Harry wasn't exactly afraid of the dark. That wasn't to say he especially enjoyed it either, but he wasn't afraid of it. At least, not anymore. The dark, in his youthful and lonely mind, was associated with bad things, like a power outage on a stormy night, or that time on a field trip where the harassing of his fellow students had been such that Harry had wished for everyone to forget him, causing him to actually be forgotten and locked up in the museum after night had fallen.

While enjoyable at first, moving around in pure darkness in an unknown and somewhat inhospitable environment had taken its toll on 6 year old Harry. Plus he was pretty sure he had broken something important at some point, but no one ever complained about that.

In fact, the only person other than him who had noticed that he hadn't come back to the orphanage that night was the matron, and even then, she just assumed he had stayed in the library for some time. Which actually is rather sad, now that he thought of it. And rather worrying.

Anyway.

The point is, Harry didn't like not seeing.

It was jarring, losing one of his senses so suddenly, as deficient as it already was. Which, admittedly, made sense, considering he was born and raised with five, so going to four was not exactly all that great.

Navigation was one of his biggest problems, though the fact that he was pretty much confined in the equivalent of a small apartment helped in not getting lost. There were some moments where he did lose track of his position and had to hesitantly walk in a random direction in hopes to find his bearings, but all in all, he was starting to get the hang of it.

He did get acquainted with the walls intimately though. And the floor. And various pieces of furniture. Alright, maybe 'getting the hang of it' was a bit of a stretch.

Daphne, bless her heart, helped him greatly in the few days he had known her for. She wasn't constantly by his side, since her sister Astoria apparently had something of a relapse in her condition, but she had taken some time to help him get a feel for the lodgings they currently resided in.

There were other problems though, all focused around the loss of autonomy. Eating was something of a torture now, and the few times Daphne had offered help were especially humiliating. Not that it was her fault or that she had mocked him, no, so far Daphne had appeared to be the definition of kindness and purity and gentleness and all the other good things Harry couldn't be bothered to list right now.

But for all her attempts at aiding him, Harry had found the fact that he had difficulty in performing even the most basic of tasks on his own to be quite the hit to his personal pride. Professor Dumbledore had said that there would come a time where he would be proficient enough that he would regain most of his autonomy, however that didn't change the fact that, in the present, Harry was especially disgruntled with himself.

For all his woes though, the hardest thing to swallow was by far the fact that he couldn't read anymore. As the prime example of a living stereotype of his house, Harry had enjoyed reading above nearly all else. Books were his refuge from the loneliness of his childhood, and the pursuit of obscure magical knowledge had become his number one passion throughout his time at Hogwarts.

Now, his status as a prepubescent human being hadn't exactly allowed him to delve deep into the research he was doing, but he did manage to secure some cool things.

Still. No longer could he forget his pain and sorrows in an ancient tome filled with concepts he only half-understood. Though, Harry mostly missed the knowledge within the thick leather bound tomes, having very little in the way of misery to forget throughout his time at Hogwarts, apart from his usual moody episode around All Hallow's Eve.

Despite his troubles though, Harry wouldn't complain too much. He had managed to get a hold of a charm - Professor Dumbledore taught it to him - that could translate written text into speech. It didn't help for diagrams or illustrations, something particularly frustrating given the fact that his latest ongoing venture was a compendium of common rune arrays, but he managed to comprehend most of what was being told to him. The intonations and overall blandness of the surprisingly gentle yet obviously artificial voice could use some amount of fine tuning, but it was still a handy tool to keep in mind.

Daphne had also taken to read for them both when she could, mostly before sleeping. Harry had wondered if the girl was fine with the material, and had gotten half-hearted assurances in reply, but she was steadfast on her decision to narrate to him, though her hesitance with various subjects was quickly felt. Still, she was not deterred by his multiple subsequent attempts at getting her to change her resolute mind, so Harry learned to live and let go.

Though, if he were to be honest with himself, Harry wasn't exactly vehement in his protests, not wanting to inadvertently stop what was easily becoming his favorite part of the day.

