Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R!
This story is a collaboration work between Avoranger and Cal the Wandcrafter!
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Hope you like it!
Enjoy! (≧◡≦)9
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In the hushed corridors of Hogwarts, a rumour had swept through the enchanted castle like a tempest, all thanks to on Theo Nott, the castle's most esteemed purveyor of whispers, gossip, and secrets. Daphne Greengrass, a name that had been free from the drudgery of rumors was now entwined with another's in the web of hearsay. Harry Potter, the star of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the triumphant victor of the last Triwizard Tournament, found himself at the heart of a love scandal!
Fanciful tales relentlessly spread, as the fervent gossips and busy bodies of Hogwarts were ruthless in their conjectures. Did Greengrass use a love potion to ensnare the Gryffindor hero? Had she whispered the enchantments of a confundus spell to beguile his heart? Some even dared to suggest the imperious curse, a sinister possibility that hung in the air like a noxious fog. These were but the darker whispers that swirled through the halls.
Yet, amidst the cacophony of skepticism, a softer refrain could be heard. An anthem of hope, sung by those who believed that Daphne Greengrass and Harry Potter were a match woven by destiny. A perfect, picturesque couple, an enchanting duo, their union was painted with shades of charm and affection. Their reputations intertwined, and as they graced the corridors together, whispers of admiration swirled like a harmonious symphony… Or at least that is what Lavender and Parvarti like to claim, as the two girls had read one to many romance novels.
Harry Potter, the pinnacle of fame, magic forged from battle, and body honed by the rigours of physical training and the exhilaration of Quidditch, bore the weight of adoration from the female populace. Half the girl's hearts, it seemed, fluttered in his presence, and the other half held the bitterness of enmity against him, courtesy of the Daily Prophet.
Daphne Greengrass, no less illustrious than her famed counterpart, was renowned as one of Hogwarts' most beautiful witches. Her lustrous vanilla blonde tresses cascaded gracefully beyond her shoulders, her alabaster skin rivalling the most delicate porcelain. Tall and willowy, her figure was graced with a generous measure of elegance. The artistry in her wandwork was celebrated by none other than Professor Flitwick, who held her in the highest regard. Whispers of him naming her as his successor fluttered through the air, though destiny seemed to have other plans.
The Greengrass family, with roots steeped in the magical history of Britain, had carved an indomitable legacy. They had been the saviours of wizarding Britain's economy, emerging from the shadow of Grindelwald's menace in 1945, and later, in the throes of the First Wizarding War in 1981. Their astute financial acumen had steered the wizarding society away from the abyss of inflation and financial ruin, their intervention sparing Gringotts from insurmountable debts and soaring interest rates.
Such invaluable contributions had thrust the Greengrass family into a leadership role in the realm of economics and international trade. Many lauded the genius of Bernardy Greengrass, whose vision had set this course in motion, a mantle now carried by Cyrus Greengrass. The eldest daughter of the Greengrass clan, Daphne, shone brightly on the path to be a worthy successor, her inheritance marked by a legacy of genius, sagacity, and an unwavering commitment to the wizarding world.
And nobody needed to expand upon the legacy of the House of Potter, famed in transfiguration, charms and potions for centuries, and a long line of exceptional aurors and war heros. It was the exact type of drama that the school populous would read about it Witch Weekly, except with a front row seat to the show.
With various speculations about the two of them, so far neither of them has opened their mouths to comment. Truly it was the most exciting rumour to grace the hallowed halls of magical learning at least a century. And the couple in question found it to be utterly insufferable.
Currently, the better half of the couple leaned casually against the aged bathroom wall, patiently awaiting her boyfriend's arrival. Harry had promised to take her to the Chamber of Secrets, and after the week she had been slugging through, she was looking forward to some alone time with him.
Daphne couldn't help but wonder who had spilled the beans about their secret relationship. They'd been careful to keep things on the down-low, hoping to put a lid on the gossip mill. They had already talked about officially dating, deciding to go public with their relationship once the dust had settled from Voldemort's return, which meant after their fifth year. But now, their well-thought-out plans had unravelled, and they were caught in the middle of a brewing storm.
Daphne let out a resigned sigh and turned her head towards the entrance, her ears perking up as she heard Harry's slightly out-of-breath arrival. A look of concern crossed her face as she asked, "Harry, are you okay?"
After catching his breath, Harry flashed a grin and responded, "I'm good. Ron just couldn't bear to leave me alone, so I had to make a quick escape."
Daphne cast a wary glance towards the bathroom entrance, inquiring, "You're sure he didn't follow you here?"
Harry, his eyes glinting mischievously, reassured her, "Absolutely. I've got the Marauder's Map with me."
Daphne rolled her eyes, appreciating the magical assist. "Alright then, let's get going," she said, turning her attention to the bathroom sink. In a hushed tone, Harry spoke the password in Parseltongue.
Daphne pretended not to notice the peculiar language Harry used, only turning her head when she heard the grinding of stone. The sink had transformed, unveiling the entrance to their destination.
"Wow," she whispered, her eyes widening in awe.
"Jump!" Harry urged, excitement evident in his voice.
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and suggested with a touch of sarcasm, "Are you sure about that? Maybe you should ask for a set of stairs, Mr. Potter."
Harry chuckled, with a shake of his head. "It was worth a try, to see if you'd actually do it". He tried again, this time requesting stairs, and the sink obediently reshaped to create a staircase.
"Perfect!" Daphne exclaimed, flashing a wide smile, which Harry proudly returned.
Harry took the lead down the stairs, and Daphne followed closely behind, her excitement growing with each step they took. Together, they ventured deeper into the fabled Chamber of Secrets.
