Chapter 20 – An uncomfortable confrontation
The comforting sounds of chatter and cutlery clinking had faded away into the Hogwarts night. Harry, Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, and Jingles now found themselves in the dimly lit Room of Requirement. The room had transformed itself into a cosy den, complete with a roaring fireplace, plush armchairs, and a vast oak table covered in stacks of Hogwarts' academic course books.
Daphne leaned back against her chair, her blond hair catching the firelight as she held up a course brochure. Her normally cool blue eyes were filled with deep thought. "Alright, let's talk electives," she said, her voice soft but carrying in the quiet room. "Any preferences?"
"I've been considering Ancient Runes," Hermione chimed in, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her keen eyes already scanned one of the textbooks, always eager to dive into a new academic challenge.
Tracey gave a cheery laugh, her black hair bouncing as she shrugged her shoulders, "Why am I not surprised, Hermione? And here I thought you'd surprise us this time." Her brown eyes sparkled with a playfulness that brought life to the room. "I guess Ancient Runes does sound fascinating. How about you, Harry?"
Harry rubbed his neck, glancing at Hermione, then at Tracey. "I was considering Care of Magical Creatures," he said, his green eyes flicking from one friend to another. "Hagrid's passion for the subject is… well, infectious."
Jingles, lounging by the fire, let out a low meow, his tail flicking in amusement. Daphne, the only one able to understand him, smirked and patted his head gently. "Don't laugh, Jingles. That's a valid choice."
Amid the jovial chatter and laughter, they finally reached a consensus on the electives. Hermione and Daphne, attracted by the intellectual rigour and challenging subject matter, elected to pursue Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. On the other hand, Harry and Tracey found themselves drawn to the diverse subject combination of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures, promising an immersive experience with the magical world beyond classroom confines. With a shared nod of satisfaction, the discussion came to a natural close.
As the room quietened down, their eyes began to drift naturally to Harry. He was an island of stillness in the shifting current, his verdant eyes flickering across each face in silent contemplation. His lips, previously curved in a warm smile, were now pressed into a resolute line, indicating the churning thoughts beneath his calm exterior.
A moment passed, and then another, the silence stretching thin. Just when the silence seemed to have swallowed the room whole, Harry cleared his throat, an unexpected sound that echoed against the ancient stone walls.
"There's...there's something I want to show you all," he finally voiced out, his baritone resonating in the hushed room, a solemn note amidst the dying echoes of laughter.
His words hung in the air, eliciting silent questions that reflected in the eyes of his friends. And as though the room itself was attuned to their curiosity, a Pensieve appeared on the sturdy wooden table in the middle of the room. The basin, filled with an ethereal shimmer, felt almost like a void waiting to be filled with untold tales.
Harry's hand moved up to his head, not to pluck a strand of hair but to his temple, wand in hand. His green eyes closed in concentration as he gently pulled out a silvery thread of memory from his mind. With a delicate movement, he guided the strand into the waiting Pensieve, the pool swallowing it and transforming it into a horrifying tableau of his encounter from days past. The room fell into a hushed silence as they prepared to relive the chilling memory with Harry.
"I'll... I'll go first," Harry said, taking a deep breath before bending over the basin and plunging into the memory. One by one, the others followed suit. Hermione's hand shook slightly as she reached out, touching the swirling surface of the memory and disappearing within. Daphne, always composed, dipped her head into the Pensieve without hesitation, while Tracey shot Harry a supportive smile before joining the others. Jingles, perched on the edge of the table, looked at Harry with a knowing nod before he, too, leaped into the memory.
When they emerged back into the Room of Requirement, their faces were etched with shock, the Dementor's chilling presence still fresh in their minds. Daphne was the first to regain her composure, her lips pressing into a thin line as she shot Harry a pointed glare.
"Harry," she scolded, her voice ringing with a mix of annoyance and concern. "You should never have been out there alone. It's bad enough that you went without telling anyone, but to fly without McGonagall's permission? It was incredibly reckless!"
Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, nodded in agreement. Her hand twisted into the folds of her robe, her usual habit when she was nervous. "Harry, we've told you before - rules exist for a reason. What you did... It was just irresponsible."
Jingles, however, seemed less focused on Harry's actions and more on the peculiarities of the memory. He delicately groomed a paw, the deep blue of his eyes seeming to reflect the very memory they had just viewed. "Odd, isn't it?" the black cat mused, hissing in Parseltongue, "Professor McGonagall's reaction, I mean. When she heard about the black dog..."
Harry nodded, offering Jingles an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Jingles. Finally, someone's focusing on the important part" he added, after he translated for the group.
Tracey, ever the peacemaker, leaned forward, her eyes softening as she addressed Harry. "Maybe she was just in shock, Harry. The Dementors were not supposed to be on school grounds. And to find out you nearly died... It must've been terrifying for her."
There was a moment of silence as the group processed Tracey's words. It was true, the Dementors had been an unexpected and dangerous variable. Harry's recklessness aside, the mystery of the black dog remained. With a collective nod, they agreed to focus their efforts on the enigmatic creature, vowing to find out as much as they could. The memory of Harry's encounter had planted a seed of curiosity, and they were eager to unravel the mystery of the black dog.
As the echoes of their agreement began to fade, Harry decided it was time to bring forth another matter that had been occupying his mind. Holding up a parchment that bore the unmistakable seal of the Gringotts goblins, he caught the attention of his friends.
"I received a letter from the goblins," Harry stated solemnly, his green eyes serious under his dishevelled bangs. "I thought I should share its contents with all of you."
Jingles, who had been curled up comfortably next to Daphne, lifted his head at Harry's words, his eyes now focused on the unfolding event.
Unrolling the parchment, Harry began to read aloud the formalities and conditions outlined within. His friends listened attentively, their casual demeanour shifting to more serious, reflective expressions. The words hung heavy in the air, and as the implications of the letter settled, their collective mood grew decidedly more sombre.
Once Harry finished, Daphne, her clear blue eyes flitting over the letter one last time, finally broke the silence. "I'm not surprised that Dumbledore is listed as Regent Potter," she stated matter-of-factly, her fingers delicately tracing the goblin seal.
