Chapter Eleven – The Look in the Mirror
A thunderous snowstorm had descended upon the lands of Hogwarts, plunging the castle, already unloved by the light of winter, into an oppressive darkness. Oppressive, at least for most of the students. Harry, on the other hand, walked happily through the corridors, lit only by a few flickering torches. He had sat with Daphne in the Room of Requirement late into the night, so late that they had finally fallen asleep next to each other. But he was not tired. His body ached a little from the night on stony ground, but he didn't care. The pain would pass, but the certainty that last night had brought him would be with him for the rest of his life, of that he was certain.
Instinctively, he ran his fingers over the palm of his left hand. The wound had healed, but he still remembered how it felt when Daphne's blood had flowed over his skin and mixed with his own. A smile played on his lips. Yes, everything had turned out well in the end, and the future looked much brighter than he had thought possible yesterday.
Only one thing had gone completely wrong...
The smile faded from Harry's face as he approached the Transfiguration classroom. Outside, many of the other students were already waiting, and at the edge of the crowd were Ron and Hermione. They both looked up at him as he approached. He would make the first move, but no more. Then it was their turn.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," Ron replied.
They looked at each other unsure. Hermione bit her lip. She took a step forward, then stopped. She clasped her hands together, then unclasped them. Finally she said, "Hey, Harry."
"You didn't come back to the dormitory last night," Ron said. It wasn't a question.
"That's right," Harry said.
"Where did you go?"
"I was out. Clearing my head after... After what happened."
"With Daphne?" asked Hermione.
Harry raised an eyebrow. Hermione hadn't called her by that name since the beginning of term. "Yes, with Daphne."
Again there was silence between the three. An awkward silence, heavy with lost trust and guilt. Harry had thought he'd got used to the silence after those long nights in the cupboard under the stairs and it wouldn't bother him any more, but this silence hurt. He didn't miss the way the other students looked at him either. They reminded him a little of Aunt Petunia looking out of the kitchen window at the neighbours.
Finally, it was Hermione who broke the silence. "Harry... I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
Hermione bit her lip again. She looked past him to a spot on the wall, as if she couldn't bear to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. About you and Daphne. I understand you were just trying to protect her, like you would have protected me or Ron."
"Yeah, Malfoy's just an obnoxious bastard," Ron said. "And so are Crabbe and Goyle. They probably deserved what you did to them. I'm also sorry for what I said yesterday."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. A heavy weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. "It's all right. Friends forgive each other, don't they?"
Hermione gave him a somewhat forced smile and said, "Yeah, right."
Ron took a step forward and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate."
Harry nodded at him. He didn't think everything would be the same right away, but it was a start and he was glad for that.
Just then the door to the classroom opened and the students began to enter one by one.
"Let's go then," Harry said.
Along with the others, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the classroom and sat down in one of the middle rows. They had Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, but there were both Ravenclaws and Gryffindors staring at Harry.
"Hey, Potter," Antony Goldstein called from across the room. "Is it true that you and Greengrass are being charged with attempted murder by the Ministry?"
Before Harry could answer, Ron shouted back, "Do you really think Harry would still be sitting here then? Idiot."
"Enough, gentlemen," Professor McGonagall's imperious voice rang out. Their teacher walked into the room and in an instant, it was as quiet as a mouse. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley, for the insult. Save it for the holidays, but I don't want to hear that sort of thing in this castle, and especially not in this classroom. And, Mr Goldstein, five points from Ravenclaw for spreading false rumours. I will not tolerate that here either. Mr Potter will be at this school for at least another five and a half years, provided he passes his exams. That goes for all of you."
Professor McGonagall stepped to her desk and turned to them. "Let's continue. In the last lesson, you learned how to change the colour of an owl's feather. Today we will go one step further." She took a grey owl feather from her desk, pointed her wand at it, and said clearly, "Plumceava".
The feather grew darker, a little narrower and longer, until finally Professor McGonagall had a completely black feather in her hand.
"As you can see, I have not only changed the colour of the feather, but also its shape and texture. Those of you familiar with ornithology will notice that it is now indistinguishable from a raven's feather. In a sense, it is now a raven's feather, and only the practised eye with trained magical senses could tell that it was something else before. So this change of matter is much more profound than a mere change of colour. So what is the most important thing if you are going to try the spell yourself? Yes, Miss Granger."
A handful of hands had gone up in response to Professor McGonagall's question, but Hermione, as usual, was the quickest.
"Concentration and diligence," Hermione said. "According to Henot's Rules of the Order of Transfiguration, we must break the desired transfiguration into small parts and perform them one at a time to direct the flow of magic. That's why, in the last lesson, I started with the tip of the feather and worked my way up the shaft, step by step, in my mind, to end up with the whole feather recoloured."
McGonagall nodded in agreement. "You're quite right, Miss Granger. But when do you think we'll reach our limits with this approach?"