Upon entering the chamber, Daphne's eyes widened with surprise as she took in the surroundings. "So, this is the legendary Chamber of Secrets?" she remarked, her voice filled with curiosity. "It's even more extensive than I imagined."
Harry, noting her reaction, playfully teased, "You don't seem all that enthusiastic."
Daphne, however, couldn't help but express her disappointment. "Well, it's not quite what I expected. I always pictured the Chamber of Secrets as a hidden treasure trove of sacred objects and relics belonging to Salazar Slytherin. But here, all I see are statues resembling him, a flooded floor, and a nearly skeletal Basilisk carcass." She let out a sigh.
Harry, studying the remains of the Basilisk, muttered to himself, "Is it just me, or is the Basilisk smaller than I remember?" He then turned to Daphne, who remained unimpressed. "I thought you'd be surprised or maybe a little scared, or at least have something more to say about the Basilisk."
She offered a rueful smile and said, "I'm sorry if I'm not as amazed as you might have hoped, Harry. Maybe if we had visited this place when I was younger, it would have left a stronger impression. After all, once you see some of the creatures Luna will eventually discover in the Amazon, giant snakes seem a little tame." They both shared a slight shiver at the though of the photo album the blonde Ravenclaw had kept from her expeditions in the future. Her tone then softened as she continued, "But I'm truly grateful that you confronted and defeated this creature. We had no idea there was such a colossal monster lurking in the castle. Im not sure what we thought it was exactly, but this… Well a giant snake does seem kind of obvious in hindsight, actually."
Harry nodded, appreciating her heartfelt words. "Thank you," he said. "Im kind of curious though, who did you think the culprit was?"
"Did I think that you were the Heir of Slytherin?"
Harry nodded.
"Of course not. Despite Malfoy's incessant ramblings, I never believed you were the culprit, but what could I do? I was in the minority, just a second-year student, despite my family's influence. The other Slytherins wouldn't take it lightly if I spoke up in your defence," she sighed heavily, shaking her head in frustration. "Still, I should've been braver and said something. I'm sorry for being a coward back then," her voice carried a hint of regret.
Harry gently held her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't blame yourself, Daphne. We were just kids back then, for Merlin's sake! I understand, and it's all in the past now, okay?" He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her hand.
"Thank you, Harry," Daphne said, her smile warm and appreciative. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he followed suit. "Lets go check out the snake, then?"
"Snakes… Why does it always have to be snakes?" he smiled, elbowing her side playfully. This does kind of seem like a movie doesn't it? Two explorers search the ruins to find the hidden treasure?"
"You vill take me to ze map room to find ze vand of Salazar, Dr. Potter!" She intoned with a grin as the two of them walked around the mostly rotted snake carcass.
Playing along, he took a defensive stance and pointed dramatically "Never, Frauline Greengrass! It belongs in a museum!"
Daphne let out a snort of laughter as she shook her head. "You are such a nerd, Harry." She leaned down to inspect the upper jaw of the skeleton, as Harry ran a hand along a deep gouge in the bone across the beast's eyesocket.
"It's not my fault that my beautiful girlfriend is obsessed with movies and likes to snuggle—," Harry began before being cut off by a gasp from Daphne.
"Harry, look!" Daphne exclaimed, excitement in her voice as she pointed at the Basilisk's jaw. Harry squinted to see what had caught her attention. "I never would have thought that the venom gland would still be intact!" Daphne continued, her eyes sparkling.
Harry squinted and gave another look in the direction Daphne was pointing, trying to discern what had caught her excitement. "I don't see anything," he admitted, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the Basilisk's jaw.
Daphne, undeterred, pointed again with more enthusiasm. "That's it, Harry... it's like a sac, nestled in its upper jaw, just behind the fangs. It's a bulbous, kind of translucent structure, you can barely make it out through the rot in the top of the mouth," she described, pointing out the deadly gland, her voice full of anticipation.
"Oh! Lucky I didn't stab it there then… Fawkes might not have been able to do much to me after that… Is it still extractable?" Harry asked.
Daphne nodded enthusiastically, "Of course! Its remarkably well preserved compared to the other parts." But then her expression shifted. "But I don't think I can harvest it now, we don't have any tools to handle this," she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Winky!" Harry called out suddenly. Daphne looked at him with a quizzical expression as Harry grinned charmingly.
"Harry, sir, call Winky?" she said with surprise, but her gaze turned fearful when she saw the Basilisk's carcass.
"Sir... sir!" she stammered, hiding her face with her apron. Harry winced, and Daphne shook her head before continuing to inspect the snake while Harry spoke with Winky.
"It's okay, Winky! It's already dead," Harry reassured her.
Winky slowly lowered her apron and spoke hesitantly, "Wh-what can Winky do, sir?" Her gaze remained cautious, darting back to the enormous snake.
"Could you please bring us a set of silver scalpels and some vials? Shatterproof ones, if possible. Oh and two pairs of dragonhide gloves?" Harry requested, and the elf nodded shyly. "Thank you, Winky," he added with a warm smile.
Winky immediately vanished and reappeared a few minutes later, leaving several vials, a set of razor sharp knives, and two pairs of dragonhide gloves on the floor before disappearing again a second later.
Daphne couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Poor Winky!"
Harry, pretending to be cross, said, "And whose fault is that?" as he picked up the vials and gloves.
"Yours, of course, for suddenly calling her without warning," Daphne replied playfully as she put on one of the gloves. Harry followed suit.
He shook his head and said, "Yeah, I forgot just how skittish she was back in this time. I'll have to do something nice for her later." After a moment's pause, he continued, "I'll figure that out later, though. Let's get to work harvesting!"
During the harvesting process, Harry carefully followed Daphne's instructions, shining a light from the tip of his wand on the Basilisk's jaw to make it more visible. Half an hour later, Daphne managed to extract several vials of Basilisk venom from its glands, squeezing them dry.
