The Professor
Given the fame he'd obtained as a babe, Harry had been fortunate to avoid the attention of the media throughout much of his life. Living with the Dursleys had served him well enough to keep him out of the spotlight, and much of his time in the wizarding world had been spent within the wall of Hogwarts.
It had helped that he'd found a way to bring the likes of Rita Skeeter to heel early into his fourth year when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, though now, the only thing shielding him from such attention was his ability to not be seen at a whim.
The photos printed in the various newspapers across Britain and beyond of the ghostly knights kneeling before him would haunt him for the rest of his days, but Harry knew it would be worth it if they haunted Tom Riddle and his ilk more.
Hero, saviour, valiant, brave…
All had been used to describe his deeds in the alley, his denial of the magic being his evidently having been unsuccessful. Some outlets had gone as far as to employ experts in the use of magic to attempt to explain what had occurred.
Some had been closer with their theories than Harry was comfortable, though, much to his relief, there had been no mention of the Hallows.
No, most had merely speculated that the magic Harry wielded was ancient in origins, or perhaps unique to himself. Neither of those theories were wrong in many ways, but he'd breathed an audible sigh of relief when none could draw conclusions.
What had happened, however, was that he had come under significant scrutiny, and many had been gathering in destroyed Diagon Alley for days after in the hope of catching a glimpse of him.
It appeared that his fame had reached new heights; something that disturbed Harry deeply.
Dumbledore had been little help.
'Such deeds are remembered for generations, Harry, and those written and recorded beyond. You saved many lives and conducted yourself in the way many expected of you. You were humble and you spoke of helping those who would undoubtedly need it. Your parents would be as proud of you as I am.'
There had been no reasoning with the headmaster, and Harry had simply handed the man the cup they'd retrieved from the bank and went on his way to seek shelter from the ensuing storm.
Not that he could truly escape.
Both Nicholas and Perenelle had made a point to visit him, both heaping their praise upon Harry as any proud mother and father would, mixed with a chiding from the woman who had not been satisfied until Harry had assured her he was fine.
Letters had been flooding in from people of all walks of life; business owners, journalists, and even those who merely wished to thank him for his intervention.
It wasn't that Harry didn't appreciate the sentiment, but it was something he could do without. He'd never been comfortable with his fame, and he had no doubt that whatever remained of his life would consist of awe-filled stares, pointing, whispering, and strangers approaching.
It was something he knew he would have to learn to deal, but he was not ready for that.
He would sooner without such status, though if it helped with the war effort, it was another burden he would learn to bear.
Harry sighed as he looked towards another stack of letters that had arrived only this morning. They were decreasing by day, but still they came.
Sirius, much to his appreciation, had opted to handle those pertaining to businesses reaching out to them for help.
Fudge had tentatively acknowledged that something was afoot but had denied the return of Voldemort. As such, his popularity had plummeted in recent days, and the man was seldom seen outside his office as he seemingly concocted a way to regain the popular vote.
It would be no good.
The damage was done and too many had witnessed what had occurred in Diagon Alley. If wizarding Britain had not been convinced of Tom's resurgence before, they certainly were now, and Fudge had squandered his one chance to redeem himself.
Ultimately, his refusal to accept what all others now knew would prove to be the catalyst for his downfall. It was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.
Even without the Minister's acknowledgement, his sheer denial to off monetary assistance to the affected businesses had all but turned the population against him.
'I'm afraid such funds do not exist.'
It was a pitiful excuse, and thus far, it was Sirius and the House of Black who was helping; a monumental task when the damage and fallout was considered.
In a bid to not be outdone, however, other prominent Lords and Ladies were coming forward to offer their own assistance, and Sirius had been attending several meetings the past few days at Gringotts, spearheading what would likely become a combined effort.
That only served to remind Harry of the one thing that had seemingly gone off without a hitch.
He had believed that retrieving the cup would be the most dangerous thing he would encounter that night, and though he had been wrong, it had still been the riskiest.
However, the goblins evidently remained clueless as to what had occurred and had simply attributed the damage in the bank to Bellatrix escaping to assist her master.
Nonetheless, they were furious.
They had lost a dragon and the Gringotts had been closed for several days whilst the goblins completed repairs and carried out their own investigation, of which nothing was mentioned publicly.
