"So you become an official Wizengamot Lord today, eh?" Ron said as he sat up on his bed.
Harry's eyes momentarily flickered towards him before turning to his mirror once more. He wasn't nervous, not really. He was, however, more conscious than usual about his appearance. For the first time in his life he was annoyed with the state of the wild mop of black hair on his head, annoyed enough to spend the better part of an hour in an attempt to tame it into a presentable state. It was also the only thing bothering him since he bought robes from Twilfitt and Tattings during Christmas break.
"You could ask Lavender for help, you know. If anyone can salvage that mess you call hair, it's her." Ron continued, not the least bit put out by the lack of response from his best friend. "'sides, you look good with the wild hair. I don't know why you try so hard to make it look all... I don't know, ponce-y?"
A snort was heard from Neville's bed, followed by his head popping out of the curtains of the four poster bed. "Does that have to be the first thing I hear when I wake up? Poncy Potter hair?"
"You know what? Fuck this." Harry announced with a trembling eye-lid as he failed - again - to tame his hair, completely ignoring the snickers of his two roommates in the process. "I'll just grab a cuppa from the Great Hall before I go to Dumbledore's office."
"By the way, I wanted to ask," Ron said as he got up from his bed and stepped closer to Harry. "What's with the awfully Slytherin robes?"
"I thought you got over your biassed views," Harry returned with a raised eyebrow before retracting his wand to his holster.
"Just because I accepted them and actually talked with them doesn't mean I trust them mate," the redhead said with a shrug. "You should thank Neville that I'm even talking to them. If it wasn't for his connection to the Greengrasses, I wouldn't give them a word. A snake is a snake, Harry."
"Even your brothers trusted the youngest with a whole secret recipe," Harry returned nonchalantly.
"With a dead recipe. A scrapped project from last year. Not to mention the enchantments placed on it to test the little snake. Not something dangerous, just a simple, modified surveillance charm that informs them of who reads the recipe."
Harry's jaw snapped shut as he mulled over the information. In the corner of his eyes he saw Neville rolling his eyes dramatically. "I guess I can't do anything about that, mate. It's not my place to change your views and opinions and I certainly don't want to put myself in that position. As for the robes," he spread his arms and said with a twirl, "you have to admit that I do look pretty dashing in them."
x
Much to Harry's pleasure, the halls of Hogwarts were relatively empty as he reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.
"Pop Rocks."
The aforementioned gargoyle obediently moved aside after the password was spoken, revealing the ascending staircase that took Harry in front of the closed door of Dumbledore's office.
'What is that obnoxious perfume," Harry thought as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but the voice of the Headmaster cut him off.
"Come in Harry," Dumbledore said as the door opened seemingly on its own, gracing Harry with the sight of an awfully pink cardigan.
'Ah. That explains the vile stench.'
"Good morning, Headmaster. Good morning, Professor Umbridge," Harry greeted without so much as a glance towards the woman he despised. A gesture that didn't stop her from speaking.
"Hem, hem. What are you doing here, Mister Potter? Are you not supposed to get ready for breakfast and classes?" Umbridge asked with her usual, overly sweet tone as she straightened her robes next to the fireplace.
"Ah, yes. Harry here has to attend the Wizengamot meeting today," Dumbledore said before Harry could speak for himself.
"Is that so?" The toad responded with a hint of steel creeping in her voice. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that. A child has no business with the Wizengamot, especially since you do not have any position..."
Umbridge's words trailed off as she noticed an emerald gem materialising on Harry's hand. Her eyes slowly widened as she realised that Harry was wearing the ring of the Lord.
"I'm afraid, Professor, that I do have business in the Wizengamot," Harry responded in a calm manner, causing Dolores to slowly turn red. She didn't respond, however, as she simply marched to the Floo before promptly disappearing. Harry's eyes turned to the Headmaster who was watching with barely concealed amusement.
"Anything you wish to say before we leave, Professor?" Harry asked, seemingly not affected by the encounter with Umbridge.
"Merely that we must expect any and all possibilities. Both of us, unfortunately, are targets of slander from the Ministry and press," Dumbledore returned calmly as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. "Shall we?"
Harry shrugged before stepping inside the fireplace with the Headmaster.
"Ministry of Magic, Atrium"
x
Compared to his first visit to the Ministry, Harry couldn't be bothered to marvel at the grandiosity of the place as he made his way towards the Wizengamot chamber. On the way down, however, he came to a full stop as he saw the door to the Department of Mysteries.
