A Radical Solution
Learning to swim ends with Harry and Daphne escaping their curse by… making it someone else's problem. This is the story of those poor saps.
Chapter one: Halloween surprise.
October 31st, 1995.
Harry Potter, aged fifteen, was eating the Halloween feast while the ceiling if the great hall showed driving rain. He slowly ate a hot-dog, while musing that Voldemort – despite his scar's recent pain, and the visions he didn't want – had not organised something for tonight. There was a whiff of burnt sugar. He looked over the table at Hermione, who was making sandwiches out of crackers and marshmallows, balancing them on a fork, and firing them with a flame from her wand. Her attempts so far lay incinerated on the plate below her fork. Attempting anyway.
"A bit less fire" suggested Harry.
"The book I found says you make them over a campfire" said Hermione "I'm sure this is right."
"Seems" said Ron, methodically slicing a pork pie into nine even segments "like a waste of perfectly good biscuits and marshmallows."
"You say that now" said Hermione intently "But when I have this working you'll be – "
"I'll be in bed" said Ron.
Harry suddenly felt woozy, and his back and wrist suddenly burnt like they were on fire.
"OY Hermione!" snapped Harry, lifting his arm and waving it around to cool it off.
"Don't blame me, I'm over here!" said Hermione from the other side of the table.
On the far side of the great hall, one of the Slytherin girls had just cried out too; Harry stared, it was the blonde one that never said anything, and usually just stood behind Pansy.
Harry eyed his sore wrist. There was a brand-new scar. Harry pulled up his sleeve and… there was a name written on his wrist, with something under it.
"Hermione – just hypothetically" said Harry "Curse that writes a name on your wrist?"
"Rubbish" asked Hermione, and her latest attempt at a melted marshmallow on a cracker caught fire. She glared at him. Maybe he had distracted her this time.
Angelina Johnson fired off a spell that hit the blob of flaming marshmallow and froze it. "Granger learn some cooking charms" she said. "Harry, we need to talk, outside."
Hermione grumbled, varnished the mess on her plate and started again. Harry eyed his latest mysterious scar and looked over at the girl from Slytherin. Who… he wasn't even sure who she was. But the sight of her talking animatedly to her brown-haired friend had Harry feeling odd… his pants were uncomfortable, and his hands felt sweaty… and he wondered what her lips tasted like.
Angelina got up and Harry followed her out of the great hall. She led him wordlessly into the little ante-room the first years were stashed in before sorting. Angelina shut the door and cast a spell on it.
"Harry, do you really suddenly have a name on your wrist?" she asked. He nodded silently. She frowned.
"Is it bad?" asked Harry.
"Well, we've confirmed your life is a trashy romance novel" said Angelina sarcastically. "So it's probably a cruel prank."
Harry undid his shirt-cuff properly and slid the sleeve up. The words 'Daphne Greengrass' in elegant looping, handwriting, but as a red, inflamed scar. Under the words was a row of… doodles.
"Um" said Harry "There's more than just a name." He held his arm out.
"Daphne Greengrass?" said Angelina sounding surprised "They're purebloods, so… that's traditional."
"Traditional?" asked Harry.
"In the books some pureblood witch wakes up with the name of her true love on her wrist." said Angelina "But not with wonky runes under it. Lemme think."
"It's nonsense." she said after a moment.
"Nonsense?" asked Harry.
"It's not words in any language I know." said Angelina "Did you do runes"?
"No" said Harry. He didn't miss the eye-roll.
"Well those are not proper runes – they look a little like Norse runes, but they're all curved lines, and Norse Runes are straight lines. And they don't look like runes I know " she said.
"I… I think there's more curse on my back" said Harry, unwilling to touch a shirt that felt like it was sticking to his back. Just some blood. Not an unfamiliar feeling for Harry.
"Well I'm not looking at that" said Angelina. "Sounds like a job for Madam Pomfrey."
Harry tensed up. "No" he said.
"Oh shut up. She loves you.!" said Angelina.
"I'll never get to bed" Harry complained.
"Yeah you will – she saves one just for you." said Angelina, and she smiled. "Seriously – cursed scars are no joke, and you've just been cursed."
"Oh I know all about cursed scars" said Harry. "Famous for it" he added sarcastically.
"Yours is weird. Come on – we're going to the infirmary. If you're lucky you can meet the future Mrs Potter there."
Harry shook his head "No" he said.
Angelina unlocked the door and dragged Harry by one arm. Being taller, and a chaser, she had the leverage.
"When you get cursed I'm not dragging you around" said Harry.
