Chapter 13

Harry Potter had been in trouble countless times throughout his life. From a tender age, he had been living with the Dursleys, who treated him like a mere house elf rather than family. Their blatant disregard for his well-being and his magical abilities often led to unexplainable and bizarre occurrences.

Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry had endured a childhood filled with neglect and ostracism. His aunt, Petunia, held a deep-seated resentment towards him as she believed he was a constant reminder of his parents' magical world, which she had been excluded from. Uncle Vernon, a boisterous and arrogant man, despised anything that deviated from his mundane and orderly existence, making Harry's magical abilities a constant source of irritation and embarrassment for him.

As a result of his magical nature, unusual and inexplicable phenomena would manifest around Harry, leaving him bewildered and often frightened. Objects would move on their own, electrical appliances would malfunction, and strange noises would echo through the house at odd hours. These occurrences not only terrified the Dursleys but also made Harry feel like he was at fault for the chaos that ensued.

Despite his confusion and fear, Harry could not understand how he was responsible for these strange occurrences. He had no prior knowledge of magic or its workings, and he had never consciously tried to cause any of the unusual events that unfolded around him. The Dursleys, however, saw Harry's magical abilities as a deliberate attempt to rebel and disrupt their lives, further fueling their resentment and mistreatment of him.

In this instance, Harry was fully aware of his actions. Despite Snape's verbal tirade and the withholding of his wand, Harry felt no remorse. He had triumphed over his tormentors, and their lack of need for medical attention was, in his opinion, a merciful outcome.

The teen could only imagine Tom's fury when he found out that he had three older enemies beaten, and none of them would need serious medical attention. Particularly when his opponents bit off more than they could chew by attacking him, and not capitalizing on their superior numbers and experience. Harry had humiliated them, but not harmed them.

At worst Bole might have a bruised rib, and Montague might have a headache, but Flint, his worst abuser, had gotten away with a broken hand that would be healed by morning. This was something that irked Harry, but he figured it would not be wise to mention this to the Headmaster.

Sitting at the bottom of the gargoyle, Harry waited for his summons. Snape had promised expulsion and a painful life in Azkaban if he moved from his current spot, so patiently the teen waited to be called for. Strangely he was not all that concerned. The worst they could do was expel him, snap his wand, and send him to Tom.

Tom would take care of Harry, and with a new wand they would continue their training. There were worse fates. In fact perhaps it was even preferable. He was mostly unchallenged in his classes, and the annoyance of his classmates was a situation he would rather avoid.

Despite the lingering notion of anticipation swirling within him, Harry couldn't shake the bittersweet pang of sadness that tugged at his heartstrings as he contemplated getting expelled from Hogwarts. The looming end of his career at the magical school filled him with a mix of longing and apprehension.

Hogwarts had become more than just a place of learning for Harry. It was the first place where he had truly felt a sense of belonging. The towering castle with its winding staircases, hidden passages, and enchanted classrooms had become a home to him, and the thought of leaving it behind filled him with a sense of emptiness.

Most of all, Harry would miss the constant sense of wonder and discovery that Hogwarts provided. Every day brought new challenges and opportunities, most of which didn't come from the classroom, but regardless Harry couldn't imagine a more stimulating and enchanting environment in which to grow and learn.

His conflicting emotions on what would occur next distracted him to the fact that Snape had gone blowing past him in a billow of his cloak. The man did not even turn to address him, but Harry could feel the man's anger as he stormed down the hall. Taking that as his summoning, and hoping Dumbledore might have his wand, Harry began making his way up the stairs that would lead to the headmaster's office.

In the aftermath of his failed attempt to expel Harry, Snape's fury was palpable. While this provided a glimmer of satisfaction, Harry could not shake the trepidation that gnawed at him. An impending one-on-one confrontation with the Headmaster loomed, an encounter that had been inevitable but nonetheless caused his stomach to knot with apprehension.

