With Draco absent from the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Umbridge, Daphne hadn't expected to see him in Potions, let alone for him to choose the seat beside her. She was in the middle of setting her cauldron over a portable flame, adjusting the height to ensure the fire wouldn't scorch the base, when Draco slid into the seat next to her.
He set his own cauldron down with a quiet clatter, and after a moment, nudged her arm lightly. "Move over a bit, would you?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of impatience.
Daphne obliged, shifting her cauldron slightly to give him more space. As she did, she glanced at him, curiosity getting the better of her. "Where have you been?"
"Our head of House wanted a private meeting with me," Draco grumbled, shooting a furtive glance at Snape, who was writing on the board. "He wanted to know what 'side' I'm on."
"What did you tell him?" Daphne asked, her voice low.
"I lied, obviously," Draco said, his tone edged with frustration. "He's a loyal Death Eater; I'm not about to tell him the truth."
"I'm fairly sure he's not," Daphne said soothingly, "He had plenty of time to kill Harry last year, and he didn't."
Draco's eyes flashed with anger. "He practically spent the entire summer at my house, bowing and scraping at the Dark Lord's feet," he spat. "He's playing everyone for fools. He was probably one of the masked Death Eaters who attacked me at the World Cup!"
"Why would he try and figure out what side you were on then?" Daphne asked reasonably, "He'd know already, wouldn't he?"
Draco's expression faltered for a moment, as if Daphne's words were slowly sinking in, but then his face hardened again. "Maybe he's testing me," he muttered, his voice laced with uncertainty that he quickly masked with anger. "Or maybe he's trying to catch me out, to make sure I'm still loyal. The Dark Lord rewards loyalty, but he also punishes betrayal. Snape would know that better than anyone."
"But if Snape were really that close to the Dark Lord, wouldn't he have no reason to doubt you? He wouldn't need to play games to figure out your loyalties."
Draco ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more frantic than he intended. "I don't know," he admitted, frustration creeping into his tone. "Everything's changed since the Dark Lord came back. People aren't who they used to be. My father was always so sure of Snape, but now my father's bending over backwards to appease the Dark Lord."
Daphne watched him closely, her own doubts beginning to grow. "Do you really think Snape would go against Dumbledore openly now, after all these years?"
"Maybe… maybe he was just waiting for the right moment." Draco hesitated, caught between what he wanted to believe and the growing paranoia gnawing at him. "Or maybe he's always been on the Dark Lord's side, but was too scared of Dumbledore to act on it."
At Draco's ominous words, Daphne shivered, but not from the chill of the dungeon. His paranoia gnawed at the edges of her own thoughts, planting a seed of doubt that took root despite herself.
As much as she had always unconditionally trusted her Potions professor, she couldn't help thinking Draco had a point. The idea that Snape had been waiting all this time, biding his time until the Dark Lord's return, made a disturbing kind of sense.
It would have been madness for Snape to openly oppose Harry while relying on Dumbledore's protection, she reasoned, her mind spinning in circles.
Daphne's gaze drifted to Snape, who had finished scribbling on the blackboard and was now glaring at his gathered students, not even bothering to hide his expression of disdain.
With Voldemort back, everything had changed, the old rules no longer applied. What if Snape could now act openly, knowing he could retreat to the safety of his master's wand the moment things went wrong?
Her stomach churned at the thought, a growing unease settling over her like a thick fog. And as much as she wanted to reassure herself that Snape was still on their side, the certainty she had always felt was slipping away, piece by piece.
As Snape began to lecture about the importance of their upcoming OWL exams, Daphne's mind wandered. His words about precision and accuracy in potion-making seemed to drift past her, barely registering. The carefully measured ingredients, the exacting procedures—all of it felt distant and irrelevant in the face of her mounting doubts.
"Miss Greengrass," Snape's sharp voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. "I trust you are paying attention. The OWLs are not something you can afford to take lightly."
Daphne nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Yes, Professor."
"Good," he said, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of irritation and something else, perhaps disappointment. "You may start preparing the Draught of Peace. Remember, precision is key."
As she moved to gather her ingredients, Daphne couldn't shake the feeling that Snape's eyes were still on her, judging her not just as a student but as someone who might be a threat to his cover. Her hands trembled slightly as she measured out her ingredients, and she found herself double-checking each step, trying to distract herself from the unease that had settled so heavily in her chest.
For once, she was relieved that Draco was nearly as skilled at potions as she was. More than once, he had had to step in to help save her potion.
"Merlin, Greengrass," Draco muttered, his voice a mix of annoyance and reluctant concern. "If I'd known you'd become such a mess, I'd have kept my mouth shut." He reached over and halted her just in time, preventing her from adding the porcupine quills too early, a mistake she would normally never make.
