Chapter Twenty-Seven – Small Steps

Harry stared down at the newspaper in his hands, feeling the cold creep into his guts. The words Attack on World Cup Celebrations dug into his consciousness like icy daggers. The World Cup celebrations... where Ron, Hermione and the other Weasleys had been.

No sooner had the thought formed in his mind than Harry jumped up, so quickly and energetically that his chair fell to the floor with a clatter.

"We've got to get to them!" he shouted, running towards the entrance hall and the door that led to the street.

"Harry, wait," Daphne called from behind him.

Her words made Harry stop. He turned to face his girlfriend. She had also gotten up from the kitchen table and was coming towards him with quick steps, worry on her pretty face. Worry for him.

"We need to get to the Burrow," he said. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every second they waited –

"I know, but there's a faster way," Daphne said. She took his hand in hers and pulled him towards the fireplace.

At first Harry was confused as to why she was doing this, but then he understood. Of course there was another way to travel. Floo powder! He had never used it before, but it would undoubtedly get them to the Weasleys faster than flying.

But inwardly, at that moment, he cursed his time with the Dursleys once again, all those lost years when he could have learned about the wonders of magic and the wizarding world. Just like Daphne. It was moments like this that always reminded him of how different they had both grown up.

"You need to lower the protections around the Floo Network," his girlfriend said.

Harry nodded. At the same time, he felt for the magic within him and the magic of the house he was the master of. And after all the weeks they had spent here, the magic of the house felt... different. It was still cool, but no longer icy, still somewhat aloof, but no longer hostile. It no longer felt like a cancer that made Harry feel sick, but more like a hard knot, as Daphne had always described it. And hidden in the threads of that knot, Harry could feel more and more traces of Daphne's familiar, warm magic that she had woven in, piece by piece. He believed that there really wasn't a thread that she hadn't pulled and tugged at, metaphorically speaking, over the last few weeks, if only to find out what was going on, curious as she was. But that was what he loved about her.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on lowering the protections that shielded Grimmauld Place from the Floo Network. If Daphne imagined the magic of the house as a knot, he imagined the protections as the drawbridge of a castle. And if magic could be heard, the crashing of the drawbridge would be heard for miles at this moment, such was the force and haste with which he moved. There was no time to lose.

And so, after the protections had been lowered, Harry reached into the silver jar decorated with snakes on the mantelpiece. He took out a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, which flickered with emerald flames.

Now came the tricky part. Theoretically, he knew what to do, but he'd never used Floo powder in practice before and he was aware of the dangers of getting it wrong – the books in the Black's library had some very graphic illustrations. But he also knew that Daphne had used the Floo Network many times in her childhood, so he knew he could do it. Simply because she could. It would certainly be difficult to explain this knowledge to anyone else, but he was absolutely certain that it was so.

Determined, Harry stepped into the centre of the fire, which was neither hot nor cold, and said, "Burrow".

It was as if a huge drainpipe was sucking him in. For a moment he could see Daphne's jet-black hair, then he whirled around, a deafening roar around him. The emerald flames swirled around him, interrupted only by fragmentary images of the real world through which he moved with magical speed, brief glimpses of other fires and the rooms beyond. His stomach rumbled and he had to fight not to vomit. Then, with a violent jerk, the swirling stopped and Harry stumbled forward, out of the fireplace and into a light-filled room.

He barely managed to keep his balance and avoid hitting his head on the floor. Or worse, impaling his head on the fireplace grate.

Once Harry had regained his balance, he looked around the strange room. He was in a living room, that was obvious, but the difference from the living room at Grimmauld Place could not have been more obvious.

The room looked cosy and a little chaotic at the same time. The furniture was a colourful jumble and seemed to tell stories of decades. Knitted blankets and cushions of every imaginable pattern lay on a worn sofa that bore the marks of many past adventures. The windows were wide open, letting in the bright sunlight and offering a view of the green countryside all around. A light summer breeze blew through the curtains, carrying the chirping of birds.

Magical objects seemed to be hidden all over the living room. A rug lay casually over the back of an armchair as a flying brush brushed it by itself, curious Weasley faces looked down at him from numerous paintings on the walls, books with titles like 'Charm Your Own Cheese' or 'Enchantment in Baking' and 'One Minute Feasts – It's Magic!' were piled up on a shelf.

It was exactly how Harry had always imagined the Burrow to be in Ron's stories, and after Daphne, he now envied his second best friend, for being able to grow up in such a loving home.

Behind Harry, the emerald flames flared up again. They spat out Daphne who, like him before but much more gracefully, entered the room. And at the exact same moment, Molly Weasley burst through the opposite open door into the living room.

It had been over a year since Harry had last seen the Weasley mother. Back then, after the events in the Chamber of Secrets, she had been visibly relieved and happy, a stark contrast to now. For a brief moment, a hopeful expression appeared on Mrs Weasley's pale, tense face, but it was replaced by disappointment when she realised who they were. Harry noticed that she was holding a crumpled Daily Prophet in one hand and... a wall clock? He blinked in confusion.

To Mrs Weasley's credit, her disappointment only showed for a brief moment, less than a second, before she forced herself to smile. "Harry, dear. And Daphne. What … what brings you here?"

