Chapter Forty-One – Returning to Hogwarts
The attic of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place lay in shadow, broken only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a small, grimy window and the dim flicker of a few candles nestled in the corners. A cool breeze blew in from the open window, bringing with it the scent of rain and the pungent smell of damp, musty wood. A few stars struggled to pierce the thick clouds, and somewhere in the distance thunder rolled, low and ominous, a warning rumble on the cusp of an approaching storm. The bleak barking of a lone dog echoed faintly from the darkened streets below.
In this dim, oppressive room, Harry and Daphne stood before Grindelwald, who was still chained to the wall with blood-magical restraints, but this time he could move his head freely. And despite his condition, an eerie smile played around the old wizard's lips.
"Welcome to your first lessons, my two dark disciples," Grindelwald said in a deep, silky voice, but it sounded a little hoarse, like poorly maintained, rusty gears. In his prime, the Dark Wizard must have been a truly impressive speaker, Harry thought as he listened. "I can reveal to you the darkest secrets of magic – wonders and horrors that would chill the bravest of souls, miracles steeped in the blood and ambitions of those who came before us. The power of sorcery in all its glorious splendour." He glanced between the two teenagers. "All I need is... a wand."
Harry snorted, a small laugh escaping his throat. Next to him, Daphne shook her head and crossed her arms in a smooth, almost casual gesture.
"You can't really think we're that stupid," she said coolly.
Grindelwald's smile did not fade. "Remember, I think you are fools. Dangerous and bloodthirsty fools, but fools nonetheless."
"You'd better not be mocking us," Harry replied, a little testily. The words were not new, but they were beginning to annoy him. "Don't forget who's tied up here."
"Oh, I am shaking with fear, Potter," Grindelwald said. "I suppose you will probably end up slaughtering me and using my entrails to decorate your garden – metaphorically speaking, of course. Or you will swear eternal vengeance against me, as you did against Albus. But please tell me, both of you, how can I help you fight him if you won't let me carry a wand?"
Thunder crashed outside, followed by a flash of lightning that seared through the attic, casting their faces in a ghostly black-and-white distortion. None of the three flinched.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Harry said. "And who knows, maybe by then we can..." He hesitated. Trust was too much. Much, much too much. "...less distrust you."
Grindelwald let out a dry, humourless laugh, his head tilting slightly to one side. "Trust is no measure of a relationship between villains like us. You don't trust me any more than I trust you. And why should we? We both know that you'd kill me in a heartbeat if I threatened your plans. Just as I wouldn't hesitate to end you to ensure my own survival..." He paused, pregnant with meaning. "Assuming I had a wand."
"And that's why you don't have a wand," Daphne said, her voice colder.
The old wizard nodded slightly, his smile now a mixture of resignation and grim acceptance. "Quite right. That's why I don't have a wand. My life is in your hands, and I have no means of pressuring you in any way. You see, my young friends, my first piece of advice as your old master on your way to power is simple: never put yourself in my position. Kill anyone who might threaten you before they do. If I had taken that to heart as a young man, I wouldn't be hanging so unworthily before you now."
Daphne raised her wand and pointed it at Grindelwald. "Avada..."
Grindelwald's body froze and Harry felt a flicker of magic, hot and sharp, but then nothing more happened. Daphne did not finish the spell, nor did Grindelwald react. He just looked at Daphne intensely, searching, as if he wanted to see into the depths of her soul.
After a few moments, Daphne lowered her wand. "No, we don't trust you, Grindelwald," she said. "But because we know that, and you know that, we can work together, free of illusions."
Grindelwald's pale eyes slid slowly over to Harry. "Charming fiancée you have there, my dear Harry. If I were a hundred years younger and knew what to do with women –"
A surge of anger shot through Harry and before he could think, he had raised his wand and aimed it directly between Grindelwald's eyes. "Cruc—"
Before he could cast the curse, he felt a hand on his arm. It was Daphne's. It was warm, and there seemed to be a tingling sensation where it touched him, as there had been so often of late. Her eyes met his, golden, intense and calm, and without a word he understood her message: We must pull ourselves together.
