Harry did not resist in any way as the guards escorted him slash dragged him in Daphne's wake. He could not risk pissing the girl off any more than she already was. Earlier, he saw her composure break and her cheek twitch when he suggested that Voldemort was not pureblood. The resounding slap she gave him made it clear that he had to tread very carefully now.
But at least she was willing to listen to him and he had to take advantage of that opportunity.
Part of him wanted to just throw into her face the fact that she and her family served a halfblood. Maybe even laugh and mock her for it. It would be like settling the score between them after the humiliation the pureblood witch had put him through.
Ever since Daphne waltzed into his cell to question him, she made it clear he was beneath her in every way. She forced him to call her a lady and all but suggested that he ought to kneel in her presence. He suspected that even the dress she wore was meant to mock him. She must have noticed he found her attractive and deliberately dressed up to make herself even more gorgeous, hoping to distract him. Or perhaps to remind him how her beauty already brought him down once and that she would always have that power over him. Even now he felt like no less a fool for falling to her tricks.
The worst part was that despite his best effort to rein in his stray thoughts, he still could not stop himself from noticing the girl in front of him. He hated how every now and then he would catch sight of the blonde's swinging hips and his eyes would linger for just a moment longer than he wanted. The slit of her skirt affording him glimpse of her legs as she strode with confidence in her high-heeled shoes.
And she knew very well what she was doing to him! At one point, she even glanced over her shoulder and smirked knowingly as their eyes met.
'She's playing me like a fiddle,' Harry realized but even that knowledge was not enough to put a stop to it. Sadly for him, the male part of his brain seemed to have already made up its mind about Daphne Greengrass and nothing the girl would do seemed to change it.
After being forced to act subservient to her, Harry wondered if on some level he was perhaps excited by the absolute power the pureblood girl held over him right now.
That last thought was very hard for him to admit but he had days to think about what happened between them as he held her at a wand point. He knew that he allowed her beauty to override his better judgment. At first, he thought that's all there was to it – a dirty trick from her and a momentary weakness on his part.
But could it be that on some level he actually wanted her to disarm him?
He sincerely hoped that was not the case because that would mean he exchanged his destiny as well as his and his friends' lives for… what exactly? An opportunity to be Daphne's bitch before she hands him to Voldemort? That would be so much worse humiliation than getting captured by her in the first place.
There were just so many confusing feelings in him when it came do Daphne Greengrass. He could not make heads or tails of them.
The intellectual part, the hero in him, hated her haughty arrogance, her callousness, her… well, evil. All the things the Male Harry seemed to find strangely attractive. For the first time in his life, he regretted not being born gay because he desperately wanted to bring her down a peg or three for all she had done. Make her as miserable and humiliated as he was.
Revealing the truth about Voldemort to her seemed like a perfect way to do it… but he still had to be careful and not get too excited on this idea of revenge.
The girl in front of him held his life and the lives of his friends in her hands. No matter how much he wanted to salvage what was left of his pride, no matter how much he wanted to hurt her, he knew that he would ultimately do anything protect his friends.
If the only way to do it is to get down on his knees and beg, then so be it.
After travelling through endless corridors and stairwells of the Greengrass manor, they finally reached Daphne's office. After they entered, Daphne ordered her escort to leave them. This elucidated a round of loud protests from the guards who did not want to leave her alone with the 'bastard' who already injured her once.
"I know what I am doing," she assured them. "If Mr. Potter tries to escape or attack me again…" she said and glanced at Harry before finishing, "…his mudblood friend will pay."
"I won't, I swear!" Harry quickly said in panic when she threatened Hermione.
Daphne tossed her hair and gave him a satisfied smile. "See, there is no problem. We are all friends here," she said sweetly. Then she repeated her order. "Now, leave us," she said and brandished her wand which was somehow mysteriously tucked in her tight dress. "I can handle myself."
This time the guards reluctantly obeyed and they were alone.
Daphne gestured at the guest seat in front of her office table with her wand. "Sit down," she commanded him while she walked to the other side to her own chair, not taking her eyes of him the entire time.
"I will listen," the girl told him after he sat down. "But you will stay respectful as befits your blood status," she stressed and then looked coldly at him. "And if you lie to me, you will pay. And then Granger will pay. Is that clear?" she asked.
Their sights met and Harry saw the absolute determination in her eyes. He bit down on the snarky response he had and instead answered. "Yes… my lady."
