Chapter 26:

Harry's head felt heavy, his body sluggish as he blinked against the brightness. Slowly, his vision adjusted, and he realized he was in Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing. The sterile scent of potions and healing salves filled the air.

Before he could even push himself up, a voice spoke.

"Ah, Harry, I see you're awake."

Harry turned his head slightly to see Dumbledore, sitting beside his bed with that ever-present twinkle in his eyes.

"Professor?" Harry croaked, his throat dry.

Dumbledore smiled. "I must say, you've given us quite the scare. But then again, I find that tends to happen when young heroes take it upon themselves to save the world."

Harry shifted, trying to sit up properly. Pain flared across his body, dull but persistent. "What… happened?"

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, yes. A rather eventful evening, I must say. You succeeded, Harry. The Stone has been destroyed. Nicholas and I agreed it was for the best—temptation is a dangerous thing, even for the well-intentioned."

Harry's thoughts were still sluggish, but the memory of the battle rushed back to him. The Stone. Quirrell. Voldemort.

"And Quirrell?"

Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly. "Gone, I'm afraid. Voldemort abandoned him when he realized he was losing. Without his master, Quirrell did not survive."

Harry swallowed, his throat dry. He should have felt relieved. Quirrell had tried to kill him, after all. But the finality of it—the idea of someone dying, even someone like Quirrell—felt strangely hollow.

"What about Voldemort?" Harry asked, his voice quieter now.

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. "He fled. Weak, but not gone. He will return, Harry. It is only a matter of time."

Harry clenched his fists.

"But why does he want to kill me?" Harry asked suddenly. "Why me? Why was he after me in the first place?"

For the first time, Dumbledore hesitated.

"Ah. That… is a conversation for another time."

Harry frowned. "But I—"

"Harry." Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm. "I promise you, when you are older and ready to hear it, I will tell you everything. But for now, trust that you have done well. You have protected something far greater than just the Stone."

Harry exhaled, frustrated but knowing he wouldn't get more out of Dumbledore today.

The Headmaster stood, smoothing out his robes. "Your friends will be pleased to see you awake. Miss Greengrass especially."

Harry blinked. "Daphne?"

Dumbledore gave him a knowing look. "She refused to leave your side until this morning. Even Madam Pomfrey had trouble convincing her to rest. I do believe she only left because she was finally convinced that she need to eat, and that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would stay with you. I asked that They wait outside for a moment."

Harry felt a strange warmth spread through his chest.

"I will leave you to rest, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I will be calling both Miss Greengrass and yourself to my office before departing for the train ride home, there are a few more things I would like to discuss. But before I go, remember this—you are not alone. You never have been. And now, I believe, you are beginning to see that for yourself."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Harry had but a moment to process what Dumbledore had said before the doors burst open with a loud BANG.

"Mate!"

Ron's voice was the first thing he registered before a blur of red hair moved toward him. Hermione followed close behind, her face filled with relief.

"You're awake!" Hermione practically tackled him in a hug before pulling back, looking like she might cry.

"We thought you were going to be out for ages!" Ron said, plopping into the chair beside the bed.

Harry rubbed his head. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," Hermione answered immediately.

"You really know how to make an entrance," Ron said. "Or in this case, a dramatic near-death exit."

Harry smirked but quickly turned serious. "What happened after I passed out?"

Hermione perched on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Daphne made it back to us, she helped me get Ron up and moving. Dumbledore arrived maybe a few minutes after that. He stopped everything—it was over so fast we barely understood what was happening."

"Right in the nick of time," Ron added. "Not that I mind a good adventure, but that was a bit much, even for me."

Hermione glared at him. "Honestly, Ron, this isn't the time for jokes."

Harry managed a small chuckle but then frowned slightly. "Where's Daphne?"

Ron gave him a look. "Oh, she was here. Refused to leave your side, actually. Madam Pomfrey had to practically threaten her with a Sticking Charm to a bed to make her go get some food."

"She sat here the whole time?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Ron said with a shrug. "Wouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise. Said something about 'not leaving idiots unsupervised' or whatever."

Hermione sighed. "She was worried about you, Harry. We all were."

Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest again. The thought of Daphne sitting beside him, waiting, refusing to leave him alone…

"Oh, and by the way," Ron added with a smirk. "You do realize you're in trouble, right?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

"You owe her a proper kiss, mate. Pretty sure that was part of the deal."