Daphne flushed with embarrassment, quickly retracting her hand and taking the cauldron off the fire. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I'm just a bit distracted today."
Draco's expression softened slightly, though he tried to hide it with a scowl. "Well, try to pull yourself together. We're not here for a social visit, you know."
She could only nod, her mind still racing as she refocused on the potion. The familiar task of potion-making provided a small comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts, but even this routine could not entirely dispel the creeping sense of dread she felt. She glanced at Snape again, who was now occupied with his favourite pastime—mocking Neville.
The poor boy had entered class with his eyes badly swollen, turning his usual lacklustre performance into a genuine threat to everyone around him. Snape had only just managed to vanish Neville's potion before it erupted, while Neville, panicking, had been scrambling to clean up the remnants of his attempt at powdering his moonstone.
Daphne focused intently on her own work, hoping to avoid similar embarrassment. Despite her best efforts, when Snape finally inspected her potion, he awarded it only an E. His eyebrow arched in that questioning way she had come to dread, as if silently challenging her competence.
Her stomach twisted under his scrutiny. Daphne forced herself to maintain a neutral expression as she nodded, muttering a polite "Thank you, Professor," before quickly turning away. She packed up her things with a hurried precision, the weight of his gaze still heavy on her back.
The moment her supplies were stowed, she seized the chance to escape, making a beeline for the door. She didn't slow down until she reached the Great Hall, where she sat down heavily, staring at the food before her without really seeing it.
"I take it Potions with Draco didn't go well, Greengrass?" Theodore Nott asked, sliding into the seat across from her with his usual nonchalance.
"What?" Daphne blinked, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Snape and Draco.
"I saw the way he kept whispering things at you," Nott continued, his tone knowing but uncaring. "Enough to throw anyone off their game. What, did he tell you your boyfriend got squashed by a giant or something?"
"What?!" Daphne repeated, this time snapping out of her daze to give him her full attention. Nott smirked, clearly pleased to have disrupted her distracted state.
"Relax, Greengrass. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"What was that about Harry being squashed by a troll?" she demanded, her voice sharp with worry.
"So, you admit he's your boyfriend then?" Nott teased, leaning back with a grin.
"Shut up and answer my question," she insisted, her eyes flashing with anger, catching Nott off guard.
"Geez, chill out," Nott said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I just know there's a certain rumour, amongst certain parents, that a certain classmate is having an extended 'holiday' hunting giants." Nott replied in a clandestine tone.
Daphne's mind raced, connecting the dots. Of course, if anyone would be reckless enough to go after giants, it would be Harry. But why hadn't she heard anything about this until now? And why were the parents talking about it and not the students?
Nott watched her closely, his smirk fading into something more curious. "You didn't know, did you?"
"No," Daphne muttered, her appetite for lunch completely gone. "I didn't."
Nott shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Well, I guess it's not really surprising. Potter's always in the middle of something dangerous. But if I were you, I wouldn't worry too much. He always finds a way out, doesn't he?"
Daphne didn't respond, her thoughts already drifting to the implications. If Harry was really out there hunting giants, that meant he was already facing the kind of dangers they all feared. And here she was, fretting over Snape, and Draco's paranoia. Compared to whatever Harry was up to, her worries seemed almost trivial.
She pushed her plate away and stood up abruptly. "I need some air."
Nott watched her leave, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Sure, Greengrass," he said quietly to himself, "go figure it out."
As Daphne walked out of the Great Hall, she couldn't shake the feeling that everything was starting to spiral out of control.
Entering the Divination classroom somewhat late, Daphne was grateful Professor Trelawney merely blinked at her as Daphne took a seat beside Ron.
"You can't sit here!" Ron hissed, looking mortally offended at her presence.
"Shut up," She hissed back, "I want to talk about Harry."
"My dears, just a moment more of your attention, please." Professor Trelawney interrupted, walking up to their table. "I was just telling the class, Ms. Greengrass, that Dream Interpretation is a most important means of divining the future, and one that may very well be tested in your O.W.L. examinations."
"Right, thank you, Professor." Daphne replied, smiling weakly.
"You are very welcome, my dear. I knew of course that you would be delayed in joining us." Trelawney finished, smiling back as she moved back to the front of the class, gesturing dramatically as she spoke about the significance of recurring symbols in dreams.
Ron frowned, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but Daphne could see the flicker of concern in his eyes at the mention of Harry. He glanced quickly at Trelawney, checking she wouldn't come back, before leaning slightly closer so the other students wouldn't overhear.
"What about Harry?" Ron muttered under his breath.
"Is it true that Harry is off hunting giants?" Daphne whispered urgently.
Ron's expression shifted from irritation to surprise, then quickly to something more guarded. "Who told you that?"
