Nothing is mine.

Harry hears about a gift...

I Am the Diamond Glints in Snow

The Great Hall was filled, from the heaving, clamouring benches to the chilly, clear blue sky of the enchanted ceiling, with the rich aroma of bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, toast and roasted tomatoes.

Harry squinted at the reflection in the tall windows, scanning the Slytherin table for Daphne's blonde hair, but saw nothing other than Malfoy making wild, sharp gestures with his hand at someone a little shorter than he was, and Ron holding the marmalade in one hand and the distinct lack of a spoon in the other.

'What are you looking at out there?' Hermione laughed. 'Or are you staring at someone?'

'I'm not, actually,' he replied, twisting around to peer over the heads of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

'Not for lack of trying,' she retorted. 'What, you didn't get enough nonsense about Those Who Dream of Death—'

'In Death,' Harry said. 'They're undead, aren't they? Everyone dreams of dying, but they dream while being dead.'

'Sounds like you've got more than enough nonsense,' Hermione muttered. 'Ron, aren't you going to say anything?'

'Can someone please pass me a spoon?' Ron said. 'My toast is getting cold.'

Harry stole one from under Parvati's nose and passed it to him. 'There you go.'

'Really? That's it, Ron?' Hermione shook her head. 'Why am I not surprised? You're as bad as Harry is. The first blonde girl to undo some shirt buttons and suddenly you forget everything.'

'I very much suspect that Ron's not forgotten Lav's approach to shirt buttons in the slightest.' Harry chuckled to himself. 'And Daphne strongly objected to undoing shirt buttons.'

A small squeak escaped Hermione.

'What?' he asked. 'You were there, Hermione.'

'That wasn't me.' She leant back.

Astoria squirmed on the spot, fiddling with the fronds of her green-and-silver-striped scarf. 'Hi, Harry.'

'Hi Astoria, where's your sister?'

'Back at the table.' She glanced up, her mismatched eyes brimming with anxiety. 'Are you still going somewhere with my sister? On a date?'

'Are people still talking about that?' Harry asked. 'It's been a couple of weeks, surely they've got better things to do?'

'Not really,' Hermione muttered. 'Umbridge even banned Exploding Snap.'

'It's because she saw the little pictures on the cards and thought they were vampires,' Harry said. 'She hates vampires; they're tall and pretty and don't wear bright pink, and she's jealous.'

Astoria twitched and Ron snorted into his toast, spraying crumbs across the table.

'Draco said you're a Blood-Traitor and I shouldn't talk to you,' Astoria mumbled. 'But if you're still thinking about going anywhere alone with my sister—'

'Don't worry,' Harry said. 'We're not doing anything date-ish. Your parents, or whoever is going to be judgy about stupid things, aren't going to be all that upset.' Astoria's earlier words sank in and all the butterflies burst up from the bottom of his belly, swirling about in a storm of fluttering wings. 'Wait, who said it was a date? Was it Daphne? Because, you know, she is really pretty, and if she said that, then who am I to disagree—'

'Be careful,' Astoria whispered. 'Our family is cursed—' her eyes dropped to her scarf and she twisted the fronds around her fingers '—you shouldn't…' she glanced up and flushed bright pink, scampering away between the tables.

Harry watched her disappear behind a huddle of Hufflepuffs as they stood up to leave breakfast. 'Why did she run off all of a sudden? I still needed to know why she thought it was a date. If Daphne said it was a date, then…'

'Because she's weird,' Ron said.

'She's shy, Ron.' Hermione shook her head. 'And remember, she can see thestrals, so there's probably a good reason for it.'

Through the parting crowd of students at the door to the hall, Harry caught sight of Daphne, standing alone upon the threshold, her blonde hair tied up in a sleek knot of slim blonde braids and a gleaming garnet fang dangling from her ear.

'I'm done,' he said.

Hermione snorted. 'I bet you are. Just don't do anything stupid.'

'I never do.'

'Mate…' Ron snickered.

'I only do stupid things when you two are there to bear witness to my genius.' Harry flashed them a grin as he stood up. 'Besides, it's not like we're going anywhere; just a little wander around the school while being called a Blood-Traitor.'

He followed Astoria through the Hufflepuffs, but caught no sight of her in the crowd of students leaving the Great Hall or upon the Slytherin table, only Malfoy, who stared back, thin-lipped and scowling. Harry waved at him as he left, laughing under his breath as Malfoy sneered and turned away to mutter something in Pansy Parkinson's ear.

Daphne stood between the two gleaming suits of armour on the wall, holding the fingers of her right hand out into the bright winter sunlight pouring through the window. 'Harry,' she murmured.

Harry offered her a small smile. 'Daphne.'

