exams. Particularly noteworthy are Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Miss Padma Patil and Mr Malfoy, all of whom did very well. Miss Bones and Mr Zabini follow at some distance, but not too far, and I would imagine that with more experience and confidence they will catch up with the top next term. Miss Bones' progress in particular is truly remarkable when you consider where she started at the beginning of the year and where she is now. So have many of the other students."

"That's mainly because, for the first time in their time at Hogwarts, they have a competent Defence teacher," Minerva said with a gentle smile.

Severus snorted, but Remus returned her words with a smile of his own. "I'm just helping them realise their own potential. But yes, I am very proud of them all. The only ones who fell short of expectations and will have to do extra work over the summer to pass are Slytherin students Mr Goyle and Mr Crabbe. I've already sent the essay topics to Severus for coordination, because from what I've heard, I'm not the only one who has to do this."

Severus snorted again, but didn't answer. But if looks could kill, Remus would have turned to dust by now, Albus feared. Sometimes he wondered if the most childish people in a castle full of children weren't their teachers.

"Thank you, Remus," he said. "Would you like to continue then, Minerva?"

"Yes," his deputy said. "First, I must echo an assessment of Remus's that we are likely to hear more of today, and have heard for the past two years. And that is that Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass are the two best students in the year. This is nothing new, and I have long since resigned myself to the fact that I probably bore them with my normal lessons, but their performance in the end-of-year exams has once again surprised me, even though I no longer thought it possible. Not only did they turn teapots, cups and spoons into animals, each unique in colour and shape of scales, thickness of fur and build, with a flick of their wands, no, Miss Greengrass's animals could even quote Shakespeare fluently! And Mr Potter almost turned my desk into a dinosaur if I hadn't stopped him. A dinosaur! I don't think I need to say how remarkable such magical feats are, especially at that age and after all the trouble with Black."

Minerva shook her head briefly, as if at a loss for words. "I've even checked the school archives. The last people to achieve such feats as third years were a Tom Riddle in the forties, long before my time, and, well, you, Albus."

Albus winced at the comparison. It was probably an obvious comparison to make, but he still hoped that they would fare better in their later lives than he had. After all, they had each other and had been each other's support and friend even before they had become romantically involved. This promised a strong foundation for their future.

But with these thoughts, another scenario formed in Albus' mind. What if he and Gellert had already met at school?

Minerva's voice snapped Albus out of his thoughts, which were going nowhere anyway.

"But to continue, we have other students. Miss Patil, the one from your house, Filius, and Miss Granger have confirmed their very good performances from the first two years, and Miss Davis has continued her extremely positive development, even surpassing Miss Granger in the practical part this year. Miss Granger, however, continues to write the most in-depth and detailed essays and was the only one, apart from Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass, to achieve full marks in the written examination. Mr Longbottom also continued his positive development from last year. Mr Goldstein, on the other hand, who was one of the best last year, lost a bit of concentration towards the end of the term after he started dating Miss Turpin, but we all know that well enough."

Another laugh went round the table and Albus smiled too. Yes, it was amusing every year to watch the students gradually discover the benefits of the opposite sex. Or sometimes the same sex. And how that always seemed to affect their academic performance. Ah yes, youth.

"Otherwise, the normal fluctuations and performances you'd expect from them," Minerva continued. "Some have improved, some have fallen behind, some have noticed which areas of Transfiguration suit them more and which less. Nothing of particular interest for this round, but I will keep in touch with the students as appropriate, tightening the reins where necessary and encouraging where it makes sense. As Remus mentioned, Slytherin students Mr Goyle and Mr Crabbe, also in Transfiguration, failed their exams at the first attempt and will have to do extra work over the summer. I am also in contact with Severus about this." Minerva had said the last two sentences with an unmistakable look of smug satisfaction on her face.

"Thank you for that informative overview," Albus said. "Filius, would you like to continue?"

The smallest Hogwarts teacher straightened in his chair. "I'm having déjà vu, because I have the feeling that I've heard what Minerva has just said some time in the last few years, and my following words also sound very familiar. But there is no other way to put it than that Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass are two incredibly talented and, it seems to me, extremely ambitious wizards. In this they are similar, or perhaps influenced by each other, but it is also interesting to note the differences between them. Both are elegant and very effective in their magic, but Mr Potter's spells are more direct, more resounding, filled with more magical power, for lack of a better term, if you know what I mean. Miss Greengrass' magic, by comparison, is more detailed, more patient, more graceful. Even though they both end up with the same result, the different paths are clearly visible. If you'll allow me a historical analogy: If the challenges of magic were a Gordian knot, Mr Potter would probably be Alexander, while Miss Greengrass would probably take great pleasure in untying the knot piece by piece, simply to show that she could accomplish this most challenging task."