"We read about it in the paper," Harry said.

Daphne nodded and came up beside him so that their shoulders touched. "Have you heard from them?"

Mrs Weasley's smile became a little more sincere, while at the same time she looked as if she was fighting not to burst into tears. In a low voice she said, "That's sweet of you both. But unfortunately, I don't know anything either. I ... I'm worried too, of course, but I'm sure they're fine. I mean, look here."

Mrs Wasley pointed to the wall clock she was holding. Now Harry could see the hands and the face. However, this clock didn't have two hands like an ordinary clock, but nine, one for each member of the Weasley family. And instead of showing the current time, the position of each of these hands indicated where the family member was at the moment, for where the numbers one to twelve would be on an ordinary clock, there were things like 'work', 'school', 'home', 'travelling' or 'mortal peril'. Mrs Weasley's hand pointed to 'home', while all the others pointed to 'travelling'.

"It's been like this all morning. They're still on their way home, but I'm sure they're all right."

Harry swallowed as he realised something. "But Hermione... She's not on the clock."

Mrs Weasley came over to him and squeezed his shoulder gently. "I'm sure she's all right, dear. Arthur would never let anything happen to her."

Before Harry could reply, all eight of the other Weasley's hands suddenly jumped forward with a loud click. They now pointed to 'home'. The next thing they knew, they heard footsteps and shouts from outside and then the front door slamming.

Mrs Weasley whirled round just in time to see Ron and Ginny running into the living room, followed by Fred, George, Percy and two other tall, red-haired men who had to be Bill and Charlie.

Harry's heart leapt as Hermione entered the room behind them, accompanied by Mr Weasley. She was alive. They were all alive. And they were all unharmed, it seemed.

At the same moment, Mrs Weasley and Hermione leapt forward, but in opposite directions.

Mrs Weasley reached her children and, as if her arms were yards long, managed to hug and hold them all at once. The Daily Prophet fell from her limp hand. "You're all well. You're fine, you're alive... oh, my boys, my brave boys. And my girl, my beautiful little girl..."

"Ouch! Mum, you're crushing us!"

"I don't think I can breathe anymore!"

"We're glad to see you too, Mum."

Meanwhile, Hermione had reached Harry and wrapped her arms around him so that his face was buried in her bushy hair. She hugged him tightly and a sob escaped her mouth. "Oh, Harry, you've come! You're here!"

"Of course, Hermione," he said, stroking her back. "I'm here."

"He took off as soon as we saw the paper," Daphne's voice sounded next to him. "But what the hell happened?"

It was the one question that Harry was also dying to know. And so it was that, after their emotions and relief at being reunited had settled a little, they all ended up sitting close together in the small kitchen of the Burrow. There was a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them. Mr Weasley and Charlie had each poured a shot of Odgen's Old Firewhisky into their tea, and when Fred and George had tried to do the same, Mrs Weasley had first rebuked them loudly, then suddenly started to cry even louder, then hugged them again and stroked their hair until it stuck out in all directions. It was really heart-warming, Harry thought, to see such warmth between the Weasleys. He put his arm around Daphne, who snuggled close to him.

When it was quiet again, Harry let his eyes wander around them. "So, what happened?"

"It was the middle of the night when it started," Mr Weasley said. He pointed at himself, Bill and Charlie. "The others were asleep, while we were still awake, drinking and talking and just enjoying the spectacle, because the Irish fans were still celebrating. But suddenly everything changed. Screams could be heard from a distance. Terrified screams. And cruel laughter from many throats. We woke the others at once."

Mrs Weasley put her hand to her mouth. Hermione was trembling and Ron put his hand over hers, reassuring her. Fred and George looked unusually serious, while Percy had been staring into space with a snow-white face since they'd arrived.

"I thought it was a bad joke at first," Ginny said quietly.

Ron nodded. "Me too, but I've never seen Dad so serious. And the screams..." He shuddered. "It was terrible. I've never heard anything so horrible..."

At his words, Hermione arched her back. Her hand in Ron's was still trembling, but her gaze and voice as she spoke were firm.

"It was Muggles," she said. At Harry's confused look, she continued. "The screams were Muggles. The place was actually a Muggle campsite, and the owner and his family were still there. The... the Death Eaters, they levitated them in front of them, stripped them naked and humiliated them while the family screamed in terror..."

Hermione's voice broke at the last words and she pressed herself against Ron, who put his arm around her and whispered things in her ear that Harry couldn't understand.

"Death Eaters?" Daphne asked, frowning.

"Probably," Mr Weasley said. "They wore the same cloaks and masks as before. That's why people were so afraid. But it got worse when the Dark Mark suddenly appeared in the sky."

"The Dark Mark?" Mrs Weasley breathed.

Mr Weasley looked at his wife. Harry had the feeling there was a long, silent conversation between the two of them before Mr Weasley finally nodded. "Then panic broke out. People started running, in all directions, with no regard for each other. They knocked each other over and left injured people behind just to get to safety. And then, suddenly, Killing Curses shot through the air. The green flashes were clearly visible in the night..."

Mrs Weasley stroked her husband's hand. "And you got our children to safety. They're here now because of you."

