The first few days at Hogwarts passed in a blur of excitement, challenge, and discovery for Harry. He quickly realized that some subjects came naturally to him, while others presented new hurdles that tested his patience and determination.
In Charms, Harry excelled right from the start. The swish and flick technique was easy enough to master, and with Professor Flitwick's clear instructions, Harry could focus on the nuances of the spells without needing to rely on sight. The other students were amazed at how quickly he picked up on new spells, the incantations rolling off his tongue with confidence. He found himself focusing on the sensations—the hum of magic in his wand, the subtle shift in the air when a spell was correctly cast.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was no different. Even without sight, Harry had a natural affinity for sensing the ebb and flow of magic, and Professor Quirrell's hesitant teaching style didn't deter him. In fact, Harry often felt like he was learning on his own, using what he could gather from the textbooks and class discussions to practice more independently. Stheno, always present, would occasionally whisper advice in his mind, reinforcing his already sharp instincts.
Transfiguration, though challenging, intrigued him. Professor McGonagall was strict but patient, and Harry found that he enjoyed the precision required for the subject. Though the lessons were demanding, Harry's focus and determination allowed him to keep pace with his classmates. His understanding of theory was impeccable, even if the practical side was trickier without sight. Still, he adapted quickly, relying on careful measurements and descriptions from Daphne or Hermione, who would often step in during moments of confusion.
However, not all subjects went as smoothly.
Potions was, by far, the most frustrating. The lack of visual cues in a subject so reliant on precision and observation made it nearly impossible for Harry to succeed on his own. The constant chopping, stirring, and watching for subtle changes in the potion's color or consistency left Harry at a disadvantage.
And then there was Professor Snape.
From the moment Harry entered Snape's classroom, the tension was palpable. Snape's voice was cold, dripping with disdain whenever he addressed Harry. It didn't take long for Harry to understand why—his father, James Potter, had left a deep scar on Snape, and Harry was now the target of that long-held bitterness.
"Potter," Snape sneered one day, as Harry struggled to measure out ingredients for a potion. "One would think, with all your... acclaimed abilities, you could at least follow a simple recipe. Or are the basics too much for even you?"
The words stung, but Harry remained silent, his fingers fumbling with the ingredients. He could feel the stares of his classmates, the whispers that followed. It wasn't the first time Snape had humiliated him in front of the class, and Harry was growing tired of it.
That's when Daphne, seated next to him, sighed audibly and muttered under her breath, "Here."
She slid the ingredients toward Harry, taking care to describe the measurements quickly. Her voice was clipped, filled with frustration, but she guided him nonetheless. Harry felt a mixture of gratitude and discomfort—he hated being the reason she was stuck with this role, but her help was invaluable in moments like these.
"Thanks," Harry murmured, though he could sense her irritation.
Daphne didn't respond immediately, her hands working quickly and efficiently on her own potion. After a moment, she grumbled, "Don't get used to it."
Despite her words, she continued to help Harry throughout the lesson, though her annoyance was clear. Potions class was slow, tedious, and required far more cooperation between them than Daphne was willing to give at first.
As the days wore on, Daphne's frustration only grew. It wasn't just about Potions anymore—guiding Harry through the halls, reading from his textbooks, and offering assistance during practical lessons in Herbology were all time-consuming tasks. She was used to being independent, focused solely on her own goals, and now she found herself constantly having to adjust her schedule to accommodate Harry's needs.
"I'm not a babysitter," she hissed one afternoon after Potions, her bright blue eyes flashing with irritation as they left the classroom. "I have my own studies to worry about."
Harry, walking alongside her, sighed softly. "I know," he said, his voice calm. "And I appreciate everything you're doing. I'll try to be more independent."
Daphne shot him a glance, her platinum blonde hair catching the light as they walked through the dim corridors. She didn't respond immediately, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
"But you're good at this," she muttered begrudgingly after a pause. "Better than most of the idiots in our year. It's just... it's a lot."
Harry gave her a small smile, though he could sense her reluctance to admit even that much. "I get it," he said. "I'll do what I can."