Harry nodded slightly. His heart was pounding, his insides felt boiling hot and his Impetus growled furiously, but he tried to control his emotions. It would be unwise to torture Grindelwald now, even though he more than deserved it after those words – no one was allowed to think that way about Daphne! But yes, they had to pull themselves together, he knew that, otherwise they would have destroyed an important piece before they could even use it properly.
All this time Grindelwald had watched the proceedings without saying a word. Then he tilted his head, a thin, cold smile playing on his face. "Yes, I feel vindicated," he said. "And at the same time you are sinking more and more in my esteem. And that is why I find you so dangerous. It really is... exciting. Thrilling."
Daphne released her hand from Harry's arm. "We're glad to add a little excitement to your final days, Grindelwald," she said, her voice as cool as the raindrops that had begun to drip against the open window. "Now, enough theatrics. We were discussing what you could teach us."
"What, that's it?" Grindelwald asked. "No more threats? You won't force me to make a binding magical contract with you, or swear an unbreakable vow never to betray you, or I will lose my magic, and the descendants of my descendants will be cursed forever, and my soul will be swallowed by the deepest pits of hell to burn forever in purgatory as I scream your names in hatred? None of that? Not even a little?" He sighed theatrically. "How disappointing."
Harry snorted. "Don't take us for fools. False security is worse than no security at all."
"Harry and I are humble enough to know our limits," Daphne agreed. "We're certainly not going to engage in a contest of sophistication and wording with the Great Deceiver, where every syllable is a dagger and every phrase a trap. No, a vow would be nothing more than a net with holes big enough for a whole flock of crows to fly through."
Grindelwald let out another dry laugh, which seemed to be one of his standard responses. "Perhaps there is still some hope that your story will not be a sad, albeit bloody, tragedy, at least for now. Even if it is to my disadvantage in this case." He leaned forward slightly, his blood-magical shackles pulsing a faint, angry red. "But, my dear, perhaps not-so-idiotic crows, I'm still waiting for an answer: how am I supposed to teach you without the means to use magic?"
"You still have your mind," Harry said laconically. "And your memory."
"And your mouth to speak with," Daphne added. "Don't tell us that's not enough for the great Gellert Grindelwald to impart a small portion of his infinite wisdom and experience to a pair of idiotic children." Her voice dripped with contempt, like a knife with blood after a brutal act of murder.
Their counterpart looked at them with a sharp glint in his eyes – though Harry wasn't sure if it wasn't just the lightning flashing in the night sky at that moment. Outside, the storm had intensified, raindrops beating against the window with the fury of a thousand tiny curses.
"So listen to my words, my unworthy students," Grindelwald finally said, "that you may learn..."
Harry and Daphne knew that by denying their powerful teacher a wand, they might not be tapping into his full potential. But they also knew, with a visceral certainty, that giving him that power could mean digging their own graves. They simply could not trust Grindelwald, useful though he was as a tool. They could trust no one, no one but themselves.
Nevertheless, after a few more days, they released the old wizard from his blood-magical bonds to the wall, at least during the day, while they could keep an eye on him, so he could move around a little. It was during these hours that it became even more apparent how much Grindelwald had deteriorated physically during the decades of solitary confinement. Harry remembered the stories he had heard of Grindelwald's reign of terror when he first entered the wizarding world, the fear and awe his name must once have inspired, and the images in the history books of the mighty wizard defying his enemies. But this man, now in their custody, was a hollow shadow of that legend.
Grindelwald could not stand for more than half an hour before he collapsed again, his legs trembling beneath him as if they could no longer support his own weight. His breathing was then heavy and labored, the effort clearly visible to him. Most of the time he could not even stand for that long; after a few minutes he would sit down again, as if his limbs had long since lost the strength to hold on. His skin, thin as parchment, stretched over protruding bones, his face hollow, almost ghostly. Harry and Daphne watched him, often in silence, and sometimes, when the light was right, it almost seemed as if a single gust of wind could blow him away like autumn leaves.