"But why didn't anyone fight?" Daphne asked. An intense look had crept into her amber eyes, a mixture of accusation and genuine confusion. "They were all witches and wizards. You are witches and wizards." She looked at the seated people. "You could have done something other than run away."

Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged another look, but it was Ginny who spoke first.

"What were we supposed to do? Fight the Death Eaters? With Wingardium Leviosa and other great spells from two years at Hogwarts or what?" Ginny snorted as she glared at Daphne. "Are you serious?"

"Aurors died in the process, Daphne," Hermione said in a more conciliatory voice than Ginny's. "Wizards trained for moments like this."

"Bridgers and Heatcote," Mr Weasley said. "I knew them. They were good men. I feel sorry for Heatcote's fiancée. They were to be married next week..." He looked away and took another deep sip of his whisky tea.

Harry felt his stomach tighten and a dark shadow flit across Daphne's face as well.

"They faced the danger and fought. They proved their honour," she said. Then she crossed her arms, her gaze still as intense as before. "But they shouldn't have been the only ones to fight."

"Would you have fought, Miss Greengrass?" asked Mr Weasley.

Daphne nodded determinedly. "I would have. Without hesitation." She looked at Harry, who also nodded. "We both would have fought. We would have faced the danger. Just as we did when we too were only second years and yet we saved a certain person at this table."

Ginny glared angrily at Daphne and by now, if not before, Harry was sure that the two girls would never be friends. "I know you weren't in the Chamber for me then, Greengrass. So if you think I'm going to –"

"Shoo, shoo, girls, no need to argue," Mrs Weasley interrupted her daughter. "It's all right for us to be a bit upset, but let's be kind and fair. And Daphne, my dear" – Mrs Weasley turned to Daphne and smiled gently at her – "please remember that you can't measure everyone by your own standards. Not everyone is as strong as you."

"Except when it comes to Black's Confusion Charms. She was anything but strong then," Ginny said quietly, but loud enough for Daphne to hear.

Now it was Daphne who was glaring at the younger girl, and Harry was sure that if looks could kill, Ginny would collapse lifeless in an instant; not to mention Daphne's feelings of anger, shame and determination spilling over onto him through their bond.

He also had to resist the urge to tell Ginny to her face what he thought of her words and that she should apologise to Daphne immediately, but he knew that would escalate the conversation for good. So he asked a new question, partly because he was also very interested in that, and partly to change the subject.

"And who was the presumed dead Death Eater mentioned in the newspaper?"

"Barty Crouch Junior," said Mr Weasley. "He's the son of an important Department Head at the Ministry."

Ron looked at Harry and whispered, "Percy's boss."

Now Harry understood why Percy's face had been so white all this time. This had to be quite a shock ... and probably anything but beneficial for his career.

"But how is that possible?" he asked.

Mr Weasley shrugged. "The investigation will show. Barty Crouch Junior was arrested after the war and convicted of... terrible crimes. He was sent to Azkaban, where he died."

"Apparently not," Daphne said.

"Yes, apparently not. Crouch Junior is probably being interrogated by Madam Bones and her Aurors right now. All we know at the moment is that he somehow survived, somehow went to the World Cup and somehow got his hands on a Bulgarian wizard's wand..."

There was silence around the table for a few moments as everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Finally, it was Ron who spoke next, asking a question Harry hadn't expected from his friend.

"Has life always been so... confusing? Or did it just seem easier before?"

"I think it's always been that way," Hermione said. She looked at Ron sympathetically. "And magic just makes it worse."

"I'll drink to that," Charlie said, taking a deep swig straight from the whisky bottle.

Harry and Daphne spent the rest of the day at the Burrow. They drank tea, ate Mrs Weasley's homemade biscuits and talked about everything but last night's events – not that Harry wasn't still curious, but he felt the others needed some distraction. They even played a game of Quidditch in the orchard behind the house, but they only had five working brooms and Ginny's Nimbus was far superior to the others, so they had to take turns.

When the sun finally set, it was time to say goodbye. Mrs Weasley offered them the chance to sleep in the Burrow, but Harry didn't think anything good would come of Daphne spending a whole night in a room with Ginny and Hermione, so they graciously declined. Besides, after all the stress, they were both longing for some peace and quiet and time alone together.

And so Harry and Daphne – after one last bone-crushing hug from Mrs Weasley, and after Hermione had made him promise to write to her every day – stepped into the fireplace and returned to Grimmauld Place.

There they stepped out of the fireplace, one after the other, and wiped the ash from their robes. They exchanged glances.

"Wow," Daphne murmured softly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, wow."

"The world is a dangerous place, Harry. One wrong decision in the night, a bit of bad luck and a spell flying around and there could have been more deaths. Ron or Hermione or any of the other Weasleys. Or someone else entirely."

"I know." Harry took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "Which makes it all the more important that we get stronger, as strong as we can. But... I'm relieved that everyone's all right. I was really worried for a moment."

Daphne smiled warmly at him. "I know. That's why I hope you'll forgive me for what I'm about to say."

"What?"

"I'm just saying... Sometimes your friends give me quite a headache!"

Harry laughed at her words. "Believe me, I think the feeling is mutual."