As they walked side by side through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, Daphne shot Harry a glance, her platinum blonde hair catching the flicker of torchlight as they passed. She seemed deep in thought, her frustration from earlier still simmering just beneath the surface, but there was something more now—a quiet reflection, a hesitation.
She stopped abruptly, causing Harry to pause with her. He turned toward her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. There was a brief silence before she spoke, her voice softer than he'd heard it before.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Daphne began, her tone more sincere than frustrated now. "I know I've been short with you, and it's not your fault. I don't blame you, and I don't resent you for needing help." She glanced down at the stone floor, taking a moment before continuing. "The truth is... I don't mind being around you. These past few days, guiding you, spending time with you... it's not as bad as I thought it would be. It's just... the lack of freedom. That's what's so irritating at times."
Harry listened intently, standing still, his expression thoughtful. He could hear the genuine apology in her voice, feel the tension easing between them.
Daphne continued, her bright blue eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. "But, honestly, I know you're going to do great things one day. Despite your blindness, you're better than anyone else in our year at learning spells, at learning in general. You're... talented, and I know that one day, you'll achieve things none of us can even imagine. And when you do..." She hesitated, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. "When you do, just... don't forget about the people who helped you along the way. Don't forget about me."
Harry felt something stir in his chest, warmth filling the silence between them. He offered her a soft, genuine smile. "I could never forget about you, Daphne," he said earnestly. "Honestly... I've been alone for most of my life. I've never had a friend before. And I know we're not friends, I don't have any delusions about that, but... these past few days, this is the closest thing I've ever had to a friendship. So, I could never forget you. Not after this."
Even though Harry couldn't see it, Daphne's face flushed a light pink, her cheeks warming at his words. She bit her lower lip, her eyes darting briefly to the floor as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. For a moment, she looked almost... embarrassed, an expression that was unfamiliar to her usual composed demeanor.
She quickly shook off the feeling, straightening her posture, though the faint blush lingered on her cheeks. "I... I don't know what your childhood was like, but from what little you've said, it sounds like it was very lonely," she murmured, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant to touch on something so personal.
Harry nodded slightly, his smile fading into something more introspective. "It was," he admitted, his tone heavy with the weight of memories. "Extremely lonely. Maybe... maybe one day, if we do become friends, I'll tell you more about it." He tilted his head slightly in her direction, his voice lighter as he added, "And you can tell me about yours."
Daphne's lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. She nodded, her voice soft but warm. "Maybe so, Harry. Maybe so."
Just then, a familiar hiss echoed softly in Harry's mind. You like her, human, Stheno hissed, her voice tinged with amusement. I can feel it.
Harry resisted the urge to respond, his face remaining neutral, though inwardly he felt a slight warmth at the snake's teasing. It's not like that, he thought, though Stheno's quiet chuckle reverberated in his mind.
They continued walking in silence after that, but it wasn't the same silence that had existed between them before. There was a quiet understanding now, a sense of something new forming between them—something more than mere obligation or duty.
Though the path ahead was uncertain, Harry felt a glimmer of hope that, in time, they might truly become friends.
(Scene Break)
The Hogwarts library was a grand, sprawling room, filled with towering shelves that seemed to stretch on forever, packed with books of every size and age. The soft glow of lanterns cast a warm, flickering light across the tables, creating pockets of quiet solitude where students could lose themselves in study. The air carried the faint scent of parchment and ink, and the soft whisper of turning pages was the only sound that broke the silence.
Harry sat at one of the long, wooden tables near the center of the room. His fingers rested on a large open Braille book, though his attention was divided. Beside him, Daphne Greengrass was seated, her posture straight, with a calm focus as she read from her First-Year Charms book. The table was scattered with their materials: wands, books, and the occasional stray parchment. Daphne had been practicing the Levitation Charm for over an hour now, under Harry's guidance.
"Am I doing this right?" Daphne asked, her voice soft but with a hint of impatience. She swished her wand through the air, her tone more questioning than confident as she repeated the incantation, "Wingardium Leviosa."
