"So, Ollivander's?" Harry offered to Daphne as flakes of snow began to flutter from the sky. "He might help us."

The cold February air was biting against his skin, pellets of ice slowly starting to build a sheet on top of his robes. The gothic Diagon Alley shops had not a light activated, their frosted over window fronts preventing any eyes from peering through.

There was no one around, the usually bustling streets silent and empty. The only noises were he, Daphne, and the whistling of calm winds through winding paths.

He and Daphne were at the end of a short discussion on which wandmaker to approach. After a very quick talk, they quickly found out fairly quickly that they only knew one.

"Process of elimination dictates that, yes, we go to Ollivander's." She said in slight amusement, tapping herself with her wand to warm herself up. Harry quickly did the same, the brush of magic against his skin soothing in its warmth. Both of them shrunk their trunks and put them in their pockets.

They began to move through the frosted over streets of Diagon Alley, trudging through ankle-deep snow to get to the wandmaker's shop. The night sky hung over the world, signifying the end of the day. Harry was having a rather odd day, really.

Firstly, he met Daphne Greengrass here. He'd heard her name before and he'd seen her face before, but he never knew that the name belonged to this face. He was never great with recognizing people…or remembering names. It certainly didn't help that he had never held a conversation with the girl.

So, yes, meeting Daphne was the first odd part of the day. It was also probably the best thing he'd done this past month, making it the best odd part of the day. Everything else went downhill from there. Besides vandalising Umbridge's office, Harry held zero regrets on that front.

He turned his head to look over at her, casting her a curious glance. Daphne seemed to sense his staring and met his gaze. Harry spoke, frost fogging over his glasses. "I still don't really understand why you'd stun Umbridge. Why help me?"

Harry pulled off his glasses, brushing them against his cloak to get off the frost.

Daphne rolled her eyes, looking at him as if he were dumb. She nearly reminded Harry of Hermione at the moment. "You saved my life against that fiendfyre. I'd never have figured out how to stop it if it weren't for you." She admitted. "It'd have been wrong to lie there when you saved me."

"So?" He said, looking at her as if she were mad. "That'd have been the Slytherin thing to do. You're a Slytherin but you don't much act it."

"You're correct. I am not a caricature or stereotype of a Slytherin." She bluntly said, flakes of snow catching on her hair. "Just like you aren't a caricature or stereotype of a Gryffindor. If you were, you would have refused to flee Hogwarts. We're both people who have our dominant traits associated with our houses, but that doesn't mean they are our only traits."

"That…makes sense, actually." Harry quietly said, mulling over her words. "But still, you cursed Umbridge! That was, well—"

"—unexpected? Not shocking that you didn't expect it. Who'd have expected a perfect Slytherin like myself to have, well…um…" She blushed slightly, looking away. "...I have slight anger issues. Umbridge implied that I was being confounded by you, giving me an opt out of the problem. It infuriated me. And, well…"

"You lashed out." Harry nodded in understanding. He could relate, after all. His temper had always been on a short fuse. "I'm much the same."

Harry looked down at the glasses in his hands, deep in thought. This talk of Slytherins not being fully Slytherins and Gryffindors not being fully Gryffindors reminded him of something from long ago. Something he had only ever told Dumbledore.

He slipped his glasses back on after quickly charming them to not fog. "I was almost a Slytherin, you know. If I'd never met Malfoy back on the train before first year, I doubt I'd have been a Gryffindor. I practically had to force the hat to not pick Slytherin."

"Really?" Daphne incredulously said. "You, a Slytherin? I can't really imagine it. You don't seem terribly cunning or ambitious. Very much not Slytherin in your mannerisms." She kicked up snow, particles of frozen water flying through the air ahead of us.

"I can be cunning." He could distinctly recall tricking Malfoy Senior into freeing Dobby. "But you should probably blame the five years in Gryffindor."

Daphne nodded in understanding. "I see. The Gryffindor brainwashing got to you, didn't it? The houses' cults always get people."

"Like you didn't fall into Slytherin's Cult of Personality?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's bloody boggling how much Slytherins worship…well…Slytherin."

"Can't say I have."

Harry raised a brow at her. "Really?"

The blonde hummed, yet she had a dry look to her face. "Usually, you need to be friends with people to get indoctrinated into their group. I'm quite fond of my house, but I don't have many—any—friends in it."

"Really?" Harry repeated himself, staring at her in disbelief. "You don't have friends? But…you're rather friendly. Even Malfoy has friends and he is far more off putting than you. Not that you are off putting!" Harry backtracked, blubbering over his words. "You're the opposite of off putting. The reverse of Malfoy!"