Harry looked at her, perplexed. "Why's that?" he inquired, his green eyes narrowed slightly.
Daphne met his gaze steadily. "Everyone has their own motives, Harry. Even Dumbledore," she began. "Over the years, he has been subtly consolidating power. I've observed this, albeit not everyone does."
Harry frowned, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked at Daphne, taking in the seriousness of her expression.
Daphne's gaze hardened a touch. "I will never trust him, Harry," she stated with a chilling finality. "He didn't hesitate to use Legilimency on me to glean the information he wanted."
Harry's stomach twisted. Dumbledore using Legilimency on Daphne felt...wrong. He nodded in understanding, his mind reeling with this revelation.
"But what can I do about Dumbledore being my regent?" Harry asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
Daphne's face turned thoughtful, her lips pursing slightly. "Sadly, Harry," she began slowly, "there isn't much you can do until you come of age. Unless you have legitimate grounds to argue your case before the Wizengamot to change your regent or request for emancipation. But that's going to be difficult. Dumbledore was close to your parents, and he's too careful to let anything that could be used against him slip."
Harry nodded, his jaw set. There were battles yet to be fought, and for now, this was one he'd have to back down from. As he glanced at the enchanted ceiling, he noticed the stars beginning to twinkle. Curfew was almost upon them.
"Daphne, could you perhaps explain more about these political nuances in the coming days?" Harry asked, breaking the heavy silence.
Daphne nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips. "Certainly, Harry," she agreed, her voice softening.
As the enchanting hour of curfew neared, they all prepared to leave the Room of Requirement. Daphne, Tracey, and Jingles made their way to the Slytherin common room. Harry and Hermione, each lost in their own thoughts, slowly trudged back towards the welcoming warmth of the Gryffindor common room.
~~~o~~~
The last vestiges of the day were slipping away, swallowed by the night, when Daphne was startled out of her pre-sleep daze by a knock echoing against the thick wood of her dorm room door. Jingles, the sleek black cat resting at her feet, lifted his head at the sound, his blue eyes blinking sleepily. Daphne's brow creased in puzzlement. She hadn't been expecting anyone at this hour.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice laced with fatigue as she slid out from beneath the warm bedcovers, padding softly across the plush carpet.
The reply came instantly, a familiar voice muffled by the sturdy door. "It's me, Daphne. Tori."
Astoria. Relief and surprise mingled in Daphne's chest, and she quickly opened the door. Her little sister stood in the hallway, her brown hair tousled, a look of anxiety dimming the usually bright blue of her eyes.
Daphne's surprise gave way to concern. Without a word, she reached out, pulling Astoria into a fierce hug, her heart swelling with affection for her younger sibling. Their enforced distance over the summer, a ruse to keep their parents oblivious to their bond, had been an ordeal for them both.
Astoria stood stiff for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected display of emotion. But slowly, she melted into the embrace, her arms winding around Daphne as she returned the hug.
As they broke apart, Daphne held Astoria at arm's length, studying her. "What's wrong, Tori?" she asked, her voice soft. During their conversation, Jingles had padded over, and Astoria bent to stroke his head, her fingers slipping through the soft fur.
Astoria's face contorted in a frown, her eyes still on Jingles. "Something... odd happened at the start of summer. I... I wanted to tell you about it," she began, her voice shaking slightly.
Daphne guided her towards the bed, seating them both on the edge. "Tell me," she urged, her hand comforting on Astoria's shoulder.
Astoria inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. "Our parents," she started, her face pale, "They were discussing Sirius Black's escape. Their tone... It wasn't what you'd expect. They sounded angry, upset... almost as if they hated him. Isn't he supposed to be the Dark Lord's right-hand man?"
Daphne frowned, her brow furrowing as she considered Astoria's words. Her gaze was distant, thoughtful. "Perhaps it's jealousy. Maybe they're resentful of his 'glory' or status," she offered, her tone quiet but firm. "Or, it could be an indication of their true motives. We both know they were never the 'true' Death Eaters... they're more opportunists than believers."
Astoria nodded, her fingers idly stroking Jingles, who purred softly. "I just... felt you should know," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It seemed... important."
Daphne reached out to squeeze Astoria's hand, smiling softly. "I appreciate it, Tori. It's good to know." She rose, opening her arms in an invitation for another hug. As Astoria stepped into the embrace, Daphne held her close. "Goodnight, Tori."
Once the door had closed behind Astoria, Daphne slipped back into bed, Jingles curling up against her side. His purrs vibrated against her, soothing in the quiet of the room.
"He should be a hero among the Death Eaters, shouldn't he?" Jingles communicated his thoughts to her, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming in through the enchanted ceiling. "There may be more to this than we've considered."
Daphne shrugged, her gaze falling on the enchanted ceiling where the night sky was studded with stars. "Honestly, I don't give much thought to what our parents think," she replied, her voice a soft sigh against the quiet of the room. "Let's just... sleep on it, okay?" The unspoken agreement echoed in their bond as the pair drifted off into the night, their minds leaving the worries of the day behind.
~~~o~~~
The ancient stones of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom hummed with the weight of centuries, echoing the vibrant chatter of students settling into their seats. As the hustle of the classroom began to abate, Harry, Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, and Jingles occupied a cluster of desks at the room's far end. Harry nervously tapped his quill on the worn wood of the desk, while Hermione fussily organised her parchment and ink. Daphne's cool demeanour was only slightly betrayed by her playing with the end of her hair. Tracey, on the other hand, simply watched the classroom with wide, excited eyes. Jingles, a picture of feline tranquillity, lounged comfortably on Daphne's lap.
Just as the last echoes of the ringing bell subsided, the door creaked open to admit Professor Lupin, whose friendly and easy smile cast a warm, inviting aura over the room. "Good morning, class," he began, his voice carrying across the room.
Eager attention met his opening words as he unveiled the day's topic. "Today, we'll be delving into the world of aquatic Dark creatures. More specifically, Grindylows."
