The Slytherin common room was as tense as ever, but tonight, the tension was different. The air was thick with whispered conversations, each one laced with the names of powerful families and ancient houses. From the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts, he had felt the weight of being a Potter, but now, it was as if that weight was fully pressing down on him, a constant reminder of the world he had been thrust into.
Sitting near the fireplace, Harry absently stroked Stheno, who coiled lazily around his wrist. His mind was far from the book of spells he had been practicing. Instead, his thoughts were consumed by the recent discovery of just how influential the Potters had been in the wizarding world.
"Harry." Daphne's voice cut through the murmur of the common room as she gracefully slid into the seat beside him. She, too, had felt the shift in their dynamic—how much her own family's reputation relied on who she chose to associate with. But for the first time, Daphne was beginning to see Harry not just as a blind boy she had to guide but as someone with the potential to change the very structure of Slytherin politics.
"You've been quiet," she continued, eyeing the book in front of him but knowing his mind was elsewhere. "Is it about the Potter accounts you were reading?"
Ever since they had made their friendship official, Harry and Daphne had taken to spending more time together in the dungeons. Whether in quiet companionship or discussing the intricacies of Slytherin politics, they found a natural rhythm that allowed them to relax in each other's presence. Sitting together in the Slytherin common room had become a frequent occurrence, both reading and talking about whatever crossed their minds. There was an easy chemistry between them, something neither had expected but both appreciated. They got along well—better than either of them could have imagined at the start of the year.
Harry nodded, turning his head slightly in her direction. His expression was neutral, but Daphne could sense the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"Turns out my family was more than just wealthy," Harry said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of the discovery. "I found out they held significant power in the Wizengamot—one of the founding families of Britain." He paused, feeling the enormity of it all crashing down on him. "Only the Black and Longbottom families hold similar stature in Wizarding Britain. There were others, but most of them have died out. The Potters weren't just respected and feared—they were political giants. And now... now I'm expected to step into that role, to carry that legacy."
As the words left his mouth, a wave of anxiety tightened in his chest. His mind raced, filled with a thousand doubts and uncertainties. It wasn't just the legacy of a family—this was a political powerhouse, a lineage rooted in centuries of influence and authority. The future that lay ahead of him felt like a mountain he wasn't sure he could climb. What if he failed? What if he couldn't live up to the name?
The pressure was immense. He had spent his whole life believing he was just another forgotten boy, overlooked and unwanted. And now... now he was expected to be more, to shoulder responsibilities he had never even known existed. The thought made his stomach twist with unease. He didn't feel ready for any of it—how could he be? The world was changing around him faster than he could process, and no matter how much knowledge he absorbed, the looming expectations felt suffocating.
Daphne's presence was grounding, but even she couldn't lift the overwhelming weight that had settled in his mind. He didn't know how to navigate this world of politics and legacy, and the idea of failing not just himself, but the generations of Potters before him, sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Daphne leaned back, her own thoughts racing. "That's how it works here. Everything is about legacy and influence." She hesitated, then added, "You're more than just a student, Harry. The Potters are a symbol, and in Slytherin, symbols have power. People are already watching you. They're waiting to see how you'll use that power."
Harry sighed. "I never asked for this. I never wanted to be a player in some political game."
Daphne's gaze softened, a flicker of empathy in her usually guarded eyes. She understood all too well the weight that Harry now carried because she had felt it her entire life. When she spoke, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable than Harry had ever heard before. "You don't have a choice. None of us do. Not here. Not in Slytherin, and definitely not in our world."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them. Harry felt her words settle heavily in the air, and he sensed she was about to say something more.
"It's the same for me," Daphne continued, her voice holding a bitterness she rarely allowed to show. "My family legacy—it's not just about being powerful or influential. It's about what I'm expected to do with that power. I'm supposed to become someone they can use. Marry me off for the benefit of the Greengrass name. Make connections. Secure alliances." Her eyes flicked to the flames as she spoke, her voice growing more distant. "It sounds like a dream to some people, to come from a family like ours. But the truth is, it's a cage. And no matter how much power or influence we have, we're trapped."
Harry listened in silence, feeling the weight of her words pressing against his own fears. He hadn't thought much about how the expectations of these influential families could feel like chains. For the first time, he understood that Daphne wasn't just guiding him out of obligation—she was living in the same prison of expectations that he was now discovering.