"That, my boy, is a tale for another day," Dumbledore commented with nary a glance towards the boy as he gently pushed him to move along.
"But, Mr. Weasley-"
"This is not the place, nor the time. Too many eyes and ears."
Harry wisely chose to not respond, as he fully understood what the Headmaster meant. His eyes drifted towards a group of men standing just outside the doors to the chambers and he immediately recognized the silvery blonde, flowing hair of Lucius Malfoy. Harry felt a spike of anger inside him, that was squashed by Dumbledore tightening the grip on his shoulder.
"Ahh, the venerable Headmaster and... the boy," Lucius sneered.
"Good day to you, Lord Malfoy, Lord Nott, Lord Yaxley," the Headmaster greeted, completely dismissing Lucius' snide remarks. "I see you are all ready for the meeting today."
"We are. And this is a place where you no longer belong, Dumbledore," Corban Yaxley responded coldly. His eyes turned to Harry. "Much less in the company of a child."
Dumbledore made to respond, but Harry smoothly interjected. "Unfortunately for you, Lord Yaxley, I do belong here. And Professor Dumbledore is here with me."
"I don't see how a Hogwarts student belongs in the Wizengamot," the middle-aged Theseus Nott responded calmly.
A bell suddenly rang from within the chambers signifying the start of the Wizengamot session. Harry calmly smiled as he started walking. "I guess we will find out, Lord Nott."
Leaving behind the trio of men - most notably, a seething Lucius Malfoy - Harry and the Headmaster entered the main Wizengamot chamber. Harry didn't even pause to observe the massive, circular room as he made his way towards the Potter seat located in, what he thought, was the top ring of twenty-eight seats. The only thing he noticed was that his seat was in between House Greengrass' and House Parkinson's and that both of them were empty.
Oblivious to the stares he received from the members of the Wizengamot, the young wizard calmly sat on his seat, which briefly glowed a dim gold light as it recognized the Potter's blood. The Headmaster sat down directly to his left. The left seat of the Head of House was used mostly for spouses, secondary Heirs or guests of the Head of House, while the right seat was reserved exclusively for the Heir Apparent of the House.
"Ah, Lord Potter. I guess this is the session in which you would like to be sworn in?" A vaguely familiar rough voice spoke from his right side. Turning his head, he saw the dark haired Head of House of the Greengrass family, fully dressed in purple Wizengamot robes.
"I already told you, Lord Greengrass, to simply call me Harry," The young wizard responded as he shook hands with his senior.
"Then why do you not call me Cyrus?" The man responded jovially. Then his eyes landed on the figure next to the Boy-Who-Lived. "Good day, Headmaster Dumbledore," he greeted with a fractional incline of head.
"Ah, Cyrus, good day to you. Your daughters are still exceptional students, but I am certain you already know that. I believe young Harry here knows Daphne since they are both Fifth Year students."
Harry's eyebrow twitched in minor annoyance with his Headmaster. The dangerous grin on Lord Greengrass' face didn't help matters. Harry unwillingly blushed slightly. "Uh.. Well, you see-"
"But of course they would know each other, despite the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I believe you are also familiar with my little pug?", a man spoke from the left. Turning to look at him, Harry saw a tall, skinny man with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, also fully dressed in purple Wizengamot robes. Harry almost snorted at the way the man referred to his daughter.
"Ah, Emeric. Harry, this is Emeric Parkinson. Head of House Parkinson." the Headmaster spoke. Before either of them could speak, however, the amplified voice of Cornelius Fudge was heard.
"Griselda, please begin."
After the Minister spoke, Griselda Marchbanks banged her gavel twice before announcing, "As acting Chief Warlock, I hereby call this Wizengamot session to order."
By the time the Chief Warlock finished her announcement, all members took their seats and silence descended upon the chamber. Albus Dumbledore, however, stood up and lit the tip of his wand.
"I will now start roll- Yes, Albus, explain your attendance. Since you no longer have a place in this esteemed body", the annoyed Minister said. Dumbledore was not fazed in the least by the way Fudge addressed him.
"If I'm not mistaken, Cornelius, the induction of a new Lord in the Wizengamot is an urgent business that comes before roll call," Dumbledore said calmly.
"And who, pray tell, is the new Lord in need of a proper induction?"
Seeing his opening, Harry stood up next to Dumbledore. "That would be me, Minister Fudge."
Chatter broke out among the members of the Wizengamot following Harry Potter's statement. It took Madam Marchbanks a couple of bangs of her gavel to restore order.
