Since Voldemort's takeover almost a year ago, Daphne had ventured to the Ministry of Magic on exactly three occasions.
The first time was with her father, taking her to the emergency Wizengamot session that officially sanctioned the new regime. It was a truly historic occasion, and Daphne could still recall feeling incredibly proud that day. As the legislative measures against mudbloods and muggle influences were voted in by an overwhelming majority, Daphne was absolutely certain a bright future awaited them all. Who could have thought she would be actively working to dismantle the new regime not even a year later.
Her second visit to the Ministry was a far less joyful occasion. Her father had just died and she had to fill out the necessary paperwork to be formally recognized as the new head of House Greengrass. It was a bleak duty, made even worse by the circumstances of his death
Yet, neither of these visits could compare to the internal turmoil that gripped her as she strode through the majestic atrium, past the imposing 'Magic is Might' statue, occupying the space once adorned by the fountain of magical brethren. Pausing briefly before the dark stone monolith, Daphne ensured her disdain remained veiled, even conjuring a feigned smile for the onlookers while her fury simmered beneath the surface.
The entire nation, and this esteemed institution, had been ensnared in the clutches of a madman, born of muggle blood! What was meant to herald the return of power to the rightful rulers of Magical Britain had been grotesquely perverted beyond recognition. As she beheld the statue meant to immortalize their supposed triumph, she silently reaffirmed her vow to bring an end to this travesty once and for all.
Daphne strode purposefully past the imposing statue towards the security checkpoints stationed in front of the elevators, which ferried individuals to various Ministry departments. No one dared to accost her as she elegantly breezed through the priority line, casting a customary haughty glance at the unfortunate souls being meticulously frisked and scanned nearby. Simply flashing her family crest emblazoned on her cloak and undergoing a quick scan to confirm her identity, Daphne, accompanied by her lone bodyguard, was promptly granted passage beyond the checkpoint and towards the awaiting elevators.
As a pureblood of the highest standing, she possessed unrestricted access to all elevators, including those reserved exclusively for Ministry employees. However, even these seemed congested today, compelling her to wait impatiently in front of one, tapping her fingers against her hip in irritation. Lost in thought, she contemplated the upcoming meeting and rehearsed her words carefully. Almost oblivious to her surroundings, she barely noticed when a second individual joined their wait for the employee elevator. Glancing at the newcomer's face, she swiftly reinforced her mental shields to conceal any hint of surprise.
"Good morning, Miss Greengrass," Arthur Weasley offered a polite albeit slightly forced greeting.
Suppressing the urge to sneer at the well-known blood traitor, Daphne acknowledged his presence with a curt nod. Arthur Weasley had long been a thorn in the side of purebloods, consistently undermining their efforts while advocating for Dumbledore's ideals. Yet, his impeccable lineage rendered him untouchable, firmly entrenched as the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office – a seemingly innocuous position that nevertheless wielded significant influence.
In an ideal world, Daphne would have exerted social and financial pressure on the Weasley family to quash their muggle-equality rhetoric. Perhaps in the future, she might pursue such actions. But for now, she would soon be asking for the man's cooperation and it wouldn't do to needlessly antagonize him.
"Mr. Weasley," she replied in a neutral tone, relieved when the man didn't engage her in further conversation.
The elevator finally arrived, and the three of them stepped inside. Daphne noticed her guard watching Arthur Weasley suspiciously the entire time. Personally, Daphne wasn't concerned about him attacking her. Not only would it be foolish in the middle of the Ministry, it also didn't align with Arthur's personality, as Harry had informed her. However, it was still strange to share an elevator ride with him, to stand idly near a man whose son had killed her father.
Contrary to Astoria's numerous complains and accusations that she was doing nothing to avenge their father, Daphne had indeed considered possible retaliation against the Weasley family. And with Bill Weasley having killed their father, killing his father in return would be poetic justice. It would be relatively easy too, with Arthur physically coming to the Ministry every day, providing Daphne ample opportunity to order his assassination. But then what would be the point of such action? As far as Daphne knew, his son didn't even know it had been her father under the mask of the man he felled. What kind of revenge could she possibly take on a person who had no idea they wronged her?