"You'd have to grow first, runt" said Angelina.
Madam Pomfrey was at the feast; but had evidently seen Harry dragged off, and she arrived a little later.
"What's going on, Miss Johnson?" asked Madam Pomfrey.
"Potter's suddenly had a cursed scar appear on his wrist" said Angelina.
"On his wrist?" asked Madam Pomfrey. And her eyebrows were raised.
"A girls name" said Angelina.
"Oh dear." said Madam Pomfrey, and now she was frowning. "Potter, arm out!"
Harry extended his arm, and she bent and looked at it. "Oh. Miss Greengrass. That's suspicious. The marks are nonsense though."
So Daphne Greengrass was the culprit, thought Harry. The name was familiar, but didn't ring a bell.
The infirmary doors banged open and thee girls came in – two fifth years Harry vaguely recognised, and a smaller one. A blonde with straight hair, another girl with curly brown hair, the smaller one with long straight brown hair.
Strangely, the blonde stopped and gasped, clutched at her throat "He's HERE!" she cried.
"Well that'll save time" said her friend.
"Cool" said the third year with a cheery smile "I'm Astoria Greengrass, that's my sister. Who's apparently your one true love."
Harry nodded at the girls. His stomach roiled with fear. Well, and the sight of Greengrass had him wondering… 'how do you ask a girl out, without it being a disaster?'
"Miss Greengrass. Your wrist, I take it?" asked Madam Pomfrey.
Daphne Greengrass nodded, and her right hand clutched her left wrist.
"Come and show me. I'm not a mind reader." said Madam Pomfrey.
Daphne Greengrass and friends came over and Greengrass laboriously rolled up her sleeve.
Her wrist had a raised red mark.
Madam Pomfrey read it. "Well, that says Harry Potter… and has some nonsense runes under it."
"Potter, arm out!" she commanded.
Harry held out his arm.
"Hmm. Different nonsense." said Madam Pomfrey, and she waved her wand. A trolley rolled over, and she took a clipboard and started copying the marks.
"Hmm" she said "Some sort of code." Then she cast a charm on Harry and frowned. "That's worse than usual."
And she cast a similar looking charm on Daphne Greengrass, and shook her head "That is not a coincidence. You two are cursed."
"I dunno" said the older, brown haired girl "It's not that bad a curse. At least he's good at quidditch."
Madam Pomfrey seemed not to find that amusing, "Miss Davis. They are cursed. And that's not a curse I've ever seen before – the scars are simply from a cursed quill. And someone has transferred it instantly to both of them."
"Oh bum," said Astoria Greengrass "So they're not soulmates. That's a mean prank."
Harry let out a breath, content that 'something bad had happened, but he wasn't going to have to marry some girl. She had a pretty face, well when she wasn't frowning. But also – girl and that was just too hard.'
"Well that's a relief" he said. She stared at him, and Harry saw a pair of blue-grey eyes, slightly bloodshot, narrowed in a glare "And I would be such a disappointment as wife," she said in a posh tone.
The idea of Daphne Greengrass in a wedding dress, kissing him occurred briefly to him. The holding and kissing bit seemed… well, she was pretty. And her lips were a fascinating shade of pink and he suddenly felt like his lips were very dry. And, unable to stop staring at her, he licked his lips. And… she licked her lips. And Harry suddenly felt a growing disturbance in his pants.
He swallowed nervously and looked over at Madam Pomfrey who'd been saying something.
"– I'll have to get Severus to come and look. I should be able to call on our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but I wouldn't trust that woman to light a lamp."
And Madam Pomfrey walked off to her office.
Harry covered up his arm and looked at the clipboard. There were two rows of not-really-runes. Which might as well be gobbledegook, he though morosely.
Greengrass moved. His eyes saw her approach the trolley, and she looked at the code.
"Yours is nonsense too" she said.
"Did you have any other cursed scars appear?" asked Angelina.
"No" said Daphne Greengrass "This is unsightly enough. And permanent. I'm marked with his name, forever. People will think we're – " Harry found himself staring at her face as she talked. Her lips. Her pink lips. Her teeth. Harry zoned out for a bit.
She finished talking " – something. Tragic gits at the very least."
"Well, maybe you're fated to fall in love with him?" asked her sister "Lemme see?"
Daphne Greengrass was reading the runes and talking to herself silently – her lips moving.
"That's not Norse" she said. "It's a puzzle."
"I um, can't read runes, but I like puzzles" said Harry.