Harry had returned since, and though the guard had been increased significantly, and the expressions of the creatures were somehow less pleasant, he knew they had somehow gotten away with it.
Inadvertently, Tom's timing to carry out the attack may have been a factor in that, which only made it a more satisfying accomplishment for Harry.
Still, it was not a venture he ever wished to undertake again. Once in a lifetime was more than enough for him.
Checking the clock, he realised he still had time before he was set to meet Isabella. The girl had written to him only a few days prior, desperate to speak with him in person at a time and place of his convenience, though away from prying eyes and ears.
What she had to say, Harry didn't know, but she'd assured him it was of the utmost importance to both of them.
He'd opted to do so before boarding the Hogwarts Express, meaning that much of wizarding Britain, well the more prominent ones would be distracted with their children returning to school, giving Isabella a window to escape her home for a while unnoticed.
Nonetheless, Harry would be careful. Although he sensed no deception from the girl, or woman now since she'd reached her majority, he'd learned not to take any unnecessary risks.
Shaking his head, he leaned back in his chair and stretched.
As ever, he'd risen long before the sun to train, finish his packing, and re-read the considerably thicker letter he'd received from the school this year which contained his short book list, his teaching itinerary, and the additional responsibility of being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.
Harry knew that the position was an honour, and he felt such being given it, but he could not help but lament on how different it would be this year. Without the twins, Angelina, and Alicia, Quidditch would not be the same, and the task in filling those slots would be a feat in itself.
Not that he would shy away from it. James Potter and many others Harry had come to respect had held the position and he intended to do it justice, despite the differences it would bring.
He'd been proud of both Angelina and Alicia for having been given spots on the reserve team of the Holyhead Harpies, both having written to break the news to him. Fred and George, as expected, had turned down the offered positions with the Falmouth Falcons in favour of opening their shop.
They had done so only the previous week to a roaring success, being only temporarily set back by what had occurred in Diagon Alley.
It brought a smile to Harry's lips.
He had grown fond of Fred and George over the years. They were pranksters and mischief-makers, but undoubtedly some of the kindest people he'd met, and he could truly think of nothing more worthwhile to have done with the winnings from the tournament.
Katie would certainly have approved of his decision to help them.
Shaking his head as he realised what little time he had remaining had ebbed away, he activated the additional protections he'd included around his home before taking his leave, wrapping his cloak around himself and apparating to a carefully selected spot in muggle London, away from King's Cross station.
A pale and restless Isabella was already waiting for him, pacing back and forth in front of the Horniman Museum where no self-respecting Death Eater would be found.
As far as London went, Forest Hill was something of a quieter area comprised of mostly small businesses, bars, and restaurants. Dudley had come here on a school trip once and had bemoaned how boring it was.
For Dudley, boring had always meant too quiet, perfect for a clandestine meeting.
"To the gardens," Harry murmured, jolting Isabella from her thoughts.
He'd arrived the day before to prepare an area they could talk without being disturbed. A few Muggle-Repelling and Obscuring Charms would be sufficient, and the part of the gardens he'd chosen gave him an excellent vantage point to watch for any potential threats.
Judging by the relief etched into the girl's features, however, Harry suspected the measures would be unneeded. Isabella was close to tears, her blue-grey eyes brimmed with them as she offered him a watery smile.
"Thank you for coming," she offered sincerely. "I'm sorry I didn't know what was going to happen in Diagon Alley. I didn't know until my father returned. He was furious, and scared."
"I can't say I feel any sympathy for him."
"I don't either," Isabella assured him. "I worry for my mother, Harry, and Theo."
She choked as she spoke the name of her younger brother.
"Theo?"
Isabella nodded.
"I need to tell you something and I need you to help me, Harry. Please, I wouldn't ask, but he's my brother. He's not like my father."
Harry frowned and gestured for the girl to continue, his eyes narrowing in irritation as she spoke.
(Break)
He walked with purpose through the carriages of the old steam train, standing tall, proudly as he peered into each compartment, sneering at the various occupants. They were beneath him, all of them.
'I have a task for you, Draco, one of such importance that I would only trust one with the name Malfoy complete successfully. Are you ready?'