Of course, after Harry's arrival into her life and everything Daphne learned thanks to him, the question of revenge became meaningless. The sad truth was that she should be thanking Bill Weasley for getting rid of her father. Otherwise, it would have had been her father, not Daphne, receiving the captive Golden trio. Daphne would still be in school, unable to stop her father from handing the prisoners over to the dark lord, thus dooming the magical world to Voldemort's oppression and House Greengrass to unknowingly serving a halfblood.
Daphne truly loved her father. But she was also glad he died when he did.
By the time the elevator finally reached Arthur's floor and the man departed, Daphne released the breath she had been holding. Soon after, the elevator reached level one, and Daphne walked out, her guard in tow. The corridors of the Minister for Magic and Support Staff level weren't as gloomy as the rest of the building, but it was still impossible not to notice the changes, especially when two menacing-looking Ministry employees dragged a struggling wizard through the corridor.
"I'm a halfblood! My father was a wizard. P- please, I'm a halfblood!" the man muttered frantically. When he saw Daphne and her guard walking by, he addressed he directly. "It's all a mistake, I'M A HALFBLOOD! Please tell them it's a mistake!" he begged. Daphne ignored him completely while her guard stepped in between them in case the prisoner somehow managed to escape his escort. Nothing like that happened though and the man's rumblings quickly receded behind them as he was dragged away to his fate.
Daphne was quite amused by the mudblood's foolish attempts at deception. Among other procedures, a mind scan was performed on each person brought before the Commission, to determine what they believed their blood status was. Had the man truly believed he was a halfblood, it would have been noted in the protocol and an investigation launched. It was a relatively foolproof method, failing only for people like Dean Thomas who honestly, but also incorrectly believed they were muggleborns. In any case, lying to the Commission about one's blood status was utterly pointless and only led to harsher punishments. The best any mudblood could do was to admit to everything and beg for mercy.
Out of all the things introduced by the new regime, Daphne always though the Muggleborn Registration Commission was the most inspired. The concept was simple yet brilliant – summon the mudbloods to a hearing where their actions in life, position in society and general attitude could be evaluated and judged. Based on that, a verdict would be reached and appropriate punishment decided. The mudbloods who freely acknowledged pureblood supremacy were issued registration right away and were free to return to their lives with merely increased tax rate on their incomes. The mudbloods found in denial of their nature but demonstrating willingness and potential to change were ordered to undergo re-education courses and intense counseling sessions. Once the appropriate way of thinking was firmly instilled in their minds, they would either resume their lives or remain in Ministry-mandated work programs in case their former lives were not appropriate for mudbloods.
Finally, there were those who denied pureblood superiority while also being deemed unlikely to benefit from counseling. Such mudbloods were fired from their jobs and their homes and properties confiscated. Every single knut was taken from them and used to finance the Commission's operation – a lovely detail in Daphne's opinion, as in essence the mudbloods were paying for their own subjugation. As for the affected mudbloods, thoroughly stripped of their wealth and wands and not allowed to return to the muggle world, they usually ended as beggars in the darker streets of Magical London. There they would remain until they managed to swallow their pride and finally acknowledged their rightful place. Their registration was valid only for a year and there was a good chance they were going to be singing a very different tune the next time they stood before the Commission.
All in all, Daphne believed it was a good system. In the beginning, she thought some of the measures excessive. But then the first registrations started and the extent of mudblood infiltration of their society was laid bare. Among other things, it turned out the damnable cretins somehow managed to wriggle their ways into every single department at the Ministry! Realizing the high ranking jobs were jealously guarded by purebloods, it seemed Dumbledore and his supporters chose to build up their powerbase from the bottom, by taking over the lower ranking but still influential positions. It would probably have taken few more decades, but Muggleborn revolution would have been inevitable had things been allowed to progress as they were. Outside of Ministry, the infiltration was even worse as far too many companies were owned and operated by untamed mudbloods, which gave them a financial clout and measure of control over magical society that simply couldn't be tolerated.
Daphne arrived at the office of the Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission, expecting her scheduled appointment with Dolores. To her surprise, a small group of people waited outside, including two orderlies seated on a bench, flanking a visibly terrified child who appeared to be around eleven years old. The boy, restrained like a hardened criminal, cast a desperate glance at Daphne as she passed by, his whispered plea for help barely audible before one of the men forcefully silenced him, yanking down his shackled hands.
Offering the child a fleeting glance of genuine sympathy, Daphne redirected her attention to the guards accompanying him. "What's his crime?" she inquired, her tone composed yet probing.
