The autumn chill crept through Hogwarts' ancient stonework, making the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom particularly drafty on this late October afternoon. Harry Potter shifted in his wooden chair, tugging his robes closer as his attention drifted from Professor Lupin's lecture. His gaze wandered across the room, settling on a figure he'd rarely paid much attention to before.
Daphne Greengrass sat perfectly straight-backed in her chair, her green Slytherin tie knotted around her neck with precision. She had the kind of beauty that wasn't immediately obvious - elegant rather than striking, with high cheekbones and clear blue eyes that seemed to take in everything while revealing nothing. Her long dirty blonde hair was pulled back in an immaculate French braid, not a single strand out of place. Everything about her spoke of careful control and refinement.
Unlike her housemates - Malfoy's dramatic gestures or Pansy's shrill laugher - Daphne moved through Hogwarts like a shadow, observed but rarely heard. Yet there was something in her measured movements and watchful eyes that suggested hidden depths, like still waters concealing dangerous currents beneath.
"Next up," Lupin's voice cut through Harry's musings, "Mr. Finnegan."
Harry snapped his focus back to the lesson at hand. The class had been studying boggarts, and Lupin was giving each student the chance to confront their fears.
Harry tensed, knowing his turn was coming. The memory of his encounter with the dementors on the train entered his mind, churning his stomach into a hot nervousness. His hands began sweating as he clutched his desk in front of him.
"Excellent, excellent!" Lupin chuckled. He waved up the next student. "Miss Greengrass next."
Daphne rose from her seat with characteristic grace, though Harry noticed her fingers whitening slightly around her wand. She moved to the front of the class, her footsteps silent on the stone floor.
Lupin waved his wand. CLICK. The cabinet door creaked open. The temperature in the room plummeted. A tall, hooded figure glided out, its rattling breath filling the air with the scent of decay.
Daphne's eyes widened, her face blanching white.
It was a dementor.
Harry's heart skipped a beat. The familiar intense cold gripped his chest filling his mind with an unwavering dread.
But watching someone else confront his same deepest fear stirred something unexpected in him - a mix of empathy and curiosity.
Daphne shakily raised her wand, "R-Riddikuloss," she stammered.
Nothing happened.
Harry winced, noticing her mispronunciation of the incantation.
The dementor loomed closer, its icy presence suffocating the rooms levity from the air. Harry hoped desperately for her to muster the courage to try again.
"Concentrate Daphne, picture something amusing," Lupin said in encouragement.
Daphne's blue eyes widened in pure terror, her lips parting in a silent scream.
Her eyes rolled back, and she buckled to the floor, unconscious. Harry's stomach flipped in shock.
Sharp and mocking laughter erupted from the Slytherins and even a few Gryffindors in the room.
Pansy's voice dripped with mock concern. "Aww, daddy's perfect pureblood princess can't handle a simple boggart?"
Malfoy snickered, sneering in delight.
"That's enough," Harry snapped, surprising himself with the heat in his voice.
Lupin quickly stepped in, banishing the boggart. He squatted beside Daphne and waved his wand. "Ennevrate," he mutttered.
Daphne blinked her eyes open, dazed for a moment as she sat up. Her face was still drained of color.
"It's quite all right Daphne," Lupin said, giving her a reassuring look.
As Daphne looked around the classroom, her face blushed in embarrassment. She no doubt noticed some fellow students, especially Draco and Pansy, snickering and whispering to each other.
"Don't worry about them," Lupin said, shaking his head. "Even the bravest amongst us aren't always immune to our darkest fears."
Lupin reached into his robes and pulled out a wrapped piece of chocolate. He broke off a piece and offered it to her.
"Here," Lupin said kindly, offering her a piece of chocolate. "It helps, trust me."
Daphne gave a subtle nod as she accepted the chocolate. She quickly scrambled to her feet and returned towards her seat, her usual grace abandoned in her haste.
Giggles and quiet snickers whispered from Daphne's classmates around the room.
"Hope your father doesn't hear about you fainting, Greengrass. Wouldn't want him to know he has a scared little girl as heir to his estate."
Harry shot Malfoy a look of disgust. "Shove off Malfoy," he hissed.
Malfoy smirked. "Oh ho. Maybe you should ask her out Potter. You could faint in each others arms."
Pansy shrieked with laughter.
Harry ignored them, turning back towards the front of the room.
A few desks in front of him, Daphne slumped into her chair and bowed her head in shame. Harry noticed her eyes glimmering with fresh tears.
"Settle down everyone, settle down, every one among us has our moments of weakness," said by Lupin, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. "We are not defined by our failures, but by our efforts to overcome them. Now… next, Parvati."
Though he hadn't ever so much as spoken a word to her, Harry couldn't help feeling bad for the Daphne. He wondered about her personal encounter with a dementor that caused her fear to take hold and whether like him, she also heard a voice terrified, pleading screaming in her ears as she fainted.
The lesson continued with Parvati facing her mummy-boggart, transforming it into a stumbling, toilet-paper-wrapped mess. The classroom once again echoed with laughter. Harry noticed this seemed to wound Daphne further Harry noticed the class's laughter seemed to wound Daphne further, as she hunched over desk, burying her head in her arms.
"Brilliant Parvati!" Lupin said, smiling. "Ron, you're next."
Harry watched as Ron Weasley took his turn in front of the boggart, a monstrous menacing spider.
"R-ridikkulus," Ron said, waving his trembling wand.
The spider turned into a stumbling, tap dancing spider, complete with a barbershop quartet pinstripe suit and hat.