"The opposite of off putting?" Daphne mused with a tiny smile. "So…attractive, then?"

Harry felt his cheeks lightly warm, turning his head away for a moment. "You're a twat." He said with no heat. "Yes, you are very attractive. Happy?"

"Quite." She brushed snow off of her hair. "But even if I am attractive to others, as you say, that doesn't mean I'll have friends. My personality doesn't clash well with those in Slytherin."

"How?" Harry forced down his blush, looking at her incredulously. "You seem fairly charismatic, if I am to be honest."

She crossed her arms, looking away with rosy cheeks. "...I'm too rude for them. They get offended easily." Daphne pouted slightly, turning forward. "You have to understand, Harry, that Slytherin is weird. It's full of people who like to try and play mini-politician. Most grow out of it by their fourth year, but for the first three years every kid acts like they are on the floor of the Wizengamot. It is utterly insufferable to deal with."

"So you made fun of them?" Harry said with a snicker. He could almost imagine a little Daphne hurling insults at a tiny Draco and Pansy. Clever insults, of course. Ones that Draco probably still didn't understand.

She blushed again. "So I made fun of them, yes. Most Slytherins our age act normal now, but I turned them off to me our first year. I lacked a lot of tact back then."

He gave her an odd glance. "Just then? If I recall, you did just curse Umbridge—"

"Completely tactical." She nodded self-assuredly. "All went according to plan."

"Your plan was to flee to muggle London?"

"...the plan is still being built?" Daphne weakly offered.

Harry gave her a blank stare. "Uh…huh…"

"Hey!" She complained. "Don't look at me like this. I completely had a plan…even if I'm working it out, it is still a plan!"

"Sure." Harry nodded like he was completely convinced as they reached the entrance of Ollivander's. "Let's just go into the shop, yeah?"

"You're a prat, Harry." She commented with a huff. "But fine. I'm a terrible Slytherin and you're a terrible Gyffindor. Happy?"

Harry wanted to argue that he was not, in fact, a terrible Gryffindor, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he pushed against the door of Ollivander's shop and entered into the darkened store with Daphne right behind him.

They stepped into the building, their steps echoing in the room. The shop was dark, the only lights being one lit candle on the counter. Ruffling began to sound from somewhere in the back of the store, likely Ollivander waking up or something along those lines.

Harry shared a glance with Daphne as they waited for the wandmaker to appear. It only took several long moments, but Ollivander poked his head from the back of the shop, hair dishevelled and clothes hastily put on.

Ollivander blinked his eyes rapidly, waking himself up. "Mr. Potter…? And Ms. Greengrass…? An unexpected pair at an unexpected hour at an unexpected time."

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander…" Harry looked back towards Daphne before turning back to the wandmaker. "We could use your help."

"Well, I can certainly see that." Ollivander said with a small laugh. "It isn't often that I see students skipping school to go to a wand shop." Ollivander narrowed his eyes on Harry. "So, Mr. Potter. What is it that I can do for you?"

"We need the Trace removed." Harry bluntly said.

Ollivander's eyes widened slightly, looking at Harry as if he were insane. "Surely you jest, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid I can't do something like that. Now, I'd suggest you best leave before someone hears what things you are leaving."

"—but sir."

Daphne cut him off. "Surely you don't want the Dark Lord to win. We were assaulted at Hogwarts and forced to leave. If Harry is left without the ability to use his wand in the general public, the Dark Lord will easily win."

Harry looked at Daphne with a surprised look. He hadn't broached the topic with her about Voldemort, but he didn't expect her to fully believe that Voldemort was back.

It made him fairly happy.

Ollivander hesitated at Daphne's words, backing up slightly. "It's—it is not so simple. The Ministry would string me up for such a thing—!" The greying man paused, looking downwards. "Is he really back?" He said in barely a whisper. "Is the Dark Lord really back?"

"Yes." Harry sharply said. "He is back. At the end of the tournament, I was brought to a graveyard. I was held down, forcefully bled, and watched him be resurrected. I fought him! Cedric Diggory died! Voldemort is back and you need to help me."