Before Harry could even raise his hand to knock, the door to Dumbledore's office swung open. Inside, Dumbledore sat at his desk, his hands clasped together, his ever-patient demeanor on display. The aged wizard greeted his student, "Mr. Potter, it appears you've had quite an eventful evening."

Approaching the old man's desk, Swallowing Harry felt a sense of relief as he noticed his wand prominently displayed in the center. Somewhat relaxed, Harry spoke in a soft voice,"It was not my intention to do so sir."

With a nod, the man immediately agreed, "I tried to communicate that idea to your Head of House. It seemed highly unlikely that a third-year student would launch an attack on three significantly older students. May I assume this was not the case?"

In agreement, Harry said, "You are correct, sir. I was on my way back from the library after Madam Pince informed me that the curfew was approaching. She can verify that I was present there for most of the night and not lurking around in the corridors."

Dumbledore held up a hand peacefully, "Innocent until proven guilty. Of course the portrait's story does line up with this fact. However, I would like to hear your version of events."

Quickly Harry delved into his story and defended himself. By the time he came to the end of the story he was staring at the ground pretending to be remorseful, "I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't stop sir. I am sorry, but I had been on the other end of Flint's wand too many times. I was just angry, and wanted to send a message that they couldn't hurt me anymore. Not without getting hurt themselves."

Dumbledore said nothing for a minute, and Harry felt his penetrating gaze on him as he kept his eyes downcast. Finally, the older man sighed, "It has been many years since a 3rd year has bested this many older students."

"I was lucky with Montague." Harry admitted, "I caught him off guard. Bole and Flint were beaten mostly by tricks."

"Yet you still defended the onslaught of two older students. Your defensive magic must be superb." Dumbledore complimented, but for some reason, the underlying tone was accusing.

"It always has been." Harry confirmed.

"All your teachers have noted a marked improvement in your spell work." Dumbledore probed, "I also can't help, but notice how much healthier you look upon your return to Hogwarts. I must say I am relieved your relatives finally decided to treat you with some decency."

It took all of Harry's power not to snort at the man's audacity, but instead, he just shrugged, "They left me to my own devices, sir. Acting like I don't exist is better than the contrary. I ate my meals, and studied my books all Summer. It paid off by the time we came back to school."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed into a deep crease as he regarded the young wizard standing before him. "Forgive me, it seems like you did a lot more than study books this summer," he said, his voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of concern.

The young wizard looked up at Dumbledore with a mixture of apprehension and defiance in his emerald-green eyes. He had spent the past few months training under one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Of course, he had grown more than a good Summer study session could explain. His mind worked quickly however to concoct a lie.

"I... I studied day and night, Professor," Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had to learn how to defend myself. I had to be ready for anything. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I don't want to be the one getting hurt either."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and understanding. "I understand, Harry," he said. "The world is a dangerous place, and you have been thrust into the heart of its darkness. But I must caution you against straying too far from the path of righteousness. Power can corrupt, and knowledge can be a double-edged sword."

Harry took a deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to process Dumbledore's words. He knew that the old wizard was right, but he also couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. With everything that has happened, the Headmaster should not be surprised that Harry had taken steps to defend himself.

"I know, Professor," Harry said, his voice steadier now that his lie was being bought. "I won't let the darkness consume me. I promise."

With a faint smile, Dumbledore fixed his gaze upon the young wizard standing before him. "Harry, I believe you," he uttered. "However, I cannot deny my astonishment that a student who is not yet in his OWL year managed to defend himself against three NEWT students." A hint of accusation tinged Dumbledore's tone.

"I made it my mission to be exceptional at this branch of magic, due to the number of attacks on my person. I am also well aware that Sirius Black could be after me." Harry said, hoping to bait the man away from his current line of thinking.

At Harry's revelation, Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly, indicating surprise. Harry sensed it. Dumbledore leaned back, and Harry took the opportunity for a longer look. The man's face betrayed no emotion, but Harry suspected he would soon start probing for more information.

"What do you know about Sirius Black?" Dumbledore inquired cautiously.