"You know, at first I thought about suggesting we just check if the fangs were still in good condition, but it turns out we've found a little bit more than that," Harry remarked.
"This is more than just 'a little bit more', Harry! It's a fortune! I believe we won't need more than a few drops to destroy a Horcrux," she said with a smile.
"I guess so, even just stabbing it with the fangs also works splendidly though," he shrugged. "But fortunes, eh? How much do you think it's worth?"
"With how rare this thing is… I think it's worth more than the prize you got last year for four ounces," she grinning madly.
In the dimly lit chamber, as Daphne carefully stowed the vials within her bag, Harry's eyes scanned the familiar surroundings. It had been quite a while since he had ventured down to this place, roughly fifteen years or so – give or take a year or two. Aside from the lifeless Basilisk sprawled out before him, little had changed in the Chamber of Secrets. However, one mystery had always gnawed at the edges of Harry's curiosity: the concealed cave from which Tom Riddle's incarnation had summoned the Basilisk. Could it hold hidden treasures or concealed secrets?
"Daph, would you care to explore that cave where the Basilisk emerged?" Harry's question seized her attention.
She cast him a quizzical look. "What cave? I see no cave here, Harry, other than the entrance."
"See that massive statue at the end of this path?" Daphne nodded, eyeing the imposing figure of Salazar Slytherin. "That's where the Basilisk emerged from."
"Can you unlock it? Is the password the same as the entrance?"
"Yes, I can open it, but no, the password is different."
"Then by all means, let's uncover the mysteries it holds," she replied with a playful jest, though a hint of excitement gleamed in her eyes.
"I hope so." With those words, Harry recited the incantation in Parseltongue that Tom Riddle had used to summon the Basilisk. He was grateful his ability to communicate with snakes hadn't faded, even after the remnants of Voldemort within his scar had disappeared. Daphne shuddered slightly as she heard him speak the serpentine language.
"I'll never get used to hearing you hiss like that," she admitted, glancing at Harry. A grin then crept across her face. "Though it does have its uses, and I must say, I quite like it."
Harry chuckled at her comment. "Yeah, I like it too," he said with a wink, causing Daphne to attempt to maintain her cool exterior, though her blush betrayed her true feelings. Harry couldn't help but grin.
"Enough chit-chat, Harry! Just op—" Daphne's words were abruptly cut off as the cave, an extension of the towering statue, began to open with the creaking of ancient stones. Harry and Daphne exchanged a nervous but exhilarated glance.
"I don't think it'll be easy, but let's go," Harry said, taking Daphne's hand, their wands at the ready as they ventured towards the cave. The anticipation weighed heavily on them, for they had no idea of what lay in store within.
"It's more nerve-wracking than facing that giant snake," Daphne confessed, devoid of humor in her voice. Harry simply nodded.
Then, a thought struck her. "Harry, have you spoken with Granger yet? It's been a week, you know? And did you find out who spread that...thing?"
Harry scratched his head, his response resolute. "Why should I?"
"Don't you want your best friend back?"
"Of course, I do! But..." he sighed, his expression revealing his reluctance. "Ron talked to me about it, too. For now, I'll let her work it out on her own. She's usually skeptical until she experiences it herself."
"Is that so?" Daphne remained skeptical.
"Yeah, especially with the security measures I put in place. She didn't trust me to handle it. Maybe I'll talk to her when she reaches out first," he said nonchalantly. "I've always known she's bossy, but it wasn't until recently that I truly understood how infuriating it can be. Her unwavering faith in authority makes it hard to convince her of its flaws unless she witnesses them herself."
Daphne hummed in agreement. "Yes, she can be quite infuriating. Unbeknownst to her, she loves to flaunt her superiority, even though Tracey is actually at the top. Plus, she has a penchant for breaking rules, which can be a tad hypocritical, don't you think?"
Harry laughed, sharing in her amusement. "You're absolutely right. She once told me she'd rather die than be expelled."
"What? That's absurd!" Daphne joined in Harry's laughter. After their mirth subsided, she continued, "But, Harry, did she know about your detention last time, or that your hand was injured?"
He looked pensive. "I think she might have...I never told her. They pieced it together themselves. Ron was the first to realize during Quidditch practice when he saw me wince and noticed my injured hand. As for Hermione, I'm not sure how she found out – she never asked."
Daphne nodded in understanding. "But this time, they haven't figured it out?"
"Yeah, perhaps because I only got a one-night detention with Umbridge? It was just one night, and you were nursing me back to health afterward. There wasn't even a scar, so there was no point in telling her about it."
"Did she ask about it at all?"
He nodded, "She did during breakfast, apologising that she couldn't wait up for me. I only told her that Umbridge just told me to write lines, then she looked like she wanted to say or ask something but I don't know. I didn't want to deal with her so I just let her be and continued eating. I mean, if she wanted to ask, she usually never hesitates like that," he shrugged nonchalantly. "That's kind of weird if I think now," he hummed.
She looked thoughtful, "I think she didn't take it seriously because you didn't tell her the truth about the detention."
"You may be on to something there, Daph." He conceded with a contemplative look.
"You should tell her, Harry."
"What? Un-bloody likely, Daph! I want to vomit when I think about it! I don't want to remember that shit!" He took a deep breath. "I mean, I know, you're right. I should be honest with her. It's the cost of knowing everything, and I just want to shield them. I don't want them to go through what we did. I realise it was tough and they need to grow by confronting it. I understand… but… it's frustrating," he said, rubbing his face in exasperation.
Daphne patted his back lovingly. "We still need to tell them about her sooner or later, Harry."
"Guess so. I will think about it. Can we stop talking about it, please?" He pleaded. She nodded.