Harry, who had picked up the charm earlier in class with startling ease, listened to the swish of her wand and the faint vibration of the magic in the air. He smiled, recognizing the progress she had made. "Almost," he said gently. "You're putting a bit too much force in the swish. Try relaxing your wrist a little. The spell's more about intent than movement."
Daphne nodded, though her expression didn't change much. She focused and tried again, the motion of her wand smoother, more deliberate. This time, as she spoke the incantation, the feather on the table in front of them lifted gracefully into the air, floating gently above the table.
"You did it," Harry said with a smile, his tone filled with quiet pride.
Daphne allowed herself a small, satisfied nod as she watched the feather hover, a rare glint of accomplishment in her usually composed demeanor.
Harry reflected on his own experience from earlier in the day. When they had first been taught the spell in class, he had worried that his blindness would make learning magic difficult. How could he understand wand movements he couldn't see? How could he match the precision of others if he couldn't read the instructions as they were traditionally presented?
But Professor Flitwick had reassured him that wand movements were only a tool for beginners—training wheels for those just starting their magical journey. True mastery came from intent and control, things Harry had in abundance. The movements were not the key to magic; the will behind them was. And as Harry practiced, he found spells coming naturally to him, his focus and intent making up for any lack of visual guidance. It had been a surprise, even to him, how quickly he picked it up.
"Harry?" Hermione Granger's voice broke the stillness of the library, her footsteps soft but clear as she approached the table. Her tone was curious, yet cautious, as if she didn't want to intrude on something important. "Am I interrupting?"
Harry turned his head slightly toward her voice, a smile already forming. "Not at all, Hermione," he said warmly, his voice inviting. "Feel free to join us."
Hermione returned the smile, her eyes flickering with curiosity as she glanced between Harry and the girl sitting next to him. As she took a seat across from them, she said, "Thanks. I've been looking for a quiet place to read."
Daphne, her wand still resting on the table from practicing the Levitation Charm, glanced up at Hermione briefly. Her blue eyes were cool, not unfriendly, but reserved. She offered a small, polite nod in greeting before returning her attention to the textbook in front of her, seemingly uninterested in the new arrival.
Harry, sensing the need for introductions, gestured between the two girls. "Hermione, this is Daphne Greengrass. We've been practicing the Levitation Charm together for a while now."
Hermione's expression brightened as she turned to face Daphne more fully, her natural curiosity evident. "It's nice to meet you, Daphne," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that was almost infectious. But there was a trace of hesitation too—unsure how to approach someone as distant as Daphne.
Daphne's response was polite, yet detached, as her gaze briefly met Hermione's. "Likewise," she said simply, her tone cool as ever. With that, her attention shifted back to her book, as though the conversation held little relevance to her.
Harry, ever perceptive, let the moment linger just long enough before shifting the conversation. "So," he began, leaning slightly toward Hermione as if sharing a secret, "how are you finding the classes so far? Got any favorites yet?"
The question lit up Hermione's face, and she leaned forward eagerly, her hands resting on the table. "They're amazing!" she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "I've never learned so much in such a short time! Every class is fascinating in its own way, and there's just so much to take in!"
Harry chuckled at her enthusiasm, nodding as he listened. "Yeah, it's been easier than I thought, honestly," he said, his expression thoughtful. "I was worried I'd struggle a lot more because of... well, my condition." His hand hovered near his eyes, the gesture understated, but clear. "But it turns out, blindness doesn't hold you back much in the wizarding world. Flitwick's been really helpful with the charms work."
Hermione's eyes softened with curiosity and admiration. "How do you manage in Transfiguration?" she asked. "Professor McGonagall can be pretty exact about how things are supposed to look. I'd imagine that must be hard to follow."
Harry nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's tricky sometimes, especially with things like turning the feather into a matchstick. I mean, I have no idea what a matchstick looks like," he admitted, laughing lightly. "But McGonagall lets me focus on the shape instead of the details, and that helps. It's all about intent and control, kind of like Flitwick said. I just... imagine what things are supposed to be."