"That he escaped Azkaban. I know that he killed 12 muggles, and a wizard by the name of Peter Pettigrew. I also know that he sold my parents out to Voldemort. Draco Malfoy was kind enough to tell me on our first day back." Harry said, trying to sound bitter.

Of course," Dumbledore acknowledged with comprehension. "I suppose it should come as no surprise that Lucius would entrust such sensitive information to his son, with the expectation that he would pass it along to his classmate."

Harry tried his best to maintain a neutral expression. It was clear to both of them that Draco had not revealed this information out of any genuine kindness. Harry remained silent, allowing Dumbledore to continue. "Professor Lupin has expressed concerns that you may be delving into the study of dark curses in preparation for a potential confrontation with Mr. Black. Is there any truth to this?"

Feeling a tinge of anger Harry said, "I admit I have been studying a lot of less than friendly curses in case Black comes after me. No one is going to take me without a fight."

With a stubborn yet confident tone, Harry uttered those final words. He fervently wished his statement would be convincing enough to deter the Headmaster from delving deeper into the origins of his knowledge about the Dark Arts. The teen was acutely aware that the last thing he needed was undue scrutiny from the Headmaster, which could potentially unravel the carefully constructed facade he had maintained all this time.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited the Headmaster's response. He knew that his words alone might not be enough to sway the wise and experienced wizard, who had a keen eye for detecting deception. However, Harry was desperate to avoid revealing his secret source of knowledge, which he had stumbled upon quite by chance.

As the seconds ticked by, Harry's mind raced, trying to anticipate the Headmaster's next move. He knew that he had to tread carefully, choosing his words and actions wisely to maintain the illusion of innocence. The teen's fate hung in the balance, and he could only hope that his carefully crafted story would hold up under the Headmaster's scrutiny.

Eventually, Dumbledore seemed to decide on a frown, "Hogwarts is a safe place Mr. Potter. I assure you Mr. Black will not get you before he crosses every teacher in this school."

With a stifled snort, the young Slytherin's expression inadvertently betrayed his amusement. Dumbledore's face mirrored the sourness of a particularly tart lemon drop, "Your lack of confidence in our staff's ability to defend you is apparent."

"Sir," Harry addressed, his voice laced with skepticism, "If Professor Snape had his way, I would have faced expulsion for simply defending myself. In my first year at Hogwarts, Professor Quirrel harbored sinister intentions, attempting to take my life. The following year, Professor Lockhart revealed himself to be a fraudulent wizard. Forgive me if I find it difficult to share your unwavering confidence."

This last part was said with a bite. Dumbledore seemed saddened by the outburst, but nodded, "I know things have been rocky in your first few years at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. However, I do believe this remains to be the safest place for you. We have taken proper precautions to keep you safe."

"Ah, you refer to the dementors." Harry replied caustically, "I hold them in high regard, sir. I had always wanted to hear the sound of my mother's voice. The dementors were kind enough to give me her final screams for my life as a memory to hold onto. "

With a pallid face, Dumbledore listened to Harry's words as he stood up. "Sir, if there is nothing else, I would like to return to my Common Room. It has been a long weekend, and I have a significant amount of studying that requires my attention."

When Dumbledore said nothing Harry offered his professor a sharp nod before rising to his feet, swiping his wand off the man's desk, and moving towards the exit. Before he could make it Dumbledore said, "I regret to inform you that, Professor Snape, insists as your punishment for excessive force against your classmates, you are banned from playing Quidditch this year. As your Head of House, this is his right."

With rage coursing through his veins, Harry clenched his fist and whipped his head towards the Headmaster. "I never wanted to play for Slytherin anyway. I've proven my point," he said defiantly.

"And what point was that, my boy?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.

"That I am better than the others." Harry spat, "The whole school saw that. I don't need to play another game to know I am the best Seeker in the school."

Harry, feeling a surge of unexpected rage and certainty, spoke his mind and felt a sense of pride wash over him. However, his pride was not shared by Dumbledore, who stared at him with disbelief and shock. In response, the last Potter, without uttering a word, abruptly stormed out of the room.