A wave of murmurs swept over the class. Lupin waited for the whispers to die down before continuing. "Grindylows," he said, emphasising each syllable, "are native to Great Britain and Ireland. They tend to populate murky, weed-ridden underwater areas and are quite hostile to humans. Imagine pale green, skinny creatures with long, straggly fingers — that's a Grindylow. Those fingers are not just for show, mind you. They are excellent at choking their victims."
As Lupin progressed with the discussion, introducing various defensive techniques, Harry found himself increasingly distracted. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin's glance shifting to him intermittently. Sometimes the gaze shifted to Daphne, or was it Jingles? The line of sight was difficult to pin from Harry's position.
Once the lesson drew to a close, the students hurriedly packed their belongings. "Mr. Potter," Lupin's voice cut through the noise, "could you stay behind for a moment?" The room quietened momentarily, eyes flicking between Harry and Lupin.
Harry felt the heat of their gazes, his throat growing dry as he replied, "Sure, Professor." Hermione, Tracey, and Daphne gave him inquisitive looks. He managed a reassuring smile, feeling the comforting pressure of Hermione's hand on his arm and Daphne's firm nod, before they left the room, the door closing with a soft click behind them.
When they were alone, Lupin turned to face him, his green eyes thoughtful. "Harry," he started, the name lingering in the silence of the room. "Do you know who I am?"
Harry's heart pounded in his chest, a torrent of thoughts swirling in his mind. He gripped the edge of the desk as he found his voice, "Yes... I know that you were one of my father's closest friends."
Saying the words stirred an odd feeling in his stomach, a confusing blend of bitterness and curiosity. This was a man who had been entwined with his parents' lives, yet absent in his own. But Harry knew he had to tread carefully, to understand before jumping to conclusions. He stared at Lupin, searching the man's face for some sign of the answers he craved. His voice softer now, he added, "That's what I know..." The words hung heavily in the air, the echoing silence engulfing them.
Lupin's gaze held steady on Harry, confirming his response with a slow nod. "Indeed," he admitted, his rough voice lowered. "James, Lily, and I... we were close friends."
As the moment lingered, a silence falling between them, Lupin's gaze lost its focus. He seemed to be somewhere else entirely, reliving memories of the past that were so visceral they transfigured his entire countenance. When he blinked, pulling himself back to the present, his eyes fell back onto Harry's, a different kind of question surfacing.
"Harry," he began, his tone measured, a note of confusion underlining his words. "Why aren't you in possession of your mother's cat?"
Harry was taken aback, his eyebrows furrowing as he grappled with Lupin's query. "My mother's cat?" he echoed, the confusion thick in his voice. "I... I didn't know she had a cat."
Lupin seemed equally surprised by this revelation, his brows knotting together. "You didn't?" he mused, his gaze falling as he absorbed this information. He looked back up at Harry, something akin to determination setting his features. "It was Jingles," he explained, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "The cat that spent the entire lesson on Miss Greengrass' lap. Lily bought him as a kitten shortly after you were born."
A surge of surprise washed over Harry. Their group had speculated about Jingles' connection to his family, but hearing it confirmed from Lupin himself hit differently. It propelled him into a silent whirl of thoughts. Should he confide in Lupin about their deductions? Should he leverage the opportunity to learn more about Jingles and possibly gain insight into the events of Halloween night, 1981? Or should he play dumb, retaining the safety of ignorance?
Before Harry could reach a conclusion, Lupin continued, "If Miss Greengrass doesn't comply, Harry, I'll intervene. I've already discussed this with Professor Dumbledore." His gaze hardened, leaving no room for argument. "This... this talk of Jingles being a 'Hogwarts Mascot' is irrelevant. Jingles is part of the Potter family. He should rightfully be with you."
Caught off guard by the firmness of Lupin's words, Harry hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he looked up again, his gaze met Lupin's unwavering one. "Sir," he began cautiously, "Jingles does spend a lot of time with me. He seems to... prefer Daphne's company, but that's his choice. I wouldn't interfere with that."
The atmosphere in the room seemed to chill as Lupin's voice, thoughtful yet laced with a peculiar undertone, drifted across to Harry. "I wonder what Miss Greengrass did to... to ensnare Jingles." He mused aloud, his fingers steepled in front of him as if pondering an intricate puzzle.
Harry felt his anger prickling at the edges of his consciousness, the implication in Lupin's words sparking an unexpected surge of defensiveness. His hands tightened into fists beneath the cover of the table, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to maintain his composure. His features, however, remained stoic, a placid surface that belied the tumultuous sea churning beneath.
Lupin, oblivious or indifferent to Harry's growing unease, continued his probing. His green eyes held a sharp glint as they scrutinised Harry's face, as though searching for something. "What do you know about Daphne Greengrass, Harry? Specifically, her parents?" he asked, his tone bordering on investigative.
Harry's features hardened, his gaze locking onto Lupin's. He could see where the conversation was going, and the taste was bitter. Despite the palpable tension, his voice was level, the words steady as he responded, "Her parents were Death Eaters."
Lupin's eyebrows rose, surprise briefly etching lines onto his weather-beaten face at Harry's admission. But the surprise quickly faded, replaced with a sombre gravity that tugged down the corners of his mouth. "No, Harry," he corrected quietly, "not 'were'. They still 'are'. Death Eaters." He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And yet, despite knowing this, you still choose to befriend Miss Greengrass. Can't you see how dangerous that is?"
The words struck Harry like a physical blow, the hot sting of Lupin's accusation igniting a fury within him that was as fierce as dragon fire. His jaw set, hard and resolute, a feral intensity sparking in his emerald eyes as he squared his shoulders, ready for battle.
"Daphne isn't a danger to me," Harry declared, his voice echoing defiantly in the silence of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "In fact, without her, I wouldn't be alive right now."
His eyes bore into Lupin's with unwavering intensity, holding his gaze as he delivered his next words with an icy precision that chilled the room. "The real danger lies in the fact that if her parents knew about our friendship, they would probably pull her out of Hogwarts... or do something far worse. I'm the one putting her in danger."
