CHAPTER 45: SLYTHERIN COMPARTMENTS

As Harry settled into the compartment, Astoria stood up and gave him an affectionate hug, her earlier intimidating demeanor replaced by warmth and friendliness. Beside her sat an auburn-haired, willowy girl whom Harry assumed was Tracey, a new addition to their group.

With a sense of relief, Harry relaxed into the seat, grateful to have resolved the tension and eager to get to know Daphne's friends better. As the train rumbled on towards Hogwarts, he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the adventures that awaited them in the new school year.

"Potter," Tracey nodded curtly as Harry settled into the compartment.

"Davis," Harry returned the greeting with a polite nod, acknowledging the presence of Daphne's friend.

Daphne, looking visibly awkward about the entire situation, spoke up. "Let's just... sit down."

Harry empathized with her. It wasn't every day that a Slytherin offered the Boy-Who-Lived a seat amidst other Slytherins inside the compartment. He couldn't help but wonder how Malfoy would react to such a scene. Luckily, Astoria's voice broke the tense silence.

"Where's your owl, Harry?" Astoria inquired, breaking the tension with her innocent curiosity.

Daphne blinked and looked around, as if only now realizing Harry's lack of companions. "Yeah, and your trunk," she added.

"I shrunk it. And Hedwig is flying to Hogwarts," Harry explained.

"Oh," Astoria pouted, her disappointment evident. "I liked that owl. She's beautiful."

Harry smiled at her fondly. "I'll tell Hedwig you said that."

"Think she'll let me pet her?" Astoria asked eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Harry lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "I dunno. Hedwig's not great with unfamiliar people. Petting offers that come with bacon have a better chance at success," he joked, earning a small chuckle from the others.

Astoria's eyes lit up with curiosity, and she leaned in closer, her grin widening. "So, how was the summer like? After the party?"

Harry chuckled wryly, a hint of weariness in his expression. "Oh, you know, a lot of reading, a lot of spell-practice, and occasional flashes of pure terror."

Astoria's gaze flicked from Harry to Daphne, silently questioning if Harry was being serious. He was. The summer spent with Sirius had been intense, to say the least. While Harry cherished his time with his godfather, Sirius had a rather unorthodox approach to training. Instead of the typical teacher-student dynamic, Sirius adopted a more aggressive and demanding style, reminiscent of a military trainer.

Harry couldn't help but grimace as he remembered the grueling training sessions. Sirius believed in pushing Harry to his limits, often pushing him beyond what he thought was possible. From physical exercises to dueling practice, Sirius left no stone unturned in preparing Harry for the dangers that lurked outside Hogwarts' walls.

"Sirius was training me in defense," Harry clarified, his voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "After the Third Task, he decided Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore. Something about weak-willed Imperius victims and sore losers. Didn't help that I was attacked in Diagon Alley," Harry continued, his tone growing somber. "Pucey, Urquhart, and Murk... they attacked me. They didn't exactly have Death Eater masks, but they got the vibe right."

Astoria's expression shifted from curiosity to concern as she listened to Harry's account. It was clear that the events of the summer had left their mark on him, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her friend.

"Urquhart attacked you?" Daphne's voice trembled with disbelief as she stood up, her eyes wide with concern.

Tracey nodded solemnly. "Guess we know why Moon was visiting St. Mungo's," she remarked. "When did this happen?"

"A week before we went to your place for the meeting," Harry replied, recalling the events with a grimace.

Astoria's brow furrowed in confusion. "But... why?" she asked, her voice tinged with bewilderment.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Couldn't be bothered to ask," he admitted bluntly. "After you've been through the shit I have, you stop questioning the hows and the whys and jump straight to spells. Maybe you should ask Parkinson for an insider story," he added with a hint of sarcasm.

As if on cue, Pansy reentered the compartment, her presence adding to the already tense atmosphere. "Wow," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I leave for two minutes, and already I'm a Death Eater in training."

Harry met Pansy's glare with a cold stare of his own. "I don't know," he replied callously. "Should I demand your left arm be checked?" His words were laced with bitterness, a reminder of the scars left by the Dark Mark.

