And the finale draws nearer.
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The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Serpentine Stone
VIII. The Defense Professor
Harry's eyes slowly forced themselves open. He glanced around the room, accepting Professor Baker's helping hand as he pushed himself off the ground.
"Not bad." she complimented, studying him carefully as he straightened up, "Not bad at all. You've been practicing, haven't you?"
Harry nodded silently.
"It shows." said Professor Baker, "There were a few times when you surprised me - you nearly got the upper hand on me once. It's quite impressive, especially for someone your age."
"I didn't think the curse would come so close to hitting you." panted Harry.
"Neither did I." admitted Baker, "I should've known better than to wave my hand about any more than strictly needed - I hurt it the other day. Those are the things you've got to learn, though - play to your strengths, not your weaknesses. Mistakes like that can cost you your life."
Harry nodded, his eyes slowly landing upon the woman's hand. Professor Baker smiled.
"I'm fine, Harry." she said kindly, "But I appreciate your concern."
Professor Baker's wand soared into the air, and the room righted itself once more. Books and shelves shot back into their spots, followed by dozens of tables and the chairs that accompanied them. Harry followed after Professor Baker, watching as a pair of books banged loudly together.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was as cozy as ever. A roaring fireplace sat off to the side, and the window in the corner overlooked the Hogwarts Grounds. Harry took the seat opposite Professor Baker, who sat behind her large mahogany desk. She lazily flicked her wand, and a box of chocolate frogs came zooming into the room. Professor Baker gently tossed one to Harry.
"I've not eaten these as often at most." she admitted, carefully unwrapping her own chocolate frog, "Although a few of the cards are interesting enough."
She removed her card from the pack, an eyebrow raised as she gazed upon it.
"Agrippa." she said eventually, vanishing it with a wave of her wand, "You?"
"One second . . ." muttered Harry, quickly ripping the package open, "Circe."
He quickly pocketed the card before taking a bite out of the chocolate frog. Something bounced around in his stomach - its head, perhaps. Harry didn't like the feeling.
"I heard about your detention." said Professor Baker after a long moment. Harry tensed, his eyes glued to the limp body of his chocolate frog.
"Relax, Harry." she said gently, "I'm not going to reprimand you - you're smart enough to know what you did wrong. I'm talking about what happened after. In the forest, with Hagrid and the others."
Harry slowly raised his head. The faint image of a woman in pitch black robes swam through his mind.
"I'm fine." he said quietly, "She - whoever she was - only used a Stunning Curse."
"That's good to hear." said Professor Baker, "And the centaur? Firenze?"
"He was the one who brought us back." said Harry, "He found us passed out, I think, and took us to Hagrid."
Professor Baker nodded slowly, her eyes still latched to his unmoving form. She slowly dragged her gaze away, leaning towards a desk to her right. Dainty fingers wrapped around a pair of chocolate frogs. She straightened up, tossing one to Harry and pocketing the other.
"I heard you landed a spell." she said eventually. There was a hint of amusement in her tone, and the ends of her lips curved up slightly.
Harry grinned.
"I did." he said earnestly, "It wasn't strong, mind you - but I did."
"What spell was it?" asked Professor Baker, standing up.
"The Cutting Curse." said Harry, "It's -"
"- a fourth year spell." Professor Baker for him, smiling further, "Impressive."
Harry looked away, his cheeks tinted a faint red. Professor Baker laughed softly.
"You've done so well." she said kindly, "I would have never believed you to be capable of such things."
"Er - thanks?" said Harry uncertainly.
Is that a compliment or an insult?
"It's a compliment, Harry." said Professor Baker with a laugh, "A deserved one at that, but don't let it get to your head."
"I won't." promised Harry.
"I know."
Professor Baker turned to Harry once more, and a comfortable silence fell upon them. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she watched him, a small smile forming upon her delicate features.
"It's strange, isn't it?" she said eventually, "I wouldn't have guessed I'd ever be complimenting a student, even if you were talented."
"I don't think you've ever complimented anyone." said Harry truthfully, grinning as well, "It'd be a first in history."
"I'll have to tell Binns." said Professor Baker, chuckling, "Not that he'd listen, mind you.
"But it's true." she added after some time, "You've gotten better. Your skills are finally beginning to catch up with your aptitude for magic."
"That's good." said Harry.
