The Order of the Black Cat

by xWolfx93

During his first year at Hogwarts, Harry befriends Daphne Greengrass and encounters Jingles, a magical cat. Their revelations help Harry see the world isn't just black and white and give him what he always wanted: a family. Together, they form a secret society to better the wizarding world. The OC will be a brotherly figure to Harry. No SI. This is a longfic.

9. End of first year

Chapter 9 – End of first year

Before they entered the room where Fluffy was, the group huddled together in the dimly lit corridor. The air was thick with tension as they prepared to face the first challenge guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Daphne turned to Tracey, her voice wavering slightly. "Tracey, can I have your flute? I'll enchant it to play music."

Tracey handed the flute over, her eyes reflecting the anxiety they all felt.

Jingles looked at Daphne with concern and sent her a message through their mental connection. "Daphne, you should conserve your magic as much as possible. I might need to channel it later to fight off Quirrell."

Daphne hesitated, then spoke up. "Hermione, could you enchant the flute instead? Jingles thinks I should conserve my magic."

Hermione nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed with worry. "Of course, Daphne." She took the flute and cast the enchantment on the instrument, her wand movement precise and controlled.

As the soothing tune began to play, Harry cracked the door open a fraction, peeking into the room to see Fluffy's massive form. The friends exchanged nervous glances, their faces tense as they prepared to face the giant three-headed dog.

"Remember, everyone, stay calm and focused," Hermione whispered, her eyes locked on the door.

With one last shared nod, they stepped into the room, the enchanted flute's music preceding them. Fluffy's three heads perked up at the sound of the music, their ears twitching. As the melody continued, each of the dog's heads began to droop, and soon, the enormous creature was fast asleep, snoring softly. The friends let out a collective sigh of relief, their shoulders relaxing a bit.

Daphne looked at Hermione gratefully, her eyes reflecting the tension that still hung in the air. "Thanks, Hermione. That was well done."

Harry gestured towards the trapdoor beneath the sleeping Fluffy. "We need to keep moving. There's still a lot to overcome."

The group opened the trapdoor, and after a moment of hesitation, they jumped down into the darkness. They landed on a mass of Devil's Snare, which began to constrict around them. Their faces contorted with panic, but they quickly remembered their training and cast Lumos, the light from their wands driving the plant away.

The group entered the room filled with flying keys and noticed a door on the other side with a conspicuous keyhole. Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to think logically. "The key we're looking for must stand out in some way. It's probably old and rugged since the door looks like that."

They all scanned the room, watching the keys flitting about. After a few moments, Harry spotted an old, battered key with a broken wing. "There! That one looks like it could fit the lock!"

Climbing onto the broom, Harry took to the air, the tension palpable as he pursued the elusive key. The other keys grew agitated, swarming around him and making his task even more difficult. His friends watched with bated breath, their expressions anxious.

With a burst of speed, Harry managed to catch the key. He nimbly tossed it to Tracey, who hurriedly unlocked the door, her fingers trembling. The friends dashed through the doorway, narrowly escaping the swarm of angry keys.

Once they were safely through the door, Hermione let out a shaky laugh. "That was too close for comfort."

Daphne nodded, her eyes wide with residual fear. "You're telling me. I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life."

Tracey grinned, though her hands were still shaking slightly. "Well, we made it through, didn't we? We're one step closer to the Stone now."

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to catch his breath. "We need to stay focused. There's still more to come."

~~~o~~~

As the group entered the room with the giant chessboard, they attempted to walk across it, hoping to avoid the game altogether. However, the pawns came to life, drawing swords and blocking their path with a menacing clatter.

"We'll have to win a game of chess to get through," Daphne concluded, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. She glanced around, her eyes scanning for any hidden traps or surprises.

The friends took their positions on the black side. Harry hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the kingside bishop square, his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione's expression was serious as she took the place of the kingside rook, while Tracey nervously bit her lip and assumed the position of the queenside knight. Daphne, looking determined, stood tall as the queen, and Jingles perched on the king's square, his blue eyes watchful.

Daphne and Harry exchanged a glance, acknowledging the need for strong leadership in the game. "Daphne, you're the most experienced chess player here. I think you should take the lead," Harry suggested, his voice filled with trust and confidence in his friend's abilities.

Daphne hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "Alright, everyone, let's do this," she said, trying to sound confident.

As she commanded both the lifeless pieces and her friends, the game became more and more intense. The sound of the massive pieces moving echoed throughout the room, and the friends found themselves holding their breath as they watched each move unfold.

During a critical moment in the game, Daphne was focused on orchestrating a strategic play. In her concentration, she momentarily overlooked the position of Tracey. White's Queen suddenly threatened Tracey, putting her in a dangerous position.

Jingles, realising the dire situation, hissed out of fear, which caught the attention of Daphne. Her heart raced as she quickly evaluated the board and realised the potential checkmate.

"Rook to D3," Daphne instructed urgently, her voice wavering slightly.

The lifeless Rook moved obediently, intercepting the threatening Queen and preventing the checkmate. Tracey let out a shaky breath, her eyes wide with fear as she grasped the full extent of the danger she had just narrowly escaped.

Jingles, now visibly more relaxed, resumed his regal stance as the King. The friends shared a determined look, understanding that they needed to be more vigilant in order to ensure the safety of everyone involved. As the game continued, they became even more attentive and coordinated, working together seamlessly to navigate the treacherous chessboard.

After a series of strategic moves and tense moments, Daphne managed to corner the white king. Daphne glanced at the board, then at Harry, and said, "Move to E5, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened as he realised the significance of Daphne's instruction. "That's checkmate," he whispered, his heart racing. He stepped forward to complete the move, and the white king toppled, signalling their victory.

A palpable wave of relief washed over the room as the far door creaked open. Tracey, Hermione, and Harry turned to Daphne, their faces relaxing into smiles of gratitude.

"Well done, Daphne," Hermione said, her voice tinged with relief.

"Yeah, thanks for getting us through that," Tracey added, her usual brightness muted by the stress of their situation.

Harry, his glasses slightly askew, chimed in with a grin, "I knew you'd get us through that. Nice one, Daphne."

Jingles, unable to contain his excitement, jumped into Daphne's arms. As he began to purr and lick her face, he told her through their mental connection, "You did very well, Daphne. I'm proud of you."

Daphne giggled at the rough texture of Jingles' tongue on her face. "Thank you, Jingles," she said, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "And thank you, everyone, for your kind words."

With the warmth of their friends' praise and Jingles' affection, the group continued on, steeling themselves for whatever challenges lay ahead.

The group stepped into the next room and was immediately hit by a strong, disgusting odour. They quickly spotted the source: the corpse of a troll, lying lifeless on the floor. The stench was so overpowering that they had to cover their noses.

"Ugh, that's awful," Tracey gagged, her face turning green as she struggled to keep her stomach contents in check.

Hermione grimaced, her eyes watering from the overpowering odour. "We need to keep moving," she urged, her voice muffled behind her hand.

Harry, swallowing hard, nodded in agreement. "That must have been Quirrell's protection," he said, his voice tight with determination.