Daphne's voice cut through the tension, her tone pleading for peace. "Harry, please," she implored. "We need to stop being so confrontational. Pansy, that goes for you too. If all you wanted was to annoy him, you could do it without this much drama."

Pansy's expression softened slightly at Daphne's words, and she begrudgingly took a seat next to her friend, her gaze lingering on Harry with a mixture of resentment and curiosity.

Suddenly, Tracey spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence. "Say, Potter," she began, her tone thoughtful. "What made you change this summer? Taking up lordships, crafting alliances, hosting parties... it seems entirely different from the Harry Potter we know. Like, Greengrass spends the last four years hating you, and now you're..." She trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Harry glanced at Daphne and noticed her scowl directed at her feet. "My alliance and relationship with Daphne is entirely personal," he began, addressing Tracey's inquiry. "But as you might have heard, I came into my inheritance this summer and learned about my Greengrass ancestry. It wasn't something I had considered much before, until Joshua invited me to Greengrass Manor."

Pansy's eyes gleamed with interest. "Huh, didn't know that bit," she remarked. "I thought Uncle Joshua and Draco's dad were the best of friends."

Daphne, ever composed, replied, "They're associates who shared common interests. I was supposed to be married to his son. Now that things have changed, House Greengrass is allied with the new House Black. We'll just have to see how that affects the relationship between my family and Draco's."

Tracey, ever observant, pointed out, "And now you're to be wed."

Harry's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Was that a question?"

Tracey chuckled. "You caught me."

"And you've no trouble that she's a Slytherin?" Pansy inquired, her curiosity evident.

Harry shrugged, his gaze flicking to Draco. "I believe I made my stance quite evident when I graciously accepted her invitation," he replied diplomatically. "Besides, Slytherins are renowned for their resourcefulness and cunning. It would be a rather Gryffindorish move to invite the illustrious Harry Potter into a compartment filled with Slytherins, right in front of witnesses," he added, his tone teasing.

"Gryffindorish?" Pansy raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoy-like," Harry retorted with a smirk. "But yes, that works too. On another note, have you ever wondered how he ended up in Slytherin? He's practically the epitome of a Gryffindor."

Astoria, intrigued by the conversation, chimed in. "And what about you? Daphne mentioned you were on the verge of being a hatstall."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "A... a hatstall?" he echoed, clearly puzzled by the term.

Daphne clarified, "It's a term for students whose sorting takes longer than five minutes. It's quite rare, perhaps once in a decade. I believe Neville Longbottom took over four minutes. Any longer, and he might have been one."

"Probably because the Hat was contemplating if Hogwarts allowed squibs," Pansy added with a sneer, her tone dripping with disdain.

Harry felt his fists clenching at Pansy's remark, his temper flaring at the insult. But he managed to maintain his composure, reminding himself of the need to stay calm. Pansy wasn't just a mindless bully; she was up to something. Whatever her scheme entailed, it involved pushing his buttons to elicit a reaction. Harry resolved not to give her the satisfaction.

Before Pansy could say anything more, Daphne tactfully redirected the conversation. "Honestly, out of everyone, I thought you would be a prime candidate for a hatstall."

Tracey chimed in, her curiosity evident. "I thought so too, with the whole Boy-Who-Lived aura. But you were sorted in three minutes."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "Considering your reputation, the Hat must have seen quite a few paths for you."

Harry nodded, deciding to share a partial truth. "I was, actually," he admitted. "The Hat offered me Slytherin."

Astoria's eyes widened in disbelief. "Hippogriff dung! You're just messing with us," she exclaimed.

Harry chuckled, but his gaze remained steady. "No, seriously," he insisted. "The Hat told me that Slytherin would pave the way for my greatness, help me achieve everything I desired and more. It even insisted that the House was more than the negative stereotypes some students perpetuated." He paused, locking eyes with Pansy. "But, you know..." His voice trailed off, the implication clear.

Pansy's expression shifted, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. It seemed she recognized Harry's veiled reference to his encounter with Draco on the train. Harry couldn't help but wonder if she had anticipated his response, or if she was genuinely surprised by his revelation. Either way, the dynamics of their interaction had shifted once again, leaving Harry intrigued by the game of wits unfolding between them.