But even when Grindelwald's body failed him, his mind remained as relentlessly sharp as the sharpest of blades. Even if he was of limited practical use to them without his wand and in a state of physical decline, his theoretical knowledge of magic alone was worth his weight in gold. This became more apparent with each day they spent with him.
He showed Daphne, who loved breaking magical barriers and was so good at it, how to create impenetrable magical barriers of her own, or at least as impenetrable as magic could be. It was a strange mixture of classic shield magic, rooted in the wizard's inner self, and ancient runes from a long-lost magical civilisation on the shores of the Black Sea. And when Daphne practised the magic on her own with Harry after their training sessions, she found that the use of Blood Magic enhanced the effect even more. That three inmates of the nearest Muggle prison – convicted of murder and robbery – lost their lives for this discovery was a price neither of them hesitated to pay.
Furthermore, Grindelwald gave Harry some valuable tips on how to use transformations and incantations, such as those he had used against the Chinese Fireball in the First Task, on an even larger scale and over a wider area. Their hypothetical scenarios alluded to fighting groups of witches and wizards, but Harry knew that the potential of such powerful magic was, at least in theory, limitless – like the starry sky on a cloudless night as he glided through the air with his beloved, his claws still bloody from a successful hunt, the wind at his back and all earthly worries far, far away.
Wizards like Voldemort, Grindelwald and Dumbledore had used such spells to defeat entire armies, not to mention the legendary figures of the past from the great stories – and soon Harry and Daphne Potter would join their ranks. The thought sent a thrilling shiver down Harry's spine.
"We won't need him forever," Daphne said softly one night as they lay together in their bedroom, cuddled up in bed with the quiet darkness of London enveloping them. "But until then... we must take all he can give us."
Harry nodded, his thoughts still on the future ahead of them. "And when the time comes..." he began, leaving the words hanging, and Daphne completed his thought, a ruthless certainty in her tone.
"Then we'll drop him. Like everyone else."
...
And so the summer passed in a feverish a whirlwind of study, magic and passion – the latter shared only by Harry and Daphne.
Only occasionally were the two eager teenagers pulled out of this whirlwind, such as when they were summoned to the Ministry for questioning and had to testify that they knew nothing about the destruction of Azkaban and had no idea whether Grindelwald or anyone else was out to get Harry. Or when they celebrated Harry's fifteenth birthday together in one of the most expensive restaurants in Muggle London, far, far away from the prying eyes of witches and wizards and the cameras of intrusive reporters – just the two of them, as they had been for so long.
For those weeks, Harry and Daphne were happy.
But as the summer wore on, their return to Hogwarts drew nearer and nearer. Much sooner than either of them would have liked, the first of September was already upon them – but at least they had found a way to continue their fruitful collaboration with their new ally after their time at Grimmauld Place...
It was the night before the first of September, and darkness enveloped Harry. The faint light from his wand, mixed with the glow of Daphne's, illuminated the rough stone walls of the tunnel they passed through. Each step made a soft crunching sound beneath their feet as the countless small animal bones and skulls scattered across the floor shifted slightly, remnants of long forgotten creatures.
This was not the first time he and Daphne had walked this path. And yet... Harry's nerves grew as they approached their destination. It was an excited nervousness, not the quiet tension they had felt less than half an hour ago when they had crept through a secret passage into the castle – the castle that was just beginning to prepare for tomorrow's crowds, having been almost completely deserted for the past two months; but not as deserted as their destination, and not for so long.
He was nervous because they were approaching the site of one of his greatest victories – the place where he and Daphne had defeated a giant beast.
He was nervous because they were approaching the site of one of his greatest defeats – the place where he had frightened Daphne to death.
A place where they had had some of the most formative experiences of their young lives. A place where their fates had been inextricably intertwined.
Back then they had been shocked by the huge snake skin, a bright, poisonous green, that lay rolled up and empty on the floor of the tunnel, but now they passed quickly without taking a second look, Daphne's heels clicking loudly on the stone floor.