~~~o~~~

The group entered the next room, immediately noticing the peculiar setup. Seven potion bottles of various sizes and colours were placed on a table. Opposite the table, black and purple flames blocked their way forward, while a set of red flames blocked the door they had just come through. A piece of parchment lay next to the potion bottles. The room was cold and dimly lit, its stone walls giving off an eerie, unforgiving atmosphere. The tension in the air was palpable.

Harry approached the table and picked up the parchment, reading the riddle out loud. As he read, the others listened intently, their expressions reflecting a mix of confusion and concern.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Hermione furrowed her brow, deep in thought as she pondered the riddle. After a few tense moments, she confidently announced her solution, pointing to one of the vials. "This is the one that will let us move forward, and this one will take us back," she said, pointing to another.

Daphne then chimed in, "If one vial is enough for an adult, we should be able to drink half a vial each and be fine."

The friends exchanged worried glances before discussing their options. "If we can't all go forward," Tracey said hesitantly. "Then we should get help."

Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "You're right, Tracey. You and I will go back to get help from Tonks. Harry and Daphne should go forward."

Harry swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists, determination etched on his face. "Alright. We'll do this together, Daphne." He then carefully drank his half of the vial that would allow them to move forward, and handed it to Daphne, who drank most of her half, leaving a tiny bit left over.

At Harry's questioning glance, she explained with a hint of worry, "I'm a bit smaller than you, so I should be fine. I hope that the rest is enough to protect Jingles."

Jingles communicated to Daphne through their mental connection, his voice insistent in her mind. "Daphne, you need the potion more than I do. You can carry me over the flames."

But Daphne remained steadfast in her decision, her jaw set firmly. "No, Jingles. I want you to be safe too," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Jingles reluctantly drank the rest of the potion, his blue eyes locked onto Daphne's as a silent understanding passed between them. He knew that arguing with her would lead to nowhere right now, and that time was of the essence. Deep down, he hoped that she was indeed right and that she could pass through the flames unharmed with the amount she drank.

With heavy hearts, they said their goodbyes to Tracey and Hermione, who would drink from the other vial to return for help. "Be careful," Hermione whispered, her eyes glistening with concern.