A little shiver swept through her, sending the bright red fang hanging from her earlobe swaying back and forth into the few strands of loose, blonde hair that had escaped her braids. 'Hogsmeade, Harry?'

'I mean… we're not actually allowed anymore…'

Daphne's lips twitched and she turned around, raising her thumb to her lips and pressing it against the small bird scratched deep into the wall between the two suits of armour; she waited, watching the other students up the stairs out of sight. 'Fís y fygrwen,' she whispered, leaving a small crimson smear on the stone.

The wren spread its wings and burst into flames; the fire exploded across stone, and the wall crumbled into it, leaving a narrow dark crevice between the two suits of armour. She seized Harry's wrist in a warm, iron-tight grip and tugged him through after her.

The stone swept back into place, plunging them into the dark.

'This way,' Daphne whispered, pulling him on without a pause.

'Could we maybe have a little light?' Harry suggested, digging his heels in. 'I don't know this passage as well as you. Actually, I had no idea there even was one here until you used it back before Christmas.'

'Sorry.' She released his arm.

He rubbed some feeling back into his wrist and wiggled two fingers up his sleeve for his wand. 'Lumos.'

Pale, cool light emanated from the tip of it.

Daphne's ice-blue eyes stared back from no more than a hand's length away and all the butterflies burst free in his stomach, swirling in a storm of hot, tingling wings, then shrinking into a tight, trembling knot of tickling little legs. Beyond those loose strands of her blonde hair and the gleaming, garnet fang at her ear, the dark stone walls shone, worn smooth and glistening with damp; the faint, echoing drip of it filled the still, cool air, mingling with the soft sound of their breath and the beat of Harry's heart.

'What was the phrase to open it?' Harry forced the words through the butterflies. 'I wonder if I can add it to my map?'

'It will not work for you,' Daphne murmured, holding out her thumb; a bright bead of crimson clung to the ball of it. 'It takes blood to open. The blood of my kin.'

'Seriously? It only works for your family?'

She sucked the drop of blood away and dipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out a blood pop in its red wrapper. 'My family is not as old as yours, Harry, but we have been on these shores for longer than this castle has stood.'

'That's really awesome,' he said. 'You have your own secret passage. At least this finally explains how you and Astoria keep sneaking up on me all the time. Where does it go?'

'The Forbidden Forest.' She tore the wrapper free and slipped the blood pop past her lips.

'No the place with all the spiders.' Harry chuckled. 'And we didn't even bring Ron…'

She blinked.

'Ron hates spiders. Particularly acromantulae the size of elephants.'

Daphne wrinkled her pretty nose. 'How unsightly.'

'They're actually very sightly—' he laughed to himself '—they have loads of eyes.'

'Ridiculous,' she murmured, the corner of her mouth crooking. 'Come on, it is this way.'

Harry followed her along the winding passage, noting the small birds carved here and there upon the walls. 'Are those all…?'

Daphne crunched the blood pop. 'Yes.'

'Wow. How?'

'All those who believe know that the curse of my family will end when Dwyr Sy'n Tystio comes.' She trailed her fingertips along the stone as they walked, the echo of their footsteps filling the gloom beyond the pale light of Harry's wand. 'So our family cannot end until then, and no matter whether they loathe or love us, there is not a one among the faithful who would not help make sure we endure, for if we do not, all our hopes would crumble. The founders thought no differently when they raised this haven for magical children and invited all who were willing to attend; they allowed for this secret way fashioned by Salazar Slytherin himself.'

'There better not be another large snake down here.'

'There is not.'

'Well, that's good. And, speaking of good things, your sister doesn't seem too bad off, even afflicted,' he said. 'At least, not from what I've seen. She's quite shy, but…'

'She is barely touched by it,' Daphne murmured, turning a corner ahead of him.

Harry hurried after her.

Light filtered back along the passage, spilling down a narrow, worn set of steps and shining on the thin threads of white tree roots snaking along the walls and across the roof. The dead, sun-bleached wood of the roots and stump of some huge, ancient oak crowned the exit into the forest.

Daphne darted up the steps into the sun, lingering in its light for a moment to close her eyes and smile, and dropped down off the rock. Harry strode after her over centuries of steps worn deep into the stone and found himself at the edge of a two metre drop to a narrow path that wound through the carpet of flat, brown bracken, thick gnarled roots and the shadows of the tall trunks.

'Come on, Harry.' Daphne stood on the path before a patch of brambles, bending forward and tugging the tops of her socks up to her knees.

Harry leapt down, wincing at the flash of pain that stabbed up from the soles of his feet through his shins. 'You really need another set of steps to come down.'

'It is fine as it is.' Daphne licked some of the crimson blood-pop colour from her lips with a red-stained tongue. 'What was my sister saying to you this morning?'

