Chapter Twelve – Discoveries on Valentine's Day

A normal life, as a small part of the big picture. Isn't that enough for you?

"No, it's not."

You want more?

"Yes."

How much more?

"Until there's nothing left."

And what role does Harry play in these plans?

"He'll want the same."

Loud giggles snapped Daphne out of her morning ritual. She looked past her reflection to her roommates at the other end of the room, getting ready for the day. And it wasn't just any day, as their conversation showed.

"The finest restaurant in Diagon Alley," Pansy said. "Draco says his father had to get special permission from Professor Snape for us to leave the school."

"Oh, how romantic! I'm so happy for you," Millicent said.

Tracey nodded eagerly. "You so deserve a good night out. You both do!"

Daphne rolled her eyes as she continued to comb her hair. It was Valentine's Day and Pansy had done nothing all morning but talk about her date with her fiancé. Daphne felt sorry for the other diners who had to watch this horror show. She would probably choke on her food herself.

"Oh yes, especially after all the horrors we've been through," Pansy said. "Draco and I are just relieved that –"

Daphne couldn't hold back any longer. She snorted, and instantly the voice of her most hated roommate died.

"Is something wrong, Greengrass?" asked Millicent coldly.

Daphne shook her head. She put the brush down on the dressing table and stood up. She turned to face the three girls, whose gazes were just as fixed on her, Millicent's annoyed, Pansy's full of disgust and hatred, and finally Tracey trying to imitate the looks of the other two as best she could. She almost succeeded.

"I just thought it was funny..." said Daphne, pointedly stretching.

"What?"

"Oh, all that," Daphne said, shrugging her shoulders. "This self-pity. This closing your eyes to reality, and" – her eyes fell on Tracey – "this pathetic pandering."

"You're just jealous," Millicent said.

Her words drew a dry laugh from Daphne. "Jealous? What have I got to be jealous of?"

"You're bitter, Greengrass," Pansy replied in place of her friend, who immediately retreated into the background like the submissive sycophant she was. Pansy wrinkled her nose as if looking at a spot of cat shit on the floor. "Draco reached out to you and made you a wonderful offer, but you turned it down and now you're left with no family, no status, no future. Are you even allowed to call yourself Greengrass anymore, or do you have to find a new name? Daphne, the shame of her family. Daphne, the outcast. Daphne, now dependent on the charity of a filthy half-blood."

"All that still sounds much, much better than Pansy Malfoy," Daphne said, shuddering. "And Draco's wonderful offer, would you have taken it, Bulstrode, Davis? Or did you have a shred of self-respect left?" The two girls were silent, but their looks were answer enough for Daphne. "I thought so. And you know, Parkinson, being cast out of my progenitors' family is the best thing that could have happened to me. Because now I'm finally free!"

"Free to do what?"

"Whatever I want!"

With that, Daphne spun around and headed for the door, the heels of her boots clicking loudly on the stone floor. With a wave of her wand, her bag flew after her.

"Hah!" shouted Pansy behind her, "Let's talk again in a few years. You're nothing, Greengrass, and I bet even your filthy half-blood friend won't last much longer with you!"

Daphne waved over her shoulder, then she was gone. Behind her, the door slammed shut with a loud bang. Daphne's heart beat faster than she would have liked.

What a pain. Do I really have to go through another five and a half years of this?

In this gloomy mood, Daphne crossed the common room, populated as always by ignorant, stupid, and obnoxious grimaces, and stepped out into the torch-lit dungeon. The other corridors of the castle were also lit by torches and candles, for it was still pitch black outside at this time of year. Still, any darkness would have been better than what awaited Daphne when she entered the Great Hall a short time later. She fought not to throw up on the spot. The walls of the hall were decorated with soft pink flowers, heart-shaped confetti rained down from the artificial sky and, worst of all, there was a sweet smell in the air, as if someone had sprayed buckets of perfume.

