Author's Note: Just to be clear, for reasons that will become apparent, the canon grandparents of Harry are Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. As in, the parents of James Potter.
The holiday break had been eventful, to say the least. His plans to visit Diagon Alley were derailed by his hen of a mother who decided she needed to check in on him every hour or so. He only got her to stop by telling her he'd be spending some time with Sirius. It wasn't a complete lie, but it also wasn't true.
The marauders had so graciously bestowed a mirror upon him. Magical, of course. The purpose was mainly for their safety first and foremost, but it could be used for mischief. They'd probably envisioned him and his sister teaming up on legendary pranks, or something along the lines of that.
Harry remembered their explanation about its uses and he'd gotten to understand that it was to reach out if any of them were in danger. The mirror worked like a muggle phone–Harry needed to call out the name of the Marauder he wanted to reach. It could be his father, Remus, Sirius, Iris, and even his mother, but she technically wasn't a Marauder.
"Did you think about it like you said you would, Uncle Sirius?" Harry asked the mirror, his uncle groggily looking up into it from wherever he was laying down. Probably in a pub or the bed of whatever witch he managed to ensnare.
"You win, Harry. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do. The address is twelve Grimmauld Place. I'll tell Kreacher you're coming." Sirius flipped off the bed and Harry caught a glimpse of a sleeping red-haired woman wrapped in bed sheets. His face turned green as he realized his earlier assumption was correct.
"Uh, thanks Sirius. I'd like to keep living so I'll take what you said with a grain of salt." Harry quipped, eager to hang up on Sirius. His uncle's dalliances were no business of his.
"Hold on, not so fast. This is no laughing matter, Harry. Your parents would kill me if something happened to you. I've done my best to clean up the place but my family…" Sirius sighed, lifting a vial to his lips and drinking the mysterious substance. "Much better. Why can't you wait for me to go with you? Better yet, why don't you go back to Hogwarts and hang out with Iris? My stuffy old childhood home is nothing compared to the castle."
"What happened to the old padfoot? I just want to have a little fun and your dark, mysterious home sounds like the perfect challenge. It's not like I'm in any real danger, right? Come on, old man." Harry did his best to steer the conversation away from any thought of postponing the trip to the ancestral home.
A raspy voice interrupted their conversation, calling his uncle to come back to bed. Harry heard his Uncle stutter back his response with an excited expression. "I need to go, Harry. Just promise me you'll be careful, ok?" Harry nodded and hung up promptly before his Uncle changed his mind or revealed more than he wanted to see.
A few minutes later
Harry dropped onto a dusty carpet like a sack of potatoes. "I fucking hate the floo." He coughed out unhealthy amounts of dust that had climbed into his throat, his bruised limbs groaning as he pushed himself up. The first thing he noticed about the home was the odd smell. Rotten eggs mixed with mold and the unbearably humid stink.
"This place must have been beautiful once." The old beautiful home was oppressively grim. The Blacks must have taken inspiration from Hogwarts, judging by the slashed portraits ominously lining the long, narrow hallways. Who slashed them?
"Kreacher, tries his best." A grey, little creature interrupted his observations, standing on the third step of the staircase. "You are the Master's half-blood godson. Why did you come bother Kreacher?"
This was the first time Harry had ever met a hostile house elf. His family had a few but they were the most subservient and kind creatures he had ever met. They were always eager to apologize and please which creeped him out a bit but they were useful little things.
"Don't mind me. I'll be in the library or wherever it is that you keep any books." Harry told him, hoping the creepy house elf would go away. He took a look around the shadowy first floor and realized he had no idea where anything was. "Actually, I think it would be nice if you guided me there. You know where that is?"
Kreacher looked at him with disdain but nodded nonetheless. Harry followed the house elf down the dim corridors, part of him began to fear the house elf was leading him to a trap. His excitement at having managed to get into his uncle's home was fading and being replaced with worry. He remembered his uncle's words about the darkness in the house and Harry was beginning to realize he wasn't just talking about the lack of light.
"This is a kitchen… What are we doing here? This isn't a library." Harry tried to question the house-elf but was simply ignored. Kreacher walked over to a cupboard and opened it up. Inside there were piles of books strewn about. Harry reached in and opened them up hastily. Fine Cuisine and the French Maid's guide. Mastering the Noble's stomach. The Round Table's favorites. The Handmaid's Half-Baked Harvest.
"Ha, ha, ha, very funny. Kreacher, I want to read magical tomes not this crap." Harry slipped the books into his book bag as some of them did sound appealing.
Kreacher gave him an ugly half smile and sneer. "The blood traitor's new family is no family of Kreacher. Kreacher isn't bound to anyone but the Blacks." He popped away and Harry was left staring dumbly at the grimy kitchen floor.
"Lumos." Through herculean amounts of perseverance and bravery, Harry searched the house carefully and slowly. The place was a never-ending hole, starved of light. Floorboards creaked randomly around him, but shining his wand light their way revealed nothing. At times, he heard them coming from the floor above him as if someone was pacing around upstairs. Sirius said the house was abandoned. No one should be here. Could it be Kreacher?
