Chapter 6: For the Greater Good
Albus Dumbledore sighed in frustration and exasperation. He read the letter again, but it did nothing but increase his already present headache. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts! He should have been consulted before Griselda Marchbanks administered the exams to Harry. Now, it was too late. The seal of the Head of the Department of Magical Education was present on the authorization letter. Other than Harry's disappearance four years ago, these past few months seemed like the first time in a decade that he felt helpless to stop something. The last time such a feeling had gripped him, countless lived had been destroyed due to a war started by a madman.
Dumbledore had developed a plan more than ten years ago which he thought would finally end Lord Voldemort for good. When Sybill Trelawney foretold the birth of a boy who would have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, he had been intrigued and frightened. Curious because he wondered how the said child would defeat the Dark Lord, and frightened because the prophecy claimed that the boy would be more powerful – in a sense – as compared to Lord Voldemort.
And if there was anything that scared Albus, it was power in the hands of dangerous individuals. Merlin knows his life had been destroyed due to his lust for power. His love for Gellert and the plans they had concocted for world domination had backfired spectacularly. The three-way duel had resulted in the love of his life fleeing England, and culminated with him burying his sister's dead body. Even now, more than a century later, Albus did not know whose Killing Curse had snuffled out Ariana's life. He had a strong suspicion but was too scared to even acknowledge it to himself. After that incident, he had decided to quit his dreams of being a world leader.
It was ironic that he was now the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the chosen leader of hundreds of millions of witches and wizards around the world.
Nursing his broken heart, he had travelled all over the world for many years, seeking knowledge about different kinds of magic. He was especially talented in Transfiguration, and once his grand tour was complete, he had applied for a teaching post at Hogwarts.
For a few decades, things were quite calm. Albus had realised he had a real passion for teaching. He saw many young witches and wizards come and go, but outside the walls of the school, things began heating up. Gellert had started seizing power and by the early 1930s, there was an all-out international hunt for him ordered by the I.C.W. Europe and America were burning due to his methods of seeking power. Albus had never condoned violence of any kind. It was one of the things he and Gellert had often fought about back then. He preferred to manipulate in the background and seize power through charisma and leadership. Of course, his current status as the leader of the I.C.W. was proof to decide which theory was right.
While the great magical war was raging on in the western part of the planet, a new threat emerged in the form of an eleven-year-old wizard named Tom Riddle. Albus had been quite worried about the boy's behaviour. He seemed unusually powerful for his age and seemed to have a strong grasp on magic even before he was informed about being a wizard. Not only that, he seemed to be using his powers to harm his enemies. The fact that he was a Parselmouth only made Albus not trust him more, though he did try to give the boy a chance. For the next several years at Hogwarts, Albus had treated Tom Riddle with indifference, and in some cases, intense suspicion. Unfortunately, this backfired on him again, with the bright, intelligent boy resorting to the blackest of the black arts, and also opening the dreaded Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in several attacks and the death of a student.
Albus remembered the boy pleading with him to let him stay at Hogwarts during the summer (as much pleading as a Slytherin would do), but he had refused, wanting Tom to get along with Muggles better. The other reason was that he did not want Tom to spend more time at Hogwarts than necessary (especially without supervision during the holidays) and he thought his decision was sound after the opening of the Chamber of Secrets a few years later.
Unknown to Albus Dumbledore, that choice of his had been one of the main reasons why Tom Riddle resorted to Horcruxes to prevent his death. The young Slytherin had grown up in the Muggle city during the London Blitz, and even though at the time, the Second World War had ended, Tom Riddle was still too frightened to stay in London where a bomb could be dropped on the orphanage anytime by enemy powers. He had at least wanted to stay at the Leakey Cauldron, where the wards around Diagon Alley protected them from the bombs, but without money and adult consent, he couldn't do so. He was forced to stay in the Muggle world and survive during the immediate aftermath of a brutal war, with little to no food, and face the danger of being killed every day.
That experience was what had made Tom Riddle create a Horcrux when he was just a sixteen-year-old boy, despite warnings in the book to not attempt it before magical maturity. The more he split his soul, the more twisted and evil he became. Soon, Voldemort was but a shadow of his former self. In his quest for immortality, he had traded his sanity and humanity. Tom Riddle had always been dark, but he would not have become as twisted and insane if not for the Horcruxes he created.