"What's all this?" she asked as she sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table. As usual, Weasley and Granger sat across from them. She gave them a curt nod, which they returned just as curtly.

"Lockhart," Harry said as if that one word explained everything, and somehow it did. Daphne groaned in annoyance. Not only were they learning nothing in his classes, but now this caricature of a teacher was annoying them in their free time as well.

"I think it's quite romantic, actually," Granger said quietly. A pink blush spread across her cheeks. "Well, I'd be happy if one of the Cupids gave me a rose."

Harry and Weasley exchanged a look of disbelief, and Daphne had to use all her good manners not to snort loudly again. So, after Pansy and Co, now Granger. What had got into them?

"A rose?" asked Weasley. "Why a rose?"

"Some girls think it's romantic," said Daphne. With a wave of her wand, the heart-shaped confetti on the plate in front of her burst into flames. She grabbed some toast and jam and started to eat.

Suddenly she felt Harry's hand on hers. He pushed her hand under the table and leaned over to her. On the other side of the table, Weasley and Granger were engaged in a heated discussion about the meaning of Valentine's Day or whatever and weren't paying any attention to them.

"Your ring has got even darker," Harry whispered to her. "If you keep it up, it'll soon be as black as your hair."

"Yeah, so?" Daphne whispered back just as softly.

"Aren't you worried? About Dumbledore? We have our next meeting with him tomorrow."

"Honestly? No, I'm not. You've got him so wrapped around your finger, he'll believe anything we say."

"We're playing a dangerous game, Daph. We have to be careful not to burn our fingers."

Daphne squeezed his hand. "If you want to shine, you have to burn yourself sometimes. But we'll be fine, Harry. As long as we're careful."

Harry gave her a brief nod before they both turned back to their breakfast. Harp music began to play from somewhere and Daphne suddenly lost her appetite. She just hoped it wouldn't go on like this all day...

Harry was having one of the worst days of his life. All day long, dwarves dressed as angels – the Cupids Lockhart had announced – burst into their classes and delivered valentines. Much to the annoyance of the teachers and most of the other students.

Hermione was a little disappointed that she hadn't received one yet, but Harry was relieved. His joy, however, only lasted until the afternoon. He was walking through the entrance hall with Daphne, Ron, and Hermione when a particularly grim-looking dwarf called out to him, elbowing his way through the crowd.

"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!"

Harry turned to run, but Ron grabbed his arm and held him tight. He grinned at him. "Oh no. You won't spoil our fun."

Harry wanted to curse his friend. The eyes of dozens of students, including Seamus, Dean, Ginny, and many other Gryffindors he would see every day for many years to come, were on him as the dwarf reached him. Fred and George had brought out parchment and ink, no doubt to write down every word and taunt him with it later. For a moment, Harry was tempted to curse the dwarf instead of Ron, but that would have been a stupid idea. Too many witnesses.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," the dwarf said, plucking at his harp, finally breaking Harry's nerves.

"I'm warning you," he growled.

"Don't be like that, boy," the dwarf countered with a grin that showed dark yellow teeth. "It's a nice song." And so he began to sing in a crooked voice:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine,

he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

Peals of laughter erupted around them. Fred and George had tears in their eyes from laughing. Even Hermione put her hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Harry felt an odd mixture of shame and anger. His fingers fumbled for his wand, but they couldn't seem to decide whether to turn the ground into quicksand for him to sink in, or to hex the dwarf out of existence.

Other fingers weren't so inhibited. While Harry was still fumbling for his wand, Daphne had already drawn hers and pointed it at the dwarf.

"You think that's funny, you runt?" she asked. "I'll show you what's funny. Algo!" A bolt of purple lightning shot out of Daphne's wand and hit the dwarf on the bum.

"Ouch!" the dwarf cried and jumped up.

But Daphne wasn't done yet. "Dolus! Laede Basan! Tomerntere!"

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" the dwarf screamed as more lightning struck his back. He ran away, but Daphne ran after him, waving her black wand like a sabre in battle.