"..." The man seemed to age hundreds of years in a moment, cheeks turning gaunt as he paled immensely. "I…I believe you. I do. But I cannot help you. You'd really best leave. I won't tell on you, but I will not help you. If the Ministry heard about it…if the Dark Lord heard about it…I'm no better than dead…"

"Coward." Daphne accused, going on a rant. "You're being a coward. You're an old man, Mr. Ollivander. How much longer do you have to live? Ten, twenty years? You wish to live through such cowardice, to hang on to very small embers of life?" She spat out. Harry looked at her with wide eyes. "You have very little life left to live, yet you'd be so weak as to not even open the potential for risk to that life? When you're old and dying, the Dark Lord ruling our nation, you'll have no one to blame but yourself!" She hissed out, turning around. "Let's go. Harry. We'll find no help here."

Harry glanced between Daphne and Ollivander. The man looked incredibly old, almost at the brink of tears. Guilt was washed across his face.

He turned, following Daphne. She was already approaching the door. He felt like she didn't need to be so rude to Ollivander. That they could have convinced them.

Well, their option was shot.

He neared the door, fingers reaching for the handle of the shop.

"Wait!" Ollivander croaked out, voice heavily pained. "Just—just wait. I'll…I will help you…"

"Good." Daphne said, immediately turning around. "You picked the right option."

Harry looked at Daphne, eyes widened in surprise. Was she convincing Ollivander the whole time? Why did he agree?

He turned with Daphne, approaching Ollivander. The older man seemed sickly, practically gaunt.

"Give me your wands…" Ollivander quietly muttered, looking at anything but Harry.

Harry glanced at Daphne before taking out his wand and giving it to Ollivander. Daphne did the same, handing Ollivander her wand.

Ollivander moved over to the counter, placing both wands on the counter. The greyed man pulled out his wand and held it over Daphne and his wands, beginning to mutter over them. Wisps of golden balls of magic flew about before them, eventually settling in their wands before ceasing.

"There. Take your wands and leave." Ollivander said, rushing to the back of a shop in a hurry.

Harry walked over to his wand, picking it up and giving it a small swish. It had a different weight to it, if that made any sense. Perhaps it was a placebo, but he could almost feel a change in it.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked Daphne. She nodded at him and they left the shop, entering the snowy streets of Diagon Alley.

"Where to now?" Daphne curiously wondered to him. "How are we supposed to get to your Godfather's?

"The Knightbus?" Harry offered.

"No."

"It's not that bad." He defended the rough method of transport. "Anyways! How in the world did you get Ollivander to agree? I thought he was just going to let us leave."

Daphne grinned. "I made him feel bad about himself in such a way that he couldn't do anything but agree. If he actually let us leave, his conscience never would have shut up. He knew that. I knew that. And so he helped us."

"...you're horrible." He said almost playfully. Almost, because she kind of was horrible. Playing on an old man's emotions in such a way was terrible. But, well, it helped him.

He wasn't going to complain.

"I know." She replied with a brilliant smile. "But, back to the point—no Knightbus, got it? If you have the Floo address, we could do that. But, I refuse to take the Knightbus."

"Horrible and ridiculous." Harry tisked. "And no, I don't have the Floo address. We'll have to walk, then. Or take a bus or car.

"Bus or car?" Daphne wondered aloud. "Like the Knightbus? If so, I refuse."

He shook his head, starting to walk back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "No, not like the Knightbus. They are muggle inventions that are somewhat like a land-based broom."

Daphne followed him, an interested expression on her face. "A land-based broom? Interesting. Muggles really do come up with the most interesting things. But why is it called a bus? Did the Knightbus just randomly come across a similar name?"

"The Knightbus is actually just a magically modified bus." Harry answered. It always amused him as to what magicals did or did not know about muggle society. Like Mr. Weasley and the rubber duck. "Busses look like the Knightbus, they just don't move nearly as fast. They are far more…not deadly."

"And how does it move if there is no magic to propel it?" Daphne wondered aloud, flakes of snow coating her hair. "Do the muggles use an animal to move it? I know they use carriages."

Harry furrowed his brows, trying to remember the very little science he had learned. "I'm not completely sure." He admitted with some embarrassment. "But I know they power it with petroleum—an oil based fuel. It works by, I think, small explosions propelling wheels forward?

"Really? The muggles are quite brilliant, aren't they? Figuring out how to function without magic, I mean." Her eyes lit up excitedly. "Ooh! Show me some muggle things in London!" She practically ordered him. "It'd be good for your pride, then you can claim you took a pretty girl out."

He couldn't help but snort, lips upturning as he kicked up snow. "Full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Full of myself?" She questioned. Daphne flicked her hair back, causing a coat of flakes to fly off. Her lips upturned, eyes large as she stared at him. "Am I not a pretty girl?"