"It is." agreed Baker, "Your stroll through the forest is evidence enough of that."
Harry nodded, his fingers wrapped tightly around the chocolate frog in his hand. Memories of his detention swam to the surface. A dark, evil glint surrounded the countless trees, and the sound of impending danger danced around his ears. A dead unicorn lay by his feet; silvery blood wept from its wounds. It marred the forest floor, coating the thin blades of grass in thick, cursed blood.
"Professor, could I ask you something?"
"You already have." noted Baker idly, "But, solely because I am feeling generous, you may ask again."
"That woman," began Harry, "The one I saw in the forest - she was collecting Unicorn blood, wasn't she?"
"I would assume so, yes."
"Well, I was curious, so I looked into it a bit." explained Harry, "Slaying something as pure as a unicorn isn't supposed to be good. Anyone who drinks the blood of something like that - something so innocent - well, it said they'd be cursed to live a half-life. A cursed life. Who would want to live a life like that?"
Professor Baker paused. She glanced at him curiously, and her lips slowly parted.
"There are potions that can rid the effects." she muttered, "Complicated, no doubt, and equally expensive - but they most certainly exist."
"But what if you couldn't afford it?" asked Harry, "I doubt most could."
Professor Baker nodded, her fingers pressed against the desk before her as a thoughtful expression grew upon her face. When her eyes finally turned to him, they were filled with wonder.
"Do you remember the essay you handed me all those months ago?" she asked him, "Comparing and contrasting light and dark magic?"
"Er - yes?"
"What was the conclusion you reached?" inquired Baker, "What did you manage to come up with?"
"I - I didn't." muttered Harry, "I didn't know any. I still don't know why you gave me an Outstanding."
"I gave you an Outstanding, Harry, because there is no right answer." explained Professor Baker, "What I believe to be light - or in this case, right - is not the same as what you believe. What I see as dark - or wrong - differs from what you see in a similar manner. In a similar way, what I see as good differs from what you see. The same can be said about what I see as evil.
"Now then," continued Baker, "Imagine this woman thought differently than you did. Perhaps she, unlike most witches and wizards, didn't see her actions as something vile or deplorable. What do you think might happen?"
"She wouldn't be punished." guessed Harry, "She wouldn't have been cursed."
Professor Baker nodded, her eyes shining.
"Perspective is a beautiful thing, Harry." she said softly, "The tinted lens through which we see the world. Do not underestimate its significance."
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular.
"I won't."
-(xXx)-
Drops of water slid down the side of his robes, falling upon the fresh green grass. Neville shivered slightly, doing his best to ignore his slightly damp uniform.
April had arrived, as had the showers that seemed to follow in its wake. There hadn't been a rainless day in quite some time now - not that Neville minded.
The clouds are nice. Even if it is cold.
Ron groaned from his side, shaking his second-hand robes. Specks of water flew from its ends.
"As if we haven't got enough on our plates." he moaned miserably, "The weather's got it out for us, too."
"It's just a bit of rain." muttered Neville, his eyes upon the castle that stood before them. Even from here, just outside Hagrid's hut, it looked magnificent.
"For now." said Ron darkly, "Just you wait - by the time the next Quidditch match rolls around, we'll have a proper storm on our hands. We'll be sitting in the rain for hours -"
"Then don't go." said Hermione simply. Ron paused for a moment, looking dumbstruck, before turning to Neville.
"'Don't go'." he repeated, exasperated, "'Don't go' - Hermione, it's Quidditch! Besides, I reckon Fred and George would do me in if I missed it -"
"Nevermind that." interjected Hermione, "We've got more important things to worry about."
Right. The stone.
"I can't think of anyone who'd want to steal it -"
"Can't you?"
Neville and Hermione paused in their stride, both turning to face Ron. The taller redhead stared back at them, eyebrows raised.
"Who, then?"
"Snape!"
"Professor Snape, Ron." corrected Hermione irritably, "And again, it doesn't make sense -"
"Doesn't it?" asked Ron, "Hermione, he wasn't there at Halloween, and we've seen him near the third-floor corridor loads of times -"
"That doesn't make him guilty." said Hermione, frowning, "If it did, we would be prime suspects, too. There just isn't any conclusive way to find out who it is."
Ron shook his head, turning to Neville.
"What about that centaur you told us about?" he asked, "The one you saw with Malfoy - Firenze?"