Hermione frowned. Harry knew her expression well enough to know that she was mentally going through the contents of her textbooks, searching for the answer. But he also knew that she wouldn't succeed, because it wasn't in the second-year textbooks. He raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr Potter," said Professor McGonagall.
"When we make changes to living things that go beyond mere cosmetic adjustments," he said. "For while it is still possible to break down the change in a feather, it is doomed to fail when it comes to organs such as the heart or the brain. Even if it happens in a tenth of a second, a living being cannot have half a brain."
"Very true, Mr Potter. Granted, this won't be relevant until much later in the curriculum, but in such a case, what do you think is necessary instead?"
"We must not try to direct the flow of magic as if it were a stream in a garden. Rather, we must release it. The magic must fully grasp the essence of the being to be transformed, touch it to its core and change it forever. To do this, we must be aware of the power of magic, but at the same time not be afraid of it."
"I see someone has been reading their Circe," said Professor McGonagall. "Most modern authors would probably put it slightly differently, but it is undoubtedly a fascinating subject for magical research. Let me know if you're more interested, Mr Potter, and I'd be happy to recommend other books on the subject. However, the transformation of living creatures will only come into play at a much later stage in your school career. Now, let's get back to the spell we saw earlier."
Professor McGonagall waved her wand and owl feathers flew to their places and rested on the desks in front of them. "Try the spell yourself. It is Plumceava. You will find it on page four hundred and ten of your book, along with other instructions for mental preparation and performance. Try it and see how far you get. I'm going to go through the rows and just watch for now. But don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions. In twenty minutes we will go through everything again together. You can start."
The students drew their wands, and a moment later the sound of wands waving and spells murmuring filled the room.
Ron leaned towards him. "How did you know that?" he asked quietly.
"Circe is one of Daphne's favourite scholars," Harry replied with a shrug.
Next to them, Hermione was already practising hard and had managed to get her feather to be raven black, but it was still an owl feather, you could see that, just in black.
Harry looked at his own feather in front of him. As he usually did when he was learning a new spell with Daphne, he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and felt for the magic inside him. By now this was as easy for him as flying his Nimbus on a calm, sunny day. A smile played on his lips as the familiar warmth took hold of him and began to spread throughout his body, from his heart to his arm to his hand and the wand inside it. For a moment he felt a tickle on his skin, the tickle of a feather, as in his dreams. His smile deepened. He let the magic burst out of him and said, "Plumceava".
When he opened his eyes again, there was a black, shapely, and somehow familiar feather in front of him.
"Very well done, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she walked over to their desk. Ron and Hermione nodded at him, impressed, and there was a look of envy on the faces of many of the other students. "I didn't think you'd have any problems with it when Miss Greengrass did it on the first try yesterday, well almost." She picked up the feather and looked at it thoughtfully. "How strange that you two made the same mistake. For this is a crow's feather, not a raven's."
Harry smiled innocently at his Head of House, ignoring the shadows that flitted across Ron and Hermione's faces at the mention of Daphne. "You don't say, Professor. That's really strange."
Privately, he could well imagine what the reason might be, and the thought made his heart beat faster.
"You two are an extraordinary duo," Professor McGonagall continued. "Extraordinary indeed. Well then, five points to Gryffindor for a nonetheless remarkable Transfiguration on your first attempt, even if you did get the bird wrong."
Around them, the other students resumed their exercises. Professor McGonagall, however, remained at their desk. She leaned over to Harry and said quietly, so only he could understand, "If you see Miss Greengrass later, which I have no doubt you will, tell her that you both need to see Professor Dumbledore at five. He is expecting both of you for your first detention with him. The password is the same as yesterday's."
"Um, Professor? Could you please tell me again what the password was yesterday?" At her questioning look, Harry continued. "I'm afraid I wasn't quite paying attention yesterday when Snape took us there."
An understanding smile formed on Professor McGonagall's lips. "Of course. The password is..."
"Treacle tart," Harry said, and the gargoyle turned aside to reveal the spiral staircase beyond. Harry and Daphne stepped onto the steps and the staircase began to move silently, taking them to the headmaster's office.
"I can't believe someone would choose Treacle Tart as a password," Daphne said. "I mean, can't you at least use something tasty?"
"Well, I like treacle tart."
"Well, there's something wrong with you."
The stairs stopped and they were now standing in front of the nondescript wooden door behind which so much had happened yesterday. They exchanged glances. Daphne took a deep breath before giving him a nod. Harry knocked on the door.
"Please come in," their headmaster's voice rang out.
Harry and Daphne entered the office, which looked much the same as it had the day before. However, it immediately seemed much more inviting when they weren't being forced in by a jeering Snape. The warm candlelight from the chandeliers under the ceiling bathed the room in an orange glow and even made the black-covered mirror next to Dumbledore's desk seem less threatening. This time, the space behind the claw-footed desk was not empty either, but occupied by Dumbledore, smiling at them. And beside him, on a golden perch, sat a phoenix, so sublime and magnificent in its red and gold plumage that you knew at a glance that you were dealing with a legendary creature. Harry's eyes widened in astonishment.