"Nott mentioned it, said it was something his father was talking about," Daphne replied, keeping her voice low. "Is it true?"
Ron hesitated, his eyes darting around the room to ensure no one else was listening. "Harry's… away, yeah. But it's not like what Nott probably made it sound like."
Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Then what is it? Why would Harry be involved?"
"Look, we're not supposed to know," Ron insisted, lowering his voice further. "But over the summer, we were staying with some of Dumbledore's people. They wouldn't let us sit in on their meetings, but Fred and George used their Extendable Ears and overheard some things. Dumbledore's worried that You-Know-Who is trying to enlist the giants, so he sent Hagrid and that Madame Maxime woman to go negotiate with them."
Daphne bit her lip, frustration bubbling up. "But why is Harry with them? He doesn't have anything to do with giants."
"Shh!" Ron cut her off, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Listen, Dumbledore gave Hagrid some gifts for the giants, but Harry thought they were… Well, rubbish. So he went along to make sure they had something better to offer."
"Is that safe, though?" Daphne worried.
Ron rolled his eyes, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Of course it's safe, it's Harry! If a giant basilisk or a dragon couldn't finish him off, a few giants will be a laugh for him."
Daphne frowned, not entirely reassured by Ron's confidence. She wanted to believe him—believe that Harry would somehow come out of this unscathed, just as he always did—but the thought of giants still made her uneasy. Sighing, she decided to let it go for now and turned her attention back to the class.
As Professor Trelawney finally finished her lecture, she waved her hand dramatically. "Now, my dears, it is time for you to delve into your own subconscious. Write down your most recent dreams, and we shall see what secrets the future holds for each of you."
Daphne stared at her parchment, the nib of her quill hovering above it. She hadn't been paying attention to Trelawney's ramblings, but she knew she had to write something. Sighing, she began to jot down the fragments of a dream she could barely remember, not really thinking about the words.
She glanced at Ron, who was now lazily doodling on the corner of his parchment, clearly unconcerned by anything Trelawney had to say. For a moment, she envied his ability to brush off these fears, to treat this as just another day at Hogwarts.
With a sigh, she forced herself to focus on the rest of the assignment, hoping that burying herself in the work might distract her from the creeping sense of doom that seemed to be inching closer with each passing moment.
"How did Nott know, anyway?" Ron mused out of the blue.
"Know what?" Daphne asked, distracted.
"Well you said his father told him, about Harry, you know." Ron prompted, "But how would his father know?"
"Oh, his father is a Death Eater." Daphne replied easily, "Given you said Dumbledore was worried about what You-Know-Who might enlist the giants, there were probably a few Death Eaters there too. Then Theo overheard his father talking or something. He did say it was only a rumour."
"And what, those Death Eaters saw Harry, gave him a polite nod, and continued on their way?" Ron asked, incredulously.
Daphne blinked, her quill pausing mid-sentence as Ron's words sank in. The casualness with which she had mentioned Nott's father now felt like a glaring mistake.
She bit her lip, her mind racing to catch up. How did Nott's father know? The idea that Death Eaters could have crossed paths with Harry without some sort of confrontation seemed absurd. But if they had encountered him and Harry was still out there, then what had really happened?
"That… doesn't make sense," she murmured, her brow furrowing as she looked back at Ron.
"Yeah, exactly," Ron agreed, leaning in a bit closer, his voice now laced with growing excitement. "If Harry was spotted by Death Eaters, why didn't they try to capture him or something?"
"A spy then? One of Dumbledore's people who knew Harry had gone to the giants, and would go and tell You-Know-Who?" Daphne tried instead.
"I bet it was Snape!" Ron hissed, his face twisting in anger. "The slimy git kept taunting Sirius about how he wasn't doing anything important, like he was rubbing it in. What if Snape was just pretending to help Dumbledore, but really, he's been feeding information to You-Know-Who all along?"
"Snape was with you over the Summer?"
"Yeah, he's a member of the Order… Erm, that's the name of Dumbledore's group, don't let anyone know I told you," Ron added hastily.
Daphne's heart skipped a beat. Ron's theory echoed Draco's earlier suspicions, and though she wanted to dismiss it as paranoia, the coincidence was hard to ignore.
"That would mean Harry's in even more danger than we thought," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "If Snape's playing both sides, who knows what else he's been telling them."
Ron's expression hardened. "We can't trust him. I don't care what Dumbledore says, Snape's up to something."
Daphne couldn't shake the image of Snape, his cold eyes always calculating, always one step ahead. If he really was a spy for Voldemort, what chance did any of them have?
"We've got to tell Dumbledore!" Daphne said urgently, leaning in closer to Ron.