Albus Dumbledore, however, didn't know this. When Voldemort started his surgical strikes against the British magical society, the aged headmaster was consumed with guilt. He had allowed yet another very powerful wizard to destroy the world – and it was all his fault. He had allowed Gellert to seize power by supplying him with various plans for world domination; tens of thousands of witches and wizards abroad had died as a result and he didn't even want to count the number of Muggle deaths. He had failed in stopping Voldemort's rise to power; dozens, hundreds and within twenty years, thousands of witches and wizards in Britain had perished. So when he heard the prophecy in his office when the Seer had recited it to him during a job interview, he acted.
He quickly put Trelawney under a complex Confundus Charm and restaged the interview in the Hog's Head. He had ensured that a Death Eater was present so that he could give the information to Voldemort. It had worked exactly as he had planned. Severus Snape had delivered the first half of the prophecy and now, Voldemort was distracted. He was searching for this boy who had the power to defeat him. The general population and the Ministry of Magic were now given little importance as he upped his attacks on two mothers who were expecting to deliver at the end of July and fit the terms of the prophecy – Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom.
There had been repeated attacks on the two families. Charlus and Dorea had been killed in an attack on their manor. Augusta Longbottom's husband had been murdered in broad daylight. There was another attack where James and Lily had escaped moments before Voldemort's arrival. Albus had also suspected that there was a spy in the Order of the Phoenix who was leaking information to Voldemort, but he didn't stop it, for the tactic was proving to be effective. The Dark Lord had diverted all his attention to the Order and was not focussed on the general population, so Albus went along with it. It wasn't too difficult for him to realise who the spy was, of course. He wasn't a natural at Legilimency for nothing. He convinced himself that the Order members were all well-trained people, so it was worth the risk. But they were slowly falling one by one.
Finally, he had decided that he couldn't wait anymore, nor risk the lives of the Order members who were being killed individually.
Voldemort had to be stopped by any means necessary before he caused more deaths. The problem was the ethics of it, but Albus had realised something.
The needs of many outweigh the needs of the few. He was the Supreme Mugwump. It was his duty to protect the magical world and keep the Statute of Secrecy intact. For the greater good of all, he had made that horrible decision.
After another attack on Potter Manor, he had convinced James and Lily to go under the Fidelius Charm. The second assault on their ancestral mansion had shaken the couple, especially after what had happened the last time, resulting in the deaths of Charlus and Dorea. James and Lily were a formidable and deadly team, no doubt, but it was difficult to fight when they had a one-year-old baby with them. The very subtle suggestion to use Peter Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper worked out perfectly.
Only he wasn't expecting the child to survive, but thankfully, Voldemort had been defeated as well, just as Trewalney had predicted.
But Albus had been bewildered.
Who on earth could survive being hit by the Killing Curse, much less reflect it back at the caster? But somehow, it had happened. The enchantments he had placed on the cottage showed him that Harry was alive. He had sent Hagrid to collect the child and bring him to Hogwarts while he informed Barty Crouch to apprehend Sirius Black. That decision was sad and it still made Albus cringe in guilt, but it was necessary. As the oath-sworn godfather, not to mention closest blood relative through James Potter, Sirius could not be denied guardianship of the child of the prophecy. Sirius was too unpredictable, so Albus had sent him to Azkaban without a trial. The deaths of all those Muggles only made it easier.
He had honestly thought Pettigrew was dead.
Albus knew exactly what he was condemning young Harry to when he placed the baby on that doorstep, but he knew that the sacrifice was necessary. The child's happiness was irrelevant at the moment. Voldemort may have been vanquished, but there were still many Death Eaters out there – some identified, others unknown – who were willing to do absolutely anything to get their revenge on the boy who had vanquished their master. He had to take a decision quickly so as to protect Harry Potter.
He had stumbled upon a very ancient form of blood-magic that linked family members together; old magic that was tied to intentions of those under its protection. Using the intent of Lily's sacrifice, Albus had collected Lily and Harry's blood, allowing it to power the charms around Number Four, Privet Drive. Petunia's blood connection to Harry would offer the best protection possible.
