Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Astoria knew something was very wrong. Her sister had earned the 'Ice Queen' nickname by being impossible to read, even under duress. That had been shattered within the last couple of hours, and emotions vividly played across Daphne's face.
When the screen faded to black, Astoria saw the haunted look Daphne wore and knew there was no faking it. When Daphne moved to the Slytherin table, Astoria stood to go alongside her, but halted at the headshake from her sister. Seeing Daphne suddenly scream, then collapse, snapped any animosity toward her older sister.
Unfortunately, her body was also under duress from the night's events, and her sudden exertion caused another coughing fit. Astoria was confused and concerned. Her sister was hurting, badly. While a large part of her felt she deserved every single bit of the pain and hurt, a smaller part was becoming very alert to the claim Daphne didn't remember things the way Harry did.
Astoria arrived at Daphne's side just as the first cough exploded from her. She felt like her lungs were being torn as she hacked, doubling over in pain. Blood splattered the ground and she swooned.
Shit! Astoria thought before she collapsed, her body convulsing.
Daphne slowly returned to the waking world, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her head.
"Step away please!" Daphne heard someone yell, and a loud bang!, like a cannon blast, echoed in the great hall.
"Daph!" A voice that belonged to Tori called weakly. "Daph!"
She heard a wet cough, and something splatter on the ground.
Daphne groaned.
"Sweet Morgana, Albus!" Pomfrey's voice shouted. "Clear the area! I can't work with everyone clamoring around!"
Another wet cough sounded.
"What happened to Daphne?" It had to be Tracey asking. She sounded worried.
"Minerva, Severus, Pomona, and Filius please get everyone back to their seats," Dumbledore commanded.
Daphne forced her eyes open at the sound of the four professors demanding order. The room was spinning still, and she had a dull ache in the front of her skull. She whimpered and tried to curl into a ball.
"Don't move, Daphne." Pomfrey soothed from far away. "I have to tend to your sister."
Daphne connected the coughing to Astoria.
A wet cloth found its way to her forehead. It felt nice. She tried to focus her eyes, to make the room stop spinning. Suddenly, a pair of sharp blue eyes and a silver beard appeared in her vision. The headmaster spun around and around. Daphne giggled giddily. Madam Pomfrey appeared by her side.
"Drink this," she heard Madam Pomfrey insist. A potion was pressed to her lips and she obeyed, uncaring that most of it spilled down the sides of her face. She saw Dumbledore wave his wand as he continued to spin. Slowly, the room stopped turning and she realized her head was propped on Tracey's lap.
The blue eyes of the headmaster twinkled, and Daphne was barely able to turn to her side. Daphne felt Tracey grab her hair and hold it out of the way as she retched on the ground. Once done, Daphne turned away from the mess and started sobbing pitifully. The pain in her head had receded somewhat with the potion.
"Astoria, you shouldn't be moving!" Madam Pomfrey scolded.
"That is my sister!" Astoria snarled defiantly.
Daphne suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her and pull her into an embrace. A hand rubbed her back while another rubbed her head soothingly. Daphne hiccupped with the force of the sobs, feeling as if she was being torn apart.
"Someone really fucked with your head, didn't they, Daph?" Astoria asked hoarsely.
She nodded and sobbed harder. It took several minutes for Daphne to calm down enough to be able to converse.
"I don't remember any of that," Daphne sniffled, her throat raw. She took a drink from a cup of water Madam Pomfrey brought over. "As far as I know, I never left the Express my second year."
"I can vouch for that," Tracey added. "We share a compartment every year. Daphne never left the second year."
Dumbledore frowned. He looked old and tired.
"Polyjuice?" Severus questioned, having come back to check on his student.
"Do you remember Daphne drinking anything?" Astoria questioned Tracey.
The brunette sighed heavily. "Not really. But it is a long trip, so I'm sure she did at some point."
"The symptoms Daphne is experiencing correspond to cases I've read on memory magic exposure," Madam Pomfrey informed softly. "I'm not a Mind Healer, but Daphne needs to go to St. Mungos as soon as she can."
"Then how do you explain me?" Tracey protested. "I remember the same thing she does."
"A mystery we must unravel," Dumbledore interjected. "However, now is not the time. Poppy, please keep an eye on these two."
"Are you sure you cannot break whatever Potter has done to seal us in here?" Snape questioned in his silky voice.
"No, Severus," Dumbledore replied in a voice that sounded amused. "It would seem Harry has truly taken control of the castle and its wards. I cannot free us from this room at this time."
McGonagall conjured a bed large enough for the sisters before levitating it to the corner by the staff table. Despite their combined protests, Madam Pomfrey forced the two to lie down and rest, insisting their bodies needed it. As the staff returned to their table, the screen flickered and began showing Harry entering the great hall for the second year opening feast.
Astoria looked to her right to see Daphne staring blankly ahead. She looked haggard and was breathing erratically.
"Daph?" Astoria whispered.