"The first sight of Fawkes never fails to impress," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "He would never admit it, but he enjoys the astonishment."
"You have a phoenix, Professor?" asked Harry, still a little incredulous. He had to pull himself together not to walk over to the phoenix, Fawkes, and look at him up close.
"Have? No, definitely not, because you cannot own a phoenix, Harry. They are the most freedom-loving and unbending creatures imaginable. And they live to be very, very old. So it would be much more accurate to say that Fawkes has me, for a period of his life." Dumbledore smiled into his white beard. "Above all, he has been a loyal friend to me through many adventures."
He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Please sit down. We have a few things to discuss."
Harry and Daphne sat next to each other. Outside, the storm had died down, as could be seen through the windows, giving way to a light snowfall. The snowflakes danced in an endless circle in the falling darkness. It was actually a lovely sight, inviting one to curl up with a good book in front of the fire –Harry still had a few books from the Restricted Section and the Room of Requirement in his bag that he hadn't finished yet. But these thoughts vanished from Harry's mind as quickly as they had come, because he didn't know what to expect from this meeting with their headmaster. He had helped them yesterday and over the summer, helped them a lot, but what would that mean for the future? They had to be careful.
"Have your classmates caused you any problems?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry shrugged. "There have been a few bad words, but everything seems to be going well."
At least with Ron and Hermione, he added to himself. He hadn't seen Oliver today and didn't feel like it. With Ron and Hermione, he at least knew that they were genuinely worried about him, even if they drew the completely wrong conclusions from their worries, but Oliver had just been a dick. Maybe he always had been. Well, he didn't care anymore.
"Mostly dirty looks," Daphne said. "I'm not going to win any popularity prizes in Slytherin anyway." A mocking smile curled her lips, accompanied by a hint of satisfaction in her voice as she continued. "And Malfoy and his two cronies took to their heels as soon as they saw me."
"It will be a while before your classmates can meet you again with an open mind. The events of yesterday will, I fear, linger for a long time."
"Then so be it," Daphne replied. She said no more.
Dumbledore looked at her with an intense look in his bright blue eyes, but finally he nodded slowly. "We cannot change what has happened, but we can learn our lessons. That is why I have decided that you will have detention with me. And do not think that I have missed your looks. I can only imagine that you would prefer to spend your time elsewhere, but sometimes the arrogance of youth has to come to terms with learning from the old."
"That's not true, Professor," Harry said.
"Right," Daphne said, nodding quickly. "You are a powerful wizard, Professor, perhaps the most powerful since Merlin himself. We have much to learn from you."
"Learn, you say, Daphne? What would you like to learn from me? Powerful spells, ancient magic, the knowledge of three thousand years of wizardry? Surely I could teach you much of that, but I wonder if I would not only fuel the fire within you. Don't think I haven't noticed the rings on your fingers."
Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"Friendship–" he began, but Dumbledore cut him off immediately.
"Please, Harry, do not shame me with this lie. We both know those are not friendship rings you wear. But what, I wonder, could two children like you hope to gain by dabbling in blood magic?"
Harry's heart beat wildly in his chest. He exchanged glances with Daphne. He could see her mind working behind her amber eyes.
"To..." she began slowly.
"To become Animagi," Harry finished. An idea had come to him.
The answer seemed to surprise Dumbledore, for he slumped back in his chair. But his eyes were still on them. "Animagi?"
"I've read that it's a way to get closer to your Spirit Within," Daphne said.
"It is, but it is not one of the usual ways, quite the opposite," Dumbledore said. "It is a long and painful path, if I remember correctly, and few manage to complete it. After all, why inflict pain on oneself when there are far less cruel ways to achieve the same result?"
A new smile played around Daphne's lips, a smile that seemed friendly on the outside but was driven by cold calculation on the inside, as Harry knew only too well. A comforting shiver ran down his spine. This could be interesting.
"But it's the only way that doesn't involve a wand. And I didn't have a wand before Hogwarts."
"You started before Hogwarts?"
Daphne nodded. "And I think I'll have it down soon enough..."
Dumbledore stroked his long white beard as his eyes settled on Harry. "And you, Harry?"
"I wanted to try it too when Daphne told me about it," he said, and only ten years of intense training with the Dursleys kept him from grinning all over his face. They were not lying, and yet they were hiding the truth in all its fullness.
Silence fell over the room. Dumbledore had slumped into his chair, looking like the old man he was as he continued to stroke his beard, deep in thought it seemed. Fawkes had tucked his head under his wing and was asleep. Some of the portraits on the walls did the same, but more of them watched them with curious eyes as they listened to the conversation.
"Perhaps I should have known," Dumbledore finally said, his voice so low that Harry almost didn't understand it. "Like father, like son..."