Ron nodded, though his expression was still conflicted. "Yeah, but we have to be careful. If Snape's really a spy, he might have already figured out what we're thinking. We can't let him know we're onto him."
"I'll try to speak to Dumbledore during the next lesson," Daphne whispered. "That way Snape will be busy teaching and won't be able to intervene. But what if I can't get to him? Should I try messaging Harry?"
Ron frowned, considering their limited options. "Maybe we should talk to Sirius," he suggested. "He'd never let Snape know what we were doing, and he might have answers. Plus, he's just as suspicious of Snape as we are."
Each tick of the clock seemed agonisingly slow, and she barely registered the murmurs of her classmates as they worked on their dream interpretations.
Finally, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signalled the end of the class. Daphne was on her feet before Professor Trelawney had even dismissed them, her bag hastily slung over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the door.
"Ms. Greengrass, dear, a moment if you please," Professor Trelawney's airy voice floated after her, halting her escape. Daphne turned to see the professor gliding towards her, her large, misty eyes wide with what appeared to be concern.
Daphne froze, cursing her luck, but quickly composed herself. She turned, forcing a polite smile. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I've got something urgent to take care of. I'll come back later, I promise."
Trelawney blinked in surprise, her large, magnified eyes searching Daphne's face. "My dear, the threads of fate are delicate… Ah, well… if it is truly pressing, I suppose the stars will align again for us another time… But do not neglect the importance of your inner eye, Ms. Greengrass!"
"Of course, Professor," Daphne replied quickly, already backing out of the room. "I won't forget."
For a moment, Trelawney looked as if she might insist, but then she faltered, her gaze flickering between Daphne and the now-empty classroom. "Very well, my dear… but do be careful. The signs… they are not always kind."
Daphne forced a tight smile. "I will. Thank you, Professor."
Before Trelawney could say another word— he would've leapt from a window and glided to the ground as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She'd hated it when taken her with him like that, but now, in her frantic rush, she cursed every single stair she had to descend.
She wished Harry was here, for his willingness to leap out the window and simply glide to the ground. She'd hated it at the time, but now when she was in such a hurry, she cursed each and every stair although the way.
Reaching the bottom of the tower, she burst into the courtyard, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she sprinted across the stone path. The cool air stung her cheeks, but she didn't slow down. She pushed herself harder, her mind racing with what she needed to tell Dumbledore, and the possible consequences if she didn't.
As she finally reached the entrance to the west tower, the reality of what she was about to do hit her like a wave. She hesitated for the briefest moment, her chest tightening as she gazed up at the tower looming before her. But there was no time to second-guess herself—Harry's life, and perhaps many others, could depend on this.
She forced her legs to keep moving, the climb up to Dumbledore's office feeling even steeper and more exhausting than the descent she had just made. By the time she reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance, her legs were trembling with exertion, but she didn't pause.
"Let me in." She gasped out, barely able to catch her breath.
But instead of moving aside, the gargoyle stuck its tongue out at her, blocking her path with a stony, indifferent expression.
"Password?" it mocked.
"Why would I know the password?" She demanded, "Please, it's urgent!"
The gargoyle remained unmoved, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you don't have the password, then it clearly isn't that urgent. Go bother your Head of House."
Daphne clenched her fists, her heart racing. She felt like screaming, but she knew it wouldn't help. There had to be another way. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and looked around, desperate for any sign of someone who might be able to help.
She pulled out the mithril tablet Harry had given her and quickly sent him a message asking if he knew the password to the Headmaster's office, though she doubted he would. The seconds stretched out painfully as she waited, anxiety bubbling up inside her. Unable to stand still, she began to bounce in place, her nerves fraying with every moment of delay.
In a burst of impatience, she decided to take matters into her own hands and attempted to dive around the gargoyle. But to her dismay, not only was the tower behind the guardian empty, but the stone figure easily intercepted her, grabbing her mid-dive and tossing her back.
"Naughty, naughty!" it teased, wagging a finger at her with an almost smug expression.
Daphne landed on her feet, but barely, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. This wasn't going the way she had planned at all.
To her surprise, Harry had replied almost immediately; "Try naming sweets. Are you outside his office now?"
"Yes, I'm here," she quickly sent back, her fingers trembling slightly. Without waiting for his next message, she took a deep breath and began to rattle off the names of every sweet she could think of.
"Chocolate Frogs! Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans! Acid Pops! Sherbet Lemon!"
The gargoyle didn't move, and Daphne's frustration surged, but she tried to keep her cool. "Cockroach Cluster! Sugar Quills! Fizzing Whizzbees!"
Still nothing. She bit her lip, racking her brain for more. The pressure of the moment made it hard to think straight. "Pumpkin Pasties! Jelly Slugs! Treacle Tart!"