Hermione looked genuinely impressed, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "That's incredible, Harry. It must take a lot of focus and concentration."
Harry grinned, a mixture of pride and humility in his expression. "It does," he agreed. "But I've had some great help along the way."
As the conversation continued, Harry noticed Daphne's silence. She hadn't said anything in a while, her attention seemingly absorbed by her book. He could sense her deliberate distance, but Harry wasn't the type to let someone sit on the sidelines.
Turning his head slightly in her direction, he spoke with a casual warmth. "Daphne, what about you? How are you finding Hogwarts so far?"
There was a brief pause before Daphne looked up, her expression calm, though she was clearly reluctant to engage. "It's... different than I expected," she said quietly, her voice as measured as ever. "There's a lot to learn."
Harry smiled, sensing the understatement in her words. "Yeah, it's been a lot to take in," he agreed, his tone encouraging.
Sensing an opportunity to include Daphne, Hermione added with a friendly smile, "I agree. It's all so new. But I think we'll figure it out together, right? There's still so much to discover."
Daphne's demeanor softened, if only slightly, as she gave a small nod. "Yes, there is," she said, her tone distant but not unfriendly.
As the conversation moved forward, the three of them found a tentative rhythm. While Hermione's enthusiasm and Harry's natural charm dominated much of the dialogue, Daphne remained a quieter presence. But gradually, under Harry's gentle encouragement and Hermione's genuine interest, she began to contribute more to the conversation.
They spoke of Hogwarts—its grand, ancient halls and the mysteries it held. They discussed the magical creatures they had learned about and speculated on the ones they hadn't yet encountered. Though Daphne's responses were brief, the way she listened intently showed her growing interest.
And in the heart of the quiet library, surrounded by towering shelves of knowledge and the soft flicker of lantern light, the three students—each from different backgrounds, each with their own secrets—found a moment of connection.
Though their paths were different, for now, they were united by the same awe and curiosity that had drawn them to the magical world.
The conversation drifted for a few moments, filled with soft exchanges about Hogwarts, the subjects they were learning, and the professors that kept them on their toes. Hermione, ever the inquisitive one, eventually leaned closer to Harry, her curiosity piqued by something she had clearly been holding back.
"Harry," she began, her tone careful but eager, "have you had the chance to look over more of your family history? I remember you mentioning something about it earlier, how Gringotts has been sending you information."
Harry's expression brightened at the question, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice warming with a hint of excitement. "It's fascinating, actually. The goblins at Gringotts have records going back over 300 years—stuff they've been keeping for the Potters. I've been going through it all, bit by bit."
Hermione's eyes widened with interest. "That's incredible! Have you learned anything surprising?"
Harry nodded, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting on the edge of the table. "A lot, actually. Did you know that the Potters used to have close affiliations with Griffins? Apparently, we used to care for them centuries ago."
"Griffins?" Hermione echoed, her voice filled with awe.
Harry grinned. "Yeah. I didn't even know much about them until I started reading, but they're these majestic creatures—half eagle, half lion. They were fierce protectors, and the Potters were some of the last families to keep them. Most of the creatures were hunted down by wizards over the years, but there are legends that a few might still exist in secret."
Hermione's face was alight with intrigue, and even Daphne, who had remained quietly detached for much of the conversation, seemed to stir at the mention of magical creatures. Her gaze shifted to Harry, clearly interested, though she said nothing.
Harry sighed lightly, his smile fading slightly as his thoughts drifted. "Of course, learning all the history has been the easy part. If only understanding the Potter family accounts was as simple."
That caught Daphne's attention. Her eyes flicked up from her book, curiosity sharp in her gaze. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone measured but clearly intrigued.
Harry tilted his head slightly toward her, considering how best to explain. "The accounts have been a mess since my parents died. There was no one to take care of them, and Gringotts kept everything safe, but..." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "When I found out I was a wizard, I also learned about the responsibilities that come with it. Managing the accounts is... complicated. There's a lot to fix."