"You get to a point where you just... want to run away," Daphne admitted, her voice almost a whisper now. "Away from the titles, the expectations, the deals made over your future. But there's no escape. Not for us. We're stuck in it, and all we can do is try to survive it." She let out a breath, her gaze finally meeting Harry's again. "It leaves you feeling like a prisoner. A prisoner to your name, your family, your future."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine, not from fear but from the understanding that he wasn't alone in his feelings. The weight of legacy was suffocating them both, trapping them in roles they hadn't chosen but were forced to accept.
"You have to be careful," Daphne said suddenly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You've already made waves by showing your intelligence and ability in class. And now that you're using the Potter name, you're going to draw even more attention. Not all of it will be good."
Harry tilted his head slightly, considering her words. "You mean from people like Draco and Mulciber?"
Daphne nodded. "Exactly. They come from influential families, too. Well, the Malfoys, not the Mulciber's. Regardless, they'll see you as a threat. You've already shown you're not just going to fade into the background. They won't ignore you anymore."
Harry leaned forward, his expression hardening. "Let them come. I'm not afraid of them."
Daphne smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "That's not the point, Harry. It's not about fear. It's about survival." She paused, her eyes flicking toward a group of older Slytherins who were huddled together, their eyes occasionally darting toward them. "You need allies. People who will support you, or at the very least, not stand in your way."
Harry's grip on Stheno tightened slightly, and the snake hissed softly, sensing his unease. "And what about you?" he asked quietly. "Where do you stand in all of this?"
Daphne looked away, her gaze focusing on the flickering flames. "I have my own family to think about. The Greengrasses aren't as powerful as the Malfoys or the Potters, but we're still a respected name. Aligning myself with you... it could be dangerous. But..." She hesitated, then met his gaze, her voice softer now. "It could also be the smartest thing I've ever done."
She paused, a shadow crossing her face as her thoughts darkened. "Not that what I want really matters," she added, her voice tinged with frustration. "In the end, I have to follow whatever my father says. He's the one in control of the family. In control of me. Right now, he wants me on your side, but that could change in an instant. If he decides my future lies somewhere else—if he sees a better opportunity for the family—I won't have a choice. No matter what I think or feel about it."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with the truth of her situation. The bitterness of her reality was stark, and Harry could see how tightly she was bound by her father's ambitions. She wasn't just a player in the game of family politics—she was a piece on the board, moved and manipulated at her father's whim.
"It's not just about survival for me," she continued, her voice quieter now. "It's about doing what I'm told, no matter what I want. For now, it seems like aligning with you is what he wants. But that could change. And when it does... I'll have to go along with it. No matter how much I might want to stay."
Harry studied her face, trying to read the emotions behind her calm exterior. "So, you're choosing to side with me? Politically?"
Daphne's lips curved into a small smile, though there was a glint of uncertainty in her eyes. "For now, yes. But that doesn't mean it's easy. There are a lot of expectations on me, too. And people will question why I'm aligning myself with someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Harry repeated, raising an eyebrow. "A blind wizard? Or a Potter?"
"Both," Daphne admitted. "But that's also why it could work. You're... different. You're not what anyone expected, and that gives you an advantage. People don't know how to deal with you."
Harry let out a small, humorless laugh. "Well, at least I'm keeping them on their toes."
Daphne's expression softened slightly, and for the first time, there was a hint of genuine warmth in her smile. "That's what makes you dangerous, Harry. You've already proven that you're not going to be pushed around. But you need to be smart about this. You can't fight every battle alone. Gather allies, both in Slytherin and outside. The more powerful the better."
The fire crackled between them as Harry considered her words. He had never been one to rely on others—his entire life had been a lesson in self-reliance. But here, in this house of serpents, he was beginning to see that survival wasn't just about strength or intelligence. It was about alliances, strategy, and knowing when to fight and when to lay low.
"I'll think about it," Harry said finally, his tone measured.
Daphne nodded, her expression serious. "Just remember, Harry. The Potters may have been powerful, but power doesn't last forever. Just like the other families that are just a part of the history books now, so too could be the Potter's if your not careful. You need to be smart. And you need to have people you can trust."
Harry glanced around the common room, his eyes lingering on the older students who were still watching him. "Trust doesn't come easily here," he muttered.