Hermione looked up, turning to Neville as well.
"I told you." said Neville with a sigh, "I didn't hear what he said. Malfoy snuck up on me before he finished s-speaking."
"But he definitely said something about the Sorcerer's Stone, didn't he?"
Neville nodded slowly.
"Then let's ask him." said Ron, "He'd probably be fine with telling us."
Hermione shifted slightly, frowning again.
"I don't know." she said weakly, "The centaurs we met in the Forbidden Forest didn't seem very helpful."
"Firenze was alright." said Neville quietly, "He's the one that s-saved Malfoy and Potter."
Hermione still didn't look very convinced. Ron sighed, brushing the water off his robes once more.
"How's this," he began, facing Hermione, "we keep trying to figure it out, and if by the end of the year we haven't found anything, we go ask Firenze. How's that?"
Neville watched as Hermione slowly nodded, her bushy hair weighed down by the light rain. The ends of Ron's lips curved up into a forced smile, and he shook the water out of his robes for a third time.
"Brilliant."
-(xXx)-
Harry quickly made his way through the halls that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, ignoring the chants and cheers of his many peers.
It was the week before finals - and, coincidentally, the day of the Quidditch semi-finals. The outcome of the day's game would decide whether it would be Gryffindor or Ravenclaw that faced up against Slytherin for the Quidditch cup. It promised to be an exciting match - not that Harry would see it.
He had been rather foolish, after all.
Harry hadn't studied for his finals. He wasn't being arrogant or anything of the sort - he simply hadn't known he'd had to. He'd never had to study for his finals in primary school - they were simply given a piece of paper and an hour of time, and that was that.
That wasn't the case at Hogwarts, though. Here the finals spanned an entire week, and their tests were all far from simple. What they would be tested on, Harry didn't know - but he did know that even Crabbe and Goyle were studying hard for what was to come.
The fact that Hermione Granger had been studying for the past three months hadn't escaped Harry's notice, either (though it surprised him far less than everything else).
It was for those reasons that Harry made his way to Professor Baker's office. The woman didn't care much for Quidditch, Harry knew, and there was no one else who might be willing to help him. Nott was the only other option, but the boy was too busy studying on his own to be of much use.
Harry gently rapped his knuckles against the door of the classroom. It swung open at once, revealing none other than Professor Baker. Harry watched as she pocketed her wand, a single eyebrow raised as she rose from her seat.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Er -" began Harry certainly - the whole affair suddenly seemed far more trivial than it had a few moments prior, "I - well, I was wondering if you could help me. With my finals, that is."
For a moment, the two stared at each other, neither saying a word. The next, Professor Baker's laughter split through the silence like a knife through butter.
"I'm sure you'll be fine." assured the professor, "You'll do excellently on the practical portion, I'm sure, and the written portion isn't anything you'll have to worry about much."
"That's what I thought." said Harry quickly, "But everyone else has been studying for weeks, and I haven't done anything, I'll -"
"- do brilliantly." repeated Baker, her voice a bit more firm this time, "These aren't your O.W.L.s - as long as you've paid attention in class, a bit of revision is all you'll need. Nothing more."
"So what about everyone who's been studying for weeks?" questioned Harry quickly, "Like Hermione, I guess, or those Ravenclaws?"
Professor Baker shrugged uncaringly.
"They're overstudying." she said simply, "They find themselves so enraptured in the pursuit of knowledge that they forget to use it.
"That doesn't mean you can do poorly, mind you." added Baker, "I expect only the best from you, especially after all of your additional lessons."
Harry nodded hastily. Professor Baker smiled, plucking a pair of chocolate frogs from the corner of her desk and tossing a pack to Harry.
"Still," continued Harry as he began to unwrap his pack, "Is there anything I ought to do? I'll have to do loads of memorization for History of Magic - same with Astronomy, come to think about it."
"My knowledge on your other examinations is limited." admitted Professor Baker as she took a small bite out of her chocolate frog, "As for my own subject . . . very little comes to mind. They're first year examinations, after all."
"In general, then." said Harry, rolling his eyes, "What advice would you give me in general?"
"In general?" repeated Baker with a grin, "Address your weaknesses. Examinations and examiners look for satisfactory results, not mastery nor excellence. So long as all of your abilities are above a certain standard, you will pass with flying colours."
"Weaknesses?"