It was strange. Ever since he had awoken from his unwanted power nap, Daphne had been an almost constant presence in his mind, despite being with him only a scant few hours each day. Though, in these few hours, she would hardly leave his side. The blonde girl was apparently extremely tactile, taking every occasion to meld herself to his side, or play with his limbs, and, though he hadn't voiced his suspicions, the lingering smell of vanilla that greeted him each time he awoke told him that she most likely spent more time in his bed than hers.

And, for all his inexperience in the department, Harry found himself enjoying the physical contact far more than he ever would have thought.


Harry opened the door slowly, before stepping in. It was warmer than the rest of the apartment, with the crackles of the fireplace that heated the room accompanied by a soft and regular breathing being the only sounds reaching his ears. Closing the wooden door, he turned around, before taking out his wand.

"Accio chair."

His magic answered the incantation, a tug forming as he felt the chair being slowly dragged towards him. Finally feeling the backrest hit his waiting palm, he whipped the chair around before sitting on it, hoping his relief for not looking like a complete idiot wasn't too visible on his face.

"Wow. I was hoping you'd hit a wall or something, but here you are, lifting wood with the power of your mind. All the tables in the world must be shaking in their boots right now."

The voice was young and light, but the drawl to the words spoken told of a sort of weariness, the dichotomy leaving an odd aftertaste to the sentence. Still, he decided to make no mention of it.

"Yep, but I hear the bookshelves are planning something nefarious. Might change around my priorities, who's to know? I'm Harry by the way."

"I'm aware."

"Really? That's an unfortunate name. Daphne told me your name was Astoria though."

"Yes, well, one can never expect to be right all the time, even my darling sister. Speaking of which, just why has my sister's dashing guardian come to see me?"

The black haired boy chuckled. "To be honest, Daphne's doing most of the guarding right now. I just sit tight and try not to fall over all the time."

"And how is that particular project going then?"

"Not really well, I must admit. It's a work in progress, you know? Then again, given what Daphne told me, I can't expect you to understand the arduous task that is walking around."

"The world could not handle me being able to walk around, you heathen. You still haven't answered my question, chair molester."

"Well, I thought that I'd come visit you, considering that we're going to live together from now on. Politeness obliges, and all that."

The girl hummed in response, allowing a small silence to fill the room before she spoke up again.

"So why can't I look into your eyes then? Daphne told me you have to wear that thing all the time. Pink really isn't your color, by the way."

'What? Is it really pink?' Stepping away from the disturbing thought, the Potter child answered. "You'd die a horrible death."

"That's a little self-deprecating, but I can see where you're coming from. Some vile visions have been proven to cause shock. The rest of your face is already bad enough, no need to risk it. Good wisdom here."

"Damn. Your sister told me you had a sharp tongue, but she really underestimated the viciousness. You like eating whetting stones for breakfast or something?"

"Yeah, you figured me out. You can't see it, but I'm actually a human-goat hybrid and I eat rocks to crush my food. I accidentally ate too many of them - that's why I can't move from my bed by the way - and so I resort to petty sarcasm to make the world feel a bit of the pain I endure."

"Hmm, thought so. The bleating really gave it away, but it's nice to have confirmation."

"You should be happy you can't see, you know. It's not a pretty sight. Daphne's actually the worst, her horns have started growing, and they totally clash with her hair, it's really ugly."

"Oh? That's funny, I didn't notice them. I must have missed something then."

"Well, your feeble mind probably wouldn't have thought of it, but we have charms to hide them, you see. It's all part of our plan to end humanity in revenge for all our goat brothers and sisters killed in satanic rituals. We have to stay incognito, it wouldn't work otherwise. So we hide them. Plus, there's the whole, you know… being blind thing. That can't help."

"Ah. I'll take your word for it, then."

Astoria's retort was cut short as the door slammed open, the air rushing around Harry telling him how close he had been to an unfortunate accident.

"Astoria? What are you doing out of bed? And why is Harry in the middle of your room facing a wall?"