Daphne Greengrass picked up the quill and quickly wrote English letters under the two lines of runes. Harry stared. He recognised the handwriting. It was the handwriting on his wrist. His right hand clutched his wrist reflexively.
"You wrote my scar" he blurted out, and held up his arm as proof.
Daphne Greengrass looked over at Harry's arm and frowned "I did not – but that's like my handwriting."
"Totally yours" said Astoria "This is so cool. I'll bet it's like, your lovers names sent back in time!"
"Don't read that slush it'll rot your brain" said Daphne to her sister sharply.
"Oh it's harmless as long as you realise it's just a story" said Angelina "Harry's thinks he's got a bunch written on his back."
"Cor, we get to see his skinny chest again" said the other girl. "I'm Tracey Davis, Daphne's best friend, and given she wrote her name on your wrist – it's totally your writing, Daph. You should get your robe and shirt off. We need to see what's written on your back. I'd expect a letter from the future, explaining all this from Daphne."
"Tracey!" gasped Daphne, her cheeks going slightly pink. "You can't say that!" Harry's brain unhelpfully suggested that a blush looked really cute on Daphne Greengrass.
Madam Pomfrey came out of her office with a couple of small paper planes, that flew out of the infirmary "Well Severus and Minerva will be here presently, as she's your head of house too. Now, where were we?"
"Potter's got stuff on his back we need to read. I'll bet it's a letter from Daphne. – that's totally her handwriting on his wrist" said Tracey Davis, and she grinned. Harry was chilling reminded of the Weasley twins, just before they unleashed something awful.
"Potter, come to your favourite bed. I'll examine your back" said Madam Pomfrey. Harry stood still and slid his sleeve down, and shook his head.
"Potter, I was not asking. I'll screen it off, for your modesty." said Madam Pomfrey. Harry shook his head – he knew there were marks in his back… from before.
"Potter I've had to mend your entire body before, you have… had no marks I hadn't already seen. Get moving, or you'll be staying overnight… regardless."
Harry went and took off his robe, Madam Pomfrey arranged the cloth covered screens on wheels, and Harry took off his shirt. Madam Pomfrey took one look at his back and gasped.
"Is it a letter?" asked Harry. It itched.
"It's a list, somewhat blurry, but I do not know what it's about. Diary was one, what could that mean?"
Harry grabbed his shirt and hurriedly pulled it on.
"Potter I'm not done" said Madam Pomfrey tightly.
"I… I think it's a list. Of… things." said Harry "We'll need professor Dumbledore."
"Potter, every time something weird happens to you, I do not need the call the Headmaster" said Madam Pomfrey. "He'd never get anything done, for starters. Is that scar hurting?"
'No, but the one on my head is" admitted Harry.
"Sit." said Madam Pomfrey firmly. "I'll put Miss Greengrass and co. opposite."
She left and Harry sat down. Angelina ducked in "you all right?"
"There's a list on my back" said Harry "Some secret stuff, I think."
"Can you still play Quidditch?" she asked.
"Yeah" said Harry, perking up at the thought.
"Good. See you at training" she said. And winked "You want me to hang around?"
"I've had weird stuff happen before." said Harry.
"Look, the romance novels wrist names turn up in… they're the worst trash for lonely witches. Don't believe she's the one for you just cos she wrote on your arm." said Angelina.
"It'll depend on the list" said Harry. "Thanks for um, bringing me, I suppose."
"Well, it's how you met your Mrs Potter" said Angelina, with a grin, and she left.
She spent entirely too much time with the Weasley twins, thought Harry.
The infirmary doors opened, and Harry heard Professor McGonagall and Snape arguing.
Professor McGonagall was saying "There is no way Harry Potter would do such a thing Severus. Let alone that I doubt he has ever read a novel, let alone some slushy trash for middle-aged withces!"
Harry felt a little indignation. He could so have read a novel.
"The boy is like his father, a rule-breaker who scoffs at authority." said Snape. I love you too, thought Harry sourly.
"Severus, Minerva," said Madam Pomfrey "Potter and Greengrass the older presented with cursed scars on their wrists that appeared during the feast. Potter's got her handwriting on his wrist. They both also have a list of rune-like marks that make no sense under the names. Potter, additionally has a list of things written on his back in cursed scars. He wants Albus to deal with that."
"Typical" said Snape "And they are cursed scars?"
"Quite a lot like a cursed quill might make" said Madam Pomfrey. Harry shuffled closer to the screens to hear better.
"They are also both cursed, and I've never seen the like of it. And no Severus, not that." said Madam Pomfrey.