The corner of his lips quirked as he spotted Nott; pale and unsettled. The boy would have to get a grip on himself if he was to assist him ably. Draco would not fail because Theo proved to be a weak link in his endeavours.
"Nott," he greeted the boy as he entered the compartment, closing the door behind.
Theo merely nodded in response, swallowing deeply.
"I'll assume you already know what we are to do."
Nott nodded once more.
"Good," Draco declared.
"I don't like it," Nott murmured. "We are going to be killed and if you think he gives a shit, you're deluded."
Draco narrowed his eyes at his fellow Slytherin.
"We are not going to die, Theo," Draco said dismissively.
Nott scoffed.
"You saw what he did in Diagon Alley. Do you really think you stand a chance?"
"I'm not suggesting we have to fight him," Draco sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Potter can be tricked."
Theo's eyebrows rose in disbelief.
"Besides, what choice do we have? You cannot refuse the Dark Lord."
"Great," Theo grumbled. "Either Potter will kill us or him. That's not even including Dumbledore. At least with him, he probably won't kill us, but we'd end up in Azkaban or wherever criminals go now for the rest of our lives."
Draco chuckled as he shook his head.
"Not if we're careful. We're Slytherins, Nott. We use our cunning to do what needs to be done. When it's over, we will be rewarded above all overs," Draco said, echoing the words the Dark Lord had spoken to him.
Theo was not assuaged, and Draco huffed irritably as he stood.
"Don't fuck this up, Nott. Don't do anything stupid and we will be fine. We will be careful and we will succeed. We have the entire school year to find a way and between us, we will manage it."
Theo remained unconvinced and Draco shook his head before taking his leave of the compartment.
Nott was a coward with absolutely no ambition. How he'd ever been placed in Slytherin, Draco didn't know. However, even if he had to pursue the plan on his own, he would, and all the plaudits for his success would his.
After what Potter had done to him a year ago to the day in front of Greengrass, the time was ripe to get his revenge.
Draco had been humiliated by Harry Potter, but it would be him who got the last laugh.
He could see it clearly in his mind; Potter's broken body before the Dark Lord, his voice weak as he pleaded for a mercy that would not be granted.
It brought a longing smile to Draco's lips and he wet them with his tongue in anticipation.
It would be a good year indeed.
(Break)
She peered out of the window, her gaze sweeping across the breadth of the platform. Amongst the students and parents bidding their final farewells were several journalists, all undoubtedly waiting for the arrival of one person.
"He's not stupid. He's not just going to waltz on there like the second coming of Merlin," Tracey said amusedly.
"Who?" Daphne questioned nonchalantly.
Tracey rolled her eyes at her.
"The person they're looking for just as much as you are."
"I'm not looking for anyone," Daphne denied.
Tracey offered her a pointed look and Daphne leaned back in her chair, folding her hands into her lap.
"It's killing you that you're having to look away," Tracey snorted.
Daphne's nostrils flared at her friend and the girl held her hands up placatingly.
"Have you heard from him?"
"I wrote to him after the articles started appearing in the paper," Daphne answered. "He said he's keeping his head down until all this blows over."
"Like that's going to happen," Tracey snorted. "The more he hides from it, the worse it will be."
Daphne nodded her agreement.
"What do you think it was he did?" Tracey asked curiously.
"I don't know. He denied it was him, but no one believes it."
"People in the alley think he's a god."
Daphne shook her head.
Harry wouldn't like that. She liked to think that over the past year, she had gotten to know him well enough to know he had not done what he had for anything other than necessity.
From what the reports in the papers had said, the aurors in Diagon Alley when the werewolves and Death Eaters had attacked would likely have been killed were it not for him. Harry had saved them, and though she knew he was just a normal boy for the most part with a desire for little more than peace, the accompanying photos had not painted him as such.
For those that did not know him, it might well have appeared that he was some sort of figure written about in the most fantastical of tales, but to Daphne, he was simply Harry Potter.
An extraordinary wizard who only became more so the more she learned of him, but still just the boy who tutored in her defensive magic.
Or was he?
Much to her consternation, she found herself thinking of him more over the summer, and doing so and then seeing the feat for herself in the media, she began to question his very existence,
Daphne had never seen nor heard of what Harry could accomplish with magic, and it seemed that no other had either. Even the experts were stumped by the boy, so what was it he could do?