Daphne nodded in understanding. "You chose Gryffindor," she deduced.

Harry admitted, "I kept saying, 'Not Slytherin.' I chanted it over and over. Eventually, the Hat settled on Gryffindor."

"So it's really Draco's fault that we're on opposite sides of House lines?" Astoria remarked, her tone laced with amusement.

Harry paused for a moment, considering Astoria's words. It was the first time he had vocalized these thoughts, and he realized the truth in her observation. "It seems so," he finally replied, his voice tinged with a mix of reflection and regret. "I was a naive, frightened, easily influenced kid, and Draco rubbed me the wrong way back then. I had just learned that I was an orphan because of a dark wizard, and Ron mentioned Slytherin's reputation for producing dark wizards. But truth be told, it's the values of Slytherin that have helped me survive. Self-preservation, resourcefulness, cunning, and ambition. It's true I haven't had any friends in the House of Snakes, and I never bothered seeking the truth. I was narrow-minded, I admit, but none of the Slytherins ever came to introduce themselves either."

He cast a quick glance at Daphne, who flushed and averted her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the missed opportunities for connection.

"Maybe if I had followed the Hat, I would've discovered my Greengrass lineage right from the start," Harry reflected, his thoughts drifting to what could have been. "Explored my family roots. I wouldn't have had to endure those Muggle relatives every summer."

"Sister wouldn't have had to give you the stare-down for years," Astoria quipped, injecting a touch of humor into the conversation.

Daphne shot her younger sister a sharp glare, but the corners of her lips twitched in a hint of a smile, acknowledging the truth in Astoria's jest. Despite the weight of their discussion, a sense of camaraderie seemed to settle among them, bridging the gap between their respective Houses, if only for a moment.

Tracey's remark drew laughter from the group, lightening the mood in the compartment. "I think it's a good thing you didn't end up in Slytherin," she remarked. "It would've been a nightmare to witness Professor Snape deducting points from his own House."

Harry chuckled at the thought. "He'd probably have attempted to expel me right after the Sorting."

"Harry Potter in Slytherin," Tracey laughed. "Now that would've been something."

Harry smirked, playing along with the jest. "Yeah, the Prophet would've declared me a budding Dark Lord right off the bat."

Pansy, however, interrupted the banter with a bland tone that hinted at something more serious. "Yes, all of that's very interesting." The sudden shift in her demeanor caught Harry off guard. Whatever she had in mind, it seemed like the moment had arrived for her to reveal it. Whether it was because the stage was set or because she was growing impatient was yet to be seen. "Mind if I be blunt?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of challenge.

Harry blinked in surprise. A Slytherin demanding to act like a Gryffindor? It felt like a perversion of the natural order. "Sure," he replied cautiously, bracing himself for whatever Pansy had in store.

As laughter filled the compartment, Astoria's giggle added a light-hearted tone to the conversation, momentarily easing the tension. "Very weird stuff," she emphasized, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Very, very weird stuff," Harry chimed in, a playful gleam in his eyes as he joined in the banter.

Pansy, however, remained unfazed by the jovial atmosphere, her words cutting through the laughter like a sharp knife. Her drawl dripped with accusation as she addressed Harry. "Funny," she began, her tone laced with disdain, "but I am not her. I know you're up to something, and you've got her and her dad in a twist. Self-defense or not, you killed fourteen purebloods in one night and stole their magic. I don't know what you're fooling Daphne with, but I'd rather not see her around someone like that."

Before Daphne could intervene, Harry raised a hand, silently signaling for her to let Pansy speak. "Let her speak," he said calmly, his expression unreadable.

"I know you and Black think that with so many people dead, you and Dumbledore will have the Wizengamot to yourself. Well, guess what? You won't. We won't be letting you turn this world into a damned magical copy of the Muggle world," Pansy continued, her words sharp and resolute, revealing a depth of conviction that left no room for doubt.

As Pansy's words hung heavy in the air, Harry felt a surge of clarity wash over him. It wasn't about trivial misunderstandings or House affiliations; it was about protection, safety, and the looming conflict that threatened to tear their world apart.