Daphne, always composed but with a sharp mind for details, leaned slightly forward. "Gringotts didn't help with the management while you were... away?" she asked, her interest now fully piqued.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. The goblins kept everything secure, but they didn't actively manage it. So, when I found out about it, I had to start learning—investments, properties, taxes. It's a lot. I've been trying to sort through it all ever since."
Hermione frowned slightly, concern in her eyes. "That sounds overwhelming, Harry. Isn't there someone who could help?"
Harry chuckled softly. "I've been asking the goblins for help, but they don't exactly explain things the way we do. It's been a lot of trial and error. But I'll figure it out."
Daphne's expression remained thoughtful, and for a moment, her usual distance seemed to soften. "It's... unusual to have to manage something like that at your age. Most wizards don't deal with financial matters until they're much older," she remarked. "But it sounds like you're handling it."
Harry shrugged modestly. "I'm doing my best. It's been a learning curve."
Hermione nodded, admiration in her eyes. "It sounds like you're doing an amazing job, Harry. I mean, learning all of that on top of school? It's impressive."
Harry offered a small smile, grateful for the encouragement, but there was a weight in his voice when he replied. "Thanks. It's just... it's a lot to live up to, you know? There's all this history, all these expectations. Sometimes I feel like I'm just trying to keep up."
Daphne remained quiet, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her gaze. Though she didn't voice it, she understood the pressure of expectations—both spoken and unspoken—and how heavy they could feel.
The conversation paused for a moment, the three of them sitting in comfortable silence, the sounds of the library surrounding them. The flicker of lanterns cast soft, warm light over their table, and for a brief moment, the weight of their responsibilities seemed a little lighter as they shared in each other's company.
As the evening wore on and the library slowly emptied of students, Harry, Hermione, and Daphne gathered their things. The quiet energy of the day's study still lingered, but the fatigue of the long day was beginning to settle over them.
"I think we should head back," Hermione said, glancing at the clock on the far wall. "It's getting late."
Harry nodded in agreement, rising from his seat and feeling for his cane as he prepared to leave. Daphne had already neatly stacked her books, her movements efficient and deliberate, as always.
"It was nice studying with you," Harry said warmly, turning his head slightly toward Daphne and Hermione.
Hermione smiled, adjusting the strap of her book bag. "Definitely. We should do it again sometime soon."
Daphne gave a small nod. "Yes, maybe."
They walked together down the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, their voices lowered to respectful murmurs as they navigated the winding passages back to their respective dorms. As they reached a fork in the hallway, Hermione waved goodnight and headed off toward Ravenclaw tower, leaving Harry and Daphne alone.
"Well, goodnight," Daphne said, her voice as cool as ever, though there was a trace of something softer beneath it.
"Goodnight," Harry replied, offering her a smile before they parted ways.
Harry continued through the dim corridors, the quiet echo of his footsteps and the familiar sounds of Hogwarts all around him. He made his way down to the Slytherin dormitories, feeling the chill of the stone walls as he approached the entrance. After murmuring the password, he entered the common room and made his way to the boys' dorms.
Once inside, Harry found his way to his shared room, quietly opening the door so as not to disturb his roommate, Blaise Zabini, who was already lying in bed reading by wandlight. Without a word, Harry walked to his bed and pulled the curtains around it for privacy. The curtains, enchanted with a sound-muffling charm, blocked out the soft murmurs of the room, creating a small, silent haven.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed and reached up to rub his wrist. Stheno, who had been coiled around his arm all day, slowly slithered out from under his sleeve and onto the bed, her dark scales gleaming faintly in the low light.
The snake stretched and uncoiled herself before speaking in a soft, telepathic whisper, "It was a long day, human."
Harry smiled at the familiar sound of Stheno's voice in his mind. "It was," he agreed, lying back on the bed as Stheno slithered up to rest near his head.
There was a moment of comfortable silence between them before Stheno spoke again. "You think often about the future."
Harry's smile faded slightly as his thoughts drifted. "Yeah," he admitted, his tone more serious now. "There's so much I need to do—so much I want to achieve."
