Chapter 2 - They Meet.
Harry listened animatedly while he and Hermione descended the Grand Staircase to the library that evening, their footsteps echoing off the bald stone.
"I wonder what it says?" Hermione mused, "I didn't realise there were special books on politics and noble houses. What's it like? Why didn't you bring it with you? Can I borrow it?"
"I told you, no," Harry replied firmly. "Neville asked me to keep it between me and him. It's his family's only copy, and is apparently very expensive–only given to heirs of Ancient and Noble families."
"But magical government is fascinating!" Hermione replied, her eyes wild with enthusiasm, "Harry, the Ancient houses are the ones that vote on the Wizengamot. The Potter house is one of them - you get to help decide the laws in the Wizarding World."
"Yes, I know. More pressure," Harry said sarcastically.
"It's a big deal, Harry! Think of all the progress we could make!"
Harry didn't say aloud that he'd be the one making the progress, not Hermione. But the thought crossed his mind, accompanied by an image of how unbearable she'd been with SPEW. If Hermione thought she could influence his vote, there'd be no end to the crusades she'd launch.
"I think the book was more about traditions and behaviour than the Wizengamot by the looks of it," Harry said, trying to deflect her enthusiasm. "Essentially, how to act like Malfoy."
"Or Neville," Hermione pointed out, "He acts pretty honourably."
"Of course he does, it's Neville. He's great."
"I didn't realise you were that close."
"I realised recently we had a lot more in common than I thought. Harry said, a hint of a smile softening his tone. "Plus, he's really funny, he helped me get out of my funk recently."
"I had noticed, I just didn't want to pressure you to tell me anything," Hermione said, her tone softening before becoming more matter-of-fact, "Anyway, he follows the traditions I think. You see him doing those weird bows and stuff."
"It's only to Susan really, though, and loads of people bow at her, even Malfoy does it."
"True, it's like she's royalty sometimes. I bet she thinks she's the Queen!" Hermione said with a wide grin.
Harry rolled his eyes in amusement at Hermione's grin at her own joke. They arrived in the library and quickly made their way to a desk, setting up for a study session. Hermione dived into her Transfiguration essay, but Harry had other plans
Tonight, he was after something else–something that might give him an edge. He needed to believe that Neville was right: that he was destined to find something that would be the key to him beating Voldemort once and for all.
But where to start?
Harry wandered the aisles, glancing at subjects indicated by the plaques affixed to the end of each row.
'Magical creatures? No. Force-based charms? No. Matter manipulation charms? Maybe, but it looks a bit too hard for now. Inanimate to inanimate transfiguration? No. Elemental charms… that could be interesting,' Harry thought as he wandered down the aisle, scanning the titles
Finally, he settled on a thick tome titled Light Manipulation, for Secrecy and Combat by Helios Lux. His reasoning felt sound: if there were curses considered the darkest of the dark, surely some spells around light could serve as effective counters. Right? Even if not, spells around secrecy and evading detection would definitely come in handy.
He pulled down the heavy book, its weight settling in his hands as he flipped through its yellowed parchment pages. But as he scanned its contents, a frustrated, musical voice drifted from an alcove at the end of the row.
Harry paused, his curiosity piqued. He half-recognised it, but couldn't quite place who it belonged to.
"Who knew Professor Dumbledore would love giving impossible spells to research for homework? How on earth am I meant to understand this stupid theory? It doesn't make sense. It's Protego for Merlin's sake!"
Harry smirked to himself. Another student struggling with the assignments Dumbledore had been setting them ever since Moody, well, Barty Crouch Junior had left.
The voice continued, tinged with annoyance. "Father said in the last war, the Death Eaters wouldn't stop trying to recruit him, and it almost came to blows. If there's anything that seems like it's important to learn, it's this."
Another voice, softer but no less sharp, quipped back. "More important than hexing Draco's bit off for touching your sister?"
An adorable laugh followed "Yes!"