Daphne nodded in satisfaction. "Good. I am listening. Speak," she ordered tersely.
In that moment, Harry wondered how to explain about Voldemort's origin and not make it sound completely unbelievable to her. "I have a long history with the dark lord," he finally started. It was definitely an understatement and Daphne thought so too given her expression.
"Yes, I am well aware he attacked your parents when you were a baby," she stated with a small hint of sympathy.
"He did not attack my parents…they were just in the way," Harry clarified. "It was me he wanted."
He then told her about the prophecy.
"You mean to tell me there really is a prophecy about you and the dark lord?" Daphne said while shaking her head in disbelief. "So you really are the chosen one, huh?" she asked and gave him a calculating look. "I assumed it was just Daily Prophet gossip."
"I wish," Harry stated, annoyed at hearing the hated moniker, especially coming from Daphne's lips. He did not feel like chosen one anymore. One word from the girl in front of him, and he would never achieve his destiny, assuming he had any in the first place. What a chosen one he turned out to be.
"Tell me the prophecy," the blonde demanded next.
Harry expected this and with a sigh he started to recite the sentences spoken by a drunken witch in a dirty tavern many years ago that have haunted his entire life. It felt like such a betrayal, confessing the important secret to Daphne Greengrass. Especially after so many people risked their lives protecting it in his fifth year. But what other choice did he have?
He told her everything.
"I can see why the dark lord would want you dead," Daphne finally said after she heard the entire prophecy. "But… as much as all this is interesting," she said and narrowed her blue eyes on him in warning before saying impatiently, "I am yet to hear any proof of what you spoke of."
"I am getting to it," Harry assured her quickly. "As I said, I have a history with Voldemort but it did not end when I was a baby. No. I later met him… fought him… in every one of my Hogwarts years except one."
"W-what?" she asked in surprise. "What are you talking about?"
Harry was not sure how much of his adventures in Hogwarts were common knowledge. Daphne's reaction seemed genuine so perhaps most of it was not. "I should probably start from the beginning," he finally said. He then briefly explained his encounter with Voldemort in his first year in the form of the possessed professor Quirrell.
"He was able to possess people when in spirit form?" Daphne asked with curiosity and when Harry nodded, she frowned and said, "That does not seem possible. Disembodied soul has no magical power on the corporeal plane. It's the most fundamental law of soul magic."
Harry once wondered about the same thing. How Voldemort managed to do all that he did even while supposedly less powerful than even a ghost. "I think he could take possession only if the host was willing… Quirrell accepted his spirit inside him," he told her.
"Yes, I suppose that makes sense," she admitted after considering his words for a while. "In that case, it was the host who pulled his spirit in rather than the other way around," Daphne wondered out loud seemingly to herself before focusing on Harry again. "Go on."
At her instruction, he moved on to the second year and the chamber of secrets. Closer to the truth.
And that's where the questions, the doubts and the incredulity really started.
"A basilisk?!" Daphne cried out and looked at him from across the table with thunderous expression. "You expect me to believe that you fought a basilisk as a twelve-year-old and survived? You-" she was about to stand and yell at him. Perhaps even punish him for his lies. But then she abruptly fell silent as she connected the dots and the truth dawned on her.
"The sword of Gryffindor… you killed the basilisk with the sword, didn't you?" she asked with trembling voice as she slumped back into her chair. During their entire conversation, she had her hand on the table, casually holding onto her wand. She gripped it a little tighter at this point.
Harry was puzzled and wondered how she figured it out. He did not get to tell her how he killed the Basilisk yet. "Yes, I did. How- how did you know?" he asked.
Daphne stared at him in awe for a moment longer before she shook it off and shrugged. "I know the sword is imbued with some unknown poison. I did not understand how you could have used it to destroy the locket… a poison should have no effect on a horcrux," she said and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing. "Now it all makes sense… the sword is made from goblin silver. The goblin silver absorbs powers of its foes and basilisk poison is so deadly because it harms both the body and the soul," she says. "It is reasonable to assume it would be able to destroy a horcrux," she finished and Harry gaped at her.
He could understand why Hermione felt so threatened by Daphne Greengrass. The pureblood witch in front of him was no ditzy blonde but rather a highly intelligent woman. Quite possibly more so than even his friend. After all, it took Hermione days of research and months of thinking and discussions between the three of them to arrive at half the facts this girl seemed to reach in seconds.
