Chapter Twenty-Two: The Deathly Hallows
A large portion of the Sunday following Gryffindor's first Quidditch match was spent convincing Ron not to quit the team. Understandably, he had been completely dejected following his lousy performance against Slytherin, and it was only after the entire team showed him their support that he agreed to stick with it. Of course, knowing that the alternate Keeper would be Cormac McLaggen might have been part of their motivation, as the sixth year's unearned arrogance had made him quite unattractive as a teammate. In any case, their next match wouldn't be until the end of February, so Ron had plenty of time to get his nerves in order before facing Hufflepuff.
One unexpected, yet certainly welcome surprise was Hagrid's return to Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione had dragged Ron outside in an attempt to lift his spirits and noticed smoke rising from Hagrid's chimney, so the three of them immediately trekked through the newly fallen snow to go and greet him.
They soon confirmed that Hagrid's secret-keeping ability had not improved during his time away. Though he was reticent at first, he described for them, in detail, his and Madame Maxime's journey deep into the mountains to entreat with the remaining European giants. Unfortunately, it did not go as well as they had hoped, and they were unable to secure the giants' cooperation. To make matters worse, the Death Eaters had arrived around the same time, and appeared to have much better luck with their negotiations. Harry didn't care for the prospect of Voldemort employing giants against them, but he made a mental note to learn how to fight them, just in case.
They also took the time to fill Hagrid in on everything he'd missed, including Harry being attacked by dementors, the Azkaban breakout, and of course, the plague that was Professor Umbridge. They were shocked to learn that the toad herself had already paid Hagrid a visit the previous evening, only minutes after he had returned. Hermione in particular tried to warn him about Umbridge. Hagrid didn't seem overly concerned, however, which had Harry dreading the day the High Inquisitor decided to inspect one of his Care of Magical Creatures lessons.
Monday dawned with Harry feeling optimistic about the week ahead. Between dropping Umbridge's class and Snape's slightly less abusive attitude, his academic stress levels had dropped significantly. He was also excelling at both Charms and Transfiguration, with both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick now giving him extra credit assignments to complement his improved performance in class.
Harry went down to breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindors, taking the opportunity to discuss his plans for that evening's meeting of the Underground with Ron and Hermione. They were in the midst of a debate over the merits of introducing Stunning Spells before everyone had mastered the Shield Charm when the owl post arrived. With two weeks having passed since his interview was published, the flood of letters being sent to Harry had been reduced to a trickle, which was why he was surprised to receive to letters from unfamiliar owls that morning.
The first one turned out to be a short note from his solicitor, Reginald Cartwright.
"Who's it from, Harry?"
"My solicitor," said Harry, replying to Hermione. "I'm supposed to go to the Ministry during the holidays to meet with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"About Cedric?"
"Seems like it. The Prophet hasn't reported anything about the inquiry, has it?"
"Not that I've seen, but that shouldn't be surprising," said Hermione. "I'm sure the Minister doesn't want that being spread around. Do you think they'll ask you about Voldemort?"
"I'm planning on showing them the memory either way," he responded, setting down Mr. Cartwright's letter and picking up the other envelope. "Who knows if anything will come of it, but I might as well try."
"If it helps the Ministry get their heads out of their arses, I'm all for it," commented Ron.
"Not getting my hopes up there," responded Harry, as he took the parchment from the second envelope.
An involuntary chuckle escaped him as he read the first few lines of the letter. Harry shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths, allowing the rather unexpected feeling of relief to wash over him.
"What is it?" he heard Hermione ask him.
Harry opened his eyes and read through the letter again.
"They believe me…"
"Who believes you?" questioned Neville.
"Cedric's parents," he replied, handing the letter to Hermione. "They said they believe me, and —" Harry took another deep breath to compose himself. "— they said it's not my fault," he added quietly.
"Oh, Harry…" Hermione said empathetically, as she skimmed the letter. "Look, they even apologised for sending that letter to the Daily Prophet."
"I never was mad about that, to be honest," replied Harry, who was still in a bit of shock. "Mr. Diggory only sent it because Umbridge manipulated him. Plus, it actually convinced the Ministry to open up an inquiry into that night."
"So, are you going to meet with them?"
"Yeah, it's Hogsmeade weekend, so I figured I'd see if they want to meet in the Three Broomsticks. I'll write them back while you're in Defence."
"Ugh, don't remind me," grumbled Ron. "I wish Dumbledore would let me take my O.W.L."
Hermione turned to Ron in shock. "How can you even say that?" she said anxiously. "We have so much more to learn before we're anywhere near ready for our O.W.L.s!"
"Get a grip, Hermione, it's not like I was serious," Ron groaned in reply. "Besides, it's not like we're learning anything from Umbridge anyway — we're doing that all on our own," he added, in a low voice so no one else could hear.
"Does everyone know we're meeting tonight?" whispered Hermione.
"As far as I know," shrugged Harry. "It's hard with so many, but we spoke to people from each House and told them to spread the word."
"Well, I came up with something that should help with that," she replied happily. "I'll have to show you later, though — there are too many people around now."