"Restoring your family?" Stheno asked, her voice filled with quiet curiosity.
Harry nodded, his hand idly tracing the pattern of his sheets. "The Potters were once one of the most influential families in the wizarding world," he said, his voice filled with ambition. "I want to bring that back. I'm going to carve our name into the history books again—make sure that the world never forgets us."
Stheno's voice curled through his thoughts, "And what about your blindness?"
Harry's expression grew more determined. "I'll find a way," he said, the conviction clear in his voice. "There has to be a way to make it more manageable—maybe even turn it into an advantage. I won't let it hold me back. I can't."
"You are ambitious, human," Stheno remarked, a trace of admiration in her tone. "That will serve you well."
Harry smiled faintly, his thoughts heavy but filled with a sense of purpose. "I'm going to be a wizard unlike any other," he said softly, more to himself than to Stheno. "I'll make sure of it."
For a while, they lay in silence, the only sound being the faint rustle of Stheno's movements as she settled comfortably on the bed. Harry's mind, however, was still alive with thoughts of the future—the challenges ahead, the power he needed to unlock, and the legacy he was determined to rebuild.
Eventually, his thoughts quieted, and the weight of the day's events pulled him toward sleep. Stheno, sensing his weariness, whispered a final thought into his mind. "Sleep, Harry. Tomorrow is another day for us to shape."
With that, Harry closed his eyes, the sound-muffling charm of the curtains creating a peaceful, silent cocoon around him. The world outside faded away, leaving only the soft presence of Stheno by his side as he drifted off into sleep, already dreaming of the future that awaited him.
(Scene Break)
The Slytherin common room was as dimly lit as ever, a place of quiet shadows and low murmurs where ambition and cunning thrived. The greenish glow from the windows that looked out into the depths of the Black Lake gave the room an eerie, otherworldly feel, casting flickers of light across the faces of students gathered in clusters.
Harry sat in one of the corner chairs, his fingers running lightly over the raised lines of a Braille book. He appeared calm, focused on the text beneath his hands, but there was an awareness to him—an alertness that came from years of being hyper-aware of his surroundings. Even without sight, Harry always knew who was watching, who was nearby, and most importantly, who was waiting to strike.
And today, that person was Draco Malfoy.
From across the room, Harry could feel Draco's presence like an itch he couldn't quite reach. Malfoy had been circling him for days, ever since Harry's impressive performance in their first-year classes. Draco, like most of Slytherin, was aware of Harry's rapid rise, but where others were wary or quietly impressed, Draco was envious. Harry's blindness, something Draco had thought would be a weakness, had turned out to be anything but.
Harry could hear the soft scuffle of Draco's shoes on the stone floor as he approached, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Harry's lips—he knew what was coming.
"Well, well, if it isn't Potter," Draco's drawling voice sliced through the low hum of conversation. The room seemed to quiet just slightly, students on the periphery tuning in to the tension. "How's it feel being famous and completely useless at the same time?"
Harry didn't look up from his book, his fingers continuing their steady movement across the page. He remained outwardly calm, his face betraying no hint of irritation. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate breath, allowing the familiar weight of Stheno to press lightly against his wrist beneath his sleeve. She was always there, ready to guide him, and in moments like these, her presence was comforting.
"He tries too hard," Stheno hissed softly in Harry's mind, her tone dripping with amusement. "Pathetic."
Harry nearly smiled at the snake's cutting observation but kept his focus on Malfoy. He could feel the weight of Draco's gaze, the anticipation hanging in the air. Malfoy wanted a reaction, something to poke at, to prove that Harry was fragile or easily provoked. But Harry wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.
Without raising his head, Harry replied, his voice calm and measured. "Useless? That's a curious word, Malfoy. But I suppose I wouldn't expect you to understand the value of subtlety. It's something you lack."
There was a pause, a beat in the conversation where Harry could practically hear Draco's sneer faltering for a second. He knew Malfoy didn't expect Harry to be this sharp, this quick.
Draco's eyes narrowed, and the flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. "Subtlety?" he repeated, his voice taking on an edge. "What would you know about subtlety, Potter? You can't even see."