Daphne just gave him another smile, albeit a slightly weaker one, without joining in his laughter. Harry sensed that something was troubling her. But he also knew that she would tell him as soon as she had sorted out her thoughts and feelings. Just as she always did. So he just waited.

He didn't have to wait long. After they had both brushed their teeth and changed their clothes and were lying side by side in bed, their faces turned towards each other, Daphne let out a long sigh. Her gaze was fixed on him, her golden, shimmering green eyes reflecting the light of the stars.

"Will you hold me, please?" she whispered.

Harry grinned. "Does the powerful sorceress need a hug?"

Daphne nodded. "Sometimes even a powerful sorceress just wants to be held by her boyfriend. Please hold me, Harry."

He could never deny her a wish, especially one like this. And so he wrapped his arms around her petite, warm body and pressed her against him. Daphne leaned her head against his chest as if to listen to his heartbeat as he gently stroked her back. Her nightgown was undone at her shoulder blades, her skin so soft under his fingers that Harry couldn't stop caressing her. He kissed Daphne's dark crown and the familiar scent of her hair, pine needles with a hint of lemongrass, hit his nose. A satisfied smile played on his lips.

"What is it, Princess?"

"I just can't forget," Daphne said. Her face was still against his chest, so her words sounded a little muffled, but he could still hear them clearly. "Mr Weasley's words. Heatcote's fiancée, who... Please don't ever leave me, Harry. Not even for a moment."

Now Harry understood what was going on inside her. He hugged her even tighter. "Never. I'll never leave you, Daph. The only way you could ever get rid of me would be if you left me."

"Then we'll be together forever." Harry couldn't see it, but he imagined Daphne smiling at those words.

"I like that thought."

"So do I."

Harry could feel it clearly, for it felt as sublime, as wonderful as ever. Their two magics intertwined, enveloping them like a warm blanket, accompanied by the familiar taste of Daphne's blood on his tongue and the feeling of happiness in his heart.

At the same time, the young couple let out a contented sigh, and a few seconds later they were fast asleep.

"I hate Greengrass!"

Hermione sighed quietly as she closed her book. She had already changed into her pyjamas and was lying in the spare bed in Ginny's room. And it was Ginny she was watching now, pacing angrily.

"I mean, who does she think she is? With what arrogance, with what snootiness she comes in here and tries to tell us how to behave! And did you see the way she demonstratively took Harry's hand whenever I approached him? Does she think I would immediately try to take him away from her if she was separated from him even once?!"

"Would you?"

Ginny stopped and looked at Hermione in confusion. "What?"

Hermione put her book down. She looked firmly at Ginny. "Take Harry away from her if you could?"

"Of course not!" replied Ginny. "I'm not some desperate, love-blind brat! And Mum would kill me. She loves Greengrass, bloody hell!" Ginny collapsed onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow.

Hermione stood up. She sat down beside the younger girl. The truth was that she sympathised with her very well, for not so long ago she had felt the same way. Oh God, she had made such a fool of herself when she had found out about Harry and Daphne's relationship that she was ashamed just to think about it. But she'd learned a lot since then.

"You're a wonderful girl, Ginny," she said, "and soon you'll be a wonderful young woman. Pretty and attractive, but above all clever, brave and confident. Life has so much in store for you if you just let it – and maybe if you put in a little effort, because life doesn't give you much for free, but I'm not really worried about that either. And it'll all be worth it in the end, I'm sure."

Ginny mumbled something into her pillow, but Hermione didn't understand.

"You have to speak clearly for people to understand."

Now Ginny lifted her head and turned her face towards her. "I said you're not so bad."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Playing big sister."

"I'm glad to hear that. I've read a book or two about it."

"Of course you have."

The two girls began to laugh. The mood relaxed noticeably, even as Mrs Weasley's admonishing words rang out from outside that it would be time for bed in a few minutes.

Ginny wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye and grinned at Hermione. The grin was only slightly fake, which Hermione took as progress.

"I know you're right," Ginny said. "And I'll try to follow it, but I can't promise anything. I've always liked Harry, you know? Even when I didn't know him."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I noticed that. Hard to miss, to be honest."

"Idiot," Ginny said, slapping her shoulder. "I'm serious, though. I'm going to need time to get over my crush. I've had a few months now, and I can see how happy he is with Greengrass, but... it's not easy, you know? I always hoped it was just a brief teenage romance between them, like in the Arabella Anabella comics, but it doesn't really look like that..."

Hermione had no idea what comics Ginny was talking about, but nodded in understanding anyway. "No, I don't think so either."

"But I'll probably never like Greengrass," Ginny said. "She's just a real bitch, if you ask me."

"You don't have to. The important thing is that you find a civilised way of dealing with her, because that's what Harry will care about."

"That's what you're telling yourself, isn't it? Because you don't like her either, do you?"

Hermione looked out of the window at a tree shrouded in darkness, swaying gently in the breeze. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. She's a part of Harry's life and therefore a part of mine."

Ginny snorted slightly. "You're really strong, Hermione. I don't know if I can handle this as well as you. I'm just too direct and blunt for this sort of thing and too hot-tempered, as Dad always says."