The younger of the two orderlies retorted rudely, "What's it to you?" before his companion hastily whispered something in his ear, prompting a visible flush of embarrassment.
"I apologize, ma'am," the older guard intervened, rising to his feet. "He's new," he added with evident concern, likely recognizing the significance of Daphne's family crest, her expensive clothes and the presence of her bodyguard.
"Answer the lady's question," her guard interjected before she had the chance.
"He's a mudblood… escorting him from Azkaban for hearing with Madam Umbridge," the older guard explained in a hushed tone, ensuring the boy couldn't overhear. "Attempted escape, we've been told."
Daphne's gaze returned to the prisoner, realizing he was likely one of the unfortunate Muggleborns summarily arrested upon their names appearing in Hogwarts' Book of Acceptance. He was then for some incomprehensible reason send to prison instead of being gently shown his proper place in the magical world. Daphne sighed in her mind. She reckoned the Commission was doing a good work for the most part and she wished to keep it operational after the war was over… but this was utterly wrong. These mudblood children had only just heard of magic and yet they were being held to the same standards as adults. It was insane and morally very wrong, a clear sign of perversion introduced by that thrice damned whore son of a muggle. Daphne had no problem with mudbloods with Granger's attitude ending up in Azkaban, but to be sending innocent children there was beyond the pale.
Suppressing her rising indignation, Daphne turned her attention back to the orderlies. "I have a meeting with Madam Umbridge," she informed them firmly.
"W- we'll wait! You can go right in," the older guard stammered, casting a wary glance at his younger counterpart, who appeared on the verge of protest.
"Your cooperation is appreciated," Daphne replied, offering a chilling smile. "House Greengrass extends its gratitude," she added, noting the older man's widened eyes and the younger one's trembling form. "In recognition of your assistance, my assistant will aid you in guarding the prisoner while you wait," she concluded, sharing a significant look with her bodyguard who nodded in comprehension.
Daphne once more looked at the little boy with deep concern even as she maintained an outward appearance of indifference. With a decisive turn on her heel, she rapped the knocker on the door, signaling her arrival.
"Enter…" came the sickeningly sweet female voice from the other side of the door. Daphne braced herself before pushing open the doors and stepping inside.
"Good morning, Madam Umbridge," Daphne greeted politely, her eyes briefly scanning her surroundings. The office mirrored Umbridge's former classroom at Hogwarts, complete with the witch herself clad in her signature dark pink cardigan, a relatively appropriate fashion choice for a witch of her age, but not a color that Daphne personally preferred.
"Thank you for seeing me on such a short notice."
"My Lady Greengrass!" Dolores exclaimed, rising to greet her with genuine excitement. "It is no trouble at all," she enthused before her expression softened. "Please accept my condolences."
"Thank you," Daphne responded simply, eager to move past the formalities and onto the true purpose of her visit. She accepted the offered seat as Umbridge joined her at the table, affording Daphne an opportunity to scrutinize her carefully.
Both her father and grandfather liked the woman and Daphne could understand why. Dolores Umbridge was probably the most knowledgeable person alive when it came to the internal workings of the Ministry and the intricacies of the legislation process. With a government as old as the Ministry of Magic, that was a very useful asset to have. In the past, Dolores had thwarted countless proposals from Dumbledore's supporters with ease, citing obscure laws and precedents. Despite Daphne's personal animosity towards her for what she had done to Harry, she definitely recognized the woman's worth as a vassal.
Yet, Umbridge's greatest strength was also her fatal flaw – her limited understanding of the broader magical world, having spent her entire life within the Ministry's confines. Within these walls, she was the undisputed queen bee, but place her anywhere else and she became like a fish out of water. Her ill-fated tenure as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts served as a stark example. Knowing absolutely nothing about teaching or children, Dolores had treated her Hogwarts assignment as yet another post at the Ministry. As could be expected, it led to one incompetent decision after another, culminating with Dolores Umbridge getting captured and repeatedly gangraped by a herd of Centaurs. They had abused her for over a day before Dumbledore finally rescued her. Dolores had already suffered a severe physical and mental trauma by then, forcing her to spend weeks in hospital followed by almost a year in a mental institution.