"Like I said, you will be fine." repeated Professor Baker once more, "You are many things, I am sure, but subpar is not one of them."
"I can't swim." Harry blurted out suddenly. He blushed as Professor Baker stared at him in exasperation.
"I promise you, none of your exams are to be held in the Great Lake." she said with a soft smile, "Besides, you're a remarkable flier from what I've heard. It balances out, in a rather inefficient way."
"Who told you that?"
"Madam Hooch." she said simply, "You should be proud of yourself. Your father was an excellent flier as well."
Harry beamed.
Shaking her head in amusement, Baker turned to her chocolate frog. She flipped her pack upside down, pulling out a card from within.
"Morgana. You?"
"One second." said Harry, hastily turning over his card, "Another Flamel, Nott's got a half dozen of him - wait a moment, Flamel! That's where I'd heard it from!"
"Heard what?" asked Professor Baker sharply. Her stance was tense, her casual amusement having vanished all at once. A slight prickling sensation sprung to life on Harry's forehead; he raised a hand, his pointer finger tracing the thin outline of his scar.
"The name." said Harry slowly, slightly confused, "I'd heard someone talking about it and thought it sounded familiar."
Professor Baker appraised him for a moment before nodding slowly. Harry waved in farewell, watching as she sent him a small smile.
For the first time in months, her smile didn't reach her eyes.
-(xXx)-
Harry hurried out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, having just finished his exam. He clutched the scar on his forehead. It was hurting again.
It hasn't hurt since the beginning of the school year. Why start again now?
"What's up with you?" asked Nott, walking to Harry's right. In his arms he held a small stack of textbooks, almost all of which pertained to today's exams. They slowly followed after their peers, making their way over to the Great Hall.
"I dunno." muttered Harry, "My scar, it keeps hurting. You reckon it means something?"
Nott shrugged, his eyes lined with confusion.
"I don't know much about curse scars." confessed Nott, "Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey?"
"I'm not ill." said Harry, "I just . . . I think it's a warning, like something bad's about to happen."
"What could possibly happen?" whispered Nott indifferently, "All I can think of are exams, and you've definitely done well on most of them."
"Not History of Magic, that's for sure."
"That's good." said Nott with a cheeky grin, "Nice to know I'll beat you at one of them."
"You'll beat me in Astronomy too, I spent about half an hour trying to find Uranus."
Nott laughed, shaking his head before sighing.
"Nah, I'm pants at Astronomy as well." he said, "It's those ditzy Gryffindors that'll ace that one - Brown and Patil, that's it."
Harry snorted, chuckling along with Nott before wincing. His hand still rubbed against his forehead. It hurt, far more than ever before.
"But nevermind them." said Nott, watching him closely, "I'm off to the library after lunch. I've been meaning to check out a book for a while now, but it was too cramped. You can come, if you want."
Harry nodded slowly.
Who knows. I might be able to find out a thing or two about curse scars.
-(xXx)-
As it turned out, Harry didn't learn much about curse scars - at least, nothing useful to him. He wasn't bleeding out his ears, after all, nor was he missing his hands.
At least it isn't as bad here.
And indeed it wasn't. For whatever reason, his scar hurt far less on the Hogwarts grounds then it did inside the castle itself. Still, it ached enough to count as an annoyance. Harry traced his scar with his finger, wincing as he felt a sudden sharp flare.
"Either go to Madam Pomfrey, or stop jumping around every few seconds." said Nott moodily, "I'm trying to read."
"I'm not trying to." complained Harry, "And it isn't my fault Madam Pince kicked you out of the library, you know."
Nott merely sulked, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I heard about that." said a cool voice. Harry looked up, his eyes landing on none other than Daphne Greengrass. She stood before the both of them, her eyes dull with boredom. Carefully making sure her robes were flattened beneath her, the Greengrass heiress took a seat.
"That's not to say that stashing food in the library was a bad idea, of course." she continued, "You simply shouldn't have gotten caught."
"Or you could just hide them in your pocket." said Harry, pulling a chocolate frog from within his robes, "I mean, I'm still allowed in the library, aren't I?"
Not that it'd be all too pleasant, mind you. Thought Harry, rubbing his scar.
Daphne turned to him, giving him her undivided attention for the first time since her arrival.
"I heard our Professors talking about our scores." she said blankly, "You did well. Congratulations."