When they entered, they immediately cast Lumos and were greeted by a dark room. As the light filled the room, they discovered a fairly long corridor.
"I thought the snake lived here," Harry muttered.
"Maybe it's just a gateway or something?" She speculated, and Harry shrugged as they continued walking hand in hand.
"So about the rumour mill, What did you find out?" She started another topic.
"Oh, about the gossip? Yeah, it was Lavender who started it," he rolled his eyes irritably.
She frowned, "I don't remember being together with you when she was around."
He sighed, "She overheard when Hermione and Ron were talking about us... in the middle of the common room. She kept trying to corner me to ask questions," he grimaced. "And she probably told some of her friends in Hufflepuff, which probably spread to Ravenclaw, and then probably ended up with Nott in Slytherin. That damn girl is almost as bad as Skeeter, I swear!"
"I'm still going to hurt Theo, even if he didnt start it." Daphne grumbled and crossed her arms as Harry gave her a smile. As they walked further in, the corridor they passed slowly started to get bigger.
"That bastard keeps smirking at me like he thinks hes trying to ruin my reputation. The idiot thinks that saying I'm dating the most beautiful girl in the school is somehow going to make my life harder. Maybe he doesnt think its true and is trying to make us fight about it?" he murmured angrily.
"Probably. He's a moron that thinks he's a string puller, but he seriously doesn't have any real ambition." She paused and shook her head. "What should we do? I don't mind if we go public now or maybe in a few weeks?"
"Are you sure? I don't mind either... How about on the day of the Quidditch match?"
"When is it?"
"Early next month. Do you think that is the right moment to reveal our relationship?"
She smirked, "Yeah, I could wear your jersey to spite everyone."
He laughed. "Oh, I love that idea! Remind me to give you one later. Do you have any green and silver scarves I could wear?" They shared a smile as they came to a large archway at the end of the hallway. As they walked through, they stopped in a room big enough for a giant snake to live in. But as they inspected the cavern, there was something that made both of their eyes widen in amazement - In the dim light, they saw a library carved into the stone of the walls around them. Daphne walked ahead, saw a torch, and lit it up with a wave of her wand. The light from it immediately illuminated the room the cavern became more clear, revealing massive rows of bookshelves encircling the room, about three levels high.
"This... this is incredible!" Daphne muttered in awe. "Even more impressive than the previous room, despite the fortunes we found. It's not just about wealth; it's something truly priceless," she said in wonder.
"Yeah," he nodded, still amazed. "I never thought to come back here and explore," he admitted. "Back then, I was too young, naive, and traumatized. Lockhart, Ginny, Ron, and I had Fawkes help us get out of this place as fast as he could. Besides, Hermione was in the Infirmary, frozen like a statue. I never brought anyone here until Ron decided to come with Hermione to destroy Helga Hufflepuff's Cup during the war. Ron was pretty confident when he claimed he could imitate the hissing sound because he said he often heard me hissing in my sleep," he chuckled. "And in case you're wondering, yes, he succeeded. I couldn't help but praise him," he shrugged.
Daphne just hummed. "So, not even Hermione convinced you to bring her here?"
"Eh, I just realized..." he giggled, a memory escaping him. "She never asked me to bring her down here," he grinned.
"So, am I the first person you've intentionally invited?" She teased.
"After that tragedy? Then yes! You're the first person I've asked to visit this place!"
"Good to know!" she smiled triumphantly, picking one of the books from the shelves. "Wow, these books are really old..." Daphne took and slowly opened one of the books. Although it was still in pretty good condition, thanks to the stasis spell, she couldn't read the book well as the language seemed to be some ancient script which she could not identify. "There are a bunch of old books in the Department of Internal Affairs' library, most are of old legal text from different cultures, but none of them are as ancient as these. I wonder what they say? Well I suppose we can't expect life to be too easy for us, just handing us an ancient library written in perfect Charles Dickens English." Daphne slipped the book back into its place in disappointment and turned towards Harry, who was beginning to walk toward a strangely empty painting frame, inspecting it.
"What did you find, Harry?" she walked toward him.
"Looks like an old portrait. It looks like someone set it on fire," Harry said, shaking his head, as Daphne inspected it with a frown.
"Morgana's tits! This is Salazar Slytherin's painting frame!" she gasped when she recognized the insignia engraved on one end of the frame. "There is a non magical copy of this in the common room above the fire place! What the hell! Who fuck would burn it?" she said, outrage seeping into her voice.
His eyes widened as he realised it, then he sighed. "I think Tom Riddle deliberately set it on fire, probably to gain control of the Basilisk or something," Harry guessed darkly.
"That bastard!" she gritted her teeth. "With this gone, the library is his last legacy. Heir of Slytherin, my ass!"
"Calm down, Daphne," he urged, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We can avenge his loss later, all right? I found his office desk right there. Let's check it out!" His words were meant to distract and calm her, but she remained visibly upset, exhaling sharply.
"I can't understand why he did this, honestly! Didn't he consider how valuable it was? Just by showcasing it, he could have made a fortune! What a foolish, false descendant!" Daphne continued to grumble, her frustration evident. Harry couldn't help but quietly chuckle, listening to her tirade.
"Given his insatiable thirst for power, Daph, I doubt he gave much thought to amassing wealth."
"Didn't he realize that money is a crucial part of power if he genuinely aimed to rule the world?"
"To be fair, he obtained his wealth from his devoted followers, so he probably didn't see the need to earn it himself."
"Are you defending him, Harry?"
His chuckle persisted. "No, not at all. I'm just sharing my assessment of his mindset. He simply wanted others to suffer as he did during his childhood, Daph, regardless of their blood status."
Daphne was still fuming. "I don't care about his reasons! It's still unforgivable!"
