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ACT3CH12 - Broken Mirror
🕑 Added 2023-09-06 15:29:39 +0000 UTC“Bloody buggering hell!” Daphne groaned, bent on all fours, her entire body shaking. She shivered, took deep breaths, and let her head hang down limp between her shoulders. “Fucking hell! That hurt, Harry!”
“Sorry….” Harry began.
“Don’t apologise, ‘Arry,” said Delacour, the sadistic bitch that she was. “What else can you expect from a leetle girl?”
Daphne glared at her, and turned to her fiance. “She’s right. It’s not — Ughh! It’s not your fault. I asked for it, remember?”
“I’m hurting you.”
“No, I can take it.”
“Leetle girls and their pride.”
“Not everyone is a pro like you, bitch!”
“Daphne, I’m serious. We should take this slow.”
“No Harry, I’m fine… Let me… Let me just breathe for a moment.”
Gritting her teeth, Daphne pushed herself up, before grabbing the wall next to her for support. Really, what was she thinking, asking Harry to fight her seriously? That last spell had hit her like a sledgehammer, driving all the air out of her lungs and folding her in half. Three spells, five seconds, and the duel-crazy Daphne Greengrass was on the floor, outplayed and quite-literally, floored.
Thank Merlin and Morgana that Astoria wasn’t there to see this. She’d probably never be able to live it down.
“‘Arry,” said Delacour. “I really think all zis is unnecessary.”
Daphne didn’t bother hiding her scowl. Regardless of their mutual understanding, she doubted that their catfight was going to stop any time soon. Delacour might have decided to not play mind-games over Harry’s affections, but that didn’t mean she was going to stop being a bitch anytime soon. And with Christmas being barely a month away, it was only expected that her bitchiness would run an all-time high.
But that was fine. Totally fine. After Christmas, she and Harry would be officially engaged. No more bound by mere handfasting rituals. They would be husband and wife. She wouldn’t get to call herself a Potter though, and would have to be content to stay as Lady Black, or at least, a Lady Black, if Sirius Black ever decided to move ahead with his tentative relationship with Madam Bones.
It would be a temporary respite at best. Fleur Delacour was a talented witch, and from Harry’s own description of her, someone that was on the verge of revolutionising the warding industry if her project came to a successful completion. And as much as she hated it, she was a lot more pretty than her, a veela, and spoke with that ridiculous French accent. Harry must love the way she called him ‘Arry all the time. And most of all, their relationship had formed naturally, without any political intervention, like her own had been. Yes, Daphne was getting a little head start here, but she had no doubt that Fleur Delacour would use every trick in and out of the book to ensure that she too ended up as a permanent position in Harry’s life — wife or not.
Especially if the rumours she had heard about House Delacour were even remotely true.
But the worst part, by far, was the realisation that Harry loved Fleur Delacour.
“It’s not unnecessary,” she retorted with rancour. “Harry and I are about to be engaged in less than a month. His problems are my problems, his enemies, mine. It’s only natural that I need to be better prepared.”
“Better prepared?” drawled Delacour. “What do you expect to do? Duel Death Eaterz?”
“Why not?” Daphne shot back with equal vitriol. “Because I’m not the great and talented Beauxbatons Champion? Remind me of your performance in the Second Task again? she asked. “I deserve Zero?””
Delacour’s nostrils flared. For a moment, Daphne almost expected her to attack him. But instead, she smiled, and that put her on edge.
“Exactement!” The veela smirked. “I’ve passed my NEWTs and am very skilled at Warding and duelling. And even I faced all that trouble in the tournament. You’re only a feefth year, and are… what is ze Eenglish word? Liability?”
Daphne grither teeth.
“Daphne has a point.,” said Harry. “Voldemort is out there, and sooner or later, he’s going to come after me, and those I care for the most. And Malfoy has already shown that he can attack Daphne to get a rise out of me whenever he wants. If I can’t keep her safeI can at least keep her prepared..”
Fleur scowled.
“Granted, I don’t know much,” he continued. “But at least I can put her through what Sirius taught me this summer, and Sirius is one of the best Hit-wizards out there.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. Sirius Black’s reputation as a Hit-wizard was nothing short of legendary. Despite the man’s occasional inappropriate sense of humour, Daphne always recognized a sharp mind at work behind all that charming, annoying facade. No man that could keep his mind intact and sharp like a dagger despite twelve years of constant dementor exposure was anything but extraordinary.