Around another bend, a wall appeared in front of them, carved with two entwined snakes. Their eyes were large, sparkling emeralds. Harry noticed his fiancée looking at them and then at him, an almost subtle pink glow on her pretty face. Through their bond, he felt a ripple of warmth wash over him.
Harry gave her an affectionate smile before stepping in front of the snakes. He cleared his throat and reached for the hidden power within him that he had discovered with Daphne during his first year at Hogwarts and had kept hidden from the rest of the world ever since. It was a power that most people associated with dark wizards and witches – complete nonsense, as Daphne had commented at the time. But now, as Harry stood here and thought about everything they had done since then and what they would do in the future, he wondered if the people had been right after all.
"Open," Harry hissed in Parseltongue.
A ripple of magic flowed through the air, followed by a faint clicking sound. The serpents unwound, revealing a dark passageway as the wall parted in front of them.
Without hesitation, Harry and Daphne stepped into the shadows. They continued on, even as a dull thud echoed behind them, followed by muffled protests. Their companion must have hit his head on something – again, Harry noted with a smirk. Daphne was responsible for the levitation spell, and she had always had a diabolical streak.
Through the darkness they came to a long chamber lit by a greenish twilight. The air was heavy and still, with only the sound of water dripping on stone somewhere in the distance. Mighty stone pillars towered at the sides, each entwined with elegant stone serpents. Their glittering eyes seemed to follow Harry and Daphne as they stepped further into the chamber, but the ceiling and walls above them faded into darkness.
Harry remembered the pounding of his heart the last time – the only time so far –, the fear they had felt, hyper-aware of every sound and movement, ready to close their eyes at a moment's notice to avoid the basilisk's deadly gaze. Admittedly, Harry thought, he would have died anyway if Daphne hadn't prevented it out of pure defiance, even if that hadn't been the result of the beast's eyes...
Now his heart was beating in a calm, steady rhythm. And he had no particular fear as he walked past the pillars with his then saviour and now fiancée. The carcass of the basilisk that appeared before them in the greenish twilight was anything but frightening at this moment. Horrible and hideous as it lay there, with its head blown off and its shriveled, almost charred body, almost disgusting, especially the smell, but without a doubt, absolutely and positively dead. Killed by them. When they had been no more than little crows.
More than two years later, and it was still one of the proudest moments of his life, Harry thought. Back then, everything had seemed so simple, their biggest worry the lack of public recognition after their heroic deed...
Just short of the giant snake's carcass, Daphne swung her wand forward with a mighty flourish. A hissing sound ripped through the air, followed by the flying body of Gellert Grindelwald.
The old wizard was wrapped in thick ropes and chains from head to toe, making him look like a butterfly in a cocoon, with only his head sticking out, and an utterly dissatisfied expression on his face. A thick gag was stuffed into Grindelwald's mouth, silencing his protests since they left London. They could have used magic instead of all the ropes, chains and gags, but sometimes the simplest means were the safest, especially when it came to a once powerful wizard like Grindelwald, who they could trust so little.
Daphne let their companion sink to the floor before them; the chains that held him in place rattled loudly in the chamber. Then she turned to Harry, a playful smile tugging on her lips. "Would you be so kind, my lord, as to prepare our friend's new quarters?"
"Your wish is my command, my lady," Harry replied, a thrill of anticipation stirring in his stomach.
He raised his wand and made slow, deliberate movements. It must look very relaxed from the outside, he thought, but inside a storm was raging. Like liquid fire, the magic coursed through his veins, burning away all resistance; like a raging tsunami, the magic penetrated every pore of his body; like a huge monster, the Impetus roared inside him, this reactor of unparalleled power, as if it wanted to devour the whole world. It was a cry of greed that he felt quietly in his heart, but not a cry of hunger. That had died when his Impetus had been sated by the pain of the eighty-six inmates and guards of Azkaban. Since then, the fire inside Harry had never gone out. It flared up every time he used magic, giving his spells an overwhelming power. It was an overwhelming feeling and Harry couldn't get enough of it.