"I understand, dear Daphne. What he did is unforgivable, but remember... We already have a plan to deal with him, right? This just adds another reason why we need to eliminate him for good as soon as possible."
She regarded him with a calculating look before letting out a heavy sigh. "You're right! Let's check his desk!" He grinned, relieved to see Daphne return to her usual self.
"By the way, while I was inspecting it earlier, I stumbled upon some more documents. I haven't read them yet, but… it's troubling that I recognize the author." he mentioned, revealing a few scrolls with his wand, levitating them in the air. The handwriting was so minuscule that she had to squint to read it.
"The words on this parchment aren't as archaic as the book I was reading earlier. It's in perfectly modern English," she said in surprise.
"This is Tom Riddle's handwriting," he disclosed. "I recognized it from his diary when it would reply to what I wrote."
"The horcrux you destroyed here?"
"Yeah. Nasty little bastard." He nodded "So what does it say?"
"Let's see," She began to read it aloud, "Potential candidates: Slytherin Locket, Hufflepuff Cup, Diadem of Ravenclaw, my Family Ring. Ingredients needed to prepare the potion for the ritual on making a… Holy shit thats… I think im going to puke… Okay, I think we need to destroy this, Harry," she said after quickly scanning the paragraph below the list. It was indeed disturbing.
"Yeah, thats probably a good idea. Do you want to do the honours?" His face paled at her words.
Daphne took over the levitating spell and simply tossed the parchment into the nearby fireplace, setting it ablaze with Incendio. They watched as it turned to ashes.
"Would you like to bring some books back with us?" Harry asked, glancing at Daphne, who had crossed her arms and was watching the horrible parchments crumble to ashes.
"Maybe another time; I'm not in the mood."
Harry nodded understandingly. "We can return here whenever you're ready."
.
.
Hermione found herself in a bit of a bind. The elusive room that Harry had discovered the previous week remained frustratingly out of her grasp, her memory failing her when it came to its exact location. She kept giving Harry discreet glances, as if hoping to send him a secret signal, but Harry remained oblivious to her silent plea. She really wanted to ask him about the room, but her pride and hesitation got the better of her, even though she was desperate to find it. What Harry had described from his previous experience seemed almost too unbelievable and exaggerated. It was hard to believe that a teacher would stoop to such behavior.
There was really no need for them to go through all the trouble of signing a formal contract just to have their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Hermione was confident that the authorities would understand the importance of proper instruction, so they had formed their own study group. I mean, forming a study group was perfectly acceptable, right? Even the Charms class had one, and Professor Flitwick had given them his blessing. They could manage just fine without all the official paperwork.
In the end, Hermione finally stumbled upon an empty classroom on the third floor. It was big enough to accommodate about twenty-five students. Hermione felt a sense of accomplishment, but deep down, she couldn't help but feel a little sad that two of her closest friends weren't there to run the study group with her. But she was determined to go on by herself.
As they dove into their second lesson, the students appeared enthusiastic. However, by the end of the third session, as Hermione was getting ready to head back to the Gryffindor tower, a younger student that she had noticed was missing from the meeting came rushing in, tears streaming down her face, clutching her right arm.
"Oh there you are! The meeting just ended, is everything alright?" Hermione asked with genuine concern in her voice. "Whats wrong with your hand?" she added gently, her brow furrowing in worry.
"It hurts," the student sniffled.
Hermione probed, "What happened? How did you get hurt?" She noticed the red marks on the back of the student's hand, her eyes widening in alarm.
"It hurts, Ms. Granger!" the student sobbed. "I had detention with Professor Umbridge this evening, and she... she told me to write lines, but there was no ink."
Hermione was furrowed her brow in puzzlement. She knew that detention usually meant writing lines, just as Harry had described, but not her friend hadn't mentioned anything about not having ink. Bitter thoughts began to creep into her mind as she considered the inconsistency. She stayed silent, letting the student continue her account.
"Professor Umbridge said that I didn't need ink to write, so I did as she said. It was... it hurt. The words were all red, and she told me I had to keep writing unless I wanted more detentions," the student recounted, her cheeks wet with tears as she cried. "We should have listened to Harry! Professor Umbridge is not just mean, she's evil!" She rambled on and then shook her head, unable to say anything more, just sobbing.
Hermione hugged the distraught student, whispering soothing words to comfort her. But in her mind, she grappled with thoughts about what had just happened. Had Harry been honest about his detention? She was pretty sure he had been, as there was no sign of distress in his demeanour, except for a slight paleness that Professor McGonagall had discreetly pointed out. Hermione knew she needed to have a serious talk with Harry about what she had discovered.
.
.
Amid the warm, black-and-yellow tapestry of Hufflepuff's common room, where the gentle murmur of student conversations hung in the air, a girl with shoulder-length, scarlet hair and a well-defined figure sat tucked away in a corner. Her focus was entirely devoted to crafting a letter intended for her aunt. Nearby, a blonde-haired companion was deeply engrossed in lively conversation with a fellow student, their discussion revolving around the intricate nuances of an Herbology essay.
The blonde friend cast a quizzical frown as the red-haired girl suddenly began packing her things and rose from her seat. "Hey, Sue, what are you up to?" she asked, briefly interrupting her own essay, and their curious classmate also turned to see what was happening.
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Sue replied, "I'm going to drop off my bag in the dorm and then head to the Owlery to send a letter to my aunt. Would you like to come along?"
The blonde girl's concern was evident as she responded, "I'm sorry, but I really need to finish this before dinner. Is it alright for you to go alone?" Her tone held a touch of worry, and she felt guilty for not being able to accompany her. However, looming homework deadlines and her upcoming duty as a prefect later that night made her decision clear – she intended to head straight to bed after her patrol.
Sue offered a reassuring smile. "No problem, Hannah. Thanks for caring! See you later!"
