Chapter 1 - A Second Beginning

Awakening felt like surfacing from a deep, endless ocean, gasping for air in a world both familiar and strange. Harry found himself lying on the thin mattress of his small cupboard at Privet Drive. The space was narrow and confining, and the walls seemed to press inward, reminding him of both a life he had left behind and one he had lived long ago. His heart pounded as he registered the details around him—the dim light filtering through the tiny slats in the door, the smell of dust, and the scratchy, worn blanket draped over him.

This can't be real…

Harry's hands trembled as he held them up to his face, examining the small, soft fingers of a child. He touched his face, feeling the roundness of youth and the smoothness that had not yet been touched by the scars of battle. The memory of his final moments flooded back to him—Lucius Malfoy, the flash of green light, the heavy darkness that had swallowed him whole. And now… this?

He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling his heart gradually slow as he processed the impossible reality. He was back. Not just back at Privet Drive, but back in his seven-year-old body, reliving the life he thought had ended. Part of him wanted to shout in disbelief, to try and shake himself awake from what felt like an elaborate dream. Yet the weight of reality was undeniable, grounding him to the present with a gravity he couldn't ignore.

Across the country, Daphne Greengrass awoke in her bed at Greengrass Manor. Her room was luxurious, adorned with rich tapestries and polished wood furniture, a stark contrast to Harry's cramped cupboard. But like him, she felt the disorientation of waking up somewhere she had long since left behind. Her last memories were of Draco Malfoy's cold eyes, the deadly flash of his wand, and the sensation of falling as her world faded to black.

Yet now, she was here, back in her childhood room, surrounded by the familiar scents and sounds of her family's manor. Daphne sat up slowly, her mind racing as she took in the sight of her small hands, the soft linen of her nightdress, and the innocence of her surroundings. It felt both alien and nostalgic, like stepping into a portrait she had once known well but could no longer recognize as her own.

It wasn't a dream… she realized, the weight of the truth settling over her. I'm truly back.

As the initial shock began to wear off, Daphne felt a strange sense of clarity. This wasn't simply a second chance at life; it was an opportunity to change everything. To right the wrongs, to take control of her fate, and to stand alongside someone who understood the burden of what lay ahead.

A whisper flickered through her mind, faint but unmistakable. "Are you there?"

Daphne's breath hitched as she focused on the voice, one that was both familiar and foreign in its softness. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind, feeling the connection that had been granted to them by Death.

"I'm here," she replied, her mental voice steady, yet carrying an undertone of wonder.

Across the distance, Harry felt a surge of relief at her response. He hadn't fully understood the extent of the connection Death had granted them, but this mental link felt as real and as tangible as any conversation he'd ever had.

"So…it's true, then," he ventured, the disbelief clear in his thoughts. "We're…back."

"Yes," Daphne confirmed, a sense of resolve strengthening her words. "And we can't waste this chance. We have to be careful, Harry. Dumbledore…"

The name of the old headmaster, once revered, now lingered like a shadow in Harry's mind. There was a time when Dumbledore had been the figure of wisdom and guidance, a mentor in every sense of the word. But those illusions had long since shattered, revealing the manipulative tendencies that had twisted Harry's life into a series of sacrifices for the so-called "greater good."

"We'll be ready this time," Harry responded, a fierce determination coloring his thoughts. "We know what he's capable of."

For a moment, they both fell silent, sharing a moment of understanding that only they could fully grasp. In their past lives, they had been used, manipulated, and betrayed in ways they hadn't even fully realized until the very end. But this time, they would seize control.

They had come back as children, but each of them carried a lifetime's worth of strength, knowledge, and the scars of hardship that would shape their paths forward. The weight of their purpose settled heavily on their young shoulders, but it felt oddly comforting. They were not alone. In this strange, second life, they had found an ally in each other—a bond stronger than friendship and deeper than fate itself.

Settling into their younger lives was like navigating a dream both foreign and familiar. Harry's days at Privet Drive blurred together, a pattern of routines that felt all too reminiscent of his past—chores, insults, and the cold stares of the Dursleys. Yet, this time, Harry observed everything with a renewed clarity, like an outsider studying an exhibit. Every harsh word, every dismissive look from Petunia or Vernon, only strengthened his resolve.

With memories of his past life vivid in his mind, Harry no longer felt the sting of the Dursleys' mistreatment as he once had. Instead, he spent his days subtly testing the limits of his new situation, gauging the strength of his young body and gradually working toward physical strength and agility. In the privacy of his cramped cupboard, he practiced basic exercises, determined to build himself up. He wasn't just the frail, overlooked boy they thought he was—not this time.