With a satisfied smile on his face, Harry cast his spell. He conjured up a large wooden bed with a sprung mattress, golden blankets and pillows embroidered with the initials 'GG', along with a table, a chair, a wardrobe, a chamber pot and everything else you would need in a one-room flat – all at once, with a single spell.
Suddenly, he felt another hot stream of magic glide through the chamber. And he felt the magic within him, as if it were part of him, and that wasn't far-fetched, for it was Daphne's magic. His fiancée cast her own spells, but instead of creating objects out of thin air like he had done, she created powerful charms that covered the walls of the chamber and the pillars. Then a smaller ring of protection followed around them, perhaps twenty metres in diameter. Harry could feel the magic crackling on his skin, as if the air was electrically charged. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Not only was the feel of Daphne's magic as familiar to him as the skin on his hand, no, the spell itself was anything but unfamiliar. In its basic form, it was one of the magical barriers that Daphne had practised with Grindelwald, but it had been enriched with some of Daphne's own considerations and adjustments; after all, they were not naive. Harry knew that not even a speck of dust would get through these barriers, especially not without them being warned.
And so, after a few moments, Gellert Grindelwald's new prison – temporary home – was perfect.
Harry pointed his wand at the old wizard and with a quick mental push, the shackles that bound him began to loosen, leaving only a heavy chain around his legs. That would stay, Harry had decided.
The gag also slipped from Grindelwald's mouth and he gasped for air. "Had I known," he murmured, his voice hoarse, "I would have preferred the accommodations at Nurmengard. The guards there treated me better."
"Don't act like you had a choice," Daphne said. She pushed a strand of her silky black hair out of her face and stepped back to Harry. Instinctively, they moved close enough that their shoulders touched. Again, a comforting warmth spread through Harry and a taste of blood filled his tongue.
Grindelwald's pale eyes turned to her. "A piece of advice from the repertoire of renowned villains with style, my depraved pupil: it's not polite to point out someone's weaknesses so blatantly. And it is unwise to tempt fate with such displays of superiority."
"Truly fascinating," Harry said, unimpressed. He crossed his arms. "I hope you also know how fascinating the place you are in is. Not many have had the honour of being here before us. Welcome to the legendary Chamber of Secrets of Salazar Slytherin."
Grindelwald looked around the chamber and shrugged. "I expected it to be larger." Then he ran his eyes over the magical barriers that surrounded them in a radius of about ten metres. If you looked closely, you could see the air shimmering like over a campfire. "But apparently it can always be smaller. Well, it will do for now while I wait for you to return." He gestured towards the shriveled carcass of the basilisk. "At least I have some pleasant company. I think I will call her Gundula, after my grandmother. She bears a certain resemblance."
Harry and Daphne exchanged glances. What sex was the basilisk, anyway? Not that it mattered now.
"I'm glad you like it here," Harry said. "We'll return tomorrow after the Welcome Feast. But now we have to get back to London to catch the train back here tomorrow."
"So much travelling," Daphne complained, sighing. "And the worst part will be the company..."
Hermione had arrived at King's Cross station extra early – in a completely insane hope, she now had to admit to herself. Now she was sitting in a compartment with Ron and Ginny, looking out at the crowds passing by the train windows, and she had to admit that Harry had failed her once again. She had hoped to see him, even for a moment, to have a quick conversation, anything, after having no contact with him for over two months. Not since the terrible night of the Third Task.
But Harry had not come sooner. Even now, barely fifteen minutes before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave, there was no sign of him. Or his evil shadow. At least that last thought had something positive about it.
The squeaking of the compartment door made Hermione look up in hope, but it was only Neville and Susan. The young couple entered the compartment hand in hand and, after a quick hello, sat down next to Ginny and opposite Ron and Hermione.
They both looked a little sun-kissed, not too much, but a little. It was especially noticeable given their usual pallor from spending so much time in the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Apparently they had become close there too, Hermione remembered the rumours of their blossoming relationship, which had apparently begun while they were tending to some of Professor Sprout's plants.