The stark revelation hung in the air, its weight acting as a palpable force that dampened the once lively atmosphere. Lupin, initiator of this confrontation, visibly grappled with the unexpected confession. His steady gaze faltered under the onslaught of Harry's words, replaced by a flicker of surprise. The faint echo of Harry's declaration reverberated off the walls, its resonance stark in the room's newfound quietude.
A thunderous pulse drummed in Harry's chest, a surge of righteous anger building a formidable pressure within him. His emerald gaze hardened onto Lupin, a tangible intensity radiating from the young wizard. "You need to rethink your approach, Professor," he pronounced, his voice cutting through the still air.
Each word was wrought with a resolution as sturdy as castle walls. "You claim to have been a close friend of my parents, yet where were you throughout my childhood? Nowhere." The stinging accusation echoed in the room, each syllable punctuated with an icy finality.
"And now, suddenly, you believe you have the right to dictate who I should be friends with? What I should or shouldn't do?" Harry's eyes were twin flames of defiance, his voice thrumming with the rhythm of his unyielding determination. "That's not going to happen." The last sentence hung in the air, a promise as steadfast as Harry's resolve.
Lupin seemed taken aback by Harry's vehement response. His mouth opened and closed in stunned silence, an apology stammering out, but Harry wouldn't let him finish. "Actions speak louder than words, Professor Lupin," he cut in, his words spoken with a hard edge of defiance. "I'm willing to get to know one of my father's close friends, but not like this. Not under these circumstances."
With that, Harry stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. His gaze met Lupin's once more, a silent promise hanging in the air between them. Without waiting for Lupin's response, he turned on his heel, striding forcefully towards the door. The sound of the door closing behind him left a poignant echo in the room, a testament to the confrontation that had just occurred.
~~~o~~~
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry stepped into the mystical Room of Requirement, feeling the comforting hum of magic envelop him. The rest of his friends were already there, their eyes immediately drawn to his sombre expression.
"Harry, you okay?" Tracey's usually bright voice was noticeably filled with worry. She stood up, her hands wringing together nervously.
"I need to show you something," Harry declared, his voice heavy with resolve. He procured his wand from his robes and pointed it to his temple. The spell he uttered was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it echoed through the silent room. A silver mist spilled from his wand tip, morphing into a spectral orb.
With a slight tremble in his hand, he guided the orb into the Pensieve. The shimmering pool of thought and memory rippled upon contact, images and sounds enveloping the room. One by one, his friends bent down to dip their faces into the swirling mist, their minds pulled into the replay of Harry's distressing encounter with Lupin.
It was an eerie spectacle, watching a conversation they hadn't been a part of. The harsh words, the heated debate, the angry accusations – it all resonated in the air, the echoes of the past reverberating even after the memory ended.
As they retracted from the Pensieve, silence fell once again. Hermione, her forehead creased with thought, finally spoke up. "I suppose it's a sort of relief to have confirmation about Jingles," she began, her tone measured. "Lily's cat... That's another piece of the puzzle, isn't it? Maybe we should consider delving deeper into Lily's past..."
She couldn't finish her sentence. The icy shards of Daphne's voice sliced through her thoughts. "How dare he!" Daphne exploded, her voice a venomous hiss. Her blue eyes were incandescent with fury, her cold aloofness replaced by a fiery anger they'd rarely seen. Her hand came down hard against the table, the sound a sharp crack that echoed ominously around the room.
"He thinks...he thinks I'm like them! My parents...those monsters!" Her voice wavered with suppressed emotion. The word 'monsters' seemed to leave a bitter taste on her tongue. "That I pose a threat to Harry! That I'm...I'm a Death Eater in training!"
Her words hung in the air like a gong, their gravity etching deeper lines of worry onto their faces. The room was filled with a mix of shock and concern as they all rose, instinctively wanting to offer comfort. Tracey, usually so bubbly, was speechless, her eyes wide. She reached out, her fingers brushing Daphne's shaking arm in a silent offer of support.
Jingles, who had been quiet till now, approached Daphne with careful, deliberate steps. His fur bristled, the usually tranquil blue eyes hardened with resolve. He circled her feet, rubbing his body against her legs, his purring a soft vibration in the room - a desperate attempt to calm the storm of her emotions.
Harry, his green eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and empathy, tried to reason with her. "Daphne, Lupin was out of line, I don't believe..."
His words were futile. It was clear that the damage had been done. With a seething look at them, Daphne whirled around, her golden hair a furious halo around her. "I need some fresh air," she declared, her voice a strangled whisper, before disappearing through the door with a forceful slam.
As the reverberations of the slammed door faded, an awkward silence clung to the room. Jingles then turned his gaze to Harry. His voice, albeit only heard by Harry, resonated through the room, "I'll follow her, make sure she's fine," he promised in Parseltongue, his voice full of concern.
Nodding gratefully, Harry managed a small, "Thank you, Jingles." With that, the black cat trotted out of the room, following the trail of his distressed companion.
Left in the Room of Requirement, Harry, Hermione, and Tracey were a triad of silence. The echoes of the altercation lingered in the air, a sharp reminder of the growing tensions and the reality of the struggles they were navigating.
Harry, his hands fidgeting in his lap, took a deep breath, the air heavy with the remnants of Daphne's anger. He managed to lift his gaze from his hands to his friends, an unreadable expression playing on his face. "Hermione," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "you were saying something about looking into my mum's past."
Hermione nodded, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to recollect her previous thoughts. The idea was barely a half-formed thought, a suggestion tossed into the wind, but it seemed to resonate with Harry now.
Tracey, however, cut in before she could respond. "Are you kidding, Harry?" she exclaimed, her eyes flickering with disbelief. "Daphne's out there, hurting, and you want to play detective?"
He met her accusatory gaze with a calm one. "Daphne's strong," Harry answered, his voice as steady as his gaze. "She's been through worse. And she has Jingles with her." He added with a reassuring nod. "He can calm her down better than any of us."