Harry nodded and went back to eating his breakfast, soon finding himself lost in thought. While he had hoped the Diggorys would reply to his letter, their absolution meant more to Harry than he could even express. For months, he had been harbouring guilt over what happened to Cedric that night, to the point where he still had the occasional nightmare about it. Harry wasn't sure if he could ever completely let go of his guilt, but if even Cedric's own parents didn't fault him, then surely, he could at least try to forgive himself.
oOoOoOo
"Good work, people," declared Harry, after calling for quiet. "I've seen a lot of improvement already, and pretty much everyone's got the hang of Expelliarmus, Stupefy, and Protego. One thing to remember, though; if you find yourself in a fight, your opponent probably won't be just standing around waiting for you to hit them."
There were a few nods and general murmurs of agreement from the group.
"That's why we're going to introduce some drills to help get used to dealing with moving targets," he said, and with a flick of his wand, five circular, wooden targets flew from against the wall and hovered in the air behind him — each about a half a metre across and painted with a red bullseye. "This time, we'll keep it simple with only the targets moving," he continued, and with another flick of his wand, the targets went into motion. "In the future, both you and the targets will be on the move, so be sure to keep that in mind. Now, everyone pair up and have a go at the targets two at a time, and whoever hits the most between you and your partner wins. Any questions?"
"What spell should we use?" asked Megan Jones, a fifth-year Hufflepuff.
"For now, I only want you using either of the spells we've worked on — whichever one you're more comfortable with," instructed Harry. "Any other questions? Great, let's get started," he said, moving out of the way as Megan stepped up to go first with Ernie Macmillan.
"Nice one," Ron told him, as Ernie knocked the first wooden bullseye out of the air.
"Yeah, only problem is that by the time everybody gets a turn, we'll probably have to call it a night," Harry complained. "We need to come up with better ways to get everyone engaged — there's too much standing around and watching."
"Speaking of which, I was thinking us original members should find a way to meet up separately," Ron said quietly. "We're not getting as much out of these meetings, even though we'll probably be the ones who end up fighting with you."
"I know," sighed Harry.
He had recently come to a similar conclusion, but between the Underground and training with Daphne, he barely had enough time to do his schoolwork as it was, let alone spend time with his girlfriend. Dumbledore had also hinted that their lessons would be increasing in frequency, which would leave him with very few free evenings to devote to working separately with Ron and the others.
"The problem is there's just not enough time," he continued. "Everyone should be pretty much caught up by the holidays, so it'll be better next term."
"I guess so, but when were you going to show us…you know…some of the Darker stuff?" asked Ron, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Harry grimaced slightly. He hadn't forgotten his earlier promise, but he'd also yet to mention Dumbledore's revelations about Dark Magic and his own decision to stop using it. Ron's question did, however, make him realise that if they were no longer going to use Dark Magic, then his one-on-one sessions with Daphne might no longer be necessary. Maybe he could convince her to join in with the others instead?
"Er — I actually decided not to work on spells like that anymore," Harry told Ron. "It's sort of a long story, but I definitely think it's for the best. I might have an idea to free up some time, though — let me get back to you."
"Fine by me," said Ron, who seemed somewhat relieved by Harry's decision. "All right, I'm going to grab Hermione and get in line — this is something I can actually beat her at."
Harry chuckled as he watched Ron practically drag Hermione over to the target practice queue, where Dean and Seamus were currently engaged in a spirited competition. He looked on with no small amount of pride as one pair after another stepped up and performed their spells, all but proving to Harry that all the hard work and secrecy was well worth it.
"Before we go, I have a quick announcement," Hermione called out, as soon as the last pair had finished. "Letting everyone know about our meetings has been a challenge, so I've come up with a way for Harry to communicate the date and time to everyone without arousing suspicion."
She held up a large basket and took out a what appeared to be a shiny, gold Galleons before handing the basket off to Ron.
"Everyone will take one these fake Galleons," she explained, as the basket was passed around (Ron's face fell slightly at the mention of them being fake). "You see the numerals around the edge of the coin? On real Galleons, that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On ours, the numbers will change to reflect the date and time of the next meeting. I've cast a Protean Charm on them, so when Harry changes the numbers on his coin, ours will all change to mimic his. When that happens, the coins will heat up for a few seconds, so if you're carrying them in your pocket, you should be able to feel it."
For a few moments, the group just stared back at Hermione blankly to the point where she was beginning to feel self-conscious, but then Noreen spoke up.
"That's actually quite clever; even if someone like Umbridge found it, they would have no way of knowing what it actually was," she said to general agreement.
"Well, that's the idea at least," Hermione said brightly, obviously pleased that her idea had been so well-received.
"First the Fidelius Charm, now a Protean Charm — tell us again how you're not in Ravenclaw?" asked Terry Boot, sounding slightly mystified.
"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw, but it decided Gryffindor was a better fit," she replied. "Did everyone get one?"