"Those aren't necessarily bad qualities," Hermione said. "I always bottle things up too much, I think..."

"Like you did with Harry?"

Hermione's head snapped back to Ginny, but the younger girl just looked at her with a mischievous smile.

"I'm not as blind as you think."

"Ginny, I –" Hermione started, but Ginny cut her off.

"It's all right, Hermione. How can I blame someone for liking the same boy I've liked? And I have a feeling you're over him by now anyway, aren't you?" Ginny's smile became even more mischievous.

"W-what do you mean?" Hermione asked stuttering. This was one of the few times in her life when she was at a loss for words. How on earth had their conversation turned into this?

Ginny slid closer to her, a predatory grin on her freckled face. "Like I said, I'm not blind. Now tell me what's going on between you and my brother!"

"Nothing!" Hermione said quickly, but she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, this is going to be a wonderful night, big sister."

Mrs Weasley's voice came from outside. "Bedtime, girls. Go and lie down. I don't want to hear another peep, understand?"

Ginny added in a whisper, "But we need to talk quietly."

Hermione wished she was far away now, somewhere very far away. Anywhere but here. But unfortunately that wasn't possible...

"I wish I was somewhere else right now," Daphne said. "Anywhere but here."

Harry grinned. They were both sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, which was still on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There weren't many people yet, and it was still relatively quiet on the platform in front of the train windows, even if it was starting to get busier.

Although sitting was not really the right description of the position they were in, as it was only Harry who was sitting. Daphne, on the other hand, was lying on the bench with her legs drawn up and her head in Harry's lap.

"This surprises me," he said as his fingers played with a strand of her smooth, silky hair. "I would never have dreamed of this."

"Yes, have your fun with me. But it doesn't change the fact that this school year will be a waste of time. We could learn so much more on our own if we didn't have to waste our time in class."

"But then we wouldn't be seen," Harry said.

He could say the words in his sleep by now, as often as he and Daphne had had this conversation over the last few days, more and more often as the first of September and the time of their return to Hogwarts drew nearer. They could spin it all they wanted, fight it all they wanted, but it was no use. To achieve their goal of restoring their reputation, they had to be there. At Hogwarts. In the eye of the storm of their peers, the future generation of this magical land. They could not allow themselves to be ridiculed, even for a second longer than necessary. The very thought was unbearable.

Yes, if anything was going to be their undoing one day, Harry knew it would be their pride. He himself had actually never been that proud, that vain, but that too had changed through his relationship with Daphne. Like so many other things. And if pride was their greatest weakness, then they had both come a long way, even if it wasn't nearly far enough.

No, we still have a long way to go, he thought grimly, before we can reach our other goals.

As if she could read his thoughts, Daphne took his hand and squeezed it. "Small steps. Small steps towards a big goal. Even if one of those small steps is being bored to death in class..."

"Small steps," Harry agreed, "but maybe we can take a shortcut or two."

Daphne laughed and was about to reply when the compartment door opened from outside. They both fell silent immediately.

It was Ron and Hermione standing at the door, and behind them Harry could make out Ginny. He relaxed and waved to his friends. "Hey, there you are. How are you?"

"Hey, Harry, Daphne," Ron replied, pushing his trunk into the compartment. "Blimey, you're here early."

"They're both here normally," Hermione said. As well as her trunk, she was carrying a basket in which Harry could sense the presence of her cat, Crookshanks. The feathers of his inner crow immediately stood on end, but he tried not to let it show. "Just because you and your family always have to stress to the last second doesn't mean other people can't come to the station relaxed and calm."

"This year we had you to push us to be on time. Couldn't even finish my breakfast".

"That's what you get when you don't come to breakfast until ten!"

Harry chuckled to himself as he watched his two friends. He was just glad that he and Daphne didn't argue like that. Most of the time, anyway.

All the while, Ginny had remained standing in the doorway. Her eyes were fixed on Harry's lap, or rather on Daphne's head, which was still there.

"Hey, guys," Ginny finally said, looking away. She turned back towards the aisle. "I'm going to see if any of my friends are here yet. See you later."

With that, Ginny left, leaving the four new fourth years alone. Daphne gave a quick wave of her wand and the compartment door closed again. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had lifted their trunks into the shelves above their seats and sat down on the bench opposite. Crookshanks was now lying on Hermione's lap, purring softly to himself.

It was then that something caught Hermione's eye. "Harry, where's Hedwig?"

Indeed, on the shelf above Harry and Daphne's heads there were only their two trunks, but no owl cage. It was still at Grimmauld Place, although it hadn't been used for weeks.

Harry was proud of himself as he forced his lips into a non-descript smile. "She's met a handsome owl and is starting a family with him," he lied.

"They really are a handsome couple," Daphne added quickly and then, as if to change the subject, asked, "How is your brother Ron? Percy, I mean. Has he recovered from what happened?"

Ron snorted. "You mean recovered from his boss being sent to Azkaban? I don't think so. He practically worshipped Crouch!"

"They haven't appointed a replacement for Crouch yet, have they?" asked Hermione.

"Nope. But Percy said he's got all his reports and statistics on the density of cauldron floors ready to make it as easy as possible for his successor to get up to speed once they're appointed."