Despite the noises, Harry found the second floor empty. No creaking, no footsteps, no soul in sight. There must have been a leak, water damage stained the peeling wallpaper, and a few of the doors were swollen. "Open, you stupid door."
He backed up, threw his small frame forward, and slammed into the wood. It finally gave way, flinging him forward and onto the floor for the second time during this miserable visit. The room was unmistakably feminine—its décor lacy and old-fashioned. A moving photograph, clipped to the edge of a dust-dulled mirror, confirmed it.
"Mrs. Tonks?" Harry murmured. The woman in the photo looked eerily like Nymphadora's mother, Andromeda. Two other figures stood beside her, near twins, they all bore the same haughty beauty. The Black sisters. He clipped the photo back to the mirror and checked the rest of the room.
He moved to open the closet, hoping to finish the sweep quickly, when a sudden avalanche of wooden plaques tumbled out. Harry stumbled back just in time, eyes wide as the heap settled with a heavy clatter. Unsettled, he picked one up, noting its hefty weight. He immediately wished he hadn't.
"Bloody hell!" The plaque fell from his hands with a dull thud. His stomach twisted. Dozens of real house-elf heads stared blankly back at him from their mounts. Their cloudy eyes gazed at nothing in particular. It was a grotesque sight.
Harry shut the door, hard, and staggered back into the hallway. He fought the urge to bolt down the stairs and leave the cursed house to rot. A little pep talk was needed to pull himself back together. The rest of the rooms were mercifully devoid of horror shows, but there was no library either.
He was at wit's end and about to leave when he found what he was looking for. A small winding staircase covered in cobwebs. He almost missed it but a bat had flown out from one of the corners causing him to stumble backwards into it.
The small wooden staircase led up to a cozy, spacious library with a decrepit furnace in the corner. The library was drafty and dim like the rest of the manor. For a magical house there is a mysterious lack of living magical portraits.
Harry cast a weak incendio spell to get the fire going. In the center of the room there was an odd, glassy looking table that reminded him of obsidian. The edges were dull but some of the edges areas near the base looked dangerously sharp. Most of the furniture lay in a pile off to the side with only a few cushioned chairs remaining. This must have been Sirius. He did say he cleaned this place up as best he could.
Bookshelves made of dark mahogany were built into the long walls. A closer look revealed another row of bookshelves on top of the first layer. A wheeled ladder used to reach them, laid in disrepair, one of its steps snagged on a mounted elk head. Books littered the floor as if someone had flung them off the shelves.
"Hello there, little boy. Who are you and how did you find your way into this place?" Harry's head sharply turned to the side and then to the other, searching for the origin of the voice. "Hmmm, if I had to guess, I'd say you are a Potter."
"Who said that?" Harry's wand lit up with lumos and he searched the room for any hiding people.
"Up here, you simpleton." Harry looked up at the wall and saw a pair of eyes staring at him through a mess of cobwebs. Harry fell to the ground in fright, crawling backwards rapidly. This forsaken house was one good scare from stopping his heart entirely.
"I'm a portrait. You can relax, now if I were alive… then you might have a reason to fear me." The woman said maliciously. Harry's breath slowed along with his rapid heartbeat. He lowered his wand and picked himself up, his cheeks red at the embarrassing display of cowardice.
"Are you going to free me of these pesky webs or what, boy? Well, go on now! What are they teaching you snotty brats at Hogwarts nowadays, have the standards really fallen so low?" The mysterious woman demanded, her tone snide and deprecating.
Harry grunted, smarting from her jibes, and lifted his wand. "Scourgify." The cobwebs vanished from the ceiling, revealing the portrait of a woman who looked exceptionally alike to the Black sisters he saw in the photo. "Wingardium Leviosa." The portrait was pulled off the wall and down onto the obsidian table, where it reclined against a stack of books.
"What a skillful use of those spells! Well done, you make our family proud, boy. Now will you introduce yourself or will you keep this lady waiting? I'd have liked to think that my own descendants would have more decorum than this!" Her lip curled with her nose in the air. This woman loved dishing out barbs even when complimenting someone.
"Descendants?" The woman glared at him. "Right, I am Harry Potter. You were right about me being a Potter, how did you know?" Were Potters just that exceptional, handsome, and distinguished to the point of being recognized at a mere glance? Sure he could tell a tosser like Draco Malfoy apart from others but that was different.
"I just know. So Harry Potter, who are your parents?" The woman asked suspiciously, her condescending tone grating on his nerves.
"How about you share something now? What are we doing here? Twenty questions?" Harry shot back with a mocking tone not too different from hers.
"Dorea Potter." The woman smirked, enjoying his stunned expression and shock. "Now who are your parents? I want to know more of my descendants."
Harry recovered, a part of him excited that he was speaking to one of his ancestors. "If you're a Potter then what are you doing here? Why aren't you with us or in one of our properties?"
Dorea adopted a thinking pose. "I'm not sure but I remember being in this room since the day I could first move around. Your intrusion has caused me to awake from my slumber but I can't be certain as to how long I've been asleep."