And Harry had trained under him for an entire month.
“And then there is Astoria to consider as well,” said Harry. “And Daphne stays in Slytherin House most of the time. She needs all the help she can get.”
“I might be attacked either way,” murmured Daphne. “Malfoy isn’t going to take everything sitting-down. Especially after I damaged his reputation in the Slytherin Assembly.”
“Oh? What did you do?”
Her face brightened. “It was after your duel with Malfoy and his cohorts in Umbridge’s classroom. The entire Slytherin House sat in Assembly, and they wanted to get a better picture of you.”
“You’re kidding right?,” asked Harry. “How jobless are they?”
Daphne ignored him. “It is the unspoken rule of Slytherin House to stand with the ones in power. And you demonstrated that you have power and skill in spades. Your position as Warlock, and your notorious Death-powers, especially that Patronus…” Daphne closed her eyes. “That thing still gives me the creeps just by thinking about it. It sent a very strong message to everyone, and I’m not talking about the rest of the class.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what you did, Harry,” she said, resting against the wall. “You knew you were sending a strong statement by humiliating Malfoy like that. You could have finished it in less than five seconds, and cursed Draco six ways to Sunday, but you didn’t. You ensured that he declared the duel, he attacked you first, and his group was the one to cast dark spells. You set the stage, and you played them like fools.”
The presentation needed work, but results were what truly mattered. Harry had simply batted everything Malfoy and his cronies had hurled at him, and brought them down with casual first or second-year spells. It showcased his spellcasting, his quick thinking, his power and his reflexes. Any idiot could mug up some dark spells and throw them like amateurs, but it took real skill to take simple spells and turn the battle into overwhelming victory. The trick was to throw in so much psychological shock, that they’d have no choice but feel that he was invincible. Make them believe in the inevitability of his victory. That he could crush them like an insect if he wanted.
Victorious warriors won first and then went to war, while defeated warriors went to war first and then sought to win.
Harry tilted his head slightly to the right. “And what of it?”
“What of it?” Daphne repeated in confusion. “Harry, Slytherin House is divided. Because of you. Some are in awe of you, while others are afraid. Part of it is because you ‘allegedly killed’ several of their family members, part of it is because of your public recognition as a Warlock. They know you are Nobility now, and for most of the conservative faction, that means a ton. Some of them are simply interested in you for what you represent — a neutral egalitarian candidate that does not follow Dumbledore’s approach or the Dark Lord’s extremist propaganda. These are people that aren’t quite as bigoted as Malfoy, or a bunch of dunderheads that will follow the Dark Lord like sheep. People who have businesses, investments and overall, can look into the future and see how another war would only damage their agenda.”
“I just wanted to teach Malfoy and Umbridge a lesson, Daphne,” Harry said, rubbing his temples. “I wasn’t planning to stand in the election for Minister.”
Fleur snorted. “Says ze guy that caused a student mutiny against the Ministry in just two days.”
“In my defence, I didn’t expect it to explode like that. Honestly, I had expected some of them to act out, but not all. If anything, Daphne and the others deserve praise for motivating the rest of the students.”
“Barely,” said Daphne. “All I did was relay your thoughts.”
Harry blinked. “And that was… enough? Surely you jest?”
She gritted her teeth. Harry was downplaying himself and his influence again. It always bugged her whenever he did that. Not because he hated the attention and did whatever he could to claim that whatever he did or could do was not a big deal, but because he genuinely believed what he said. Regardless of whatever anyone said about his abilities or how special he was, Harry naturally had a low self-esteem that always reared its ugly head whenever he was compared with others.
Granted, it didn’t stop him from using that power and influence from time to time to devastating effects, but even then, he never stopped to notice his accomplishments.
“You really don’t know the kind of power you wield, Harry. You just needed to assert it, and that performance did exactly that. Most people out there don’t want to think for themselves. They are too happy to let someone powerful and influential do it for them. You had already neutered Malfoy before, and I took advantage of that. Simple.”
“Somehow, I doubt it’s as simple as that.”