.o.

It was long after curfew when Harry made it back to the Common Room. Not a soul was still in the Common Room, and he stormed his way toward the 3rd year boys' dormitory. Upon arrival, everyone seemed asleep, except Blaise who sat in the corner with a book clutched to his chest. When the two made eye contact Zabini seemed to look visibly relieved.

It was long after curfew when Harry made it back to the dungeons. The room was deserted, the fire in the hearth having reduced to a handful of glowing embers, and the large window that led to the Black Lake was dark as night. He could hear the gentle snoring of a few students in the dormitories and knew he had to be quiet.

As Harry drew near to the dormitory, he caught sight of a solitary figure. Zabini, a fellow Slytherin, sat huddled in the corner adjacent to the window, gripping a book tightly in his hand. An air of nervousness emanated from him, prompting Harry to ponder over the rumors that might have already spread like wildfire throughout the house.

As Harry stepped into the dormitory, Blaise's eyes widened in astonishment as he looked up from his book. The surprise on his face quickly transformed into a look of relief.

"Potter," Blaise said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're alive."

With a solemn nod, Harry's throat constricted with emotion over everything that had occurred. He approached Blaise and found a seat beside him on the window seat.

"It was a close call, but I am alright. What have you heard?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Nothing, yet." Blaise said with a shrug, "Montague, Flint, and Bole haven't returned to the Common Room yet. Everyone knew they were going to try something tonight, when none of you returned I think the general consensus was that they went too far and were getting expelled."

With a nod of satisfaction, Harry replied, "I'll share the truth with you at a later time. Right now, I am in dire need of some rest."

Zabini looked like he wanted to press his fellow Slytherin, but Harry took away that option by returning to his bed. He desperately wanted to write to Tom, but he knew he needed to wait for his roommate to go to bed himself. Luckily he didn't have to wait long, and Zabini disappeared behind the curtains of his own bed shortly after his arrival.

Harry moved slowly and quietly as he reached for the journal that would communicate with his mentor, and penned quickly:

'Master'

It was almost as if Tom had sensed his apprentice's distress, and wrote back faster than he had ever had before.

'Apprentice.'

'I was attacked tonight. Marcus Flint and the other Slytherins. They attempted to gang up on me.'

A long pause, before the ink appeared on his end.

'Did they survive?'

In the wide world of responses Tom could've had, this one made Harry relax the most. His mentor did not doubt for one second that he had emerged victorious. Instead, he asked if the teen had been merciful enough to spare his attackers. The faith the Dark Lord had in Harry made him feel a sense of pride at what occurred.

First, he had conquered on the dueling pitch, and then again behind the scenes in the hallways, where he once knew no bounds of safety. With less than half a year's training Tom had

changed Harry's life.

'Yes. All three are in the hospital wing.

The Headmaster questioned me,

but I guilted him into letting it go.

Snape wanted me expelled.

He didn't get that, but I am banned from playing Quidditch.'

Harry didn't have the guts to tell his mentor that all three of his attackers would be released by morning. He hoped to score a few sympathy points by telling the man he had been banned from the House Team. Instead, Tom surprised him.

'Good. You did much more for your reputation tonight,

Then you would have by playing a simple game.

You defeated students 3 years your senior.

This is an irregularity and speaks of your talent.

You have done well.

Under the praise of his mentor, Harry experienced a surge of pride. Tom rarely bestowed compliments without adding a biting backhanded remark. "Your defense is fantastic," he would often say, "if only you didn't have the offensive repertoire of a first-year student."

Or even sometimes he would say, "Your speed is admirable. Your power on the other hand is sloppy."

His compliments towards joining the Quidditch team and now defeating three older students however had not come with any scathing remarks. Harry thought these were big steps of progress that he wanted to capitalize on.

'What should I do next, Master?" Harry asked, searching for some form of guidance.

Tom did not disappoint when he responded with:

'Allow your reputation to grow.