That comment, meant to sting, settled over the room like a cold gust of wind. A few students shifted uncomfortably, the cruelty in Draco's words unmistakable. Harry felt the tension rise, but he remained unfazed, his mind already working through the best way to respond.
Daphne Greengrass, sitting a few seats away, felt her stomach tighten at Draco's words. Her blue eyes flickered briefly between Harry and Draco, the cold malice in Draco's voice leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She'd always known Draco had a mean streak, but this felt too far, even for him.
She wasn't one to openly interfere—especially not with someone like Draco Malfoy, who had connections and influence within Slytherin. Yet, there was something about his mockery of Harry that bothered her deeply. Daphne prided herself on control, on being careful and calculating. But Draco's behavior felt reckless, petty, and needlessly cruel. She kept her expression neutral, though her fingers tightened on the edges of her book.
Harry, on the other hand, wasn't rattled. He tilted his head slightly in Draco's direction, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're right, I can't see," Harry said softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to fill the room. "But I've noticed something about people like you, Malfoy."
Draco frowned, sensing that he was walking into something but too prideful to back down now. "People like me?" he repeated, trying to sound dismissive but failing to mask the uncertainty creeping into his tone.
Harry nodded, finally turning his head slightly toward Draco, though his unfocused eyes remained still. "Yes. People like you who rely so heavily on appearances. You think that because I can't see, I'm somehow weaker, or less capable. But you know what? I don't need sight to recognize fear when I hear it."
There was a sharp intake of breath from someone nearby, but Harry continued, his voice steady. "You're afraid, Malfoy. Afraid that for all your arrogance and posturing, someone like me—someone you think is lesser—might actually be better than you. And that terrifies you, doesn't it?"
The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Draco's response.
Malfoy's face had turned a deep shade of red, his fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth, but no quick retort came to him. His usual confidence faltered, replaced by a frustration he couldn't quite mask.
Daphne, though silent, found herself almost admiring Harry's composure. She knew how to play the political game in Slytherin, how to navigate its undercurrents, and Harry's ability to stay calm under pressure was something she hadn't expected. It was... impressive. But she remained still, conflicted. Loyalty to Slytherin and its hierarchy was important, but Draco's cruelty toward Harry felt beneath even their house's standards.
Stheno, sensing Draco's discomfort, slithered softly in Harry's mind. "He is weak, this one. All talk. No bite."
Harry leaned back in his chair, his expression remaining composed as he addressed Draco once more. "You can keep trying, Malfoy, but here's the truth—you can't get to me. And if you're trying to prove something to the rest of Slytherin, you're doing a poor job of it."
Draco, seething, shot Harry a glare so intense that even without seeing it, Harry could feel its heat. Without another word, Draco turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the common room, his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, trailing after him like confused, lumbering shadows.
As the tension in the room eased, the quiet murmurs of conversation slowly resumed. Harry turned his attention back to his book, his fingers finding the familiar Braille once more.
Daphne sat quietly for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling. She knew for her own good, she should support Draco—at least, that's what would be expected in Slytherin. But Harry had handled himself with grace and intellect, traits she respected. For now, she decided not to get involved, but a small part of her couldn't help but feel that Harry Potter was someone worth watching, someone who didn't fit neatly into any box.
As the common room settled, Harry's mind remained sharp, Stheno's voice lingering in his thoughts. "You handled him well, human. Better than most."
Harry smiled faintly, his fingers continuing their gentle glide over the book's pages. "It's not hard when you know what someone's afraid of," he murmured in response.
And so, the evening went on, but in the quiet shadows of the common room, a subtle shift had taken place—one that even Draco Malfoy, in his anger, had yet to fully understand.
The common room had settled back into its usual rhythm, the earlier tension dissipating as conversations resumed and students returned to their own tasks. Harry remained seated, his focus once again on his book, though his mind was still turning over the confrontation with Draco. He felt the subtle shifts in the air around him, the soft sounds of feet on stone, and the weight of someone approaching.