As the tension in the room reached its peak, Harry and Daphne, with Jingles in her arms, stepped toward the enchanted fire. Daphne lifted Jingles as high as she could, her arms trembling slightly from the weight of the responsibility they all carried. Together, they stepped through the enchanted fire, the flames dancing around them, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

~~~o~~~

Once they had crossed through the enchanted fire, Daphne gently set Jingles down on the cold stone floor. Both she and Harry exchanged a determined glance, gripping their wands tightly in their hands. They took a deep breath, the tension between them palpable, and braced themselves for whatever they might encounter.

Stepping carefully into the expansive chamber, the first sight to greet them was Professor Quirrell. He was immersed in his own reflection in an opulent mirror, his back turned to them, seemingly engrossed in a silent, fervent monologue. His body language was taut, his actions bordering on frantic. Recognition sparked in Harry's eyes – this was the Mirror of Erised.

The chamber around Quirrell was vast, its towering ceiling shrouded in darkness. The torchlight flickered haphazardly, casting ominous shadows that danced and twisted along the stone walls, appearing to sneer at their trepidation. Yet, despite the intimidating ambiance, they kept their focus, senses honed for any signs of danger.

"What's he doing there?" Daphne murmured, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Harry could only respond with a shake of his head, his wand held high and ready, uncertainty pervading the chamber.

As Harry and Daphne continued to cautiously approach Quirrell, he suddenly seemed to notice their reflections in the mirror. His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly spun around to face them, his expression a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.

"Well, well, well," Quirrell drawled, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "If it isn't the two first years who have been causing all the trouble. Remarkable, truly remarkable, that you made it this far." He eyed them with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, as if they were insects that had wandered into his lair.

Without waiting for their response, Quirrell turned back to the mirror, his frustration mounting. "I don't understand it!" he exclaimed angrily. "I've been studying this mirror for days, and yet, the stone remains out of my grasp. How can it be so infuriatingly elusive?"

As Quirrell's voice echoed throughout the chamber, an icy, sinister voice rang out, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present. "Use the boy, Quirrell," it hissed, its words slithering through the air like a venomous snake.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest, his grip on his wand tightening until his knuckles turned white. He exchanged a fearful glance with Daphne, whose eyes were wide with terror. Jingles arched his back and hissed, his blue eyes fixed on the source of the chilling voice. As Harry hesitantly peered into the Mirror of Erised from a distance, he had hoped to see his parents once again. But instead, he was surprised to find his own reflection smirking at him, triumphantly holding the Philosopher's Stone. Slowly, the reflection slipped the stone into its pocket. When Harry instinctively checked his own pocket, he found the stone resting there.

The icy voice rang out again, its tone impatient and commanding. "He already has the Stone, Quirrell. It's time. Let me take control."

Fear flickered across Quirrell's face as he replied hesitantly, "But, Master, you aren't strong enough!"

The voice grew more agitated. "Do it now!" Without another word, Quirrell complied, slowly unwrapping his turban. As the fabric fell away, a grotesque face on the back of his head was gradually revealed. The pain in Harry's scar intensified with each passing moment, as if the malevolence of the face was directly connected to it.

When the face was fully exposed, it spoke with a sinister smirk. "Ah, Harry. So good to see you again. And I see you brought friends along as well." Jingles hissed even more, sensing the evil presence. "Daphne, that is Voldemort. We need to get out of here right now!"

Daphne's face turned ashen at Jingles' words. She turned to Harry, urgency in her voice. "It's him, Harry, the Dark Lord. We have to run!" But as they turned to flee, Quirrell let out a maniacal laugh, and a wall of fire sprang up, sealing off their escape.

Voldemort's sinister voice echoed throughout the chamber, filled with frustration. "Quirrell, you haven't granted me full control yet."

Quirrell hesitated, his voice trembling. "Are you certain it will work, Master?"

Voldemort scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "I have not been wrong yet, have I?"

With a resigned sigh, Quirrell complied. He reached up, clutching his head with trembling hands. As he did so, he gathered his resolve and, with a sudden, violent motion, twisted his own head. The sickening sound of bones snapping filled the air, and the horrifying sight of Voldemort's face emerging at the front while Quirrell's lifeless visage was forced to the back left everyone aghast.

Voldemort's cold voice rang out once more, seemingly unaffected by the gruesome scene. "Well, it appears that one cannot survive breaking their own neck. Pity." A cruel smile played on his twisted features, as he revelled in his newfound control, and the terror that gripped Harry, Daphne, and Jingles.

"Now, Harry, why don't you introduce me to your friends here?" Voldemort asked calmly, his cold eyes narrowing in amusement. "We have met before in the Forbidden Forest, but I have no clue who they are."

Harry was paralyzed, a combination of fear and the searing pain in his scar rendering him incapable of movement, let alone a response. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing was ragged.

Voldemort's menacing laugh echoed through the chamber. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, I will just have to get the answers myself." He raised his wand towards Daphne, and instinctively, the three of them took a defensive stance, their eyes wide with terror. And yet, no spell left Voldemort's wand.

Instead, Daphne felt an overwhelming intrusion in her mind, her weak Occlumency barriers crumbling like sand. Memories flashed before her inner eye, and she knew that Voldemort was rifling through them with ease. She desperately tried to push certain memories to the forefront and hide others, but it was futile – Voldemort read her as if she were an open book. He learned of Jingles and his abilities, her home life, her defiance of him, and her burgeoning friendship with Harry. Every moment and emotion laid bare for him to see.

Then, without warning, she found herself transported back to her family home. Voldemort was there, her parents worshipping him like a deity. His icy voice commanded, "Torture her for me." Her father wasted no time disarming her, pointed his own wand at her, and uttered the dreaded curse, "Crucio."

Agony coursed through her entire body, indescribable pain that threatened to tear her apart. The only moments of respite came when her father berated her, his voice dripping with contempt. "This is what you get for defying the Dark Lord," he snarled, followed by another wave of pain. "How could you become friends with a blood traitor like Potter?"

Her mind went blank, consumed by the torment.

Suddenly, Daphne collapsed to the ground, her body convulsing. Jingles cried out in alarm, "Daphne, what happened?" He rushed to her side, desperately trying to elicit a response – but even his gentle licks to her face, which usually made her giggle, drew no reaction.

Harry, too, fell to his knees, shaking Daphne's shoulder while shouting her name, his voice cracking with anguish. He then noticed that Daphne's mouth was slightly ajar, as if she was screaming silently.

Voldemort cackled icily. "Seems like I overdid it a bit. I intended to torture her, but not so much that she would collapse. Pity. I really wanted her to witness your deaths."

Fury and determination flashed in Harry's eyes as he got back on his feet. Jingles shared the same fierce resolve, and together, they turned to face Voldemort, ready to fight for their lives. "Release Daphne from your spell!" Harry demanded, his voice shaking with anger. Jingles added a menacing hiss.

Voldemort's lips curled into a sinister smile. "My, aren't you two a fierce duo," he taunted, his gaze then fixating on Harry. "But Harry, are you sure you can trust him? I just read all of Daphne's memories, and what would you say if they were hiding something from you?"

Harry's face contorted in confusion. "What? They would never. They are my friends."

Voldemort's smile only grew wider as he continued, "You see, Daphne actually wanted to tell you, but little Jingles here? He wanted to keep you in the dark. The cat actually has a clouded memory of Halloween 1981." Voldemort chuckled darkly, "Can you believe that?"

Harry turned to Jingles, who could only offer him an apologetic look. Jingles realised that they should have told Harry, as Daphne had suggested. But with her out of the picture, he had no way to communicate with Harry.

"Y-You were there when… my parents…" Harry stammered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Died?" Voldemort finished for him, his voice dripping with malicious satisfaction. "He believes he was indeed. Honestly, I didn't pay much attention if there was a cat present. I would have assumed everyone would have died due to the fire, but alas, here you two are. Anyway, I guess it's time to rectify that."

Harry continued to stare at Jingles, a mixture of sorrow and betrayal in his eyes. Why would Jingles hide something like that from him? But he realised that now was not the time for that. He had to save Daphne and the world. Filled with anger, Harry turned to face Voldemort and quickly raised his wand, shouting, "Confringo!" A fireball flew towards Voldemort, who effortlessly sent it back with a flick of his wand. Harry realised what was happening and barely managed to cast Protego before the fireball impacted him.

The force of the explosion sent Harry flying back, landing with a thud on the stairs leading down into the chamber. Jingles watched in horror, his blue eyes wide with fear. He knew fighting a professor would be tough, but fighting the Dark Lord? Even so, he steeled his resolve, hoping that soon Tracey and Hermione would return with help. They just needed to hold on long enough. Jingles watched intently as the Dark Lord slowly approached the fallen Harry. He was aware that Voldemort was keeping a close eye on him. In the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort hadn't known that Jingles could cast spells, but now he certainly did, especially after reading Daphne's memories.