Just as Daphne was about to give up, the gargoyle suddenly sprang to life, revealing a staircase lowering behind it. She barely had time to react before Dumbledore himself descended the stairs, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern.
"Miss Greengrass," he greeted with a kind but measured tone. "Harry mentioned you might be in need of urgent assistance."
"Yes, Professor," Daphne gasped, catching her breath in short, sharp bursts. "I've got to speak with you. It's about Snape and Harry. It's really urgent."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Very well, come up to my office. Unless you prefer to discuss it elsewhere?"
"Erm, your office is fine, Headmaster."
"Excellent. Please follow me." Dumbledore began to ascend the golden staircase, gesturing for Daphne to follow. "For future reference, you'll find the password to my office is 'Cozonac'."
Daphne's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Cozonac? What's that?"
"A Romanian sweet bread," Dumbledore explained with a hint of amusement. "It's quite delightful, though I must say, Madame Umbridge has a regretful distaste for it. And indeed she has rejected the many delightful foods on offer from our foreign friends." Dumbledore finished sadly, as he opened the door to his office, motioning for Daphne to enter.
"Now, Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore said, settling behind his desk, "please tell me what's troubling you."
"Professor," Daphne began, her voice regaining it's urgency, "we think Snape might be a spy for Voldemort. I need to tell you everything we know."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, a most grave concern indeed. Please, proceed with your account."
Daphne took a deep breath, steadying herself as she began to recount the troubling events. "It started with Draco Malfoy during Potions class. He is convinced that Professor Snape has always been loyal to You-Know-Who, and has just been biding his time."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the seriousness of her claim. "And why does Mr. Malfoy hold such a belief?"
"Apparently, You-Know-Who spent the Summer at the Malfoy estate, and Snape was seen there too. Draco overheard them talking, and he thinks Snape was pledging his loyalty to Voldemort."
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I see. Did it not occur to either of you that Professor Snape might have been coerced into making such statements or was merely pretending to carry favour with Voldemort?"
Daphne nodded, but pressed on with urgency. "That's possible, but there's more. During lunch, Theodore Nott mentioned that his father, a Death Eater, had overheard a rumour about Harry being involved with giants. Nott implied that he knew Harry's situation."
Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "Indeed. And how does Mr. Weasley's perspective contribute to this?"
"Well, Ron pointed out that if Death Eaters had seen Harry, they would have tried to capture him or at least report back. So, we thought there might be a spy in your group feeding information to Voldemort."
Dumbledore leaned back, his face thoughtful. "And Mr. Weasley suggested that Professor Snape could be that spy?"
"Yes," Daphne confirmed. "Ron thought Snape might be the one giving Voldemort information, especially since Snape had taunted Sirius Black about not doing anything important. That's probably why the Death Eaters seem to know where Harry is and what he's doing."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful and serious. "It seems you have compiled quite a substantial amount of troubling information. Your vigilance and the gravity of your concerns are commendable. Now, I must now ask for your discretion regarding what I am about to reveal."
Daphne nodded earnestly. "Of course, Professor. I'll keep everything we've discussed here strictly between us."
Dumbledore's expression softened slightly in appreciation. "Thank you, Miss Greengrass. Your trust is invaluable."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on hers steadily. "I can understand why you would arrive at such a conclusion, given the circumstances. However, I must reassure you that Severus has my complete confidence. I would not entrust him with such important responsibilities if I had any doubts about his true allegiance."
Daphne's brow furrowed in concern. "But Professor, with all due respect, if Snape is working for Voldemort, then wouldn't he be putting everyone at risk?"
The Headmaster's gaze grew more solemn. "That would be correct. But Severus has proven his loyalty repeatedly, even under the most challenging conditions. There are many layers to this situation, and not everything is as it seems."
He paused, then continued gently. "I appreciate your vigilance and your willingness to bring this matter to my attention. Your concerns are valid, and it is wise to remain cautious. However, I must ask you to trust in my judgement and in the steps I will take to investigate this further."
Daphne's brow furrowed, her anxiety evident. "Then you're absolutely sure Snape hasn't told You-Know-Who where Harry is?"
"Professor Snape, please," Dumbledore said with a hint of reproach. "And yes, I am quite confident that he would not endanger Harry."
Daphne's frustration grew. "But if Snape didn't give away Harry's location, then how did the Death Eaters find out? You can't honestly think that Harry would be seen and not immediately attacked!"
Dumbledore regarded her with a calm, steady gaze. "There are many possibilities, Miss Greengrass. I suspect that Harry might have been spotted from a distance, and by the time the sighting was reported, he had already moved on. It is also possible that while Harry's presence was detected, he managed to avoid direct confrontation."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes reflecting the weight of his thoughts. "What I can assure you is that I will investigate this matter thoroughly. For now, may I inquire about the method of communication you used to contact Harry from so far away?"