Daphne sometimes wondered whether Hermione Granger realized she was largely responsible for the harsh treatment the mudbloods of this country now suffered at Dolores' hands. While the witch harbored disdain for mudbloods before, it was her harrowing encounter with the centaurs that truly transformed her into a tyrant. In her mind, Dolores decided it was all Granger's fault she had ended up captured (which Daphne had to admit she was right about) and so she seemingly made it her mission to punish all muggleborns in the girl's stead. She had also privately posted huge bounties on Granger's capture, dead or alive. It was Umbridge's burning desire to get her hands and wand on Hermione Granger that Daphne planned to use today.
"I find myself in need of your assistance, Madam Umbridge," Daphne announced, producing papers from the folder her guard had handed her moments before entering the office. "Due to the most recent regulations introduced by the Ministry, it appears your signature is now required to reaffirm the registration of the mudbloods who serve my family," she explained, infusing her voice with a hint of annoyance.
Umbridge frowned at the papers before her, extending her hand. "May I have those?" she inquired, and Daphne complied, placing the forms on her desk. Umbridge swiftly signed them without bothering to read the content. "There, it's done," she declared with a smile, returning the papers to Daphne.
Daphne arched an eyebrow. "I must say, I am pleasantly surprised by your swift approval, Madam Umbridge," she remarked. "I had feared the Ministry's bureaucracy would prove more obstinate on the matter," she added, offering a smile.
Umbridge chuckled in her girlish voice. "The Ministry's regulations are not meant to inconvenience upstanding citizens such as yourself, my Lady," she explained. "In the future, feel free to mail the forms directly to me, and I will return them signed. We had a similar arrangement with your father," she added proudly.
"Then I would be honored to continue such arrangement, Madam Umbridge" Daphne responded graciously before calling for her house elf. She handed the signed form over to the creature and it immediately popped away.
"Dolores," Umbridge interjected as the elf departed.
"Pardon?"
"Please call me Dolores, my Lady," Umbridge insisted with a smile, prompting Daphne to reciprocate.
"Thank you, Dolores. In that case, you may call me Daphne."
"Now... was this the only reason for your visit, or is there anything else I can assist you with, Daphne?" Umbridge inquired. Daphne found it strange to hear her name spoken in her high-pitched voice.
"Actually, there is one more thing…" Daphne began cautiously and then asked, "Is this room secure?"
Umbridge appeared momentarily hurt by the insinuation. "It is, of course, illegal to conduct surveillance of Ministry's senior employees," she gave her the disclaimer before smiling and turning a pink crystal on her table upside down. "I just activated my private and very expensive wards. We are free to speak privately," she told her and Daphne nodded, feeling the ward magic having sealed the room. Any outside observer should simply assume she was bribing Dolores, something that was illegal, but not at all rare.
Daphne retrieved the final piece of paper from her folder—a photograph—and slid it across the desk to Umbridge, observing her reaction closely. Umbridge's knuckles turned white as she clenched the photo angrily upon recognizing the person depicted. "That's—How?!" Umbridge muttered incoherently before dropping Hermione Granger's picture, her eyes locking onto Daphne's, silently demanding an explanation.
"It's quite simple," Daphne said, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "How would you like to meet that filthy little mudblood?"
Umbridge gaped, her expression a blend of outrage and intense curiosity. "Miss Greengrass!" she exclaimed in shock, the Lady honorific seemingly forgotten. "Are you suggesting you're in a position to arrange such a meeting?" she asked, her tone tinged with urgency. When Daphne remained impassive, Umbridge pressed on. "May I remind you that Hermione Granger is a fugitive from justice. If you know her whereabouts or have her in custody, she must be handed over to the Ministry immediately!" she insisted, her voice laced with authority.
Daphne raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed. "Is that a fact, Dolores?" she retorted in a bored tone. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have signed the documents acknowledging and registering Miss Granger as my servant," she informed her, causing Umbridge's shock to deepen into genuine hurt.
"You tricked me!" Umbridge accused, her voice trembling with indignation.
Daphne shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps," she conceded before leaning in closer, her voice dripping with allure. "But surely you can see it's for the best," she suggested enticingly. "Wouldn't you like the opportunity to spend some time with Miss Granger? Completely off the record, free to do as you please without any regulations getting in your way?" she asked in a voice so seductive it would tempt even the most virtuous soul. And Dolores Umbridge wasn't the most virtuous soul, not by a long shot.