Harry turned back to the book, though his attention drifted from the text. His flicking became absentminded as he strained to place the voices. Maybe it was Susan and Hannah? Did Susan have a sister?
The context fit - After all, they were talking about the end-of-year assignments that Dumbledore had set them after cancelling exams. Instead of tests, the teachers had been instructed to assign research projects, most of which were heavily focused on self-defence. Harry had noticed. So had everyone else.
Either way, he knew the Protego charm like the back of his hand. He'd had to - this year, he'd crammed in every defensive spell he could while training for the Tournament.
"Ugh, how did Potter even do it in class?" the first voice complained, irritation clear. "He's such a show-off! It makes no sense. How can something be both solid and not? I bet he's teaching Weasley to do it right now."
Harry smirked, ready to set the record straight. He'd make Susan eat her words by proving just how much he'd been paying attention.
"Hey, would you like some…" he began, stepping around the end of the row.
He stopped mid-sentence.
It wasn't Susan and Hannah.
Sitting at the table were two Slytherins he'd definitely noticed before, but had never dared speak to. Up until now, he'd assumed that everyone in their house worshipped Draco Malfoy.
Daphne Greengrass, though, was a name seared into the mind of every red-blooded male in her year. Supremely pretty, with long, cascading, waist-long golden hair and the most stunning bright, blue-grey eyes. Dean Thomas had once claimed he could write a sonnet about those eyes, irises surrounded by a thin, black ring that made them practically glow.
Her body was to die for. She'd started developing early and, as the oldest in their year, boasted full, round breasts. At just 5'3", she was petite, but her finger was the subject of whispered awe - her curves, especially her bottom, were widely hailed as the best in the school. Hell, many thought she was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts.
No wonder she had such a bitch reputation.
Harry had even heard a rumour that she'd frozen Marcus Flint's bits off just for asking her to Hogsmeade. If true, it seemed harsh - but Harry couldn't say he wasn't grateful. Last year, the Slytherin Quidditch team had lost their final two games because Flint's replacement hadn't been even close to his predecessor's level.
Her best friend,Tracey Davis was also well known, though for different reasons. A half-blood who managed to command respect, Tracey had a reputation for being formidable, taking absolutely no shit from anyone who tried to cross her or her friends. Bright and bubbly, with a round but attractive face and thin, mousy brown hair, she was Daphne's constant companion. A lot of the time seemed to be spent fending off suitors who tried to approach Daphne. Tracey's go-to response? Asking if they too wanted their bits frozen.
But It was Daphne's piercing, calculating gaze that met Harry's now. Her blue-grey eyes bore into him as she raised a beautifully arched eyebrow and said coldly:
"Yes?"
The two girls were nothing but intimidating, but Harry had already started, and while he cursed himself for stumbling, his newfound resolve helped him push forward.
"I er… just wondered if you wanted some help with that spell," Harry said, his stomach flipping as he looked between the pair. "It took me a while to get it down last year but it was much easier when I understood the theory."
"And why would you like to help us?" Tracey asked, waggling her fingers together in the air ominously. Aren't all Slytherin's eeeevil?"
"I don't know," Harry asked, smirking "Are you?"
"Oh, definitely," Tracey replied with a laugh.
Daphne didn't join in. Her posture was stiff, and her expression remained cold.
"Me too," Harry said lightly, grinning.
"Oh come off it," Daphne replied haughtily, "You're Dumbledore's pet. Everyone knows that!"
"Am I?" Harry snapped, not knowing where his sudden surge of anger had come from "Even after Dumbledore managed to keep me oh so safe this year? And last year, and the year before that, and the year before that?"
Daphne's eyebrows rose slightly. She placed her hands neatly on her lap, her gaze sharpening.
Harry felt his stomach twist. He'd gone too far. Hadn't Neville warned him to keep his cards close to his chest?