Harry made a rather good impression of the Hogwarts Express if you asked him. What, with his bright red face and all. "Well, I didn't say that. You are rather attractive. Just, well, arrogant."

The winter air felt nice against his burning skin. He'd much prefer the fiendfyre at the moment, at least its burning was less awkward. He managed to force the blush away—even if it was like wrestling a hippogriff.

"Fair." Daphne admitted. "But I'd argue I'm just being self-aware, not arrogant."

"That's what an arrogant person would say. How Slytherin of you."

Daphne huffed. "Hey! That's not fair. Draco is arrogant, but how Slytherin would you really say he is? He isn't cunning. He isn't particularly fraternic. He is a Slytherin in name only and he certainly is arrogant."

"But he is ambitious." Harry defended his point as they reached the front of the Leaky Cauldron.

"...fair." She said with a pout, slightly deflating. "But being arrogant is not a Slytherin trait, thank you very much."

He rolled his eyes with a smile. "So you say. Anyways, we need to change into muggle clothes. Or just transfigure our clothes, that'd work too."

Daphne looked down at her clothes and lightly rubbed the cloth against her fingers. "Do I have to? These are a nice set of robes…"

"Yes." He bluntly said, pulling out his wand and pointing them at his clothes. "Get to transfigurating. We aren't going to steal from the muggles."

Daphne sighed deeply. "Fiiiine. But I don't have the foggiest idea as to what muggles wear."

Harry waved his wand over himself, transfigurating his robes into more muggle-esq clothes. Green puffer, white tee, blue trousers: this is muggle enough, he thinks. Some of the transfiguration was rough, but it'd do. "I'll do it for you." Harry offers. "What are you wearing under your robes?"

Daphne pinkened slightly, raising her eyebrows at him. "You're quite the perverted bloke, aren't you?"

"Hush." He replied with a roll of his eyes. "If I wanted to see you nude, I'd take you to dinner and you'd do it willingly."

Harry wanted to kick himself for his words. Since when has he gotten so bold?!

"How presumptuous." Daphne said, crossing her arms. As much as she tried to hide it, her mouth was twinged up.

Harry breathed out, perspiration floating in the chilling air. "Just…I need to know because muggles wear different undergarments than magicals. I don't accidentally want to transfigure anything I shouldn't."

"Let's just find a muggle shop. We can find some money to pay with, alright?"

"You really are ridiculous." Harry murmured, waving his wand. He was done dealing with this topic. A moment later, Daphne was wearing blue trousers, a white tee, and an aquamarine puffer. "Let's just go."

The blonde was staring at her clothes in slight shock. "You—" She shook her head, snickering. "Whatever. These clothes are quite comfy, though. The muggles have decent taste. And you matched our clothes to our eye colours." She noted, palming the puffer's sleeve.

Harry ignored her, moving into the Leaky Cauldron and trying to get through it as fast as he could. It was fairly empty, which was good. The only ones here were wizards drinking their nights away. Poor blokes.

He let out a snort, getting a quick glance from Daphne. He just shook his head. Harry could almost imagine himself here in ten years, drinking the night away after everything went to the gutter due to Voldemort. Bloody hell, he'd be the poor bloke!

He shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Keeping his head low, he walked through the pub with Daphne right on his heels. Getting through the dinky pub took very little time, only taking longer because Daphne refused to get dirty.

Daphne was really going to be the death of him. Even Ginny didn't act as…he didn't even have a word to describe Daphne's behaviour. Both Ginny and Daphne had a mouth to them, but Ginny was the bar. Daphne managed to go far past that point.

Not that he disliked her attitude. It was quite nice, if he were to be honest. Just hard to deal with. She reminded him of a rebellious princess from one of those old films the Dursleys would put on. Not that he was allowed to watch them. Harry always managed to listen in, though.

Princess Leia! That's it. Daphne was somewhat like Princess Leia. Snarky, pretty cool, but still princess-y. Far prettier, too. And less hard, but that wasn't fair to Daphne. The girl was doing fairly well for her first brush with danger.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as they exited the pub, the cold streets of London meeting them. Wind hailed through the street as flakes of snow came by in a flurry. London was beautiful in the winter—shame the Dursleys never let him see any part of non-magical Britain in the winter.

"It's…strange." Daphne spoke, head swelling from side to side. She was drinking in the image of muggle-Londo, nose scrunched slightly whilst her eyes were wide. "The smell is far worse."