Daphne's gaze followed his. "No. It doesn't."
The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them, the weight of their shared confessions lingering in the air. Both Harry and Daphne felt the unspoken understanding pass between them—the burden of family expectations, the fear of being controlled, and the desire to break free from it all.
Daphne glanced at the clock on the mantel, her expression shifting slightly as she sighed. "We should go," she said, her voice returning to its usual calm. "Hermione is expecting us in the library soon."
Harry nodded, feeling the tension of the conversation slowly release as they both stood. "Right," he said. "Can't keep her waiting."
For the past few days, the trio had been spending a lot of time in the library, buried in books and scrolls. What had started as simple curiosity about Harry's mentor, Nicholas Flamel, had quickly spiraled into something much larger. Flamel, as it turned out, was connected to something extraordinary—the Philosopher's Stone.
The moment Harry had mentioned Flamel's name, Hermione had immediately remembered reading about him in one of her books. It hadn't taken long for them to discover that Flamel was the alchemist who had created the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance capable of granting immortality and transforming any metal into pure gold.
Harry had been shocked, to say the least. He had thought Flamel was just another brilliant wizard, but this discovery had opened up a whole new mystery, one that they were determined to unravel. The Philosopher's Stone wasn't just a historical artifact—it was powerful, dangerous, and possibly connected to the strange things happening at Hogwarts.
"Think Hermione's found anything new?" Daphne asked as they walked toward the exit of the common room, her voice a little lighter now, as if their earlier conversation had taken a backseat to the puzzle in front of them.
"Probably," Harry replied with a small smile. "She's always ahead of us."
Daphne smirked. "Good thing we have her on our side."
Together, they made their way to the library, the flickering flames of the Slytherin common room fading behind them. The weight of their family legacies still hung heavy in the background, but for now, they had another mystery to solve—the Philosopher's Stone, and what it meant for them all.
(Scene Break)
Harry and Daphne arrived at the library to find Hermione already seated at a long wooden table, several books spread out before her in neat, organized piles. The warm glow of the lamps overhead bathed the area in a soft light, casting long shadows across the towering shelves filled with ancient tomes. The quiet hum of the library was comforting, and the sight of Hermione so deeply engrossed in her reading brought a small smile to Harry's face.
He felt a sense of calm in the library—a brief escape from the weight of expectations and legacies that had been pressing down on him. As they approached, Hermione looked up from her book and beamed at them, her excitement palpable.
"There you are!" she said brightly, her fingers brushing over the spine of the thick book before her. "I've been reading through these, and I found a few more things we should definitely look into."
They sat down at the table, Harry instinctively finding his place next to Daphne. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the faint rustle of pages being turned in the distance. Daphne set her bag down carefully and pulled a book toward her, flipping it open with practiced ease. They had only just settled in, ready to immerse themselves in the research, when Hermione's voice interrupted their concentration.
"Have either of you heard anything more about the troll from Halloween?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Harry and Daphne exchanged quick glances. "No," Harry said, his brow furrowing slightly as he remembered the confusion of that night. "They just escorted us down to the dungeons and made us wait the whole time. Didn't hear a thing after that."
"Same here," Daphne added, her voice cool and detached. "We were told to stay put and wait for further instructions. Nothing more."
Hermione nodded, looking thoughtful as she absentmindedly twirled a quill between her fingers. "It was the same in Ravenclaw Tower. We were all stuck waiting for hours, and no one told us anything about what really happened. I was hoping someone might've found out more." Her eyes scanned the table as if searching for an answer in the notes and books scattered in front of them.
A brief silence settled over them, the only sound being the distant creak of the library's wooden beams and the occasional flip of a page from a nearby student. Then, as if remembering something important, Hermione's face lit up.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement as she reached for a different book. "I almost forgot—I found a picture of the Philosopher's Stone in one of the books I was reading!"
With a sense of urgency, Hermione flipped through the worn pages of the book until she stopped at a yellowed photograph depicting a vibrant, deep red stone. The stone was smooth and gleamed in the light, its surface polished to perfection. She turned the book toward Daphne, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of discovery.
"Look at this!" Hermione said, her voice practically buzzing with enthusiasm. "It's a deep red stone, not very large, but it's said to hold unimaginable power. It's capable of turning any metal into gold and granting immortality to its owner."