"Sorry," Harry muttered, running a hand through his jet-black hair, "I guess I'm a bit touchy about it. A lot of people think they know me. They do nothing but either hate me, talk about me, or worship me for something I had control over. I'd do anything to not be the Boy Who Lived. I'm just… Harry."
Daphne's features softened. She understood the feeling of being worshipped all too well.
"I'm sorry too." she said. "People assume things about me all the time. It's infuriating."
Tracey's mouth fell open in shock. Daphne, apologising? When was the last time that ever happened?
"It is," Harry agreed, offering her a small smile.
"I don't know if you should help us though," Daphne said, her brow furrowing. "Draco would have my hide. What if someone sees?"
"Fuck Draco," Harry said, incredulously. "Do you really care what he thinks?"
"No way!" Daphne snapped, her nostrils flaring slightly. "It would just cause me trouble, that's all."
"Ah, but wouldn't the Shield Charm protect you from that trouble?" Harry countered with a grin.
Tracey burst out laughing. "He's got you there, Daph!"
"I'm not gonna ask again," Harry said, turning slightly as if to leave. "If you don't want my help-"
"We do," Tracey interrupted, glancing at her friend. "Don't we?"
Hesitantly, Daphne nodded.
Harry smiled, walking to the desk and sitting opposite them. As he settled into his chair, he was immediately aware of the intoxicating scene of perfume coming from one - or both - of the girls.
"So," he asked, trying to focus, "where are you up to?"
Daphne pulled the textbook closer, turned it around and slid it across the desk to him. As she leaned forward to point out something in the text, Harry's eyes flickered down despite himself. The top of her white cotton blouse billowed open slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, flawless skin.
'Merlin,' Harry thought, quickly averting his gaze. He placed a finger next to hers on the yellowing parchment, hoping she hadn't noticed his glance and trying to concentrate on the page - and not on the sudden, slight tightness in his trousers.
"This bit," Daphne said, her voice drawing him back. "How does the spell let friendly spells through but not unfriendly ones? It says something about presence and non-presence at the same time, but I have no idea what he's on about. And why does that matter when I'm casting it?"
"Okay," Harry began, making an effort to speak to both girls and not just Daphne. "So…you need to think about it in the context of a fight in which you cast Protego. You saw it in the class, right? Remember when Dumbledore cast those stinging hexes at me, my shield changed from see-through, to solid?"
Both girls nodded and Harry continued.
"It's about the time when it's see-through," he explained. "When you cast it, your need to shield yourself is based on your understanding of the threat - or who it's coming from. Otherwise, why cast the shield in the first place right?
"That's where people get stuck. Most charms we cast, we expect an immediate result. You cast Wingardium Leviosa, and the feather floats straight away - but you can only maintain it on one item at a time, with that incantation at least. But what if you need to shield from multiple spells at once? You don't want to have to create a shield for every single attack."
Both girls leaned in, paying close attention.
"That's why Protego is so useful," Harry went on, "The size of your shield depends on the magical power of the wizard. Some people can only make a shield the size of a dinner plate - most manage one the size of a medieval shield. But the bigger the shield, the more powerful the wizard."
"But you can cast one twice the size of you!" Tracey interrupted, her eyes widening.
"I can cast bigger than that, but it would've been overkill in the class," Harry replied with an easy smile, nodding at her.
"That's impressive Potter," Daphne said, a hint of admiration in her tone. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Tracey smirked, glancing at her friend. She knew Daphne well - a consummate Slytherin, her interest in power was impossible to miss. Once, Daphne had admitted to Tracey that she'd had the hots for Oliver Wood after seeing him practise for his Charms final. He'd been out in the grounds, surrounding himself with three spinning spheres of different elements, controlling them accurately and at high speed. Tracey had thought Daphne found it hot because it meant the guy would be able to protect her, but she wouldn't dare admit it to Daphne, who hated the idea of being submissive to anyone.
"So were they right then?" Tracey asked, breaking the moment. "Can you cast a full Patronus? They said you fought a couple of hundred Dementors off last year."