"What do you mean, Professor?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore winced, as if he had forgotten they were with him. He gave Harry a strained smile. "Just reminiscing, Harry. I was thinking of your father."
Harry suddenly had a strange feeling inside, as if his stomach was being stretched and squeezed at the same time. "What ... Why?"
"Your father also set himself the goal of becoming an Animagus when he was young, and eventually succeeded. He was only a few years older than you are now."
The strange feeling inside Harry vanished, replaced by a comforting warmth. He began to smile. Then he felt a hand in his own. Daphne squeezed his hand and gave him a warm smile as well, this time genuine, no lies or deception.
His father had been an Animagus! Now he was even more eager to complete his own transformation. He would succeed and make his father proud!
"I take it you have studied this closely?" said Dumbledore. "The rings on your fingers suggest no other conclusion."
"Yes, we store the life power released by our pain," said Daphne. "Wearing them close to our bodies strengthens our connection to our inner magic."
"Then you know the dangers of doing so?"
Daphne opened her mouth and Harry noticed that at the last moment she stopped herself from clicking her tongue. Instead she nodded. "We've read about it."
"But do you understand it?"
"What do you mean, Professor?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore sighed. "Blood magic is like fire. Useful, no doubt, to achieve certain goals, to keep you warm or to light your way, but you can also burn yourself with it."
"That's true of all magic," Daphne said.
"But not all magic is capable of setting your very soul on fire. Blood magic, you must always remember, exposes your innermost being, not just your Spirit Within, to which you must connect to find your Animagus form, but everything that makes you human, the person you are. With all your dreams, your fears, your worries. All your feelings, good and bad." Dumbledore looked at them over the rim of his half-moon glasses. "Do you not find it strange that you were so out of control yesterday? Oh, I'm sure you wanted revenge on Messrs. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, especially you, Daphne, but was that desire perhaps fuelled by the embers of your burning souls?"
Harry resisted the urge to turn to Daphne, too afraid that the movement would betray them. He also resisted the urge to shout at Dumbledore that he was wrong. Maybe he was even right, at least partly, but it didn't matter. No matter how he turned it, he always came to the same conclusion: What they had done yesterday had been without alternative. They had had no choice, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had more than deserved it. It had felt good, too.
Daphne was silent too, and so Dumbledore finally continued.
"Unfortunately, the world is a much crueler place than we would like it to be, and much harm has already been done to both of you. I want you to be able to live in peace and quiet in the future, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen." For a moment, Dumbledore's gaze wandered to the cloaked mirror, but only very briefly, before turning back to them. He took a deep breath and went on. "But I'm afraid that won't be the case. You will often find yourself in situations where you will be angry, upset, and desperate. Situations in which the power of magic will be so tempting that it could sweep away all your problems, especially since, if I am to believe my teachers, you are already the most gifted and ambitious students they have ever seen. Certainly the most gifted in over fifty years."
"What are you getting at, Professor?" asked Daphne cautiously.
"There will be many situations in your lives when it will be tempting to do as you did yesterday and give in to the temptation of magic. That is why I have told you that we will work together to tame the untamed magic within you. Have you two ever heard of Occlumency?"
"I've read about it and I'd like to learn it," Harry said.
Daphne added, "I learned some basic exercises as a child. Mainly to recognise and block a mental attack. But I resolved to learn more one day."
"That time is now," Dumbledore said. "Occlumency is primarily for blocking mental attacks, you are right about that, Daphne, but it can do more than that. If you use it properly, you can also use it to order your thoughts and control your emotions instead of being controlled by them."
"And you're going to teach us that?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I will give you pointers and perhaps a nudge in the right direction. I will not, however, be able to do the actual learning for you, for that is very individual and personal. But we will meet here regularly to share your progress."
"That's all?" asked Daphne, confused. "You won't stop us from continuing? Or inform the Ministry?"
"Would it make any difference if I told you to stop?" Dumbledore smiled at her. "You need say nothing, I too was once your age and had an unquenchable thirst to fathom the mysteries of magic and prove myself. The arrogance of youth, I suppose..." Dumbledore's smile turned wistful for a moment, it seemed to Harry, before he shook his head gently. "And shall I tell you a little secret? I cannot tell anything I have not heard." He put a finger in his ear. "Somehow there's been a strange whistling in my ears all day. Did you two say something?"
Harry grinned broadly. He opened his mouth when suddenly a loud whistling sound actually echoed through the room. It was hideous and crooked and made his hair stand on end. Steam began to rise from a silver orb on Dumbledore's desk.
"Albus? Albus, are you there?" came Professor McGonagall's voice from the orb.
Dumbledore put his hand on it and said, "Yes, Minerva?"
"It's happened again! You must come immediately! To the fourth floor!"
Quickly, Dumbledore stood up as if he were a younger man. Fawkes had also straightened up and spread his wings.
"Stay here, I'll be right back."