At Greengrass Manor, Daphne was undergoing her own transformation. Her family expected grace, obedience, and a strict adherence to pure-blood traditions. While she played the role expected of her, Daphne's mind was constantly at work, weaving plans and mentally cataloging resources she might later draw upon. She moved through the manor with careful purpose, her eyes keen and observant.

Daphne also took advantage of her family's extensive library, diving into texts on magical theory, history, and potion-making. Each night, when the house had settled into silence, she read by the dim glow of a single candle, meticulously noting any knowledge she believed might prove useful. Her parents had always prided themselves on her education, yet they had no idea just how far her understanding had developed.

Through their mental link, Harry and Daphne exchanged thoughts and strategies each evening, both feeling the comfort of knowing they weren't alone. They shared their frustrations, small victories, and the realizations that came from seeing their lives through this new, mature lens.

"Are you managing alright?" Harry asked one evening, his concern evident in the warmth of his mental voice.

Daphne took a moment to respond, her thoughts carefully measured. "Yes. My parents expect the perfect daughter, the dutiful heiress to the Greengrass line. But they have no idea what's truly going on in my mind. It's strange, really…to live in the same place but feel so removed from it."

Harry understood exactly what she meant. "I know what you mean. Being here again, with the Dursleys—it feels like I'm watching my life from the outside. But I'm using it to my advantage. They think they're keeping me small, but I'm already stronger than they know."

Their mutual resolve grew with each conversation, solidifying their commitment to the task ahead. They weren't just children; they were two souls with lifetimes' worth of knowledge and power, ready to shape their fates according to their own designs.


Over the next few weeks, Harry and Daphne began testing the boundaries of their abilities. Though wandless magic was still limited, Harry found he could coax a faint glow from his fingertips with intense concentration. He practiced at night, making sure the cupboard door was firmly shut and the Dursleys fast asleep before he dared even the smallest spell. With each attempt, he felt a tingling warmth build within him—a hum of power that, though faint, was undeniably present. The sensation reminded him of the magical prowess he had honed over years, and it fueled his determination to reclaim that strength.

One night, after successfully summoning a flicker of light, he sent a triumphant thought to Daphne. "I managed it—wandless Lumos, though it's faint. But it's a start!"

Daphne's response was immediate, a spark of shared excitement lighting her thoughts. "That's incredible, Harry. If we keep working, we might be able to control basic spells before Hogwarts. Think of the advantage we'll have."

Encouraged, Daphne began her own experiments in secret. Potion-making became her focus, as she could hide ingredients and supplies more easily than wands or spellwork. She brewed simple, harmless potions under the cover of night, refining her technique and testing her ability to control precise measurements and temperatures. The process felt like meditation—a way to channel her growing knowledge and sharpen her senses. She'd grown up watching her family brew complex potions, but now she was motivated by her own purpose, each successful brew a testament to her growing independence.

One evening, as she finished a calming draught without a single error, she reached out to Harry, her pride evident. "These are basic potions, but I'm getting faster and more accurate. I think…eventually, I can make something to boost our endurance or focus—maybe even potions to protect us against spells."

Harry considered this, nodding in approval. "Every step counts. Imagine what we could accomplish at Hogwarts with these skills. Together, we're already achieving more than we could have on our own."

Their bond deepened with each shared success, and the mental link between them grew stronger, allowing them to exchange not only thoughts but emotions and intentions. The comfort they found in each other's presence, even from afar, became a source of strength neither of them had anticipated. Each accomplishment, however small, felt monumental, as if they were reclaiming pieces of themselves that had been lost.

Harry pushed himself further each night, attempting to control other basic spells. Occasionally, he managed to create a faint, shimmering barrier or summon a gust of wind strong enough to ruffle his blanket. These were fleeting victories, but they filled him with a sense of hope he hadn't known since he'd woken up in his cupboard.

Daphne, too, expanded her reach. She began experimenting with medicinal herbs and rudimentary healing potions, envisioning a future where they might need such skills. Every drop measured, every herb ground into powder felt like a step closer to a world where they would no longer be at the mercy of others. The act of mastering these skills became a source of pride, a reminder that they were no longer helpless children, but young, powerful minds with a shared goal.


As summer pressed on, their conversations turned increasingly toward Hogwarts. They began outlining their goals, the alliances they hoped to build, and the obstacles they would need to avoid. Both agreed they would start with subtle changes, weaving themselves into the fabric of Hogwarts life without drawing undue attention.