But there was still the mystery of the boy's scar, and how he had survived the Killing Curse.
Before dropping him off at the Dursleys, Dumbledore had spent every waking minute of an entire day, scanning the child using various obscure spells until he discovered the soul piece lodged in Harry's scar. That was when he realised with a jolt that Voldemort had not been killed like he had assumed, but only temporarily defeated. The twisted man had ignored the sacred laws of Magic and had actually severed his soul and created a Horcrux.
That begged the question – how? How could a piece of Voldemort's soul – because it could hardly be anybody else's, not to mention he could detect Tom's magical signature – be attached to the boy? He spent years finding out everything he could about Horcruxes, consulting various experts on dark magic until he finally arrived at the solution.
Voldemort must have made multiple Horcruxes, and that had resulted in his soul accidentally tearing itself apart when the Killing Curse rebounded, with the severed soul-piece latching onto the only living thing in the room – Harry.
Albus had then started searching for any information on Voldemort that would lead him to other Horcruxes, after persuading Horace Slughorn to give him a memory where Tom Riddle had broached the subject with his teacher. The potions master had constantly evaded Albus, going so far as to resign his position, but eventually, after a lot of effort, the headmaster managed to acquire the extremely valuable memory by using Slughorn's own guilt against him. However, even after knowing that there were potentially six Horcruxes of a seven-part soul, Albus had been unable to track them down. Between his headmaster duties, his position as Chief Warlock of a country that was torn by war, and being Supreme Mugwump of the I.C.W, he had his hands full, and there wasn't enough time to search for clues that led to a trail that had long gone cold.
Albus had also been guilt-ridden for months after the attack on the Potters, blaming himself for what had happened to James, Lily and Sirius. The three Gryffindors had been some of his absolute favourites, with their loyalty in him unshakable, but what had he done? He had betrayed them in the worst possible manner.
But that guilt had reduced considerably after he had seen what happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom – yet another example as to what he had stopped by activating the prophecy. The country also began to prosper again, without Voldemort to cause fear and panic. Albus had also tried his level best to get the Death Eaters locked up, but alas! There were some things he just could not do. With how busy he had been, the corruption at the Ministry of Magic had been undetected and several Wizengamot members and members of the Council of Magical Law had been bribed and threatened to let the accused go scot-free, even with him and Barty Crouch Senior doing their best to lock them up.
However, not all his plans worked out the way he had intended. Harry Potter had disappeared from the Dursleys when he was seven. When he returned to Hogwarts, he was everything Dumbledore didn't want.
He was intelligent; dangerously so. He also knew about his family heritage, embraced it, and didn't have a problem with showing how exceptional he truly was when it came to magic. The boy was also cold and reclusive. While it was true that magical children developed faster mentally and physically as compared to Muggles, it was frightening how similar Harry Potter was as compared to Tom Riddle. The same charisma, the same elegance and grace, the same devilishly good looks for one so young, the same sharp mind; they were all dangerous combinations and Albus couldn't help but remember Harry's apparent hatred of Muggles. He was already nervous about it which was why he had hoped to gain the boy's loyalty by accepting young Harry into the accelerated program, but that opportunity was now out of his grasp.
Harry had also refused to go back to Petunia. Logically, he understood that Harry was safer behind the extensive wards of Potter Castle, but the problem was that Albus didn't know what enchantments powered the castle in the first place, and if they were good enough. Just because they were powerful once did not mean they were powerful now! Harry was just a child and without an adult to guide him, who would have taught him to access the wards? That was not the only reason – there were books in the Potter library which Albus did not want the boy to read. Harry gaining more power sent shivers down his spine as he remembered another black haired boy fifty years ago. There were many differences between Harry and Tom, oh yes, but there were also dangerous similarities, which was why he had set up the test for him with the fake philosopher's stone.
The boy had actually tried to blackmail him! HIM! He was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, magically and politically, and Harry actually had the gall to blackmail him! Not even Voldemort had dared to do that at the height of his powers, but deep in his heart, Albus was actually amused that Harry had attempted it.
Ah, the mind of a child!
But it looked like it was unwarranted. The young Ravenclaw had been accepted into the accelerated program through the Ministry of Magic with the help of his new guardian, Lord Sirius Black.