Tracey's eyes softened, her indignation melting away at Harry's rational words. The trust he had in Daphne, the unwavering faith in her resilience, managed to diffuse the tension in the room. "Alright," she conceded, her fingers absently toying with a loose thread on her robes.
After a moment of contemplation, Tracey picked up the thread of the conversation. "Maybe we could ask Professor McGonagall," she suggested, her tone thoughtful. "She must know something about Lily. She was her teacher, after all, and head of Gryffindor. And Lily must have had some friends. Maybe they could provide some insights."
Hermione's eyes lit up at the suggestion, her brain already leaping ahead with possibilities. "It might be worth a shot," she agreed, her head bobbing in agreement. "McGonagall might even know who Lily's close friends were."
Harry nodded slowly, the gears turning in his head. "That... actually sounds like a good idea. Let's do it." His voice held a note of determination as he concluded, looking at the place where Daphne had stormed off, his thoughts already drifting to the potential secrets hidden in his mother's past.
~~~o~~~
Jingles located Daphne nestled beneath an old, wide-branched beech tree, its leaves providing a canopy of shade against the summer afternoon's golden warmth. Daphne's figure was drawn in and compact, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat overlooking the placid Black Lake. Its still surface mirrored the clear blue sky above, a picture of serenity that sharply contrasted with the turmoil evident in Daphne's downcast figure.
A soft, almost inaudible, sniffle reached Jingles' ears. Daphne's usually impassive face was streaked with tears, her pale blue eyes, usually so guarded and cool, now shimmered with raw emotion. Her shoulders trembled lightly, the occasional shudder passing through her frame. The sight broke Jingles' heart; he was used to her strength, to her ironclad control, and seeing her so vulnerable was wrenching.
Gently, without a sound, Jingles padded over the soft grass and carefully positioned himself next to her, his blue eyes radiating a concern that echoed through their unique mental connection. He nudged his head under her hand, his soft purr offering a comforting rhythm in the disturbing stillness. "Daphne," he transmitted soothingly, "tell me what's wrong."
Daphne's fingers tangled in his black fur as she sought physical comfort from his presence. Her chest shuddered with the effort of restraint as she finally opened up, her voice barely audible above the lapping of the lake's water against the shoreline. "It's just... I didn't anticipate how deeply it would cut, Jingles," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Being compared to... them... my parents."
The fur under her fingers vibrated with Jingles' deep, soothing purr, a constant presence grounding her amidst the turmoil of emotions. "Lupin doesn't know you as we do," he tried to reassure her. "He's made a premature judgement. Perhaps your reaction is so strong because you vehemently reject what your parents represent. That's a testament to your strength, Daphne."
A bitter chuckle erupted from Daphne, though it held no humour. "That's putting it lightly," she retorted, her grip on Jingles' fur tightening. Her tears had dried, leaving behind a steely resolve in her eyes. "Lupin's an absolute fool. And to dare judge me based on them..."
Feeling the simmering anger underneath her words, Jingles couldn't help but agree. His purr echoed the same sentiment as he rubbed his head soothingly against her hand. "Lupin is undoubtedly a fool," he concurred. "But he might know more about... my past."
At this, Daphne stilled, her fingers freezing in Jingles' fur. She looked down at him, her expression softening with understanding. "I hadn't considered that," she said quietly, her anger momentarily forgotten as she considered Jingles' feelings.
A heavy silence descended upon them, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant calls of birds. As Daphne's fingers resumed their soft strokes over Jingles' fur, she leaned her head back against the tree trunk. They sat together, Daphne's steady breaths syncing with the rhythmic purring of Jingles. He rubbed his head against her hand, their silent bond providing a mutual comfort that words often failed to convey.
As they continued to sit under the tree, looking out over the calm Black Lake, a sense of understanding passed between them. They were each other's support, each other's comfort. In their shared silence, they drew strength, leaning on one another amidst the trials that Hogwarts continued to throw at them.
~~~o~~~
The afternoon light filtered through the windows of the Room of Requirement, casting a warm, inviting glow over the group of students gathered there. Gone was the tranquil study space they usually congregated in; in its place stood an expansive training arena, each corner occupied with a different obstacle for them to tackle.
Daphne was the first to break the silence, stepping into the spotlight as she addressed her friends. Her blond hair hung loosely around her face, framing the remnants of the storm that raged in her blue eyes earlier. "We should train today," she declared, her voice resonating with determination.
A surprised silence followed her announcement, the friends all too used to the comfortable rhythm of their usual study sessions. But as her meaning sank in, Harry was quick to respond, his eyes alight with enthusiastic agreement.
"Yes, Daphne's right." Harry was on his feet, his face resolute. "We've been focused on our studies, but we can't ignore the danger that's out there. Sirius Black... we need to be prepared."
His words sparked a new energy in the room, a sense of purpose taking hold. Hermione's lips formed a firm line, nodding her agreement while Tracey, with her energetic personality, was instantly roused, bouncing on her toes in anticipation.
It was Jingles who finally drew the group's attention to the centre of the room. His black fur contrasted against the warm glow of the setting sun, and his blue eyes held a calm wisdom as he looked over his charges. "I think it's time we moved from theory to practice," he conveyed to Daphne, who relayed it to the others.
The training was rigorous but methodical. Jingles led them through various spells, each one more challenging than the last. 'Protego', 'Stupefy', cutting hexes, piercing hexes, a myriad of jinxes – each incantation echoed within the room, followed by their visible effects on the animated targets Jingles had conjured.
The room was alight with the buzz of magic, their spells flying in a colourful array of sparks and blasts. Despite the intense focus required, it wasn't all business. There were bouts of laughter when a spell didn't quite hit its mark, or someone's wand movement resulted in an unexpected effect. But the underlying seriousness of their purpose never waned.
As the last spell was cast and the final echoes of their practice died down, Jingles surveyed the room. His eyes glowed with satisfaction and pride. "You're making remarkable progress," he conveyed, his purr vibrating with approval. "Soon, we'll be ready to conduct actual practice battles."