“It is,” said Daphne. “In fact, I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in attending a private meeting. Small gathering, no more than ten people. Theodore Nott, Elizabeth Rosier, Rowan Haywood, Alicia Fawley, to name a few.”
“All Slytherins eh?” asked her fiance. “Half of those names would fall under the Death Eater banner.”
“Yes, and yet they want to come meet and hear what the Boy-Who-Lived has to say.”
“...”
“Our world isn’t divided into Dumbledore lovers and Death Eaters, Harry,” said Daphne. “You’ve got people that follow the culture and traditions of our forefathers, and you’ve got people who want to turn the wizarding world into a damned magical copy of the muggle world. You’ve got people who’d embrace muggleborns without a care in the world, but turn to curses at the sight of a muggle, and then there are those that marry muggles and want nothing to do with the magical world. You’ve got people that believe in the old gods, and are part of the ancient gatherings and brotherhoods. And then you’ve got people that actually invest in muggle technology, medicine and industry, and rise up as power brokers on the international stage. You have the Ancient clans, the Nobility, the Commoners and those that have too much money and too little prestige. Somewhere in the middle of this is a small fraction of people that hold extremist views against muggle born and muggle alike, and are stupid enough to believe in the Dark Lord’s hypocrisy. You putting all of them in one basket, is not the way of doing things. Do that, and people will believe you’re a fool, or worse, just a tool used by the likes of Albus Dumbledore.”
“And where do you fall in?” challenged Delacour, one hand at her hip.
“I’m a magical supremacist, just like my dad.”
“You mean bigoted.”
Daphne sneered at her. “Have care what insults you throw at me, Delacour. Do not confuse me with a pureblood extremist. My father hires more muggle born students fresh out of Hogwarts than any other family. We pay homage to the old traditions, and send representatives and gifts to ancient gatherings. We hire half-giants and half-trolls as part of our security. At the same time, we worship our culture, our traditions, and the way our forefathers wanted us to commune with us, and we despise it when uppity mudbloods have the gall to tell us how wrong we are.”
“Daphne,” Harry snapped. “I don’t like that word. Unless you’ve forgotten, my own mother was a muggleborn. My best friend is a muggleborn. Remember that it was her blood that merged with James Potter and brought the Peverell bloodline back.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Harry, I have nothing but respect for your mum. Even Dad has a ton of good things to say about her, more than your father at least. His only description of James Potter was a Gryffindor prankster with an incredible talent for transfiguration. And I’ll have you remember, Penelope Clearwater is my father’s secretary, and she’s very much a muggleborn.”
Her fiance’s expression didn’t change.
Daphne scrunched her nose, annoyed. “Like, what do you even think mudblood means?”
“Dirty blood,” He said with a half sneer. “Malfoy called Hermione that.”
“Figures,” she exhaled. “I’ll go out on a limb and claim that it was Weasley that educated you on the finer aspects behind that slur. Harry, it’s true that mudblood means dirty blood, but it doesn’t automatically apply to muggleborns. Though I can’t blame Malfoy for that one. Granger is very much a mudblood.”
“Daphne!”
“No, Harry!” She stood her ground. “Magic blooms in rare souls. It’s granted to those that are destined for higher things. It flows in our very blood and unites us with our ancestry. That is why our forefathers hated squibs so much, believing that their blood had been muddied and lost the spark of magic. Nothing is more important to us, than our family, our bloodline, and our magic, and those that have gone against those three have always attracted the ire of witches and wizards across centuries. Those that fell out of the bloodline are called Squibs. Those that stand against Family, are regarded as Blood- Traitors. But the worst are those that turn their back on Magic, on our traditions, on everything we stand for, and wish to enforce muggle culture upon us. The mudbloods.”
That brought Harry to a pause.