The hall erupted in laughter again, and this time Harry joined in. He laughed heartily for a few moments as he watched Daphne, then his heart suddenly stopped. For he had realised something that he should have realised long ago if he had been more familiar with all of this. But now that he had realised it, there was no denying it, and he could no longer close his eyes to the truth.

Damn, I have a crush on Daphne...

With a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction and a slight smile on her lips, Daphne walked back down the corridor towards the entrance hall. Her wand still felt warm from the many spells she had had to cast in pursuit of the dwarf. It was only when he had rejoined his colleagues that she had stopped tormenting him with her curses. Sure, she could have easily taken on a dozen or two of them, but that would have required a greater use of magic, and she didn't want to risk that, not two months after the events at the Dueling Club. She was no fool.

Her ring had also absorbed some of the dwarf's life power. Not enough to make it any darker, but it had become a little warmer on her finger. Most importantly, though, Harry had laughed. Heavens, whoever had sent Harry that message didn't know the first thing about him. She did, however, have an idea who this secret admirer might be...

Daphne paused. Perhaps it really was time to have a serious talk with the girl and make her understand the importance of personal boundaries. There was no doubt that things would end very badly if she didn't start letting go of Harry.

Yes, that would probably be best for all concerned. Daphne reached into her pocket and pulled out the Marauder's Map. She didn't have to search long. The inkblot with Ginny Weasley's name on it was just two corridors away in an abandoned classroom. She was alone, pacing the room. Well, that would make it easier, Daphne thought, because then she wouldn't have to deal with her annoying first-year friends. She still had bad memories of Colin Creevey, even though the boy had left them alone since the beginning of the school year.

As she approached the deserted classroom, Daphne slowed her pace. Something wasn't right. Although the Marauder's Map clearly showed that Ginny Weasley was alone in the room, her voice came through the closed door, though Daphne couldn't make out her words. Was she talking to herself?

"Exscultere," Daphne murmured, pointing her wand at the keyhole of the door. Then she put the wand to her ear, Weasley's voice coming out clearly, and listened.

"...Stupid idea, Tom! Stupid, stupid, stupid idea. I never should have listened to you!"

Who was Tom? Who was Weasley talking to?

"But what are you saying, Tom? I thought you were my friend?" Loud sobs filtered through her wand to Daphne. Apparently Weasley had begun to cry. "I thought we were... No! What are you doing? Get out, get out of my head! Get out, get out! You..."

From one moment to the next there was silence. Daphne's heart beat wildly in her chest, as wildly as perhaps she had ever felt it. Several moments passed in which she only listened, straining.

"Silly girl," Weasley's voice suddenly sounded again, but it was different. It sounded cold and hard, not at all like the voice of an eleven-year-old girl, although it was undoubtedly her voice.

Daphne just managed to duck behind the nearest corner as the door to the deserted classroom opened. Someone stepped out into the corridor.

The footsteps faded. Daphne peeked around the corner and saw Weasley walking away with determined strides. But that did not reassure her in the least. She still had goose bumps and her hair stood on end. Something was wrong with Ginny Weasley, that much was certain, and she would find out what it was. But she had to hurry.

Daphne reached for the familiar magic within her and changed into her crow form, as always a delightful and liberating feeling, but she was careful not to enjoy it too much. Instead, she soared into the air and flew after Weasley, far enough away not to be noticed.

She landed on the ornament of a pillar. Indeed, Weasley had not noticed her and was hurrying on through the castle. An ugly brown glow surrounded the girl's aura. Another oddity. She had never seen anything like this before.

Daphne let Weasley go for a while, then pushed off and, after a few flaps of her wings, landed on the next pillar. On and on they went. Weasley hurried through the castle, never stopping, and Daphne stayed close on her heels, always far enough away for Weasley not to notice her, but close enough not to lose sight of her. This became more difficult when they finally reached one of the flying staircases, but Weasley only took the stairs to the next floor, and just before she disappeared around a corner, Daphne had caught up with her again.