For a moment the others just looked at Ron, then Harry burst out laughing, and shortly afterwards Ron and Hermione joined in. There was even a hint of an amused smile on Daphne's lips.

Soon after, the Hogwarts Express started its journey, leaving London farther and farther behind. A rather uneventful train journey followed, with no one to disturb them or sit with them. Harry was a little surprised, as he had agreed with Neville during their conversation in Diagon Alley that they would meet on the train. Actually, he could have been looking for him, but Daphne's warm body leaning against him made him quickly forget that thought. He would simply ask Neville later where he had been.

Meanwhile, outside the window, it was getting cloudier and rainier the further north they travelled. By the time they arrived at Hogsmeade Station in pitch darkness, the last of the beautiful summer weather was long forgotten. It was raining and storming harder than Harry had ever seen. What a fitting welcome for a place he and Daphne had lost their hearts to, but from which they no longer hoped for much...

Harry cast rain-repellent charms on Daphne and himself before hurrying with Ron and Hermione to the waiting carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. Ron, already quite drenched, pulled open the carriage door and climbed in as quickly as he could, followed by the other three.

But they weren't the first to enter the carriage, for inside sat Neville and his girlfriend Susan, their lips pressed tightly together. As they entered, they broke away from each other with a jerk, their heads both tomato red.

"Ah, there you are, Nev," Harry said with a grin. "I wondered where you'd got to."

Neville cleared his throat as Susan waved shyly at them. "Hey, guys. We thought, er, we still had a moment. How, uh, how are you guys?"

...

As soon as everyone was seated, the carriage started with a violent lurch. Through the window of the carriage, Harry could see Ginny and several other Gryffindor third years, drenched from the rain, getting into the carriage behind them, before it too began to move, followed by many more carriages.

With a loud rumble of thunder, the carriage finally passed the Hogwarts castle gates, guarded by winged stone boars, and reached the stairs leading up to the main entrance. Once again, the students rushed out of the carriages as fast as they could and into the sheltering walls of the castle as the rain pelted down relentlessly.

Harry once again cast charms on himself and Daphne, which protected them from the falling water, like an invisible cocoon that wrapped around them and bounced the rain off. And so, much more relaxed than their fellow students, they entered the torch-lit entrance hall of Hogwarts. The hall was already filled with students wringing out their soaked hair and clothes.

And there were more to come.

"You could have helped us with that great spell of yours, Harry," Ginny's irritated voice sounded behind them.

Harry turned to see Ginny and her friends standing behind them. They looked as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over them. Their wet hair and clothes were clinging to their skin and they were shivering with cold. Ginny's eyes, on the other hand, quivered with life as she looked at him.

But before Harry could reply, Daphne spoke up, her voice perhaps a little irritated as well. "Then why don't you learn the spell yourself? Harry's not your lackey."

"Neither is yours, Greengrass!"

"You don't say."

Harry stood between the two girls and Ron and Hermione joined them to calm them down. "That's enough," he said. "Ginny, you –"

He paused as all of his internal alarm bells suddenly began to ring – at exactly the right moment.

Several round, red objects fell from the ceiling onto the heads of the unsuspecting students – water bombs!

Harry and Daphne reacted instantly. With a flick of his wand, Harry threw the water bombs back in the direction they had come from. Daphne conjured up a huge umbrella to protect them and the students closest to them from the masses of water that came crashing down on them as the water bombs burst on the ceiling.

The students further away weren't so lucky and didn't react as quickly as they were drenched from head to toe again, while high above them came the gleeful laughter of the poltergeist Peeves.

Daphne turned to Ginny, a slightly haughty smile on her face – even Harry couldn't deny it. "You're welcome, Weasley. There's no need to thank us."

"Come on," Ron urged them all, probably to spare Ginny a response. "Let's go to the hall. I'm starving and the sooner we sit down, the sooner we'll have something to eat."

Harry just shook his head in amusement and took his girlfriend's hand. Daphne's self-satisfaction was almost physical, like a pleasant tingling sensation on his skin.

As they entered the Great Hall, an angry Professor McGonagall stormed out. Moments later, they heard the teacher shouting at Peeves, trying to stop him. Apparently to no avail, as behind them the sound of bursting water bombs and screaming students continued.

As always for the Welcoming Feast, the Great Hall was lavishly decorated. Golden plates and goblets gleamed in the light of countless candles floating above the tables. The four long house tables were filled with eagerly chatting students. The teachers sat a little higher up, facing the students, at a fifth table, among them Lupin, the first Defence teacher in many, many years who had managed to stay in office for more than a year. Lupin waved at Harry, who waved back, but rather reluctantly, as he no longer thought much of Lupin since he had learnt what a pathetic weakling he was.

Here in the Great Hall, it was pleasantly dry and warm. But that wasn't what made Harry pause for a moment. At the teachers' table, a few metres to Lupin's right, sat two men who were not teachers. Harry recognised one of them immediately, as he had seen him often in the newspapers and even met him in person: Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. But the other, in a bright yellow suit, was a stranger to Harry.

"Who's that?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the stranger.