"Oh yeah," Harry said proudly, "Professor Lupin taught me," His smile faltered slightly, though, and he added, "I…had to learn it because they made me…"
"Yeah you had a bad time with them I heard," Daphne said, her voice softening. It had been a long while since she'd had an easy conversation with a boy where they didn't have an ulterior motive. She found herself pleased to talk about something he was clearly passionate about.
Lost in thought, she almost missed the shadow that had crossed Harry's expression.
"It's 'cause they made you pass out right?" she asked, then paused, her face going white as she realised what she'd just said. "They did for my sister. They said it's something to do with your…"
She trailed off, her words hanging in the air.
Harry flushed red. "Your memories, yeah," he muttered.
Tracey, ever the blabbermouth but endlessly curious and about as sensitive as a rock, couldn't help herself.
"You mean you remember him? That night? You saw him when you saw the Dementors?" she asked.
Harry paused, wondering whether or not to tell them. The girls seemed friendly, and while it might be a bit revealing, maybe they wouldn't see him as weak if they knew.
"No," he said finally, his voice quieter. "I could hear my screaming mother."
Silence fell over the table. Tracey swallowed hard, her lips parting to apologise.
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, holding up a hand, "I chose to tell you. But at least you know why I was so motivated. This stuff is important. Where were we?"
Daphne, having found her voice again, swallowed and said "You were talking about the size of the shield."
"Ah yes. Okay," Harry said, flipping back into a teaching tone. "So, it can actually be detrimental to have a large shield. The more spells hit it, the greater the drain on your magic. That's why the state of the shield is so important.
"You might need to keep a large shield while others cast for you. But here's the thing: you don't actually need intent when you cast the spell. Simply making the wand movement and saying the incantation–if you need to–creates the shield, and then you adjust the power you put into it to make whatever sized shield you need."
He tried to address both Daphne and Tracey, but Tracey had gone quiet, too busy staring at the desk, clearly ashamed of herself. By now, only Daphne was actively engaging with him.
"You can intentionally change the power you put into it?" she asked, leaning forward.
"You can do that with any spell," Harry replied, as though it were obvious.
"How?" she said, sitting up straighter and leaning closer, her focus fully on him now.
"Yep," Harry thought, "That perfume's definitely coming from her."
"That's a whole other thing," he said aloud. "For most people, there's a lot of innate control. Like, when you cast Incendio on a candle, most people don't automatically burn the whole table. Sometimes, though, you might want to change your power output deliberately. After we're done here, I'll find you a book I used this year. It's got some great techniques for that sort of thing."
"Thanks," Daphne said gratefully, looking into his eyes and offering a small smile. How were they so green? Ugh, he could see why so many girls were talking about him, but she wouldn't allow herself to get all giddy over a boy.
Besides, he was probably just being nice because he only wanted one thing.
"No worries. Right, so here's the important bit… you with us, Tracey?" Harry asked, his tone light but encouraging.
The question seemed to snap her out of her daze, and she nodded quickly as he smiled at her.
"The reason why intent is so important is because the intent is essentially re-added–recast–into the spell every time you want to block something. If we were in a classroom, I could show you but… here's the gist: when channelling the spell-shield in its neutral state, it won't block anything. But the moment you decide you want to block a specific spell, it becomes solid to intercept it.
"The trick is, you have to choose to block each spell as it comes. This takes up a lot of focus, and while you're holding up the shield, it also takes your wand out of the fight. That's why there's such a demand for Wit-Sharpening Potions by the DMLE. In some combat-Auror squads, they even have dedicated shielding experts."
"So why wasn't I able to cast it?" Tracey asked, still looking confused.
"Were you trying to cast straight into the solid state–the "protect" state–to defend against Daphne in your pair?"
"Well… yeah," she said, biting her lip in frustration.
"There you go then," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. "It's nothing to be annoyed about, but you need to cast it initially without the intent. The intent is applied when you see the spell and decide to block it."