"To answer your question, my parents are James and Lily Potter. Before you ask, since I'm sure this is why you're asking, yes, my mother is a muggle-born." Harry's eyes narrowed as he observed her reaction. An action that was entirely unnecessary.
"What!" To say Dorea Potter was enraged would be an understatement. "Wha- How? My own blood has been sullied and trampled upon. It is no wonder why my family took this portrait away. I see now, I was granted a mercy, saved from seeing the fall of my own bloodline." Dorea leaned back against the edge of the portrait, holding a hand to her forehead.
Cold, searing anger flooded his veins. "That's my family you are speaking off! Yours as well but I see you have made your choice. I was going to ask if you wanted to relocate somewhere nicer, but I think this rotting house suits you just fine." Dorea made no attempts to hide her disgust and only went back to looking down at him through her nose.
"Disgusting, half-blood. Get out of my sight." Harry ignored her before he did something he might regret. He looked through as many books as he could. His uncle's family lived up to their reputation. Nearly the entire collection of books could be considered dark if not outright abyssal. Blood Maledictions. Anything he could find on blood-related magic, he pocketed.
There were a few other books on interesting magic like Refining the Mind and its Arts. The rest held interesting hexes, jinxes, and useful curses he decided to pocket on the off chance he needed them in the future. Sure it's dark stuff but I need to know about them to counter them, right?
Harry looked around for a sturdier chair and spotted one in the pile. A turquoise chair with good cushions called out to him so he pulled it out after several tries. "That does it. Oh-" Harry could see another room previously hidden by the pile. Doors made of black steel blocked the entrance along with the furniture.
With his curiosity growing by the second, Harry pushed more furniture aside to get to the doors. After much effort, Harry reached out for the doorknob only to be shocked and met with a blistering pain crawling up his arm. "Arghh!" Harry stumbled back clutching his arm in tremendous pain. He breathed in deeply, for countless minutes, his mind coped with the pain by dissociating and focusing on other trivial thoughts. Quidditch…Krum…transfiguration reading assignment…have to get better at potions…Snape is a lousy professor.
Harry could hear Dorea cackling from her position on the table, her portrait facing away from him, but she was clearly aware of what had happened. "You thought you could just come in here and loot us, did you?" Her voice filled with the ever-present scorn. "You half-bloods are all the same!" She cackled again.
Harry walked back to the portrait. He stood there waiting for Dorea to stop laughing. "What happened there?"
Dorea shot his red, blistering arm a glance, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What do you think happened? You tried to force your way into a place you did not belong and got a little pain for it. Believe me, your punishment would have been a thousand times worse if you weren't of my precious blood. What a pity I couldn't see you turn into a tiny pile of ash."
"What a shame. So I guess I need permission to enter the room?" Harry clutched his arm tighter, the pain would flare randomly, giving him false hope every time it seemingly went away but it only returned with vengeance.
"Precisely. You need the blood of a true Black, something you will never be. You are no Potter either. Merely a mockery of our prestigious history, dragging our names through the mud with every worthless breath of air you take." Harry now knew where this insanity came from. Sirius was not too different but luckily he chose to channel it towards good causes.
"I see. This fake Potter will be the last thing you see then. Don't worry, you are no ancestor of mine either. I spit on your lineages and worthless ancestry. Your family is gone now. Reduced to a single man and a dying has-been. You can meet the rest in hell." Dorea's wide eyes flickered down to his wand and the small flame growing at its tip.
"Wait! Don't destr-" The flame consumed the screeching portrait until smoldering ashes were all that was left.
"There's your pile of ashes, bitch." Harry clutched his arm again as the pain gave its best before fading completely. "Ahh!" He banged his other arm against the wall until the horrible sensation dissipated.
"I have to stop stupidly touching things." Harry considered himself lucky that the books themselves weren't cursed or protected by a similar enchantment. Or perhaps they were but his Black blood allowed him access. He wiped his tears and snot away, not ashamed to admit that he did cry a bit.
Harry left the room and made his way down to the fireplace. He was done with the house for now. There was no way he was asking Sirius about the locked room. His godfather had purposely blocked it off for a reason and that meant he disapproved of what lay within the room. In fact, he had to make sure no one suspected the true purpose of his visit.
Thankfully, Harry was sure they still thought of him as a simple first-year with no interest in the dark arts. If his Potter Luck was high enough, Sirius might not even tell anyone he allowed him into Grimmauld Place unsupervised. Getting rid of the portrait was probably something he would have had to do regardless of Dorea's foul attitude. If he hadn't, she might have alerted Sirius or Arcturus in some foolish, misguided hope that they might retrieve the stolen books for family honor or what not.
I did not commit murder. It was just a stupid portrait. Harry reasoned. Yet her screams echoed in his head non-stop. She was not a real person. He threw a bit of Floo powder into the fireplace and left for his house. Her melting and screeching face was all he could think about though.