After confirming that everyone had taken a coin, Harry began dismissing everyone in groups while keeping an eye on the Marauder's Map. Astoria lingered behind as usual, as did Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. Once everyone had gone, Harry went up to Hermione to ask her a question.
"These coins are brilliant, by the way," he told her, holding up his Galleon.
"Thank you," she beamed at him. "I probably should have asked first, but I figured you wouldn't mind."
"Not at all," Harry grinned. "In fact, I was hoping you might be able to help me with something. I'm trying to figure out a way to keep in touch with Astoria over the holidays — you know, in case anything happens — and I was just thinking that something similar to these might be perfect."
"Hmm…making the communication work two ways might be a bit trickier, but it shouldn't be a problem," Hermione replied thoughtfully. "I'm assuming you'd want to make it so nobody other than you two could read them?"
"I'd definitely prefer it that way," he confirmed. "So, what do you think?"
"I think I might have some ideas; let me think on it for a day or two," agreed Hermione. "In the meantime, you should decide what you want to use instead of coins — like a scrap of parchment, or maybe even a small book."
"Great idea, thanks Hermione."
"While we're here, I finished the translation you asked for," she replied, digging into her bag and bringing out the book Dumbledore gave him. "We still have some time before curfew, if you want to go over it now."
"Definitely," Harry replied excitedly. He'd been dying to know what was so special about the book and what it had to do with his ancestors.
"Well, the title of the book is The Tales of Beedle the Bard —" began Hermione, as the others gathered around them, but she was quickly interrupted by Ron.
"You're joking," he said. "Dumbledore gives Harry a mysterious book to be translated, but it's just an old copy of Beedle the Bard?"
"Wait, you've heard of it?"
"Of course I have! Hasn't everyone?" replied Ron, looking around at the others.
It turned out that everyone except for Harry and Hermione was quite familiar with the book, as it was nothing more than a well-known collection of children's stories. Having been raised in muggle households, neither of them had ever heard of Beedle the Bard, but the rest of their group had all grown up with the stories.
"I don't understand," frowned Harry, flipping the book to the page Hermione had bookmarked. "Why would Dumbledore give me a book of children's stories?
"It's Dumbledore, mate," Ron replied with a shrug. "I always thought he was a bit barmy, even if he is a genius."
"It looks really old," observed Astoria. "Perhaps the stories have changed over time, and he wanted you to see the original. Did he assign you any one story in particular?"
"Yeah, he mentioned 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'."
"Ooh, that's the one about the Deathly Hallows," said Luna, speaking in an almost reverent tone.
"The what?" Harry asked Luna, who was now looking at the book over his shoulder.
"The Deathly Hallows," she repeated. "Look, there's the symbol right there."
Harry looked to the top of the page where Luna was pointing and saw a small drawing of what appeared to be a triangular eye, with a vertical line running through its centre. He didn't want to mention it just yet, but Harry thought it bore a striking resemblance to the triangular symbol engraved on Ignotus Peverell's grave marker.
"I was wondering about that," remarked Hermione, obviously intrigued. "It's not a rune, and it doesn't appear to be part of the actual book — it looks as though it were drawn there by somebody. You said the symbol has something to do with these Deathly Hallows, but what exactly are they?"
"Hmm…it might be easier if you just read the story," suggested Luna, in her dreamy voice.
Hermione handed Harry the sheet of parchment with the translation. "Here you are," she said, and then went to sit by the fire.
"What, you want me to read it aloud?" asked Harry, not entirely thrilled by the idea.
"Come on, Harry, read us a story," Neville said cheekily, sinking into the chair opposite Hermione.
"You might as well just read it, Harry," added Astoria, pulling him down onto one of the sofas.
"Fine," he said resignedly, clearing his throat. "'There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.'"
"Wait, this can't be real," said Harry, interrupting himself.
"What can't be real?" asked Astoria.
"This part here," he replied, pointing to the next line.
"It's a story, Harry, it's not meant to be taken literally," Astoria explained gently.
"Right, sorry… 'And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.
"'So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.
"'Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.
"'And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.'"
Harry paused for a moment as he contemplated the importance of Death giving his own Invisibility Cloak to the youngest of the three brothers. Did that have something to do with why Dumbledore gave him the book? He exchanged significant looks with Ron and Hermione, before reading on.
"'Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts.
"'In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.
"'The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.
"'That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.
"'And so Death took the first brother for his own.
"'Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.
"'Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.
"'And so Death took the second brother for his own.
"'But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.'"
"And those are the Deathly Hallows," said Luna, holding her hands out wide. Once she realised that Harry and the others hadn't understood, she leaned forward and picked up the quill and parchment that had magically appeared on the table. "The triangle represents the Cloak of Invisibility," explained Luna, tracing the shape on the parchment. "This is the Resurrection Stone," she continued, adding a circle set perfectly within the triangle, "and finally, the Elder Wand," she finished, drawing a vertical line bisecting both the triangle and circle. "Together they make the Deathly Hallows. Daddy says that if someone were to possess all three Hallows at once, they would become the Master of Death."
"Master of Death…" murmured Harry distractedly, speaking to no one in particular. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it certainly sounded like something that might help him win against Voldemort.