Jingles glanced over at Daphne, still convulsing on the cold stone floor. He gently stepped onto her, feeling her tremble beneath him, and started to devise a strategy. Voldemort knew everything he had told Daphne, so Jingles would have to use spells she was unaware of. But the Dark Lord would most certainly be watching him, ready to shield against any spell he would throw. Jingles concluded that he needed to use a spell that couldn't be blocked or would break through a shield, like the piercing curse. He observed Voldemort's every move as he reached Harry.

"I see that cat has taught you well. A blasting curse and a shield charm. Not many first-years are capable of a feat like that," Voldemort taunted Harry, a sneer etched on his face. As he focused on Harry, Jingles knew that now was the right time to act. He raised his paw, and a small black projectile, akin to an arrow, shot out of it.

Voldemort instantly reacted and cast Protego. Just as the spell was about to collide with his shield, he realised what it was. He quickly jerked his head back, and the small black arrow pierced through his shield, barely grazing his face. A thin gash appeared on his cheek, and blood started to flow.

Voldemort laughed maniacally, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "I must say I have underestimated you, bothersome feline. It has been a long time since someone shed my blood, let alone wounded me." He paused for a moment, considering the situation. "Well, technically it's Quirrell's blood, but alas." He turned towards Jingles and started approaching him and Daphne. As Voldemort raised his wand, Jingles prepared to defend. To his surprise, a circle of flames erupted around Daphne, slowly closing in.

"You forgot that I know your weakness. Without her, you won't be able to cast spells, rendering you harmless. You have the choice to either save yourself or burn alive with her; I care not what you choose," Voldemort taunted, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

Jingles frantically tried every spell he could think of to extinguish the fire – Aquamenti, Glacius – but nothing worked. Harry, struggling to his feet, shouted, "Leave them alone, Voldemort!" His voice trembled with anger and fear as he faced the Dark Lord.

As the Dark Lord turned to face him, Harry clenched the Philosopher's Stone tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "This is what you're after, isn't it? Extinguish the flames, or I'll destroy it," Harry said, his voice resolute.

With a snap of his fingers, the flames surrounding Daphne transformed into ice. Voldemort chuckled, a sinister smile stretching across his face. "You know how to play, Harry. Very good, but you forgot one crucial thing." With a flick of his wand, the Stone was ripped from Harry's grasp and hurtled toward Voldemort. "I have decades more magical experience compared to you. Retrieving the Stone from you was always child's play."

Jingles' mind raced. He knew that if Voldemort obtained the Stone, he would return to full power and usher in a new era of darkness. Focusing intensely, Jingles raised his paw, determined to prevent the Stone from reaching Voldemort. He silently prayed his calculations were correct as he hissed, "Reducto!" A small blue-blackish ball of magical energy shot from his paw, streaking towards the Stone. Jingles held his breath as the spell connected with the Stone mid-air, shattering it into dust.

Voldemort's confident smile twisted into a snarl of rage. He turned to Jingles with fire in his eyes. "You meddlesome feline!" he shouted. "I will make sure you suffer for what you've done."

Jingles, panic surging through him, shakily raised his paw once more and sent a Confringo at Voldemort, who easily deflected it. He then shot another piercing curse, but this time Voldemort was ready, reflecting it with ease. The curse tore through Jingles' own paw and into Daphne's side. His paw was nearly obliterated by the curse, and Daphne bled profusely from the gaping hole in her stomach. Due to the pain and loss of one of his paws, Jingles tumbled down from Daphne, landing beside her. Unable to cast spells, he looked up in horror at Voldemort's face, contorted with pure hatred.

With a swift kick, Voldemort sent Jingles flying into one of the pillars supporting the chamber's ceiling. He could feel several of his ribs breaking, and the sickening crunch of bones echoed throughout the chamber. Voldemort quickly advanced towards where he had landed, determined to make the feline suffer for its defiance. Harry, his heart pounding, raised his wand, determined to protect his friends, and sent another Confringo at Voldemort. But the Dark Lord not only reflected the spell but also amplified it. It zoomed back at Harry so fast that he was unable to shield himself, sending him flying backward. He lost his grip on his wand, which clattered onto the stone floor somewhere further back in the chamber.

Voldemort approached Jingles, and the feline stared defiantly up at the Dark Lord. Jingles knew that every moment Voldemort spent torturing him increased the likelihood of Daphne and Harry's survival. He was certain that by now, Tracey and Hermione must have found help. He fervently hoped that Hermione had gone straight to the professors for assistance. Just a little longer, and they would arrive.

Voldemort stared coldly at Jingles. With a swift motion of his wand, the feline felt his stomach being torn open. Blood began to flow from the wound, staining his black fur and pooling beneath him while he started to cough up blood as well. Voldemort smirked, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Don't die too fast. I want you to see your precious friends die," he said, an unsettling calmness in his voice.

Voldemort then turned to Harry and raised his wand. Jingles, with the last of his strength, raised his own paw, determined to buy more time. But no matter how hard he tried, no spell left his paw. The Dark Lord spoke the dreaded words, "Avada Kedavra." A sickly green beam of light erupted from his wand, racing towards Harry. Jingles closed his eyes, the crushing weight of failure bearing down on him. He had failed to protect his friends.

But then, suddenly, the sound of an explosion rang out. He opened his eyes once more and saw one of the pillars near the entrance collapsing. A large piece of debris flew to intercept the killing curse. Voldemort turned to the entrance, and Jingles followed his gaze. There stood Tonks, along with Tracey, their faces resolute.

"Leave them alone," Tonks said firmly, her wand aimed at Voldemort. The Dark Lord only chuckled. "Another student? My, how frightened I am." He raised his own wand and repeated the deadly incantation, "Avada Kedavra." To everyone's surprise, nothing happened.

In a flash, Jingles connected the dots. Quirrell's demise had cut off the supply of magical power his body once regenerated. The immense magical power demand to cast Avada Kedavra was now beyond Voldemort's grasp. This newfound understanding sparked a faint glimmer of hope within Jingles - the possibility of Tonks standing her ground against the weakened Dark Lord. However, he remained painfully aware of the fact that Voldemort, though diminished, still possessed sufficient magical power to wield other deadly spells in his arsenal.

But Jingles' mind grew heavy, and his vision blurred. He knew his time had come; his body nearly drained of blood. With one last glance at his friends, he closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his furry cheek. He knew full well that he probably wouldn't open them again as darkness claimed him.

Tonks and Voldemort engaged in a fierce duel, their wands a blur of motion as spells ripped through the air between them. The chamber was filled with the deafening crackle of their energies colliding, lighting up the space with a harsh, unnatural glow.

Tonks was pressed hard, her face contorted in concentration as she attempted to deflect the relentless barrage of curses. Sweat trickled down her brow, her breath ragged as she barely held her ground against Voldemort's assault. Even in his weakened state, the Dark Lord was a nightmare, his eyes ablaze with a chilling fury as he deflected her desperate counterattacks with a casual ease.

Voldemort, with the cold precision of a predator, continued his onslaught. His wand moved in a fluid, deadly arc, launching a torrent of curses that tore through the air towards Tonks. She was constantly on the move, dodging and shielding against the attacks. Each spell she managed to deflect or avoid seemed to take a toll on her, her movements gradually becoming slower, more strained.

The chamber echoed with the brutal symphony of their duel, the sharp crack of colliding spells and the harsh panting of their breaths. The light from their wands cast grotesque shadows on the stone walls, painting a grim picture of their lethal dance.

Then, in a swift and brutal shift of tactics, Voldemort targeted Tonks' left knee with a reductor curse. Her eyes widened in surprise, but it was too late. The spell connected with a sickening crunch, and the world tilted as her knee gave out beneath her. A scream was torn from her lips as she crumpled to the ground, her face twisted in pain.

Harry watched the battle unfold with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Injuries covered his arms and chest, the result of painful burns sustained during the fight. His leg throbbed, a constant reminder of the awkward landing he had experienced earlier. Despite his pain, he knew he couldn't stand idly by.

As Voldemort's breaths grew laboured, Harry recognized that this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. Struggling through the pain, he cautiously crept up behind the Dark Lord, his eyes filled with determination. Each step was deliberate, as he tried not to betray his presence or aggravate his injuries further.

With a surge of adrenaline, Harry lunged forward, attempting to snatch the wand from Voldemort's weakening grasp. His body screamed in protest, but he pushed through the pain, knowing that this might be their only chance at victory.

Voldemort, however, sensed Harry's movements and deftly sidestepped the lunge. He countered by seizing Harry's throat, his grip cold and unyielding. Harry gasped for air, his hands instinctively clutching at the hand that was choking him. To his astonishment, Voldemort's grip began to weaken as he released a guttural scream of pain, his hand crumbling into dust.

Harry didn't know how or why, but he understood that his touch was a weapon against the Dark Lord. He thrust his hands into Voldemort's face with all his might, and the Dark Lord's screams intensified as his entire body disintegrated into dust.

Tonks called out, her voice filled with relief and admiration, "I don't know what you did, Harry, but great job!" Behind her, Harry could see Hermione entering the chamber alongside Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. Their faces were etched with concern.

A hissing voice whispered Harry's name, and he turned to see Voldemort's face materializing from the dust. The particles then surged towards him, passing through him and escaping out of the chamber. As the dust touched him, Harry experienced a wave of dread unlike anything he had ever felt before. Darkness enveloped him, and he lost consciousness.