If anyone tests it. Squash them.

In the meantime study hard,

Find yourself a dueling partner,

And prepare yourself.

I shall be testing you on the first Hogsmeade Weekend.

Harry swallowed hard knowing that Tom would mean business when he came into town. The man would want to check his progress on the Mortis Umbra spell, and see what he had learned from the other books that had been assigned to him. Harry felt confident in what he had learned, but still, his training with Tom were painful lessons that brought minor degrees of trepidation. Still, the young teen was looking forward to the challenge, and closed his journal knowing no other messages would be coming in tonight.

.o.

The fact that Bole, Montague, and Flint, were still in the Hospital Wing when the sun rose meant the rumor mill was swirling by the time Harry made it to breakfast. As the young 3rd year sat in his usual place alone, a familiar companion sat across from him with a serious look on his face, when he asked, "What happened last night?"

A small frown crossed Harry's countenance and he shrugged saying, "I had a late night at the library, and then a delay coming back."

Blaise looked incredulously at Harry, and asked, "Was this delay a seventh-year Quidditch Captain, and two sixth years?"

"Maybe." Harry said inconspicuously as he forked at his breakfast gingerly.

"Merlin, Potter." Blaise whispered, leaning across the table to talk quietly, "You have no idea what you have done do you?"

"Avoided the trip to the Hospital Wing we joked about?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Be serious!"

Shrugging, Harry shook his head, "Zabini, I really don't know what to tell you. It was nothing. I did get a Quidditch ban which is a little disappointing, but what can you do?"

.

The dark-skinned teen's mouth fell open at his words, while Harry just piled his eggs between two pieces of toast making a small sandwich nonchalantly. Finally, Blaise hissed, "How did you not get expelled? It doesn't look like we even lost a house point?"

"I think they were so worried about expelling me, that when it didn't happen, they forgot to punish me in other ways." Harry shrugged.

Shaking his head Blaise just muttered something under his breath, and went back to his breakfast. By the time Harry had departed to his morning classes, the whispers had re-ignited from the beginning of the year. No one knew for certainty what had happened last night, but it did seem most had known of the older Slytherin's intentions. The fact that Harry Potter was sitting at breakfast, while the others were unaccounted for, was enough to ignite any flames that might have been low on the fire.

By the end of the day, the whole school seemed to know what had happened. Harry wasn't sure how or why, but it seemed a legend had been born in the dungeons last night. Everyone who knew the full story wasn't talking yet, but Harry knew the truth would get around, or at least a version of it.

.o.

The next month had passed quickly for the Slytherin 3rd year. Halloween weekend would bring the first Hogsmeade visit, and of course the first Quidditch match as well. A small part of Harry hoped that Slytherin was crushed by Gryffindor, but without a promising prospect at Seeker, the emerald-eyed teen suspected that Draco would snatch the snitch once again, raising his popularity higher than ever.

While Draco may gain popularity for winning the upcoming Quidditch match, Harry had gained a certain level of infamy from the rumor mills. Not a student in the castle was daring to cross him. Not when the likes of Colin Creevey and other starry-eyed students were spreading rumors about him standing up to the Pureblood agenda. Others had proclaimed him to be the next rising Dark Lord. For his part, Harry was just glad that the house finally seemed to respect him enough to stay out of the way.

When Montague, Flint, and Bole had returned to their normally scheduled classes, they had seemed cowed. Harry wasn't sure if Snape, the Headmaster, or their humiliation had done it, but the trio had laid low the last month.

In that month Harry had not been idle. Instead, he had been rejuvenated by his victory, and set about training harder than ever before. Pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion in nearly every training session was paying its dividends. He was learning at an exponential rate, and more often than not, Harry found himself asking Tom for even more material.

Occasionally his mentor would quiz him on what he had already asked Harry to read, but with his Occlumency exercises, the young Slytherin's memory was improving rapidly. He was quite looking forward to his weekend in the village. It would be a new area to explore, plus he would be making his way to the Shrieking Shack for a much-awaited lesson with Tom.