The Potter manor was empty but a quick look at the clock told him that his father was coming home soon. The question now was how he got access to the rest of the library, assuming the locked room was a library as well. Or something more. The other options were Arcturus Black, Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Bellatrix Lestrange, and maybe Nymphadora too.
Andromeda, Nymphadora, Narcissa, and Arcturus Black were off the table. Andromeda and Nymphadora would likely tell his parents. Arcturus had yet to undo their banishment so it was unsure if they'd even be allowed entry. Narcissa was the wife of a death-eater and the mother of Draco Malfoy.
Arcturus Black might still have been a possibility, but the man was nearing death, and he'd hardly welcome a Potter plundering the secrets of House Black. Harry had met the old patriarch once as a boy and still remembered the look Arcturus gave him—and his mother. The kind of look one reserves for an insect that's wandered too close. His father and Iris were the exception for obvious reasons.
Bellatrix Lestrange was in Azkaban as of right now but she was the only one who didn't pose an immediate threat of discovery. She was almost certainly completely bonkers so Harry hoped she might just give him permission if he managed to trick her. How hard could tricking a lunatic be? They allow visits to Azkaban so maybe I might be able to wiggle my way in there. If not then sneaking in might be necessary. How though? That was a question for another time.
"Harry?" His mother called from the fireplace. Going back to the living room, Harry found her floating head in the fireplace.
"Hey, mum. Did you need something?" Harry asked innocently.
"Why do you have your book bag with you? I thought you said you'd take a break from studying?" She asked suspiciously. Harry's blood ran cold, realizing he forgot to hide it.
"Yeah, but I'm a Ravenclaw. I'm hopelessly addicted to reading, you know how it is. Everything going well over there?" Harry asked.
She stared at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes but eventually relaxed. "Wonderfully." She stepped through and Harry was approaching unimaginable levels of stress. His book bag felt like an anvil hanging off his shoulder.
His mother stood in front of him, her suspicious stare back on her face. "You seem a little nervous? What did you do, honey?" Lily Potter kneeled down to face level with her son. "Do I need to have a talk with Sirius?"
"What did I do? Really, mom? I think you should be asking Iris that!" Harry declared with nervous laughter, one his mother joined him in. "I'm not sure how much of the stuff I hear is just the Hogwarts rumor mill exaggerating things but the school is convinced Iris vanquished a mountain troll, survived a five-hundred meter fall, and dueled the entire house of Slytherin after curfew. I think you're worried about the wrong child…"
Lily put her hand on his shoulder, inadvertently touching the book bag's strap. "Give me your books. I won't have my son wasting away in his room all through the holiday break." Harry's stomach dropped so far down he could feel it in his feet.
"Noooo. Just ground me or something." Harry took a few steps back before his mother could wrap her fingers around the strap. She reached for it again, commencing a small game of cat and mouse.
"That's enough from you, young man. Give me the bag. You're coming back with me to Hogwarts and we will have an enjoyable Christmas together." Harry booked it past her and to the fireplace. However, his floo powder met an extinguished set of logs. Behind him, Lily had her wand drawn and was smiling cheekily.
"Ok, you win, mom. I'll go back and have a good Christmas with all of you. I promise, I'll go without a fight, but my book bag stays with me." Harry tried to bargain. "If you take my books away then I'll be the most unpleasant son you have ever seen. I could ruin the holidays by acting up."
Lily sighed and lowered her wand. "Okay… but if I don't see you at every meal and talking with your sister, you will not like what I'll do." Her narrowed eyes pierced his own. Harry nodded like a madman.
"I'll see you there, mom. I just need to pack my things and I'll floo to your office." Lily patted his head and kissed him on the cheek.
"Remember, this is all for your own good. A good mother always looks after her children." She kissed his head again and gave him a tight hug. One Harry begrudgingly returned.
"Message received." She smiled and left soon after. Harry packed his belongings and thought over the progress he had made. The holiday break wasn't a waste and he believed some of the books he acquired could be useful. The only problem was that his mom would be watching him like a hawk, so the Room of Requirement might not be possible.
If it was then he couldn't camp out in there for hours. Harry found himself hoping Iris would do something big and chaotic that could draw their mother's attention. He couldn't afford to have his mother breathing down his neck like this.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief after he finished dropping the books off in the Room of Requirement. The entrance would have to change whenever classes resumed but for now, his dorm was empty. It wouldn't do for one of his dorm mates to accidentally trigger the entrance open. If Harry was not mistaken, the room opened whenever someone in close proximity to the entrance found themselves in dire need of something.
Harry had wanted an escape from his mother so the room provided just that or so he theorized. "Wotcher, Harry." Nymphadora Tonks greeted in the corridor. Harry raised an eyebrow at the random encounter.
"Wotcher, Tonks." Harry reciprocated. "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong but aren't you like an Auror now?"
She nodded. "Auror in training but, yes, my mom made plans last year to spend the holidays with your family." Harry remembered now. He would be pressed to remember a holiday dinner they weren't part of.