Albus rubbed his temples. He would have to keep a very close eye on Harry, closer than he previously intended. The boy had completely ignored the test he had set for him. Harry had not ventured to the third-floor corridor like the rest of the more curious students in the school. He suspected that Quirrell wanted to steal the stone, thinking it was real, and had a feeling that the Defence teacher somehow worked for Voldemort, though how, Albus did not know. He had an inkling about what was going on, though. He had initially thought Quirrell would be enough to test Harry, but now ... maybe it would be better if the boy confronted Voldemort himself? It would prove to be effective as Harry would see how dangerous his parents' murderer is. That would surely make the boy trust the wise old Headmaster, would it not?
At this point, Albus was even willing to teach Alchemy if it meant getting Harry to trust him.
He snapped out his musings when the door to his office banged open and Severus Snape entered with a snarl on his face. He threw a very familiar looking letter on the desk and bellowed, "I will not accept this, Albus! That Potter brat is being given too much leeway. I will not let him inside any other class other than the one he is supposed to be in, and that is the class for the first years. What nonsense is this?"
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Babbling, and Vector entered the office too. Albus sighed as he drowned a Calming Draught. This was going to be a long meeting indeed.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
The second term at Hogwarts began with loud whispers and gossip about one Harry Potter. He seemed to have been accepted into the famed accelerated program which had not been seen at the school for a century. People wondered how talented he must be for him to be selected, but others were positive that he was awarded the opportunity only because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. The newspaper article about him seeking attention by enrolling himself in the program written by Rita Skeeter didn't help matters either. Of course, Sirius had gone and let the editor of the Daily Prophet know exactly why people trembled in fear when they heard the name 'Black'. It was a synonym for blackmail and the editor had hastily printed an apology the next day.
Naturally, it was ignored by the rest of the population. No one read something as boring as a retraction in the newspaper.
Much to Sirius' delight, Harry didn't seem to care about the negative press. Many of the older years in Ravenclaw were openly sneering at him, not to mention Hermione Granger had thrown a major temper tantrum, but he didn't care. Harry was thriving in his third-year classes. He had quickly risen to the top of the class again, much to the joy of his teachers. Professor Babbling especially was thrilled when she realised Harry considered Runes to be one of his most favourite subjects. The third-year students began to realise why he was in the accelerated program. He was a prodigy.
Snape was, naturally, nastier than ever. Harry was seriously considering murdering the bastard, but he didn't know how to do it without raising suspicion. Then there was Quirrell. Harry had caught sight of the man openly staring at Harry with a hungry gleam in his eye and it was making Harry very uncomfortable. He had not shared this with Sirius. Merlin knows he would march to the castle to 'take care of it' if Harry ever mentioned it to his godfather.
Harry still didn't know what he was feeling when it came to Sirius, and now that he realised it, Daphne as well. His relationship with each of them had deepened over time. His godfather had given him a communication mirror so that they could talk to each other all the time. Harry had been very impressed with the mirror and had sent a letter to his account manager at Gringotts to find out everything about the company. At the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think that despite knowing Sirius for a very short time, he could picture a good – dare he say it – father-son relationship with the older wizard in the future. His chest always tightened when he thought about it, but Harry didn't know what it meant.
Then, of course, was Daphne. He had taken to spending increasingly more time with her in the Room of Requirement. Doing so made them start talking to each other more as he tutored her in her studies. It was now at such a level that Harry genuinely felt protective of her and he would go so far as to call her his best friend, even though she was his only friend. The Room of Requirement itself was a big mystery to him and the way he found it, even more so. He let his mind wander, thinking back to that day.
It was the first week back at school. Harry was walking along a corridor on the seventh floor after meeting the Headmaster. Dumbledore had wanted to speak to him about the exams he had taken at the Ministry. He had also given Harry one of his patented 'I'm disappointed in you' looks. Apparently, he was about to let Harry know that he had approved of the accelerated program and was waiting for him to come back to school, but Harry honestly doubted the veracity of the headmaster's statement.
Just as he turned a corner, he saw the tapestry of a man teaching a group of trolls how to dance. Suddenly, he was assaulted by a memory again.