~~~o~~~

Harry slowly awakened, his eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit Hospital Wing. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the windows, casting eerie shadows upon the room. He immediately looked around for his friends, his heart pounding with concern. Relief washed over him as he spotted Jingles in a nearby hospital bed, his form still and peaceful.

However, his heart caught in his throat when he saw Daphne in another bed, her body convulsing as she appeared to be trapped in some sort of nightmarish state. Tonks lay in the bed next to his, her face pale and lined with exhaustion. Stirring from sleep due to Harry's movements, she blinked groggily before focusing on him with a weary smile. "Harry," she murmured, "you're awake."

Harry's gaze shifted back to Daphne and Jingles, worry etched in his expression. "Tonks, how are they? Are they going to be okay?"

Tonks sighed, her voice heavy with emotion. "Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis isn't too promising. Daphne is trapped in her own mind, living through an unthinkable nightmare. As for Jingles, he had barely any vital signs when they brought him here. His body was almost completely drained of blood, and Madam Pomfrey isn't sure if blood-replenishing potions will even work on cats."

Harry's heart clenched at the thought of his friends suffering, and he knew he couldn't just sit idly by. Determination filled his eyes as he carefully slid out of bed and approached Jingles. The small cat's stomach and front right paw were heavily bandaged, and Harry tenderly picked him up, cradling him in his arms.

Tonks' eyes widened in surprise, and she asked, "Harry, what are you doing?"

He looked back at her, resolve shining in his eyes. "Helping my friends," he replied firmly, his grip on Jingles tightening ever so slightly, as if to protect the fragile feline from further harm.

Harry gently placed Jingles on Daphne's bed, hoping that the presence of the cat might bring her some comfort. To his amazement and Tonks' astonishment, Daphne's convulsions ceased almost immediately. Her trembling hands instinctively reached out and pulled Jingles close to her chest, cuddling him against her.

Tonks stared at the sight, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Harry, how did you know that Jingles would have such an effect on her?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. "I didn't know for sure," he admitted, "I just had a feeling because of the connection they share."

Tonks gave him a questioning look, curiosity burning in her eyes. Sensing her unspoken question, Harry flushed slightly and asked sheepishly, "Please, don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

Tonks nodded, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Alright, I promise," she agreed, her tone light, "but you have to tell me more later. For now, you should get back into bed and get some rest yourself."

Harry acquiesced, knowing that she was right. He returned to his own bed, his thoughts still consumed by worry for his friends. As he lay there, the soft sounds of the Hospital Wing slowly lulled him into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with the hope that Daphne and Jingles would recover.

~~~o~~~

Daphne felt a wave of relief wash over her as the pain and torture that had plagued her seemed to dissipate. Though her body still ached, her primary concern was the pain she felt emanating from the connection to Jingles. With furrowed brows, she sent a gentle mental message, "Jingles, how are you?" When no response came, a sense of dread filled her.

Realising that she had only awakened within her own mind and not yet in her physical body, Daphne knew that any help she could offer Jingles would have to come through their connection. She concentrated intently on it, her face tense with effort, attempting to discern what had happened. Gradually, she felt the faint thud of Jingles' weakening heartbeat and sensed the agony from his torn stomach and shattered paw. As she delved deeper, memories of the harrowing events in the chamber unfolded before her, revealing how valiantly Jingles had fought to protect her and Harry.

The image of Jingles resigning himself to death, believing he had done enough to save his friends, filled Daphne with determination. "No!" she shouted in her mind, her thoughts racing through their connection. "I won't let you die. I can't. You're like a part of me."

She mustered all the magic she could and pushed it through the connection, her face contorted with effort, but it seemed to have no effect. However, moments later, Jingles' heartbeat grew stronger, the connection stabilised, and the pain it had caused vanished. His voice, weak but clear, rang out in her mind: "Thank you. I won't die on you, I promise. Now we should both get some rest. We've narrowly escaped death today."

A single tear rolled down Daphne's cheek as she took solace in Jingles' words. With a small, grateful smile, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful sleep.

~~~o~~~

Daphne's eyes fluttered open as she slowly woke up in the Hospital Wing. The first thing she saw was a blinding light directly in her face as Madam Pomfrey ran a diagnostic spell on her. The nurse's expression was a mixture of concentration and concern, her brows furrowed as she focused on the spell.

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake, dear," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed with relief, her face breaking into a warm smile. "Last night, it seemed like you might never wake up again. And now, you're completely fine."

Daphne blinked, trying to adjust to the light as she sat up. "It's all thanks to Jingles," she murmured, her voice still weak. "How is he?"

Madam Pomfrey's eyes softened as she glanced over at the black cat." Jingles is making a steady recovery, dear. His vital signs have improved greatly."

Harry, who was sitting on the edge of his bed nearby, added, "I moved Jingles onto your bed last night, Daphne. It must've helped with the healing process."

As they spoke, Dumbledore stood by the entrance of the Hospital Wing, having just entered the room. His eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Remarkable, Jingles' abilities seem to be," he mused, stroking his beard. "I must congratulate both of you, Harry and Daphne, for your courageous actions last night. Despite breaking a dozen or so school rules, I believe you both deserve recognition and reward for your bravery."

Daphne hesitated for a moment before replying, her voice firm, "I'd rather not be included in this, Professor. My parents wouldn't be too thrilled, I'm afraid."

Madam Pomfrey looked at Daphne with a questioning expression, but Dumbledore simply nodded in understanding, his wise eyes never leaving Daphne's face. "Of course," he said gently, "but remember, my door is always open should you ever require assistance or guidance."

Daphne narrowed her eyes and politely declined his offer, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Thank you, Headmaster, but I think I'll manage just fine." Her aversion to Dumbledore was evident in her tone.

The Headmaster didn't seem to take offense; instead, he smiled warmly. "Very well. I'm glad to see you're all on the way to recovery." With a final nod, he said his goodbyes and left the Hospital Wing.

Tonks, who had been listening to the conversation from her own bed, chimed in with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "We did get lucky, didn't we? I just had the worst night of my life." She grimaced as she recounted her experience, rubbing her knee gently. "The taste of Skele-Gro was absolutely disgusting, and the pain of regrowing the bones in my knee was unbearable. But it's a small price to pay for surviving that ordeal, I suppose."

The door to the Hospital Wing swung open, and Tracey and Hermione hurried inside, their faces lighting up when they saw Daphne awake. They rushed over to her, and Daphne sat up, opening her arms to embrace them. Warm hugs were exchanged, relief and joy written on their faces.

"Oh, Daphne, I'm so glad you're alright!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

"We've been so worried about you," Tracey chimed in, her voice cracking with emotion. "It's so good to see you awake."

As the group glanced over at Jingles, who was still unconscious, their expressions turned sombre. Daphne, sensing their worry, reassured them with a gentle smile. "It's fine," she whispered, making sure Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. "I can feel him healing through our connection."