Obviously, I had feelings for him, Daphne thought. I was even comfortable enough to fall asleep on his shoulder.
"Daph."
His memory is backed by the D.O.M…. That would mean my memory is wrong, right?
"Daphne."
But what about Tracey? Is her memory wrong too? Why is she not reacting like me if so?
"Daffy!"
"Don't call me that!" Daphne snapped.
Astoria snorted. "Glad to know you're still in there."
Daphne closed her eyes wearily. "What do you want, Tori?"
She flinched as Astoria grabbed her hand, refusing to let go.
"We're going to figure this out, Daph."
"We?" Daphne scoffed.
"Yes, we," Astoria said firmly.
"There is no we, Tori," Daphne said. "You were right. He did love me. And he went through hell because of me."
"But you obviously liked him back," Astoria pointed at the screen. Harry was meeting Lockhart for the first time.
Daphne shrugged. "All I have is regret now, Tori. Regret for what I said and did to him. Regret for not being able to remember those moments which clearly endeared us to each other."
"Harry is a forgiving person…" Astoria trailed off as Daphne began to laugh mockingly. It sounded wrong.
"I didn't figure you to be a girl who read muggle romance novels, Tori."
Astoria frowned and opened her mouth to retort.
"You weren't there," Daphne shook her head, still chuckling miserably. "I broke him, Tori. I saw it in his eyes. Whatever this is," she waved at the screen, "I don't know. But I can assure you that he's not going to waltz in here once it's all done, forgive me, and snog me senseless."
"And yet he bought you these," Astoria countered, shaking the charm bracelet on her wrist at Daphne.
The bracelet Harry had bought that first Christmas for Daphne.
"Six," Daphne nodded. "Six charms. One for each birthday and Christmas, the last was for my fourteenth birthday."
Astoria paused. "He didn't get you one for that Christmas?"
Daphne gave her a watery smile. "I was particularly bitchy our fourth year."
"Why did you give this to me?" Astoria pointed at the bracelet.
"Father."
"Is he really that bad, Daph?" Astoria asked, disbelief prevalent in her voice.
"He is strict," Daphne shrugged. "To you, not so much. He doesn't push you because of your blood curse. When I got that first gift, I knew father would be cross with me. But I didn't want to get rid of it. Giving it to you was my way of preserving the gift without facing father's ire."
Daphne huffed and continued, "And then the charms kept coming. By the end of third year, I was fed up with them. I had rejected his affections, and yet he persisted. It was annoying, and dangerous, and I hated him for it."
"But you clearly liked him!" Astoria groaned.
"I know that now!" Daphne half-shouted. "Don't you get it?! The two memories we've seen so far that would have impacted my feelings toward him I don't have in here!" She pointed at her head.
"Oh." Astoria said, subdued.
"I don't want to talk anymore, Tori," Daphne grumbled when her sister went to continue speaking.
Astoria sighed and nodded before leaning back into her pillows and turning her attention back to the screen which now read September 11, 1992.
Harry was on his way to Professor Flitwick's office to continue his dueling lessons. The Head of Ravenclaw had informed Harry at the opening feast that he would need to have a compelling argument as to why Harry felt he needed such lessons this year.
As he walked, Harry tried, and failed, to stifle the groan that came from the soreness in his legs and arms. He had continued his training regimen as soon as he'd returned to Hogwarts, but his body stubbornly refused to yield to the new daily routine. Apparently, his body preferred the forced inactivity over summer due to living with the Dursley's.
In addition to the exercise, Harry had once more renewed his nightly practice sessions with abandon. Three factors contributed to the intensity Harry now demonstrated every night: Daphne and their growing, uh, friendship. The ease with which 'Quildemort' had batted aside all of Harry's spells last year, and the creepy, crawly, feeling he got whenever Professor Lockhart was near.
Harry couldn't quite place it, but the obvious fraud unnerved him greatly and he still couldn't articulate why. Earlier in the week, Harry had sworn he'd seen Lockhart staring at him with an almost hungry gaze. When he met the man's eyes, however, the look was gone, replaced by that infuriating smile. Harry wanted nothing more than to approach Daphne and ask if she felt the same, but had been unable to speak to her since term started.
Speaking of Daphne, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find them exchanging secret smiles and looks when in class or passing in the halls. It warmed Harry every time it occurred, and drove him to push harder during his training.
How I wish we could walk side by side down the halls, Harry thought longingly.
He arrived outside of Flitwick's office and knocked; the door opened, and he let himself in to find the half-Goblin sitting atop a raised chair behind his desk, grading papers.
"Mister Potter!" Flitwick greeted, setting down his quill and folding his hands atop his desk. "I take it you are here to discuss resuming our weekly sessions?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry took a seat and nodded.
"Then I must insist you give me a valid reason," Flitwick replied. "It would not do for others to perceive you receiving special attention."
Harry sighed. He wasn't sure how to convince his professor.