“Do not tell me you are unaware of how Granger denigrates our culture, Harry Potter.” Daphne went on. After all this time, she had finally gotten the chance to spill her heart out about what she truly thought of that girl. “Yes, I know there are people like Malfoy who are biassed against muggleborns, but it is people like Granger that justifies those extremist beliefs. Forget us Slytherins, go ask Lavender Brown. She’s a Gryffindor. Or even Patil, or Susan Bones. My friend Tracey is a halfblood, and even she can’t stand Granger’s snobbishness. Ask your friend the Weasley girl what she really thinks of Granger, and then come tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He blinked. “Daphne, Hermione’s grown up as part of a muggle family—”
“So have you,” she shot back. “I don’t see you doing the same. I’m not saying that our culture is perfect, or that we have always done our best to assimilate muggleborns into our society, far from it. Our society is bigoted, and so long as people like Malfoy are in power, it will continue to be so. And yet, Albus Dumbledore, a half blood, has been the Chief Warlock for nearly fifty years. You claimed the Dark Lord’s true parentage in front of the Wizengamot, and yet, purebloods of high pedigree still follow him. It’s not about blood you have in you, so long as it is magical. It’s about what you do, what you represent. Even the Weasleys that you are so close to, for all their being on the progressive side, no barely anything about muggles in the first place. Merlin, go ask your own godfather, and see what he has to say about them.”
Harry frowned. “That… I can agree. Arthur Weasley keeps asking me about basic things like rubber duckies and elevators. And Sirius is too biassed over the Dursleys, and was raised a pureblood. But… you’re making the muggles look like they’re not even humans.”
Daphne threw her head back and laughed. “Really, Harry, you are taking the side of muggles? You who has suffered their torment for all these years? And Delacour,” she glared at the veela. “You of all people should be on my side when Harry defends the very creatures that destroyed his childhood.”
Delacour looked like she had been slapped.
“I understand where you’re coming from, Daphne,” said her fiance. “But the muggles are not as bad as you’re painting them to be. Look at everything they have accomplished without magic. Wizarding Britain is a tiny, tiny thing. Muggles outnumber us by one in a million probably, and they have achieved just as much as witches and wizards have. Governments, artists, researchers, technology, business — everything we have, they have too, and more.”
She sighed. “Okay, I see where you’re coming from. You’re harbouring a delusion that I, like Pansy and Malfoy, think that the muggles are nothing but uncultured savages.”
“Well not in those exact terms but —”
“Harry,” she stressed, “My father does business all over Europe. I’ve been to over eighteen countries in Europe. I’ve visited the States, and if not for the entire fiasco this summer, Dad was actually planning to visit a relative in Australia. I’ve visited spas, travelled in luxury trains and aeroplanes, shopped at malls, and watched movies at cinema halls. I’m not as uninformed as you think I am, and neither are most families.”
“Then you should also know that just like there are good wizards and bad wizards, the same goes for muggles. Yes, the Dursleys are magic-haters, and bigoted against magic, but I doubt Hermione’s parents think the same. We’ve got twice as many muggleborns as there are purebloods, and I doubt all of them have grown up with people that hate magic.”
Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but chose to gather her words first. “I get it. We have been dancing around the most salient point, the main difference between magical and muggle.”
Harry cocked his head.
“Dad always says this,” said Daphne. “Muggles aren’t lesser, but other. Not worthless, but of other value. Not disposable, but of a different disposition. Something about them makes them innately reject magic, reject the wonder it brings. They do not recognize and respect the whims of the world like we do, and neither do they accept it as a force greater than themselves. As if this world isn’t a living, breathing temple of pure wonder, but a machine that only exists to serve their needs. Do you know how many ley lines have faded over the last couple of centuries? How many spiritual places have been robbed of their guardian spirits? Forest after forest, sea after sea. Muggles dare to walk where they were never meant to walk. And as they do, the spiritual essence retreats, withers, dies.” She paused for a moment. “They grow more numerous, more petty, more vicious, while they foul the world with their filth, their noise, their buildings, and their machines. Grindelwald saw that, and he wanted to turn the tables into a world where muggles knew not to cross their boundaries, not dare defile a world where Magic is Might.”
“Ze same Grindelwald zat ransacked France?”
Daphne blinked, not expecting the sudden opposition. “He was attacked by the ICW Aurors and it devolved into a fight. Look, I’m not trying to say that Grindelwald was a hero. He was a Dark Lord, and his methods were cruel and perhaps, things could have been done better, but at least he did something. We’re witches and wizards, able to create wonders out of Magic. And yet the governments would have us hiding from the muggles, as if we are the freaks.”
Deep down, a cold, heartless part of her was pleased at her fiance flinching at that word.