Daphne Greengrass, ever composed, moved quietly and purposefully toward him, her expression unreadable as always. She stopped beside his chair for a moment before gracefully sitting down next to him. The cool distance that usually defined her demeanor remained, but there was something different in the way she now regarded him—an unspoken acknowledgment of what had just transpired.
"You handled that very well," she said, her voice low and measured, as though weighing every word carefully. "Especially for someone who's only just come to know the wizarding world."
Harry turned his head slightly toward her, sensing the faintest hint of approval in her tone. "Thanks," he said, his voice steady but thoughtful. "I've had some practice with people like Malfoy... even before I knew I was a wizard."
Daphne studied him for a moment, her eyes flickering with a rare trace of something that might have been amusement. "You should know, though," she continued, her tone softening ever so slightly, "in Slytherin, Draco has a lot of power. Or rather, his father does. And Draco uses that to his advantage. You need to be careful."
Harry tilted his head, considering her words. "So, he's just hiding behind his father's power? Sounds like a coward to me."
A faint smirk crossed Daphne's lips, though she quickly suppressed it, her expression returning to its usual cool detachment. She found Harry's remark humorous but maintained her facade of the aloof, controlled Slytherin ice queen. "Perhaps," she said, her tone giving nothing away.
Harry smiled at her, grateful for the insight. "Thanks for the information, though. It's nice to know. But Draco Malfoy is nothing more than a weasel to me. I won't back down from a fight with him, no matter what his father's influence is."
Daphne's smirk softened into the briefest hint of a smile. There was something about Harry's confidence—his refusal to be intimidated—that intrigued her. But, as always, she kept her true thoughts to herself. She stood gracefully, adjusting her robes with the same calm precision she always had. "Just be careful, Harry," she said quietly. "Slytherin politics run deep."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied, his tone thoughtful but unwavering.
With a final glance, Daphne turned and made her way out of the common room, her presence as fleeting and enigmatic as always. Harry watched her go, his mind churning with new thoughts. The day had already revealed more to him about the complexities of Slytherin than he had anticipated. The politics, the power dynamics—it was all deeper than he had initially realized.
And now, he understood why Daphne had been hesitant to be his guide. She didn't want to get caught in the crossfire of whatever tension might arise between him and Draco. Slytherin wasn't just a house of ambition and cunning; it was a carefully balanced web of alliances and rivalries. He couldn't let her be put in harm's way because of him.
Harry sighed softly, feeling the weight of the day pressing on him. He leaned back in his chair, and as his hand brushed over his wrist, Stheno slithered out, her smooth scales gliding over his skin as she moved onto his lap.
"She's right, you know," Stheno hissed quietly in his mind, her voice laced with a sly wisdom. "The politics here are dangerous, and you are a target now."
Harry nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "I see that now. I didn't realize how much deeper it went."
Stheno's tongue flicked the air as she coiled comfortably on the edge of his robes. "You will need to be careful, human. But you are not alone. I can guide you."
Harry tilted his head, his mind already turning toward a solution. "Stheno," he began slowly, "how well do you think you can guide me through the castle? Without anyone else?"
The snake's presence in his mind was strong and sure. "Very well, human. I know the paths and the movements of those who walk them. I can lead you anywhere you need to go."
Harry's lips curved into a small, determined smile. "Good," he whispered. "Because we're going to see Dumbledore."
With that decision made, Harry felt a sense of resolution settle over him. He couldn't put Daphne in a position where she might suffer because of him. The politics of Slytherin were already complicated enough, and he had no intention of letting her become a target.
He would find his own way, with Stheno's help. And if anyone—Draco Malfoy or otherwise—thought they could stop him, they would find out just how wrong they were.
As the soft glow of the common room flickered around him, Harry stood, his resolve firm. Today had been enlightening in more ways than one. And tomorrow... tomorrow he would take the next step in ensuring that his future in the wizarding world was his to shape.
With Stheno's guidance, he slipped quietly out of the common room, heading toward the Headmaster's office, the path ahead filled with possibilities and challenges he was ready to face.
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