"So," Daphne interjected, thinking she was finally getting it, "could you cast it, make it solid and then unsolid whenever you want?"
"If spells were coming at you, yeah," Harry said, nodding, "The best Shield-Aurors can keep their protego in a neutral state until the last possible moment before the enemy spell strikes it. Then, they make it solid, let it block the spell, and then bring it back to neutral again so their allies can cast the other way.
"The weird bit," Harry added, leaning forward slightly, "is that you can't lie to your wand. If you don't perceive any actual threat, there's no impetus for legitimate intent to protect from anything, so it won't change to solid. You can try, but the shield won't change."
"Wow, I think I get it. Thanks," Daphne said gratefully. She gave him a small smile, then pursed her lips. She wasn't sure about him - there was no way he could be this nice.
"No problem," Harry replied, standing to leave. "I'll go grab that other book."
A few minutes later, he returned, sliding Magical Reserves and Variable Spell Power by Lucian Variablus across the desk. By then. Daphne and Tracey were packing their things away.
"Here you go," Harry said, smiling.
"Thanks, Potter." Daphne said, tucking the book into her bag. "You aren't anything like Malfoy says you are."
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"Full of himself, loves his fame."
"Ha! My fame is the worst," Harry said with a grimace, "I'd give anything to be invisible sometimes."
Daphne smiled faintly. "I know what you mean." But her expression quickly shifted, her smile dropping. This was way too friendly. She was furious with herself - how could this knowledgeable, kind guy be having this kind of power over her emotions? No, it wasn't possible. Harry Potter had to be like everyone else, just looking for a contract and a way into her knickers.
"You aren't as mean as I've heard you are either." Harry joked.
"I can be," Daphne said sharply, her eyes narrowing into a warning glare. "If you're not being nice just to get in my pants," she said with a warning glare.
"I'm not trying to get into your pants," Harry said evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching. Not that it didn't sound like a great idea, but he would probably have no idea what to do if that ever happened.
"You aren't wearing pants." Tracey pointed out with a grin, breaking the tension.
"You're right, I'm not." Daphne said with a laugh, suddenly playful. She winked saucily, then went bright red before jumping up with a grin, "Cause…I'm wearing a skirt, see."
Harry gulped at the innuendo and quickly looked anywhere but her.
Tracey, on the other hand, just stared at Daphne, dumbfounded. Daphne had never said anything like that to a boy. Ever.
Equally stunned, Harry's thoughts were spinning. Had she just flirted with him? Daphne Greengrass? He'd been mesmerised as she'd batted her long, mascaraed eyelashes at him for a second, and only her little joke had broken the ice. Dare he push this further, or would she hex his bits off?
'Aw, hell,' Harry thought. 'I'm a Gryffindor.'
"You know, he said cautiously, "if you want me to show you guys the spell, we can find a classroom somewhere."
"Sorry Potter," Tracey interjected quickly, shaking her head. "If Malfoy saw us… Look, I don't care what he thinks, but he could make life very difficult for us. You might be an heir like he is, and from a higher house, but he has a lot of influence."
Harry sighed in disappointment, the excitement that he might have spent more time with these two pretty girls - especially Daphne, the hottest girl he'd ever met - sank in him like a lead balloon.
"Besides, it's a full moon. I've got a late-night Herbology project with Sprout." Daphne said.
"Okay, never mind then," Harry grumbled, stepping back as if to leave.
"But you can call me Daphne, if you like," she called at him.
Harry froze. That was a big deal with Pure-bloods - even he knew that. Permission to use first names was a sign of friendship. He guessed he could settle for that.
"It's Harry to you too, then. Both of you" he added.
"Tracey," the taller girl said with a grin. "Thanks again Harry. We'll see you later."
"I hope so," Harry replied honestly, "It's a shame we couldn't hang out more."