"That is preposterous and an outright lie, Mister Potter," Fudge responded. "You are a mere child studying for his OWLs."
"I am emancipated, Minister", Harry said smoothly as he made his descent towards the middle platform of the chambers, right in front of the Minister, Senior Undersecretary and Head of DMLE.
"I thought I gave you enough detentions, Mr. Potter. You must not tell lies, much less in front of this esteemed body," Umbridge responded in a condescending tone like she was explaining simple maths to a child.
Harry drowned the spike of anger that surged within him as he remembered the detentions with Umbridge. The plan he shared with Dumbledore was the only reason he didn't reveal her use of a Blood Quill for detentions.
"I am not lying, Madam Umbridge. In fact, Bartemious Crouch Sr., the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic himself approved my magical emancipation, albeit unwillingly, on October 31st of 1994."
"YOU VILE-"
"YOU DARE MANIPULATE MINISTRY OFFICIALS-"
"BLASPHEMY!"
A loud crack, akin to a thunderbolt, was heard across the loud chamber and effectively silenced the protesting Marchbanks cancelled the overpowered Sonorus she used on the gavel and motioned for Fudge to speak.
"There is no chance a fourteen year old boy could trick three different and highly respected-" A snort was heard from Harry, much to the amusement of several members of the Wizengamot but was ignored. "-Ministry officials. There is no explanation for this outcome, boy, you are therefore illegally trying to claim a position which is not yours. Aurors-"
"That is where you are wrong, Minister Fudge. Let me explain what I mean. October 31st, 1994 was the date of the selection for the Triwizard Tournament. I was unwillingly added to the list of champions, making me the fourth. That was what forced my own magic to abide by the rules of the Goblet. One of those rules was that only wizards of age could compete. My, then, legal guardian and Chief Warlock along with multiple Ministry officials accepted my selection. Therefore, I was magically emancipated, in order to compete. I became fully emancipated last month when I claimed my vaults."
By the end of Harry's explanation, Cornelius went from beet red to pasty white. The Wizengamot, shocked to silence as it was, patiently waited for the Minister to speak. A fact, that in his horror, Fudge failed to recognise.
"Minister Fudge, you are stealing valuable time from this body. I urge you to finally speak and stop acting like you have a Dementor in front of you," The stern voice of Augusta Longbottom was heard. A ripple of snorts and giggles was heard as Fudge regained some colour due to the embarrassment.
"Y- Yes... Well, what is it you want from us, Mister Potter?"
"Merely to be sworn in as a member of this esteemed body, like my forefathers before me," Lord Potter didn't bother to wait for Fudge to continue. He turned around to face the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot at large. That was when he noticed the seven seats above the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were completely obscured in darkness of magical nature, so he didn't dwell on it for long.
"Let Magic be my witness and judge. I, Harry James Potter, stand before the Wizengamot and more importantly, Magic herself to claim my rightful place as Lord and Head of House Potter." In accordance to Harry delivering the Lord's Oath of House Potter, the flames held by the torches on the walls of the chamber started dancing. "I hereby swear to uphold any and all laws imposed by the Founders of House Potter, to carry on the will of my ancestors and proudly bear the Crest of my House with honour, lest Magic strike me down or reclaim her gifts from me. So mote it be!"
The moment his Oath was finished, a bright light emitted from his ring and the torches flared to life. The faint cry of a phoenix could be heard, before everything returned to normal. A few moments of complete silence passed before Fudge spoke again.
"You may return your seat... Lord Potter", the Minister stated, with obvious distaste. Harry completely ignored his expression and returned to his seat. Emeric Parkinson completely ignored him as he was frozen into submission by the cold eyes of Lucius Malfoy; not that Harry saw that. Cyrus, on the other hand, shook his hand warmly.
"Congratulations, Lord Potter. Welcome to the Wizengamot, this time formally."
The session continued as usual. Largely irrelevant business - at least in Harry's opinion - was discussed and the young wizard was quickly getting bored. The only thing important, at least to him, was appointing Dumbledore as his proxy to the Potter seat. Slowly, but steadily, the session came to a close.
"I believe that is all we had for today for this esteemed-"
"Hem-Hem."
The Minister froze for a moment and looked with uncertainty towards his Senior Undersecretary. "Yes, Dolores?"