"What a load of nonsense," declared Hermione, snapping Harry back to reality. "Master of Death? What does that even mean? There is absolutely no possibility that these…Deathly Hallows exist. It's just a fairy tale!"
"But Hermione, the Cloak…" croaked Ron.
"Come off it, Ronald. Invisibility Cloaks are rare but they're not unique — even Mad-Eye has one," she countered.
"Yeah, but…"
"You know, just because you don't believe in something, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Luna said shortly. "Daddy has been researching the Hallows for years, and he's certain that the legends are real."
"Luna," said Harry quickly, cutting off Hermione before she could respond, "do these legends ever mention the Peverell family?"
Luna tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously. "I'm surprised you know that, Harry," she replied, her voice's dreamy quality returning. "Daddy says that most people believe the story refers to the three Peverell brothers."
"Harry, surely you don't —"
"Hermione…" Harry said warningly, before turning his attentions back to Luna.
"Thanks, Luna," he said sincerely. "I'm glad you were here to explain it all to me, but you should probably get back to your common room. Neville, would you mind?"
"Er — no, of course not," the boy replied. "Come on, Luna, I'll walk you back."
After saying their goodbyes, Neville escorted Luna out of the Room of Requirement and back to Ravenclaw Tower, giving the others one last look over his shoulder. For a few moments, Harry just sat there appearing contemplative, trying to make sense of what they had just heard and how it related to everything he'd learned in Godric's Hollow.
"Harry…it's just a story. There's no evidence —"
"When I was in Godric's Hollow with Dumbledore," began Harry, once again interrupting Hermione, "I saw the grave of Ignotus Peverell, and this symbol was engraved on the stone —" he said, holding up Luna's drawing. "— the same symbol that was drawn into the book Dumbledore gave me. According to Dumbledore, Ignotus Peverell was the youngest of three brothers…"
"Okay, I see why you would find that interesting, but that doesn't prove anything," argued Hermione.
Harry reached into his robe pocket and took out his Invisibility Cloak. "Dumbledore also told me," he continued, allowing the thin material of the Cloak to slide through his fingers, "that I am the last living descendant of Ignotus Peverell, whose granddaughter married into the Potter family centuries ago."
Astoria gasped.
"In the story…doesn't the youngest brother pass the Cloak on to his son?" Ron asked hesitantly.
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, just like how my Cloak once belonged to my father," he said.
"That shouldn't be possible," remarked Astoria.
Hermione turned to her sharply. "Really? Why not?" she asked.
"Well, I don't claim to be an expert," she replied, obviously taken aback by Hermione's intensity, "but invisibility cloaks usually only last for a few years before the charms fail. I heard my father complaining about it once."
"Mine is older than I am," revealed Harry. "Sirius told me stories about my dad using it when they were in school. So if nothing else, we know my Cloak is special, but that's not all. Do you remember me telling you about Dumbledore showing me those memories about the Gaunts — Voldemort's family?"
Ron and Hermione nodded, but Harry felt Astoria stiffen beside him. Turning to see what was wrong, he noticed that her face had suddenly gone deathly pale.
"It — it's nothing. I'm sorry, please go on," she said, in response to Harry's look of concern.
Vowing to find out more about Astoria's reaction later, Harry continued, "Right, well it turns out that the Gaunts are descended from the second Peverell brother, Cadmus."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at that and started worrying at her lower lip.
"In one of the memories, Marvolo — that's Voldemort's grandfather — had a ring with a large black stone, and he said it had the Peverell coat of arms engraved on it. I'd have to see the memory again to be certain, but I'd wager a guess that it was that same triangular symbol."
Ron gave a low whistle. "So…your cloak might be the Cloak, and Voldemort's family could have the Stone...but what about the Wand?" he said, perhaps a bit too eagerly.
"No idea," shrugged Harry. "Dumbledore said the oldest brother — Antioch, I think — never had kids. Besides, if the story's accurate, someone killed him and took the Wand anyway."
"It's…just...a…story," Hermione said insistently. "I'll give you the Cloak, but a stone that can bring people back to life? An unbeatable wand? They're just fanciful tales, legends — they're not real!"
"Hermione, we already know of a wizard who survived death by splitting his soul — his actual soul — into pieces," Harry reminded her, with as much patience as he could muster. "There are dozens of ghosts currently roaming this very castle. Most muggles believe Merlin is just a legend, but we know for a fact that he was real. Why is it so hard for you to believe that there might be some truth to this legend?"
Hermione shook her head back and forth, and there was something almost frantic in her expression. "I — I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this," she said distractedly. "Curfew is in fifteen minutes, so we need to be going."
With that, Hermione gathered up her things and started towards the door. "Ron, are you coming or not?" she said impatiently.
"Right, coming," replied Ron, slowly standing up. "I'll see you back in the common room," he said to Harry, and then followed Hermione out into the corridor.
"She's scared," said Harry, once they had gone.
"You think so?" asked Astoria.
"Pretty sure," he nodded. "Hermione's very logical, and I think something about the idea of Death's own Hallows being real unsettles her."