They were now on the second floor, passing the exact spot where the petrified Filch had been found on Halloween. Fortunately, there was no sign of his wretched cat, who had often stood guard here since then. Confused, Daphne watched as Weasley disappeared into the girls' bathroom, which every witch in the castle knew was haunted by the Moaning Myrtle.

And then it suddenly dawned on Daphne. Myrtle. Myrtle Elizabeth Warren. The Chamber of Secrets.

This could not be a coincidence!

Her little crow's heart beat faster and faster as Daphne flew to the door of the bathroom where Weasley had disappeared. The door was still ajar. She landed in front of it. For a moment she didn't know what to do, when suddenly there was a terrible hiss. Daphne's feathers ruffled. She knew that hiss all too well, Harry had used it time and again over the past few months. Parseltongue.

The thoughts in Daphne's crow's head raced, and she was already thinking about how to tell Harry about it – when suddenly a shadow appeared above her. She screamed and tried to change back, but it was too late. Her world was drowning in pain.

Harry ran through the castle as fast as his legs could carry him. He almost blacked out, so fast was he running, but he no longer cared about his own physical well-being, not since Professor McGonagall had told him that Daphne had been taken to the hospital wing, badly injured.

He ran and ran and ran. He had long since left Ron and Hermione behind. All sorts of thoughts swirled in his head in a never-ending whirlpool of worry. What had happened? How badly was Daphne hurt? Who was responsible? And why hadn't he been there to help her?!

Panting, he reached the hospital wing. He pushed the door open so hard that the crash must have been heard throughout the castle, but he didn't care. He burst in. He saw Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey standing in front of a bed covered by a screen. They seemed to have been talking before Harry had burst in and were now looking at him in surprise.

"Harry, you –" Dumbledore started, but Harry cut him off.

"Where is she?" he shouted. His eyes fell on the covered bed. His heart felt like it was being pierced by a spear of ice. "Is she, is she..."

"Daphne is fine, Harry," Dumbledore reassured him.

"And she'll make a full recovery, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey added. "And she won't suffer any permanent damage. See for yourself." She gestured to the bed behind them.

On shaky legs, Harry walked past them and then past the privacy screen. His heart was pounding, his heart was thundering, faster and faster and faster and faster. But it stopped abruptly when he saw his best friend. It was like a punch to the gut. Whether she was asleep or unconscious Harry couldn't tell, and that it was Daphne he could only tell because he had spent more time with her than with anyone else in the world. Her whole body was covered in white bandages, her face, her torso, her arms and legs. Only a few of her jet-black strands of hair peeked out from under the bandages, and what little he could make out of her face looked unnaturally pale, even paler than usual.

Harry would have collapsed on the floor if Dumbledore hadn't had the presence of mind to summon a chair behind him. Harry slumped into it. "What..." His voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone other than him. "What happened?"

"We don't know yet," Dumbledore said. "She was found badly injured outside the girls' bathroom on the second floor. She was barely conscious, but..." Here Dumbledore paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. "But there was a long trail of blood behind her."

She had tried to escape, Harry realised. With the last of her strength she had tried to get to safety, somewhere where she could be helped. And he hadn't been with her.

"Who attacked her?" he asked, the words more a mechanical movement than a conscious decision. Both Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey remained silent. "Please, I want to know..."

"The wounds are consistent with a predator, a predator with long claws," Dumbledore finally said.

Harry's body began to shake, driven by helplessness and rage. Whoever had done this to Daphne would pay!

He raised his hand and gently stroked Daphne's bandaged arm. He felt the warmth of her body under his fingertips and hoped that she too felt that she was not alone. Not anymore. And never again.