Ah. He really appreciated Daphne's honest observation skills. They were obviously much more developed than his spatial awareness.

"Well, he came in and sat towards it, I didn't have the heart to tell him he was wrong when he was so confident. I just moved to accommodate him, because I'm nice like that."

His friend let out a cute noise of consternation. "Hmph. Honestly, you know better than to get out of bed, considering the time of year. And couldn't you have helped him instead of mocking him? I thought I told you better than to act like that, you little rapscallion."

"Hey! I didn't mock him, thank you very much! We just had a lovely conversation about your true motives for helping him, and the fact that your horns really don't fit your face."

"Huh? Harry? What is she talking about?"

"I'm not exactly sure, to be honest. The ramblings of sick children are beyond my ability to comprehend, I just smiled and nodded at some points."

"What?! I'll show you sick, you blindfolded idiot!"

"I see. You're both as bad as the other." If he could see, Harry was sure he'd be gifted with the sight of Daphne wearing an adorable face full of disgruntlement.

"Oh come on, sister mine, we were just having fun! Right, Harry?"

"Mhmm. Your sister is quite entertaining Daphne. When she's not bleating, that is."

"Well, I'm glad you've hit it off so well, even if I'm not so sure that's a good thing for my peace of mind."

"You can't see it, but Daphne looks especially contrite right now. "

"Why, thank you for the description, interpret. Mostly your fault, I imagine."

"I don't know, I feel like hearing you speak might have ruined her mood just a tad. Just as it did mine, most likely. Then again, I could be rambling again like the sick child I am."

"Alright then, children, you better start playing nice before I get angry."

Harry could only nod dumbly as Daphne dragged him towards the bed, most probably intent on getting her usual share of cuddling.


"Is this really necessary?"

He could feel the enthusiasm filling his blonde companion as she excitedly answered, pulling his hand a bit harder than usual as they neared the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

"Yeah! We need to buy some stuff for Astoria, along with some furniture for the school year. The fact that we don't take the regular classes doesn't mean that we can just slack off, mister!"

Harry ignored the teasing tilt in his friend's voice with practiced ease. For all the admonishments directed towards her sister, Daphne was quite similar to Astoria on certain things.

"I gathered as much, yes. What I'm wondering is whether or not it truly is essential for me to be here with you."

"Hmm. You might say that now, but you'll quickly see that staying cooped up in the apartment can feel a bit stifling. I don't want to criticize the opportunity that Professor Dumbledore gave to us, but our freedom of movement can seem a little small at times… That's why things like this are the best!"

The Potter scion decided not to express the fact that spending his entire life in a small apartment seemed exactly like something he'd want to do. "Right. Did we have to spend that brief respite shopping then?"

"Huh? Shopping is great though? We can buy all sorts of cool things, not to mention actually use them! I heard there's a trinket shop that opened further up the alley, we have to go and check it out later! Oh, and we need to buy some quills, and some parchment, and I think my sister said she needed some new clothes..."

His aghast face must have been particularly striking, because Daphne giggled. "We're going clothes shopping? For Astoria?"

"Mhm. And you too, as a matter of fact. I don't mean to offend, but your clothes are kind of plain."

"Well, I'm sure the orphanage had more pressing concerns than how we were dressed. Mainly the fact that we were able to be dressed at all." Harry waved away Daphne's hurried apologies. "I don't understand why I'd have to change my clothes though. They fit me well enough, considering I'm not exactly shooting up in height yet, and it's not like I can see what I look like anyway."

"It doesn't matter if you can see or not! Don't you want to look as striking as you can? There's so much you can do, like just a jacket would go so well with those hoodies you like to wear. Oh, and some jewelry would help as well!"

Once again, Harry decided to keep his mouth shut on the fact that none of the things his friend was talking about seemed particularly great, instead voicing a different concern. "And what are we going to do about the mob?"

"Huh? Why would the Mafia be here?"

"How do you even know the Mafia? Actually, don't answer that, it's not important right now. I'm talking about the inevitable fact that, once people recognize me, they are going to start acting like a horde of blood thirsty animals."