"And don't think your nightly sessions have gone unnoticed," Flitwick warned. "I have half a mind to put you in detention for the next month seeing as how you've broken curfew just about every night this week."
Harry stiffened. Not good.
"Therefore, I would encourage you to give sufficient explanation to your actions and intentions, Harry."
Now what? Do I tell him the truth? Will he even believe me? Somehow, I don't think telling him I want to protect Daphne is going to get me any leeway.
"Professor," Harry began slowly. "Were you informed of what happened last year with Professor Quirrell?"
Flitwick leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "No, Mister Potter."
Harry took a deep breath and began explaining everything about his adventures last year. He didn't want to. Dumbledore had instructed him, for some reason, not to. But he needed Flitwick's teachings if he wanted to reach his goals. When he finished explaining the final encounter, he felt completely drained. His skin had taken a pallid color.
"He batted away every spell I cast, including the third-year spell you taught me, as if they were nothing," Harry whispered. "He was toying with me. I was no threat to him. For some reason, he knew he couldn't touch me."
Harry looked up with deadened eyes. "I should be dead, Professor. Voldemort mentioned his body was too weak. I think that's why he couldn't use the killing curse on me."
He held up his hands, fingertips facing Flitwick. "Professor Dumbledore says my mother's sacrifice protects me. It allowed me to turn Voldemort to ash." His hands spasmed suddenly, and he clenched them, forcing them to remain still.
Flitwick looked at him sadly.
"Sorry," Harry winced. "Sometimes I still twitch from the encounter. Madam Pomfrey says the aftereffects of the Cruciatus can last months."
Harry sat up straighter. "That's why I need these lessons, Professor. Voldemort will come for me again, I'm sure of it. I need to be able to defend myself. I know it will take decades for me to ever get to where he is, but if I don't start somewhere, I'll never arrive. I understand if you feel it unwise to teach me. But I won't stop, even if you assign me detentions. I'll find a way to keep practicing and learning."
He sighed and sat back, his sudden burst of courage expended. "But it would be much easier if you helped me, Sir."
"Very well," Flitwick said after a few minutes of silent contemplation. "We will continue our lessons. Three times a week, I think."
Harry looked up, surprised and hopeful. "T-that sounds wonderful, Professor."
"Monday, Wednesday and Friday," Flitwick nodded with a small smile. "You are an impressive young man, Mister Potter. I believe both your mother and father would be extremely proud of you, if they were still with us."
Harry flushed with pride at the compliment.
"Regarding your nightly excursions to the third floor classroom," Flitwick continued and Harry felt a sense of foreboding. The half-Goblin paused dramatically for a moment. "Don't get caught."
Harry sagged into his chair with relief. "Thank you, Professor. I won't."
"I believe it would be wise for us to focus on grade three spells for our sessions," Flitwick continued. "You can learn grade two spells in classes this year. I take it you need a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3?"
Harry shook his head. "No, Sir. I have a copy in my possession."
Flitwick quirked an eyebrow. "You do?"
"And Grade 4, Sir."
"May I ask why?"
"I like to read ahead, Professor. At the end of last year, I was able to cast many of the spells from Grade 2, even though I didn't know it until I bought the textbook."
Flitwick looked impressed. "Have you bought other texts, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir. I have two books on Occlumency from Professor Dumbledore, the third year Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Magical Creatures books as well as last year's DADA book."
He purposely left out the Legillimency book, not wanting to admit he'd taken it from the restricted section.
"I daresay you should have been a Ravenclaw," Flitwick chuckled.
"The hat thought about it," Harry shrugged, missing Flitwick's look of surprise. "It said I had traits of all four houses, but felt I was more fit for Gryffindor or Slytherin. It really wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I told it no because of Malfoy."
"And it listened to you?" Flitwick questioned in awe. He'd never heard of the hat taking suggestions.
"After I told it I wanted to make friends," Harry nodded. "It seemed to agree I would be hard-pressed to do so in Slytherin."
Flitwick frowned. "And have you many friends in Gryffindor, Harry?"
Harry was silent for a couple minutes. "Not really," he admitted softly. "I really only consider myself to have one friend right now."
"Do you understand the books you mentioned earlier?" Flitwick decided to change subjects.
"I've haven't started any of the elective books yet," Harry informed. "I've been reading the DADA book this week."
Flitwick nodded, "Should you have questions, please do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Professor." Harry stood to leave. "I'll see you Monday, then."
"I look forward to it, Mister Potter," Flitwick smiled.
As the memory faded, Professor Flitwick forced himself to remain impassive. Ever since this began, the Head of Ravenclaw had been analyzing every word and memory, building a hypothesis he was now rather convinced of. The fact he had no recollection of the memory Harry had just shown only confirmed his ruminations.
Curious, Flitwick thought. Very curious. It would seem I too have suffered a memory alteration much like Daphne Greengrass and, I suspect, Tracey Davis. I must be careful to not force myself to attempt to remember what has been obliviated. Any reaction like Miss Greengrass would cause a panic, and I am now convinced Harry has a motive for his presentation considering this development. Poppy has already confirmed Miss Greengrass is suffering backlash from memory tampering, but I am struggling to understand why Albus would bother altering her memory.