Ron followed his gaze. "That's Ludo Bagmann! We met him before the final. He's a former Quidditch player and now head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"What is he doing here?" asked Hermione. "And with Fudge?"

Ron shrugged and Daphne had no idea either.

"I'm sure we'll find out later," Harry said. "Let's sit down."

With that he turned to Daphne. A slightly sour expression had spread across her pretty face, recognisable at least to those who knew her as well as he did. Well, probably only to him.

"I'll see you later then, yeah?" she said.

Harry nodded and said quietly so that only Daphne could hear him. "I'll come by after the feast. Wait for me. We can also blow off some steam then."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. There were whistles behind him and he thought he heard Ron laughing. He paid no further attention.

Far too soon for his liking, their lips parted again. Daphne gave him one last wink before turning and walking over to the Slytherin table.

With a heavy heart, Harry turned to walk with Ron and Hermione past all the other house tables to join his fellow fourth year Gryffindors on the other side of the hall.

But his thoughts remained with his girlfriend. He only hoped that there would be no casualties...

As soon as Daphne took her seat at the Slytherin table, she knew she was in for one of the worst evenings of her life. And that she would have to pull herself together to avoid shedding any blood.

She usually sat with Harry at the Gryffindor table for meals in the Great Hall, whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner, but the Welcoming Feast, like the Year-End Feast, was unfortunately an exception. And so she had to sit at the table of her house, which, thanks to centuries of feuding and all that rubbish, was of course the furthest away from the Gryffindors'. After a summer with Harry, it suddenly felt strange for Daphne to be separated from him, as if a piece of her body had been cut out and placed at the other end of the hall...

And since all the students were in the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast, except for the new first years, it was inevitable that things would turn out as they did. So, of course, it was the other Slytherin fourth years who took their seats next to her, shortly after Daphne had sat down. What an overwhelming joy. At that moment, she would have given anything to be sitting with the Gryffindors again, even laughing at the Weasley twins' jokes. All so she wouldn't have to sit next to the jokes of her fellow Slytherins.

At first, the evening actually went quite well. As always, Daphne enjoyed the song of the Sorting Hat. Somehow the hat held a special place in her heart, as it represented an important step in her life, out of the shackles of her parents and into the big, wide world of magic. And so she also applauded each of the sorted first years politely; after all, she too had once been a first year, though certainly not as small and nervous as these.

But after the sorting ceremony, when the food was served, the misery took its course. She was probably lucky to have been left alone for so long.

"Hey, Greengrass," came the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson to her right. "Where have you been all summer? I mean, you're so pale. Have you been out at all? Or have you been hiding from the sun because it's turning you to dust?"

The other girls laughed mockingly, including Tracey, although Daphne immediately realised how fake her laughter was. No change on that front then. Nor did she miss the thick turtleneck Tracey wore under her robe, covering her entire neck, and the marks that might have been on it. If anything, Daphne felt sorry for the girl. And Millicent, pathetic sycophant that she was, certainly didn't deserve her attention either.

And so Daphne focused her gaze on Pansy alone. The sight of Pansy's smirk on her well-tanned face made her sick. Her fingers twitched, her heart pounded. Everything in her longed to raise her wand and weave Pansy's cries of pain into the melody of her life. This was how a hungry crow must feel when faced with a bloody mouse – or rather, in Pansy's case, a bloody hyena. But Daphne also knew that there would be consequences to giving in to her desire at this time and place.

And so she simply replied, "Parkinson! I didn't even see you. You're as inconspicuous as a shadow. And to be honest, I would have guessed you were up Draco's arse, which you love to crawl up."

Pansy's head turned red. "Watch your mouth, Greengrass! And if there's a walking shadow around here, it's you!"

"Tell her where you were this summer!" said Millicent excitedly. Tracey nodded in agreement.

The sardonic grin returned to Pansy's face, accompanied by more than a hint of arrogance. "I was in the Caribbean with Draco's family. A villa on our own private island. Sinfully expensive, of course, but exquisite. And exclusive. None of the riffraff you have to put up with elsewhere. But of course you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Greengrass?" She turned to Draco, who was talking to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini next to her. "Draco, darling, what did you say again about where Greengrass and Potter were over the summer?"

Draco turned to Daphne now, and her nausea only got worse. What she wouldn't give to wipe that arrogant grin off his face once and for all. At least her sister was sitting a little further away and not here to admire this pathetic wretch. She wouldn't have been able to take it without throwing up her dinner.

"The Blacks' old dump," Draco said. "In a run-down Muggle district in the worst part of London. My father says it should have been pulled down a long time ago, but it must have felt like a palace to Potter and company." Now Draco was looking directly at Daphne, his eyes travelling hungrily down her body. "But it's not too late, Greengrass. You can still accept my offer and win back at least some of your honour. I promise you that I will always have a warm place for you in one of my beds, if you are good. Or I'll just cast a Confusion Charm, since that seems to be your weakness."

This was too much for Daphne. Her fingers closed around her wand, which, like herself, was vibrating with rage. She was already imagining the glorious red lightning that would flash from its tip – when suddenly the Great Hall fell silent.

The clinking of cutlery, the giggling of the students and the general murmur fell silent. All heads turned to the teachers' table, where Professor Dumbledore stood with his arms raised and a friendly smile on his wrinkled face.