Astoria hummed in response and rested her head on Harry's shoulder.
"Speaking of unsettled, what was that back there?"
"Nothing," she replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
Harry sighed. "It clearly wasn't nothing," he said quietly, then shifted so that she would be forced to look at him. "Talk to me…please."
Astoria's gaze flitted to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. "You're right, it wasn't nothing," she confessed, "but I'm not ready to talk about it yet, okay?"
Harry looked back at her for a few moments, then simply said, "Okay," and reached out to squeeze her hand. As much as he wanted to know what was bothering her, Astoria had never pushed him to talk, so extending her the same courtesy was the least he could do to.
Relief flooded Astoria's face. "Thank you," she replied, and pulled him into a deep kiss.
"Wow…you're welcome," breathed Harry once they had separated, making Astoria giggle. "I suppose we should probably get you back to your common room, though."
"I'm in no hurry," she replied, her eyes dancing with mischief. "We haven't had much time alone lately. Besides, what good is it owning the legendary Cloak of Invisibility if you can't use it to stay out past curfew?"
"I'm definitely not opposed to staying a while longer," he grinned. "I'm surprised at you, though — a fine, upstanding Ravenclaw such as yourself intentionally avoiding curfew?"
"Haven't you heard?" Astoria replied with a wicked smile. "My boyfriend is a Gryffindor, so a bit of rule-breaking is expected."
Harry would be very late in returning to the common room that night.
oOoOoOo
"Imperio," Harry muttered for the tenth time that evening.
He felt Daphne attempting to fight his spell and directed his will into crushing her resistance. With each new attempt, she had become more and more frustrated by her inability to throw off Harry's curse, but that did not stop her from demanding he immediately cast it on her again.
It hadn't taken long for Harry to suspect that he was unnaturally gifted at the Imperius Curse. He had broken through Voldemort's attempts to control him with relative ease, so it stood to reason that he would have a similar aptitude for actually using the curse. Knowing this, he recognised that Daphne would have far less difficulty with an Imperius cast by any other student, so it would make sense for him to back off a bit — maybe even let her break it once, just to build her confidence. The problem was, once the spell was cast and the heady feeling of control filled him, the instinct to dominate took over, and any thoughts of easing off went straight out the window.
Harry watched as Daphne performed a rather impressive tap dance, ending his spell when it became clear she would not do so on her own. A dejected look briefly appeared on the blonde Slytherin's face, but it was quickly replaced by one of anger.
"Again," she said through gritted teeth.
"Why don't we take a break instead?"
"I don't need a break."
"Well, I do," returned Harry, walking over to take a seat in the Room's study area.
Daphne looked as if she wanted to argue, but she begrudgingly went to join him anyway. Harry sat and observed the girl for a few moments. She appeared as composed as always, yet he kept getting the impression that things were not so calm beneath the surface.
"How are things in Slytherin lately?"
"I don't see how that is any of your concern," Daphne replied dismissively.
"Daphne…"
"Fine," she huffed. "If you must know, the atmosphere in Slytherin has become extremely tense. Those whose families are aligned with the Dark Lord have begun asserting their power in the common room, while the rest simply try to avoid being noticed."
"And what about you?"
Daphne closed her eyes briefly, as if deciding how to respond. "You are not to mention any of what I say to Astoria — understood?" Harry looked at her uncertainly but nodded his agreement. "Your dating my sister has brought me some…unwanted attention," she continued. "I've been dealing with it, but Malfoy and his cohorts in particular have been getting bolder."
Harry sat up straighter in his seat. "Have they been threatening you or Astoria?" he asked insistently.
"Not overtly, but their intentions are clear," she replied bitterly. "I get the sense that they've been ordered to behave themselves for the time being — at least while the Dark Lord is maintaining a low profile. Once he declares himself openly, though…"
"Is that why you're so focused on fighting the Imperius?"
"I don't want to leave anything to chance," she confirmed, looking down at her lap in a rare display of vulnerability.
Harry exhaled slowly. "Look Daphne, I'm going to be completely honest with you," he said. "Even with more practice, I doubt you'll ever be able throw off my Imperius Curse — but it's not me you have to worry about," he explained, holding up a hand to head off her protest. "I've beaten Voldemort in a battle of wills more than once; for some reason, I just seem to have a knack for this sort of thing. From what I can tell, though, I seriously doubt any other Hogwarts student would be able to keep you under the curse for long."
Daphne looked at him speculatively for a moment. "I admit that I never considered that angle," she said finally. "Do you really believe I could resist the curse, if it were someone else performing it?"
"I feel you resisting it every time," he told her. "It's hard to know for sure, but I have a hard time picturing someone like Malfoy controlling you."
"That's…good to hear," she replied, obviously breathing a little easier.
"I'm glad, because I meant what I said the other day," Harry informed her. "After tonight, I'm done using Dark Magic. I want to help you, but I just can't do it anymore."
"I know," Daphne said resignedly. "I — I want to apologise again for what happened the other night."
