𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts

Chapter 3 - Outrageous! They're Still Not Back to School AKA Back to School Part 3

"She's not wrong," Harry said, his eyes never leaving Daphne's frozen orbs of blue. "I am seeing Fleur Delacour."

Daphne went still. Like a mannequin. She gripped the window grill with one arm firmly, straightening her posture, and stopped moving entirely. It was like watching a creature in the wild, getting ready to flee or fight, or escalate, or any of a dozen different reactions. Harry didn't know what Daphne's reaction would be, but his mind ran through a worst-case scenario and made assumptions about what it could mean as fast as he could. He barely even paid attention to what others were saying.

From his limited exposure to the girl, Harry couldn't foresee her attacking him or anything of that sort. Astoria could turn out pretty volatile, especially when her elder sister was concerned. Tracey was a complete unknown, and Parkinson…. Parkinson was an instigator, and perhaps the most dangerous element of the lot.

Confronting Ginny by playing the Fiance card in front of Daphne, raising malcontent in both Daphne and Ginny.

Twisting the relationship between Joshua and Lucius Malfoy to sow seeds of doubt in Harry's mind.

Aggravating him over Neville's poor performance.

Playing the best-friend card to justify her own position on Daphne's side, accusing him of bewitching Daphne and painting him as a magically unstable murderer.

Following on the common pureblood fears of seeing their world turned into a magical copy of the mundane, and finally, playing on Daphne's own fears over his association with Fleur — a veela, and thus, a legitimate threat to relationships. Pansy had skillfully engineered it with such finesse that Harry had no options but to come clean, or lie to Daphne's face. The former would hurt Daphne, and the latter might destroy their relationship.

Provided he himself was comfortable lying in the first place.

Either way, Pansy would win.

Huh. If nothing else, it showed why Pansy Parkinson was sorted to Slytherin House.

"Harry…" Astoria croaked, unblinking. "You, you actually—"

"That's right," Pansy replied, her eyes victorious. She slipped both hands behind her back, arching her body, thrusting her chest in Harry's direction. "Harry Potter is seeing Delacour behind Daphne's back. Tell us Potter. How long was it before she opened her legs for you? Tell us how you'd have her as your dream girl, while my best friend would sit on the sidelines, waiting for a husband that'd never have the time for her. Tell us!"

She was drawing it out on purpose. He knew it. She knew it. And she knew he knew it. The bitch loved the way every second of his silence added a brick to his reputation's grave.

She knew I'd spill out the truth. She knew I wouldn't lie to Daphne and banked on it. Damn her.

The air inside the compartment suddenly felt thick. Harry flexed the fingers of his hands, resisting the urge to attack. This… this bitch had just played him for a sucker and won. And the worst part? She even got out of it smelling like flowers and made him look like a villain.

He glanced at Daphne, who… just stood. Without reacting, without answering. She just stood. She didn't look angry or frightened, just… stood. Maybe because she was not the most balanced person he knew. Maybe because she had always been set on how their marriage would be one of convenience. Or maybe her poker face was just way better than his own.

"Potter!" Astoria snapped. Gone was the affable youngster, and in her place was an angry, betrayed girl. Her dark eyes all but demanded him to explain or seek forgiveness. Tracey was blank as well. In one strike, Parkinson had snatched all of them and filled them with suspicion about him.

His stomach twisted.

Like he knew she was right. Pansy's claims were exactly accurate.

And yet… also wrong.

Yeah, fear could make things really terrible. Frightened people rarely acted wisely.

But sometimes that foolishness came out as kindness and compassion, when there was every reason to ignore everything else and look out only for oneself. It came out as irrational courage in the face of overwhelming doubt. Sometimes one's madness led them to choices that made them better and nobler and kinder than they were before.

People like Pansy made it look like everything was falling apart.

But people like Sirius and Joshua made him think they were falling forward. Like a child learning to walk. Sure one might lurch and stumble, or maybe even fall. And each time, one learnt a little more. But each time, one had to make up one's mind to get up again, to take the next step.

So that one day, they might walk with their heads held high.

The fight had begun at the Wizengamot. But it was far from over. Here in this compartment, he had no one on his side.

Just him. And Merlin, that felt intimidating.

But it also meant that he had himself on his side. And he liked how felt.

Don't fight all of them, Harry. He thought. Fight one of them.