"Potter is of course to blame" said Snape. "Where is he?"
"On the right" said Madam Pomfrey.
Snape barged in just as Harry dashed back and sat on the bed and tried to look innocent.
"What's on your back, Potter?" asked Snape.
"Well I don't know, seeing that I don't have eyes on the back of my head" said Harry.
"Shirt off" snapped Snape.
"Are you all right Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall loudly, not coming in.
"It stung, but it just aches now." said Harry.
Snape strode over, robes swirling "Shirt!" he snapped.
Harry undid his shirt and took it off and turned his back on Snape.
"Merlin preserve us, It's enormous" said Professor McGonagall. "A six-inch essay!"
"Yet nearly illegible" said Snape "And not his writing" he added.
"Who could possibly have done this" said Professor McGonagall.
"Granger is not responsible" said Snape "He'd be covered in writing." he added "It's not in her hand."
Snape summoned the trolley with an 'Accio Trolley' and took notes.
"Potter, What's the room of requirement?" asked Snape.
"I have no idea, Sir" said Harry.
"Well you have instructions for finding it… and some other things on your back."
"We need Albus." said Professor McGonagall "The lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw."
"And we need to know what a horpuck is." said Snape "Potter, put your shirt on."
Harry put his shirt on and sat on the bed, and got to watch Professor McGonagall and Snape gesticulating at the parchment on the trolley.
"Can I read it?" asked Harry "Seeing it's on my back?"
"Potter, sit down and shut up" said Snape. "You have the name of one of my students on your wrist. I do not take that sort of harassment lightly."
"Severus!" said Professor McGonagall "It's not his doing."
"Check Greengrass." said Snape. "I have a suspicion this is the worst idiocy."
Professor McGonagall left and moment later she called out "That is not Harry's handwriting. Someone else, probably a girl" said Professor McGonagall.
"It's not mine" shouted Tracey Davis.
"Or mine" shouted Astoria.
"Shut up" said Snape, staring at the parchment. "Oh you bloody fools!" he exclaimed "That is a stupid code. And a feckless thing to do!" How the hell had Snape read that?
"It's a code. What does it say?" asked Harry, unable to hold it in. He got up but Snape shoved him back onto the bed. "Never mind" he said, glaring at Harry. "I thought this year could not get any worse. Yet here I am with you. I hate you, Potter."
"I had worked that out" said Harry.
Snape drew his wand and suddenly, glowing silver smoke shot out, and formed a deer. The deer danced around a little, like Prongs, but with no antlers, and then Snape twisted his wand. The Patronus – for that's what it simply had to be, trotter in mid-air over to Snape.
"Go to Albus Dumbledore. Come immediately to the infirmary, Potter has made things even worse." The deer's ear flicked, and it bounded off, and a faint feeling of… warmth and security that Harry had hardly noticed, faded.
"Mine's a stag" said Harry "Like my dad's animagus form."
"Don't brag Potter, nobody likes you" said Snape, and he glared at the parchment, as if willing it to change.
Harry heard Professor Dumbledore come in, loudly greeting Professor McGonagall "Minerva?"
"Severus is with Potter to the right" said Professor McGonagall.
Professor Dumbledore came through the screens on wheels, and looked at Harry "Harry" he said, and looked at Snape "What's going on, Severus?"
"Read a transcript of a cursed scar that just appeared on Potter's back," said Snape.
Professor Dumbledore frowned slightly, then stepped over and looked at the parchment. He froze, and touched the parchment "You're sure?" he asked quietly.
"And Potter and Greengrass have half each of this silly puzzle – this is the plaintext I could get out of it." said Snape.
"Oh dear." said Professor Dumbledore slowly "Still, let us look on the bright side."
"Bright side?"
"Tom has suffered a setback, possibly a pivotal one" said Professor Dumbledore.
"And the rest?" asked Snape.
"We must investigate. And perhaps the curse on the Defence position can finally be lifted." said Professor Dumbledore.
"And my student?" said Snape.
"We only know the minimum. Whoever wrote this essay wanted, I suppose to leave young mister Potter with some skin unmarked."
"The name in his wrist is Daphne Greengrass and it is her handwriting" said Snape "His back is a different hand."
"So a group of well-meaning, if… slightly dark allies" said Professor Dumbledore "And we might as well have an adventure, and find the items described in this remarkably concise letter."
"What about the boy?"
"Why, Severus, he should come with us. Miss Greengrass should be kept … till we return with more information."
Harry sighed. An 'adventure' with Snape sounded terrible.