The brief silence that fell was weighed, and then Daphne spoke again.
“Granger does not share that sentiment. She thinks we are just muggles that can break some laws of physics but waving little sticks of wood. She has the gall to come into our world, change it, and assume that everything her muggle world proclaims is better. With less than half a decade of familiarity, she judges us for following millenia of tradition. She goes around freeing house elves out of some harebrained idea about abolishing slavery, not realising she is killing those very creatures that need to live and work in wizard homes or perish. Yes Harry, I absolutely abhor your so-called best friend, and if that makes me a bad person in your book, so be it. I’ll just take it as a fact that we are fundamentally different from each other.”
She finished with a glare at her fiance. Neither of them spoke for the next several seconds. Finally, her fiance let out an audible exhale and sank down into his chair.
“All this time, I used to think that the Dursleys and the Death Eaters are opposite ends of the spectrum. But now I realise I was seeing things in binary.” He looked up and met her eyes. “There are many spectrums, and you and Hermione are opposites in one of them.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes.
“I’ll admit that Hermione is stubborn, and thick-headed when it comes to dealing with magical traditions and culture. You are right, she probably thinks that witches and wizards are muggles that can do magic out of little sticks of wood. She applies the common sense she has gained from living amidst muggles, and despite her last four years of magical education, she has strongly maintained those over being a witch. It is why she’s always so very methodical, taking magic like a science instead of, how did you put it, a wonder. A miracle. I can understand where you’re coming from, Daphne, but you know what? Dobby was treated worse than a slave by the Malfoys, and high-strung or not, trying to save him was the right thing to do.”
“Harry —”
“I’m not finished!”
Daphne flinched.
“You told me that Hermione Granger is a mudblood because she spits on the ideals of your forefathers. Did anyone try to tell her differently? Maybe. Maybe not. Knowing her, she probably called it barbaric and walked off. So yes, maybe she’s a mudblood. But then, what does it make you?”
Daphne narrowed her eyes.
“You claim that the muggleborns should accept the customs and traditions of your forefathers and become like you. I guess that’s way better than Malfoy who thinks of them as the scum beneath his shoes. At the same time, you’re calling their parents as other. Tell me Daphne, would you be able to live together with me, as wife and husband, knowing that I don’t consider your mother as an equal? That I think she’s other?”
“That’s not the point —”
“That’s exactly the point,” said Harry. “Muggles don’t have magic, but that hasn’t stopped them. They have used their brains, their ingenuity, their determination to shape the world in their image. Maybe you are right that their invasion and pollution is causing the spiritual to fade away. But machines and technology isn’t all they have. They too have thinkers, philosophers, people that can identify between right and wrong. Just like the Wizengamot, different sects of people have different mentalities, and some of them just turn out worse, just like some of them turn out to be really good. Yes, muggles may be destructive, but they’re also constructive, just like myself and Tom Riddle. You can’t call them Other, spit on the muggleborn’s ancestry, and then complain when they find certain things outdated in the magical world.”
Neither of them spoke for the next few moments.
“Should I take your reaction as a No then?” Daphne asked. “For the meeting,” she clarified, seeing his confused gaze.
“Let me breathe for a second, Daphne,” he complained, and threw his head back in resignation. After several more seconds of waiting, he sighed again. “This meeting… What will it be about? What do these people expect of me?”
A small smile tore through her lips. This… It was for moments like this, that Daphne felt blessed that Sirius Black had broken out of Azkaban and made Harry his heir. Draco Malfoy would have never even considered her opinion, and instead, relegated her to the position of a trophy housewife. Not Harry. Even when he argued with her, he respected her views, and had the strength to at least accept a well-thought out argument instead of just ignoring it outright. And even when it was clear that he disagreed with her, he still respected her enough to attend this meeting and try to see things her way.
“At the moment, they just want to gauge you. I made it no secret that you were raised akin to a muggleborn, and staying with Weasley and Granger over the years has kept you insulated even further. Only this summer have you begun to see the greater world, and understand your position in our society. They’ve seen your power, they’ve seen you bring honour to your family name by achieving Nobility, and they have seen you donate close to half a million galleons to Hogwarts. Now, they want to see how you really think. And depending on how it turns out, some will want to ally with you, some will want to use you, and some will be wary of you.”