He had found the legendary Room of Requirement. It had been a perfect coincidence that he had seen one of those house-elves using the room. Excitement churned in his stomach as he paced three times in front of the blank wall. From what he gathered after interrogating the elf, he could imagine the room to resemble anything he wanted! He opened his eyes and stopped pacing.
A large iron door appeared.
Harry gasped as he missed a step, nearly tripping on his shoes, wincing in pain as his head throbbed horribly. That had been another memory; a memory that belonged to Voldemort. What the hell was happening?
He curiously looked at the blank stretch of wall. Could it really resemble anything he wanted? Harry slowly moved closer and paced three times in front of it. On the third try, a large metal door appeared. When he opened it and stepped inside, Harry's eyes widened in shock. The room was exactly as he wanted it to be. Several practice dummies were present, with wands in hand.
Ten minutes later, Harry realised that these dummies were nothing like those he had back home at Potter Castle. These felt real, like he was actually duelling a grown wizard. A slow grin formed on his face He couldn't even describe the advantages this room could offer. He would use it to his advantage. After all, he had a duelling championship to prepare for.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Harry activated the Marauder's Map again, his eyes slowly scanning it. It was a goldmine of information, giving details about what people were up to by simply observing their movements, which he would pass on to Daphne. She was overjoyed when she realised the amount of blackmail material it offered. Such things were extremely useful if one had to survive in Slytherin, which her parents had repeatedly told her and Astoria growing up. A couple of minutes later, his eyes narrowed. This was something he hadn't seen the last time.
Professor Quirrell's name seemed to overlap with another name, but he couldn't read it clearly. Harry tapped his wand on the map, ordering it to magnify, showing the name which was overlapping with Quirrell's.
Tom Riddle.
"Tom Riddle?" Harry whispered to himself in confusion. He winced in pain as another memory assaulted his mind.
He was in his bed in the Slytherin dormitories. He kept tapping his wand on the sheet of parchment and wondered if he was ever going to succeed. The letters kept interchanging over and over again, but none of them made any sense. His original name returned.
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
Anger bubbled in his gut as he angrily tapped his wand on the sheet once more. Letters changed again, but this time, it formed something different. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the words written on the parchment. It was a perfect anagram of his name, which was what he originally intended. It also made sense because his goal was to conquer death. What a perfect word! It meant 'Flight from Death'. He smirked at the words he could see which were shimmering under the light from his wand –
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
Harry gasped as he picked himself from the floor, his body still trembling slightly, having collapsed due to the pain of the memory slamming into his conscious mind. He had to control himself when those memories assaulted him. It would be monumentally disastrous if Dumbledore or the Ministry found out that he somehow had Voldemort's memories in his head. He swallowed heavily when his gaze returned to the map.
He couldn't believe it. Voldemort was still alive? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? The Killing Curse was said to have impacted him, right? If that were true, then how could Voldemort be inside the castle? Harry knew it was the truth – the map never lies, after all. It had Gryffindor blood powering it, so it was linked to the wards themselves. A shiver of fear ran down the length of Harry's spine as he looked at the name with wide eyes.
Tom Riddle
If Voldemort was inside the castle, then why was his name nearly combined with that of Quirrell? Was he disguised as Quirrell, using the form as an alias? In that case, Harry was in grave danger.
What to do?
Harry already knew that Dumbledore had kept a fake Philosopher's stone in the school. He did not believe even for a second that it could be the real one. There was no way Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel would give away their prized alchemical discovery. The stone was the only thing keeping them alive, after all. They might be very old, but he doubted they were that stupid.
But apparently, Voldemort had taken the bait. Harry had heard Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger discussing the stone many times since the second term began. Curiously enough, each time, Harry would be in the vicinity, though he didn't understand the reasoning behind it. He had simply shrugged it off after researching about the stone.
He also knew that there was a Cerberus behind that door in the third-floor corridor from speaking to the Weasley twins who had investigated it. He had read about them from a book he had taken from the Potter family library. Very little was known about those monster dogs, but apparently, music can make it go to sleep.