Hermione and Tracey exchanged hopeful looks, and Hermione reached over to give Daphne's hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's amazing, Daphne. We'll all be here for both you and Jingles."

Their spirits lifted by Daphne's words, the group decided to meet in their secret hideout after classes later that day. Just then, Madam Pomfrey returned to check on Daphne and Harry once more. After a thorough examination, she announced that they were fit enough to attend classes but added a stern warning. "If you start to feel dizzy or experience any discomfort, come back here immediately."

At this, Tonks turned towards Madam Pomfrey, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "And how long will I be in for, Madam Pomfrey?"

Madam Pomfrey responded with a short, almost amused laugh. "You, Miss Tonks, are lucky to still have a functioning knee," she chided lightly. "Considering your injuries, you're going nowhere until at least tomorrow. And that's only if your knee heals as expected."

Tonks' face fell at Madam Pomfrey's words.

Daphne cast a sad glance at Jingles, her heart aching at the thought of leaving him behind. Tonks, noticing her concern, offered a comforting smile. "Don't worry, Daphne. I'll keep an eye on Jingles while you're gone."

Gratitude shone in Daphne's eyes, and she squeezed Tonks' hand in thanks. "Thank you, Tonks. I appreciate it." With a final look at Jingles, Daphne and the others left the Hospital Wing, ready to face the day ahead. Tracey linked her arm with Daphne's as they walked, offering silent support, while Hermione followed closely behind together with Harry.

~~~o~~~

The day passed by quickly, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, the students found solace in their classes. The normalcy of lessons and lectures was a welcomed relief compared to the harrowing events of the previous night. Each class seemed to go by faster than the last, their minds occupied with the thought of reuniting in the Room of Requirement.

After their final class, they hurried back to the Hospital Wing to check on Jingles before heading to their secret hideout. To their delight, they found the black cat with piercing blue eyes awake and resting on Tonks' bed, purring softly as she gently stroked his fur.

Daphne's face lit up with joy, her eyes sparkling with relief. "Jingles! You're awake!" she exclaimed, rushing over and carefully scooping the feline into a tight hug.

Harry, Hermione, and Tracey couldn't help but smile at the sight, relief washing over them as well. "We're so glad you're alright, Jingles," Hermione said softly, reaching out to stroke the cat's head.

Tracey chimed in, her voice warm and gentle, "We were really worried about you, buddy." She scratched Jingles behind his ear, causing him to purr louder.

"Be careful," Jingles cautioned through his connection with Daphne, his voice soft and weak. "My body still aches."

Madam Pomfrey approached, a warm smile on her face. She carefully examined Jingles, checking his bandages and testing his reflexes. After a thorough assessment, she gave the small cat the all-clear to leave the Hospital Wing. "He's made an incredible recovery, but make sure he doesn't overexert himself," she advised.

The group expressed their gratitude to Madam Pomfrey, then turned to say their goodbyes to Tonks. She grinned at them, giving each a playful punch on the shoulder. "You lot take care, alright? And don't go getting into any more trouble!" she teased, winking.

With Jingles cradled in Daphne's arms, the friends made their way to the Room of Requirement, excitement and anticipation building with each step. They knew they had much to discuss and plan, but for now, they were simply grateful to have made it through the ordeal together, stronger and more united than ever.

The group entered the Room of Requirement, the door closing behind them as the room adjusted to their needs. Comfortable couches and chairs appeared, forming a cosy circle for their discussion. They all knew they had much to discuss, particularly their plans for the summer and how to stay in touch.

"So, how are we going to communicate during the summer?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in thought as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Tracey's eyes lit up with an idea, and she leaned forward excitedly. "Why don't we have all letters to and from Daphne go through me? My parents won't mind me being friends with you lot, and I can pass the messages along."

The group nodded in agreement, recognizing the brilliance of the idea. Daphne chimed in, "We should also make sure to write regularly. If either Harry or I stop responding, the others should assume something's gone wrong and launch a rescue operation." Her voice was filled with determination.

They all concurred, understanding the importance of keeping each other safe. Harry added, "We have to stick together, no matter what."

The conversation then shifted to Jingles and what they should do with him over the summer. Tracey offered, "He could come home with me. Hopefully, he can get along with our family cat, Daisy." She smiled at the thought of the two cats becoming friends.

Jingles, however, had a different opinion. He spoke firmly through his connection with Daphne, "It's best that I go home with you, Daphne."

Daphne frowned, concern etched on her face. She bit her lip as she relayed Jingles' thoughts to the group. "But my parents would surely disapprove, and they might even extend their cruelty toward you."

Despite her concerns, Jingles remained adamant. "Our connection has grown so strong, we shouldn't be apart for long periods. I understand your worries, but I can take care of myself, and I will protect you."

Daphne hesitated, her heart heavy with worry. She had noticed the strange feeling that settled in when Jingles wasn't close by. Reluctantly, she agreed, knowing that their bond was now an essential part of their lives. The thought of having Jingles near her parents still frightened her, but she took some comfort in his reassurances.

Tracey looked at Daphne with a reassuring smile, sensing her friend's unease. The corners of her mouth lifted, and her eyes sparkled with warmth. "Don't worry, Daphne. You and Jingles will only spend three weeks with your parents, and then you'll come over to my place," she said, placing a comforting hand on Daphne's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Daphne nodded, her eyes softening as a genuine smile spread across her face. She thought about spending most of her summer with Tracey, and the idea of a change of scenery and being surrounded by friends made the upcoming break seem far more bearable.

Tracey then turned to Hermione, her enthusiasm shining through as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Hermione, you absolutely have to come over too, at least for a sleepover!"

Hermione's eyes lit up, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and she happily agreed, "I'd love to! But, I've never actually been to a sleepover before."

Tracey's bubbly personality overflowed as she clapped her hands together, her eyes alight with excitement. "Girl, you are going to love it! We can even practise magic at my place!"

Harry tried to put on his best fake smile, but the disappointment was still evident in his eyes. However, Tracey immediately saw through it. She offered him an apologetic look, her eyebrows knitting together in sympathy. "Harry, I'd love to have you over, but my parents wouldn't approve of a boy sleeping over. Maybe we could meet in Diagon Alley or something to spend an afternoon together?"

To everyone's surprise, Hermione chimed in with a teasing grin, one eyebrow raised playfully. "Oh, Tracey, I'm sure you'd prefer Harry's company over Daphne's and mine."

Tracey's cheeks flushed, and she playfully nudged Hermione, feigning indignation. "Hey, no need to tease!" She readjusted her ponytail with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "There's room for everyone in my summer plans!"

Harry's expression grew serious, his eyes searching Jingles' face as he shifted the conversation to a more uncomfortable topic. "Jingles, I have to ask... Is it true what Voldemort said? Were you there when my parents died?"

Jingles offered Harry an apologetic look, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and regret. He hesitated for a moment before focusing on a Pensieve, and the Room of Requirement promptly provided one, the magical basin shimmering into existence in front of them.

Jingles communicated to Daphne the workings of a Pensieve, his blue eyes serious and focused. As she relayed the information to the others, her expression was a mix of determination and apprehension. With Jingles' guidance, Daphne prepared to extract the memory from his feline mind.

Gently, she held her wand over Jingles' head, her hands shaking just a bit from the tension. The silvery strands of memory began to emerge, glistening as they swirled around her wand. Daphne carefully drew out the delicate threads, her concentration unwavering as she completed the intricate process. She then placed the memory into the Pensieve, and the group leaned in, their faces entering the swirling mist together, each wearing expressions of apprehension and curiosity.

When they re-emerged from the memory, each of them wore different expressions. Tracey shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief, "That was so surreal. I can't believe we just saw that." She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her voice tinged with awe.

Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed, placed a hand on her chin in contemplation. "Something was odd about the memory, though. It's like there was a piece missing or distorted, but I can't quite figure out what." Her eyes narrowed, clearly disturbed by the incomplete puzzle before them.

Harry, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on Jingles with a mix of emotions playing across his face. His jaw clenched as he struggled to process what he had just witnessed, and his hands tightened into fists on his lap.

Daphne, sensing Harry's inner turmoil, decided to explain further. She placed a comforting hand on his arm, her voice gentle but firm. "We kept it hidden because Jingles wasn't sure if the memory was even real. It seemed distorted, and we didn't want to bring it up without being certain."

Harry finally broke his silence, his voice hesitant and vulnerable as he looked into Jingles' eyes. "So, what does this mean for me? Was Jingles my family's cat?"

Jingles exchanged a glance with Daphne, his eyes filled with uncertainty. Daphne, sensing his concern, reached out and gently stroked his fur before nodding and relaying his thoughts. "Jingles doesn't know for sure. We would have to investigate this further, as it's the only lead to his past. He suggests that you could ask Professor McGonagall during your next tea session if your family had a cat since she seemed to know your parents rather well."

Tracey chimed in, her eyes bright with excitement as she leaned forward, her hands clasped together. "And don't forget about Hagrid! He might know something too."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed in determination as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "I'll ask them both. Jingles, if it turns out you were a part of my family, I'd be really happy to have at least one family member who survived that night."

Jingles' eyes softened with sympathy, and he nuzzled Harry's hand, his whiskers brushing against his skin, leaving a tingling sensation. He knew that this was precisely why he wanted to keep the memory hidden from Harry. The boy was hoping now that the memory was real, that Jingles was part of his family. Harry longed for a connection to his past so much that he would cling to even the slightest of chances. Jingles just feared that he would disappoint Harry if the memory proved to be false.

Hermione cleared her throat, drawing the attention of her friends with a sombre look in her eyes.

"Do you think... You-Know-Who is really gone this time?" Hermione asked, her voice soft but filled with the weight of their shared experiences.

A silence fell over the group. They exchanged glances, each lost in their own memories of the danger they had faced. Harry was the first to break the quiet. His green eyes held a determined glint that matched the firm set of his jaw.

"I don't believe he is," Harry said, his voice steady. "I don't know how or when, but I think we'll cross paths with him again. We need to be ready. We need to become stronger."

His words echoed through the room, reminding them all of the grim reality they faced. Yet, despite the sombre topic, a shared resolve began to solidify among them, a silent agreement that they would face whatever came their way together.

As the evening wore on and the shadows in the Room of Requirement deepened, curfew approached, and the atmosphere grew more sombre. The friends shared a round of heartfelt hugs, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they whispered their goodbyes. With heavy hearts and lingering glances, they separated, each heading back to their respective common rooms.