"Oh, and here I thought you were repeating the seventh year." Nymphadora's hair turned a dark shade of red. "Maybe this time around they'll let you come to a proper house like Ravenclaw. A Hufflepuff becoming an Auror, good joke." He teased with a shit-eating grin. He regretted his words almost immediately. The halls were empty of witnesses and ripe for the perfect murder. Who better to get away with it than an Auror?
"Keep talking and I'll turn you into a puppy." She threatened, her hair returning to its exotic pink. I wish I was a metamorphmagus. "Hufflepuffs are superior to you bookworms anyway. Right, Harry?" Her wand poked his ribs. The Great Hall entrance was a few feet away, giving him a little extra confidence.
"Whatever you say, Nymph." Harry practically threw himself into the view of the professors. At the entrance, Nymphadora remained out of sight, her face flustered. She waved him back to the hallway outside the Great Hall but Harry shook his head.
"Come here you coward and take your punishment like a man." She whispered heatedly. Harry shook his head, a mocking smile on his face.
"What's wrong? Big strong Auror scared of her mommy?" For a moment, Harry thought she might actually curse him but he was confident she would never disgrace herself in front of her idol and crush. Dumbledore and Remus were both in attendance and had already taken a seat at the table.
A large Christmas tree with pretty ornaments stood in the center of the hall. Charmed decorations pranced around the ceiling in place of the usual candles. The starry night sky was snowing but it never went beyond a certain point. The knight statues occasionally opened their mouths to sing a Christmas carol.
"Nice of you to join us, Harry. I was under the impression that you would be staying home." Albus Dumbledore greeted Harry and Nymphadora who followed behind him. "Nice to have you as well, Nymphadora." The headmaster was the only person who could use her first name with no repercussions.
"My mother happened." Was all he said to the headmaster. Dumbledore chuckled, nodding in understanding.
"Harry!" Lily Potter smacked his arm, slightly abashed. Iris glared at him from the side, annoyed that he interrupted her conversation. "Why couldn't he just stay home?" Lily turned to her next and reprimanded her loudly, much to his sister's embarrassment.
Harry ignored them and took a look around the table. He could see his parents, Sirius, Remus, Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Sprout, Iris, Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Ted. A nice little reunion all things considered. The food was amazing and Harry was all too willing to dig in. The topics remained light with no mentions of schoolwork or adventures.
From eavesdropping on the adult conversations, he was able to learn that Arcturus would be making a partial recovery. An experimental procedure had been developed in time and the results were miraculous. Dumbledore congratulated Sirius and Andromeda on their grandfather's recovery. From what he gathered, the two were conflicted on the news so the old man must not have been one of the bad ones. There were talks of a new wing opening up at St. Mungos. A gift from the patriarch of House Black, no doubt.
"Oh, Sybill. Would you care to join us? This table has plenty of room for more friends." Dumbledore suddenly said, causing everyone to pause their conversations and dining. Harry spotted the Divination professor standing near the entrance. He'd heard stories of her classes and the whole school considered her a nutcase. Harry was inclined to agree. The smell of sherry overpowered the smell of roast turkey and potatoes, despite them being right in his face.
Please leave.
Professor Trelawney stood there, wide eyed and wide-mouthed. "I dare not join this cursed supper! Don't you know that when thirteen dine together, the first to get up shall surely die!" Harry froze midway to the duck leg he was trying to reach for. Everyone's eyes turned to the only standing member of the dinner. "You are cursed, boy!" I'm going to die? "Thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! You will die before everyone here." She whispered the last part but everyone heard it regardless.
Harry's mood soured with every word that left her lips. Dorea's screaming echoed in his ears, mixed with Trelawney's intonations of his approaching demise. Images of a melting woman and his own death raced violently through his mind. He didn't notice the way his breathing grew ragged, nor the way his mother reached out to take his trembling hand.
Then, silence. The noises of the Christmas feast evaporated. Only the sounds of ragged breathing remained, his and someone else's. His vision was blocked by smoke, thick and steamy. Harry turned sharply, trying to see who was breathing next to him, but something coiled tight around his limbs. A blurry figure emerged and towered over him with a wand pointed at his face.
Harry wanted to move, scream, or do anything, but his limbs were bound by what felt like ropes. He saw the wand's tip glow with an eerie green light pulsing wildly.
The killing curse! I'm going to die!
The curse surged forward, consuming his vision, while he desperately tried anything to move. The ropes dissipated and Harry fell back into his chair. His murderer was gone and he was back in the Great Hall.
"That is my son you are talking to, you drunken madwoman!" His mother, Lily stood up incensed. "He is not cursed and none of my children will die. I've had it with you and your poisonous nonsense. Take it back to whatever wretched hole spat you out and die there!" Her voice quavering, and emotional. Harry had never seen his mother so angry. Something about the professor's words had struck a nerve.
The verbal brawl ended the Christmas dinner early before it could turn physical or magical. His father and everyone else tried to calm Lily down. Trelawney tried to defend herself and the situation only escalated. Dumbledore had no other choice but to dismiss everyone. Harry was only happy he was allowed to take leftovers back to his room.