Of course, Daphne was deceiving Umbridge. While she intended to facilitate a meeting between them, she had no intention of allowing Umbridge free rein over Granger. That would undoubtedly spell the mudblood's extremely painful demise, a scenario Harry wouldn't tolerate. Moreover, Daphne planned to use Granger as leverage more than once, knowing Umbridge wasn't the only one eager to exact revenge upon the bitch.
"Hmm," Umbridge hummed, torn between her innate devotion to rules and her private desire for retribution. "I can see the merit in your proposal. But still... she may possess knowledge of Harry Potter's whereabouts," Umbridge suggested tentatively, but Daphne firmly interrupted, nipping that line of thought in the bud.
"She knows nothing," Daphne asserted with certainty, offering a reassuring smile. "In the midst of her agonized screams, Miss Granger confessed to me that she has been on the run since the Weasley's wedding. She's had no contact with anyone significant since then," she elaborated, noting Umbridge's lingering skepticism. "Believe me, if there was even the slightest chance she knew Potter's whereabouts, I would have handed her over without hesitation," she added, her frown deepening. "Surely you're not insinuating that I'm aiding Harry Potter's cause?" she challenged crossly while laughing inside.
"N-No!" Umbridge gasped, recoiling at the mere suggestion. "Nobody in their right mind would do such a thing, my Lady."
Daphne nodded in satisfaction, though her frown persisted. "Then perhaps you're suggesting I'm incapable of interrogating a mudblood?" she retorted indignantly. Before Umbridge could protest, Daphne leaned forward, her tone softer. "Listen... I understand the pain Hermione Granger inflicted upon you," she said, watching as Umbridge paled at the reminder. "Come to my house tomorrow, and you can exact your revenge upon her in any way you wish, for as long as you desire," she promised, her voice laden with temptation.
The idea of torturing to death the girl who had essentially handed her over to be gangraped by Centaurs finally broke Dolores' will. "W- when?" she whispered, her lips trembling from both the agony of her trauma and the anticipation of making Granger pay.
Daphne smiled victoriously. "In the evening, six o'clock," she stated before reclining in her chair. "A plausible pretext for your visit could be conducting a personal inspection of my mudblood servants," she suggested, and Dolores nodded, visibly grateful for the idea.
"Thank you, Daphne," Umbridge breathed out, a sadistic gleam flickering in her eyes as she no doubt already began to envision the cruel fate she wished to inflict upon Granger.
Daphne offered her one last sympathetic smile before rising from her seat as if preparing to depart. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she paused. "I almost forgot. There's a young mudblood prisoner waiting to meet you," she informed Umbridge. It took a moment for the implication of her words to register with Umbridge, who was still lost in her fantasies of brutally torturing Hermione Granger. Umbridge shook her head and retrieved some papers from her desk.
"Ah, yes… indeed. An attempted escapee," she told Daphne. "It appears the boy utilized accidental magic to slip through the bars," she read from the paper. Privately, Daphne was impressed by such magical feet, especially coming from a child so young and a mudblood to boot.
"What will become of him?" Daphne inquired next.
Umbridge sighed heavily. "Attempted escape from Azkaban carries an automatic sentence of the dementor's kiss," she explained. Daphne sensed a trace of reluctance in Umbridge's voice, likely more related to the ensuing paperwork than any concern for the young boy's fate.
"I see," Daphne murmured, her mind racing. "It just so happens I require a male mudblood of his age for experimentation," she informed Dolores while looking at her pointedly. "I do possess a Dementor, so if he survives, rest assured I will carry out the sentence."
Dolores Umbridge thought about that for a moment before she picked up a piece of paper. She penned down some words and affixed her signature before passing the paper to Daphne. "An order for him to be transferred to your custody immediately... but please ensure the sentence is indeed carried out once your experiments are concluded, my lady," Dolores urged her and Daphne nodded.
With a flick of her wand, Daphne incinerated Granger's photograph, still lying crumpled on Umbridge's desk, reducing it to ash. "I look forward to our meeting tomorrow, Dolores," she said coolly, striding out of the room without a backward glance.
The shackled boy and the Ministry orderlies remained where Daphne had left them. Her bodyguard stood nearby, vigilant, keeping an eye on both the prisoner and the door leading to Dolores's office. He nodded at Daphne as she emerged. One of the orderlies looked up expectantly. "Can we go in now, ma'am?" he asked respectfully but with a hint of impatience.