Daphne leaned forward, studying the image closely, her brow furrowing as she took in the details. "It looks... unassuming, but I suppose something that powerful wouldn't need to be flashy," she murmured. She glanced at Harry, who sat quietly, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the table. "Hermione, can you describe it to Harry?"
"Of course!" Hermione said, turning her attention to Harry. "It's a small stone, about the size of an egg, deep red, with a polished surface. It's said to be the Philosopher's Stone, the one Nicholas Flamel created, the legendary artifact that can turn metal into gold and grant eternal life."
As Hermione spoke, Harry listened intently, his mind slowly drifting away from the present and back to something that tugged at the edges of his memory. The description of the stone—it sounded so familiar. He frowned slightly, concentrating on the sensation that the words stirred within him. It was as though he had seen this stone before, but that didn't make sense. He couldn't see.
Then, it hit him.
His thoughts rushed back to that day at Gringotts, the clattering of the cart as it sped through the dimly lit tunnels beneath Diagon Alley. He remembered the jarring stop before his vault—the confusion that had filled him when Hagrid explained they were making a brief stop to pick something up for Dumbledore.
"It's a stone," Hagrid had muttered under his breath, immediately regretting his words. Harry had pressed him then, curious about why a stone was being kept in such a high-security vault.
"A special stone," Hagrid had replied, flustered. "Capable of making ya live forever." And then, almost comically, he had followed with, "Shouldn't have said that."
Harry's heart raced as the memory flooded back, the pieces falling into place. The stone Hagrid had picked up—it wasn't just any stone. It was the Philosopher's Stone.
"Daphne... Hermione..." Harry's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant as the realization dawned on him. "I've seen the stone before."
Both girls looked at him, startled, their eyes wide with surprise. "What do you mean?" Daphne asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"When Hagrid took me to Gringotts for the first time," Harry began, his voice steady but filled with the weight of realization, "we made a stop before my vault. He said it was to pick up a stone for Dumbledore. At first, he didn't want to tell me what it was, but he let slip that it was a special stone... one that could make someone live forever."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. "Harry... that's the Philosopher's Stone!" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper. "It has to be!"
Harry nodded slowly, the full gravity of the situation settling in his chest like a heavy weight. "Hagrid said they were bringing it to Hogwarts because it would be safer here."
A thick silence fell over them as they processed the enormity of this revelation. The Philosopher's Stone, a legendary artifact of immense power, wasn't just a story in a dusty old book—it was real. And it was here, at Hogwarts, hidden somewhere within the ancient castle walls.
Daphne broke the silence first, her voice low and contemplative. "So, it's here... the stone that can grant eternal life. I wonder why it's so important to keep it hidden at Hogwarts. There must be more to it than we know."
"Maybe," Hermione added thoughtfully, her fingers nervously toying with the edge of her book, "there's something else Dumbledore knows. Something he hasn't told anyone yet."
Harry sat back, his thoughts swirling with a mix of awe and unease. The Philosopher's Stone was more than just an alchemical curiosity—it was the key to immortality, a source of untold power. And he had been in its presence without even knowing what it truly was.
"It's hard to believe," Harry muttered, almost to himself. "I've been near the stone before... and I didn't even realize it."
Hermione leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "Now we do know, Harry. And we have to keep looking into this. If the Philosopher's Stone is here, there's got to be more to the story."
The three of them sat in silence for a moment longer, each lost in their own thoughts. The quiet hum of the library seemed to fade into the background as the weight of their discovery loomed over them. They had stumbled upon something far bigger than they had ever imagined—a secret that could change everything.
Finally, Daphne spoke, her voice calm but resolute. "We'll figure this out. The Philosopher's Stone might be here, but we're going to find out why. I want to see this stone for myself."
As her words settled into the silence between them, a sudden memory flashed in Harry's mind. He remembered Dumbledore's warning at the very start of the school year, when the headmaster had stood before the Great Hall, his voice carrying over the crowd.
"Stay away from the third-floor corridor," Dumbledore had said, his tone unusually grave. "If you wish to avoid a most horrible death."
Harry's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him. The stone—it had to be hidden there, behind whatever deadly protections Dumbledore had put in place. The third-floor corridor wasn't just off-limits for no reason. The Philosopher's Stone was being guarded there.