The other Slytherins also turned away from Daphne to look at their Headmaster. Daphne took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths. Mentally, she ran through her Occlumency exercises to calm her troubled emotions.

You have to control yourself, Daphne, she reminded herself. Otherwise you'll ruin everything. Harry trusts you.

The thought of her boyfriend, her partner, finally extinguished the flames in Daphne's heart and replaced them with a cosy, comforting warmth.

She took another deep breath. Yes, they had to stick to their plan, she and Harry, she knew that. Small steps. Small steps, even if they tested her patience. Small steps that would lead them to the big goal – and then also Draco fucking Malfoy would finally get what he deserved.

The thought brought a smile to Daphne's face as she listened to Dumbledore's words.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, the atmosphere was much better, although Harry had to put up with some awkward questions from his fellow students.

"So how was it living with a girl, Harry?" asked Dean.

"Definitely better than with you idiots," Harry replied as he poured himself some more mashed potatoes. "Unlike you, Daphne doesn't snore."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Wide grins spread across Dean and Seamus' faces and Lavender and Parvati suddenly stopped talking and looked at him curiously.

"You know what Daphne sounds like when she sleeps?" asked Seamus.

"So you slept together?" added Dean.

"Were you naughty?" That was Parvati, and she and Lavender burst into giggles at her question.

"None of your –" Harry started, but was immediately interrupted by more questions.

"Did you sleep naked?"

"Is it true what they say about pureblood witches?"

"Which one of you was the big spoon?"

It was Hermione who finally put her foot down. "Enough!" she shouted so loudly that the other Gryffindors turned to look at her. Her cheeks and neck were flushed. "Leave Harry alone. I'm sure he behaved like a gentleman, as usual. And you don't need to grin so perversely, Seamus."

The boy addressed raised his hands in appeasement. "It's all right, Hermione. Gosh. No need to freak out like that."

Dean nodded. "We're just curious."

"And desperate," Seamus added. "I mean, okay, Harry and Daphne are out anyway, they're like thunder and lightning, too dangerous for mere mortals like us, but how can it be that even Neville has a girlfriend and we still don't? No offence, Neville."

"That's because Neville is a nice boy, unlike you," Hermione said. "Susan knows exactly why she'd rather be with him than perverts like you."

Harry's eyes slid over to Neville, whose cheeks were turning slightly pink. But he kept his head up, even though Harry's eyes weren't the only ones on him. Harry stifled a chuckle. If only the others knew what that nice boy Neville had told him in Diagon Alley.

"Ouch, that hurts, Hermione," Seamus said, clutching his heart. "Cruel, cruel."

"But the truth," Lavender said. "You –"

From one moment to the next, all the voices and childish bickering of his classmates faded into the background for Harry. Everything around him became blurred as a hot wave swept over him. It rumbled inside him like the roar of a predator – or the angry screech of a crow baying for blood.

His eyes darted instantly to the Slytherin table where Daphne sat, but all he could see was the back of her head. His girlfriend was sitting quietly, her back as straight as a die.

Harry was about to get up to go to her – for he had no doubt that it was her feelings that had spilled over to him – when the fiery wave died down again. The sensation calmed and the screeching of his inner crow died away.

He frowned. What the hell was going on with Daphne?

But at the same moment, something else happened in the Great Hall. All eyes turned to the teachers' table where their Headmaster had risen to make his obligatory welcome speech.

Deciding to ask Daphne later what had just happened to her, Harry began to listen to Dumbledore's words.

"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling at the crowd. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices."

The usual notices followed, as they did every year. Forbidden objects, Forbidden Forest, no Hogsmeade for first and second years, blah blah blah. Harry knew it by heart after the last three years and stifled a yawn.

But then Dumbledore's speech took a new turn. The Inter-House Quidditch Cup was cancelled for this year! Dumbledore's announcement was followed by loud protests from the students, especially Fred, George and the other team members, but Harry didn't join in. Firstly, because he hadn't been part of the team for a long time, and secondly... he could see it clearly in Dumbledore's mischievously twinkling eyes, the corners of his mouth twisted in amusement. The old man had another surprise in store for them. Curious, Harry leaned forward.

"The reason for this undoubtedly painful decision," Dumbledore continued after a moment of silence, "is an event that will begin in October and continue throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. It is an event that has not taken place for over a century. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year Hogwarts will host the Triwizard Tournament."

The term rang a bell in Harry's head. He had read about it somewhere, he was sure of it. A murmur began around him.

"The Triwizard Tournament is a friendly competition between the three largest European wizarding schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion from each school is chosen to represent it, and these three champions compete in various magical tasks to crown a winner. The winner of the tournament will receive boundless glory and honour, and their name will go down in the annals of wizarding history."

Now the Great Hall erupted in a thunderous roar of voices that drowned out all other sounds. Dumbledore continued to speak, but no one paid any attention to him. Including Harry.

His gaze immediately flew to the other side of the hall – and this time it was returned. Daphne's golden eyes sparkled in the candlelight and their bond vibrated with excitement. She seemed to be thinking exactly what he was thinking.

Now, this could be interesting.