"It won't be necessary anymore," Daphne declared, handing him the note. "By order of Madam Umbridge, I am to take immediate charge of this prisoner," she told him the gist of it, just in case he had trouble reading. Daphne noticed the boy looking up at her with curiosity and perhaps a slight hope while the senior orderly quickly perused the note, his surprise evident in his tone. "T-that seems to be in order, ma'am," he said, passing the note back to her. "Do you need assistance with the prisoner?" he inquired, while his partner rose, preparing to lift the boy to his feet.
"No," Daphne interjected firmly. "Your services are no longer required, gentlemen... but thank you." She then withdrew two galleons from her robes and handed them to the older man. "You may leave now."
The orderly's eyes lit up at the sight of gold and he wasn't about to argue with her. He grabbed the younger man and dragged him away. Daphne observed their departure, wondering whether the older man would share the second galleon or keep both for himself. Once they were gone, Daphne turned to her bodyguard. "Ensure we're not disturbed."
"Yes, my lady," the guard affirmed, casting privacy spells before moving farther down the corridor to keep watch for intruders.
At last Daphne looked at the terrified mudblood who had been looking anxiously back and forth between her and the orderlies the entire time. Now that they were alone, his expression was focused on her alone. "Please… I just want to go home," the boy pleaded tearfully. Daphne immediately squashed her maternal instincts, which were telling her to hug him. Yes, he was a crying little boy. But he was also a mudblood. And mudbloods needed her guidance, not her pity… right?
Daphne took note of his raspy, weak voice. She conjured a cup and filled it with water, noting the wonder in the boy's eyes at her effortless display of magic. "Drink this," she instructed, and he complied eagerly, displaying his thirst. Daphne sat beside him as he drank, then took the cup from him once he finished. "Would you like more?" she asked, but he shook his head. Daphne vanished the cup and met the child's gaze.
"Do you know why you're here?" she inquired in a carefully neutral tone.
"I- I tried to escape," he stammered, fear creeping back into his voice.
Daphne nodded. "But do you know why you were sent to prison in the first place?" she pressed.
This caused the boy to become livid. "They say I stole magic. But I didn't, I swear!" he exclaimed, his shackles clinking as he vehemently protested his innocence, gesturing wildly.
"Lower your voice," Daphne cautioned, though inwardly, she seethed on his behalf.
The notion of mudbloods stealing magic was a most idiotic concept. It was derived from over a two hundred years old research article on theory of magic. The paper postulated there was a finite amount of magic in the world which was shared by all magical creatures and that no new magic can be created or the old one destroyed. The author's original intent was purely academic but the theory was picked up by less educated people who took it to mean the magical folk grew weaker with every newborn mudblood. The theory was since then disproved many times over, including by the original author's later works, but the idea derived from it persisted to this day.
"Did they tell you anything else?" Daphne inquired.
The boy looked uncertain. "They said... they said I was a muttblood," he eventually confessed.
"Mudblood," Daphne corrected automatically. "Do you understand what that means?" she asked, observing his furrowed brow as he shook his head.
Daphne sensed he was telling her the truth and she seriously felt like hitting something… or someone… in frustration. The boy didn't even know what he was! It was Hermione Granger all over again. Daphne was all for dealing with mudbloods, harshly if necessary. But there was no point in punishing them without first explaining why they were being punished. It was all so absurd!
It was in that moment Daphne realized the regime she had been celebrating only a year ago was not interested in advocating pureblood cause at all. Instead, the Ministry of Magic under Voldemort's rule was plain evil, designed to cause the largest amount of suffering and chaos. Take the boy in front of her. He never should have been send to prison, not before at least being given a chance to stop being the dirt he was and become something better.
'Did you know about this, father?! Were you okay with all this?' Daphne wondered, feeling a deep pain in her soul. Her father's complicity in what she considered a high treason against the pureblood values was weighing heavily on her mind, but Daphne refused to drown in self pity. 'I will fix this… and I can start with this boy,' she solemnly declared in her head.
"Look at me," she commanded the boy, noting his trembling form on the bench. When their eyes met, she continued, "Being called a mudblood... or a muggleborn... means you can perform magic, but your parents cannot."
The boy listened intently, his confusion evident. "But I... I thought that was normal," he murmured.
"What's your name?" Daphne asked, realizing she hadn't asked yet.
"David – David Cole."