"Lines will be drawn, you say," Harry responded, his tone measured as he addressed Pansy. "And you're afraid it will trap Daphne in between sides. You're right. You and I will probably be on opposing ends, but guess what? That guy you call a Dark Lord, Tom Riddle? He's not on anyone's side but his own. He doesn't intend to lead you into some pureblood utopia. All he wants is to murder, kill, and gain power for himself. And if you cannot see it, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

Pansy stood up, her gaze unwavering. "Does that mean you won't let Daphne go?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Harry held her gaze for a moment, weighing his words carefully before responding. "No," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "I won't let her go. But not for the reasons you think. I won't abandon her to face this world alone. We may have our differences, but I won't leave her to fend for herself in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty. And if that means we'll be on opposing sides, then so be it. But I won't let fear dictate our choices."

Pansy's expression softened slightly, her demeanor shifting as she processed Harry's words. "You're a fool, Potter," she remarked quietly, a hint of resignation in her voice. "But perhaps a noble one."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the compartment, leaving Harry and the others in a moment of uneasy silence.

Harry felt a knot tightening in his stomach as Pansy's words cut through the air like a sharp blade. He struggled to find his voice, his mind racing to process the accusation thrown at him. His encounters with Fleur over the summer were innocent, but he couldn't deny the growing connection between them.

"Daphne is her own person," Harry stated firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "She came into my life by her own volition, and if she leaves, it'll be on her own terms. I'm not deciding for her."

Pansy's sickeningly sweet smile only widened, her tone laced with malice. "What a nice way to phrase that. Of course, you'd want her to walk out of her own volition. When would that be, I wonder? Before or after the veela's shifted to your bedroom?"

Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks, a mixture of anger and embarrassment flooding his senses. "That's not—" he began, his words trailing off as he struggled to form a coherent response.

Pansy sneered at him, her contempt palpable. "Don't hide it, Potter. I'm sure you think you're clever enough to hide it. But you're wrong. I've spotted you in Diagon Alley with that veela wench all over the summer. Dating. Are you really telling me you and Delacour are not seeing each other behind Daphne's back?"

Harry clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with frustration. He wanted to refute Pansy's accusations, to defend himself against her insinuations. But as he glanced at Daphne, he saw the doubt in her eyes, the uncertainty that lingered between them. No doubt Pansy's words had planted seeds of doubt in her mind, poisoning their relationship with suspicion and mistrust.

He swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to lash out in anger. Instead, he met Daphne's gaze with a mixture of remorse and determination. "Daphne," he began, his voice soft yet resolute. "I swear to you, there's nothing between Fleur and me. Whatever Pansy thinks she saw, it's not what she thinks. You have to believe me."

Daphne searched his eyes for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, she turned away, her silence weighing heavily in the air. Harry felt a pang of guilt gnawing at him, knowing that their relationship had been tainted by doubt and suspicion. But he refused to let Pansy's words destroy what they had built together. He would fight to earn back her trust, no matter the cost.

The compartment fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Harry's admission hanging in the air like a thick fog. Daphne's expression remained unreadable, her eyes betraying a tumult of emotions she struggled to contain. Astoria's concern deepened, her brows furrowing with worry, while Pansy's grin widened into a triumphant smirk.

Tracey's exclamation broke the tense silence, her blunt reaction serving as a stark reminder of the gravity of Harry's confession. It was as if the walls of the compartment had closed in around them, suffocating Harry with the weight of his own words.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have told you sooner."

Daphne's gaze flickered to his face, her features etched with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. "How long?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Harry hesitated, the weight of his guilt threatening to crush him. "Since the summer," he admitted, his voice laced with remorse. "It wasn't planned. It just... happened."

A heavy silence settled over the compartment once more, the air thick with tension as the implications of Harry's revelation hung between them. He could feel Daphne's eyes boring into him, her silence more damning than any words she could have spoken.

Pansy's smirk widened into a triumphant grin, her victory palpable as she watched the scene unfold before her. Astoria's concern deepened, her eyes darting between Harry and her sister, as if searching for a way to diffuse the tension.

Harry braced himself for Daphne's response, knowing that their relationship would never be the same again. He had betrayed her trust, shattered the fragile bond they had built between them. And as he met her gaze, he knew that there was no going back.

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