Daphne blinked, momentarily taken aback by the shift in focus. "Oh, um, it's a mithril tablet Harry gave me. It allows us to send messages to each other, it's quicker than a regular owl, but it can be difficult to make my messages small enough to fit."
"Ah, ingenious," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I have a similar device, though I suspect it is an older model." He reached into a drawer and produced a simple mithril slate with a flat rock fixed upon it.
He placed the rock on the desk and positioned it so Daphne could read the message engraved: "Dapne cant enter office lease let her in -Hary"
Dumbledore smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Alas, his handwriting can sometimes leave much to be desired, but I find his infrequent messages delightfully illuminating. I shall have to request that he upgrade my own tablet so that I might reply to him more frequently."
"Do… Do you want to use my tablet, Professor?" Daphne offered, feeling compelled to offer the man her treasured device.
Dumbledore's expression softened with appreciation. "While I would be glad for the ability to keep in contact with Harry, I would not wish to deprive you of such a valuable gift. However, if you are not opposed, I would appreciate it if you could pass on a message for me."
Daphne nodded, eager to help. "Of course, Professor. What would you like me to say?"
"Please warn Harry that he has been spotted and that he should be cautious," Dumbledore instructed. "Also, if you could inquire as to why he has not yet returned. It is important we remain informed of his situation."
Nodding, Daphne quickly withdrew her tablet and sent the warning, along with Dumbledore's request. "I've sent the message. I'm not sure if he'll reply immediately, though."
"Thank you, Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore said warmly. "If you wish to stay and await his response, I shall welcome your company. Otherwise, we can reconvene tomorrow, during the first break?"
Daphne considered the offer briefly. "I think I'll wait a bit longer, if that's alright. It feels better to be here rather than waiting elsewhere."
"Certainly," Dumbledore replied with a reassuring smile. "Please make yourself comfortable. I shall quietly consult my parchment. Regrettably, even at my age, I find myself inundated with homework."
Daphne felt a peculiar sense of displacement as she prepared for the meeting. She was acutely aware of the weight of taking charge in Harry's absence. It felt almost sacrilegious to sit in his seat at the head of the table, so she chose a spot slightly to the side, allowing the space to retain some of its familiar feel.
The study room, which Harry had meticulously arranged over the past year, was functional and inviting, which was all she required. Even if the room wasn't as secure as she would've liked.
On the other hand, Harry's workshop would have been ideal: more private and secure. Unfortunately, Daphne had only glimpsed it briefly at the end of last term and had no idea how to access it, or if Harry would have even allowed them to use it.
To her surprise, Luna was already in the study room when Daphne arrived, quietly working on some homework. She looked up in surprise but greeted Daphne warmly.
"Oh, Luna, you got my message then?" Daphne asked.
"Message?" Luna blinked, in confusion, "No, I can't say I received any message. Was it something important?"
Daphne's brow furrowed in concern. "I sent out messages to Harry's closest friends, trying to gather everyone for an important discussion. I suppose something must have gone awry with the delivery."
Luna tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Oh, I see. Well, I'm here now. What's the matter?"
Before Daphne could respond, the door opened and Ron and Neville walked in, chatting casually.
"Heya," Ron greeted, glancing around. "So, what's up? What did Dumbledore say?"
"Hold on, not everyone is here yet," Daphne insisted, motioning for them to take a seat.
"What, are the snakes coming too? I thought Harry told them to clear off?" Ron asked, frowning.
Clenching her jaw at his bluntness, Daphne frowned, "They are, but we are also waiting for Cedric, Draco's bringing him."
Neville, sensing the tension, took a seat and looked between Ron and Daphne. "So, what's the big news?"
Daphne took a deep breath, ready to explain. "I'll fill everyone in once Cedric arrives. For now, let's just be patient and wait for the complete group."
"Why do we need 'Pretty Boy', anyway?" Ron grumbled.
"Who?" Daphne asked, confused.
"You know, Diggory… Fred and George call him that," Ron muttered.
"Why on earth do they call him that?" Daphne pressed.
"Because that's what girls call him, I don't know!" Ron huffed. "He keeps stealing the Snitch in Quidditch."
"I'd hardly call winning 'stealing'," Cedric interjected as he entered the room, closely followed by Crabbe and Draco.
Ron flushed and resolutely avoided looking at Cedric, clearly embarrassed.
Daphne took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "Alright, now that everyone's here, let's get started. I called this meeting because we need to talk about something important—something that could affect all of us."
The room quieted, with everyone's attention focused on her. Even Ron, still a bit red-faced, looked up, his curiosity piqued.