"I am Daphne Greengrass," she introduced herself, offering a kind smile. "And no, David, it's not normal for everyone. I am what's known as a pureblood. It means all my ancestors were witches and wizards."
"Wow!" David exclaimed, his eyes widening in amazement. Daphne's smile deepened as she witnessed his reaction; the boy's excitement was infectious. "Yes… everyone in my family can do magic. Being a pureblood means magic is an inseparable part of who I am. My family and others like me – we cherish and understand magic in ways that people who don't have magic – like your parents – can never do."
The boy listened to her with fascination and so Daphne moved straight to the part which he should have been told right from the beginning. "And because purebloods understand magic so much better, they are superior to mudbloods," she told him. "Do you know what that means?"
"I'm not sure," David admitted.
"That's alright," Daphne reassured him. "It simply means mudbloods like you need to obey purebloods... to let us guide you. We know what is best for you and it is your duty to do as we say. It is for your own good and for good of magic."
"But- why?" David asked, perplexed.
Daphne pondered how to convey centuries of pureblood superiority succinctly and not make the boy resent his lot in life. "There were once mudbloods who tried to do whatever they wanted," she explained carefully, noticing he once again listened to her with batted breath. "Because they lacked guidance, they did terrible things, David. Even caused wars," she continued. "It's what mudbloods always do when they don't listen to us. They cause only suffering, to themselves and to others," she said before looking at him pointedly. "You don't want to hurt anybody, do you?" Daphne queried.
"No…"
Daphne smiled. "Good. Neither do we, David. We do not want anybody to get hurt. And that's why when there is a mudblood who does not listen to purebloods, he… or she… needs to be punished. So they do not hurt anybody. That is why you were sent to prison."
David blinked, processing her words. Daphne expected agitation, but David's response surprised her. "That's it?" he muttered incredulously. "I just need to obey these purebloods?" he asked and when Daphne nodded he became even more emotional. "But nobody told me! They took me to that awful place and laughed as I screamed every night!"
Daphne sighed. The boy was right, of course. The way he had been treated was unfair and against everything her philosophy stood for. But at this point, knowing that would only make him resentful and self-righteous. And Daphne categorically refused to create yet another Hermione Granger.
"They… made a mistake," she carefully phrased the lie. "But I am here to correct it. As I told you, I am a pureblood, David. You can come with me if you wish… you can let me guide you," she offered and awaited his reaction with trepidation.
She shouldn't have worried as the boy looked at her such eagerness it was almost pathetic. "You mean I can go with you and not return to prison?" he asked, his eyes wide with hope. Daphne smiled and nodded.
"YES! Please, Daphne! I'll do anything!" David pleaded, attempting to hug her but being hindered by his shackles.
"You're welcome, David," Daphne told him, feeling truly strange to witness this mudblood child showing so much raw emotion towards her. "But if you come with me, you must address me as Lady Greengrass... or My Lady."
He looked at her with shock. "You're a lady?" he exclaimed with disbelief before looking her over and asking, "Are you family with the Queen?"
Daphne giggled at that. "Yes, I am… a distant family."
She wasn't lying this time. Through the kings of Wessex, the British royal family was descended from a squib line of Woden Greengrass, making Daphne a distant cousin to Elizabeth II. Also known as Odin, the founder of the Wild Hunt and his companions were the progenitors of majority of muggle royal families north of Roman Empire. It was all part of an experiment they were running at the time, to see whether they could effectively create more wizards and witches by breeding muggles. There was no shortage of volunteers as muggle women of the time were more than eager to mate with their gods.
Sadly, the relatively small yields in terms of magical children being born did not justify the costs, especially considering the disgust the Wild Hunt riders endured during the act. And so the practice was abandoned, but not before whole lot of squibs were born. In many cases, their magical parent kept contact with them and their descendants. Not out of sentimentality, but because they were useful as informants in their search for mudbloods. The squibs' relations with gods and their ability to seemingly summon the Wild Hunt impressed the other muggles so much they were universally hailed as leaders and later kings.
Daphne shook the memory away and refocused on David. "If you wish to stay with my family, you'll need to listen to my orders," she told him sternly. "Always remember I know what is best for you. If you disobey..."
"No, I'll be good, I promise!" he said frantically and then quickly added. "My lady!"