Harry absentmindedly gripped the locked hanging from around his neck. Opening it, he saw a picture of his parents smiling back at him, waving as though they could actually see him. His face remained stony as he looked back. He didn't remember them, but reading their journals, and the way both of them described him, their son, had touched Harry's wounded heart just after he had escaped the Dursleys. Harry may not even remember their voices, but they were his parents and the strange feeling in his chest returned again. If not for Voldemort, he would have had parents. If not for Voldemort, he would not have been abandoned at the Dursleys. If not for Voldemort, he would have lived a carefree life as any eleven-year-old should.
He needed to get rid of Voldemort. He was probably the one who let the troll inside the castle on Samhain, so there was no telling what lengths the Dark Lord would go to get the stone and maybe kill Harry himself in the process. Harry had also noted Quirrell eyeing him recently. Ergo, he had to go. But how?
A week later, Harry finally had enough courage to put his plan in motion. He had been tempted to contact his godfather but had restrained himself. Sirius would not approve of Harry's decision. He didn't like it much either, but he wasn't going to let Voldemort kill him now; not when his future was finally looking bright. Swallowing his nervousness and trying to control his slightly shaking limbs, he donned the Invisibility Cloak and sneaked out of Ravenclaw Tower.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Professor Quirrell was walking towards his office, stuttering as usual when he greeted a couple of the prefects who were patrolling the corridors after curfew. When he entered, he noticed a slip of parchment waiting on his desk with an alert charm on it. His master ordered him to investigate immediately, so Quirrell scanned and dispelled the charm. It was a simple message written in indistinguishable capital letters.
LV –
MUSIC SOOTHES THE SAVAGE BEAST. I HOPE YOU COME BACK TO US SOON.
– A FRIEND
Just as he finished reading it, the parchment burst into flames, startling the man. His master ordered him to head to the third floor at once so that they could test the theory and verify if it was a trap or not. No one else was supposed to know of Voldemort's involvement and the Dark Lord was curious as to who could have sent that message. He knew that it wasn't Dumbledore because it wasn't his style, so he decided to investigate who was behind this; after, of course, confirming the theory behind the Cerberus' reaction to music. As it was quite late, no one was around when Quirrell made his way to the third-floor corridor.
Dispelling the alert charms cast by Dumbledore, Quirrell opened the door and entered. At once, the Cerberus started growling, but he conjured a harp which began playing soft music. The large dog's eyelids started drooping. Once it was asleep, Quirrell carefully moved one of the massive paws away from the trap door.
The Defence professor never saw that silent stunner coming from behind him.
As he crumpled to the floor, Harry silenced the harp with a flick of his wand and sent an overpowered stinging hex at the sleeping Cerberus. The massive dog growled angrily and pounced on the only target it could see – the unconscious form of Professor Quirrell.
Harry swallowed as he turned away from the sight of the mangled body of the Defence professor, putting the hood of the invisibility cloak back over his head. He couldn't believe he had actually done it. Reinforcing his mental shields, he tried to push the memory as far into his mind palace as possible. He opened the door and walked out, trying to get to Ravenclaw Tower as soon as possible, doing his best to think about anything other than the murder he had just committed. He would probably have to take a Calming Draught for the night; maybe a few other nights too.
He never saw the shade rise from Quirrell's dead body, the red eyes staring the place Harry's head occupied before he had left the room. With an angry snarl, Lord Voldemort flew away from Hogwarts and back towards Albania.
He had been thwarted again by Harry Potter, but it would be the last time. He, Lord Voldemort would make sure of it!
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
April 2002
"Harry, what are we doing here? It's nearly midnight!" Daphne whispered in his ear.
The two of them were under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, prowling the castle after curfew. It was early April now, and Daphne couldn't figure out what her fiancé was up to.
"Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous," Harry smirked at her. "I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?!"
"Yes, now hush. We're almost there."
Harry led her to the seventh-floor corridor and they stopped in front of a very familiar tapestry. After he checked the map to ensure no one was nearby, he removed the cloak and paced three times until the iron door appeared.
He then looked at Daphne and whispered, "Close your eyes."
When Daphne reluctantly complied, she felt Harry gently take her hand and lead her inside. She could feel a light, cool breeze but knew that it was the magic of the room that created it. Harry carefully guided her down several steps and she was made to sit on something. She was getting restless, so before she could open her eyes, Harry conjured a blindfold and slid it over her eyes.