"I spoke with Professor Dumbledore earlier," Daphne began, her voice steady. "There are concerns about Professor Snape. We think he's a spy, for You-Know-Who."
Draco crossed his arms, his expression tense. "Snape's always been a bit too close to You-Know-Who, if you ask me."
Cedric, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "But Dumbledore trusts him, doesn't he? That has to count for something."
Daphne nodded. "It does. But I don't know how seriously Dumbledore is taking our concerns. So, I think we need to keep vigilant, for any suspicious behaviour."
"So what do we do?" Neville asked, his voice a mixture of worry and determination. "Do we just watch him? Or is there something more?"
Daphne looked around the room, making eye contact with each of them. "We need to keep an eye out, but we can't be reckless. If Snape really is loyal to Dumbledore, we don't want to alienate him. But if he's not…" She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Luna, who had been quietly observing, added in her soft, dreamy tone, "Maybe we could find a way to test him, to see where his true loyalties lie without him knowing we're watching."
Ron frowned, but didn't argue, clearly deep in thought. "So, we're supposed to play spy on a spy?"
"No, we don't." Cedric replied firmly, "Listen, I get you are all concerned, but if this is serious, then you are better off keeping yourself clean. If he is a spy, then none of you will be able to tell anyway. Regardless, he's here at Hogwarts, he won't have access to much information anyway, no more than the Death Eater's children."
Neville nodded thoughtfully at Cedric's words. "He's right. If Snape is really a spy, he's probably skilled enough to keep his actions hidden. And if he's loyal to Dumbledore, we risk ruining that relationship by making him suspicious of us."
Cedric leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Exactly. We need to focus on what we can control—our own actions, and making sure we don't give away anything important. If something doesn't feel right, we report it to Dumbledore or McGonagall, but we don't start a witch hunt."
Ron shifted in his seat, uneasily. "So, we're just supposed to sit tight and wait?"
"Exactly that!" Cedric insisted. "Listen, you're all in your O.W.L. year. Soon enough, you'll have so much work you won't have time for anything. I'll pass on a request to the other Prefects—something subtle. You lot just focus on what you can control: your exams."
"Don't tell me there'll be more work," Ron groaned. "I've already got homework from Snape, Trelawney, and Umbridge."
"Umbridge gave you homework?" Cedric asked, surprised. "She barely even spoke to us, just made us read from that awful book."
"What book have you got?" Daphne asked, getting a sinking feeling.
"The same one you've got, Defensive Magical Theory. It's completely useless," Cedric groused. "She's assigned the same textbook for all year groups. It's only been a day and already people are complaining about her."
Luna tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "Did she also say you wouldn't be using spells?"
"She did," Daphne confirmed. "She insists that spells are unnecessary for a 'proper education.' It's all about theory with her, which seems ridiculous."
Cedric shook his head in frustration. "It is. And it's not just about the lack of spells; it's her whole approach. She's clearly not interested in teaching us anything practical or useful."
Luna's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Maybe she's just trying to keep us from getting too powerful. Perhaps the Minister is worried that his army of Heliopaths won't be enough, after what he saw Harry do."
"Heliopaths?" Cedric asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"They're spirits of fire," said Luna confidently. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of them. Cornelius Fudge has been breeding them."
"I don't think he is," Cedric replied carefully, "My dad runs the Department of magical creatures, I'm fairly sure he'd have mentioned if he had to deal with those things."
"Oh no, Heliopaths haven't been seen since Apollo was killed," Luna insisted, "The Ministry has been experimenting with the last ones alive."
"Right… I'll keep an eye out for them, then," Cedric said slowly, still processing Luna's claim. "Anyway, what was your homework from Umbridge?"
"We have to research how the Ministry handled You-Know-Who's defeat in 1981," Daphne answered.
Cedric snorted. "If you ask my dad, he'll tell you that the Ministry didn't handle much of anything well back then. He's always been quite critical of their handled the end of the war."
"That's reassuring," Daphne said wryly.
Cedric shrugged. "In any case, let's not get bogged down by Umbridge's nonsense. I'll talk to the other Prefects and see if we can set up some supplementary study sessions. It'll be good to have a place where we can actually get some practical learning done. Umbridge can't complain if we're doing it outside her class."
It turned out Umbridge could complain, and retaliated by making her lessons mind-numbingly boring. She never even asked for the homework, which bugged Daphne considering how much effort she'd spent on the task.
She had combed through old copies of The Daily Prophet in the library, determined to either prove or disprove Umbridge's claim that You-Know-Who's body had been taken and destroyed after his defeat in 1981.
Much to her annoyance, every report she found seemed to support Umbridge's version of events, at least officially. There were no mentions of a cover-up, no insinuation of anything. If the Ministry had fabricated the story, they'd done an impeccable job.