The toad in pink rose from her seat and spread her arms magnanimously. "Dear witches and wizards of this esteemed body. Today, we witnessed something rare in these hallowed grounds , something that has not happened in a long, long time. Yet, I can't help but feel that it was the most unfitting situation for the individual in question. I am talking, of course, of the ascension of Mr. Potter to the status of an emancipated adult and by extension a Lord in this esteemed body."
Silence reigned within the chamber, almost deafening to Harry's ears. He could hear his own blood flow as his heart pumped at a steadily increasing pace, just as his temper flared. He fortified his Occlumency shields, as he patiently watched Dolores' performance. As for the witch in question, her eyes were moving toward each and every member of the Wizengamot in a shrewd manner, as if she was pleading for everyone to believe and follow her words. A look most unfitting on the disgusting witch.
"You see, my esteemed Lords and Ladies, we already know what an... ill-tempered and most certainly ill-educated young man Harry Potter is. Harry Potter is a boy - for that is what he is, just a boy - that was raised under the spotlight for something he did, all the while he cannot understand how it happened. He was raised under the impression that he was some… some sort of a miracle, a wizard powerful beyond belief. You cannot remain in the spotlight indefinitely, however. He is aware of that. Harry Potter lost that spotlight and you all can see him trying to reclaim it. Everything this boy does is an attempt to return to his prior fame. Such as claiming that the long gone Dark Lord has returned; a feeble attempt to turn the attention onto him once more, over-shadowing the tragic death of an exemplary student, which happened during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. There is no Dark Lord on the loose. Those… are...lies."
Cyrus Greengrass was listening to Dolores Umbridge's speech with copious amounts of amusement. He wasn't certain whether the information he gathered on Harry Potter was entirely correct, nor did he know for certain which people had access to that particular information. One thing he was certain of, was that Lord Potter did not grow up under the spotlight. Far from it. He made to voice his opinion privately to the young man next to him, but the moment he turned his head he froze.
Lord Potter was sitting deathly still, as if hit by a Full Body-Bind Curse. His hands did not move, his face looked as if frozen in time; even the rise and fall of his chest was barely noticeable. The only thing that seemed alive and in motion were his eyes. Lord Greengrass felt the hairs on his neck stand on end despite his immaculate Occlumency barriers as he stared at the pair of vivid green vortexes. A colour eerily similar to...
"The Killing Curse." The voice of the venerable Headmaster was heard to Cyrus' ears, barely above a whisper. "I know. I feel the same."
Cyrus slowly turned towards the speaker once more.
"You saw it once more, just earlier today, when he claimed the title of a Lord under dubious circumstances. Why, someone would think he orchestrated the whole event himself to achieve this outcome. Perhaps with some..." her eyes turned momentarily to Albus Dumbledore, "…urging, or help from a higher authority. But I digress and I loathe to waste the valuable time of this body, so I will get to my point. I have been Harry Potter's teacher this year and let me assure you that his performance is less than stellar. He is a highly argumentative and ill-tempered individual that hopes his status will raise him to the top without his own effort. He shows a complete disregard of the rules, long established in the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts, complete disrespect of authority and above all, he is very, very dangerous and irresponsible with his wand work. We witnessed the fruits of his most disappointing upbringing just this Summer when he came in to be tried for using the Patronus Charm in the presence of a Muggle. Hence my suggestion."
Umbridge paused, deliberately, as her eyes roamed across the members of the Wizengamot. The silence she left in her wake was deafening and the tension was set to burst.
"We all know that the Trace was removed from Harry Potter the moment he became emancipated. So I suggest we put Harry Potter under Magical Probation, effective immediately until he graduates from Hogwarts, with Hogwarts being the only place he is allowed to use his wand in."
Umbridge's words were met with silence. Several members – the majority, in fact - of the Wizengamot were trying to process the implications of her suggestion, while the rest were beyond satisfied with the outcome. The spell seemed to break when, surprisingly, Madam Longbottom spoke up.
"That is preposterous. Do you have the slightest idea what you're suggesting, Dolores?" the elder witch bristled. "You want to push a restriction traditionally used on criminals on parole to a Hogwarts student?"
"That isn't even the main concern here," Lord Benjamin Abbot smoothly interjected. "You are attempting to push criminal charges to a Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House; his age and tenure notwithstanding."
"If this happens to a Lord that belongs in our noble ranks, what assurance do we have that the Minister won't attempt to push charges toward another Lord of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Lord Harrison Macmillan continued. His words, however, were the last to be spoken against Umbridge's idea since they achieved their goal of creating a negative sentiment against her.