Flitwick looked over to McGonagall, whose lips were drawn into a thin line to hide her displeasure. Filius had worked with Minerva long enough to know that her mind was currently racing. She glanced to him briefly, catching his eye, and imperceptibly nodded.
So, Minerva has caught on as well. Interesting. I wonder if she is also debating if her memory was altered. Albus has been busy it would seem. But why?
Flitwick exhaled and closed his eyes, focusing on what he'd learned so far.
Croaker gave the key. Lord Potter-Black. Surely, my peers have caught this, including Albus. Harry has been emancipated. He is a Lord of two ancient and noble houses. Therefore, it is safe to assume that we are witnessing a trial. Harry is hiding this behind the obvious romantic interest in Miss Greengrass.
He opened his eyes and looked over to the Greengrass sisters. Both looked worn-out.
Poor girls. I never took Harry to be a vindictive person, based on my sessions with him, so I will salute the Slytherin move he has employed by making Daphne the scapegoat to distract from the evidence against the guilty party's being displayed.
Flitwick took a drink of water, still lost in thought.
Yes, Albus and Hagrid both knew about Peter Pettigrew being the Secret Keeper, as evidenced by the memory. Harry has already said Sirius is dead, so the revelation is directed toward his testimony regarding events after the third task and the resurrection of Voldemort. Harry was very specific in describing the resurrection ritual, and how Pettigrew cut off his own hand. Clearly, Harry wants it known that Albus knew Sirius was innocent and allowed the poor man to suffer in Azkaban for years.
Flitwick noted Dumbledore was currently leaning forward on his elbows, his hands steepled, thinking.
With the Ministry burying its head in the sand, Harry could never have aired this through standard outlets like interviews or a formal trial. The Wizenmagot is too corrupt, and Fudge is firmly in Lucius's pocket. No. This is a much better ploy. It also shows Croaker and the Department of Mysteries have declared their side. With the D.O.M. backing Harry, the evidence we are witnessing is irrefutable. Additionally, Harry has ensured that the light, neutral and dark factions are being shown the same memory at the same time through their children. The various reporters here, due to his disappearance, is a master stroke. Harry will simultaneously validate his claims on Voldemort's resurrection as well as indict those who are complicit in crimes against the now Lord Potter-Black.
The half-Goblin frowned.
But why did Albus alter my memory? I would have gone to him or Minerva regarding what Harry told me. Based on Minerva's reaction just now, I went to her first. Did Albus obliviate us both the moment we confronted him? Why? Hmm… The only logical explanation is the revelation that Voldemort was not destroyed as we have believed. Obviously, dark magic is at play here. I find myself at a loss for how Voldemort survived his encounter with Harry as a baby. Albus clearly thought it dangerous enough we knew to take measures to remove our memory of Harry telling myself about his experiences with Quirrell.
Flitwick stole a glance back to McGonagall, who once again caught his eye and slightly shook her head, her eyebrows narrowing.
So, we should bide our time. I agree with Minerva. It does neither of us any good to confront Albus at this time. I doubt we could do much to apprehend him anyways. No, Harry has this in hand. Albus has already admitted as much with confirming Harry has control of Hogwarts and its wards. That is a separate mystery to unravel. Although I suspect Harry will reveal how in time.
The screen flashed October 31, 1992. Harry was walking away from the great hall under his invisibility cloak. He didn't want to be involved in a celebration on the day he became an orphan.
Why the hell do they celebrate today? Harry thought bitterly. My parents both gave their lives for mine today. That's not something you celebrate.
Harry was lost in his thoughts, wandering aimlessly, when he heard something that made his skin crawl.
Rip. Kill. Tear.
The voice was moving away from him and sounded vaguely familiar, as if he'd heard it before. Thoughts of Voldemort flashed through Harry's mind, and he broke into a run, desperately trying to follow the voice. He arrived on the second floor outside of a girl's bathroom, pausing when he heard a splashing sound. He looked down to see he was in standing water. Painted on the wall, in what appeared to be blood, was a message reading: THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Hanging from a nearby torch bracket was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. Harry's blood froze. He remembered reading about the Chamber's myth in Hogwarts: A History.The sound of people approaching caused Harry to turn and run. He cleared the stairs leading to the first floor and rounded a corner, colliding solidly with someone who yelped. Harry groaned, forgetting he was still invisible, and attempted to disentangle from the person. He heard a familiar voice right as the smell of strawberries and lemons hit him.
"Harry?" Daphne questioned.
The sound of Daphne's voice shook Harry from his momentary stupor. Merlin, did he wish he could interact with her normally. Harry lowered his hood and staggered to his feet, helping Daphne to hers.
"What are you- "
She was cut off as Harry grabbed her hand and pulled, dragging her into a nearby classroom and shutting the door. He waved his wand, locking the door and putting up a privacy ward.