"Ah. That's what the hat is for!"

Silence filled the air, only broken by the steps of passersby and the distant hubbub of Diagon Alley.

"I'm assuming you're holding a hat right now."

"I am indeed holding a hat right now. And you're going to put it on your head and never mention that particularly embarrassing moment to Astoria otherwise I will be very cross with you."

"Yes Daphne."

"Good. Now take my hand again and follow me, we're going shopping."

To Harry's surprise, the hat actually did its job at warding off unwanted attention remarkably well. He did hear some hushed remarks about how odd he looked, but the onlookers were quick to change the subject of their inane conversation. He did notice that Daphne's grip on his hand tightened each time it happened, but once again had let the matter slide.

The shopping wasn't that bad, if he were to be honest with himself. Daphne had a tendency to bounce around from one thing to the next in a moment, with nothing getting her to stay still for one moment. Which took a little getting used to, considering the girl had not released his hand at all during the time they spent jumping from shop to shop.

Well. She did leave him alone for a bit when he tested the various garments she brought him, if her waiting impatiently behind the door while he fought to get dressed properly could be called leaving him alone. Harry had expected to go back to Madam Malkin's shop, or even Twilfitt and Tattings, but apparently Daphne knew way more about the various businesses dotted around the Alley than he did, which meant that they had managed to escape most of the crowds.

It also helped on a more practical level, since the things they did buy were quite a bit more interesting than the usual student focused offerings he saw during the two times he had visited the place before. Harry himself had splurged quite a bit, and had almost filled his expanded pouch to the brim with various books and scrolls.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the mountain of bits and bobs his blonde friend had acquired. Despite having enumerated a small list of items at the start of their journey, Daphne was currently the happy owner of a staggering amount of random items she picked up as she led him to her destinations.

"So, remember how you told me you could speak to snakes?"

Harry cringed at the tactless reminder. While he knew that the gift of Parseltongue itself wasn't anything bad to have, the stigma associated with it had followed his every thought on the matter. He managed to keep the fact that he could speak the now reviled language to himself during his school years, but had inadvertently revealed it to Daphne at some point during conversation.

Thankfully, she had thought nothing of it, except for the fact that she had done some research on the subject and found out that his mother was very distantly related to the Gaunts. He was already aware of it, having done extensive research himself during his youth at the orphanage. That particular venue didn't give him anything worthwhile, but a visit to a genealogy workshop for his ninth birthday had yielded more significant results.

Of course, one of the first things he did upon being let free in Hogwarts was research more things on his family, where he learned of the Gaunt family, and its demise. Nowadays, he simply didn't want anything to do with them, and that included Parseltongue.

"Harry?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. I was lost in thought."

"Right. Well, I was thinking, and I think I may have come up with something that can help you move around a little more freely."

"Using Parseltongue?"

"Well, you know how muggles have those animals that help some people in their daily lives? I was thinking that maybe getting you a snake could help you."

"I think the constant hissing might give heart attacks to some people. Plus, the few snakes I talked to weren't the greatest of conversationalists."

"Yeah, but those were muggles snakes. Animals that spend a lot of time near ambient magic are often times smarter than what could be considered normal. Just look at your owl, for example."

"Really? That sounds interesting."

"Yeah. I could tell you more, my family's done a lot of research on the effects of residual and ambient magic on stuff. But later. Right now, you're going to enter the store and choose a snake that will become your lifelong companion."

He still wasn't entirely convinced, but followed Daphne into the shop anyway. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the building, a strong smell assaulted his nostrils, along with the cacophony of hoots, meowing and other cries of animals, leaving him slightly dazed.

Daphne, ever vigilant, gently coaxed him over to the reptile aisle, guiding him carefully through the walls of cages until they finally stopped.

"Well, here we are. I have to say, I knew that the sale of snakes was heavily restricted because of the war, but I didn't expect that."

"Huh? What is it?"

"Well, there's all of two snakes here, and I'm pretty sure one is dead."

"Ah. That explains why I'm not hearing anything then. If there's one alive, what's it doing?"