The vote against her motion passed barely by a vote difference of four votes.
"If I may, Chief Warlock," the silky smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy was heard across the chamber, earning a complete silence once again.
"You may speak, Lord Malfoy."
"I believe I speak for all of us in this chamber, especially for the families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight when I say that we prevented a major slight against our esteemed body. For that, I am forever grateful." Lucius' eyes found Harry's emerald orbs and the ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "What I am not grateful for, however, is how easily Harry Potter evaded punishment yet again. I will not suggest foolish criminal charges against him, for he is just a boy without even the slightest blemish on his public record. No, I will call a vote that concerns the Sacred Twenty-Eight only. I call for punishment on House Potter." Lord Malfoy dramatically paused his speech to gauge the reactions of the Lords of the Wizengamot. With well concealed satisfaction he noted that every single House of the Light faction paled at his words.
"I call for the demotion of House Potter from Noble and Most Ancient to Most Ancient status. In the same motion, I call for the ascension of the Most Ancient House of Bulstrode to Noble and Most Ancient status."
Madam Marchbanks cleared her throat. "On- on what grounds, Lord Malfoy?"
"House Potter is no longer a Pureblood House, since Harry Potter is a Halfblood and the last living Potter. Furthermore, Harry Potter's mediocre performance in Hogwarts and deplorable conduct has disgraced the noble name of the Potters. Lords and Heirs of the Wizengamot, more importantly, the Sacred Twenty-Eight must set an example and provide guidance to the common folk. Harry Potter has acted no better than the common folk. He has disgraced the name of the Sacred Twenty-Eight on multiple occasions. This must not stand. Those are my grounds."
"Any objections?" Minister Fudge asked the body with barely concealed glee.
Madam Marchbanks once again cleared her throat when no one responded. Even she knew that it was pointless to respond. "Votes against the motion set by Lord Malfoy, raise your wands."
Harry's eyes broke eye contact with the elder Malfoy to see the votes. The wands of Madam Longbottom, Lord Abbot, Lord Macmillan, Lord Greengrass and Lord Shacklebolt lit up.
"Votes in favour of the motion set by Lord Malfoy, raise your wands."
Harry already knew the outcome. Five votes against the motion did nothing against the ten Houses that were not present and the twelve members of the Dark Faction voting in favour of his demotion. Suddenly, he felt the Headmaster gripping his shoulder.
"Don't fight it, Harry. You will be above them soon enough," Dumbledore whispered cryptically. The young wizard merely nodded stiffly. In his cold, silent rage he never noticed the Headmaster observing the seven seats above the Twenty-Eight.
"The motion has passed. I hereby declare House Potter a Most Ancient House and House Bulstrode a Noble and Most Ancient House."
x
House Potter disgraced!
The Follies of The Boy-Who-Failed!
By Rita Skeeter
Yesterday, during the delayed Winter Solstice meet of the Wizengamot something monumental happened. Harry Potter, aged 15, stood before the Lords and Ladies of our land to claim the Headship of House Potter. In a shocking turn of events, he succeeded by claiming emancipation through the Goblet of Fire . This reporter can't help but wonder; was everything staged for this outcome?
The victory was short-lived, however, as immediately people started taking action against the boy. Most notably, Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts attempted to enforce a Magical Probation on Harry Potter. His tearful eyes and evident sadness earned the pity of the Wizengamot and they voted against the motion.
No one can escape justice though, as Lucius Malfoy, Lord of House Malfoy proved by passing a motion that demoted the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter to Most Ancient status. Harry Potter has set a new record by disgracing his House through demotion in a mere five hours. Minister Fudge was available…
The Daily Prophet the trio was reading was suddenly flung into the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room where the trio retreated in the aftermath of the morning mail.
"What did you do that for?!" Hermione exclaimed as she lunged towards the burning paper.
"Why in Merlin's saggy-"
"LANGUAGE!"
"-ballsack would I continue reading that drivel? Tearful eyes and sad face?" Harry asked with barely contained anger.
"We could read something useful from comments made-" Hermione tried to reason.
"There is nothing useful in this paper and you know it, 'Mione," Ron sighed from the armchair next to Harry.
Hermione simply responded with a huff as she glared at Harry. "Burning the paper won't help you, you know."
"Reading it won't help me either," Harry bit back before he stood up. Ron promptly followed his example with a curious look. "I want to get some training before the DA meeting."