"Harry!" whined Daphne. "Come on! What's this about?"
"You'll see," he said, sounding amused.
Daphne couldn't hear anything either but knew there were probably silencing charms in place. Finally, Harry removed the blindfold with a wave of his hand. Her eyes took time to adjust to the dim lighting. They seemed to be on a small boat, but it was closed on all sides, so she couldn't see what was going on outside.
"Where are we?" she asked, confused.
Harry simply smiled and flicked his wand, making the roof of the boat disappear. Daphne gasped.
They were in the middle of a calm lake at night. There was a full moon with stars and constellations seen in the clear night sky above. Mountain peaks could be seen in the distance and she could see forest cover on the distant banks of the lake too. The boat swayed slightly in the water. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
"How did you know?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"You told me," said Harry, smiling slightly. "You told me that you had dreamt about such a place once and that you always remembered it. I saw flashes of it when I was teaching you Occlumency about two months ago. You said that if you ever were to come across a place like this, you would wish to spend your birthday there."
"You remembered?" she asked, not taking her glistening eyes off Harry's face.
He simply smiled as he reached for a bag. She watched him assemble everything needed. A small vanilla cake, her favourite, was being held in his hands, with one of those fancy flower candles on it.
"Happy birthday, Daphne," he whispered, just as it turned midnight.
Tears flowed down Daphne's cheeks as she croaked out a thank you. Harry smiled as he took a small piece of cake and fed it to her, just as his godfather had instructed him to do. Daphne, in turn, took a piece of cake and fed it to him as well.
"Look up," he muttered, pointing to the sky. When she looked at the night sky, she gasped as several fancy fireworks exploded in the air, bathing the sky in beautiful colours. One of the fireworks exploded, forming the words, 'Happy Birthday Daphne' in the sky.
"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, wiping her tears away. "Thank you so much. You didn't have to go to such lengths to impress me, you know."
"You may be my fiancée, Daphne, but you're also my first and only friend," he shrugged. "I just wanted to thank you for that and, well, apologise for you being trapped with me because of the betrothal contract. It wasn't your fault that I'm the last Potter."
"I don't mind being engaged to you," smiled Daphne, her cheeks colouring, a hint of awkwardness creeping through. "In fact, I think it's the best thing that has ever happened to me."
"Really? You're not mad that you will be forced to marry me?"
"I was angry, yes, but so were you. But I'm not anymore. Over the past several months, you've become my best friend, Harry. Sure, I've known Tracy for a couple of years, but she's very social while I'm not; at least not outside the family, but I don't mind having you as my best friend. Forced into it or not, I'm happy."
"Me too," said Harry quietly. There was tense silence for a minute, the air filled with uncertainty, which he broke by saying, "I – ahem – I have a present for you. I hope you like it."
He took out a long, slender velvet box and gave it to Daphne. She accepted it and opened it carefully and gasped when she saw what was inside.
"It's a locket similar to mine," said Harry, pointing to the one hanging from around his neck outside his shirt, "with a bevvy of protective charms on it, some of which are not exactly legal. Open it."
Daphne opened the locket and saw that on one side was a picture of her with her parents and Astoria, while on the other was a picture of her and Harry taken during the Yule Ball at Greengrass Manor. She moved closer and hugged him tightly, not being able to convey her thanks with mere words. Harry stiffened in panic and realising this, Daphne pulled away, giving him his space.
"So, whose idea was this?" she asked teasingly.
Harry's green eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn't see the point in lying to her. "My godfather suggested I do this," he acknowledged. "I'd simply wanted to give you a present and leave it at that, but he insisted that I make it special, and since I had no idea how to proceed, he helped me with it. The gift was completely my idea, though."
"Well, I appreciate it," said Daphne, smiling brightly at him. "Thanks, Harry. You're a true friend."
A hint of a shy, pleased smile formed on Harry's lips, forcing him to look away, his face flushed with happiness. He couldn't fully understand the strange emotions that he was experiencing, but whatever it was, it felt good.
They stayed there for an hour, enjoying the beautiful scenery, each secretly glancing at the other when the other wasn't looking. Neither was willing to admit it, but Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were slowly beginning to develop feelings for each other.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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