I have to tell her. Based on the message, the Chamber is real. It's open. That means Slytherin's monster is going to purge the school. And anyone with a cursory review of history knows that the 'Enemies of the Heir' are non-purebloods.
"Harry?" Daphne questioned tentatively.
"Sorry," he rubbed his forehead and began pacing nervously, only stopping when Daphne reached out and grabbed his hand.
"What's wrong?" She asked gently when he looked at her.
Harry started shaking. "Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?"
Daphne shook her head.
"It's mentioned in Hogwarts: A History," Harry informed. "A secret chamber Salazar Slytherin built that could only be opened by his heir. Supposedly, it contains a monster that only the Heir of Slytherin can control and that, once released, would purge the school of muggle-borns."
Daphne was confused and it showed. "What does this have to do with you wandering around with your cloak?"
"I don't like Halloween, Daphne," Harry sighed softly. "Everyone celebrates the day my parents died, and I became an orphan. It doesn't feel right to me."
He felt Daphne pull him forward and embrace him. He didn't resist or flinch. He liked being close to Daphne. He inhaled as his nose touched her hair, breathing in her wonderful shampoo. The hug didn't last long enough, in Harry's opinion, but he didn't protest when she pulled away.
"You shouldn't be ashamed of that feeling, Harry," Daphne replied. "There's no reason for you to celebrate today if you don't want to."
"Thanks," Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. "I was avoiding the feast by wandering the halls when I heard a voice saying it wanted to kill and tear. I followed it up to the second floor, since it was moving away from me, and came across Mrs. Norris hanging from a torch and a message in blood regarding the Chamber being opened."
Daphne gasped and put her hands to her mouth in horror.
"It's going to get bad, Daphne," Harry whispered. "I was trying to get away from there. Thank Merlin I was invisible. There's no telling what would have happened had I been found at that scene."
Daphne swallowed and nodded; her eyes wide.
"You know I'm a half-blood," Harry reminded her.
"You'll have to be careful, Harry," Daphne said. "You'll be targeted if what you've learned is correct."
He nodded. "I know you should be safe, being a pureblood; but I want you to be careful also."
Daphne smiled at Harry and pulled him in for another hug. "You're sweet," she whispered before kissing him on the cheek. Harry stood there dumbfounded and flushed. Daphne also had a heavy blush, but still smiled at him.
Harry recovered and shook his head. "Uh, right," he began. "I'll head out then. See you, Daphne."
"Bye, Harry," Daphne waved.
Harry dispelled the charm and ward he'd placed on the door, drew his hood up, and vanished.
The screen faded and Astoria turned to Daphne, the question in her eyes. Daphne sighed.
"I don't remember that, Tori," she gestured at the screen. "Nor am I going to try and search my mind. I'm finding that when I try and force myself to remember I feel like my head is going to explode and pass out."
Astoria frowned. "But who would've messed with your head, Daph? And why?"
That's the million-galleon question, Daphne thought. Why? The obvious answer would be to hurt Harry. By denying me these memories, I've viewed his advances in quite a different way. It's obvious I have, or had, attraction to him, based on what I'm seeing.
"I'm not sure," Daphne whispered to her sister. "When all of this is done, though, I'm going straight to a Mind Healer to get help. I have to know what's real. Hopefully, I'll also be able to find out who changed my memories."
Astoria looked pensive.
"What?" Daphne questioned.
Astoria frowned. "Listen, Daph. I know you were a bitch to Harry. And I know you blame yourself for all of this. But this isn't Harry. I got to know him very well."
She turned to look her older sister in the eye.
"He's the brother I never had. I love him," Astoria said simply. "Once you get to know him, it's hard not to. Granted, this all seems quite vindictive." She gestured around the great hall. "One thing I know about Harry, though, is he is hopelessly in love with you. Disgustingly so. Despite some of the things you did."
She held up her hand when Daphne went to protest.
"What I'm trying to say, Daph, is that while this may seem to be all about you, that's not Harry. Don't flatter yourself. He wouldn't go through all of this to hurt you. That's not who he is."
Daphne scoffed. "You've only known him for two years, Tori."
"And you've known him, the real him, for less," Astoria countered. "You have these wonderful moments that you can't remember." She pointed at the screen. "But I spent every day with him outside of holidays for two years. I know Harry. What the Sorting Hat said was one hundred percent accurate. He should have been a Slytherin."
Astoria shook her head. "There's something deeper here that Harry wants us to see. There's a reason for all of this. Why else would he tell me to hang on? That it was all going to be okay?"
"Did Harry ever tell you what happened with Cedric?" Daphne questioned softly.
Astoria shook her head. "You know I had an episode with my blood curse when he came back as beat up as he did. I didn't see Harry until we got on the Express this year."
"Do you think it has something to do with the Ministry and how they've been attacking him and Dumbledore?" Daphne asked.