"We really should take advantage of these two weekends before Valentine's Hogsmeade weekend," Hermione commented airily. Her eyes, along with Ron's, landed on their raven-haired friend.
At first, Harry paid no heed to their stares, but when they didn't stop after five minutes of walking his frustration finally made itself known. He stopped walking abruptly and addressed them.
"Alright, what?"
"Who are you inviting?" Hermione piped up with a smug look when Harry looked at her in confusion.
"Invite where?"
"To Hogsmeade, obviously."
"Why would I invite someone to go with me to Hogsmeade?"
"Because it's Valentine's?" Ron said. "You know, as a date?"
Harry felt a faint blush spread from his neck. "I, uh… Didn't think about it," he admitted sheepishly. Just then, he caught a blonde curtain of hair above Slytherin robes moving at the end of the hallway. A small smile graced his features.
"But you know what? I have someone in mind."
x
Daphne Greengrass yawned in a decidedly not ladylike manner as she tried to open her eyes. Just like every day since her first year in Hogwarts she woke up before everyone else. The fact that it was a Saturday didn't matter to her. A quick Tempus showed that it was 6:30 in the morning; the perfect time to get ready to start the day, at least in her opinion. After stretching her limbs from their night-time stiffness she shot up from the bed to start her morning ritual. A relaxing, freezing-cold shower and a few personal hygiene routines later, the platinum-blonde stood in front of the mirror with a bright smile.
She hummed in a low tone as she picked her outfit for the day, knowing that whatever noise she made wouldn't bother her dorm mates, courtesy of a plethora of Silencing-Charms applied on each bed. After a couple of minutes she realised that, just like every single morning, it was pointless to bother picking outfits; Hogwarts required a specific dress code, after all. She didn't even remember that it was a Hogsmeade weekend; much less that it was Valentine's Weekend. With a sigh she got dressed up for the day and after making sure her appearance was immaculate – as always – she walked out of the dorm.
As usual, only a couple of people were awake and lounging in the Slytherin common room, all of whom were either O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. students. After giving away some short greetings she made her way towards the Great Hall.
Everything was going well in her eyes. Her performance in classes was, as always, near the top of her year and the small study group they held in Slytherin was showing great results and every student participating in it was showing progress in grades across all classes; except DADA.
Her thoughts strayed towards her other study group. While the Slytherin group existed throughout the years, Dumbledore's Army was something new and it was made for the single purpose of studying Defense Against the Dark Arts under the guidance of…
As her thoughts strayed, her steps faltered. Her perfect posture descended to something akin to an Inferi prowling the halls. Her mind was once again on Harry Potter. She also remembered that it was Valentine's Hogsmeade Weekend. What a coincidence.
In her defence, it wasn't the first time that the raven-haired Golden Boy roamed her thoughts. But these days it was harder to think about him; way harder than before. Every time she thought of the Boy-Who-Lived now, she also thought about her father's warnings. Every time she imagined the intense gaze of his emerald eyes, she also thought about what she almost did to him. She was beyond grateful that seemingly nothing bad happened to him in her misguided attempt to teach him Occlumency, but that didn't mean she would act like she did before.
The reality of the matter was that she was afraid. She wanted to keep him safe and sound above all else, and the fact that she narrowly avoided causing damage to his mind scared her.
She thought about the past. How she, unwillingly, started looking at Harry Potter longingly. She never cared about the Boy-Who-Lived moniker, nor about the stories made about him. She was a clever enough girl to know that a three year old, Harry Potter or not, couldn't wrestle a werewolf.
The first time she paid attention to him was during his first ever Quidditch match back in first year. At some point in his chase for the snitch he flew above the Slytherin stands, directly above the First-Years. Directly above her. She had to admit to herself that he looked extremely cool on his broom; his emerald eyes blazing with the single-minded focus of catching the Snitch. While in the air, there was no sight of the shy, malnourished looking boy; in the air, Harry Potter was free and determined. After all these years, her opinion only grew. Now, she wouldn't call him cool when she saw him fly. She would call him hot as all hell. She wouldn't lie to herself as a sixteen year old woman, she knew Harry was attractive and that she was severely attracted to him.
Then came the second year. She wasn't really interested in him, but she always found herself paying attention to the young boy. He seemed to be holding off better than before; more confident, more assured of himself. All for it to come crashing down when he revealed to basically everyone that he was a Parselmouth. Contrary to most people, however, she was extremely interested and awed by the ability. Her own mother, Isabella Greengrass, was a Disciple of Asklepios.