Fawkes cried out. He pushed himself off his golden perch and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder with a flap of his wings. There was a bang, a bright, fiery light, and Dumbledore and Phoenix were gone, nothing but flickering air where they had been a moment before.
Left behind were Harry and Daphne and the portraits of the former headmasters, deep concern on their faces.
"Wow," Daphne said.
"Wow," Harry agreed.
"Do you think something bad has happened?"
Harry shrugged. "It sounded like there was another victim. We'll know soon enough and there's nothing we can do about it now anyway."
"Hmm, hmm, hmmm." Daphne looked at him. A mischievous twinkle had crept into her golden eyes. "What do you think a wizard like Dumbledore would have hidden here?"
"Old books too dangerous to share with the public? Incredibly powerful magical artefacts? Love letters?"
"Eww," Daphne said, shuddering.
Harry laughed. "You heard him yourself. He was young once too."
"Still, he could be our grandfather." Daphne shook her head. Then she stood up. "Let's have a look around."
"Hey!" came the voice of one of the portraits, a bald wizard with grey hair sprouting from his ears. "You can't do that!"
Daphne clicked her tongue. "We're not going to break anything, don't worry. I'm just curious, especially what this is supposed to be. All this time my eyes have been on it, wanting to see it, like an itch you just can't get rid of ..."
With that, she walked over to the large mirror next to the desk.
"No!" several portraits shouted at once, and Harry jumped up as well, but Daphne had already reached out. She grabbed the black cloth covering the mirror and pulled it down.
In an instant, Harry's head was struck by a terrible pain, as if thousands of red-hot needles were piercing it. He screamed and dropped to his knees. He pressed his hand to his scar, which felt like it was on fire. Tears welled up in his eyes, but his gaze remained fixed on the mirror.
Dark shadows shimmered in the glass and moved. They were taking on colours and shapes. Harry could clearly see a man and a woman. The woman had long red hair and green eyes like Harry had seen a thousand times in other mirrors, and the man's hair was as black and dishevelled as his own. The two smiled at him ... but then their figures were suddenly torn apart. An abysmal laughter rang out, a laughter as if from the pit of hell. Where the man and woman had stood, a face now looked back at him. It was a white, snake-like face with two small holes where the nose should be and blood-red eyes.
The pain faded from Harry's consciousness, the only thing he felt now was hatred. A hatred that burned like liquid fire through his veins.
He straightened and staggered to the mirror where Daphne was still standing. Her eyes had glazed over as she stared into the mirror. Slowly, she raised her hand to touch it...
A fiery flash lit up the tower room, followed by a red one that hit Daphne in the back. She sank to the floor.
Harry whirled around. Dumbledore had reappeared exactly where he had disappeared, Fawkes on his shoulder and his wand still pointed at Daphne. Harry screamed and lunged at him, ready to rip his throat out, but another bolt of red lightning shot out of Dumbledore's wand and struck him in the chest. Harry's world plunged into darkness.
As Harry regained consciousness, he felt the warmth of a nearby fireplace. He could even smell the burning pine and hear the crackling of the logs. Every now and then one would crack. They were pleasant, soothing sounds, but what was not soothing was the fact that he could not move. He seemed to be sitting in a chair, but his arms and legs were bound with ropes. He opened his eyes, but the bright light blinded him. His eyes watered and were slow to reveal his surroundings.
"Careful, Harry," a familiar voice rang out, that of Professor Dumbledore.
Harry blinked. He was still sitting in Dumbledore's office, in the same chair he had sat in during their conversation. Next to him was Daphne, but she was still unconscious, her chest rising and falling gently. She was also strapped to the chair. The large mirror beside the desk was covered again. They were alone, except for Dumbledore, bent over the fireplace, and the omnipresent gazes of the portraits on the wall.
"I am glad and relieved that you have regained your senses," Dumbledore said. He turned to him and with a wave of his wand, Harry's bonds fell away.
At that moment, a jolt went through Daphne's body as well. She let out a soft moan and opened her eyes, blinking.
Harry jumped up. His eyes went black for a moment, but then he knelt before Daphne and held her hands. They were unnaturally cold. "Daph? Can you hear me, Daph? Are you all right?"
Daphne's eyes were fixed on him. Ugly red threads ran through the otherwise pristine white, spiderwebbing around her golden irises. But she smiled weakly at him. "I ... I'm fine."
"You're lucky I got here in time, or you wouldn't be able to say that now," Dumbledore said. He walked over to them and handed them two cups of hot chocolate.
Daphne's bonds fell now as well. Gratefully they took the cups and began to drink. The chocolate did them good and a pleasant warmth spread through Harry.
"What ... what happened? What was that?" he finally asked when he had finished his drink. His left hand pointed to the cloaked mirror. His right hand was still holding Daphne's, which had also grown warmer. Neither made a move to let go of the other's hand, they were still too shaken up by what had just happened.