Harry remained seated at the side of Daphne's bed, and eventually Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey left him alone at last. He had the impression that Madam Pomfrey had tried to send him away, but Dumbledore had said something to her and she had fallen silent. It was unimportant and faded from Harry's mind as quickly as the daylight gave way to the dark night outside the windows. His eyes and thoughts were fixed on his best friend, who remained motionless in her hospital bed. For hours Harry sat there, his mind circling the same guilt-ridden questions over and over again.

It was well past midnight when a slight jolt finally went through Daphne's body. Her fingers twitched, a long breath escaped her thin lips, then Daphne opened her eyes. Their eyes met, gold and green united in the night, like two pairs of gems in a pool of pitch.

Harry jumped to his feet and went to fetch Madam Pomfrey, but Daphne sat up. Pain slid across her face, at least the part not covered by bandages. She bit her lips. "N-no," she said in a hoarse voice, as if her throat was sore. She coughed. "S-stay."

Harry sat down again. He took her hand and squeezed it, only lightly, afraid of hurting her. "I'm here, Daph. I won't leave, I promise."

"Are... are we in the hospital wing?" asked Daphne. She let herself sink back into her pillow, but continued to look at him. In fact, she had never taken her eyes off him.

"Yes, we are. You were brought here after ... After you were found..." His voice broke.

"That's good..." Daphne said, nodding weakly. "I was a bit worried there for a moment."

Harry laughed, more in relief than real joy. The answer was so Daphne. She had been attacked, badly injured and left in her own blood, and she had only been a bit worried?

"Daph, what happened?" he finally asked.

"Stupidity happened. I should have finished the bloody animal a long time ago..."

"What are you talking about?"

"That wretched cat."

Harry's eyes widened. "Mrs Norris did this to you?"

"The bloody creature surprised me when I was in my crow form." Daphne smiled weakly at him. "I think I'd better start at the beginning, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

He already knew that Mrs Norris, whatever her exact role had been, would pay with her life for what she had done to Daphne. Like a dark shadow, that thought rested on his troubled mind, and it grew more troubling the more Daphne told him.

She told him how she had overheard Ginny, how she had followed her to the bathroom on the second floor. She told him how she had heard the hiss and how Mrs Norris had surprised her and attacked her. She passed over the latter as quickly as if she had just stubbed her toe while getting dressed, silly, proud girl that she was. At least here and now, when they were both alone, she could admit her pain. But Harry knew his best friend well enough to know that she would see that as a weakness. A weakness she despised.

"I should have been there with you," he said when Daphne had finished. "I should have been there for you. Helped you, that's what I promised you."

Daphne squeezed his hand. "Don't blame yourself, my shining knight. I am not a princess to be rescued. And we've learned something important – Weasley spoke Parseltongue, I'm sure of it."

"You mean... the Chamber?"

"It's possible. After all, Salazar Slytherin is known to have been a Parselmouth."

"And Ginny opened the Chamber?" asked Harry, a little sceptically.

"Perhaps not willingly," Daphne said. "She seemed to be under some kind of spell. A dark brown light surrounded her aura. It was disgusting."

"Then we'll have to tell the teachers. Surely they can –"

"No!" Daphne cut him off. She straightened up again. "We don't even know if we're right yet. We need more information." She gasped and fell back onto the bed. Her face showed how much energy talking to him had taken out of her. "Please, Harry. I need this. This is my ... our chance to prove ourselves ... To shine ... like stars ..."

A sudden gentleness spread through Harry's eyes. "All right, I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Harry. I..." Daphne started, but then her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Harry got up and tucked her in before sitting back down beside her bed. Through the high windows of the hospital wing, the pale light of the moon shone on them both as if it were for them alone that night.

"Sleep, Daphne," he whispered. "You bloodied but unbowed crow. Rest and recover, and tomorrow we will take on the world." They would pay another visit to the bathroom on the second floor and uncover its secrets.

For a moment, Harry was overcome by a feeling of nausea, a tug deep inside him, followed by goosebumps all over his body.

We are such idiots...