Harry laughed. "Well, that is definitely true. Muggles can't just banish all their rubbish like we can, you know. It tends to get stuck on the streets." Harry kicked a snow-covered Coca-Cola can as emphasis.

"I suppose that's where the stereotype of muggles smelling comes from, then." Daphne said with a nod. "But it isn't too terrible. I've seen magical places that smell far worse."

"Like the seat next to Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry asked with a grin.

Daphne smirked back. "I've tried my hardest to avoid sitting next to them. Pansy looks like she's half about to croak when she is near them, so I can't possibly imagine the stench."

"Like death and spoiled food?"

"I don't even want to postulate." She shuddered, and it was not from the cold. "Getting off of Malfoy's cronies…peculiarities, how many muggles live in London? The buildings stretch farther than I can see!"

Harry shrugged. "A million? Probably more, but I don't know the exact number."

"A million?!" Daphne exclaimed loudly, head turning quickly as she drank in the Victorian style buildings. Her eyes traced over each brick and stone, taking in the sheer volume of structures. "How can so many muggles live in one place?"

"London isn't even the most populated city in the world." Harry offered to her, almost laughing as she looked more flabbergasted.

Daphne's mouth opened and closed, catching small particles of frost in her mouth. "I—I knew there were a lot of muggles, but…how? How can so many people live in one place?"

He shrugged again, his shoulders getting used to the motion. She asked good questions that he had terrible answers to. "Hermione would be the better person to ask, but she is not here. I'm pretty sure it's because of vertical buildings? Muggles build structures that go rather high into the sky."

"Oka—" A car drove by, Daphne's eyes lighting up with the headlights. "Ooh! Is that one of the cars you spoke of? That's wicked! You said that muggles use oil to power them with explosions? That's so…strange? No, that's insane!" Her mouth was firing at a mile a minute as she practically vibrated from her excitement. "How do they even get the explosions to make it work? Do they launch the vehicle with tiny explosions, making millions of them a second—?"

"I'm not a good source for this." Harry said, dashing her excitement a bit. Not his fault, he had no clue how to answer her questions. "We could go to a muggle library, if you want?"

"A muggle library?" She curiously asked, turning to him with a bounce in her. "How much would we have to pay for that? And what family owns it?"

Harry tilted his head. "What do you mean, what family owns it?" He confusedly said. "It's a library. It's public. And free."

Daphne managed to widen her eyes even more. She laid her hands on his shoulders, meeting his gaze. "Free, you say? You mean the muggles make knowledge free for anyone? As in, you and I could go to a library right now and read anything that muggles have made?"

"...yes?" He oddly said. "Is there not a magical equivalent?"

"No!" She rapidly shook her head side-to-side. He hadn't realised she was such a boffin. "No, there absolutely is not an equivalent. Do you think the Wizengamot—which, mind you, is an aristocracy in sheep's clothing—would let knowledge be public, let alone free?"

Harry blinked. "The Wizengamot is an aristocracy?"

"That is what you got from what I said?" She practically groaned out. "I hadn't realised you were so unlearned about our society." Daphne sighed. "Yes, the Wizengamot is an aristocracy. It is divided into the Higher House and the Lower House. The Higher House has the majority of the power and its titles are inherited by baronets—baronets like, well, my family, the Malfoys, the Blacks, and so on. The Lower House has less votes and it usually takes insane amounts of money to get elected, so usually a member of the Upper House also owns a Lower House seat."

"...that seems unfair." It reminded him of the House of Lords and House of Commons, though. Just on a more extreme level.

"You think?" She sarcastically replied. "Why do you think so many Slytherins are pricks? A small chunk of us are literal nobility."

"That…explains a lot, actually." He'd never met any muggle nobles, but he'd heard many bad things about them. The queen was probably the only good one. He cared little for the rest of the royales. "So, then, where are we off to?"

"The library?" Daphne practically begged, making her eyes big.

Harry almost cringed. "It's likely closed at this hour. We'd have a better chance at making it to my godfather's.

Daphne sighed. "Why even ask, then, you utter prat. Fine, what do you propose?"

"A cab." Harry proposed, doubting she even knew the term. "It's a car that someone will drive for you to a place."

"Lovely." Daphne said, still a bit miffed. "We'll find one of these cabs."

"It's a plan."

AN: So...a lot of follows for one chapter. That's bloody wild. I hope I can keep up with the expectations? Give any criticism you like. I meant to update yesterday. Twice, actually. Then a cold decided it wanted to whip my ass.