"Good," Daphne nodded approvingly, pleased with his compliance. She pointed his wand at him and the shackles disappeared from his hands and feet. He marveled at the magical display. "Do everything I say, David. And I will make sure you are taught how to do that… and far, far more."
He nodded eagerly as he stood up. "Yes… lady Greengrass!"
Daphne looked at him closely, briefly scanning his mind as their eyes met. She had been doing that their entire conversation. Once again, she sensed he was being truthful with her even though he did not fully trust her yet. That was fine with Daphne. "We will now travel to my home… follow me closely and do not attempt to escape," she instructed.
"I won't!"
And so Daphne walked out of the Ministry with the young mudblood in tow. As they travelled to the apparition point, he kept bombarding her with questions. Would there be more kids of his age where they were going? Would he ever go to the school that sent him the letter? Would he ever see his parents again? It was encouraging to see he accepted her answers even when he clearly did not like them. Like when she told him he would not be able to see his parents for some time. He did not try to escape and Daphne apparated them both back to Greengrass Manor.
"… and they just left him there to rot!"
Holding back her emotions all day had taken its toll, and Daphne found herself sobbing in her boyfriend's arms. The lying and two-facedness she had to endure during her visit to the Ministry – some would say it came as second nature to her. And they wouldn't be wrong, but in the end, it still felt good to just be Daphne.
"What will you do?" Harry inquired softly, holding her close. "Will you have him raised as a servant?"
"I- I will have him raised," Daphne responded, meeting his gaze. The proud look Harry gave her when she explained why she had returned with a muggleborn child still lingered. It made her heart swell. "As for being our servant, I'll let him decide for himself," she continued, clearly surprising Harry. "I'll show him the magical world and his rightful place in it. But if he still chooses to embrace his muggle heritage after that, I'll respect his decision, even if it causes me to view him with disdain."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Harry admitted.
Daphne nodded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I never thought I'd say it... my ancestors would curse me, but I can't do it to him," she confessed tearfully. "We failed him, Harry. We failed them all so badly," she whispered as Harry comforted her.
Finally, she composed herself and stepped back. "I haven't changed my mind, Harry. I still believe mudbloods submitting to purebloods is the right thing to do," she told him resolutely and her boyfriend nodded in acceptance. Daphne paused for a moment, her lips pursed as she fought with herself, thinking of the young David.
After undergoing medical examination, she showed him to a family of her servants who lived on the grounds and had kids only slightly younger than he was, scheduled to go to Hogwarts next year. They had agreed to take him in and after some coaxing, David agreed too. The little rascal even extracted promise from Daphne to come visit him.
"I know breaking him would be for the best," Daphne said and looked into Harry's enchanting green eyes. "But I can't do it to him. Not after what he's been through," she admitted, feeling angry at herself. "Does that make me weak? A hypocrite? What does it make me?!" she rumbled.
Harry smiled. "It makes you human, Daphne Greengrass," he reassured her, his gaze full of understanding.
Daphne stared at him for a moment before she laughed and playfully punched his chest. "Just don't get used to it, Potter," she teased as they both grinned at each other. However, their conversation soon turned serious again as Harry reminded her of the other children like David, unjustly imprisoned in Azkaban.
"Yes, we have to do something for them," Daphne acknowledged, wiping away her tears. "But we need to be clever about it," Daphne said, her mind churning with possibilities. "How fortunate the person with legal authority to handle such things is coming here tomorrow," she finally declared, her calculating look returned.
"You think she would go for something like that?" Harry asked her skeptically, and Daphne didn't blame him, his experience with dear Dolores being what it was.
"I plan to ask her very nicely," Daphne said with evil grin that Harry returned. Daphne knew allowing Dolores Umbridge her long sought revenge should put her in a nice mood. But even if it does not, Daphne wasn't going to take no for an answer. She was just thinking about her future conversation with the woman when a thought occurred to her and she started laughing.
"It's Granger... she actually did it," she explained, noticing Harry's bewildered look when she had exploded with laughter for no apparent reason. "She's going to be the savior of her kind," Daphne exclaimed, marveling at the irony of Hermione Granger's suffering leading to liberation of the imprisoned mudbloods. And the best part was they were going to be grateful to Harry and her for saving them, and not to Granger. "The bitch always wanted to be a martyr… probably not in the way she expected, though," Daphne said with a smirk and was immensely proud to see its shadow reflected on Harry's face as well.