His announcement held the room in a momentary silence. Wide eyes and expressions of surprise met his statement. Then, slowly, a sense of determination began to replace the shock. Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration and Tracey's fist clenched with determination.
Daphne nodded silently, her earlier stormy emotions replaced by an icy resolve. They all shared a look of determination, their resolve reflecting the setting sun's rays. Each of them felt a new sense of purpose and anticipation for what lay ahead. Their journey to becoming not just students, but capable witches and wizards, had truly begun.
~~~o~~~
With the dawn of the new day came the start of their elective classes - their first taste of branching out from the standard curriculum. The Great Hall was buzzing with anticipatory chatter as students exchanged notes on their chosen courses. Daphne and Hermione, however, had the luxury of a free period and were planning to use it for some additional study time. As for Harry and Tracey, they were looking forward to their first Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid.
Breakfast ended on a bittersweet note as they parted ways, their usual group fractured for the first time. However, they took solace in the fact they'd regroup later in the day for their shared classes.
Tracey's vibrant personality, paired with Harry's silent anticipation, added an interesting dynamic to their walk towards the class. Harry had always enjoyed Hagrid's company and was excited to see him in a professorial role.
As they arrived at the outdoor class area, Hagrid stood tall, a beacon of welcoming enthusiasm. His massive frame dwarfed the rest of them, but his gentle smile eased any initial intimidation. He began with a heartfelt speech, his rumbling voice bouncing off the trees.
"'This 'ere subject," Hagrid started, his words simple yet profound, "is 'bout understandin' and respectin' magical creatures, big or small. We'll be 'andlin' everything from Flobberworms to Fire Salamanders this year."
After a brief pause, Hagrid continued, "Since I don' have a creature for each one of yeh, we'll be workin' in groups of three."
Tracey and Harry shared a glance, an immediate understanding passing between them. Their friendship was a strong foundation for such an arrangement. The question now was who would be the third member of their team.
"Any idea who might be a good fit for us?" Tracey asked, her brown eyes scanning the crowd of students.
Harry pondered for a moment, considering their options. His mind wandered to Neville, who he'd noticed was standing alone, looking somewhat lost. He might be shy and lacking confidence, but Harry knew Neville had a natural knack for Herbology, and perhaps that extended to magical creatures as well.
"What about Neville?" Harry suggested. Tracey, who hadn't interacted much with Neville, shrugged noncommittally.
"I haven't really spoken to him much, but if you think he'd be good, I trust you," she replied, her trust in Harry evident.
With that, Harry waved Neville over. The timid boy glanced around before realising Harry was signalling him. As he walked over, there was a noticeable apprehension in his steps, but Harry and Tracey greeted him with warm smiles, welcoming him into their team for the year's adventures in Care of Magical Creatures.
With the groups formed, Hagrid moved on to a rather unconventional topic - the correct way to handle their textbook, "The Monster Book of Monsters". His burly hands tenderly stroked the spine of one of the books, effectively pacifying the normally skittish and aggressive book. His eyes narrowed seriously as he reiterated the importance of handling the book with care and respect.
"Yeh don' want to get bit by one of these," he chuckled, "Trust me."
The large man then produced a wooden box filled with Flobberworms and set it on a makeshift table in front of the students. The squirming mass of fat, brown creatures made a few students grimace, but Hagrid seemed delighted.
"Yer first task," he declared, his eyes twinkling, "is to care for these 'ere Flobberworms. Page 137 in yer book will tell yeh everything yeh need to know."
Harry, Tracey, and Neville exchanged glances before turning their attention to their own box of Flobberworms. As they huddled together, Harry remembered Hagrid's demonstration and confidently stroked the spine of his textbook, earning a muffled grumble from the book before it cracked open willingly. The others watched in fascination and quickly mimicked Harry's actions, their books soon opening obediently.
With the book open to the correct page, Harry read aloud the care instructions for Flobberworms. Apparently, they fed on lettuce, which thankfully was abundant on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The three students spent the next few minutes foraging for their Flobberworms' preferred diet, their chatter punctuated with the occasional laughter.
Despite the simplicity of the task, there was a certain satisfaction in tending to the creatures. They may have been just Flobberworms, but they represented their first step into the vast world of magical creatures - a journey they were ready to embark on.
~~~o~~~
The days flowed into each other like droplets of water joining a vast stream, each filled with the humdrum rhythm of classes, the thrill of Quidditch practice, and the comforting warmth of friendships new and old. In what felt like a blink, the day for Harry's first tea session of the year with Professor McGonagall arrived, filling the young Gryffindor with a sense of anticipation.
The tea sessions, which began in Harry's first year, were initially set up as weekly gatherings. But as Harry's life in Hogwarts grew richer, filled with friendships, studies, and newfound responsibilities, they had mutually decided to make them monthly. Although he cherished the conversations he had with his Head of House, the new schedule suited Harry well, giving him ample time to focus on his studies, Quidditch and, importantly, his evolving magical prowess under the meticulous guidance of Jingles.
On the designated day, Harry found himself outside Professor McGonagall's office, the familiar scent of brewing tea filtering through the door, beckoning him inside. The sight that greeted him was familiar - the soft glow of the fireplace, the comfortable armchairs and, of course, Professor McGonagall herself, pouring tea into delicate china cups. With a warm smile, she gestured for him to sit.
Harry sunk into the comforting plush of his usual armchair, gratefully accepting the steaming cup of tea from his Professor. The heat from the cup spread through his hands, filling him with a sense of warmth and security.
After a moment of companionable silence, in which Harry enjoyed the comforting heat of the tea and the flickering light of the fire, he decided to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at him. "Professor," he began, his green eyes meeting her stern ones, "could we talk about my mother and her friends? Our past sessions were mostly focused on my father and his friends."
The normally stern lines of McGonagall's face softened slightly. A moment of quiet contemplation passed as she stirred her tea, her eyes drifting towards the dancing flames. "Yes, Harry, I have focused on the more joyful tales of your parents' youth," she finally conceded, her voice soft with thought. "Your mother's time at Hogwarts was...complicated. Being a Muggleborn, she entered these walls at a time when tensions were high."