"The remnants of a foolish plan," said Dumbledore, who had resumed his seat behind his desk. "It was my mistake to put you in such danger, a mistake I will not repeat, I promise you." He hesitated for a moment and then asked, "What did you see when you looked in the mirror?"
"I'm not sure," Harry said. "I think ... I think I saw my parents..."
Dumbledore leaned forward and Daphne squeezed his hand even tighter, so tight it almost hurt, but Harry was grateful for it.
He continued in a shaky voice. "But... I didn't see them for long. They were torn apart and then I saw a face and heard a laugh, an evil, horrible laugh. It was Voldemort, I'm sure of it. I just know it was. And all the time my scar was hurting..."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry. The mirror shows terrible things because an evil spirit is trapped in it." Dumbledore looked at Daphne. "What did you see, Daphne, if I may ask?"
But Daphne just shook her head. "You may not. But I ask you, why do you have such a terrible and dangerous artefact in your office at all?"
"To stop an even greater evil..."
It was obvious that the Headmaster's answer did not satisfy Daphne's curiosity in the least, but something told Harry that they would get no more information from him.
"I would ask you not to tell anyone what has happened here," Dumbledore then said. "Not even your friends. Bad things could happen if this knowledge fell into the wrong hands."
Daphne clicked her tongue. "That won't be difficult. My only friend is sitting next to me."
Dumbledore's eyes fell on Harry.
"I won't tell anyone," he said.
"Thank you. It's getting late, so you'd better get back to your common rooms. I'll have something to eat brought to you."
Harry was glad to get out of here at last, but there was one more thing he wanted to know. "Professor, why were you called away earlier?"
Dumbledore sighed and his face became even more pained and worried, if that was possible. "Another petrified victim has been found. Sir Nicholas, the house ghost of Gryffindor..."
Soon after, as Harry and Daphne walked through the deserted corridors of the castle, the events in Dumbledore's office still hadn't left them.
"Daphne," Harry said.
"Hmm," his best friend replied, indicating that she had heard.
"What did you see in the mirror?"
Daphne looked at him. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"I thought we promised to always be there for each other. Nothing will ever change that."
Daphne sighed softly. Then she nodded. She tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear before she began to speak. "I saw blood. Blood-stained ashes and bones as far as the eye could see. It was a battlefield, and black crows circled above it. But I didn't just see it. It was as if I was standing there myself. I felt strong, like I would never have to be afraid again. It felt good..." She stopped and turned to him. "But Harry, why do I see this and you see your parents and Voldemort?"
Harry didn't know the answer to that either. Instead he took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. He kissed them and it was almost as if he could taste the blood that had run over her skin the night before, his own and hers.
"We'll find out together."
However, when they turned up for their next lesson with Dumbledore two days later, the mirror had disappeared.
At Hogwarts, the new petrification did at least ensure that Harry and Daphne were a little out of the focus of the student body. Who cared about the squabbles of a few second years, even if Potter and the Greengrass girl were lucky not to have been expelled, as Harry heard more than once in passing. But much more often now, the conversations among the students revolved around the question of what the hell could petrify a ghost.
Oliver and the rest of the Quidditch team still gave him the cold shoulder, but Harry was glad that he had made up with Ron and Hermione. The two of them even treated Daphne with a new-found politeness – he wouldn't say friendliness, because it wasn't sincere enough for that. Daphne, in turn, told him in a pleased tone that she was treated with a new respect, sometimes even fear, in the Slytherin dungeon. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle no longer bothered her, and Parkinson and her clique only gave her venomous looks for the time being.
"Poor Pansy," Daphne said during one of their meetings in the Room of Requirement, as they fought moving wooden dummies. One of the dummies had Snape's face on it. "You should have heard her whine about what we did to her dear Draco. They're engaged now, by the way." She laughed and dropped a swarm of termites on the dummy with Snape's face. "I'd offer my condolences, but she's actually happy about it! Well, those two are made for each other. But she made Davis switch beds with her so she'd be further away from me. As if that would help if it ever came to that."
In their next meetings with Dumbledore, the old headmaster continued to talk to them about history, philosophy, and the theory of witchcraft and wizardry, but most of their conversations revolved around the dangers of uncontrolled magic and how to control it. Harry and Daphne nodded and smiled politely, but secretly carried on as before. Why shouldn't they, everything had been going well so far, or so Harry thought as he fell into bed at night, exhausted from the day's exertions.
Dumbledore also referred them to a few books from his private library on Occlumency, which Harry and Daphne gratefully accepted. They had their secrets, and they knew the consequences would be devastating if they were revealed. And the experience of being possessed by the mirror, or whatever had happened in Dumbledore's office, and the desire never to let it happen again, had only strengthened their resolve.
So the last days before the holidays passed. Soon it was Christmas and Daphne had the most brilliant idea ever...
"Whoo-hoo!"