"We need allies we can trust, but they'll have to be carefully chosen," Daphne said one evening, her tone thoughtful. "We can't risk people who might be easily influenced by Dumbledore."

"Agreed," Harry replied, thinking back on the friendships of his previous life. "Neville Longbottom could be a good start. He was loyal and brave, even if he struggled. With a bit of support, he could become a strong ally."

Daphne considered this, nodding. "Yes. And we should be cautious with people like Weasley and Granger. They were quick to follow Dumbledore's lead without question. We need allies who are strong enough to think for themselves, who won't fall in line with someone else's agenda."

Harry hesitated, memories of Ron and Hermione surfacing. They had been his friends, almost like family, but he understood Daphne's reasoning. "You're right," he finally responded, the reluctance in his thoughts evident. "We can't afford the Headmas—Dumbledore, knowing what we are planning. We can't afford any loose ties—not this time."

Their thoughts turned to professors and the role they might play in their education. Daphne suggested reaching out to Professor Flitwick, who had always seemed fair-minded and skillful with defensive magic. Harry, remembering Flitwick's reputation as a dueling champion, agreed that learning from him might be invaluable. They both agreed that Snape, despite his loyalty to Dumbledore, was another potential resource if handled carefully.

"We'll have to approach them slowly, gain their trust," Daphne noted. "Even if we never fully reveal our goals, earning their favor could be useful."

When it came to Professor Sprout, Harry paused, his mind flickering with memories from his fourth year. During the Triwizard Tournament, while he'd endured the scorn and disbelief of his fellow students, even Hufflepuffs—loyal, supposedly fair-minded Hufflepuffs—had joined in. Harry had been bewildered and hurt by the cruelty, but more painful had been the fact that Professor Sprout had stood by, not lifting a finger to rein in her house. She had said nothing as her own students openly mocked him, joining the taunts that labeled him a liar and a cheat.

"I don't know about Sprout," Harry admitted, a bitter edge in his tone. "She didn't just stay quiet during the tournament; she let her own house mock and bully me. I never once saw her stop a single Hufflepuff from calling me a liar. It's hard to trust someone who could turn a blind eye to that."

Daphne thought for a moment. "I understand that. But Sprout is different from most professors; she's kind-hearted and nurturing. She might be someone we could eventually sway if we handle things carefully."

Harry frowned, not entirely convinced. "Maybe, but she let me fend for myself back then. If we can't count on her loyalty, how much help can she really be?"

Daphne responded thoughtfully. "True, but if we gain her respect, she could be a strong ally. Sprout cares deeply about her students, and that loyalty could work in our favor—especially if she comes to see us as more than just another set of Gryffindor and Slytherin students."

Harry sighed, feeling his lingering resentment soften, albeit begrudgingly. Perhaps Sprout's loyalty wasn't as fickle as he'd thought; maybe she'd acted out of pressure or ignorance. "Alright," he conceded. "We'll approach her carefully, see if we can win her over without sharing too much. But I'm not going to trust her blindly—not after everything that happened."

With Daphne's reassurances and his own cautious acceptance, they agreed to keep their distance at first, feeling out Sprout's loyalties before committing to anything. Harry couldn't entirely let go of the past, but for now, he resolved to at least consider her as a potential ally.

Their thoughts also turned to Professors Sinistra and Vector, two teachers largely uninvolved in the daily political currents that ran through the school. Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, had always been private and professional, her focus solely on her subject. The same could be said for Professor Vector, who taught Arithmancy with precision and a respect for the ancient mathematical arts that intrigued both Harry and Daphne. In both professors, they saw the potential for mentorship in skills few wizards pursued at an advanced level.

"Sinistra's independence might work in our favor," Daphne observed. "She's an outsider even among the staff, and her knowledge of astronomy and magical navigation could be useful."

"And Vector is similar," Harry added, thinking back to the subtle ways in which Arithmancy influenced ancient magic. "If we can gain her respect, we might be able to tap into Arithmancy at a level most students wouldn't even consider. Both of them might appreciate students who show genuine interest."

They agreed to approach Professors Sinistra and Vector subtly, hoping to gain their respect through dedication rather than any attempt at direct persuasion. To that end, Harry decided he would join Daphne in both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. The subjects were rarely taken up by Gryffindors, but the potential in these disciplines for accessing older, more powerful magic was too valuable to pass up. They could work together, pooling their knowledge and insights as they learned, strengthening both their bond and their expertise.