"You mean regarding You-Know-Who?" Astoria thought for a moment. "He does appear to be showing us each year. Maybe he'll also show what happened during the third task? It's a pity Umbridge isn't here for this. Thank Morgana she's being tried for using blood quills as a form of punishment. Did you see the scars on Harry's hand earlier?"
Daphne visibly paled and shivered. "You should've seen what he did to that woman."
"All we've heard are rumors each more ridiculous than the next." Astoria said. "Everyone has a differing story on what happened. Even the people who were in the class can't seem to tell the same story. What happened, Daph? You were there. Is it true that she wet herself?"
Daphne nodded. "You would have released your bladder too. Anyone would have. He snapped her wand like a twig and shoved each end through her palms, anchoring her to the stone wall."
Astoria's eyes widened.
"He was speaking Parseltongue as much as English," Daphne continued. "I have no idea what spell he used, but it burrowed those wand pieces through the stone without resistance. Umbridge screamed like a banshee until he silenced her."
Both sisters shuddered.
"Um," Astoria swallowed. "There's a really hush-hush rumor, that most of the castle agrees is true, but no one wants to say…"
Daphne gulped. "You mean about what he summoned?"
Astoria nodded, staring at Daphne intently.
"You know, I remember that house-elf, Dobby," Daphne admitted. "But not for anything that happened before this year. Harry summoned Dobby first and told him to fetch 'Sasha'."
"Sasha?" Astoria scrunched her nose in confusion.
"That elf, Dobby," Daphne ignored her little sister. "He popped away and came back with a…"
She shivered.
"Daph?"
"With a basilisk."
Astoria blinked. "What?"
November 7, 1992, flashed across the screen and Harry was lying in a bed in the hospital wing. The bones in his left arm had been vanished by the git Lockhart and now he was waiting for the Skele-Gro to do its job. He hardly felt it outside of the tingling. He was lying awake, when a repentant Dobby appeared, his hands in bandages.
"You ironed your hands," Harry noted.
"Yes and Dobby will iron his feet tonight after what he has done," the house-elf admitted.
"You didn't vanish my bones, Dobby," Harry sighed.
"No, Sir, but Dobby did enchant the Bludger to chase the Great Harry Potter."
"You what?!" Harry said in a barely restrained shout. He started thrashing in the bed to reach the Elf so he could strangle him. "Are you trying to get me killed?!"
"Oh, no, Sir!" Dobby cried, stepping back and holding both his ears. "Dobby only wanted to seriously injure or maim the Great Harry Potter. Never kill!"
"Ugh!" Harry cried in exasperation. "Why, Dobby?!"
"If Harry Potter's injuries forced him to leave Hogwarts, then he could be safe," Dobby explained as if it made all the sense in the world.
"Dobby," Harry said with carefully controlled outrage. "Please stop trying to save me. I'm not going anywhere. Hogwarts is my home."
Dobby went to protest but snapped away when the hospital wing door opened and Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey entered with someone levitating behind them."
"Put him on the bed over there," Pomfrey said quietly.
"Petrified," McGonagall whispered. "Do you think he took a picture of the attacker?"
There was a soft click, and the acrid smell of smoke and melted plastic filled the room.
"What does this mean, Albus?" McGonagall questioned.
"It means, Minerva, that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again."
Again? Harry thought. This has happened before?
"The mandrakes won't be ready for quite some time," Pomfrey sighed. "I'll make sure he is as comfortable as can be."
The three departed to speak further. Dobby reappeared once they'd gone.
"Dobby," Harry whispered hurriedly. "When was the Chamber of Secrets last opened?"
Dobby looked at Harry wide-eyed while shaking his head. "Must not say!"
"Please, Dobby," Harry pleaded. "This is important!"
"Fifty years ago," Dobby whined, and then began beating his head on the floor. "Bad Dobby!"
Harry let him get it out of his system.
"Thanks, Dobby," he closed his eyes to sleep.
"The Great Harry Potter will not leave the school?" Dobby questioned defeatedly.
"Not a chance," Harry muttered before finally zonking out.
"Then Dobby will do what he must, Sir," the elf replied, snapping his fingers.
November 8, 1992, showed on the screen. Harry found himself incredibly comfortable, which was odd because the hospital beds were anything but. In fact, Harry was convinced he'd get better rest on a slab of granite than the hospital wing beds. Therefore, his brain jarred him out of his restful slumber when it realized that hospital bed does not equal good sleep; and he was getting fantastic sleep.
He opened his eyes slowly and found he could move his left arm, something he was extremely grateful for. Granted, it was a bit rigid and tingled a bit, but he was thankful his bones appeared to be in working order. The room was rather dark. Odd, considering there were windows next to every bed to let the morning light in. The window he looked through shocked him fully awake, because instead of seeing the morning sky, he saw a greenish hued water.
What in Merlin's name? Harry thought.
A few low-burning gas lamps lit the area. He looked around and noted he was in his dorm.