"The third floor," Harry murmured, his voice low but insistent.
Daphne and Hermione both turned to him, confused. "What?" Daphne asked, her brow furrowed.
"The third-floor corridor," Harry repeated, his heart starting to pound with the realization. "At the start of the year, Dumbledore warned everyone to stay away from the third-floor corridor. He said if we wanted to avoid a most horrible death, we should steer clear of it."
Hermione's eyes widened as the pieces started to fit together in her mind. "You think the Philosopher's Stone is being kept there?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and concern.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Harry replied. "Dumbledore brought the stone here because it needed protection. He wouldn't just leave it in some ordinary vault or room. That corridor must be where he's keeping it—guarded by something dangerous."
Daphne sat back in her chair, her fingers drumming lightly on the table as she considered this new information. "So, the third floor... it's not just a forbidden corridor. It's a trap. A place designed to keep anyone from getting close to the stone."
Hermione glanced between them, her voice hushed. "But why keep something so dangerous here at Hogwarts? Why not leave it at Gringotts or somewhere else far away from students?"
Harry shook his head, the answer still eluding him. "I don't know. But if Dumbledore went to such lengths to hide it here, there has to be a reason. We just don't know what it is yet."
The atmosphere between them grew tense as they processed this revelation. The Philosopher's Stone, capable of granting immortality, was hidden in the very school they called home, behind a deadly barrier that none of them could hope to breach—at least, not without significant risk.
Daphne's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "If the stone is really there, we need to figure out why Dumbledore chose Hogwarts. And more importantly..." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "We should see it for ourselves. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."
"I know," Harry said quietly. "We'll be careful. But we can't ignore this. We're in too deep now."
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "You can't be serious! You're not actually considering going to the third-floor corridor, are you?"
Daphne looked at Harry, her lips curling into identical smirks. Harry leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his tone casual. "Of course we are. What's the worst that could happen?" Daphne said.
Hermione's panic flared, her voice rising a notch. "A horrible death, as Dumbledore said!" she exclaimed, her eyes darting between them as if they'd lost their minds.
Harry, however, remained unfazed. "Come on, Hermione. This is a school for kids. There's no way Dumbledore would actually let us take that kind of risk. It's got to be a bluff, something to keep students from poking around where they shouldn't."
Daphne nodded in agreement, her voice calm and confident. "Exactly. It's Hogwarts, not some cursed dungeon. He's not going to put something truly deadly in a place where any curious student could stumble upon it."
Hermione hesitated, the logic of their argument beginning to settle in. She wrung her hands nervously, glancing between them again. "Well... I suppose that makes sense. I mean, what kind of headmaster would actually put students at that much risk? Accidents do happen."
Harry's smirk grew as he leaned forward, locking eyes with Hermione. "Exactly. So, it's settled then—we're going to the third-floor corridor."
Hermione bit her lip, still uneasy but unable to find a counterargument. Finally, she sighed, conceding with a reluctant nod. "Alright. But I'm still not convinced this is a good idea."
Daphne smiled, already standing and gathering her things. "Good ideas are overrated, anyway."
Harry, still seated, looked up at her with a thoughtful expression. "So, when are we going to do this?"
Daphne paused for a moment, glancing at Hermione before turning back to Harry. "After Christmas break," she said confidently. "It gives us time to prepare, to gather as much information as we can before making any moves."
Harry nodded, satisfied with the plan. "Alright. That makes sense. We'll be ready."
Hermione still looked a bit uneasy, but she finally nodded her agreement, her voice quieter now. "Fine. After Christmas. But we need to be careful. Really careful."
As they made their way out of the library, their footsteps echoing in the quiet halls, the decision was final. They were going to the third-floor corridor after Christmas break, determined to uncover the secrets behind the Philosopher's Stone—consequences be damned.
(Scene Break)
The chill of winter had settled over Hogwarts, painting the ancient castle in shades of white and grey. The usual clamor of students running through the halls and chattering in excitement had died down, replaced by the quiet preparation for the upcoming holidays. For most of the students, the excitement came from thoughts of returning home, reuniting with family, and escaping the demands of schoolwork. For Harry, however, Christmas at Hogwarts held a different weight.