It was a nice story, Hermione thought, if it wasn't for the fact that every time she talked to Susan, she felt there were huge gulfs between them that they just couldn't bridge. Because they saw so many things so differently. Uncomfortably, Hermione thought back to their heated discussion about the death penalty a few months ago.
Still, Hermione gave the two newcomers a welcoming smile. "How are you both?" she asked friendly. "Did you have a good summer?"
"Away from my aunt for weeks?" Susan said. "It was the best summer of my life."
Hermione's smile became a little stiffer. It hurt at the corners of her mouth. "So you travelled?" she asked.
Neville nodded. "We went to Denmark with my grandmother. My family has an old cottage there that is usually rented out to Muggles. What about you?"
"We mostly stayed at home," said Ron, his tan deeper than Neville and Susan's. "But mostly outside. We have a big orchard where you can play Quidditch really well. We spent every spare minute there."
Ginny snorted. "Until Hermione came to visit. Then you suddenly became veeeery interested in your own room, where you both spent hours with –"
"Hey, just because I have a girlfriend and you're still single, you don't have to take your frustrations out on me!" Ron sounded like it was all in good fun, but the tips of his ears had turned bright red. Hermione felt her cheeks blush as well.
"Are you still using Harry's broomstick, Ginny?" Susan asked suddenly. "And do you still fancy him?"
Hermione noticed Ginny's body tensing, her shoulders rising slightly as if she were ready to defend herself. "Who do you think I am, Bones?" she replied sharply. "Do you think I'm that desperate?"
Susan shrugged, unmoved. "I don't know, I hardly know you. I just wanted to make sure you weren't still dreaming of riding Harry's other broomstick. I don't think that would end well for you."
"What? Have you become best friends with Greengrass?" Ginny hissed, clearly upset. Her delicate fingers clenched into fists.
"That probably wouldn't end well for me," Susan replied calmly. "I don't think she's looking for friends. And neither am I."
This was an opportunity Hermione could not pass up, even if she was momentarily distracted by two dark birds – crows – flying past the train window. How strange.
"I'm worried about Harry," she said almost in a whisper. Leaning forward, she looked intently at Neville and Susan. "Greengrass is poisoning his mind and using him completely. That with the Minister was her fault. I saw it clearly. The way she nodded at him before Harry attacked the Minister. It was her idea! Harry would never have done it on his own. It was all because of her that he went to Azkaban and almost died! And now this rash engagement." Her voice fell even more as she continued. "Ron, Ginny and I have been talking a lot about this over the past few weeks. We need to –"
Loud laughter cut off her voice. But the laughter didn't sound friendly, it sounded harsh. It came from Neville. He laughed and laughed and laughed and couldn't seem to stop. Hermione felt her face harden. This had been a mistake, she realised.
Susan rolled her eyes as she gently patted her boyfriend's hand. Then she turned to the others. "I think what my humorous boyfriend is trying to say is: have you all lost your minds? Are you really that stupid, or are you just pretending?"
An uncomfortable silence fell over the compartment, broken only by Neville's final harsh chuckles. Then they fell silent too, but Neville shook his head in disbelief instead.
"You really don't know who Harry is anymore," he muttered.
"Of course I know who Harry is!" Ron snapped, his defensiveness flaring. "He's my friend and –"
"That doesn't mean you know him," Neville interrupted. "Or you, Hermione. Or you, Ginny."
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Neville. "But you know him, or what? Since when have you been such close friends?"
"I know him well enough to laugh off any suggestion that Harry is being used by anyone—especially by Daphne." Neville shook his head again, disbelief etched into his face. "It's as if you haven't been paying attention for the last few years."
"So you're on Greengrass's side," Ginny said icily. "Good to know, plant freak. Then I'll know who to avoid from now on."
"That would be a tragic loss, of course, Weaselette," Susan said.