That was indeed a very apt analogy between the two, Albus thought. He knew how vain Daphne could be. She was a brilliant witch and she wanted the world to know it. Harry, on the other hand, was not without a certain arrogant exuberance, as all young people and many older people are, but he was goal-oriented and could be counted on to find unconventional ways to achieve his goals. Defeating a giant Basilisk when he himself was only a small bird spoke volumes, though admittedly a cursed diary had also played a part.

At the thought of the Horcrux, Albus felt that familiar, painful tug again. Soon it would be evening again and he would have to continue his battle with Tom. It would be a long, gruelling process, but there was no alternative.

"But to make a long story short," Filius continued. "Those two were by far the best in Charms again this year. In fact, the best I've ever had the pleasure of teaching. Since that probably won't surprise any of you, let me move on to the other students. Miss Granger also wrote the best essays in my class and scored an unprecedented one hundred and twenty percent in her written exam." He chuckled softly. "And she also excelled in the practical exam, getting a straight O. If it weren't for Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass, she would be the undisputed top of the class in my subject. She also seems to have a positive influence on those around her, as I have also seen a marked improvement in the performance of Mr Weasley, Miss Parvati Patil and Mr Longbottom this term. Mr Longbottom, in particular, has continued the positive development he began last term. I would also like to mention Miss Davis, Mr Bott, Miss Li and Mr Malfoy, who have all shown promising magical abilities. I am in close contact with all of them to encourage and challenge them further. Behind them, most of the students performed reasonably well overall, without anyone standing out, although I, like Minerva, have noticed that the children of the last two years have begun to become pubescent teenagers, with all that this entails."

Again, some of the teachers around the table smiled to themselves. The eternal cycle of a school, arguably.

"Mr Goyle and Mr Crabbe, on the other hand, passed their exams by the skin of their teeth. Therefore, they will not have to do any extra homework over the summer, but I have instructed them to review the material so that they don't fall behind next year. Severus has assured me that he will see to it that they do so."

Severus gave an almost imperceptible nod. "They will, I will make sure of that."

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said. "If you think I can help in any way, let me know."

"I don't think that would be helpful, Headmaster," Severus said. "You're not exactly popular with Goyle and Crabbe senior, and it's rubbing off on their sons."

Albus nodded. That didn't surprise him. He turned to the next in line. "Pomona, what are your impressions and observations this year?"

The Hufflepuff Head of House leaned forward as she nodded thoughtfully. "Most of you are probably wondering if Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass have confirmed their excellent performance in the other subjects in Herbology. Well, they're very good students and their grades are very good, but they're not naturals and I don't think they see their calling or future in this field either, but that's okay. It would probably be scary if they were such overachievers here too." She smiled gently. "Actually, it's almost funny to watch them in class, because objectively they do everything right, make every movement mechanically correct and at the right time, and work the plant magic like a textbook, but you can also see that their hearts aren't in it, and that's crucial in Herbology. No, the best Herbology student this year is once again Mr Longbottom, followed by Miss Granger and Miss Bones."

"Is Miss Bones feeling better?" asked Minerva. "I got the impression that meeting her aunt when she was at the castle took a lot out of her."

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," said Pomona. "I don't know what words were spoken, but one of her roommates told me that Susan returned to the dormitory late that night with tears streaming down her cheeks. I had to stop myself from writing a long letter to Madam Bones telling her what I think of her parenting methods." Pomona shook her head. But when she looked at them again, a smile played around her lips. "But guess what I saw the next evening when I walked into Greenhouse Seven?"

"Plants?" said Severus, but no one paid him any attention.

"Miss Bones in an intimate embrace with Mr Longbottom," Pomona said, her smile widening. "Their faces were both bright red and it was obvious they had just kissed before I came in." Pomona laughed, and she wasn't the only one. "It looked really sweet. Oh, if only they'd done that a few months earlier, I'd be a few Galleons richer now."

Minerva smiled. "Thanks again for the gold. It's been invested in delicious Ginger Newt biscuits."

"I'm certainly glad that the two of them can support each other like this," Pomona continued. "After all, we've talked in the past about how they probably don't have it easy at home and that there are great expectations of them."

Albus nodded at her. "I am glad to hear that too. And what about the other students?"

"A similar picture to previous years and the others too. On a positive note, I would like to mention Mr Weasley, Mr Thomas, Miss Abbott, Mr Macmillan, Miss Li, Miss Padma Patil, Miss Davis and Mr Nott, who all did very well to good. This is followed by the majority of students who performed satisfactorily overall, without standing out as either positive or negative. Mr Goyle and Mr Crabbe improved a little after being on the verge of failing last year, but only a little. They will have to work very hard to pass next year, let alone pass their OWLs in fifth year."