"You don't have to," replied Harry. "That's not what this is about. I'm stopping because I don't want to end up losing myself."
"Yes, you explained your position the other night," she responded, somewhat irritably. "We are still going to practice duelling together, aren't we?"
Initially, Harry had planned to tell Daphne that evening that he couldn't continue their one-on-one sessions, but as she was already having a rough day, it seemed almost mean to break it to her right then.
"I'm sort of busy this week, but I can probably do Sunday," he told her, deciding one more session couldn't hurt anything.
"Sunday works," she agreed. Shifting topics, Daphne continued, "Since we're obviously not getting any more practice in this evening, there's something I've been meaning to tell you — you need to watch out for Umbridge."
"Umbridge?" questioned Harry, obviously confused. "Why? Aside from trying to wind me up when she was inspecting Hagrid today, she's basically ignored me for weeks."
"That's just it; you don't attend her class anymore so you wouldn't have noticed, but she's been cracking down hard lately," she explained. "It's mostly just deducting points and assigning detentions, but she's also broken up a few clubs, and apparently removed one of the muggle-born players from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for talking back to her."
"Er — okay, that's not great, but I don't understand what it has to do with me."
"I'm getting there," she continued impatiently. "A few days ago, she approached some of the Slytherins about forming some sort of secret squad to help her suss out rule breakers, and you are apparently at the top of her list."
"What a surprise," replied Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What rules exactly does she suspect me of breaking?"
"Funny you should ask," smirked Daphne. "Apparently, she knows for a fact that you are leading some sort of illegal group, but she wouldn't say what it was or how they are supposed to catch you."
"More like she couldn't say," he muttered under his breath, grinning in spite of himself.
It sounded as if the Fidelius had wiped the details of their defence club from Umbridge's mind, even after Astoria's former friend Ethan had told her their plans. Harry did, however, find it interesting that she could still remember that he was doing something she didn't like, even if she couldn't recall exactly what it was.
"How do you know all this?" asked Harry. "Were you invited to join?"
"No, but Pansy was. I heard her bragging about it in the dorm."
"Interesting," Harry muttered thoughtfully. "Well, thanks for the warning, I suppose."
"So, what is this secret group you're leading, and why wasn't I invited?" Daphne asked amusedly.
"I've no idea what you're talking about," he replied flatly, "and even if there was a secret group, you'd never agree to join anyway."
"I didn't say I wanted to join, Harry," she teased. "Sometimes, a girl just wants to be invited."
"Right, well, the only girl I plan on inviting anywhere is Astoria."
"Hmm…I suppose I can hardly be upset about that," replied Daphne. "If I'm being honest, Tori's happiness is the only reason I'm willing to deal with the fallout in my House, so you'd better make sure she stays that way."
"I will."
"And safe?"
"Of course," he replied emphatically.
Harry didn't doubt his ability to keep Astoria safe, but it sounded as though Malfoy needed a reminder of why he should learn to mind his own business.
oOoOoOo
The following Saturday, Harry was set to meet Mr. and Mrs. Diggory at the Three Broomsticks. Astoria insisted on tagging along for moral support, though she intended to wait downstairs during the meeting itself. While they were eating breakfast at the Ravenclaw table, Cho overheard them discussing their plans and asked if she could come along too, having not seen Cedric's parents since his funeral. That's how, for the second time in as many months, Harry found himself travelling to Hogsmeade with an assortment of Ravenclaw girls.
Largely ignoring the conversation around him, Harry stared out the carriage window trying to think of exactly what he wanted to say to the Diggorys. Much of the previous week's snow had melted, leaving patches of brown grass interspersed among the remaining drifts. The trees swayed heavily in the wind, which was blowing hard enough that they could even hear the occasional gust whistling through the small gaps in the exterior of their coach.
"Hey, are you okay?" Astoria said to him quietly, while Noreen and Felicity grilled Cho on what to expect from their third and fourth-year Ancient Runes exams.
"Yeah, just thinking," replied Harry, turning away from the window.
"It's really sweet of you to meet with Cedric's parents, you know," she told him. Harry replied with a noncommittal jerk of the head, so Astoria put a hand on his arm and leaned closer. "I mean it," she said. "I know it won't be easy, but perhaps they'll finally be able get some closure."
"I know," Harry replied, and then resumed gazing out the window.
"Why don't we go do something fun after?" she suggested. "Anything you like."
"Like go flying?" he questioned, turning back to her with a raised eyebrow.
Astoria's face fell momentarily, but she quickly recovered. "If — if that's what you want," she answered tentatively.
Harry laughed. "Maybe once it warms up," he said. "I just wanted to see the look on your face when I suggested it."
"That was mean," replied Astoria, attempting to sound stern. She was unable to maintain a straight face, however, and wound up chuckling along with him.
"You two make a good couple," Cho remarked thoughtfully, having observed the exchange.
"Oh — thank you," Astoria replied bashfully.
Felicity took that as her cue to tease her best friend. "So, what are you two lovebirds up to this afternoon?" she asked.
"That's what we're trying to decide," Harry responded.