The anticipation of his next lesson had lessened the blow of missing the Quidditch Match, even though he almost certainly would've been playing that weekend. Harry figured that Flint would be gone next year, and if he wanted to try out under a new Captain, his luck would likely be a lot better. In the meantime, he would focus on his growth and maybe even catching Sirius Black.

The escaped Azkaban prisoner had been spotted in Dufftown just a few days before leading up to the weekend. This made Harry think the man was making his way to Hogwarts, and he seemed to feel a certain level of anxiety at the thought of crossing the man. Not because he feared Sirius Black, but because he had already promised himself what he would do to the man if they did cross paths. He would be testing the Mortis Umbra curse this weekend, and if it was successful, it would be the perfect Swan Song for Black.

On the Saturday of the Hogsmeade weekend, which coincided with Halloween, the atmosphere at the castle was jubilant. The festivities were in honor of either the Sam-Hain festival or the fall of the Dark Lord, both significant occasions. Harry, however, felt a pang of irritation, a familiar emotion he experienced whenever he witnessed Halloween celebrations.

Amidst the joyous celebration marking the Dark Lord's downfall, a somber realization weighed upon Harry Potter. The day of festivities simultaneously commemorated the tragic loss of his parents. The freedom enjoyed by the wizarding world had come at the price of his family's lives. This unsettling irony left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. Grateful for the opportunity to escape the castle, he departed before the majority of students had even emerged from their common rooms.

As Harry cautiously stepped into the grand Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, a palpable sense of excitement washed over him. He had a nagging suspicion that he might make it all the way to the carriages without encountering a single student, which would make his escape to the Shrieking Shack all the easier. The usually bustling hall, adorned with its imposing marble staircase and intricately carved statues, stood eerily silent. The only sound that disturbed the quiet was the gentle echo of his own footsteps bouncing off the stone walls.

Nevertheless, just as Harry began to hope he would escape undisturbed, a familiar voice shattered the silence, calling out his name. He turned his gaze towards the nearby staircase that led to the library and spotted Daphne Greengrass, one of his fellow Slytherin students. With her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders like a cascade of golden silk and her sea-blue eyes glinting with intelligence, she cut an enchanting figure even in the dim light of the hall.

Daphne did not appear particularly delighted to see him, her eyes holding their usual cool detachment. However, since she had caught his attention, Harry decided to take a chance and waited for her to join him.

As Daphne approached, a faint hint of perfume wafted through the air, leaving a delicate trail in her wake. Harry couldn't help but admire her poise and grace as she descended the stairs with the effortless elegance of a dancer. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Daphne paused for a moment, her sea-blue eyes meeting Harry's. In her hands was a fair bit of parchment, that she began to fold as she approached him, "Trying to get to Hogsmeade before everyone else? You didn't seem like the type to be anxious about something so frivolous."

The haughty tone of the girl made Harry want to roll his eyes, but he kept his gaze on her hands, which seemed to tremble slightly. It was a cool day outside, but the brazers around Hogwarts burned with fire, keeping most of the hallways warm. This shaking was not from the cold, and despite her evenless expression, Harry could tell Greengrass was nervous.

"I thought it would be best to have a look around before the crowds arrived. You know I don't like people." Harry said evenly.

In the midst of an awkward silence that lingered between them, Harry decided to end it. With a determined voice, he declared, "If there's nothing further, I believe it's time for me to venture into the village."

Turning away from the girl, Harry started moving towards the exit that would lead him to the grounds, but a hand clamped onto his arm, and his head whipped towards Daphne who held his eyes without a hint of fear, "Did you really beat Flint and his cronies? I hear they want your head on a platter, and something about the whispers around the house make me think they aren't just posturing."

"I put them in their place." Harry said frostily, "They attempted to attack me when I was leaving the library, and I took all of three of them down. The only reason I wasn't in trouble was because it was self-defense."

Daphne released his arm like it burned her. Her eyes were wider now, surprise clear on her countenance, "How did you beat three older students? NEWT students?"