This left Daphne with a bitter taste in her mouth. She hated that the truth, or at least the official narrative, aligned with what Umbridge had said. But what angered her most was that all her research had been for nothing, dismissed by Umbridge's utter indifference.
There had been no more homework assigned, but during her lessons they would sit in silence, reading the useless book. Cedric's appeal for a self-run study group had been promptly shot down by Umbridge.
She dismissed the request with her usual patronising tone, claiming that practising spells outside of official lessons would be 'dangerous and irresponsible.' According to her, the students' time would be better spent reading her prescribed textbook and absorbing the knowledge it contained.
Within a week, Umbridge had cemented herself as the most detested professor among the students. Her insistence on the theoretical aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts and her outright refusal to allow any practical work had angered almost every student.
Cedric, however, remained undeterred and continued to push for a more practical approach to their learning. This effort was abruptly undermined with the arrival of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three.
The decree established a new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor, tasked with overseeing and evaluating the performance of Hogwarts' staff. According to The Daily Prophet, this role was part of the Minister's plan to address what he perceived as falling standards at Hogwarts.
Daphne saw through the decree as a thinly veiled attempt to tighten control and suppress any dissent. With Umbridge now wielding the authority of High Inquisitor, Cedric's push for a study group was swiftly crushed.
Umbridge even warned Cedric that she would revoke his Head Boy status if he continued to defy her. Her blatant threat provoked indignation among the students who were aware of the situation, but it had the desired effect on Cedric.
With Cedric's efforts to establish a practical study group thwarted, students found themselves increasingly disillusioned. Especially when Umbridge's new position as High Inquisitor quickly proved to be more than just a mere title. She embarked on a relentless campaign of inspections and evaluations on teachers far more qualified than herself.
Some, like Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, handled Umbridge without issue. But to Daphne's surprise, in their Potions class, Draco threw Snape under the bus during one of Umbridge's inspections.
"We often fear for our safety, here," Draco had said when Umbridge asked for his opinion, his tone uncharacteristically earnest. "These conditions are hardly suitable for brewing potions, and it's not uncommon for students to end up in the hospital wing."
His statement hung in the air, effectively silencing the room. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he could do nothing in response. His star pupil had ratted him out, and they all knew anything Snape might have done would only make him look worse.
It was clear even Umbridge hadn't expected that response, looking between Draco and Snape in amazement, before she frantically scribed down a note.
"Is that so, Mr Malfoy?" Umbridge breathed, clearly delighted.
Draco nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced sideways at Snape. "Yes, Professor. I'm afraid the conditions here are quite hazardous."
Umbridge scribbled furiously in her notebook, her quill scratching loudly in the otherwise silent classroom. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr Malfoy. I will be sure to address these concerns."
The atmosphere in the room was thick with unspoken words. Snape's face was a mask of tight control, his usually formidable presence diminished by the public betrayal. Daphne could sense the simmering anger in him, though he managed to keep his voice calm as he continued the lesson, his movements stiff and restrained.
"Ms Brown, could you tell me what potions you have been asked to make in this classroom?" Umbridge's sudden question startled the girl.
"Oh, Professor Umbridge!" The girl squeaked, dropping her vial of salamander blood. "Um, potions? We… We need to make a Strengthening Solution?" she offered hesitantly.
"Yes, that is the potion you are currently making," Umbridge said impatiently. "But I am referring to the past, girl. What potions have you been asked to brew before this year?"
Ms Brown hesitated, her face flushing with embarrassment. "We've done… a few, I think. Shrinking Solution last year? And… and Antidotes?"
"Antidotes?" Umbridge said, her tone sharp and questioning as she turned on Snape. "Why should they need to make antidotes, Professor Snape? I don't recall that being on the exam list."
Snape's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he met Umbridge's gaze. "Antidotes are a crucial part of practical potion-making, Madam Umbridge. They are essential for ensuring students can handle the consequences of potion-related mishaps."
Umbridge's eyes narrowed. "And why do your students need to handle any potion-related mishaps? You haven't been teaching your students to drink their creations, have you?"
Snape's lip curled slightly, but his voice remained even. "No, Madam Umbridge. We do not encourage students to consume their own potions. However, accidents can occur, and understanding how to remedy them is vital. It is part of ensuring that students are competent and safe in their potion-making."
Umbridge's gaze was sceptical, her quill poised over her notebook as she scribbled down more notes. "Very well, Professor Snape. I will make a note of this. But I expect all future practical exercises to strictly adhere to the prescribed curriculum, with no additional elements that might confuse or overwhelm the students."
Snape's eyes flashing with barely concealed anger as he resumed his teaching.