The winds of winter harshly blew past his face. The hour was late but Harry couldn't think straight no matter how hard he tried. Trelawney's words had left a mark and it showed no signs of fading. Anytime he tried to sit down and work on anything, he could vividly see the green light rushing towards him. So he decided to do what any normal person would do when stressed. Take a walk by their school's private lake, one that contains a giant squid and a water colony of Merpeople.
The moon reflected beautifully on the lake, the stars were a whole show of their own. The view from the Astronomy tower was surely miles better than what he could see. He was content with what he had, and it's not like it mattered, someone up in the tower wouldn't be able to appreciate the lake. If he squinted real hard, he could see moving lights under the water. Probably the Merpeople. Harry pulled his coat tighter and hurried along.
On his way up to the castle, Harry heard the sounds of crying. Worried that it might be someone in need, he followed the whimpering and stumbled upon a girl sitting under a tree. Night had fallen over them so he couldn't see who it was at first glance. As he walked closer, Harry could make out the green overtones on her black robes. He wanted to do a three sixty and go about his way but something about the girl was familiar.
Harry drew his wand out but decided against casting lumos right in the poor girl's face. "Hey, are you– Daphne?" He recognized the blonde hair immediately even though he couldn't see her face as it was hidden by her cascading hair. Daphne's head snapped upwards to his, her red-rimmed eyes gazed into his through the blonde fountain of hair.
"Uh, I'll give you some space. Did you want me to call my sister?" Harry asked, while walking backwards. Daphne could be incredibly prideful and much like a wounded animal backed into a corner, they tended to lash out when vulnerable or hurt.
"No! I wasn't crying. I was enjoying the night sky. I do this all the time!" She jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm before he could go. I should have just gone to the room.
"Okay, I guess I just got the wrong impression." Harry nervously said, her iron grip was not only tightening but pulling him in as well. "You can let go now! I'm sorry I disturbed your peace."
"Why did you want to call your sister then?" She asked, interrogatively. A manic gleam in her eyes. Harry pulled his arm away but she was a lot stronger than she looked. "Stop resisting!"
"Alright! Just let go!" Daphne unexpectedly released his arm mid-pull and his own momentum sent him spiraling backward. The tree spot overlooked the lake from a vantage point, a fun fact he became painfully aware of as his back only found air instead of grass. His world flipped upside down, the lake's rocky shore entered his vision as he flailed uselessly.
"Harry!" He could hear Daphne's panicked scream but it faded as the end approached. Harry wanted to scream but no sounds came out of his mouth. I want to live. I still have so much I must do! As his body soared downwards, the Divination professor entered his thoughts. Life flashed before his eyes in a dreadfully slow fashion.
Trelawney was speaking the truth after all. He'd always wondered why she was allowed to stick around. Growing up, he was told Hogwarts was the most prestigious magical school in the world. The oldest and probably the first as well. After what happened during the feast, the questions in his mind only multiplied. Why was she allowed to stay even though everyone considered her a lunatic and fraud?
Her mother was supposedly a famous seer but it was obvious her daughter possessed none of her talent or gifts. Dumbledore didn't strike him as a man who chose a candidate based on their family's name. He'd done a little digging after the feast and found out she was hired the same year his grandparents died.
Dumbledore was a constant in their lives, something that always baffled him. As far as he could remember, the old wizard had always been there for his parents. He sometimes attended the parties and generally hovered over his family since his birth. Dumbledore never used them to push an agenda; his family lived a nice, quiet life all things considered.
The headmaster was a famous figure himself in their society. The one who defeated Grindelwald and the only wizard Voldemort ever feared. Iris was often pulled away to have meetings with Dumbledore. What did they discuss? His sister would never tell him nor would his parents.
Why did Voldemort target his family and why personally come kill his sister that night? Why were they so hush hush about Iris? The silence was telling all on its own. A major piece of an unseen puzzle was in his grasp yet he needed more… more time. I don't have more time. I need more time!
Harry watched as the shore approached. There needed to be more time yet it marched on without care. The cold air burned the back of his throat as he grasped at it, hoping there was something he could grab onto. But the air offered no mercy, no grip, and no salvation. The traitorous element wouldn't obey, it only whistled uselessly past his ears as the ground opened up its embrace.
"Help me!" Harry screamed in frustration, his eyes shut tight, not able to bear the sight of his premature death. A sharp, warm tug in his abdomen distracted him momentarily. Then he could feel a change in the air, it was a heavy sensation, almost encumbering. The whistling air quieted and only the gentle breeze passed by. Harry opened his eyes and found himself floating in mid air. The ground was still too far below him but no longer deadly. Was that accidental magic?
His eyes searched the surroundings for a good samaritan. He figured someone might have used the slowing charm on him, like an older student or teacher. Seeing no one, he stretched his foot out to see if he could move and found that his whole body followed. He descended to the shore safely in a controlled manner.
His heartbeat slowed but the stress remained so he sat down to rest. His thoughts naturally wandered towards Trelawney's prophecy and whether he had overcome his fate. Or she's full of it. Always a possibility. His eyelids fluttered in exhaustion and he considered falling asleep on the rocky ground. The view wasn't half-bad, although he couldn't see the moon's reflection like he might have on the other side of the Black Lake.