Their strategic planning was taking shape, with each professor's strengths and potential loyalties carefully noted. For the first time, Hogwarts felt like more than just a school; it was becoming the first stage for the lives they intended to rebuild.


With each passing day, Harry and Daphne became increasingly aware of the unique bond they shared. The mental link between them provided solace, strength, and a level of understanding that words could not capture. It was a connection beyond simple friendship or loyalty; it was as though they were two halves of a single purpose, each amplifying the other's resolve.

One evening, Daphne recalled an article from years ago in the Daily Prophet that had hinted at a prophecy involving Harry and Voldemort. The specifics had always been a mystery, but it was clear that whatever bound them ran deeper than mere enmity.

"Harry… there was something about a prophecy between you and Voldemort in the Daily Prophet," she began tentatively, feeling out his reaction through their link. "Is there more to your connection with him?"

Harry felt a pang of hesitation but knew Daphne deserved the truth if they were to truly stand together. With a steadying breath, he considered her question. Voldemort was gone, at least for now, and with Occlumency training, he could ensure no one would see his thoughts. "There is a prophecy," he admitted slowly, his thoughts heavy with the memory of those fateful words. "The prophecy says: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.'"

Daphne absorbed the words in silence, the weight of them settling between them. "So… it's you. And this bond, this power you spoke of—it could be that strength he doesn't know. Maybe it's tied to the mind, to something deeper than magic alone."

Harry considered her insight, his thoughts swirling with a mix of resolve and uncertainty. "You might be right," he replied, slowly piecing together her theory. "Dumbledore is a master Legilimens, and Voldemort… Tom and I had a connection, a Horcrux."

Daphne's eyes widened at the word. "A Horcrux? So he left a piece of himself… inside you?" Her shock was laced with understanding as she connected it to Harry's strange bond with Voldemort in their former lives. "That's why you could feel his thoughts and emotions? It wasn't just a connection—it was a part of his soul?"

Harry nodded, feeling the darkness of the truth settle over them. "Yes. Voldemort split his soul to make himself immortal, and one of those pieces was in me. It's why I could sometimes sense him, feel what he felt. That part of him lived in me, and it's a secret we kept guarded. Only my closest friends knew."

Daphne's initial shock gave way to a fierce determination. "Then we can't let anything remain. You need to be free of his influence completely, and if mastering Occlumency is the only way, we'll make sure no trace of him can reach you."

Their resolve deepened as they committed to shielding their minds. Together, they would work on their mental control, using their bond to fortify their Occlumency and protect one another. During training, they discovered that emotions often slipped through the link unintentionally, flowing seamlessly between their thoughts. When Harry's frustration with the Dursleys grew overwhelming, Daphne would feel it immediately, instinctively sending him calm. Likewise, when Daphne felt the weight of her family's expectations, Harry's unwavering strength found its way into her mind, steadying her resolve.

At times, these emotions passed between them so naturally that they became like a shared language, a rhythm that blended their experiences. Moments of pain, triumph, and quiet joy mingled in a way neither could explain, creating an intimacy that transcended even friendship. Through each silent exchange, they grew to understand each other's struggles, each feeling the weight the other carried without words.

In moments of silence, they would simply sit within the link, feeling the quiet assurance of each other's presence. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced, an intimacy that felt as natural as breathing. They had become more than allies—they were two souls bound by mutual understanding and a shared history that no one else could comprehend.

It was this bond that fueled their confidence and allowed them to face their challenges, knowing they were never truly alone. Each accomplishment, whether a spell or a strategy, felt like a step they had taken together. With every word and emotion shared, they felt their resolve deepen, the connection between them solidifying in a way that made them more than just two determined individuals. They were a unified force, bound by trust and purpose, ready to reshape the lives they had once lived alone.


Four years pass as Harry and Daphne each work on different aspects of their magic that they specialise in. Harry the more practical side, while Daphne the more subtle side. They both excel in their training, to the point that Harry is working at the level of a NEWT Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms student, while Daphne, a seventh-year Potioneer and herbologist, all using only wandless magic, using their body as a conduit for them to channel their magic. They help each other grow, as their shared determination aids them in working harder than the day before, for four years straight...

They both became Master Occlumens, able to shield their minds through absolutely anything, Imperio and Confundus would never be able to take ahold of their lives anymore. Through Daphne's aid, Harry managed to get to a fourth-year understanding in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Daphne intentionally did not study much in either as she wished to be at Harry's level for when they went into their third year. Neither knew why she did that, but unbeknownst to either of them, Daphne and Harry were slowly developing feelings for each other...