“An ally, an enemy, or a tool.” he surmised.
“Exactly.”
“And let me guess. All of this talk of muggles and… Hermione, it wasn’t to see how I’d react to such ideologies and inform me of how the other side thinks of things?”
Her smile widened. “No, that was just … how do you say it? Serendipitous?”
He rolled his eyes.
Daphne chuckled. “I’ll tell you that there will be some who are just curious. Like Raleigh Selwyn. Eleanor Burke is already part of the alliance, so she’ll obviously show up just to observe protocol if nothing else. Oh, and Blaise Zabini.”
Harry’s eyes flashed. “Zabini huh,” he said softly, and Daphne noticed how Delacour stiffened at the mention.
“Blaise said he would show up?” asked Delacour.
Daphne arched her brow. “He’s your brother, isn’t he? And you’re openly romancing my fiance at Hogwarts.”
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Fleur.
“Oui.”
Daphne pursed her lip, looking at her with a calculative expression. “Dysfunctional family. Should’ve seen that coming. Either way, Zabini mostly stays out of Malfoy’s circle, but I think he’s the real deal. Unlike Malfoy, he’s got fangs.”
The veela stayed silent.
“Would you… like to attend this meeting, Fleur?” Harry offered.
“I… shouldn’t,” she said. “Zis is a meeting between Lord Potter and children of other ‘Ouses. Rich families. I’m just an assistant professor in an unspoken relationship with you. I have no place there.”
“That isn’t what I’ve heard,” said Daphne. “House Delacour might not be Ancient, but it certainly doesn’t lack the finances. Or connections.”
“You know her family?” asked Harry, surprised.
Of course she did. Even without her open mention of it during the Wizengamot trial, Daphne would be foolish to not research someone that Harry considered significant to name and thank in his birthday party before some of the most well-known people in Wizarding Britain.
“Delacour’s a veela and… French, and like I said, she’s openly romancing you at Hogwarts. And yet, no one ever attacks her, verbally or otherwise. Why do you think that is?”
Delacour still stayed silent.
How interesting. Perhaps she could look further into this? She doubted that she’d get much information from Delacour. Blaise on the other hand…
Something to ponder about later.
“I doubt there’s anyone in Slytherin House whose parents don’t know exactly how crafty and deadly her mother can be,” Daphne finished.
“They aren’t wrong,” said Delacour in a low voice. “Maman is a real snake, and you have Blaise representing her. I ‘ave no place in there.”
Definitely dysfunctional.
“If you say so.” Daphne said, and looked at Harry. “I’ll talk to the others and set the meeting. How about this Sunday? After lunch?”
Her fiance shrugged. “I’ll let you deal with that.”
“Super,” said Daphne, and stepped forward and kissed him squarely on the lips. She put her hands over his shoulders and pulled him closer, pulling into a full-on snog, before a throaty cough from Delacour made him pull back.
Delacour scowled at her. It made her smile.
“But tell me something,” said Harry. “Do you think this meeting is really a good idea? I mean…. Isn’t all this moving too fast?”
Daphne cocked her head.
“Malfoy’s already attacked you once during the match. Even your so-called best friend Parkinson tried to stun you on his orders. If this meeting goes through, don’t you think you’ll attract even more attention from him?”
“Scared about me?” She teased.
“Yes.”
“Well,” she began, mostly because she had no idea how to respond to that statement. His bluntness had caught her off-guard. It didn’t help that seeing him being so direct about his feelings made her stomach flutter.
It had been the same back in the Chamber, when he had promised her he’d beat her curse, despite having no clue how to do it.
“Well,” she began again, deciding to focus on what she knew. A teasing smirk formed on her lips. “In that case, we just have to wait until our engagement is over. After that, you can officially demand your wife to stay with you, in your own room, husband.”
“Er,” he said, staring at her. “Um, Are you screwing with me?”
“We can, if you want,” she continued glibly, still smiling innocently, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure at the scowl on Delacour’s face. “As a wife to be, it would be my duty to serve my husband in every way they desire. My father raised me to be an ideal pureblood woman after all.”
“Errr…”
Daphne laughed openly at his embarrassment. That Delacour was giving him the murderous kitten look made it even better.