No. Wait. Not my dorm. Or at least, not my bed. My window is on the right, not my left. Also, the curtains on my four-poster are red and gold, not green and silver.
Harry's eyes widened.
Green and silver.
He vaguely remembered Dobby making a parting quip before he fell asleep.
Oh shit.
A gentle snoring came from his right. He'd heard that snore once before.
Oh fuck. I am SO DEAD!
And, of course, the smell of strawberries and lemons assaulted his nose.
I'm going to murder that little imp, Harry swore. The next time I see him, he's dead. I take back what I said about Christmas! He's getting hexes and curses for Christmas! How dare he do this to me! Daphne is going to slaughter me! All they'll find are chunks on the wall when she's done with me!
Daphne shifted and draped an arm and leg around Harry, snuggling into him.
But what a way to go! Harry thought giddily. No! Stop it! Bad Harry! I need to escape!
The conundrum for Harry was that his wand was on the nightstand to his left, slightly above his current position on the bed. Daphne had a firm grip on his right side, and her head had somehow made it to his chest. She also decided to bless Harry by drooling copiously on him.
Harry, for his part, was feebly attempting to paw at the nightstand with his left hand. The awkward angle and recently grown bones, not to mention the tingling, made this a futile effort. Nevertheless, he persisted, raging internally the entire time.
Okay, seriously, Daph?! Drool? How much drool does this girl produce?! Do all girls drool when they sleep? Now I need a shower on top of getting the hell out of here. I swear I'll never live this down if I get caught. First, I'll be expelled. Then, I'll have articles ran on me. No longer will I be The-Boy-Who-Lived. Oh, no! I'll be the Boy-Who-Snuck-Into-The-Girls-Dormitories. Wait. No. That's too long. Gah!
He pawed several more times for his wand without result.
In the great hall, Daphne had turned beet red. Astoria, at her side, was cackling.
"I'll bet you don't remember this one!" Astoria laughed, clutching her sides.
"I don't think I want to!" Daphne said, mortified.
Harry was tired. Fifteen minutes of failed attempts had worn him down. Daphne had not moved.
Change of strategy! Harry mused. I need to free my right arm. Then I need to get my wand. The problem is this leech has me in her clutches.
Harry rolled into Daphne slowly. Once he got on his right side, he began worming his arm free. Her hair tickled his nose, and he felt a sneeze coming on.
Merlin, please! Harry begged. Don't sneeze!
It took all he had to hold it back, and he pulled his arm free as he spasmed from holding back the sneeze. His core ached and he suppressed a groan. He was panting quietly, but his arms were free.
I hate that Elf so much right now.
Daphne snorted and rolled away from Harry, taking all the blankets with her.
A blanket hog too. Harry scoffed in his mind.
He sat up, grabbed his wand from the nightstand, and cast a quick Tempus spell. It was 3:18am. A privacy ward followed shortly after.
Just in case.
Harry moved to get out of the bed and found his rear glued to the mattress.
Oh, you're kidding me, Dobby.
He tried and tried but could not move from the bed. Finally, it was too much, and he roared in frustration. Wrong thing to do. Several things happened at once.
First, Daphne bolted upright, wide awake, and recognized that Harry Potter was in her bed.
Second, Daphne rightly identified that her privacy had been violated by said Harry Potter.
Third, Daphne deemed whatever nonsense Harry Potter was attempting to stammer out was not worth her time, and a good hexing was in order.
Harry, seeing the murderous intent on Daphne's face (not that he blamed her, he just felt it needed redirected toward Dobby), deemed it wise to counter whatever she had intended with an Expelliarmus!
Daphne's wand jumped out of her hand and fell limply on the bed between the two. Daphne narrowed her eyes and, with a snarl, jumped atop Harry and started throttling him, uncaring that she could've easily grabbed her wand. Oh no, this needed a hands-on approach.
Once again, Daphne Greengrass was straddling the Boy-Who-Lived and attempting to choke the stuffing out of him.
"What. The. Hell. Potter?!" Daphne shrieked.
"It. Was. Dobby!" Harry managed to gasp out.
"A likely excuse!" Daphne hissed, leaning down to stare Harry in the eye.
Harry noted that Daphne was wearing a light pink tank top which was hanging lower than either of them wanted it to. He averted his eyes as best he could. Daphne noticed and looked down. She yelped and fell off of him, tumbling to the end of the bed. Harry noted she was wearing black pajama shorts and had fantastic legs.
Not a good time, Potter! He chastened himself.
Daphne sat up and gathered herself before glaring at Harry.
"Out!" She pointed.
"I can't," Harry informed.
"I don't give a witch's teat!" Daphne shrieked. "Out!"
"It's not like I want to be here, Daphne!" Harry argued.
Daphne looked affronted.
And yet, somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, Harry thought in confusion.
"Oh, so you don't like being in my bed?" Daphne scoffed.
"Actually, it was quite enjoyable," Harry admitted sheepishly. "You're very warm and smell good."