As he sat in the nearly deserted Great Hall for breakfast, staring at the half-empty tables, Harry's mind wandered. He could hear the whispers of nearby students as they excitedly talked about their plans for the holiday, but the conversation only deepened his sense of isolation. The thought of returning to the Dursleys' house over Christmas made his stomach churn. Going back to the cold, empty room where he spent so many holidays before Hogwarts… It wasn't something he could bear anymore.
For a brief moment, he considered staying at Hogwarts. The castle, even in its stillness, felt more like home than the Dursleys' house ever had. The thought of spending quiet days in the library or wandering the snowy grounds was appealing. But then, the idea hit him: he didn't have to stay at Hogwarts to avoid the Dursleys. Why not go to Diagon Alley? The thought came like a flash of inspiration, sparking a warmth in him. He could stay at the Leaky Cauldron, just as he had before his first year at Hogwarts. He wouldn't have to be alone—he could explore, study, and take control of his life in a way he hadn't been able to before.
Harry knew Dumbledore would disapprove. The headmaster always insisted on sending him back to the Dursleys, citing the protections that Aunt Petunia's home offered. But this time, Harry didn't care. He wasn't a child anymore, and he had begun to realize that he could make his own decisions about his life. Dumbledore's reasoning seemed more like a cage now than a shield. Harry had a family legacy to uphold, a name to live up to, and staying in that cold house wasn't going to help him achieve any of that. No, he would spend Christmas differently this year.
The decision brought with it a sense of relief, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His mind was made up. He would go to Diagon Alley. And he knew exactly where he would start.
Days had passed in a quiet, almost surreal blur as the final hours of the term dwindled down. The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily along the tracks, its rhythmic hum creating a familiar, soothing backdrop for the trio seated together in their compartment. Outside the frosted window, snow-dusted trees blurred into a tapestry of white and gray, the endless stretch of wintry countryside adding to the feeling that they were traveling away from something significant.
Harry sat next to Daphne, the faint warmth of her presence beside him a comfort in the cold compartment. Her arms were crossed over her chest, wrapped snugly in a dark winter coat that matched her composed demeanor. Her gaze, like his, drifted out of the window, though her thoughts seemed far away. Across from them sat Hermione, her nose buried in a thick book, though her eyes flickered up from the pages now and again, betraying the fact that her mind wasn't entirely on her reading.
The atmosphere between them was thick with unspoken feelings, and though they hadn't spoken much since leaving Hogwarts, there was a strange significance to the silence. The three of them knew this holiday break would be different. For Hermione, the anticipation of seeing her parents was palpable, though Harry could sense her usual hesitation—an unwillingness to leave the magic of Hogwarts behind, even for a few weeks. For Daphne, however, the prospect of returning to her family estate seemed less than appealing. She hadn't said much about it, but Harry could sense the tension beneath her usually cool exterior.
As for Harry, the idea of spending Christmas with the Dursleys was unbearable. Every time he thought of their cold, indifferent treatment, he felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Hogwarts had become his sanctuary, but now, even Hogwarts seemed like a temporary escape. That's why, in a rare moment of resolve, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. Rather than returning to that awful house, he would head to Diagon Alley. He would spend Christmas on his own terms, no longer shackled by Dumbledore's insistence that he go back to the Dursleys. It was time to take control of his life and claim his place as the heir to the Potter family.
"You sure you'll be alright, Harry?" Hermione's voice broke through the quiet, pulling Harry from his thoughts.
She lowered her book, watching him with concerned eyes. "You know, my parents said you're more than welcome to come and spend the break with us. It's not too late—you could still come with me if you wanted to."
Hermione's offer was sincere, and her kind smile made Harry's heart swell with appreciation. For a fleeting moment, he considered it. The thought of spending Christmas in a warm home with the Grangers, sharing meals and conversation in a welcoming environment, was tempting. But he knew deep down that he couldn't accept. He had a different path to walk.
Harry smiled, the warmth of their friendship washing over him. "I appreciate that, Hermione, but... I've got plans."
Hermione's brow furrowed slightly, and she lowered her book even further. "Plans?" she echoed, her tone gently skeptical. "What kind of plans?"
"Just... plans," Harry replied with a faint smile, his voice deliberately vague. He didn't want to reveal too much yet, not until he was sure everything was set in motion.