Harry groaned, running a hand down his face. "You lot are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance," Ron and Hermione said in unison.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry laughed.

Not long after Ron and Hermione were ushered out by Madam Pomfrey, the door creaked open again.

Harry expected Madam Pomfrey. Instead, he found Daphne standing in the doorway.

She hesitated at the threshold, arms crossed, her usual confidence dimmed just slightly. Then, with a quiet sigh, she stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Daphne arched an eyebrow, arms still crossed. "You're awake. Finally."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, I have a habit of surviving, apparently."

Daphne rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. Instead, she looked at him carefully, as if studying him. Then, quieter, she admitted, "I thought you weren't coming back. Harry, it felt as if my heart was torn from my chest."

The humor fades from Harry's face. He hadn't really thought about it until now—the fact that she must have been just as scared as he was.

"I told you I would," he says, as if that should have been enough.

Daphne shakes her head, looking away. "You shouldn't make promises like that."

Silence. Harry isn't sure what to say. He's never seen Daphne like this before—she's always in control, always the one with a plan. But now… she's just Daphne. A girl who nearly lost someone she cared about.

Without thinking, Harry reaches for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers before clasping them gently.

"Daphne I promise you I will always come back to you. But I need to talk to you about what I saw down there, what I saw in the Mirror of Erised," he says, voice quiet.

Daphne glances at him, curious but hesitant. "What did you see?"

Harry hesitates, as if saying it out loud will make it more real. Then he meets her gaze.

"I saw… us. Older. Together."

Daphne's breath catches for just a second, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she holds his gaze, her usual guarded expression softening into something unreadable.

"I don't know what it means," Harry admits, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "But if that's supposed to be my heart's deepest desire…"

Daphne doesn't let him finish. Instead, she squeezes his hand back, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile.

"Guess that means you still owe me that proper kiss, then."

Harry laughs, shaking his head. "Guess I do."

Daphne smirks, but her voice is softer than usual. "You better not take too long, Potter."

The atmosphere inside Dumbledore's office was deceptively warm. The golden glow from the candles cast long shadows along the walls, making the space feel smaller, more intimate. Fawkes sat perched in his usual spot, watching them with keen eyes, as if he too were listening closely. The gentle ticking of various enchanted instruments filled the room with a quiet hum.

Harry and Daphne stood before the Headmaster's desk, side by side. Despite the lack of immediate danger, Harry felt a familiar tension crawling up his spine. Dumbledore hadn't summoned them to congratulate them, that much was clear.

He glanced at Daphne. She looked calm—too calm. The kind of calm that meant she was trying to keep her mask on.

Dumbledore folded his hands, his gaze soft but piercing. "Before you both leave for the summer, there are some matters we must discuss. I trust you understand why I've called you here?"

Daphne's response was smooth. "To tell us what a marvelous job we did, of course."

Dumbledore chuckled, but there was not much amusement behind it. "That is certainly part of it." He turned his attention fully to Harry. "You have done a great deal of good this year, Harry. You showed great bravery in facing Professor Quirrell and Voldemort."

Harry tensed at the name, but nodded. "I just did what I had to do. We all did, I couldn't have done anything with out Ron, Hermione and most importantly Daphne."

"Ah, humility. A fine trait." Dumbledore smiled faintly, then let out a slow breath. "But I believe we both know that bravery alone did not see you through the challenges you faced. The bond between you two—your connection—played a part. And it is that which I must ask you about."

The air in the room changed.

Daphne, standing beside Harry, barely reacted—but he could feel her focus sharpen through the bond.

Dumbledore continued, his blue eyes watching them carefully. "I have spent considerable time this year researching magical bonds such as yours. And what I have found has given me… concern."

Harry felt his stomach tighten.

Daphne, however, merely tilted her head, her voice calm and even. "Concern?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, leaning forward slightly. "Magic like this is ancient. And ancient magic is rarely without consequence."

Harry exchanged a glance with Daphne, remembering her clear warning back when they first spoke about the ritual. He had believed her then, and he believed her now—this wasn't something they could afford to ignore.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Throughout history, bonds of this nature have been recorded only a handful of times. Most of them ended… poorly."

Daphne didn't even blink. "Poorly how?"