"How do you know all this?" he asked her incredulously. "All I knew was that horcrux had to be destroyed beyond magical repair…" he said, remembering what Hermione read and interpreted for him.
"Beyond magical repair?" Daphne repeated Hermione's words mockingly and chuckled afterwards. "And who would say something so stupid? Nothing is beyond magic! Magic is might!" she said with absolute conviction. "You simply need magic which obliterates souls, not just the physical object. Hellfire is such magic and the only historically documented method of destroying horcruxes."
"You mean that there is another way?!" he exclaimed in shock. "I did not need the sword?" he asked and Daphne nodded in confirmation. "You did not."
Harry could not believe what he was hearing. They wasted months unable to destroy the locket before they finally came upon the blasted sword!
"You mean you didn't know?" she asked him and rolled her eyes. "Only you Potter… only you can go on a mission to destroy horcruxes and not know how to destroy them," she said and tittered.
It felt like she was mocking him again but this time, Harry could not blame her for it. In hindsight, they really were unprepared for their quest. He knew that now.
Daphne then interrupted his self-pity with her next words. "With that said, you don't need to feel that bad. Your method of destroying those abominations is much better than summoning a fire demon. It is uncontrollable and almost always kills whoever summons it," she told him before looking at him strangely. "In fact, you should get an order of Merlin for discovering a safer way," she said, essentially giving him a compliment.
"Thank you… lady Greengrass," he said, paying her one last bit of respect before he would shatter her world into piece. He took a deep breath as he readied himself.
"After I killed the Basilisk, I spoke with young version of Voldemort from the diary and he told me everything… his name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He grew up in a muggle orphanage. He's a halfblood with a muggle father and a nearly squib mother," he told her with a straight poker face.
Daphne stared right back at him before she burst out in laughter. "Tom Marvolo Riddle?" she repeated while making air quotes. "Muggle orphanage?! You had a whole night to come up with a good lie and that's the best you can do Potter?" she asked, shaking her head in disappointment.
It was clear to Harry she did not believe a single word he said but the boy-who-lived had one last trick up his sleeve. "Write the name down," he told her.
"Excuse me?" the haughty blonde bristled at his commanding tone. "You don't give orders here, Harry. You'd do well to remember that."
"Just do it… please," Harry said in a more conciliatory manner.
The girl stared at him for a moment before she sighed. "If you are wasting my time…" Daphne warned him even as she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and wrote the name down. She kept one eye and her wand on Harry the entire time.
"It's M-a-r…" he tried to be helpful. "I know how it's spelled!" Daphne replied crossly. "It's not popular nowadays but I know the name," she explained. She finished writing the three words and said, "Well, what am I supposed to see?"
Harry could not help but smirk. The moment of truth was coming. "The dark lord's name is an anagram of his original name," he said and then added. "Of his muggle name that he got from his father. Just try to rearrange the letters and you will see."
"I sincerely hope so, Harry," the pureblood witch told him in skeptical voice. "Because you just reached the end of my patience."
She then went to write the individual letters down while crossing them out of Tom's name. Harry watched her intently. He saw as the shock and disbelief gradually blossomed on her face. It was perhaps childish of him but he immensely enjoyed the sight. Seeing Lady Daphne Greengrass realize that her vaunted pureblood champion was nothing more than a filthy halfblood with even more mundane origin than most other halfbloods.
When she was finished, she just gaped at the parchment like a fish, seemingly unable to perform any other action. So great was her shock that her focus was no longer even on him. He could perhaps make a grab for her wand. But he knew that her guards would likely kill Hermione sooner than he could reach her. Besides, he was enjoying the sight damn too much!
"Do you believe me now?" he finally asked her and he watched as her eyes left the parchment and slowly looked up at him.
"Well, the evidence seems fairly conclusive," she admitted quietly and inside Harry was doing a happy 'I-told-you-so' dance. But then she added, "That is, if this Tom Marvolo Riddle is real and not just a very clever trick from you."
Harry's happy dance abruptly came to a screeching halt. "Are you bloody serious?! You still don't believe me?" he asked her. Daphne kept staring at him, seemingly evaluating that question right now. Harry shook his head and said, "You think I am clever enough to make up something like that?!"
Daphne raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "I know you are way smarter than you let on," she said and then added. "Besides, you have to admit that it sounds ridiculous. I mean, rearranging letters of your name... that's just so childish."