'Oh, that.' He grinned. 'She's just worried about the two of us. Probably thinks Voldemort will murder you. Or he won't save you because you're my friend. Or your parents will be mad. I don't know exactly why, she ran off before I could ask.'

'Astoria can be… skittish,' Daphne said, taking a deep breath in through her nose. 'I love it out here. It is wild. Free. Alive. A little high magic must still linger in these ancient trees.'

'She warned about your family being cursed,' Harry said. 'The blood whatever.'

'The malediction of blood,' Daphne murmured, perching herself upon a fallen trunk. 'The curse of my family will endure until the coming of Dwyr Sy'n Tystio, until he finally brings this long Autumn to an end, ushering us into Winter and back to Spring. By his hand alone can our curse be lifted.'

And it all fell into place: that bright, near breathless hope, the unwavering, patient faith, the brilliant spark of yearning, and the glimmer of hunger underneath.

Harry offered her a small, gentle smile and sat beside her, staring out through the bare brown branches. 'You're hoping your sister will be saved.'

'Yes, I hope that my sister will be set free and have to live in fear no longer.'

'That's not such a horrible thing to hope for,' he said. 'I guess… if I had a sister, or, you know, any kind of family that cared or worried about me in the slightest, I'd hope they'd be saved, even if the one I thought might be doing the saving was a monster.'

'There are signs, Harry.' That little spark sprang to life in her ice-blue eyes, melting the winter from her gaze like snowflakes settling upon his skin. 'There are many. With each that we see, our hope grows, our belief that Dwyr Sy'n Tystio has finally come to lead the magical world to spring deepens. Ken y tyachtfech.'

'Signs like what? Dying and coming back?'

'Yes,' she whispered. 'He will return from the grip of Winter as none other can.'

'Catchy.' Harry laughed to himself. 'So Voldemort's kind of got that one nailed down, what with the whole dying and popping out of a cauldron like the world's creepiest rabbit out of a hat. Any others?'

'He will cross into the Veiled World like the wren and return, reborn,' Daphne whispered. 'He will wear the light of the winter world as his mantle. Those Who Dream in Death shall recognise his coming. And those who seek to bar his path shall fall before him.'

'Wow, there are loads of these. How do you even remember them all?'

'After five thousand years of hoping, who could forget?'

'You are all very patient. I could not wait that long, I'd probably have tried to fix it myself after at least the first thousand years.'

'Many have,' Daphne murmured. 'False leaders. They and all those who followed them fell at the whim of Fate like autumn leaves on the wind.'

'You'd think you'd run out of leaves eventually.'

'When the last leaf falls, it will be Winter.'

The yearning in her blue eyes burnt bright, swelling from small spark to fierce flame, fed by an unwavering, unyielding hope that Harry could not quite find the heart to speak against now he knew the root of it.

'Do you want to hear it all?' Daphne murmured.

'Hear all of what?'

'Prof y Sidhe,' she whispered. 'Not the first, or the second, not even the hundredth; the words have been passed down since they were first gifted to our ancestors, translated again and again as our ancestors came and went, passing their hope down to us.'

'Are you even allowed to tell a Blood-Traitor the actual words?'

'You are no Blood-Traitor.'

Harry laughed and wiped an imaginary tear from his cheek. 'I'm touched. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Does this mean you're going to tell me I'm not like the other boys and suddenly start undoing buttons like Lavender?' His gaze dipped for an instant to the white blouse beneath her black school robes. 'Seriously, how are you in summer uniform? You should be an icicle, it's not warm out here.'

Her lips twitched. 'You spurn the simple, step-by-step magic the ICW would impose on us, I have watched you do it lesson after lesson. I told you the truth of high magic; you called it beautiful and came back to hear more…' Colour blossomed across her cheeks. 'Say you do not revere magic for what it is, for how it feels, for what it can bring, but just for what it can do for you, and I will call you a liar, Harry.'

'Well…' Harry's half-hearted objection drowned somewhere in Daphne's bright blue eyes. 'Technically, you know that was a confession, right, I knew you were staring really.'

She smiled, a small, impish satisfied grin, and the two little dimples that appeared on her cheeks snatched a beat from the tune of Harry's hammering heart. 'I think you see, Harry.'

'All I see right now is you,' he whispered.

A little blush rose on Daphne's cheeks and she bit her lip, twisting the soft pink of it beneath her white teeth until it paled. 'Listen,' she murmured. 'Let me tell you the words you should have grown up knowing.'

'I'm listening to you.'

'A single hope for those at their own hand cursed, by the blood of his kin they will know him first; born the last bereft branch of withered tree, come from setting sun to allow you free. His first step taken beneath all the stars, to lead those chosen on the path of Mars; the Wren to show our winter back to wonder, come upon the land of apples like thunder. On long silent solstice his clear voice will sing. And lead all wychfolke to great green spring.'