The honey-coloured torches lining the corridor flickered softly, casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. Susan's footsteps were hushed as she padded along in her soft-soled shoes, clutching a parchment tightly in her hand. She couldn't shake the persistent thought that had been gnawing at her ever since Professor Umbridge had arrived at Hogwarts.
Why on earth was Professor Umbridge here?
The dark red-haired Hufflepuff couldn't deny the presence of the woman was a troubling mystery - Her reputation preceded her, and the rumours that swirled about Umbridge were far from reassuring. She was in too high of a position in the Ministry to be put on something as simple as temporary teaching duty, so why had she been sent to Hogwarts? As she passed the paintings that adorned the corridor, she couldn't help but think back to the first time she had seen the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor back at the opening feast. Umbridge's sickly-sweet voice and saccharine smile had been disconcerting, to say the least.
Reaching the owlery, Susan pushed the heavy wooden door open and was greeted by the soft hoots and fluttering wings of the resident owls. The room was bathed in sunlight streaming through the high, narrow windows. She found her family owl, a beautiful tawny named Aurora, perched on a branch about midway up the tower. Aurora blinked her amber eyes at Susan and extended her leg, waiting for the letter.
With practised care, Susan tied the letter to Aurora's leg and whispered her destination. The owl took off silently into the sky, and Susan watched as she disappeared into the distance. The sense of relief she often found in the company of owls was fleeting, as her thoughts once again returned to Professor Umbridge.
Umbridge's presence had become an oppressive weight upon the school. She had brought with her a draconian set of rules and a relentless obsession with discipline, all under the guise of protecting the students. Susan knew, as did many others, that there was something more sinister behind Umbridge's actions.
As she stared out of the owlery window, she recalled the whispers she had overheard among the staff and students. Some spoke of a Ministry of Magic that was meddling in the affairs of the school. Others believed that Hogwarts was being infiltrated by dark forces, and Umbridge was a pawn in a larger, malevolent game.
The thought that Hogwarts, a place she had always considered her sanctuary, might be under threat sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't ignore the unease that gnawed at her, and her innate Hufflepuff sense of loyalty urged her to act, but it puzzled her as to what she, just a student, could possibly do.
Deep in thought, Susan remained in the owlery, lost in contemplation, the rays of light illuminating her face as she gazed out into the grounds of Hogwarts. It was clear that something was amiss, and she was determined to find out what.
.
.
As Susan made her way back to Hufflepuff house, she heard a commotion echoing from a nearby hallway. Fueled by her sense of justice, she quickened her pace and headed toward the disturbance. As she got closer, she realized what was going on.
"Parkinson, hold on! What's happening here?" Susan intervened with an edge of anger as she saw two students, one injured and the other providing support, backing away from the fifth-year prefect. It was clear that the two of them were first-year Gryffindors.
"Are you guys alright?" she asked, directing her concern toward the less injured student. After receiving a nod, Susan was about to offer more help when Pansy Parkinson's words infuriated her.
"Stay out of this, Bones! They needed to learn a lesson!" Pansy retorted with a smug tone, casting a disdainful look at the injured first-years. "They bumped into me, and everything I was carrying fell. It's all expensive stuff! I doubt they can afford to replace anything if it's damaged or lost!"
Susan couldn't believe her ears. "You really shouldn't be doing this. It's a minor issue that can be sorted out without making a scene," she protested, her expression displaying her disapproval of Pansy Parkinson's treatment of the first years.
Pansy scoffed in response, "This is a big deal! Especially when it's because of a mudblood's clumsiness. You think it's no big deal? I feel totally contaminated!"
Susan's anger flushed her cheeks as she replied, "Don't use that word around me!" Pansy, the focus of Susan's anger, simply rolled her eyes.
Pansy, however, kept going. "Your loss, Bones. You're the heir to the House of Bones. You should be on my side, not theirs!" Her condescending tone and the flip of her hair only further irked Susan, although she managed to keep her composure.
Susan stated firmly, "It's none of your business which side I pick. What does it have to do with you?" She held her wand, a gesture Pansy clearly noticed.
Pansy's parting words were filled with disdain. "Do as you wish, Bones! Muggle-lovers and blood traitors!" With that, she walked away. Susan watched her depart quickly, seemingly in a hurry to get away, until Pansy disappeared at an intersection.
Susan muttered under her breath, "That insufferable witch!" For a moment, she forgot she wasn't alone. She quickly realised it and turned her attention back to the two scared first-year students.
"I'm sorry if I got carried away," she said, her tone carrying a touch of guilt and an awkward smile, aware that she might have frightened them. Neither of them responded, so Susan continued.
"Come on, let me help you get to the infirmary. Dinner will be served soon, and I don't want you to miss it. What do you think?" She offered a warm smile. The two first-year students exchanged glances and then nodded hesitantly.
"Thanks," the injured girl mumbled shyly.
"As an older student, it's my job to look out for our younger peers, even if we're in different houses," Susan said with a shrug. "Sometimes I find the whole house system a bit absurd." She chuckled, and the two first-year students smiled. They walked together toward the infirmary, which fortunately wasn't far from where they stood.
.
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"Really?!" she muttered irritably as her feet touched the ground after the Portkey had deposited her. What lay before her was a serene marina, complete with a sprinkling of yachts and fishing boats moored at the docks, the expansive blue sea stretching to the horizon. She squinted against the sunlight, searching for the source of the voice that had called her name. After a few moments, her eyes landed on a man, Cyrus Greengrass, animatedly waving from a fishing boat not far from where she stood.