He met Pansy's eyes. She was enjoying her victory tremendously. He imagined Tom Riddle must have looked exactly like that, when he had cast the killing curse on a newborn, after killing his parents. And if he wanted to get one up on her, he'd have to do something he hated doing. Something that went against nearly everything he stood for.

He put himself into a pureblood's shoes.

Not Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter.

"Yes, Astoria," he said in the wry tone of a man engaging in understatement. "Pansy speaks the truth. I have been, in fact, seeing Fleur Delacour, and yes, we have been intimate lately."

He turned to Daphne. "The first day, you asked me if I had someone in mind. Do you remember?"

Daphne's lips twitched slightly. Good, Harry thought. Any reaction at all meant that he had surprised her. The best thing right now was simply the truth.

"When you asked me that question, I thought of Fleur, but only barely. She was my Account manager and was helping me navigate through the uncharted waters I had found myself in. I… I was in an awful place. The Prophet was spewing lies against me. The Wizengamot wanted me tried and imprisoned. My best friends were giving me the silent treatment, and my magic…"

He paused and drew a breath. "In the middle of that, Fleur was one person who was there to lend an ear. Someone that didn't judge me over hearsay. Someone that gave me an honest opinion on things, someone unafraid to smack me in the face when I had begun to believe in my own bullshitting. Hell, she quit her freakin' career at Gringotts just to help me. She had shown an interest in me, but I had thought she was just… teasing."

A small smile formed on his lips. "Truth be told, I think she thought the same, too. It was only later on that we found we were both wrong."

"Yet…" said Daphne, her voice bereft of emotion. "You did not think it was worthwhile to let me know about it?"

"I did. But I have too much respect for you to just let you know through a letter. I… I had initially thought of talking to you privately once we reached Hogwarts. Unfortunately," he glanced at Pansy, "someone had other ideas."

"Wow," Pansy drawled. "You actually dragged your infidelity to make it look like it's my fault."

"Infidelity?" Harry challenged. "Last I checked. Daphne and I aren't married. We are not even betrothed. The only thing that binds us is a gentleman's vow, made unconditionally, demanding nothing, accepting nothing, despite multiple bequests from her father."

Despite herself, Pansy drew back in mild shock at that statement.

Good.

"What?" He taunted. "Did your best friend not think it proper to fill you up on that?"

"Harry…" Daphne began.

"No," Harry shut her up. "Your best friend mocked my friends in front of me and you let her. She sat there trying to sow doubts between us, and you let her. But guess what? I won't." he glared at Pansy. "If Parkinson wants to stand on my shoulders and call herself tall, she's got no one to blame when she falls on her face."

"Tell me Parkinson," he asked, out loud, "how am I in the wrong? You moan about how Malfoy would've married you for his own house, and then married Daphne for House Black. Last I heard, he even had plans to include Astoria in this mess. Why? What right does he have? He isn't from the main Black line. He hasn't got any Family Magic. Hell, nothing about him is a Black except his mother's blood. He's just the last of a French offshoot that bought its name and place by throwing gold." Harry sneered. "A Malfoy."

He stood his tallest. "Me? I am a Potter. I took my family to the highest crescendo of achievement. I achieved Family magic and brought Nobility status to my name. Lord Sirius Black has named me his Heir and held me responsible for the continuation of his family line. I am of Greengrass, descended from a woman that shares blood with Daphne's grandmother. Legally, I am obligated to continue the lines by marrying separately. And just because my choice is a Veela, I'm the bad guy?"

"Pot… Harry," Astoria said, her voice mollified to several degrees. "No one is blaming you for choosing to marry other women. We know how it works. But a veela is…"

"Someone that steals men away from their wives," Harry finished for her. "I am well aware."

That surprised Daphne. Enough to get her out of her shocked state. "But, if you know what she's doing…?"

"I'm immune to her Allure."

"Harry, you don't understand. You might be resistant to her charm, but her Allure is—"

"A metaphysical force on par with Amortentia, the strongest love potion in existence. Though, it's quite a misnomer. Infatuation, attraction, obsession, sure, but love? No potion can synthesize love. Also, you might be interested in knowing this. Veela allure has absolutely no effect on someone in true love."

"And the veela just casually shared her species's weakness to you?" Daphne scoffed.

"What a heap of hippogriff dung!" Pansy snorted in derision. "If that was true, most people would be—"

"True love is far rarer than you realize," Harry shot back. "A love that allows a mother to sacrifice herself for her son. A love that allows a man to hold on to his sanity for twelve years amidst dementors because he wants to keep his godson safe. A love that makes a man dedicate his entire life to the betterment of a family, not his own, just to keep his word to his dead wife."