“You’re evil,” he said.
“I’ve been told so before,” she replied. “But I wasn’t joking, Harry. Married couples are, in fact, allowed private rooms at Hogwarts. And you’re a Warlock. Whatever, stop bothering about Malfoy. I have him exactly where I want him.”
Harry blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Remember the Quidditch match? Draco Malfoy thought that he could use me to get to you. That bastard attacked me in front of everyone to get to you. Did you think I’d just let it go?”
“Oh?” asked Harry. “What did you do?”
“For a Slytherin, Draco has all the traits of a Gryffindor. He never thinks before acting. He doesn’t care how much he’s escalating things, and he definitely doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body. The way he took advantage of the rules in the game spoke of a far more cunning mind than he’s capable of.”
“He did the same thing in Umbridge’s classroom.” Harry pointed out.
She shook her head. “Two different actions, Harry. The first was him being cunning. The second, pure recklessness. Someone else was doing his thinking for him, so I waited. And since Halloween, I have had my answer.”
Daphne held up a Prefect badge. “This one’s an exact copy of Draco’s badge. I tagged the original with an eavesdropping charm and connected it with this one using Sympathetic magic.”
His eyes went round in recognition. It was the same spell her father had used to connect the journals the two of them made from the Lair with the notebooks back at home and Black Manor. The principle was the same, only instead of the duplication charm, she was employing the listening charm.
Coupled with a powerful aversion ward to avoid anyone from giving much attention to the enchantment on the badge, and a compulsion charm for Malfoy to wear the badge almost at all times. That Malfoy was an arrogant git that relished his being a Prefect made it easier.
“Here,” she said. “Listen to this.”
She tapped it with her wand twice at two different spots, and a very familiar voice spoke out of it.
“...my point is that we don’t attack Potter. Not directly. Look at my last plan. It was a raging success. Potter dropped his chances for the snitch just to save Greengrass.”
Harry blinked. “That voice is… Cho?”
“Surprised?” asked Daphne, grinning ferally. “Your former crush is sleeping around with Malfoy. And she was the one that fed Draco the idea.”
“That stunt also cost me public humiliation, first at the end of Potter’s wand, and then in the House Assembly by Greengrass.”
This time, it was Malfoy. Sounds of heavy breathing were audible to everyone. Both Chang and Malfoy were exerting quite heavily.
So much about her supposed ‘love’ for Diggory.
“Yes, yes, I know all about that. We underestimated him. We didn’t know what lines he would or wouldn’t cross. But we do now, don’t we? We’ve seen his power, and now, we’ve seen him act politically. For fuck’s sake Malfoy, even Professor Umbridge has a better idea of what Potter can do.”
“Chang—”
“I’m not asking to do anything directly. Attacking Potter with spells will accomplish nothing. We have to go after those he cares for, and this time, we’ll operate from the shadows. Potter cannot retaliate if he doesn’t know exactly who’s gunning for him. And by the time he realises it, it will be too late. Potter’s the reason my plans with Cedric were torn asunder, so now Potter is going to give me the life I deserve. And you can make Greengrass your bitch, just like you deserve.”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair.
“I just… I’ve no idea what to think anymore. It’s like everyone’s gone crazy.”
Daphne snorted cruelly. “You should listen to some of the things Malfoy had to say. All his fantasies with Delacour, all his wet dreams about me, his perversions about locking Granger in a dungeon… his brain is a hormonal cesspool. No wonder he needs Chang to do his thinking for him.”
“What….” exhaled Harry. “What are you planning, Daphne?”
She grinned. “I’m a Slytherin, Harry. My retaliations aren’t precipitous or public. They are slow, contained and lethal. First I tore away his power in Slytherin House using your demonstration. And now I’m going to use Draco’s own plans to exact my revenge. And it. Will. Be. Glorious!”
“Do I even want to know?”
“Trust me,” promised Daphne. “Just sit back and enjoy. Now, fancy another duel?”
Comments
TigerSwarm9122
Damn now I’m even more intrigued to see what you have in mind for Malfoy. Whatever you do to that prick will be well deserved. But I ask this one thing: Make that ugly bird Chang hurt.
The BlackStaff and NightMarE
#Edited to add new stuff