Dumbledore studied her. "They either faded over time, which left one or both participants weakened—sometimes fatally—or they evolved into something unstable. A few…" His expression darkened. "A few were deliberately crafted to serve darker purposes."

Harry felt his heartbeat quicken. "What do you mean by that?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment before answering. "I mean that some were created using force or by Deception. they believed they were enting into a bond but instead entered into servitude. That such bonds could be used as a means of manipulation. Giving total control over their thoughts and actions."

The word sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

Daphne's posture remained poised, but he could tell her fingers were tightening into her palm. "So what you're saying," she said slowly, "is that we might be cursed?"

Dumbledore exhaled, his expression unreadable. "I am saying that I do not yet know. But I have found one case—only one—where such a bond was not harmful."

Harry swallowed. "And what was different about it?"

Dumbledore hesitated for only a second before answering.

"The two people bound by the connection… were soulmates. They were soulmates before they entered into the bond."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry felt his pulse hammer in his ears. He had not expected that.

Daphne, for once, didn't have a quick remark. She merely sat very, very still.

Dumbledore studied them both for their reactions. "Soulmates, in the truest sense, are exceedingly rare. Some believe they are merely a myth. But there is a kind of magic that binds two people who are meant to be together. If such a bond exists… it changes everything."

Harry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "So… what? That's our only good option?" He tried for humor, but his voice sounded off. "Either we're cursed, or we're soulmates?"

Daphne's lips pressed together into a faint smirk, but she said nothing.

Dumbledore did not return the smile. "I tell you this not to frighten you, but because I believe you deserve to know what you are tied to. This bond is powerful, and it may yet be something greater than either of you realize."

Then his expression shifted.

"There is… something else."

Harry tensed.

Dumbledore's eyes darkened, as if considering his next words carefully. "While researching soul links, I found references to a particularly dangerous connection—one that existed centuries ago between two powerful magic users. One of whom was… Morgana."

Harry blinked. "Morgana?"

Daphne said nothing, but Harry felt the sharpest flicker of tension through their bond.

"Morgana sought a connection that would transcend time itself," Dumbledore said gravely. "She used her magic to bind warriors to her. They could feel her thoughts, hear her commands, and were compelled to obey."

He let that sink in before continuing.

"And I believe such magic was recorded in a book that once resided in the Hogwarts library. A book that… is now missing."

Daphne's fingers twitched, but her face remained impassive.

Harry, however, felt something cold slither down his spine.

Dumbledore finally leaned back. "I will not demand answers from you, not today. But I ask that you remain vigilant. If anything changes—if you notice anything different about your bond—come to me at once. I would appreciate knowing exactly which ritual you both participated in, so that I may help you both."

Dumbledore's gaze lingered on them both. "Secrets have a way of unraveling."

Daphne, to her credit, didn't flinch. Neither of them spoke.

Dumbledore exhaled. "That is all."

As they stepped out of Dumbledore's office, an odd silence stretched between them.

Harry let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well… that was cheery."

Daphne, walking beside him, didn't respond immediately. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes focused ahead.

Harry nudged her shoulder. "Daph?"

She inhaled sharply before shaking her head. "I don't like this, Harry," she admitted, voice unusually quiet. "I don't like how much he already knows. And I don't like that he's probably right about some of it."

Harry, despite his own unease, gave her a small grin. "Come on. At least he doesn't think we're doomed. Just cursed."

Daphne let out a dry laugh. But it didn't quite reach her eyes.

As they walked, Harry hesitated before finally bringing up the one thing he couldn't ignore.

"So… about that soulmate thing…"

Daphne froze.

For a second, she didn't say anything. Then finally, she smirked faintly and said playfully. "Obviously. You'd be the worst soulmate. You got me into all kinds of trouble this year, Mr. Potter."

Harry huffed a laugh. "Right. Good." But something still felt… odd.

As they walked, Daphne kept her gaze forward, but inside, her thoughts were racing.

"You are my soulmate, Harry Potter. It's so obvious, how do you not see it like I do? Do you see an aura around me Harry? I don't think you do? Do I even deserve you?"

And in that moment, Harry felt something.

Something deep.

Something that made his chest ache with warmth—and a sadness he couldn't quite place.

He glanced at Daphne, but she just kept walking.

"Daph?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."