She could not even begin to fathom it, and the more she tried to, the more confused she became.
Perhaps she should simply ask him?
The worst thing that could happen was that he refused to discuss it with her, after all.
She would do just that when given the opportunity. It was to that thought that she evidently fell asleep, rocked gently by the train barrelling northwards.
When she opened her eyes, it was dark in the compartment, and Tracey shot her a grin.
"Not been sleeping much?" she asked.
Daphne shook her head.
"Not really. Where are we?"
"About an hour away," Tracey answered, her eyes drifting across the pages of one of her novels. "You missed the trolley."
Daphne groaned as she stretched before changing into her school uniform, her mind drifting once more to the enigma that was Harry Potter.
"Do you think he will even come back to school?" Tracey questioned.
"Who?"
Her friend tutted irritably.
"Potter."
Daphne frowned at the thought and ignored the jab of something unpleasant she felt in her stomach.
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Because he has other things to focus on," Tracey replied with a shrug. "It just seems pointless him being there really, don't you think."
"He still has to do his NEWTs."
"Would you really care about them if you were him?"
Daphne swallowed at the thought. If she was Harry, she probably wouldn't be thinking of Hogwarts as a priority.
That thought remained with her as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station soon after, and the two of them made their way towards the carriages that would take them to Hogwarts.
"He's not with Granger and Weasley," Tracey murmured, nodding towards the two Gryffindors who were looking around expectantly.
So, Harry had not been on the train with them.
Daphne worried her lower lip as Tracey closed to the door to the carriage. If he hadn't been on the train…
No, surely he would have mentioned that he was not returning in his response to her. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye at the very least.
Daphne didn't know why it was bothering her so much that he might have done just that. Had he thought so little of their time together?
She frowned thoughtfully.
Why would he think any more of it than what it had been?
The more pressing question, however, was why did she?
Daphne could not deny that she looked forward to her tutoring sessions, that Potter was an excellent teacher and that she hadn't learned so much from him, but it was more than that.
Potter was easy to talk to, intelligent, witty, and the lopsided grin that graced his features when he made a clever quip made his eyes light up, unguardedly. Seeing him so relaxed never failed to elicit a smile of her own.
Had Harry noticed that?
Had he noticed that her breath would hitch ever so slightly when he shifted her stance and posture to optimise her casting?
"Bugger," Daphne whispered.
"What?" Tracey asked.
"Nothing," Daphne denied, her pitch an octave higher than usual as she stepped out of the carriage, her thoughts suddenly frantic as she pondered all the times he'd made her laugh or smile off-handed.
Nonetheless, they stilled as she reached the Entrance Hall, and did her utmost to ignore the sense of relief that replaced whatever the unpleasant feeling had been at the sight of Harry who was talking in hushed whispers with a concerned Dumbledore.
Without noticing her presence, he followed the headmaster who gestured for him to do so.
"You can breathe now," Tracey whispered amusedly, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Shut up," Daphne grumbled, feeling her cheeks redden as she stalked into the Great Hall and took a seat at the Slytherin table.
"You're really going to deny it?"
"Deny what?"
Tracey muttered incoherently.
"You looked at him like a lost puppy when you saw him there."
"I did not," Daphne retorted hotly.
Tracey shook her head.
"Fine," she giggled. "You didn't."
Daphne scowled at the girl, though she offered no reply nor did she say anything else until the sorting had been completed and Dumbledore stood to address the students.
"Finally," she murmured.
"Before we tuck into our delectable feast, as ever, there are some brief announcements to make," the headmaster began with a tight smile that reflected the tension amongst the students.
Daphne had felt the very same thing at home, on the platform, and noted the lack of interaction between houses. What had happened in Diagon Alley had shifted the mood of the entire country.
'It was like this last time,' her father had explained. 'No one knows who it is behind those masks, and many made the mistake of talking too much. People were murdered in the dead of night for speaking out against him. None want any attention shifted towards them.'
"Firstly, I would like to welcome back after a long absence Professor Slughorn who has agreed to return to Hogwarts as our Potions Professor," Dumbledore announced.
The students clapped, but the confusion was felt by all.
"What about Snape?" Tracey asked, echoing the thoughts of everyone else.