~~~o~~~

As the weeks flew by, the corridors of Hogwarts buzzed with activity and laughter. The end of the year approached rapidly, and the air within the ancient castle was filled with a blend of excitement and apprehension. The anticipation was palpable, and students found themselves walking a fine line between cherishing the last few weeks of the term and the mounting pressure of upcoming exams.

Harry had diligently asked both Hagrid and Professor McGonagall about whether his parents had ever owned a cat, but neither could provide a definitive answer. Hagrid scratched his beard thoughtfully as he mentioned that he remembered Lily discussing her desire to get a cat, but he couldn't say for sure if she had ever followed through with the idea. The uncertainty left Harry and Jingles with more questions than answers, but they remained determined to continue searching for any clues that could connect them to Harry's family.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team's final match against Ravenclaw was an epic showdown that had students from both houses on the edge of their seats. Despite the fierce competition, Ravenclaw ultimately emerged victorious, snatching the Snitch just moments before Gryffindor could. Even with the loss, Gryffindor's spirits remained high, landing them in second place for the Quidditch Cup this year. Oliver Wood, the ever-optimistic and driven team captain, passionately declared that next year would be their year to win the cup, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

With the end-of-year exams looming on the horizon, the castle was filled with the frantic energy of students trying to cram in as much knowledge as possible. The library was packed with students poring over books, and common rooms were abuzz with last-minute study groups. Amidst the chaos, Harry recalled that the Sorting Hat had requested to speak with him. He approached Professor McGonagall after class one day and inquired if it would be possible to arrange a meeting with the Hat. The professor, always willing to accommodate Harry's requests, assured him she would bring the Sorting Hat along to their next tea session.

As the day of their tea session arrived, Harry couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and nervous anticipation. He hesitated for a moment outside Professor McGonagall's office, taking a deep breath before knocking softly on the door.

"Come in, Mr. Potter," came McGonagall's crisp voice from within. Harry opened the door and stepped inside, finding the familiar surroundings of her office filled with shelves of books and various magical artefacts.

On her desk, he spotted the Sorting Hat, its age-worn fabric and stitching looking just as they had during his first encounter with it. Professor McGonagall gestured toward the hat and then poured tea for Harry, the aroma of bergamot and rose filling the room.

"Here you are, Mr. Potter," she said, handing him a steaming cup. "I'll leave you two to your conversation. Take your time." With a nod, she excused herself and stepped out of the office, closing the door gently behind her.

Harry took a sip of his tea, savouring the warmth and flavour before setting the cup down on the desk. He could feel the anticipation building as he looked at the Sorting Hat. Taking another deep breath, he slowly picked it up and placed it on his head.

As soon as the hat touched his unruly hair, it sprang to life. "Ah, Mr. Potter," it said, its voice echoing inside his mind. "We meet again. Now let's see how you have fared during your first year at Hogwarts." The hat grumbled a bit, sometimes a small 'oh' or 'ah' escaping it. "I see that you chose to confide in your friends about your situation. Very well done, together you will surely find a way to improve your situation, as well as the one for Miss Greengrass. Now, a small recommendation from me: Try to make at least one male friend. While I'm sure that you will appreciate being that close to some lovely ladies in a few years," Harry blushed at the implication as the hat continued, "there will also be topics that you probably will feel more comfortable discussing with a male friend, just as the girls will have topics they'd rather not discuss with you. This is all rather natural as we grow up."