Harry had to agree with her on that. But it was not his fault that Voldemort was essentially a teenager with some serious daddy issues.
"Is there anything I can do to convince you?" Harry wondered out loud.
Daphne twirled her wand in her hand. "I suppose I could dig through your head again. See what happened in the Chamber for myself," she said and Harry mentally braced himself for having his brain scrambled.
But then she lowered her hand back to the table. "I am not going to do that. Not after what happened last time. You have some strange natural mental defenses."
Harry sighed in relief even though it left him in a pickle. How else can he convince her?
"There is one way to know for sure," Daphne suddenly said. She stood up and went over to one of the paintings hanging behind her office table.
"What are you doing?" he asked even as she levitated the painting away with her wand, revealing there was actually a built-in vault in the wall behind it. "Do not move from that chair," she warned him but he had no intention of doing so. He watched with interest as Daphne opened the vault. He could not see much of what was inside before she seemingly found what she was looking for and shut the door.
She turned back around to face him, holding the object carefully with both her slightly shaking hands. It looked like a flat piece of wood with some metal clippings on sides.
"What is that?" he asked in confusion.
Daphne did not answer him. Instead, she went closer and placed the object on the table, revealing its other side. At last, Harry could see it was actually a picture frame holding a photograph of a group of people. He could not see any of them clearly this far away but then Daphne pushed the picture frame over to him.
"Tell me if you recognize any of these people," she told him.
Harry looked between her and the frame before he pulled it closer and focused on the photograph. All the men and women in the picture were expensively dressed and had rather stern expressions. Few of them were smiling but it was a haughty arrogant smile. Similar to how Daphne sometimes smiled, actually.
Harry went through the faces. Nobody immediately stroke him as familiar and he wondered who these people were and why was Daphne showing them to him. But then he finally came to one of the men standing on the far right and he gasped in shock.
"That's him, that's Voldemort! I mean Riddle!" he said, pointing at the handsome young men with a cruel smile.
He looked up at the girl in front of him and frowned in worry when he saw her lower lip quiver at his declaration.
"That's a very rare and old photograph," she spoke in soft voice, answering his unspoken question. "It shows the original group of people the dark lord gathered in the fifties. The first death eaters. My grandfather is the third one from the left," Daphne explained with a hint of pride that rang hollow now. Harry briefly glanced at the man before she moved on.
"The one you pointed out is indeed the dark lord," Daphne admitted and then added in bitter voice. "He was quite handsome back then, wasn't he? He's unrecognizable now."
"I guess," Harry agreed.
"And there is no way you could have known who he was, not unless… not unless…" she wanted to continue but her voice failed her.
Harry finished for her. "… not unless I really met him before and I was telling you the truth."
She paused before looking him straight in the eyes. The icy blue, always so strong and powerful suddenly seemed tired and lifeless as she answered him simply. "Yes."
Harry nodded in satisfaction. At last, he convinced her.
"So what exactly does this mean?" Daphne spoke. Her voice was breaking and Harry could see she was close to a panic attack. "The dark lord is a filthy halfblood son of a muggle? We've all been tricked to support a mongrel?!" she yelled.
She screamed some more profanities at Voldemort but Harry did not pick them up. Instead, he took joy in the fact that the pureblood witch in front of him was finally getting what she deserved.
Daphne Greengrass took them prisoners, humiliated him at every turn and constantly threatened their lives. All in the name of the dark lord that she saw as the champion and salvation for purebloods everywhere. And now she was having her entire world destroyed. If that was not poetic justice, Harry was not sure what was.
When the opportunity presented itself, Harry could not help but to twist the knife so to speak.
"My father… he died for him… he died for-" Daphne spoke in broken voice, her eyes misty.
"He died for a filthy halfblood son of a muggle," Harry completed the thought for her.
Once he spoke the words, their eyes met again and he saw her eyes fill up with tears. The girl gave him one last hateful stare before walking over to the large window overlooking the gardens.
She then looked outside without speaking, her face turned away from him.
Harry's utter conviction that Daphne was getting what she deserved evaporated as soon as he saw the tears on her beautiful face. Instead, all the instincts in him demanded that he comforts her somehow.
"Daphne, I am so sor-" Harry began to say but she interrupted him. "Don't you fucking dare say it, Potter!" she hissed in angry but tired voice. "Just… don't," she said without even turning to face him.
He knew there was nothing more he could say or do so he just sat there silently as Daphne softly cried next to the window.