Daphne, sensing the undercurrent of curiosity in Hermione's gaze, smirked from her seat beside Harry. Her sharp blue eyes flicked between them, a hint of amusement dancing on her features. "He's being mysterious, Granger. Just let him have his secrets."
Hermione huffed lightly, though the concern didn't leave her face. "Fine, fine," she muttered, but her eyes still lingered on Harry for a moment longer, as if trying to puzzle out what he was planning. Despite her worries, Hermione trusted Harry—she always had. She wouldn't push him for answers, at least not now.
The train continued its steady journey, and the soft murmur of other students in nearby compartments grew quieter as the distance between them and Hogwarts widened. Harry could feel the weight of the upcoming break settling in, the anticipation of what lay ahead swirling in his chest. He was on the verge of something new, something monumental.
As the Hogwarts Express began to slow, signaling their arrival at King's Cross, Harry felt the tension in the compartment shift. Daphne let out a soft sigh beside him, her gaze still fixed on the snow-covered landscape. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were bracing herself for something she didn't want to face.
"Well," she said softly, her voice carrying a resigned note, "I suppose this is it."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, though his tone lacked the usual enthusiasm that marked the end of the school term. "I guess so."
Across from them, Hermione tucked her book into her bag with a careful hand. She glanced between her two friends, a soft smile pulling at her lips. "I'll miss you two over the break. Try not to get into too much trouble," she said, her eyes landing pointedly on Harry.
Harry grinned, the familiar spark of mischief lighting up his features. "I'll do my best. You too."
The three of them stood as the train pulled into the station, the clattering of trunks and the hurried shuffle of students filling the narrow corridor outside their compartment. The cold winter air rushed in as the doors opened, and they joined the throng of students heading for the platform.
As they stepped onto the platform, the familiar sights and sounds of King's Cross greeted them—the loud chatter of reunited families, the shrill call of the train whistle, the sharp bite of winter wind against their faces. Harry adjusted his bag on his shoulder, feeling Stheno shift slightly in the pocket of his coat, her presence a quiet reassurance.
Hermione turned to them, her eyes bright but a touch sad. "Take care of yourselves, alright?"
"You too, Hermione," Harry replied, his voice soft but warm. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Hermione, always quick to offer comfort, hugged him back just as firmly.
When they pulled apart, Hermione gave him one last look, her concern lingering beneath her usual logical exterior. "And, Harry... if you change your mind, you're always welcome at my house. Just let me know."
"I will," Harry promised, though they both knew his path was set. With a final smile, Hermione waved and disappeared into the crowd, her parents waiting for her near the station's entrance.
Harry took a moment before turning back to Daphne, who stood beside him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if shielding herself from more than just the cold.
Daphne didn't need to say anything for Harry to know she wasn't looking forward to going home. Her family estate, despite its wealth and grandeur, wasn't the kind of place where warmth and affection were in abundance. The thought of leaving Hogwarts, of leaving the rare friendships she had formed, clearly weighed on her.
"I know you don't want to go," Harry said softly, breaking the silence. He offered her a small, comforting smile. "But maybe next year, you won't have to. Maybe next year, you could take Christmas break with me instead."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across her face. "And where exactly would we go?" she asked, her tone laced with a touch of dry humor.
Harry's grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. "Didn't you know? My family is really rich. Maybe we could go somewhere fancy. How about France?"
Daphne's laugh was soft but genuine, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "France, huh? Well, I think I'd like that."
There was a beat of quiet between them, the noise of the station fading into the background as they stood there, sharing a moment of connection. To Harry's surprise, Daphne stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, genuine hug. For a moment, Harry was caught off guard, but then he happily returned the embrace, feeling the warmth of their friendship settle over him.
"Take care of yourself, Potter," Daphne murmured against his shoulder, her voice softer than usual.
"You too, Greengrass," Harry replied, a grin tugging at his lips.
They pulled apart, and with one last lingering glance, Daphne was swept away by a family servant, her expression guarded once more as she disappeared into the crowd. Harry listened as she went, a strange feeling of both loss and anticipation swirling inside him.
For a moment, he lingered on the platform, listening as families reunited, students were whisked away, and the world around him moved on. But Harry had made his choice. He adjusted his bag, took a deep breath, and stepped into the crowd, knowing exactly where he was headed next with Stheno's guidance.
It was time to visit Gringotts. It was time to take an active role in his family.
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