The wind hit Harry in the face with all its brutal harshness and cold, but he felt nothing but wonderful. He felt free, he felt alive, here on his broom, far, far above the lands of Hogwarts and the castle, which was still completely dark at this hour of the day. Above him stretched the cloudless night sky, in which thousands upon thousands of stars twinkled, the only witnesses to their morning escapade. And he was not the only one to rejoice.
"'Caw, caw, caw!" came the call of a crow beside him. It was a crow with golden eyes and plumage as black as sin.
The crow did a somersault in the air and Harry did the same. They both burst out laughing, Harry with his human voice and the crow with her caw. Flying together really was the best idea Daphne had ever had!
For a few moments they flew silently side by side, so close that Harry only had to reach out to stroke Daphne's feathers. Then Daphne turned her crow's head.
"Caw!"
She nodded towards a small clearing on the slope of one of the mountains that loomed to their left.
"Right!" Harry called back and together they made a sharp turn and flew towards the clearing.
Harry landed first. He jumped off his broom, turned, and just saw the outline of the crow blur, the black of her feathers fading and stretching like wisps of smoke in the wind. And then Daphne was standing there in front of him. His best friend was grinning at him.
Harry grinned back. "I fly faster than you."
"It's not the speed that matters." Daphne spread her arms and moved them up and down as if they were wings. "Oh Harry, when you have flown once, flown properly I mean, not on broomsticks or carpets or in the tin birds the Muggles use, but by yourself, then you will walk the earth forever with your eyes heavenward. For that is where you have been, and that is where you will always be drawn."
"If you want to fly like that, you need wings..."
Daphne lowered her arms. She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "That's true. But you can only earn them for yourself. I have another gift for you." With that, she reached into her robes and pulled out a box covered in red wrapping paper. "Merry Christmas, Harry."
Smiling, Harry took the present from her hand. Merry Christmas indeed. It had been exactly one year since they had met in the Restricted Section. Everything that followed had begun then. Well, it would only be exactly one year tonight, as Daphne would no doubt point out if he shared his thoughts with her. Harry chuckled softly.
"Is something wrong?" asked Daphne.
Harry just shook his head as he unwrapped the present. He opened the small box and a pair of glasses came out. They looked almost exactly like the ones he already wore, maybe a little less crooked, but just as plain. At least until you looked closer. Fine, very fine symbols were engraved on the frame, and Harry could clearly feel the magic as he picked them up. A pleasant tingling sensation ran down his skin.
"I wove the spells myself," Daphne explained. "They will never slip and will repel dirt and dust."
"Thank you, Daph. It really is a wonderful gift. I believe more and more that you will become a professional enchantress one day."
"So you like it?"
"And how!" Harry put on his glasses. They fit like a glove. "How do I look?"
"As silly as ever," Daphne said, but she smiled as she did so.
Now Harry also reached into his robes and pulled out a present. It was wrapped in emerald green wrapping paper.
"Oh, how classy," Daphne said. Harry handed her the gift and she quickly unwrapped it. It revealed a pair of dark leather boots that made Daphne's eyes widen. "Are they..."
"Yes, dragonhide boots," Harry said. "I think you said your old boots were getting too small for you."
Daphne beamed with delight. "Thank you, Harry. They're beautiful."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. Harry's blood rushed to his head and his neck suddenly felt quite hot, but at the same time he couldn't help but smile with satisfaction. He had obviously chosen the right gift. And Daphne's smile alone was more than worth the fifty Galleons the boots had cost; he'd never bought anything so expensive before, and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have done it for.
Then they sat down on a fallen log in the middle of the small clearing. The night was fading, its darkness swallowed up by the dawn. The wind carried a slight warmth as the sun rose over the mountain peaks, bathing the landscape in its golden light.
Harry sighed contentedly. "Thank you, Daphne."
"You've already thanked me."
"For the glasses, yes, but not for this." He gestured at their surroundings. "For all this. For this trip. For flying together. I can't wait to earn my own wings and take to the skies with you again, as your equal and your companion."
"That would be nice," Daphne said, squeezing his hand. "Do you think it will be much longer?"
"The dreams are getting more frequent. And just yesterday I found another feather in my bed. When I concentrate very hard and feel for my Spirit Within, with all that you have taught me, then ... then I can feel it, Daph! I can feel something inside of me wanting to break out. I can feel it reaching out to me, and I reach out too, I can feel it, on my fingertips, a tickling sensation, a soft sensation, and right, it feels so, so right." Harry gasped, he had spoken so quickly. "But then suddenly it's gone and I feel empty..."
Daphne squeezed his hand again. She put her other hand on his shoulder and smiled sympathetically at him. "You've come an incredibly long way in an incredibly short time. It took me years to get to where you are after only a year. You'll get there soon, I'm sure."
Harry smiled back. He was about to say something else when suddenly there was a crack in the undergrowth behind them. He jumped to his feet and Daphne did the same. They barely managed to get their wands out before a huge spider leapt out of the woods and headed straight for them. Hunger sparkled in its eight eyes and its pincers clicked to grab and devour them.