Harry considered the boys in his year, but he realised that he didn't really know most of them. While Neville was always friendly with him, the boy was too shy for his own good and would be eaten alive by Tracey. His thoughts then landed on Jingles, and the hat chuckled, "Ah yes, the enigmatic feline. While certainly true that he is male, your only way to communicate with him is through Miss Greengrass. But let's stay on that topic for a while. Currently, you are putting way too much stake into him being a potential member of your family. You need to realise that, regardless of him being a part of your family, your friendship won't change. Jingles won't love you any less or any more because of it."

Harry's face fell slightly, but he realised that the Hat was right. Determined, he spoke up, "Alright, but I will still try to find out if only to uncover his past. I understand what you are saying, though, that I shouldn't be disappointed if it isn't true." The Hat agreed, "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Overall, I can see that you are on a good path. Continue deepening your friendships, and together you have a real chance to change your lives. Now, a word of caution."

Harry perked up, and the Hat continued, "Sooner or later, you will need the help of adults to solve your situation. I know that Miss Greengrass is strongly against it, and you yourself even chose to hide the truth from Professor McGonagall. I understand your fear and Miss Greengrass' fear as well. You will need help. Figure out who you want to trust."

Harry swallowed at the Hat's words. The hat then continued, "Now, to a topic I know you will dislike. Your fame, political power, and wealth. I know that during your sorting you were adamant that you didn't want to use them to your advantage, and I see that you haven't given it much thought, but do me the favour and consider it right now. You could easily use them to lift yourself out of your situation, with proper guidance, of course. Rescuing Miss Greengrass will be tougher, but still, having these resources available will make that endeavour a lot easier as well."

Harry considered the Hat's words carefully. He knew that sooner or later he would need to use them, but he couldn't deny that it would make things easier. "When you said 'with proper guidance,' did you have anyone particular in mind?" asked Harry. The Hat chuckled in response, "You would need someone with intricate knowledge of the wizarding world, who was raised to navigate the political playfield of the Wizengamot, but also someone who you can trust. Does that description ring a bell?"

Harry whispered as realisation hit him, "Daphne," and the Hat responded, "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Miss Greengrass took a calculated risk in getting closer to you, and just as I told you in our first meeting, no Slytherin offers their hand in friendship without expecting something in return. She is looking for a way out, the same as you do. So your goals align, and by now she has proven that you can trust her. That is all that I wanted to tell you; I believe you understand now the path you walk."

Harry nodded, "Indeed, thank you, Hat." He then took off the Hat and placed it onto the table. He waited for a while, until Professor McGonagall came back. They then had a shortened tea session, after which Harry left with newfound determination. He would have to talk with Daphne, but he figured it would be best to wait and see if their friendship would survive their first summer. After all, Daphne's parents hated him.

~~~o~~~

The last few weeks of the school year seemed to pass by in a blur. The students were busy preparing for their final exams, and the atmosphere in the castle was filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. The weather grew warmer, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the air as the students immersed themselves in their studies.

The evening had started to settle in as Harry found Tonks waiting for him after dinner. Her typically vibrant hair appeared subdued under the dimming light of the Great Hall, but the expectant glint in her eyes remained as bright as ever. It was a silent yet potent reminder of a promise he had made to her.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Harry led the way, guiding Tonks through the echoing corridors of Hogwarts, their footfalls creating a rhythmic soundtrack to their journey. Their destination was the Room of Requirement.

As the door materialised and opened into a comfortable, warmly lit room, Harry took note of Tonks' reaction. Her wide-eyed surprise was evident, and she stood for a moment, absorbing the unexpected sight. It was a testament to the room's elusive nature that even after seven years, it had remained a secret to her.

They settled into plush chairs, their forms enveloped in a cosy ambiance, the room seeming to anticipate their need for a private, relaxed setting. Harry began unravelling the tale of Daphne and Jingles, starting with the inexplicable bond that had formed between them - a bond that was mysterious, yet undeniably present.

His explanation delved into the transformation of this bond, strengthened by the casting of the plea spell. As he detailed the circumstances surrounding their discovery of the spell, Harry found himself blushing slightly, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. Tonks, despite her role as Head Girl, responded with a wry smile, choosing not to reprimand him given the nearing end of her tenure.

When Harry revealed that Daphne could now directly communicate with Jingles, Tonks' excitement was palpable. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and her hands animatedly gestured in the air, a clear sign of the flurry of questions she was eager to ask the wise feline during her remaining days at Hogwarts.

When the final exam results came back, Daphne secured the top spot in her year, with Hermione trailing closely behind. Harry landed in fifth place, and Tracey managed to secure the ninth position. Harry and Tracey promised each other that they would work even harder next year, while Hermione playfully bickered with Daphne.

Soon, it was time to leave Hogwarts for the summer. The five friends found a compartment together on the Hogwarts Express, sharing stories and laughter as they reminisced about their first year at the magical school. The train rattled along the tracks, swaying gently as it carried them back to the Muggle world.

As they settled into their compartment, Jingles leaped onto Harry's lap, purring contentedly. Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "I still can't believe Daphne beat me by just a few points. It's all because of Jingles, you know." Daphne smirked and raised an eyebrow, "Oh, come on, Hermione. You know I studied hard too. And besides, you did amazing as well!"

The friends chatted animatedly, their faces lighting up with excitement as they recounted their adventures. They played with Jingles, who entertained them by chasing after their quills or performing acrobatic leaps. The scent of chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties filled the air as they munched on treats from the trolley.

As they approached King's Cross Station, Daphne suggested that they should disembark separately in case her parents were waiting for her. The friends reluctantly agreed, knowing that this would be the last time they would see each other for a while. They exchanged heartfelt goodbyes, promising to write often and meet up whenever possible.

Harry felt a sense of dread creeping up on him as the train came to a stop at the platform. The thought of spending the summer with the Dursleys weighed heavily on his heart, but he clung to the hope that the time would pass quickly. As he stepped off the train and onto the bustling platform, he glanced back at his friends one last time, their faces already fading into the crowd, and steeled himself for the long summer ahead.

AN:

To explain why Voldemort couldn't cast another killing curse: In this story I have provided explanations throughout the chapters about magical power. To "balance" the killing curse, as I want to avoid it being thrown around carelessly in later fights with Deatheaters. To put it into perspective, in terms of magical power for one Avada Kedavra you can cast hundreds of stunners. Meaning the average adult can cast one Avada Kedavra, but it is always a risk. If the opponent dodges it you just wasted most of your magical power, putting you at a huge disadvantage for the fight.

Voldemort is so powerful that he can cast multiple killing curses without breaking a sweat. He has immense magic power reserves, but Quirrell doesn't. Hence he didn't expect that he can't cast two in a row, which gave Tonks a real chance.