Hermione thought that if looks could kill, the Hufflepuff would have been reduced to dust at that moment, as Ginny – and Ron, too – glared daggers at her.
She was about to speak, to ask Neville and Susan to leave their compartment when the door was flung open with a loud bang. There was a sharp clicking of heels, accompanied by heavier, more determined steps as two newcomers entered. And not just any newcomers.
"Top of the morning to you, ladies and gentlemen," Daphne Greengrass' voice rang out, overly cheerful and unsettling. A cold shiver ran down Hermione's spine, followed by a deep, seething hatred.
A wave of nausea washed over her at the sight of Greengrass, that unbearable smile plastered across her face. The Slytherin had always favoured black, a colour that suited her hair and her rotten soul. But today, her robes and travelling cloak seemed to be an even deeper shade, almost absorbing the light around her. The fabric draped around her figure, clinging to her curves and hiding them at the same time, creating a tantalising contrast. The darkness was broken only by her cold, amber eyes – ever one of her most striking features – and the delicate silver jewellery that caught the light in her silky, pitch-black hair. There was something almost predatory about her presence, an air of mystery and danger that no doubt attracted many boys, including Harry.
Hermione hated to admit it, but Greengrass was undeniably an extremely attractive witch – as if the whore needed a weapon like that on top of all her other poisoned daggers.
And everything about her – the silk robes, the silver jewellery, the dragon-hide boots – seemed outrageously expensive, probably worth more than a year's wages for a decent wizarding family. The thought that Harry's gold had paid for this extravagant display made Hermione's stomach churn.
Hermione felt even worse when she spotted the silver ring on Greengrass's left hand: an engagement ring. An identical ring glittered on Harry's left hand, Hermione noted bitterly as her gaze shifted from Greengrass to him.
Harry stood beside his fiancée, smiling at the group. Hermione longed to return the smile, but instead she felt a wave of anger, sadness and an almost overwhelming urge to shout at him, to shake him awake, to knock some sense into his head – all the while wanting nothing more than to burst into tears.
"Hello, guys," Harry greeted them, his voice bright. "How are you?"
Harry and Greengrass slid onto the bench next to Hermione and Ron, placing the boys in the middle and the girls at either end. Hermione opened her mouth, desperate to speak, but a lump in her throat silenced her.
Ron broke the silence first. "Hey, Harry. And..." He hesitated for a moment. "D–Greengrass."
The girl in question clicked her tongue in disapproval. "That won't do, Ronald. It won't be my last name for much longer."
"Congratulations again on your engagement," Neville said from the other side. "Now face to face."
"Yes, congratulations," Susan said, although her voice sounded much less enthusiastic. But it didn't sound unfriendly either. "Who proposed, by the way?"
"Daphne did," Harry replied.
Greengrass snuggled up against him. "What can I say? When I want something, I take it. Especially if I have to defend it from other greedy witches trying to get their filthy hands on it." As she said this, her golden eyes flicked to Ginny and Hermione for a moment.
Hermione tried hard to ignore it, as hard as it was for her to ignore her stirring emotions. But she couldn't afford to make a mistake, to ruin everything she had hoped for that day with rash words.
Looking only at Harry, she said quietly, "You never responded to my request to meet in the summer... or to any of my other letters."
"Sorry about that," Harry said. "There was just so much to do that it got a bit lost in the shuffle."
"What did you have to do?" Ginny asked, her eyes fixed intently on him.
Harry and Greengrass exchanged a glance. It only lasted a second, but it was enough for Hermione to sense a silent conversation between them. Her anger flared. Could Harry not answer a simple question without asking permission from Greengrass?!
After a moment, Harry shrugged. "This and that," he said. "You know. Charged by the Magical Law Enforcement, sentenced to prison, narrowly escaped certain death at the hands of a delusional Dark Lord. The usual madness."
There was a chuckle from Neville on the bench opposite and Susan rolled her eyes again, amused.
"Surely you've done something else in the last month and a half?" Ron asked.