"Er - thanks?" said Harry, confused, "How exactly do you know our scores?"
Nott sat up at once, closing his book and placing it carefully within his lap.
"I was helping Professor Sinistra." she said dismissively, "When we went into the staff lounge, I heard several of the professors discussing the examinations."
"What'd I get?" demanded Nott at once.
"An eighty-eight percent in charms, if you must know." said Daphne irritably.
Harry smiled half-heartedly as Nott swore profusely.
It's getting worse.
"You've been touching your forehead quite a bit." noted Daphne curiously.
"I hadn't noticed." said Harry sarcastically as his scar began to burn. Harry's eyes clenched as he tried to lessen the pain.
"Nevermind that," said Nott, "Why aren't you with Davis?"
"She isn't glued to my hip." said Daphne with narrowed eyes, "And she isn't a book, either - I can't just take her with me wherever I go."
"That's a crying shame." said Nott with a yawn, "Not that'd I'd ever choose a person over a book, mind you."
"Yes, well just because you had to be kicked out of the library to interact with people doesn't mean it's the same for everyone else." snapped Daphne coolly.
"I interact with people enough." argued Nott, slowly reopening his book.
"The person you've talked to most all year is Potter, and I can count the number of times I've seen the two of you talk on two hands."
"Will you two please shut up?" said Harry suddenly, "My head feels like it's about to split open."
"Fine." said Daphne, sending Nott one last glare before returning her gaze to Harry. When she spoke, her voice held none of the coolness it often did.
"I just thought I'd tell you how you did, that's all. Congratulations."
With that, the blonde girl got up, making her way back to the castle.
"She doesn't seem to like you much." noted Harry eventually, dropping his hand from his scar - the pain had begun to lessen, "I know why she doesn't like me, but why you?"
"She doesn't like anyone." said Nott dismissively, "Kind of like how I don't like anyone either - although you're alright, I suppose - when you aren't having a stroke every few seconds, that is."
Nott continued on, ignoring the half-hearted glare Harry sent him.
"She's been like that for as long as I remember." said Nott, returning to his book, "She didn't have very many friends growing up, other than Tracey. Her little sister, too, although I haven't met her. She isn't allowed to leave the house often. Got some sort of disease, I think."
Harry nodded, watching as Daphne reentered the castle.
-(xXx)-
"Honestly, you three, get up and watch! It's the Quidditch Finals, for Merlin's sake."
"Leave us be, Tracey." said Daphne impatiently, leaning against the back wall of the Slytherin booths. Beside her sat Harry, and beside him sat Nott. None of them seemed particularly pleased at the moment. Harry watched as Nott banged his head against the wall behind him, slouching slightly. Daphne sat up straight, her posture as immaculate as ever - but she was frowning, and her exhausted eyes blinked far more often than normal.
"But we won't see this ever again!" whined Tracey, "At least watch - you don't have to get up - but you really should watch!"
"Is she daft?" muttered Nott moodily, his head in his hands, "Quidditch isn't suddenly going to be canceled, is it?"
Daphne glared at the boy, who had buried his head further.
"Just because you forgot to bring a book doesn't mean being an arse is a better use of your time." she said irritably.
"I mean, he's got a bit of a point." muttered Harry, yawning, "Although I suppose he could've been a bit less of a prat about it."
"Thank you, Potter."
"Harry." Harry corrected absentmindedly.
"Harry." said Daphne unsurely, the word clearly foreign to her tongue. She appraised him for a moment, not making a sound.
"Why're you tired?" asked Nott eventually, yawning as he spoke, "Were you up with the notebook again?"
Harry nodded drowsily.
"What's so interesting about it?" inquired Nott, "You always have that thing around - except now, I suppose."
"'Course I do." said Harry, "All our dorms are next to each other, and the only thing stopping anyone from entering is a lock. That doesn't do much against a wand."
"And we share a dorm hall with Malfoy and his trolls." surmised Nott.
"Yeah." said Harry slowly, rubbing his eyes. He looked out at the pitch, watching with faint interest as green and red blurs zoomed by.
"So, Quidditch." Harry began, "Seems a bit interesting, doesn't it?"
"'A bit?'" repeated Tracey incredulously, turning around at once, "What do you mean, 'a bit?'"