"Don't push it, Harry," Daphne said, her eyes narrowing with frost that she was known for. She was furious at herself for having given him permission to use her name - he clearly didn't understand boundaries. "I said I wasn't interested."
"Hey, I'm not pressuring you," Harry said, holding up his hands. 'Wow, this girl is touchy,' he thought.
"It's okay Harry," Tracey interjected, glancing at her friend, "Daph just has a lot of boys chasing her, people get a bit…pushy."
Harry nodded with understanding. "I'm sorry, like I said, no pressure."
"Don't worry about it," Tracey said quickly, "Besides, it's a full moon. We've got a late-night Herbology project with Sprout."
"I didn't know you liked herbology," Harry said, nodding towards Daphne. He was trying to focus on her eyes, but her stance - her arms folding under her chest - wasn't making it easy.
"Why do you care? Is it any of your business what I like? Why are you still pushing?" Daphne snapped.
"I'm not!" Harry snapped back, his tone firmer now. "You just gave me permission to use your name. That indicates friendship, right? As a friend, I thought it would be good to maybe take an interest in your interests as that's what friends do, isn't it?
I haven't indicated to you at any point in this conversation that I'm in you in that way. I just thought, if you liked Herbology, then I thought you might know my friend Neville. It's his favourite subject and he's pretty much an expert. Maybe he could've helped you with your project."
It was Daphne's turn to look at her feeT. He'd been nothing but friendly and pleasant to her. He was right, he hadn't flirted with her, even though she'd noticed him sneak a quick glace at her chest earlier. But honestly, who could blame him? Even she knew that they were very good boobs, Millicent had said so herself, and she'd even stolen a Muggle porn magazine from Terry Higgs' trunk to prove it.
Still, that didn't mean Harry was romantically interested in her. Hell, she'd been the one who had implied she hadn't been wearing any knickers! Why had she done that? Why had she flirted?
So what if he was friendly, powerful, and knowledgeable? So what if he'd engaged Tracey and just as much as he had her? So what if barely any other boys had done that, ever? Why had she snapped at him?
But apologising would mean giving him power over her. And yet… a small annoying voice in her head whispered, 'Yeah, but you'd like him to overpower you, wouldn't you? He's already making butterflies in your stomach.'
Deliberately ignoring it, she shifted the topic, determined to salvage the moment.
"Heir Longbottom. I'm aware of him," Daphne said with a nod before smirking and nudging Tracey. "Tracey is very aware of him."
Tracey's eyes went wide. "Get lost!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying so loudly that the well-known "shhhh" of Madam Pince echoed across the room.
"What?" Daphne teased. "Didn't I hear you tell Millicent you'd like to get him into a broom cupboard?"
Tracey flushed, her fist clenching and unclenching as her embarrassment boiled over. She opened her mouth to reply, but Harry beat her to it.
"Ohh really?" Harry interjected, mirth in his eyes. He cast a quick glance at the smirking Daphne "I could tell him you like him if you want. Introduce you?"
"Don't you dare!" Tracey snapped, glaring at him.
"So you don't like him? I'll tell him you don't like him then," he replied with a grin.
"Uh…er…I didn't say that!"
"Okay," Harry said, pretending to relent. "So I won't.
"Promise?" Tracey said, nervously. Truth be told, she knew Harry about as much as Daphne did, which wasn't much.
"I promise I definitely won't not never keep quiet about how you might or might not want to take a ride on Neville's broomstick. Bye!"
With that, Harry made a hasty escape. Judging by Daphne's raucous laughter and Tracey's frustrated gasp and shout after him, it seemed he'd left on good terms with both of them.
What he didn't hear was Daphne turning to Tracey and asking, "Why do you think he wasn't interested in me?"
He got back to the desk, sitting down with his chosen text to get started on learning the Light Manipulation Magic that seemed so interesting. Unfortunately, less than thirty seconds later, he was presented with a dilemma. How on earth was he meant to concentrate on this text when he could see the blue of her eyes every time he closed his?