She would never admit it, but she often caught herself wanting to approach the boy during their second year. He always looked lonely to her. She didn't like seeing him lonely. Yet she never made the actual move to approach him.
Third year was relatively quiet compared to the previous one. Still, she often paid attention to him. At that point, she couldn't differentiate between concern, interest or simply attraction. Not that she ever bothered to sit down and attempt to discern which of them was true – or if more than one was true. The thing she would never, ever forget, was seeing him inside Professor Lupin's office, one day before they boarded the Hogwarts express for the Summer Holidays. The memory of Harry proudly casting his fully corporeal Patronus – a magnificent stag – would forever be etched in her memory.
The turning point was actually during Year Four – during the Triwizard Tournament. She always looked at him from the sidelines before that. Every single year.
Tracey always tried to convince her that she actually had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived. Sometimes, she believed it too, but wouldn't ever act on it. She knew of his opinion on Slytherins and cursed Draco Malfoy with all her being for ruining his opinion on them. But during the tournament she finally admitted that she was crushing on him. Badly.
She watched with bated breath as he out-flew – she still couldn't get over the fact that Harry Potter beat a dragon at flying – the Horntail to complete the First Task. After that, she had one of the worst nights of her life in the form of the Yule Ball. She couldn't get over the irrational jealousy she felt when she saw him enter the Great Hall with Parvati Patil of all people but that wasn't her biggest issue; the Durmstrang ape she went with was disgusting beyond all measure and also had the audacity to attempt to touch her inappropriately, despite her numerous denials. Every single thought that night was revolving around how much better her night would be if Potter had invited her to the ball. Then again, Harry probably didn't even know she existed. He probably even had a girlfriend by then.
Then came the Second Task and upon seeing him drag Ronald Weasley to the top her heart fluttered; the appearance of the Weasley boy meant that Harry didn't have a romantic interest to save, just like the Beauxbatons Champion. Her renewed vigour died shortly after when she realised that she wouldn't do anything to chase him in the end, just because it would prove fruitless.
"Good morning," an awfully familiar voice called from somewhere nearby, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned around to see none other than Harry Potter, standing with his back to the side of an alcove as he twirled his wand in his right hand. In one fluid motion he holstered the wand and fell in line with her. "What are you doing out of bed this early?"
"I could ask you the same," she quipped playfully. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his lips twist to a smirk.
"I am used to it. Lately I've been taking advantage of my sleep schedule to train. Now, care to enlighten me?" His emerald eyes turned to look her dead in the eye and he delicately raised an eyebrow. She fought back the urge to bite her lip.
"I like starting the day early. It gives me more time to get ready and I do it in complete silence, which is a plus," she answered honestly.
Harry simply grunted in agreement but didn't comment further. So they simply kept walking in comfortable silence, or at least she thought it was comfortable. She had gotten used to his presence in these last months since she met him. She was happy to be his friend. Well, that wasn't entirely right. She wanted – no, needed more. Yet, she was afraid to try for more, especially during those last weeks. Most importantly, her father was the reason she was scared. Whether she was scared of hurting him or hurting her family simply by association – or both – was anyone's guess. If he tried anything, however...
"Daphne?" Harry's oddly soft voice broke her train of thought – again.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
Daphne tilted her head toward him. His eyes were focused at something ahead of him, while his jaw was oddly clenched. "Go on."
Silence was his response. It looked like he tried to speak, yet he failed. She was fairly amused by that. Somehow she failed to understand the reason behind his obvious discomfort. "Am I supposed to answer the questions of the wind?" She quipped playfully.
The boy simply clicked his tongue in annoyance. His mouth opened – again – and this time it actually made a noise. An odd mixture between a choke and a croak.
Daphne giggled.
"You are not supposed to laugh, you know," he responded sullenly but he still hadn't turned his gaze toward her.
"Why not? Seeing you lose the ability to communicate properly, oh Lord Potter, is something extremely-"
"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Daphne froze.
x
October 1st
Female Slytherin 5th Year Dormitory
"You won't believe what the network brought to my attention today," Tracey announced as she entered the dorm. Daphne positively bristled in annoyance at the interruption of her best friend.
"Can't you see me trying to write the Merlin-forsaken Potions essay, Trace? Please, don't interrupt me!" She half-yelled. It was obvious that she was stressed, her hair was dishevelled and she had dark bags under her eyes; a visage that no one except from Tracey and her cousin Blaise would witness. Potions wasn't her strongest class. Far from it.