"Really, I just wanted to know if we should wait up for Astoria, or if she'll be super late getting back to the common room again tonight…"
"Felicity!"
"What?" she replied innocently, as Astoria's face turned beet red. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, right Noreen?"
Noreen tapped her lips with one finger, as if deliberating. "I suppose that would depend on why she was out late in the first place," she finally concluded, further embarrassing Astoria.
"You just wait until you get boyfriends," she grumbled, while Cho looked on with raised eyebrows.
Cho glanced over at Harry, who simply shrugged his shoulders and resumed looking out the window, trying and failing to hide a smirk.
As soon as they stepped out of the coach, a massive wind gust tore through Hogsmeade, causing Harry and the girls to draw their cloaks tightly around themselves. Thoroughly uninterested in remaining outside any longer than necessary, they quickly made their way to the Three Broomsticks and ducked inside.
Madam Rosmerta saw them enter and gestured for Harry to approach. "They're waiting for you upstairs, dearie," she informed him from behind the bar. "Same room as last time."
"Thanks, Rosmerta," replied Harry, before heading towards the stairs. "Are you sure you want to wait here?" he asked Astoria.
"Mm-hmm, don't worry about us," she assured him. "We'll probably just have a Butterbeer and some girl talk. We can figure out what to do next when you're done, but there's no hurry."
"All right, I don't expect we'll be too long. Ready, Cho?"
Suddenly looking nervous, Cho nodded meekly and followed Harry up the stairs to where the private rooms were located. Harry stopped outside the door for a moment, and with a deep breath, he knocked softly before easing the door open. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory had been sitting in chairs by the fire and rose to their feet as Harry and Cho stepped into the room.
Amos Diggory was a tall, middle-aged man with a scruffy brown beard. His wife was also on the taller side, being about the same height as Harry. They both seemed to have lost weight since Harry last saw them, and Mrs. Diggory's brown hair now had a few streaks of grey running through it.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Potter," said Mr. Diggory, shaking Harry's hand. "I'm sure you remember my wife, Francesca?"
"Of course, sir, and you can just call me Harry."
"Amos, then."
"Cho, dear, we weren't expecting you," said Francesca.
"I'm sorry for intruding," Cho said quietly. "I heard Harry say he was going to meet with you today, and I wanted to see how you were doing."
"That's quite all right," she said reassuringly. "Are you two…?"
"Oh — no, we're just friends," Cho replied quickly, as the four of them each took a seat around the small table.
After a few rather uncomfortable seconds, Mr. Diggory broke the silence. "I believe I owe you an apology, Mr. Potter," he began.
"No, you don't," replied Harry, shaking his head. "I never faulted you for the letter. And it's Harry."
"That's very kind of you, but I feel you at least deserve an explanation," replied Amos. "We've been having a difficult time. It's not that we didn't believe you when you told us…how…how it happened," he explained, choking up slightly. "It's just that only days later, the Minister personally told me that you were…mistaken, yet he refused to say what actually happened. We expected Dumbledore to give us a proper explanation, but it never came, and then all the articles in the Daily Prophet…We allowed doubt to seep in, and when I received that letter from the anonymous official, I —"
"It's not your fault," interrupted Harry. "You were manipulated by Umbridge — that's who sent you the letter."
"Umbridge? Are you certain?"
"She told me herself," he nodded. "I told Rita Skeeter when she interviewed me, but for some reason, she left out all the stuff about what's going on at Hogwarts when she wrote the article."
"What exactly is going on at Hogwarts?" asked Amos.
Harry took a few minutes to bring the Diggorys up to date on all the goings on, with Cho chiming in on occasion to add her perspective. He also explained that even though it led to a couple of tough weeks for him, he was glad things had happened the way they did. Otherwise, the Ministry would not have been forced to open up an inquiry, and Harry might not have been prompted to get his story out.
From there, Harry and Cho answered some of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory's questions, mostly about their interactions with Cedric throughout the previous year. It turned out they had quite a bit to share, and both parents were clearly hungry to hear more stories about their son, no matter how mundane.
The first time he met with the Diggorys, the morning following the third task, everything had been too raw — the pain still too fresh. It was still difficult to talk about, but the intervening months had given Harry some perspective, which allowed him to share details about Cedric and his final moments that he previously wouldn't have been able to articulate.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Amos said again, after two very emotional hours. "And thank you — again — for bringing him back to us."
"And thank you for working to keep his memory alive," added Francesca, referring back to the part of their conversation where Cho explained her attempts to regularly bring up Cedric in conversation, when appropriate. "And for the suggestion to create a scholarship in Cedric's name — I think it's a wonderful idea."
"I'm not sure what will come of the Ministry inquiry, but I shall lend my assistance in whatever way possible," continued Amos. "These things take time, of course — bureaucracy, and all — but Fudge won't be able to ignore the truth for much longer."
"One way or another," nodded Harry. "I just hope it's not too late by then."
"That much we can agree on," returned Amos, once again shaking Harry's hand.
"And please, don't be afraid to reach out anytime you'd like to talk," said Francesca, mainly to Cho.