Daphne stepped back, looking like he had just slapped her. She knew what he was talking about. She had to.

Love was powerful. Love was dangerous. It was one of the six primal forces that the Unspeakables studied deep within the Department of Mysteries. Love drove people to violence and passion, and gave them strength. It made them into fools, and sometimes, fools could do what the wise couldn't.

It made him wonder if Lord Voldemort had accounted for love back in 1981. Facing a mother protecting her infant child. Had he known the subtle effects of love, would he have taken the same steps he did?

"Do you… love Fleur Delacour?" Daphne asked finally.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He respected Fleur, and he definitely enjoyed her company. He had feelings for her, and despite the innate darkness within her, he could accept her unconditionally. But Love?

Did he… love Fleur?

"I think it is too early to answer that," He admitted.

"And that is the truth?"

Croaker's words came to mind. "It is as close to the truth I can give than you can accept."

"And Delacour?"

"I think veela are some of the most dangerous creatures out there. But Fleur? She's probably the least dangerous creature to me on this planet."

"A bold claim," commented Tracey. "For someone that's already slept with one despite knowing what they are."

"Really?" Harry's scorn targeted Tracey, who shrank at his judgemental stare. "Do you even know what a veela is? What are they really capable of? If you did, you lot wouldn't be fearing for Daphne. You'd be fearing for my life."

Daphne shuddered at the absolute certainty in his voice. "You say that as if they are more dangerous than the Dark Lord himself."

Harry snorted, inwardly congratulating himself on changing the tables. His technique had gotten to Daphne and lifted her out of the well of suspicion Pansy had thrown her into. Given the look of scorn Pansy was giving him, it was working.

Wonderfully so.

"Tom Riddle isn't dangerous. He is a lying liar that lies using libelous and incorrect statements to build a mask of greatness about him. He's using pureblood bigotry to attract support for himself. All he truly wants is to tear down everything we all hold dear. He's cunning, skilled with a wand, and absolutely nutty as a fruitcake, but he isn't dangerous. He is a rabid dog that needs to be put down."

He met Daphne's eyes. "I admit, I should've told this to you. In all honesty, I thought of writing about it. But I wasn't sure. I'm not… great with words."

"Not great with words, he says…" Astoria muttered, followed by something like 'doomed'.

"I am not sure if this… relationship with Fleur will reach marriage. We… haven't talked about that. Not yet. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. The Charter for House Potter is definitely silent on whom I can or cannot marry. But that doesn't matter at all. Daphne, I know we haven't exactly gotten the time or the occasion to discuss our situation, but I don't wish for this to be a marriage of convenience, like you feared it would with Malfoy."

Pansy let out an unceremonious 'What?' but Harry only had eyes for Daphne's blue orbs that were glistening. "I meant it, you know. At the party. You have taught me the real meaning of strength, and I respect you for that. For everything… you had to endure. For everything that you achieved despite it. Fleur and I… we are a case of Damaged finding Damaged. But you… I — I hoped we could be friends first. See if we could get past our own sensitivities and accept the other's viewpoint. I mean, we'll marry either way, so maybe take it slowly? See where it goes? I know you're probably upset with what happened between me and Fleur, and yes, I apologize for that. But no, I'm not letting Fleur go either."

Daphne's arms dangled at her sides.

"What do you say?" He offered with a smile. "Are you willing to forgive me, and be my friend?"

Daphne gesticulated. "Friends….?"

"Yes."

She looked at Astoria, who Harry noticed was giving her a teary-eyed nod. It looked like she was really considering it. But then a different light shone in her eyes and she asked. "Tell me… Harry. How are you so sure you're immune to the Allure?"

His lips twisted into a small smile. "Remember who I am, Daphne. Think of the magic I brought into this world."

"Pev…." she began, before her lips opened in a small 'O', as realization hit her eyes. And with that came a giddy happiness and a faith that he had seen just once before.

Daphne didn't grab his hand. She didn't shake them. Instead, she rushed forward and pulled him into a hug, smashing her not inconsiderable assets against his chest.

Yep. Fleur had corrupted him alright if that was the first thing to pop up in his head. Maybe Astoria was more right than she knew.

"Yes," she said, smiling, her hands going over his neck. "I'll be your friend."

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