A series of shouts grew louder and Harry began to think it was his dreams intermingling with reality. "Harry!" A young female's voice screamed out for him. Daphne? The urge to not say anything grew with every flutter of his eyelids but it would be cruel to let her stew in worry.
"Over here!" Her heavy breathing neared and she broke into his clearing, out of breath. She was red-faced and teary, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sympathy for her. Daphne nearly tripped running to him, a sight he would have laughed at if he weren't so tired.
"Thank goodness! I thought the worst when I didn't hear anything. Are you…" Daphne found him lying on his back, his eyes fighting to stay open. "What should I do? Are you hurt?"
"I'm dying. The fall has left me paralyzed and I can feel my soul preparing to leave." Daphne choked out a sob, her whimpers were incredibly amusing. "It's going to be alright. I'm going to close my eyes now."
"Don't! Stay away from the light!" Daphne grabbed him by the collar and shook him violently. Harry stilled and slowed his breathing. It was hard not to laugh. Only his commitment to the bit and a need for revenge pushed the laugh back down his throat.
"I'm getting sleepy." Harry went limp in her arms, his breathing completely stopped. Daphne shook him harder but eventually laid him down to rest. A few moments of silence followed and Harry was getting ready to reveal the truth when a pair of lips smashed down on his. The air in her lungs forced their way into his, a very uncomfortable action that nearly suffocated him. Her hands clumsily pushed down on his chest in an effort to revive him.
Feeling her lips, Harry's mind blanked and refused to think of what to do next. They were warm, soft and tender against his own cold lips. His lungs began to ache, allowing him to snap out of it and gather the strength to sit up. "Get off me!" Daphne was surprised to see his speedy return and yelped in surprise. Harry breathed in and out desperately, his lungs aching from her rough attempt at mouth-to-mouth.
"I thought you said you were paralyzed." Daphne asked tiredly. Harry wanted to demand what right she had to look so exhausted, when he was the one who had nearly died.
"It was a joke. I wanted to prank you. I didn't think you would ever try something like that." Harry wiped his lips in disgust and spat her saliva out of his mouth. Part of him seethed that his first kiss had been taken by the wrong girl; the other part was simply worn down—tired, hungry, and too drained to care
"You, prat!" She packed one hell of a punch. "I thought you were dead! And you played with my emotions… I… I should kill you for real!" Harry thought it was a little unfair seeing as it was her fault.
"If my memory doesn't fail me, I believe it was you who got us into this mess." Daphne's indignation was replaced by guilt. She sat on her side with a hand holding her body up. She shivered as a cold wind passed over the lake. Harry retrieved his wand and cast a warming charm over them both.
"Are you going to tell the professors?" Daphne asked in a small voice. Harry had planned on reporting it; only to prevent her from spinning another story but it appeared that wouldn't be necessary. You never knew with Slytherins and Daphne had always been one through and through.
"I won't say anything if you don't." Daphne tilted her head, confused by his response. He should let them know what happened but he was afraid his mother might really start to baby him. The traumatic events of tonight were enough punishment.
"Thank you, I won't forget this. We should get back inside or Filch will have our heads." She thrust her hand out to help him up. The two walked back up to the castle in silence, only the sounds of grass and leaves rustling could be heard.
"Are you going to tell me why you were crying?" Harry asked. Daphne noticeably tensed, a conflicted look on her face. "I don't mean to pry. It's fine if you want to keep it a secret."
"No, I owe you this much." Daphne said, her voice quavering. "I was home for the holidays…" She took a deep breath and her face hardened. "Astoria wasn't there. My mom told me she was in St. Mungos for a check-up." He wasn't sure why but reaching out to grab her arm felt right. She didn't protest and linked her arm into his without a word. "I saw blood on her pillow when I checked her room.
Astoria Greengrass was not always as sickly as she currently was. Harry remembered a time when she played with Ginny and Iris for hours on end. A little rocket who had inexhaustible stores of fuel, bouncing from one room to the next. Always looking for something to do or someone to bother, usually him. It wasn't until recently, her ninth birthday to be exact, when things took a turn for the worse. She was always tired, clammy, pallid, and sad. I remember feeling happy that she was not so loud anymore.
She spent weeks in St. Mungos for reasons he was never told about. Harry wrote it off as an illness she would soon recover from but her health only seemed to decline with each visit. It was depressing to see someone so full of life be reduced to such a state.
"Do you know what is making her sick?" Harry tried his best to carefully broach the subject. Astoria had practically been raised as a second sister to him. She was a cute little girl with a button nose he liked to pull, something that annoyed her to no end.
"A blood curse. One that has stuck to my family for generations." Daphne explained. Blood curse? Could this be linked to the blood magic I'm looking for? "The magic to undo blood curses doesn't exist and probably never will. It is foul dark magic of the worst kind. Powerful and persistent no matter how hard you try to fight it."