With a wave in response, she began to make her way towards him. The boat was impressively large, a fact that left her slightly unamused. She had half-expected that someone like Cyrus would possess a watercraft that outclassed even those of Hogwarts or the Ministry. Amelia wouldn't have been surprised if he also owned a Muggle contraption that could take flight, an aeroplane, she recalled - the man was not quite a muggle technology fanatic on the level of Arthur Weasley, but he did enjoy fancy things, which often came in handy when courting his business partners in the muggle world.
"Come on!" Cyrus cheerfully beckoned, a broad smile illuminating his face as he rested his hands on his hips. He was clad in a Hawaiian shirt and knee-length cargo pants, a stark contrast to her own attire. Amelia had opted for a white short-sleeved shirt, jeans, a coat, and sturdy boots.
"Shouldn't you have come to my office?" she quipped sarcastically, adding, "And I feel overdressed; you should have advised me on the appropriate attire, you moron!"
Cyrus grinned innocently and replied, "You have a point, but I have a feeling that our conversation today isn't solely about your preferences." He sighed, and she rolled her eyes in response. "And as for the outfit, it's less conspicuous than if I were to stick to my everyday attire," he shrugged.
"Fine, you have a point," she grumbled as she boarded the boat and settled on one of the benches.
Cyrus deftly loosened the boat from the dock, allowing it to slowly drift away with the gentle breeze, and with a subtle wave of his wand, the overhead sail dropped and turned to catch the wind. They sat in silence, lost in their thoughts as the vessel distanced itself from the shore.
"I didn't want to risk anyone eavesdropping," he began. "I know your office is secure, but there's always a chance someone could plant a listening charm. I doubt anyone would suspect us out here; no one would imagine Madame Amelia Bones and Lord Cyrus Greengrass sailing idly on a muggle vessel while fishing." He chuckled at his eccentricity, and Amelia rolled her eyes in response. Cyrus continued, "Moreover, if I visit your office too frequently, it may raise suspicion. I'm not an official Ministry employee; you recruited me for my financial prowess. If Fudge and Lucius saw you with me, they might accuse you of money laundering, insider trading, or some other nonsense. You could lose your job."
The sparkling sea stretched as far as the eye could see, the sunlight glinting off the water's surface. The gentle breeze ruffled her hair, which was a rare sight as she seldom wore it in a ponytail. The atmosphere was undeniably peaceful. She turned to Cyrus and remarked, "You're right. But I can't decide if I should be impressed or not. Remind me again why we're friends?" she asked playfully, eliciting a groan of protest from Cyrus. "It's been a long time since I enjoyed sailing like this, and it was in more of a canoe than a proper yacht," she continued, "the boat ride to Azkaban is always exhausting and stressful." She gave a content sigh and breathed in the salty air. "So, shall we begin?" Her words immediately shifted his focus from grumbling to their conversation.
"I'll go first?" Cyrus suggested with a sly grin, withdrawing a fishing rod from a bag and retrieving a small box of bait from beneath the bench. Amelia nodded and observed his actions with curiosity, refraining from commenting. "I've brought two rods; want to try your hand at fishing?" he offered, gesturing towards another bag. After a moment's contemplation, Amelia decided to accept and took the spare fishing rod that Cyrus had prepared. She followed his lead, eager to give it a shot.
Cyrus cast his fishing line with a swift and practised motion, guiding Amelia through the process before they sat side by side, waiting for a bite. "Fudge is dabbling in something perilous behind our backs," Cyrus stated matter of factly. "He's established a covert department called the High Inquisitor's Office to supplant the Internal Affairs division. I suspect he is worried about being investigated, himself, and wants to firmly place himself above the law. The money trail was buried deep, and was hard to find, but it was there. Fortunately, one of our spies stumbled upon their plan, and I managed to pull some strings to thwart it. But one part of their scheme was successful. Can you guess where?"
"Hogwarts?" She ventured.
Cyrus nodded gravely.
"Umbridge, then. I was furious when I found out about her appointment. He has no legal basis to appoint professors, and he knew it. Had to make a couple of threats to stop him from trying to go further than that." She recounted.
"Surely, you didn't stop at just threats," Cyrus remarked, and her smirk revealed the truth.
"Of course not," she scoffed. "We raided a few of his pet project departments that had been getting more funding than usual, directly on his orders. I'm guessing this High Inquisitor's Office was part of either Ministry Acquisitions or the Department of Magical Secrecy?"
Cyrus clapped, impressed.
"It was in Acquisitions. It was set up to look like they were supposed to be auditing departments to make sure nobody was embezzling, which is quite ironic coming from Fudge. Nobody would look twice at a new branch of Acquisitions to make sure that people aren't messing with their parchment and paper clip orders to hide financial crimes. But it's not that hard to see how it could be easily put to use to shut down Internal Affairs."
"Should we visit Hogwarts to put a halt to the rest of it?" he inquired.
Amelia hesitated. "I'll have to consider it first," she replied. "Going to Hogwarts might not be so straightforward. Umbridge won't want to relinquish her newfound authority at the castle, especially after losing some of her prestige in the Ministry after that trial over the summer. And I can already imagine Dumbledore's reaction when he sees me," she grumbled.
Cyrus chuckled. "Then we must ensure that Internal Affairs continues to flourish within the Ministry, ensuring that such schemes are thwarted at all costs. After all, the DMLE is sworn to uphold the law at all costs. I'm certain that if Dumbledore were aware of your predicament, he'd take action. After all, he's still the headmaster of Hogwarts, and hes not an idiot, despite what Fudge may claim. If he smells danger to his castle, then may the devil have mercy on the one who caused it, because God Himself will be to scared to piss off Albus Dumbledore by entertaining mercy to Delores Umbridge."
She regarded her money-savvy friend with scepticism. "I hope so. With the negative press he's received and opposition in the Wizengamot following Harry Potter's testimony last summer, I hope Albus has a plan to rid the castle of that toad," she sighed.