The class erupted into another chorus of laughter.
At that moment, Daphne gathered her bookbag and slid off her seat and quickly striding towards the door at the back of the room. A wake of whispers and snickers followed as everyone glanced at her departure.
Harry felt a strange urge to follow, to offer some word of comfort. His heart warmed in empathy for her. But on second thought, he realized he had never actually spoken to her, and so decided to remain rooted to his seat.
Harry spent dinner that night twirling his fork absentmindedly in a lump of delicious spaghetti. He had faced a dementor before—he knew what it was like to feel that helpless, to feel like the life was being drained out of you. But what gnawed at him wasn't the dementor itself; it was Daphne. The way the Slytherins had mocked her, the way she had fainted and how she tried to hide her pain afterward. Harry couldn't help being bothered by the unjust cruelty. Especially after it reminded him of suffering so much at the hands of the Dursleys and his old classmates back in primary school before Hogwarts.
Harry finished his dinner and he headed back towards the main stairwell. As he turned a corner near an empty classroom, the faint sound of muffled sobs caught his attention. He froze for a moment, listening.
Following the sound, to an open classroom door he peered inside and spotted Daphne. She was sitting on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest, hidden in the shadows of a desk. Her face was buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
Harry froze. He wasn't sure what to do—should he leave her alone? His brain overloaded with options and he decided to walk away. But just as he made to do so, Daphne looked up sharply, her tear-streaked face quickly morphing into one of anger and embarrassment. She hastily wiped her eyes, as if hoping to erase the evidence.
"What do you want, Potter?" she snapped, her voice sharp but tinged with vulnerability.
Harry froze. "I—I didn't mean to intrude," he stammered. He hadn't expected her to speak. "I just… er… heard."
Daphne's icy glare met his, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she looked away, folding her arms across her chest defensively.
"I know how it feels," Harry blurted. He cursed himself immediately—of course he sounded like an idiot. But there was no turning back now. "With the dementors, I mean. They're horrible," he said, stepping into the room, closer to her.
Daphne scoffed, though it lacked any real venom. "I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity," Harry said quietly. "It's just…" Harry trailed off, grimacing. "Look when the dementors attacked on the train I fainted too."
For a moment, there was silence. Harry hesitated, unsure if he should say more. Daphne's gaze had softened, yet still appearing guarded.
"I just wanted to say… it's okay to be scared," he said finally. "You're not alone."
Harry cringed internally at himself, wondering how lame and cliche Daphne found his words.
Daphne stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if to say something. But the words never came. Instead, she gave a curt nod, and Harry took it as his cue to leave. He gave her a reassuring grimace and turned back towards the classroom door.
But before he made it far, the sound of something cackling echoed down the corridor.
"Peeves," Harry muttered under his breath, already anticipating trouble.
Sure enough, the poltergeist materialized in the air a few feet away, floating just above Harry's head. Peeves grinned wickedly, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Well, well, well!" Peeves said, his voice gleefully loud as he twirled in the air of the empty classroom. "What's this? A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, all alone in the dark? How romantic!"
Harry's face burned. He immediately opened his mouth to argue, but Peeves was quicker.
"Didn't know you had a thing for Slytherins, Potter!" Peeves cackled, circling them. "And Greengrass! What would your Slytherin friends and family say, eh?"
Daphne's face flushed red, though her expression hardened. "Shut up, Peeves."
"Ahhh, lovebirds getting defensive, are they?" Peeves cooed mockingly, flying higher to avoid Daphne's glare. "How cute! Oh, how cute!"
Harry took a step forward, trying to catch Peeves' attention. "Leave us alone, Peeves."
"Why should I, Potty? Perhaps I should pen a ballad in tribute in an ode to this romantic ocassion. Oh, wouldn't that be delightful?" Peeves made a loud mock gasp.
Before Harry could come up with any response, Peeves suddenly pulled something from behind his back—several Dungbombs.
Harry's eyes widened. "Oh please no," he muttered.
With a wicked laugh, Peeves threw the Dungbombs down at the ground, filling the hallway with a thick, foul-smelling cloud. Harry coughed and stumbled backward, pulling his robes over his nose. Daphne did the same, swearing under her breath.
"See ya, lovers!" Peeves cackled as he zoomed off down the hall, still laughing as he disappeared around the corner.
"Of all the—" Daphne muttered, coughing as she waved a hand in front of her face, trying to clear the stink from her nose. "I hate him."
Before either of them could fully recover, another sound reached Harry's ears—this time, footsteps. Familiar, heavy, and slow.
"Filch," Harry groaned. He knew it was only a matter of time before the caretaker arrived.
Sure enough, Argus Filch appeared at the end of the hallway, his squinty eyes scanning the corridor. His nostrils flared as he took in the smell of the Dungbombs. His face twisted in fury.
"Dungbombs! In my corridor!" Filch snarled, his eyes landing on Harry and Daphne. "And you again Potter!
Harry opened his mouth to protest. "It wasn't us—"
"Oh, spare me your excuses, Potter!" Filch growled, his face turning an unpleasant shade of purple. "I know trouble when I see it, and you're both in for it now. Stinking up my corridor—you'll both have detention!"
Daphne's face darkened, but she remained silent, her arms crossed.
Filch's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And none of this wand-waving nonsense either! Tomorrow night, the pair of you will be cleaning the trophy room. By hand. The Muggle way!"
Harry sighed. Of course, it had to be cleaning, he thought glumly. Though secretly a part of him stirred with excitement at the prospects of talking more with Daphne.