Foul blood magic? The dark arts? Blood of the dark soul? Harry filed away her words for later. "I think it's wise to be realistic but you shouldn't give up just yet. Astoria is a strong girl, a very hyperactive one too. She'll fight this with everything she has and she will need her sister to believe in her. If you need someone to talk to then know my door is always open for you." Harry consoled her.
He sucked at this emotional stuff but he needed to know of any developments regarding Astoria's blood curse. Blood was linked to some of the strongest magic around. Dumbledore said so himself when speaking about his grandmother's protection, although he didn't completely understand what that meant.
"I mistook you for a self-centered person. I had no idea you were this caring." Her words noticeably laced with conviction now. She wiped away the tears, most likely in preparation to enter the castle. "I'll take you up on that if you really meant it."
Harry stopped right outside the entrance. The frigid air no longer bothered either of them. Flawless work like always. "I do mean it. I also meant it when I said I'd keep quiet if you did too." Daphne looked unsure as to why he brought it up again. "If you tell my sister or mother then I'll tell them you kissed me."
"It wasn't like that!" Daphne's arms waved out in front of her body. "I was only trying to help!" She stepped back with a flustered look. This was the most disheveled he had ever seen her.
"I'm messing with you. I'll let you go do whatever it is you slimy snakes do in your pastime." Harry said with a chuckle, earning him another punch on the arm. Harry was sure his arm must be a nasty shade of purple by now.
"I take it you're off to bed?" Daphne rubbed her arms awkwardly. The anxious air around her made Harry think she hadn't entirely recovered from what just happened.
"No, I planned on grabbing a bite to eat from the kitchens. I've memorized the patrol routes quite well so I know how to get back without getting caught." Harry realized he said too much when her eyes widened.
"You sneak out at night? How often?" She immediately pressed with a giddy tone in her voice. "I've thought about doing it sometimes but I was sure Professor Snape would somehow know. He always knows. The man has a creepy way of knowing when you lie or did something wrong. Nothing gets past him." Daphne shuddered not at the cold weather but at the thought of standing before the potion's professor as a guilty student.
"If I had Snape as my head of house then you'd find me in bed an hour before curfew every night. That man would have me sent to Azkaban the first chance he gets." Harry said solemnly, his playful demeanor gone. Daphne cracked a smile at his joke.
"I'd say. We Slytherins get preferential treatment but I'm certain it's the same for all houses. Right?" They went inside and found the castle eerily quiet. Only a few students occasionally passed on through to their dorms. Mostly everyone had already gone to their rooms for the night.
"Something like that. I haven't had the chance to see any favoritism in action since Ravenclaws don't need bailouts. We're too smart to get caught in the first place." Harry bantered. They passed the entrance to the dungeons so he assumed she was coming with him to the kitchens.
Daphne scoffed. "I'm almost positive I heard Roger Davis served a four week detention with Professor Flitwick in a single week after he was caught with some Hufflepuff girl in a broom closet. You ravens aren't as smart as you think you are. You'd never hear of a Slytherin doing something so crude." Her composure and elegance had settled back into place.
"Roger is one of our best Quidditch players and I heard he's slated to be captain next year. You can't talk when you have Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle in your house." Daphne struggled to say something that could match the high bar set by those three. "Raven got your tongue?"
Daphne glared at him, but suddenly smirked. "Merlin was in our house. Name a single noteworthy Ravenclaw besides your founder. I'll wait but here's a hint, you can't because there's not a single one."
His comment must have annoyed her more than he initially thought. The venom in her voice was unsettling. "Oh, but I can." Daphne mockingly wagged her finger at him. "It's simple. Me."
"Oh really? I'd have understood if it was your sister who said it but not you. What have you done?" Her comment slid right off his thick skin. That one did sting a little.
Harry shrugged. "Just wait and see. You'll agree with me then."
She was going to respond but paused for a moment. "How did you survive the fall?" Her eyes took him in for the first time. She felt something was different about him. There was a slight glow to his skin but it may have been the lighting, she thought to herself.
Harry, caught off-guard by the question, raced to think of something that made sense before remembering a spell he'd practiced in private. "Arresto Momentum. I was able to cast it in time or I would have gone splat." Daphne winced at the reminder of his near-death experience.
"That's a second year spell. How were you able to cast it on yourself? I didn't think that was possible until fifth year at the very least… must have been some quick thinking." Daphne murmured quietly and with caution, not wanting to trigger bad memories.
"The way you cast any other spell. Using magic. I'm THE Ravenclaw, remember?" Harry quipped. She rolled her eyes but couldn't deny it was an impressive feat of magic. What I did was a whole lot more impressive than that. I was able to uncover the secret of unaided flight! I'm probably the first wizard to ever do so!
"Could you teach me?"
"No."
Author's Note: I was planning to introduce "it" in the next chapter but I decided this chapter needed more substance. This chapter and the last were the toughest to write since I had exams to take. As a consequence, they're not as good as I wanted to make them. Sorry about no crossbreed but I can't have her in every chapter. The reason I used for the Girl-who-lived narrative decision is the same I'll use for giving Harry this power. It's not to make him an OP MC or for a power fantasy but because they'll tie in later.