CHAPTER 7

The sharp evening wind lashed against Harry's face as he walked slowly along the shores of the Black Lake. The sky above was tinged with a soft purple, streaked with gold where the last rays of the sun escaped over the horizon. The lake, vast and deep, stretched out before him like a distorted mirror, reflecting the towers of Hogwarts in the distance. The dark water gently swayed, pushed by small gusts of wind.

Classes had ended some time ago, and there was still a while before dinner. Most of the students had already gone up to the castle, seeking refuge from the increasingly harsh cold. But Harry needed air, space to think.

The weight of Ron's words still echoed in his mind. The argument that morning had left a bitter taste in his mouth, as if something inside him had broken. It was hard to put into words what he was feeling. Frustration? Confusion? Maybe both.

Part of him wanted to understand his friend. Another part felt exhausted from always having to justify every one of his decisions. Since he had started getting closer to some Slytherins, he knew there would be resistance. But why should he treat them as enemies without even getting to know them?

He passed the great oak that rose in an elevated part of the grounds, its twisted roots emerging from the ground as if they wanted to capture anyone who passed by. As he reached the shadow of the trunk, he took off his shoes.

The cold grass against his bare feet sent a shiver up his spine, but he liked that sensation. It was a reminder that he was there, that he was still breathing.

On warmer days, he liked to dip his feet into the lake's icy water. Sometimes, the giant squid would appear at the surface, swaying its tentacles as if greeting the few who dared to approach. Usually, he would find students feeding the creature with toast and strawberry jam. A strange taste for an underwater monster, but who was he to judge?

Harry sighed and leaned back against the rough trunk of the tree, feeling the bumpy texture of the bark against his back. The ground still held traces of winter, a thin layer of ice crystallizing the grass around him. An unusual cold for that time of year. According to Hagrid, one of the side effects of the presence of Dementors.

Thinking of them made a cold shiver run down his spine. The chill of the night was nothing compared to the cold that Dementors brought. It was a cold that came from within, consuming everything, leaving only emptiness.

When he remembered the sensation, all the bad memories came rushing back like an inevitable avalanche. His childhood with the Dursleys. The suffocating night in the Hogwarts basement, facing Quirrell and Voldemort. The cold, dead gaze of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

He ran his hand over his forearm, where there was still a thin scar.

He picked up a small stone and threw it into the lake. The small impact created a perfect circle on the surface before it dissolved into increasingly smaller waves. Harry bit his lower lip. His mind still echoed Ron's words from the morning, the frustration in his friend's eyes.

Maybe Ron was right on some points. Maybe not. The truth was Harry wasn't sure. He had spent the morning trying to get closer to some Slytherins—and, to his surprise, they were very different from Malfoy. This made him question everything he believed about the green-and-silver house. The impossible was denying the evidence that there were good and bad people in every house.

He had really thought that after Hagrid's class, Ron would go back to normal. But when he tried to strike up a conversation, he only received a grumble in reply.

What should he do?

"I didn't expect to find you here, Potter."

Harry jumped at the unexpected voice, his heart leaping before he turned his face toward the sound.

Daphne Greengrass was there, a small smile on her face.

The green details of Slytherin still stood out in her uniform, but her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, showing more of her face.

He blinked a few times before replying.

"It helps me think," he said with a shrug. He motioned to the side, offering space for her to sit. "Besides, this is one of the few calm places."

"I can see why."

The clearing was almost hidden by the tree, making it the perfect refuge.

"Have you been following me?" Harry lightly bumped his shoulder against hers, a smirk forming on his face. "We agreed to be friends, but stalking is a bit much, don't you think?"

"In your dreams, Potter."

"Harry," he corrected.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I spent two whole years calling you 'Potter.' Besides, everyone in my house calls you that. It's not so easy to change a habit overnight."

"People in Slytherin talk about me?"

"When you do something really stupid or when we hear Malfoy complaining about you."

"I don't do stupid things like that!"

"Are you sure?" She crossed her arms. "Quirrell? The monster in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, Potter. Keeping a secret at Hogwarts is like hiding a dragon in the middle of the courtyard and expecting no one to notice."

"But how do you...?"

"Know about these stories? Quirrell disappears, and you end up in the Hospital Wing for days. The youngest Weasley vanishes, attacks happen all over the school, and you're in the infirmary again. Two plus two."

Harry had never stopped to think about that. To him, the events seemed disconnected.

"I guess I spend too much time in the infirmary."

"Do you think?"

"Maybe that's why I got interested in Healing Magic?"

Daphne furrowed her brow. "Healing Magic?"

"Yeah." He leaned his head against the trunk. "I spent the summer at the Leaky Cauldron and found a book on it. I ended up liking the subject."

"Interesting." Daphne tilted her head. "Some wizards call Healing Magic 'Green Magic.' But don't ask me why; it's an old tradition of our ancestors."

"I've never heard that term."

"Neither will you. That name is only used by traditional families. Some believe 'Healing Magic' is a Muggle term."

"Muggle term?"

"Yeah. During the Middle Ages, some Muggles called Green Magic Healing Magic. Over time, the term fell out of use, but the old families kept using it."

"And my family?"

"The Potters were never included among the traditional families. They've always fought for Muggle rights and didn't care about that blood purity thing."

An involuntary smile appeared on Harry's face.

"But what about you? What do you think about it?"

Daphne hesitated. "What I think doesn't matter much."

"And what do they expect from you?"

"Marry someone from a traditional family. Have children. Keep my family's name alive."

"But is that what you want?"

She looked away. "What I want and what I have to do are two different things, Potter."

Harry smiled slightly. "It's always good to have a plan B."

She laughed. "And since when do you give good advice?"

"Let's just say I had to grow up fast."

For a moment, Daphne fell silent, but when Harry laughed, she laughed too. The sound of their laughter spread along the lake's shore, echoing into the late afternoon. Neither of them expected to be there, laughing with each other.

But Hogwarts had always been full of surprises—and that night, the greatest one was realizing that sometimes the best conversations happen with the ones you least expect.

A/N:

This is a slightly shorter chapter than I'm used to posting for this story, and that's intentional. I felt that the story was becoming a bit stagnant, and it would take a while to get to the action. So, I decided to reduce the word count per chapter but increase the number of chapters, making them more dynamic.

This approach allows me to post more frequently and gives me room to work on other stories, as I was previously spending several days on just one chapter.

Follows, favorites and reviews are greatly appreciated.

"In case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening and good night."