Daphne smiled softly at her friend. On his other side, Nott was banging his head against his knees, clearly trying to keep himself awake. Harry didn't blame him - the match had gone on for an awfully long time. Thrice now Harry had seen the snitch, and yet here they still were.
Perhaps it's more fun when you're playing instead of watching.
"You know, if neither of you want to be here, you can both simply leave." noted Daphne, seemingly unimpressed by their lack of enthusiasm.
Nott slowly shook his head, muttering something too quietly to be heard.
"Snape told him he had to come to support our house." explained Harry, "Told him to drag me along as well, apparently."
"He did tell me." said Nott stubbornly, "If you think otherwise, feel free to skive."
"Like I'd do that." replied Harry tiredly, "Snape would turn me into a potions ingredient."
-(xXx)-
Harry lay upon the shores of the Great Lake, watching with sorrow and longing as the sun set over the forbidden forest.
By all accounts, he should have been happier. Slytherin had won the Quidditch cup, and from the looks of it, they were set to win the house cup as well. Yet here he was, mourning both the loss and arrival of the few things that meant something in his life.
Not that meaning something makes it good, mind you.
Harry hadn't seen Professor Baker in a while. He wanted to, but his scar constantly continued to flare up, especially around her. She hadn't sought him out yet - perhaps she had realised what was happening to him. It wouldn't surprise Harry - she was Professor Baker, after all.
Still, without her presence to keep him company, Harry was alone. It was a feeling he had been awfully familiar with when he was younger. His time at Hogwarts - or, more specifically, with Professor Baker - had helped him forget what it felt like to be alone.
He certainly remembered now.
But it would get worse, and Harry knew it. Less than a month remained before his return to the Dursleys, his only company being Hedwig, his wand, his trunk, and the textbooks that filled it.
"I admit, I'm surprised to find you here." said a soft, cool voice.
Harry didn't bother to look up as the beautiful blonde girl took a seat beside him. She sat upright, a stark contrast to Harry, who was sprawled across the earthen soil and the sandy shores.
"You seem upset." noted Daphne quietly.
"I wasn't aware." muttered Harry sarcastically. He paused, turning to the girl beside him, "Sorry."
"Don't be." she replied, "You're not the only one in a foul mood."
There was a pause, during which Harry watched Daphne curiously, and then -
"I'm more than welcome to listen, if you want. I might need someone to listen as well." Daphne muttered.
Harry took a close look at the girl. She didn't feel right - not the way she normally felt, at least. Her posture was stiff, her hair not as neatly combed as usual, and her eyes were red. She looked tired - she felt tired.
Harry nodded slowly, waiting for the girl to speak. When she did, it was with a slightly wavering voice.
"Tracey's leaving."
"W-what?"
"Tracey's leaving." repeated Daphne faintly, "Her family's moving to North America. She'll be gone by the summer's end."
Harry's expression softened. Words swam to the tip of his tongue, but Harry wasn't quite sure what they meant. He'd never known anyone well enough to miss them. The Dursleys had made sure of that.
But Daphne clearly had. Nott's words from many moons ago swam to the forefront of Harry's mind, singing a sorrowful song . . .
". . . they've known each other for as long as they've lived . . . they're best friends, you know . . ."
"I'm sorry." said Harry earnestly, "I'd be sorry if someone like that had to go too."
Daphne nodded blankly, staring at the Great Lake that sat before them.
"I knew she'd go." said Daphne slowly, "I've known since the beginning of the school year. But I ignored it. It didn't matter at the time."
She turned to him, watching him closely.
"You're here for the same reason." she decided eventually, "Who's leaving?"
"No one." said Harry.
But that's not true, is it?
Harry stiffened. He tried to push the traitorous voice in his head aside, but it did not budge.
"I am." Harry slowly corrected, breathing heavily, "I'm leaving."
Daphne's eyes widened, her head turning sharply to face his.
"You're leaving Hog-"
"No." Harry answered quickly, "No, I'm not. Not like that."
Daphne fell silent, waiting for Harry to continue.
"I'm going back." he said simply, "Back to the Dursley. Back to my relatives for three whole months."
"I take it you're not fond of them?" asked Daphne quietly.
"You could say that."
Daphne nodded, not pushing further. The two sat side by side, watching as the sun - which just barely poked out from behind the many clouds - began its descent into the trees that lined the forbidden forest. The surface of the Great Lake glowed orange and red, shimmering as the light danced merrily upon it.