He found himself being smothered with a pillow, Daphne shouting incoherently the entire time.
Thank Merlin for that privacy ward!
A few minutes later, they both sat gasping for air.
"Okay, let's say I'm willing to reason this out," Daphne huffed.
"I'm telling you, Daph," Harry tried again, not realizing he called her 'Daph'. "I was asleep in the hospital wing after Dobby tried to seriously maim me, and I woke up here stuck to your bed!"
"That damn elf!" Daphne swore.
"Tell me about it!" Harry griped.
They both looked at each other breathlessly and started laughing. Soon they couldn't stop. Tears of mirth poured down their cheeks. Eventually, they recovered. Harry spoke first.
"So…" He trailed off. "What now?"
Daphne tried pushing him off the bed. It didn't work.
"What time is it?" She asked.
Harry waved his wand. "3:58am."
Daphne nodded. "Right, I'm going back to sleep. You'll be staying up and ensuring no one catches us in this ridiculous mess. Wake me at 6am and hopefully the sticking charm will have worn off."
Oh sure. Harry thought sarcastically. Princess here needs her beauty rest. But Merlin forbid the guy who was in the infirmary for having his bones vanished gets his sleep!
"Sounds good," Harry nodded.
Daphne attempted to get comfortable while Harry sat there. It didn't work and eventually she huffed loudly. Harry looked down to see her glaring up at him.
"Are you just going to sit there?" She questioned expectantly.
"Uh…Yes?"
"I can't sleep if you're going to sit there creeping on me," Daphne informed.
"I am not creeping!"
"Then lie down, you prat!"
Grumbling, Harry complied. Daphne, not so subtly, scooted closer and laid her head on Harry's chest.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Why is your shirt wet?"
Harry hesitated, then shrugged. "Because you drool, Daph."
"I do no such thing!"
"Remember the Knight Bus?"
"Shut up, Potter."
Harry chuckled, "Yes ma'am."
Daphne harrumphed and got comfortable. Soon she was asleep once more, snoring softly. Harry ran his hand through her hair, not having anything else better to do. A few minutes later she started drooling again.
Okay, now she's doing it on purpose, Harry convinced himself. I'm still going to kill Dobby for all the trouble he's put me through. But first I'm going to get him his Christmas gift.
Daphne snuggled closer, mumbling quietly.
Make that two Christmas gifts.
In the great hall, Astoria looked at Daphne with a mocking smirk. Daphne caught it and, attempting to project some modicum of dignity, raised an eyebrow at her little sister.
"Yes?"
"Say, Daph," Astoria said mischievously. "You remember when you were eleven on Christmas break, and I was being particularly annoying by trying to trick you into telling me what you got me for Christmas?"
Daphne ground her teeth. "Yes."
"And, as I recall, you chased me up the stairs and, when I ran into my room, you blasted the door open and stuck me to the wall, right above my bed. Do you remember that, Daffy?" Astoria teased.
"Don't call me that!" Daphne demanded. "And, yes, I remember that. What's your point?"
"Well, as I recall, mum came upstairs to see what the fuss was about, and scolded you first, then me."
"Mum always favors you!" Daphne complained.
"Yes, I am her favorite," Astoria preened. "But that's not my point!"
"Morgana give me strength," Daphne prayed.
"You see, I remember mum telling you to get me down…" Astoria trailed off, inspecting her fingernails.
Daphne paled.
"And you did so, quite skillfully I might add," Astoria blew some invisible dust off her nails and grinned at her sister.
"You hag!"
"Yes, but you love me," Astoria fluttered her eyelashes. "Just like you looove Harry!"
"Oh, you bitch," Daphne growled.
"Puh-lease!" Astoria waved her hand at her older sister. "You could have easily freed him! You wanted him in your bed. Admit it!"
"I don't even remember any of this!" Daphne flapped her arms.
"True," Astoria nodded sagely. "But we both know that you wanted him to cuddle you."
"For all I know, the person, or persons, who altered my memory took away my ability to cast the counter sticking charm!"
"Uh huh," Astoria drawled. "Keep telling yourself that, Daffy."
"You're insufferable!" Daphne snarled.
"Yeah, but I love you, Daffy."
Daphne huffed.
"I love you too, Tori," she mumbled.
Harry woke Daphne at 6am as instructed and was grateful to find he could move. He made a hurried exit, but not before Daphne gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek for being a good pillow while simultaneously promising to capture and murder Dobby with him. Harry suspected she was secretly pleased with the house-elf but would rather die than question her commitment.
He had a minor panic attack when he thought about the wards on the girls dormitories, which prevented boys from accessing them, going off. His cloak, however, seemed to mask his signature and not trigger the wards. With the password Daphne had given him, he was able to flee the Slytherin common room and head back to the hospital wing.
He climbed back into the bed, immediately missing the comfort of Daphne's bed, her warmth, and her smell. He fell into a restless sleep until Madam Pomfrey woke him up.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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