Daphne frowned and shook her head unknowingly.
"Which means that Professor Snape will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and will also remain as the Head of Slytherin house," Dumbledore spoke once more, eliciting a cheer from those garbed in robes trimmed in green and silver and groans from the other tables.
Snape nodded, his expression imperceptible.
"Professor Snape has agreed to teach from third through seventh year, which means another appointment has been made to teach the first- and second-year students," Dumbledore called over the din. "I am delighted to announce that position has been accepted by our very own Harry Potter."
The silence that followed the statement was deafening, but much less so than the cacophony of cheers that erupted once the words had sunk in.
Dumbledore beamed as Harry stood at the Gryffindor table and then held his hands up for silence.
"I am sure there are few who could disagree that Mr Potter has proven his ability and experience in the subject. For those that are concerned, I can assure you that Mr Potter has obtained the relevant NEWTs to be afforded his position, and Professor Potter has agreed to continue with the Defence Club which was a resounding success last year."
The students cheered once more and Dumbledore's smile widened.
"Now, let us indulge," the headmaster announced before taking his seat.
Daphne scarcely noticed the food appearing on the table and looked at her fellow Slytherins where many sour expressions could be seen.
"He already got his NEWTs?" Tracey whispered.
Daphne shrugged, not knowing what to say on the matter, though one of her housemates were not being so reticent.
"Potter as a professor?" Draco scoffed.
Those around the blond ignored him, and even Crabbe and Goyle had the sense to say nothing on the matter. They had all seen the articles, were not foolish enough to provoke Harry. If Draco had not learned his lesson from the year prior, that would be on him.
Daphne suspected Potter would not be so lenient on him again.
She chanced another glance at the Gryffindor table to see Harry looking past her to where Draco was holding his one-sided court.
Could he hear Malfoy's disparaging remarks from where he was sitting?
It wouldn't surprise Daphne, though Harry was pensive, almost as though he was already deciding what to do with the boy. Had something happened already?
Daphne didn't know, but Draco should certainly watch himself. It seemed that he'd already once again attracted the attention of Harry Potter, and not in a way that would favour him.
(Break)
'So, the plan is to what, kidnap me?'
'I think so.'
Harry shook his head as the girl looked at him pleadingly.
He could put an end to it by dealing with Draco immediately, but with no evidence other than the word of Isabella. Doing so would put her and her family in danger, and despite the anger coursing through his veins at the temerity of what was planned, he couldn't do that to her.
'Theo doesn't want to do it,' she murmured. 'I heard him arguing with my father. He doesn't want to follow the Dark Lord.'
'But he will do as he's told.'
'Because he's scared! He's scared of my father. He's a monster, Harry.'
She wiped the tears her cheek and took a deep breath to calm herself.
'My mother is terrified of him. We all are.'
Harry frowned.
'He's one of the first on my list,' he admitted. 'He tried to kill me.'
'I know,' Isabella choked. 'But if I had to choose between saving my brother or my father, it would be Theo every time.'
Harry nodded as he stood.
'That's all you needed to say.'
'What are you going to do?' Isabella asked worriedly, taking hold of his forearm.
'I don't know,' he sighed. 'I can't make any promises, but if your brother tries to harm me in any way…'
He let the promise hang between them and Isabella swallowed deeply as she nodded her understanding.
'Thank you,' she whispered, standing, and wrapping her arms around him tightly.
Harry sighed.
It would be so much easier if he could simply put an end to it his own way, but Isabella had helped him and not given him away when she could have in Knockturn Alley.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the Great Hall erupted in cheers and he found himself the centre of attention. Evidently, Dumbledore had just announced that he would be teaching, and as Harry stood and gave the students a nod, he took in the loathing expression of Malfoy on the other side of the Great Hall.
He fought the urge to smirk at the boy.
What may have once been something of a petty, one-sided rivalry was no longer such.
Draco intended to be a catalyst for his death and Harry could take that as nothing less than a serious threat against him.
His hand twitched towards his wand and he fought the urge to curse the leering blond.
"You're going to be teaching!" Hermione squealed.
Harry frowned as he nodded.
"Dumbledore asked me over the summer," he explained. "I've only got a few subjects left for my NEWTs."