McGonagall's fingers traced the rim of her teacup absentmindedly as a nostalgic sigh slipped past her lips. Slowly, her gaze returned to Harry, a rare tenderness in her gaze. "But if it is your wish to know more about her, I will do my best to share what I can," she said gently. "It may not be a story filled with as much laughter and happy memories as your father's. But it's a part of your history, nonetheless."
Harry, his heart thumping in his chest, simply nodded, his fingers tightening around his cup. Despite the likely hardships his mother faced, he was more eager than ever to hear about her life. Her story, her struggles, her triumphs - they were all pieces of a puzzle that made him who he was. And he was ready to discover more.
Professor McGonagall clasped her hands over the teacup, her gaze distant. "Lily's early years at Hogwarts weren't easy," she began, her voice filled with a touch of regret. "Being a Muggleborn, she was mostly ostracised, as were many Muggleborn students during that time."
Her lips thinned into a line, as if the memory of those days still tasted sour. "For a long while, her only real friend was Severus Snape."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, almost spilling his tea. "Snape?" He echoed incredulously. "He was friends with my mum?"
The Head of Gryffindor House merely nodded, her expression sombre. "Indeed," she said softly. "But the details of their relationship... well, it's not my place to discuss them. They had a falling out during their fifth year, and Professor Snape is better suited to fill in the gaps."
Harry's mind whirled with questions, but he nodded, accepting her words for now. McGonagall took a deep breath, then continued.
"Despite her isolation, Lily shone brightly. She was the top of her class, a gifted witch with an incredible dedication to her studies," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as if remembering Lily's academic achievements.
"By her third year, she managed to form friendships with Marlene McKinnon and Alice Fortescue, two of her fellow Gryffindors," McGonagall revealed, her gaze softening as she delved into the past.
At the mention of his mother's friends, Harry leaned forward, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes. "Could you tell me more about them?"
"Marlene was a talented Pureblood witch," began McGonagall, her tone turning sombre. "In her first year, she was quite hostile towards Lily, due to the prejudice instilled by her family. But over the years, she changed, accepting and befriending Lily. The McKinnons were a powerful family. They were all tragically murdered by You-Know-Who himself in early 1979."
Harry felt a pang of sadness for his mother's friend. It was a grim reminder of the ruthlessness of the Dark wizard they were up against.
The Professor then moved onto Alice. "Alice was another Pureblood, and Marlene's best friend. She married Frank Longbottom," McGonagall's voice softened a bit.
Harry sat up straight, the realisation hitting him. "Neville's mum?" he questioned, astonished. He had not known that his mother had a connection to Neville.
"Indeed, Alice is Neville's mother," she confirmed with a nod. "If you wish to know more about her, I would recommend asking Neville himself. But be careful, Harry. It's a sensitive topic for him." Her gaze was understanding, but stern, reminding him to tread with care when it came to such delicate matters.
Harry nodded, understanding the implication.
McGonagall's piercing eyes softened somewhat as she began her account of Lily's later years at Hogwarts. "After her falling out with Snape, Lily drew closer to James and his group," she began, her tone becoming more contemplative. Her words echoed softly in the room, painting a vivid picture of a young Lily facing adversity with courage.
"Lily had this enchanting way of swaying people, of winning them over to her cause," she continued, her gaze far off as if lost in the deep pools of her memory. "Her most notable achievement was becoming Head Girl in her seventh year – a Muggleborn reaching that position hadn't happened for decades due to the increasing tensions in our world." The wistful pride in her voice was evident, her posture slightly straightening at the memory.
Harry listened intently, his heart swelling with pride. The image of his mother fighting her battles and making her own path was inspiring. But as the conversation progressed, another thought tickled his mind - a lingering question that he'd wanted to ask about Jingles. He gingerly broached the subject, "Professor, was Jingles my mother's cat?"
The surprise in McGonagall's eyes was stark, her gaze snapping up to meet Harry's. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth parted slightly in surprise. "Where did you hear this, Harry?" she asked, her voice sharpened by the unexpected query.
Harry looked back at her unflinchingly, the uncertainty clear in his eyes. "Professor Lupin mentioned it," he revealed, his voice echoing in the quiet room.
There was a pause as McGonagall processed his response. "Well, if Remus told you that, then it must be true," she finally said, her gaze thoughtful. She gave a small nod, urging him on. "He knew your parents well. I would suggest you talk to him about this."
Harry's lips thinned into a line, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "I haven't exactly had the best start with Professor Lupin," he confessed, his hands instinctively clenching into fists on his lap. "His accusation towards Daphne... I didn't like it."
McGonagall nodded, her hands clasping tightly around her cup. "Remus can be... overzealous at times," she admitted. "He's only trying to protect you, Harry. He may not always do it in a way that's agreeable, but his heart is in the right place."
A frown marred Harry's features, his hands relaxing on his lap. He sighed, his gaze distant. "If he wanted to protect me, he should have been there, especially in the years before I came to Hogwarts." The room was silent once again, save for the low crackle of the fire in the hearth, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"Harry," McGonagall said slowly, her face furrowed in concern. "What do you mean by that?"
The question hung in the air, waiting to be plucked and unwrapped. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flicking to a point somewhere beyond McGonagall's shoulder. He didn't want to delve into the darkness of his past, not now.
"I..." Harry began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't think this is the time to discuss it, Professor."
There was a pause, followed by a slow nod from McGonagall. Her eyes studied him for a moment, picking up on the strain in his voice and the rigidness of his posture. As much as she wanted to pry, she had to respect Harry's boundaries.
"Harry," she said softly, her stern features softening, "I want you to remember that you can talk to me about anything that's troubling you."
Harry could see the genuine concern in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he considered opening up. But the thought of sharing his past was still too raw, too private. "I appreciate it, Professor," he murmured, giving her a small, strained smile. "But there's nothing to worry about."
McGonagall didn't look convinced, but she chose not to push the matter further. The silence between them stretched, and she took it as her cue to bring the session to an end.