"Of course," Greengrass said, raising his hand in a counting gesture. "We've also been studying. We read all the books in the Black Library and practised all the spells in them. It was a piece of cake for us, really. Sometimes we went for walks in the neighbourhood. Oh, and we had sex, of course. We did a bit of redecorating, practised more spells, even invented some of our own, read the scrolls Dumbledore sent us and thought about how to get rid of this corrupt government. And, of course, we had more sex. Lots and lots of sex. Sometimes Harry would even comb my hair afterwards, as he marvelled at my beauty and intellect."
Hermione felt her eyes burning as she fought back tears. It was all so unbearable and she wondered when things had gone so horribly wrong.
When did we lose you? she thought, gazing sadly at Harry, who responded to Greengrass's words with an embarrassed but amused smile. When did we let her greedy claws grab you, never to let go? When did we fail you – and ourselves – so miserably?
There was a loud whistle outside, and moments later the Hogwarts Express began to move. The platform and the waving crowd slid slowly past the windows and Hermione knew this was going to be a very, very long train ride.
The train ride had passed surprisingly quickly – though, given how much fun Daphne had, that was hardly a shock. The carriage ride to Hogwarts also flew by, and much sooner than she would have liked, Daphne found herself separated from Harry at the Slytherin table during the Welcome Feast.
The Great Hall was aglow with festive warmth, illuminated by the glow of hundreds of floating candles dancing above the colourful banners and flags of the four houses. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, but despite the noticeable improvement in the behaviour of her fellow Slytherins, a sense of loneliness clung to Daphne.
Glances were cast in her direction – cautious, sometimes apprehensive – but no one dared approach her. Draco didn't even dare look in her direction. Did he really think she would forget her promise just because he decided to fade into the background? He could wish for that for a long time.
There was also no more annoying giggling from Pansy, no more mocking laughter, no more absurd threats. It seemed that the repeated demonstrations of power that Daphne had felt compelled to make over the past few years – especially the past year – had not failed to have the desired effect. For she also knew what she was now being called behind her back: the Tyrant of Slytherin.
There was something to the name, Daphne thought. At least it didn't hide the truth. And the undeniable truth was that she was now in charge of Slytherin; not in the sense that she ruled like a minister rules a country, but in the sense that she could do whatever she wanted and that everyone had to bow down to her because they were far too afraid of her to oppose her. That was true power, and Daphne was beginning to relish the sensation.
As the last first year was sorted into Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat, she clapped politely with the rest of the students, but felt little enthusiasm. There was an expectant silence in the hall as everyone waited for the signal to start eating, broken only by the occasional growling of stomachs as the impatient hunger of some students made itself known.
Daphne was not really hungry – she rarely felt hungry these days, ever since they had tortured the inmates of Azkaban to death and offered their suffering as a feast for their Impetus – but she was impatient too, wanting this evening to be over as quickly as possible.
So she looked expectantly at Dumbledore, along with hundreds of other pairs of eyes, as he rose from his exaggeratedly ostentatious golden chair to make his welcoming speech. But for a moment, Dumbledore's right sleeve slipped, and Daphne caught a glimpse of his hand – it was black.
"It's not just a symptom of his physical decline. It must have something to do with his search for the Horcruxes. If this isn't the result of dark magic, I'll eat my hat."
Harry smirked at his lover's words as they walked down the corridor on the second floor. Curfew was still a while off, so they didn't have to hide, which made conversation easier. The corridors were deserted; the other students had retired to their common rooms after the feast. Only they had other dark business to attend to, and a certain former Dark Lord to see.
"If anyone should know about dark magic, it's you," Harry said, still smirking.
Daphne raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you finally going to acknowledge my superiority in all things magical?"
"Dream on, love."
Harry could see a quick-witted reply forming on Daphne's tongue when they both suddenly sensed something. Daphne closed her mouth instantly.
A magical aura lay in front of them, not far away, just around the corner. The aura was not moving, it seemed to be waiting. For them?
Harry and Daphne exchanged a significant look, and then stepped around the corner together.
A voice greeted them, low and gravelly: "I know what you two have done."