Harry and Daphne reacted instinctively, the result of countless practice fights between them.
"Stupefy!" they shouted. The rings on their fingers glowed and two stunners, enhanced by the life power of tortured animals, struck the spider in its massive body. But the spells only slowed the spider, not stopped it.
"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" More stunners hit the spider as it slowed and finally collapsed at their feet, its eight legs and pincers twitching weakly. It was defeated, there was no doubt about it. The adrenaline in Harry's body gave way to a surge of pride.
"Hah!" exclaimed Daphne. "You thought you could surprise us, didn't you, beast? But no, we will not be your prey today. On the contrary, you will be the one to pay for this insolence! Cruc–"
"No!" Harry shouted, grabbing Daphne's wand arm and shoving it down. "Are you mad! That's one of the Unforgivable Curses! It'll get you into Azkaban!"
"Only if you use it on people. And only if you get caught," Daphne said. But then she nodded. "Fine, let's not do that. Is there anything else you want to do with it? Store its life power?"
Harry shook his head. He just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. His stomach felt queasy and a painful sting shot through his forehead.
"Diffindo."
A beam of light shot through the air and hit the spider. Its head was severed and fell to the grass in front of them, its eyes empty and lifeless. Blue blood spurted from the carcass and some of it landed on Daphne's boots.
"Yuck!" she cried.
The sinking feeling in Harry's stomach disappeared as he laughed. Daphne's disgusted face looked just too funny as she hastily began to clean the boots with a spell.
"Don't laugh! This is all your fault!"
Harry just laughed harder.
The heels of Daphne's new dragonhide boots clicked loudly on the stone floor as she returned to the Slytherin common room a few hours later. She was almost there when she rounded the corner and was suddenly confronted by Crabbe and Goyle, their faces as hollow and stupid as ever. Maybe even stupider than usual, because when Daphne gave them her most hideous smile, they flinched briefly, but unlike usual, they did not immediately take flight.
Daphne frowned. Then it dawned on her. "Oh, by Morgana!"
In a few quick strides, she had closed the distance between them. Before they could react, she pushed them into a broom cupboard, which was fortunately right next to them, and slammed the door behind them.
"You idiots! You idiots! I never thought you could be so stupid!"
Crabbe and Goyle looked at her, stunned.
"Er, Greengrass," Goyle finally said. He exchanged glances with Crabbe. "Leave us alone? Yes, leave us alone! We have important things to do!"
"Shut up, you idiot! Important things to do, my arse. I never thought you would actually do it." Daphne shook her head in disbelief.
"You know who we are," Crabbe said, his voice so sharp that the real Crabbe would probably have cut his tongue with it.
"Well spotted, Granger. You are Granger, aren't you?" said Daphne. Crabbe's features hardened, but that was all the answer Daphne needed. She looked at Goyle. "And that's you, Weasley."
Goyle turned ashen, at least that was a familiar sight.
"How do you know about our plan?" asked Crabbe, aka Hermione Granger.
"Please, Harry told me about your stupid plan right away," Daphne said. She crossed her arms. "Using Polyjuice Potion to get into the Slytherin dungeon to interrogate Malfoy, really? You're lucky you ran into me. If Snape had caught you, you'd both be packing your trunks by now."
"You didn't have to pack your trunk either!" replied Goyle aka Ron Weasley.
Daphne gave him her sweetest fake smile. "Having Dumbledore's golden boy as your best friend has its advantages."
"Are you using him?" the transformed Granger asked coolly.
"Second smartest witch of the year, can you believe it," Daphne said with a roll of her eyes. "Only the weak let themselves be used. Do you think Harry is weak?"
"Of course not! I ..." The transformed Granger exchanged glances with the transformed Weasley, who seemed as clueless as she was. "Would we really have been caught?"
"Faster than you can raise your hand when a teacher asks a question. Even now, you look far more clever than Crabbe could ever hope to be. And you, Weasley, the real Goyle would have pissed his pants by now." Daphne wrinkled her nose. "But you still look like them, and I'm afraid I'll throw up if I stay in here with you any longer. So I'm going now. But I can only advise you: Stay here until the effects of the Polyjuice Potion have passed, and then take to your heels. I tell you again, Malfoy is not the Heir of Slytherin, nor anyone else you could fool with your masquerade. And if you don't believe me, believe Harry. You're his friends, aren't you?"
"Of course we are!" said the transformed Weasley.
"Then start acting like it."
Daphne turned and was about to open the door when the transformed Granger's voice rang out again.
"Greengrass... thank you. If we had really been caught so quickly, we would owe you a debt of gratitude..." You could hear in her voice how hard those words were for her.
"You're welcome," Daphne replied curtly. Then she walked out, finally able to breathe freely again.
What idiots. You owe me, Harry...