"Nice one, mate," Ron interjected, thumping him on the shoulder. "You can still play Quidditch though?"
Harry pointed to the badge pinned to his chest.
"I'm still a student and I'll only be teaching first and second years."
Ron nodded, beaming excitedly.
"When are you going to hold trials?"
"The sooner the better," Harry sighed. "We need two Beaters and Chasers. It's going to take a lot of work."
"Not with you as our Seeker," Ron declared. "No one is beating you to the Snitch."
"You never know," Harry replied seriously. "Someone haw to beat me to it at some point."
"I doubt it," Ron said dismissively. "Malfoy nor Chang are anywhere as good as you and Summers is even worse."
Harry shrugged.
He was not foolish to believe that catching the Snitch was a forgone conclusion to every game, and it wouldn't always be enough. Without competent Chasers, Beaters, and a Keeper, it did not matter how good he was. Krum was the perfect example of that.
He was the best Seeker in the world, but the rest of the Bulgarian team had been simply outclassed by the Irish.
No, a Seeker could end a match, but that solely depended on how quickly the Snitch could be found.
"By the end of the week," he decided. "I'll put something on the board tonight."
Ron grinned.
"Are you ready to defend your position?"
"Me?"
"Well, you never know," Harry chuckled. "There might be a better Keeper than you sitting here somewhere. I'd hate to have to replace you."
Ron's eyes widened.
"Bloody hell, I hadn't thought of that."
Harry laughed as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.
"I'm sure you'll be fine."
Ron nodded, his gaze steeling as he lost himself in thought and Harry allowed his gaze to sweep across the Great Hall once more, pausing on the concerned expression of the headmaster.
He was troubled by the conversation they'd shared. Even if he had been rather dismissive of the danger, it was undoubtedly playing on his mind.
(Break)
Having dismissed the students to their dormitories and returning to his office, Albus had sent for Severus and was waiting for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to arrive.
He did so with a questioning expression only a few moments later and Albus gestured for him to take a seat.
"He knows."
"He knows?"
"Harry," Albus sighed. "I do not know how he learned of it, but he is aware of the task that Draco has been given."
Severus's jaw tightened.
"Impossible," he whispered. "Unless you, I, or the Dark Lord himself told him…"
"He has a contact," Albus murmured thoughtfully. "He told me that he has it on good authority. He knows every detail, Severus. It changes things."
"What does Potter intend on doing?"
Albus shook his head.
"I believe I have managed to convince him to wait, for now."
"And if he decides not to?"
"Then I fear that young Draco's life is in peril," Albus returned simply. "If he attempts to endanger Harry…"
"Potter will kill him," Severus finished, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Draco will not be convinced to stop. The Dark Lord has deluded him into believing he can succeed."
"He was never going to, Severus. I would not have allowed it."
"And now Potter knows. This will not end well."
"I fear it will not," Albus agreed sadly. "Unless Draco changes his mind, it will not."
"What do we do?"
Albus shook his head.
"We hope that Draco can recognise his own foolishness before it is too late, or that Harry can be urged to allow me to handle it."
"Potter will not."
"Then you must not give up on trying with Draco, Severus. Help him see the error of his ways."
Severus nodded as he stood.
"I will try. For what good it will do, I will try."
With that, he took his leave of the office and Albus leaned back in his chair and stroked Fawkes' plumage.
Had Harry not discovered the ploy against, perhaps there had been some hope of preventing what was coming, but it was no secret that Draco loathed Harry deeply, so much so that it would blind him to the futility of his position.
Draco's very life hung in the balance, and Albus knew that there was little he could do.
(Break)
The tension she'd felt throughout wizarding Britain in the few times she ventured out of her home since the attack on Diagon Alley was no more palpable anywhere else than in the Slytherin Common Room.
Many of the students who had scarcely socialised during their time here were naturally gravitating towards one another, all knowing which side of the line the rest stood.
Malfoy and his ilk occupied one side of the room, and those who either wished to remain neutral or against supporting the Dark Lord on the other.
Draco eyed them with disgust, but he would do little more. There was those amongst them he'd dare not attempt to bully, and in an unspoken agreement, it was likely they would be looking out for the rest.
Two factions in such an enclosed space would be toxic at best, and outright volatile at worst.