"I believe that would be enough for today, Harry," she said, standing up and smoothing down her robes. "Until our next meeting."
Harry nodded, standing up and echoing her sentiment, "Until then, Professor."
With a brief wave, he exited her office, leaving the warmth and the scent of tea behind. His mind was churning with the newly acquired knowledge about his mother. There was more to discover, more pieces of the puzzle to find, specifically about Marlene and Alice.
As he made his way down the moving staircases, he made a mental note to delve deeper into the stories of his mother's friends, vowing to bring his own friends into his journey into the past.
~~~o~~~
The Room of Requirement was buzzing with its usual atmosphere of mystique and cosiness when Harry walked in. Hermione sat by a massive wooden desk, her bushy hair cascading over her shoulders as she was absorbed in a hefty tome. Tracey lounged in an overstuffed armchair, her lithe body curled up comfortably, a book open on her lap, while Daphne perched gracefully on a window sill, her piercing blue eyes focused intently on a scroll in her hands. Jingles, the ever-mysterious black feline with striking blue eyes, sprawled luxuriously on a plush rug in front of the gently crackling fireplace.
Harry took in the sight of his friends, appreciating the feeling of belonging that the room always seemed to inspire. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention, "Hey, everyone."
Tracey was the first to respond, her face lighting up with her customary vivacity, "Hey, Harry! How'd it go with Professor McGonagall?"
"Had an enlightening chat about my mum," Harry answered as he moved to claim an unoccupied armchair. The softness of the cushion moulded perfectly to his body as he sank into it.
Hermione's interest was instantly piqued, her brown eyes twinkling with curiosity. Daphne ceased her reading as well, her cool gaze settling on Harry as Jingles flicked an ear towards the conversation, his cerulean eyes now half-lidded in attention.
Taking a deep breath, Harry relayed the entire conversation he'd had with McGonagall, sharing everything from Lily's early school years and the hardships she faced as a Muggleborn, to her unexpected friendship with Severus Snape and Alice Longbottom.
"Snape?" Tracey echoed, her eyebrows knitted together in disbelief, "As in our Snape? The Professor?"
"That's the one," Harry affirmed with a solemn nod.
"And Neville's mum?" Hermione chimed in, her eyes wide with surprise. "They were friends with your mother?"
"That's what McGonagall said," Harry shrugged, a bemused expression painting his face.
Silence reigned in the room for a few moments as they digested the news. Then, as if on cue, they all burst into a flurry of questions and hypotheses. The air in the Room of Requirement seemed to hum with an elevated energy as they probed the revelations, eager to understand their implications.
Eventually, they decided to shelve their curiosity for later, refocusing on the tasks at hand. The room transformed, creating an adequate space for studying and practising magic. The wooden table that Hermione had claimed earlier was now cleared and reorganised with her pile of textbooks and scrolls neatly arranged.
The day moved forward with an engaging rhythm, the Room of Requirement alive with the harmonious clamour of collective learning. At times, they studied together as a group of four, their heads bowed over shared texts, ideas exchanged and explored in quiet fervour. It was a symphony of rustling pages and thoughtful whispers, punctuated by the occasional clinking of quills against ink pots.
When they weren't poring over books and scrolls, they transitioned into a more active mode of learning, engaging in one-on-one duelling exercises. Each pair—Harry against Daphne, Hermione versus Tracey—graced the open space of the room, their wand movements mirroring the cadence of a dance. The soft hum of incantations filled the air, the atmosphere charged with magical energy.
Then, they'd switch again, returning to the comfort of their study materials, their minds whirring with the day's lessons. They continued to alternate between intense scholarly discussions and the adrenaline of magical combat, the two activities intertwined in a seamless ballet of learning and practice. The day unwound in this pattern, a symphony of dedication and camaraderie.
All the while, the Room of Requirement was warmed by the soft glow of the fire. It cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, creating an enchanting scene of four friends engrossed in their studies. Overseeing the tableau was Jingles, his eyes a shimmering blue as he observed from his cosy spot by the hearth, a silent guardian of their magical sanctuary.
~~~o~~~
The moment for their second Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson arrived, heavy with tension. Daphne walked into the classroom, her blue eyes icier than ever, her every movement emanating her resentment for Professor Lupin.
Throughout the lesson, Daphne remained detached and aloof, her cool gaze barely even acknowledging Lupin. Instead, she cradled Jingles in her arms, her fingers lost in his glossy fur, creating a scene that made it abundantly clear where her attention lay. When called upon, her replies were laced with an unmistakable sass that raised several eyebrows in the classroom, including Lupin's.
"Miss Greengrass," Lupin finally sighed, exasperation seeping into his voice. "May I see you after class?"
Daphne merely responded with a nonchalant shrug, not even bothering to mask her indifference. When the bell finally rang, the students filed out, leaving Daphne behind with Lupin, still petting Jingles.
"I'm assuming Harry told you about our conversation," Lupin began, his gaze steady on Daphne, who feigned ignorance, her focus apparently still on the feline in her lap.
Lupin sighed again, running a hand through his greying hair. "It's clear you have issues with me, Miss Greengrass. However, this attitude will not serve you well in class. If you wish to maintain your grades, you'll need to participate."
She shrugged, her frosty eyes meeting Lupin's. "I don't need lessons from someone who'd judge a book by its cover. I'll do fine on my own."
Lupin's face tightened at her words, his lips pressed into a thin line. He maintained his calm, writing something on a piece of parchment. "Detention, with Professor Snape. You will hand him this note explaining the reason." He handed her the parchment.
Daphne rolled her eyes, a clear sign of defiance. "Am I free to go now?"
Lupin nodded, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Once outside, Jingles connected with Daphne mentally, his voice echoing in her mind. "Daphne, you can't let your personal issues affect your academic progress. If you continue behaving this way, your parents will be informed."
Daphne sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly. She nodded, stroking Jingles' soft fur. "You're right, Jingles," she conceded, turning on her heel and making her way to the dungeons to find Professor Snape.