"Have you ever wondered what life might have been like?" inquired Daphne, "What life could have been?"
Harry turned to her. She was still gazing at the setting sun, its warmth doing little to soften the sorrow in her eyes. She slowly turned to him, not looking him in the eye, and when she spoke, her voice was faint.
"I have." she admitted quietly, "She's a pureblood there. She - her family - they don't have to deal with - with everything. In there, she doesn't have to go west."
Harry sat silently, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular. He had indeed considered what might have been - but not often. Such thoughts were in vain, he had realised, and as Professor Baker had said, it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
I should see Professor Baker if I can. It's been a while.
It would be painful, no doubt - his scar would likely feel as though it were on fire - but it was something he would have to endure. He missed her quite a bit, and perhaps she felt the same.
"Everyone else is fine as well." continued Daphne in the same sad voice, "Especially Astoria. Everyone is fine. Everyone is healthy and pure."
"You know, just because someone isn't pureblooded doesn't mean they aren't decent."
Daphne raised her head, turning to look at him. Her eyes were dull and lifeless.
"Maybe." she whispered, "Not that it matters."
"You do realise I'm a half-blood, right?" inquired Harry, "I'd like to think I'm alright."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed.
"Fine, I dunno, Dumbledore then."
The girl looked away, her lips clenched tightly together.
"Wait a moment." said Harry slowly, "Why are you here then? I'm a half-blood, aren't I? Why'd you come here?"
"Because," she began, her voice blank, "as I've said before, I'm not, for a lack of a better word, an arse. I thought it best to keep you company."
Harry watched as the girl pressed her fingers upon the sandy shores beneath them. Her finger smacked against the end of a pebble. Harry watched as it flew across the Great Lake, splashing across its surface.
"Thanks." said Harry quietly, turning back to the setting sun. They sat in silence for a while, watching as the rays of light slowly began to fade away, and then -
"I've thought about it as well." muttered Harry, turning to face the Slytherin girl, "About what life might've been like."
The pair watched as the setting sun finally sank into the forest, the clouds now taking over the soon-to-be night sky. Daphne looked on for a moment before turning back to Harry, her head tilted slightly to the side.
"In there, I don't go back to the Dursleys." Harry said slowly, "In there, I don't even know the Dursleys. They aren't there. They don't exist to be met, and if they do, I've never met them."
Daphne nodded slowly, a frown on her face as she ducked her head.
"I go back home at the end of the year." said Harry, "A real home, you know? And they're there, waiting for me. They're still here - they're alive."
"And her?" asked Daphne quietly, looking at the surface of the sorrowful lake that sat before her, "What about you-know-who?"
"Voldemort's gone." said Harry savagely, his palm curled into a fist. His eyes were narrowed, his cheeks clenched with anger. Daphne tensed slightly at the mention of the Dark Lady's name, but she said nothing, "Voldemort doesn't exist. And if she does, she's dead. She can't hurt anyone anymore."
Harry turned back to the Great Lake. He could feel Daphne's eyes on him; they pierced at his skin, as though she had never seen him before. After a moment, she turned away, glancing off into the distance as well. A comfortable silence fell upon the pair.
Feet clambered upon a cobblestone path, and grains of sand shifted by their feet.
"We've got to do something!" yelled a panicked voice, cutting through the quiet air like it was paper, "She's alive, if she gets to the stone - we've got to do something!"
Granger?
"But what, exactly?" yelled another back, "You heard McGonagall, Dumbledore's gone!"
"What is it this time?" muttered Daphne quietly, her eyes narrowed in irritation. She and Harry quietly turned around.
Running up the path that connected Hagrid's hut to the castle were Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Each of them seemed out of breath, and they all sported the same panicked expression.
"Maybe we could send him a letter?" suggested Neville, stumbling up the stone steps as he followed after his two friends, "D-Dumbledore, I mean."
"A ruddy owl can't keep up with Dumbledore!" swore Ron, "Besides, he's probably in London by now!"
"We have to try!" argued Hermione hysterically, "You heard what Firenze said - we have to talk to Dumbledore!"
"And tell him what?" a panicked Ron yelled back, "That a bloody centaur - one that spent a solid ten minutes talking about Mars, mind you - just told us that you-know-who is alive and kicking?"
Harry froze, his balled fist unraveling in shock.