Sensing that the Diggorys needed some time alone to recover from their conversation, Harry and Cho took their leave. Their meeting had carried on much longer than Harry expected, so by the time they were done, he was feeling positively famished. Further incentivised by the delicious smells of food wafting up from the bar below, he hurried downstairs to the main room of the Three Broomsticks, only to pull up short when he caught sight of Astoria's expression.
She was sitting at a table on the far side of the room with Noreen and Felicity, looking as angry as Harry had ever seen her. He took the last few steps in one stride and was weaving his way between the tables when the reason for his girlfriend's bad mood became apparent. Discreetly reaching into the pocket of his robe to grasp his wand, Harry waded through the groups of students crowding the bar area until he reached Astoria's table.
Coming up behind the source of the disturbance, Harry cleared his throat. "Why don't you take it somewhere else, Malfoy?" he growled. "You obviously aren't wanted here."
Malfoy, flanked by his familiar bookends, turned around and glared at Harry. "Who asked you, Potter?" the Slytherin said with his trademark sneer. "Where I go and who I speak to is none of your concern."
"It is when you presence is clearly making my girlfriend and her friends uncomfortable," Harry responded in a low voice, his grip on his wand becoming tighter.
"It's fine, Harry," Astoria spoke up. "Draco was just leaving anyway."
Malfoy's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Just you wait, Potter," he spat. "You'll learn your place before long, as will any blood-traitors foolish enough to associate with you," he added, casting a glance over his shoulder towards Astoria.
Harry immediately stepped into Malfoy's personal space. "And who's going to teach me that lesson, Malfoy? You?" he scoffed. "Let's get one thing clear," he continued, "if you so much as raise a wand against Astoria or my friends, I will make sure that not even your mother will be able to identify what's left of you, damn the consequences."
Crabbe attempted to reach out and grab Harry, but as soon as his hand got close, he yelped and snatched it back, almost as if he had been burned.
"That goes for you two idiots as well," he warned them. "You might want to be more careful hanging around Malfoy. I heard he's a bit accident prone these days."
Malfoy looked like he had something else to say, but he thought better of it once he saw that their brief confrontation had attracted the attention of those around them, including Madam Rosmerta.
"Let's go; I've lost my appetite anyway," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, and with one final sneer directed at Harry, Malfoy turned and left the Three Broomsticks with his bodyguards in tow.
Harry tracked them with his eyes until they had cleared the doors, before turning to check on the girls.
"Everyone all right?" he asked, quickly returning to his usual demeanour.
"We're fine," declared Astoria, as Harry joined them at their table.
"What was that all about?" Cho asked nervously.
"It was weird," replied Felicity. "Malfoy was trying to convince Astoria to ditch Harry, almost like he was warning her."
"Did he threaten you?"
Astoria shook her head. "Not directly," she replied. "He just went on about the usual rubbish. You know, how I should be 'choosing the right side', and how pure-bloods need to stand together —"
"The 'or else' was clearly implied," Felicity chimed in. "He didn't actually mention You-Know-Who, but it was pretty obvious what he was referring to."
"Sorry I wasn't down here," said Harry apologetically. "Let me know if he keeps bothering you, okay?"
"I'm not sure he even noticed Noreen and I were here," shrugged Felicity, while Astoria nodded in agreement.
Harry had just started looking around for Madam Rosmerta to order some food, when he noticed Cho was still standing awkwardly off to the side.
"Care to join us?"
"No thanks — I think I'm going to go find some of my friends," she said in response. "Thanks for letting me come along with you today, Harry."
"Oh, of course," he replied. "I think Mrs. Diggory was really glad you came."
"She's always been nice to me," she nodded. "Well…see you."
Once Cho was gone, Harry and the others seemed to lapse into a contemplative silence for a few minutes, until Noreen spoke up.
"Just how powerful are you, Harry?" she asked him.
"Er — I'm not really sure how to answer that," he replied, unsure of what could have prompted her question.
"I'm talking about just now, when you got in Malfoy's face," she explained. "That was the first time I've ever felt someone else's magic like that. It's like it was pouring out of you — it actually made my hair stand on end."
"Ooh, was that why the big one couldn't touch him?" asked Felicity, with dawning comprehension.
"You've seen him at our Underground meetings," said Astoria. "Harry is extremely powerful, he's just good at keeping it under control…most of the time."
"I'm probably above average, but it's not like I'm Dumbledore or anything," he replied, almost dismissively. "More than enough for tossers like Malfoy, though."
"Let's just forget about him for now," Astoria insisted. "How did it go with the Diggorys?"
"Pretty well, I'd say," he replied. "We were both able to share a lot of stories about Cedric — that's why we took so long. I'm not sure if it'll help or not, but at least they fully understand what happened."
"That's good, I'm sure they really appreciated it. Have you thought about what you want to do with the rest of the day?"
If the room weren't so loud, Harry's rumbling stomach would have provided all the answer she needed.
"Well first things first, could you help me track down Rosmerta?" he asked. "I'm bloody starving…"