Daphne's voice was dry as she answered. "It's just looking at us. Maybe try speaking to it, that might excite it, I don't know."

Harry opened his mouth, only to close it immediately. "What should I say?"

"How should I know? You're the one who's already spoken to snakes before. Get to know it or something."

"Huh. Just saying hello, then?"

"Yeah, I guess."

After several seconds of silence, Harry spoke up again. "Are you sure? What if there's people around, I don't fancy ending up in jail or something just because I spook some people by hissing at a random animal."

Daphne sighed. "Harry… What brought this on? If you don't want to do it, we can just leave, you know. I just thought that this could be a way for you to walk without anyone to hold you hand, well any human anyway."

"I don't know… The last time I interacted with a snake ended up pretty badly. I know Parseltongue is rare and all, and you're right when you say that this could be a great way for me to regain some autonomy, but I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Maybe we'll go back for this guy in the future, but I'd rather not do that right now."

"Alright. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would be so difficult for you. I should have known, with the thing in the Chamber and all…"

"Don't worry about it. I'd just like to take a small break from anything snake related for now."

"Ha. You must have forgotten I'm a Slytherin, then." Daphne's grin could be heard through her teasing. "And you are not getting rid of me this easily, mister. Now, let's go home and read those books you're so fond of."


"The Unforgivables are not called as such because of their consequences for the caster, as dire as they are. Magically, there isn't much that differentiate those particular pieces of magic from any other old spell, from the user's point of view anyway. Many spells can be used to produce just as much harm as those three forbidden spells. So, one might wonder why it is exactly, that those spells are labeled with such a damning moniker.

Well, such a curious mind would only have to look as to how the spells work exactly. In this book, I, the extraordinary-"

"Ugh. I don't know who the writer of this book is, but they are seriously obnoxious."

"Yes, well, stop complaining. You are the one who chose the book for tonight."

"I didn't choose this one! I wanted to focus on runes, but someone thought that they were too boring!"

"And as the one who actually has to read the damnable thing aloud, I think I'm allowed to reserve judgment, Harry. I think that if I hear more about hieroglyphics, I'll turn into a mummy. Plus you are the one who told me that I could change the book if I thought the content was too much. And you agreed with my choice of second book, so it's basically like you chose it, really."

Daphne laughed as her companion buried his head in her shoulder, his muted grumblings reaching her ears as unrecognizable word soup. 'Huh.', the blonde mused, 'I wonder what that would taste like.'

"Now, where was I? More boring stuff… no, no… I have to admit, you do have a point considering Mr. Pollocks over here, he's a rather annoying chap. That must be because of the unfortunate name. Inferiority complex and all that. Seriously, how much can someone talk about themselves in a book about the bloody Unforgivables of all things! Why I never-"

"Daphne, the book, please…"

"Oh, right, sorry. Uh, still bragging… Ah! Here we go! The Unforgivables have earned their status by their unique working, as spells that target the soul of a being directly. Seriously!? Soul magic?"

"What's so shocking about that?"

"Well, that's supposed to be, like, the biggest no-no possible, you know?"

Harry nodded half-heartedly, his head still having not left its place in her shoulder. "Yeah, but there's obviously some people who're bound to try it at some point. Otherwise, it wouldn't be an entire discipline of itself."

"I mean, yeah, but still… The fact that spells as commonly used as the Unforgivables - as sad as that is - are considered soul magic is surprising."

Since her friend didn't reply, Daphne went back to reading. "The three spells work by enacting various atrocities to the target's soul. Firstly, the Imperius curse utilizes the caster's intent to mold the soul of the victim. Using the spell to its fullest potential requires consequent prowess as well as mental fortitude. Most commonly, the users of the curse can only control the target's actions for a limited period of time, and at a limited distance. It has been theorized however, that a skilled enough caster could permanently change the victim's soul how they see fit. Such effects haven't been well studied, but some believe that house elves are the result of such practice, their very souls having been torn and defiled, and their physical shells following soon after."