"Severus, will you discuss this with them as well?" asked Albus. The Slytherin Head of House nodded curtly. "Thank you. Would you like to continue then?"

Severus pursed his lips and glanced around the table. "No change from the last two years. A mostly disappointing year, with only a few showing that they have the necessary skill, intellect and discipline for the art of Potions, and they all come exclusively from my house. Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, Miss Davis, Mr Nott and Mr Zabini deserve special mention. The rest of the Slytherins with acceptable performances. The rest of the year is better left in silence, especially the supposed prodigies, whose reality does not come close to their promise. In the end, arrogance cannot make up for mediocre talent and overconfidence. Apart from the fact that they shouldn't even be at this school anymore after what they did to young Malfoy and his friends last year. And I've only been confirmed in that opinion time and time again since then, but apparently I'm the only one of us who can see the truth..."

"We all seek the truth, but we only want to find it where it suits us," Albus said, making it clear that the discussion was over for him. Instead, he turned to the next person in line. "Now, before we get to the electives, which students have found happiness in the stars and moons this year, Aurora?"


The carriage rumbled down the street, accompanied by the steady "tock, tock, tock" of the Thestrals' hooves, now visible to Harry. It was the end of their third year, and so he was in the carriage with Daphne, Ron and Hermione, taking them to Hogsmeade station, where the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. Or in Daphne's and his case, Harry thought, just away from here.

As expected, they had done well in the end-of-year exams, more than well, for they were once again the best of the year. But at the same time, their achievements were still not enough. Not by a long way. They still had a lot to learn, a hell of a lot, so that they would never again find themselves in a situation where their magical abilities were insufficient. A situation like the one with Sirius, where Harry had not taken his training to master the Patronus Charm seriously for months and had therefore failed at the all-important moment...

Never again.

Never again would he let that happen.

Harry's eyes drifted to Daphne. His girlfriend sat with her shoulder against his, gazing thoughtfully, perhaps a little dreamily, out the window, the sun's rays shimmering off her pitch-black hair. Her voice still echoed in his mind as she revealed the full depth of her feelings.

I love you, Harry. With all my heart.

He had not yet been able to say the words back, nor had Daphne asked him to, but he would get there, of that he had not the slightest doubt. Just the thought of losing her... no, he didn't want to imagine that even for a moment. He couldn't bear it.

As if Daphne could sense his thoughts, she turned her head towards him. A subtle but reassuring smile played around the corners of her mouth. Gently, she squeezed his hand and that was enough to tell him all he needed to know. He returned the squeeze.

"Strange feeling that another year has gone by, isn't it?" Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She sat across from them, next to Ron, and let her eyes wander over their little group. "Somehow it's all gone by so quickly."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Oh, yes. It seems like only yesterday we were on the train for the Christmas holidays. But somehow I'm also looking forward to seeing Mum and Dad again. Speaking of Mum and Dad." Ron looked over at them. "They've invited you both to come and see us this summer. What do you think? There's also the Quidditch World Cup coming up, maybe we could go to a game together?"

"Sounds great," Harry said. "Let's see if we can make it work." Inwardly, he already knew they wouldn't come, but he didn't want to spoil Ron's joy just yet.

The rest of the carriage ride to the station flew by, and when they stepped out, they saw the Hogwarts Express in front of them, as sublime and majestic as the last time Harry had seen it, less than a year ago, when they had welcomed their friends back after the summer holidays. It seemed like a memory from another life.

Together with the crowd of their classmates, they walked towards the red and gold carriages. A loud whistle drowned out the sounds of laughter and chatter, and smoke rose from the chimney of the locomotive as it was prepared for departure.

A few metres ahead of them, Malfoy and his friends, including Astoria, boarded the train. But Harry paid them no further attention, although he noticed Daphne looking at her little sister, and at Tracey Davis who was walking beside the younger girl, helping her with her trunk.

A few paces away, Fred and George were engaged in a discussion with the station staff, apparently they had tried to smuggle several stink bombs onto the train, he also saw Neville holding his new girlfriend Susan as they both laughed happily, Seamus and Dean waving to them, Parvati and Lavender enjoying one last view of the castle in the distance.

The whole scene glowed with life and happiness. It was beauty. It was a dream.

"Are you coming, Harry?" asked Daphne. The others had already boarded the carriage, but she was still waiting for him on the steps, a knowing look on her pretty face.

Harry nodded. Then he boarded the train behind Daphne – knowing full well that he would return a villain.