"I practice my defensive magic a lot." Harry spat at her disbelief, "I also have been studying curses, and offensive magic, practicing them even, in the empty classrooms at all hours of the day and night. I had to. To be able to protect myself."

Swallowing hard Daphne glanced at the parchment still in her free hand, before biting her lip, then offering it to him, "I owe you, for saving me from the Hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures. This will help keep you safe. We are even."

Questioningly Harry glanced from her eyes to the parchment a couple of times, before taking it carefully. The parchment seemed to glow faintly in his hands, while intricate lines and swirling ink formed a detailed layout of Hogwarts. Harry's jaw dropped as his brain slowly processed what was in his hands. The more his mind registered the more amazed he became. Tiny dots moved across the map, each labeled with a name, revealing the whereabouts of students and staff alike. Every secret passageway, corridor, and hallway, seemed to be alive, the ink shifting and changing as if responding to some hidden rhythm. In the corner the word "Meesrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder's Map."

"This can't be real." Harry whispered.

"I spent a week confirming that it was. I hexed Fred Weasley the second week of term for pranking my sister, and he dropped this. When he attempted to come back for it, Davis and I jinxed him bald. He didn't try to reclaim it after that." Daphne said with a smug grin.

"This is an amazing magical artifact." Harry said, "The amount of work it must've taken to design this…I think I will owe you one for this."

"I don't have half the house pining for my blood." Daphne said with a shrug, "I have learned, and noted all the secret passageways. The only thing I get out of this now is being nosy. This way, we are even. As you said, perhaps you owe me a little something now."

Cautiously Harry folded the map, asking, "What is it I can do for you Ms. Greengrass?"

His eyes were certainly narrowed, but Daphne seemed to enjoy turning the tables on him, "I would like to see this dueling prowess for myself. I might find myself in need of some pointers from someone capable of knocking down 3 NEWT students."

Knowing this is what Tom wanted, Harry didn't reject the idea out of hand, which seemed to be what Daphne was suspecting. The silence continued before Harry finally sighed, "Okay."

His answer clearly surprised the Slytherin girl. She appraised him from head to toe, and if Harry didn't know any better he would have blushed under her scrutiny. He wasn't sure too many witches had looked at him the way Daphne was looking at him now. It wasn't a particularly leering look, but Harry was certain he was being surveyed, "There is something about you this year Potter…"

The girl trailed off, before shaking her head, "I look forward to our duel. Tomorrow is Halloween, and I care little for the feast. I think we could have a few hours of privacy to find an old classroom in the dungeons for us to have our little match. What do you say?"

Frowning at the girl Harry asked, "Won't your friends worry? If we are both missing from the feast, don't you think the house will talk?"

"Let them talk." Daphne shrugged, "There will be no proof, and we can deny it if necessary. As for my friends…well let's just keep it our little secret, eh Potter?"

She had an angle. She had to. Daphne Greengrass was a penultimate Slytherin. He had watched her act as Slytherin's perfect little Pureblood Princess for the last three years. Ever since the defense lesson however there had been something different about her. Harry couldn't figure out what it was, but he could hardly refuse a simple duel when she was handing him such a powerful artifact that would keep him safe from the other Slytherins and Sirius Black if he managed to penetrate the castle's defense.

"Very well." Harry said feeling slightly anxious over the matter, "Tomorrow during the feast then."

Daphne offered him a sarcastic curtsey, and made her way up the stairs, with his eyes on her. Before she could clear the corner she turned and caught his eyes, "Be careful with that map Potter. It would be a dangerous thing to fall into the hands of your enemies."

With a final nod of his head, Harry turned and pushed open the exit that would take him to the grounds. His head was full of wonder at what Daphne Greengrass had just gifted him, and what he was getting himself into.

(A/N) A different way than I've ever read for Harry to get the Marauders Map, something that will help strengthen this budding alliance. More Daphne X Harry moments coming, but best believe this will be a pretty slowburn!

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