The blonde paused, needing a moment to take in the words she read, before she continued.

"The second spell is much more upfront in its depravity. The Doloris curse, later renamed in some parts of the world as the Cruciatus curse is designed to chip away at a soul tearing bits and pieces of it slowly, to accentuate the pain. In small enough doses, the targeted soul is usually strong enough to pull itself back together. Longer or more repeated exposure can however cause permanent damage, usually leading to a kind of death like state not too dissimilar to a Dementor's Kiss. More extreme cases have been reported, but most scholars seem to agree that the egregious injuries reported were self-inflicted, the result of despairing victims seeking salvation from the pain."

"The last and final piece of the dreadful puzzle is the Killing curse, the Avada Kedavra… Harry, I don't think I should continue…"

His grip tightened uncomfortably on her arm. "Go on."

"Harry…"

"Daphne. Please."

'This is such a bad idea.' the blonde thought morosely, more than a little worried about her blindfolded friend. "Aptly named for its ability to cause instant death to anyone hit by it, the curse's effects are actually far more brutal than that… Harry, I really don't think you should be hearing this."

He didn't respond immediately, instead inhaling the scent of her hair, in a rather poorly concealed attempt to calm himself. The shakiness of his fingers on her arm betrayed his pain. The Potter child's response came eventually, his voice wavering with tangible grief. "I need to know, Daphne."

The blonde sighed, before laying a kiss to his sweat marred forehead. "Alright."

"The Reaper's Blade, nicknamed as such by who is believed to be its original creator, is as painless as it is final. The soul hit with the curse is instantly annihilated, beyond any means of recovery. Even the various methods of necromancy available to us have shown that the souls destroyed by the spell are simply gone, erased as if they never existed. Moving on to the Beyond is simply impossible. It is a defilement of the natural order of things. Any who says that the use of the curse is a mercy is either a fool or a liar, or both. There can be no greater crime than this."

Daphne closed the book gently as she held her weeping companion.


Angst? In my fluffy story? It's more likely than you'd think!

Hello again, dear strangers on the internet.

It's already been more than half a year and I've only just finished the second chapter of this… I'm already aware that my writing speed is pretty horrible, but this is really pushing it.

Still, I don't think it'll improve anytime soon, with the various projects I'm working on, and all the other stuff.

Like college, and all the extracurricular things that come with it.

Or video games. I swear, Deadlock is fun and all, but this would have come out at least two weeks ago if I had never played it. Plus there's the port of God of War Ragnarök coming, so I probably won't leave my PC anymore.

Anyway, enough about me being a slowpoke.

Writing this is surprisingly hard.

I've always been more of a plot and world building kind of guy, so writing something so focused around characterizations and interactions is quite a challenge for me. Still, I'd like to think I've done a somewhat acceptable job here.

I feel like nothing all that interesting happened, and yet I don't feel like nothing happened either. It's quite odd, to be honest.

Astoria's great, despite being an absolute pain in the ass to write. I thought that writing a cynical and sarcastic character would come naturally to me, given these two words pretty much encapsulate my entire being, but coming up with dialogue that felt authentic and flowing was harder than expected.

That last scene came from nowhere, really. I just wanted to write something about spells, so I did. I feel like this kind of goes against the tone I want to have for the story, so I don't think it will happen too often, but yeah. Plus, tragedy is a core part of these characters, so some amount of sad stuff must be mentioned at some point, barring some rather extreme changes to the already established world that I frankly don't want to do.

I actually wanted to introduce some kind of familiar to help Harry move around for quite a while now, but decided to not do it here at the very last second. It's always been a bit of a gimmicky thing, at least in the things I've read, and I want to do justice to the character I plan on creating, so the next chapter will probably be focused on that.

Though I can't exactly say when that's going to come.

Knowing me, I'll probably only post one chapter before the end of the year, and it'll probably be on Anachronism, so I really can't give a timeline as to when the next chapter will be done.

Sorry for that, I guess.

Still, if you enjoyed, review, comment or whatever, and I'll see you next time.

Eventually.