Daphne would not hedge her bets on what would prevail, though she was pleased to see Astoria take a seat opposite her near the fireplace.
"Idiots," she muttered. "They do realise that Potter will be keeping a close eye on them."
Daphne nodded.
She'd noticed the boy eyeing the students speculatively, undoubtedly taking note of any that caught his attention.
"That's if he can take his eyes away from the French girl long enough," Astoria snorted, pulling Daphne from her thoughts.
"French girl?" Tracey asked curiously.
Astoria nodded as she grinned and produced an article from a French newspaper.
"Carruthers gave it to me. She was jealous."
Tracey snatched it before Daphne could see and her friend's eyes widened.
"Well, no one can say he's out of her league," she giggled. "I don't swing that way but even I wouldn't say no."
Daphne's frown deepened as Tracey handed her the article, all of her amusement suddenly evaporating as she did so. Daphne swallowed deeply at the photos of Harry walking arm in arm with the beautiful blonde, both of them smiling.
That could be passed off as mere friendliness, but the others were not so innocent. If anything, they were rather damning.
In one of them, he was cupping her cheek and the girl was looking up at him longingly, lustfully, her brilliant blue eyes alight with wanton desire.
Harry's face could not be seen, but Daphne imagined that the very same look was reflected there and her chest tightened uncomfortably as she handed the article back to Astoria, no longer able to look at it.
"What does it say?" she asked, her voice a little more strained than she'd intended.
"The usual crap about speculating the nature of their relationship," Astoria said dismissively. "All the rags are the same, just in different languages."
Daphne hummed.
"Are you alright?" Tracey asked worriedly.
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
Tracey opened her mouth to say something else, but evidently thought better of doing so.
"I think I'm going to get an early night," Daphne announced as she stood, doing her utmost to forget the articles and the images, to no avail.
Try as she might, she could not remove the picture of Harry cupping the girl's cheek from her mind nor the expression on her face.
It made her feel rather sick, and oddly, as though she had somehow been betrayed. How? She didn't know, but she could not help it.
Out of all the unpleasantness the day had brought thus far, this was somehow the worst, even if she could not simply fathom why.
(Break)
A smile graced his lips as he entered his sanctuary on the seventh floor of the castle. It had been a long summer away, but Harry was ready to continue his efforts in here away from the prying eyes of others, though he still had much to tend to now that he was back at Hogwarts.
"The Chamber of Secrets," he sighed as he removed the stone kept around his neck.
He'd managed to quell the urge to summon his parents, even though it was becoming more difficult to do so. He wanted to finish viewing the memories of the cloak before speaking with James and Lily Potter.
He needed to see them for everything they were without the bias of others. He wanted to know what made them so revered by those that knew them, but equally their flaws and imperfections.
Harry did not wish to have a false sense of what his parents were. Just like him, they were human, after all, and had made their mistakes as he had his.
"Soon," he murmured as he began turning the stone over in his palm, thinking of the one man best to assist him with what he needed to do.
He appeared with a look of confusion marring his features.
"Where am I?" he asked cautiously.
"In Hogwarts," Harry answered.
Salazar Slytherin hummed as his gaze swept around the room.
"And who might you be?"
"My name is Harry Potter," Harry answered, "descendant of the Peverell line, and of your own."
Slytherin's eyes widened in recognition.
"Is that so," he questioned quietly.
"That is so," Harry hissed, "but there is another of yours that threatens our very existence. He hails from the Gaunt line also and is a Peverell."
"Your brother?" Slytherin questioned with a frown.
Harry shook his head.
"I think I have a lot to explain, and then perhaps you will understand."
Slytherin gestured for him to do so, his expression fitting through dozens of emotions as Harry spoke, pride, anger, disappointment, and even sadness.
"Fool," he whispered. "Why should I believe you?"
"You don't have to," Harry said dismissively, "but I am Death's chosen and I will kill him. I would rather not risk my life facing your basilisk if it can be avoided."
Salazar nodded after a moment.
"My own magical practices were often questionable, but to go to such lengths…he must be stopped. I will help you, Harry Potter."
Harry nodded gratefully but felt the burden of what that meant settle on his shoulders.
It seemed that he had a date he'd been avoiding with a one-thousand-year-old basilisk.