Harry blinked. 'You might have to say it several more times if I'm going to have to remember all that.'

'It is just one of many.' Daphne bent and pulled her socks back up to her knees, smoothing out the green-and-silver-striped bows. 'There have been a thousand poems and songs and stories. Dwyr Sy'n Tystio will not come unheralded. And we will know him when he comes.'

Something niggled at Harry and he frowned. 'You said I should have grown up knowing this…?'

'No Pure-blood in Britain does not know it,' she whispered. 'The ICW have tried for over a thousand years to stifle it all across Europe; they have tried to silence the words of the Veiled World and defy Destiny. They have murdered those who spoke too loudly, burnt books, burnt trees, destroyed our doorways to the other realm, imposed law after law to obscure the truth of magic, but even as we dwindle in number, our faith grows stronger. For as we grow fewer, the moment must grow closer. As the last leaves fall, Winter nears. Dwyr Sy'n Tystio will be here soon. He must be.'

'Voldemort.'

'Born of the line of Gaunt, known by the Parseltongue of Slytherin's blood, walking without fear, recognised by Those Who Dream in Death, dying and returning…' The corner of Daphne's mouth crooked. 'You can see why they believe…'

'I guess if they believe all the rest...' He shook his head. 'But that's not what's most weird. If everyone knows this prophecy thing—'

'Prof y Sidhe.'

'Yes. That. The culty Pure-blood thing.' Harry flashed her a broad grin. 'If everyone knows, why does Voldemort care so much about finding it in the Ministry and showing everyone? They already know. He'd just be wasting time and effort, and I'm sure he has creepy murders he'd rather be doing or more of these signs to be doing. You know, whatever it takes to convince everyone that it's him, so he can persuade them all to help him get what he wants, which is, I assume, killing all the Muggles and the Muggle-borns and anyone he doesn't like.' He paused to consider any possible gaps on the list. 'And me, of course.'

'The Ministry only has prophecies spoken after the founding of the Unspeakables by the ICW. Only about the last eight hundred years. The Ministry itself is even younger, a facade for the ICW as discontent rose at its old-fashioned feudal dominance over most magical affairs.'

'So?'

'So how would they have a recording for a prophecy that is four thousand years old?'

'It would be a bit tricky,' Harry conceded. 'So what, it's a different one?'

'It must be something more recent, something that confirms he is Dwyr Sy'n Tystio. The ICW will kill anyone who hears something like that. They have before.' Daphne lowered her voice to a soft whisper. 'Although, there are rumours that when Voldemort first rose to power, he had the secret support of one of Pendragon's rivals on the ICW. And many of his first supporters were from the Nordic countries, all of which are subject to the Jarls Volsung…'

He snorted. 'Well, I know nothing about the ICW, but stop the monster and all that stops, too.'

'And what if it is him, Harry?' she murmured.

'Well, if he's some great mystical wielder of high magic, then I guess I'm just a bit fucked. And since he kind of did return from dying, that doesn't bode well for me, all things considered.' Harry turned it over in his head, thinking of all those strange dreams over the summer, and wondering if perhaps, somehow, the memory of that dreadful shadow beyond the stars had been more than just a dream; if that bargain he had struck might have truly swallowed his cloak somewhere beyond the boundaries of the dream; if Voldemort might have made some pact of his own. But no dread crept upon him to steal his breath and goad his heart to hammering, not the slightest touch of the fear he'd felt before reached him, so he smiled instead, smiled at Daphne and let it all slide away from his mind. 'Oh well, one thing at a time, first I have to make a mess of whatever complicated scheme he's hatched for this prophecy so he can't use it to do anything awful. I should just go steal it myself, but Hermione thinks it might be a trap and she'll sulk for real if I go running off somewhere dangerous after she said she didn't want me to.'

'You cannot remove them from the Ministry if they are not about you. That is the only law that yet remains about them. The Ministry maintains an appearance of democracy to conceal the absolute power of the ICW behind it, and, so far, they have failed to convince the Wizengamot to overturn the right a wizard or witch has to hear any words pertaining to their own fate.'

'Apparently, I'm involved in it.' Harry laughed. 'I always end up involved somehow.'

'Of course you are,' Daphne breathed.

'Hermione always says that too, though, she usually rolls her eyes and acts like it's somehow my fault.' Harry chuckled to himself. 'She's completely right of course, no sane twelve-year old would pick a fight with a giant snake that can kill you literally with a blink.'

'You should go, Harry' she whispered. 'Take the DA with you. Take me. Take this prophecy from where they have tried to hide it and let us all see what it says together.'

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linktr . ee / mjbradley