Cyrus grimaced. "Speaking of that testimony, I don't know if it's related, but Lucius Malfoy visited my home a few weeks ago—uninvited," he added with irritation.
Amelia's eyes widened. "What did he want from you?"
"At first, we discussed business. He wanted to order several cases of the finest wine from one of my vineyards for a banquet - Nothing strange about that, as the vintage he wanted was particularly excellent, and was recommended to him by some French nobility. But then, he veered into discussions about power, blood purity, and someone who could ensure we get what should belong to 'us.' It left me with an unpleasant feeling, and I was utterly repulsed by every word he spoke. He even extended an invitation to the event before finally taking his leave," Cyrus explained with a shudder. "It was then that I recalled our conversation about Harry Potter. I promptly burned the invitation and, a week later, I sent him a rejection letter. I knew it was a lucrative deal, but I didn't want to risk potentially catering to… Well, if what I suspect is true, then its best not to mention it aloud. The following day, Lucius came to my office to express his displeasure and called me a fool. I stood by my decision, though. He's just one fish in this vast sea; there's nothing to lose. He left my office with a scowl."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "So, what Harry Potter said was true?" she deduced.
"It certainly seems that way," he replied sourly.
Amelia groaned in frustration. "Fudge's mess is far from resolved, and now this? Is You-Know-Who truly back? The world is descending into madness."
"You're not alone in thinking that, my dear," Cyrus consoled her.
"How can you stay so calm?" she retorted, a hint of anger in her voice.
"I'm not," he admitted. "But thinking with a cool head is better than acting on impulse," he remarked, which, begrudgingly, she found to be true. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"So, have you heard from Susan lately? My Daphne sent me a letter a few days ago," he inquired, shifting the conversation.
"Actually, that reminds me; she sent me a letter last night. It was odd, almost as if..." Amelia paused, searching for the right words.
"Like a template? Overly generic and not in her voice, like a lazy mad-lib?" Cyrus interjected, catching her off guard.
"How did you know?" she asked, genuinely taken aback.
"Daphne's letters had a similar issue, and when I ran into Augusta at the bank the other day, she mentioned something similar," he sighed. "Do you suspect Umbridge's involvement?"
"I doubt she has the capability to orchestrate something like this from Hogwarts," Amelia retorted. "How could she possibly mimic the handwriting of so many students? The school has hundreds of them!"
"Maybe not all of the students, but just the letters that involve her deeds. Besides, there's an enchanted quill, Amelia," Cyrus explained. "It can replicate the handwriting of others, and it's not available in Britain." He noticed her glare and quickly added, "I acquired a few of them from Japan."
"Why do you have them?" she pressed, seeking an explanation.
"I needed to compose various formal letters that required my handwriting, down to the last detail. I needed some assistance," he explained. "The quill functions much like a dicta-quill, but it's more precise. You have to feed the quill samples of your handwriting, and it can mimic the text to extreme accuracy. It's not foolproof, as it will sometimes repeat letters like a printed font, but it happens very rarely. I merely dictate what I want to convey. It's quite useful, as long as you know how to use it." Amelia considered this for a moment.
"Is a visit to Hogwarts now in order?"
"I'll still have to contemplate that," she responded, her tone resolute.
"Amelia, your rod!" Cyrus exclaimed suddenly, leaping from his seat as her line was yanked taut by a fish, catching her by surprise.
.
.
Dolores Umbridge seethed in her seat as she perused the letter Susan Bones had attempted to send to Amelia Bones. Her frustration was evident as she unconsciously crumpled the letter in her hand. The letter's contents, if allowed to reach Amelia, could spell trouble. The higher-ups at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had proven to be relentless, consistently thwarting her plans for the betterment of the British wizarding world. Fortunately, she had foreseen this. All letters leaving the castle would undergo her scrutiny first. Any missives containing information that could harm her, such as Susan Bones' letter, had to be promptly destroyed, and rewritten to preserve the safety of her regime.
She glanced to her custom quill finishing the letter's rewriting for Amelia, as she leisurely sipped her tea, relishing the blend of bitter and sweet flavours, complemented by her beloved sugar. She sighed contentedly, a broad smile gracing her lips. The room's serenity, punctuated by the soft meowing of the cats on the walls, created an atmosphere she adored. Then, a house elf suddenly appeared, disrupting the tranquillity. Though she yearned to cast a malevolent spell on these lowly creatures, she refrained, recognizing their usefulness despite their lowly status.
"Madam, I witnessed Miss Parkinson arguing with Miss Bones in the hallway because Miss Parkinson mistreated younger students," the house elf reported fearfully, "I've been watching Miss Bones like you had told me to." His small frame trembled with apprehension every time he had to enter the office of this new professor.
She narrowed her eyes at the humble creature, carefully considering the information. A sudden idea occurred to her, widening her smile even further, causing the timid house elf to flinch. The house elf braced for a cruel hex, his reflexes prompting him to shield his face. Yet the malevolent spell never came. He slowly opened his eyes to find the ominous new professor still smiling at him. He swallowed hard.
"Why do you fear me, lowly creature? You should be thankful for the opportunity to be of service," she said, her words honeyed but laced with venom. "Since you've provided me with valuable information, I shall grant you forgiveness this time," she continued, sipping her tea with a gratifying sigh, her eyes closed.
The winter break was approaching, and she couldn't allow the niece of the DMLE's leader to return home and report what had transpired at the castle in person. It had to work. It must work. She nodded to herself.
"Fito," she called to the trembling house elf.
"Yes, madam!" he squeaked.
"Would you be so kind as to assist me with this task, since you are such a loyal elf?" she inquired, her sweet smile masking an unsettling malevolence. The house elf immediately nodded, becoming a willing listener to the sinister schemes of the professor in pink.
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Thanks for Read!
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