"Oh but this is important. I dare say, more important than your essay," Tracey responded jovially as she took the parchment away from Daphne, completely ignoring the death glare shot her way. "I found a way for you to approach Potter."
Daphne's glare immediately gave way to a shocked expression, yet she didn't speak. Tracey took it as approval to continue speaking.
"They are organising some sort of group to teach themselves Defence Against the Dark Arts, and get this; Potter himself is supposed to be teaching it. From what I've gathered, Granger is gathering recruits for their little group. She is also probably the one who orchestrated it, but that's besides the point." Tracey finished explaining with an expectant look towards Daphne. Her face slowly fell as Daphne's eyebrow slowly rose.
"And?" She drawled.
"Can't you see Daphne? That's your in. That's your chance to finally approach Potter and confess your undying love or some nonsense like that." Tracey huffed.
"First of all, there is no such thing as undying love towards Har- Potter. I am merely mildly interested-" Daphne started coolly, her faint blush betraying her actual thoughts on the matter but Tracey cut her off.
"Yes, yes, you can be in denial later. But stick to the plot, please."
"Even if this was a chance to get to know him properly, do you honestly believe that they will let us in? Do you happen to forget that we are Slytherins?"
Tracey simply smirked.
"They already have. Well, Granger at least, even though reluctantly. Blaise approached her earlier today and managed to convince her to accept us."
Daphne's breath froze before she let it out. Would she actually get the chance to speak to him without getting told off? Without getting chased away or cursed? She had tried a couple of times before. She got either chased off by other Gryffs and once she earned a glare from a 13 year old Harry Potter when she tried to ask him for help in Charms during Third Year. Her mind however, focused on something else.
"You went and did all of that behind my back?"
"Obviously? I mean, if you knew beforehand you'd just stop us from approaching them because there was a high chance of us getting rejected." The brunette raised her hand in a calming gesture before continuing. "And before you ask, no, I didn't tell Blaise why I actually wanted us to join their group. He thinks that we join them to salvage our poor education." Tracey smirked as she ended her explanation.
Daphne simply stood there, completely frozen. Her best friend didn't bother to wait for a reaction as she turned around to exit the dorm. She grabbed the door knob, but didn't open the door. She turned her head around to look at the blonde.
"Try not to scare him too much with your typical attitude. Just try to be yourself, you know?"
"I can't just approach him like some groupie and confess that I've been crushing on him for a whole year!" Daphne retorted with a voice laced with a certain amount of fear.
"I didn't say that. I just said that you shouldn't scare him. On that note, we should also refrain from telling them how we know of their group. We don't want them to discover the Devil's Snare, do we?"
Daphne simply stayed silent. Tracey smirked once more.
"Just be yourself, girl. Who knows, you may even get him to invite you to Hogsmeade in February."
x
"Daphne? Did you hear me?" Harry asked with some amount of concern as he stopped several steps ahead of him.
She never noticed that she stopped walking. Her sapphire eyes, unfocused as they were, tried to focus on his. "W- what?" She asked dumbly.
"I said, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Daphne's mind reeled. Tracey said that she might have a chance; the fact that she didn't believe her for a single moment was not important anymore.
Harry Potter asked her on a date. A proper date.
She often imagined herself in this position. She made multiple scenarios. She often wished she'd get the chance. Yet she never expected herself to act like a brainless witch in that scenario. Morgana, she never expected to be in that position in the first place.
She wasn't a crazy groupie. She wasn't a fanatic of 'The Boy-Who-Lived'. She wasn't obsessed with him, and she certainly wasn't in love with him. But she did know that she had a crush on him. She had a crush on the raven-haired boy that she observed from the sidelines, not on the rumours and myths and lies made about him. Of course, she'd create wistful fantasies in her head revolving around her crush; all teenage boys and girls did. Maybe it wouldn't work out if she ever got the chance, but that was a chance she was willing to take.
Now, she had her chance. All manner of thoughts swarmed her head. From the most positive to the most negative; there were negatives in this situation, after all. Two sides clashed in her head; the critical, calculating and logical Daphne clashed with the impulsive, emotional Daphne. Despite the clash, however, both sides wanted the same thing, in the end.
Daphne wanted this, she wanted the chance.
But Daphne panicked. Panicked Daphne didn't mean reasonable Daphne.
Panicked Daphne made no sense sometimes, as Tracey could probably attest.
"No."
Harry blinked.
Daphne blanked.