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ACT2CH32 - Lex Talionis
🕑 Added 2023-06-12 15:44:33 +0000 UTC“FURNUNCULUS! STUPEFY! TARANTALLEGRA!”
Daphne watched as Harry casually sidestepped each of the curses as soon as they were spoken. To her, and the entire class, it was like he had anticipated where the beams of light would strike before they had been fired, which was amazing. He was just casually walking between steps, as if filled with absolute certainty that none of the spells would even touch him.
And they didn’t.
As if to counter his reflexes, Malfoy yelled — “IMPEDIMENTA!”
This time Harry lifted his left foot and jogged to his right, and spun around, just in time to avoid a rupturing curse sent by Pansy, aimed for his new position.
“Sneaky, Parkinson,” Harry mocked. “I like it.”
“Stand still and I’ll show you,” Pansy promised.
“Already four on one, and you want me to stand still?” Harry sneered. “My, my, the Ministry is right. Hogwarts standards are falling. Maybe you should try the Slinkhard book. You might actually learn —”
“STUPEFY! INCARCEROUS!”
Harry paused, and sidestepped Malfoy’s curses again, yawning theatrically just to see the enraged look on the Slytherin’s face and then dodged three more streams of light that would have sent him hurling against the arena wall if they had hit him.
“Oh I’m sorry. Would it help if I blindfolded myself?”
There was absolutely no doubt in Daphne’s mind that Harry could take down Malfoy with a thought, but he wanted to embarrass the Slytherin, and that meant making it look like a hopeless play. After what the ferret had done in the Quidditch match, Daphne knew that Harry was aiming for a psychological victory.
It was amazing how he had orchestrated everything to end up this way. And the worst part? Malfoy had been the perpetrator of this duel, not him. Hell, the ponce had been the one to cast the first blow.
For the nth time, Daphne cursed Malfoy for opening his big fat mouth. If he hadn’t met Harry back in their first year, she’d have had him as her friend for all these years instead of having to watch him from afar.
“Keep smiling, Potter!” snarled Malfoy. “Have you forgotten how to use a wand?”
“Hem! Hem!” said Harry in a mockery of Umbridge. “Already forgotten, have you, Malfoy? A wand is a dangerous tool, only to be used against extreme danger. You’re like a puppy that’s been kicked too many times and — Oh!”
He sidestepped, just in time to avoid a bludgeoning curse. This one from Pansy again. Daphne noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were just holding their wands, and looking confused, unsure where to fire at.
“Naughty, naughty!” Harry chided, wagging a finger.
Whatever training he had undergone with Sirius Black in the summer, it had worked. Daphne had always known that Harry had power, but his reflexes were quite literally at a different level. It was like he knew, no, he truly believed that he was in absolutely no danger from these people.
“Say, fellas, it’s been pretty entertaining and,” he paused, twisting out of another curse. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shot. May I?”
Malfoy sneered and fell into a mock bow, trying to save face. Harry thanked him and then pointed his wand at his general direction. Instantly, Malfoy was on the backfoot, as a silvery layer of protection formed around him. Pansy formed one just after, but hers was flimsier and looked like it was about to flicker any moment. Daphne saw him mutter something under his breath as a pale bluish curse erupted out of his wand, and before anybody realised it, Malfoy’s hair had turned blazing pink.
Half the class cheered in laughter and Malfoy whispered insults at Harry. He looked utterly ready to kill, but Harry never gave him the chance as he fired his next shot. Again, it bypassed the shields and this time, changed Malfoy’s skin to a sickly yellow. A third one altered his school robes into a tight, revealing summer dress without changing the fabric, and this time, the entire class lost it, including Daphne.
“HOW IS HE DOING THIS?” demanded the ponce.
“Tut! Tut!” said Harry, “you really should pay more attention to magical theory, you know. Lesson number One. The Protego shield only protects you from harm. None of my spells were aimed to harm you.” He craned his neck backward towards the fuming professor. “See, Madam Umbridge? Even your chosen students don’t pay attention to Slinkhard’s text. How infuriating it must be!”
Said professor had just managed to pull herself back up from the ground, and was staring at the violence all around with bleaky eyes, her mouth opening and closing but with no words coming out. Some defence teacher she was, Daphne scoffed. The worst part? Her wand was lost somewhere in the debris, and all she could do was crawl away from the spellfire.
Daphne looked at Pansy whose shield had already dissipated, only for Harry to bind her with her own clothes. Crabbe was down on the floor, trying to stand up, while Goyle had dropped his wand, and couldn’t stop dancing. Malfoy was the only one still standing, wand in hand.
“Damn it, Potter!” growled Malfoy. “Duel me like a man!”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Really, after all this, you still want me to take you seriously?”
“If you know how!” Malfoy sneered. “No real spell will get through my shields.”
Daphne arched an eyebrow. Had Draco been getting summer tutoring? He was hardly the best at duelling by any means.
Harry smiled dangerously. “You sure? Last chance to surrender.”
Malfoy’s face twisted into a familiar sneer. Trust Draco to consider it an empty threat. At least he still had his wand pointing at Harry.
With a shrug, Harry twirled his wand in his fingers before pointing at Malfoy. The silver protego shone brightly between them, and even Daphne had to grudgingly agree that he had the shield down pat. Even her own shields tended to become transparent from time to time instead of the solid layer of silver that Draco’s boasted.
Then Harry flicked his wand.
Faster than Daphne could even perceive, something colourless sprang through the air, and collided with the shield. There was no sound, no force and no pressure. Just one moment, Harry was flicking his wand and the next, Draco’s shield exploded inward, bodily lifting Draco and hurling him by several feet.
The entire room fell silent.
“Lesson number two. In a duel, let your wand do the talking, no matter what your mouth wants.”
Daphne snorted aloud. “Give up, Draco. You’re only humiliating yourself.”
Draco pushed himself back up and slowly trudged back to Pansy, and whispered something in her ear. Pansy looked a little surprised, and conflicted, but nodded.
“Think you’re strong, eh, Potter?” Draco sneered, and Daphne had the sudden feeling that something was about to happen.
“Let’s see you dodge this!”
“SANGUINIFERVEO!” “STUPEFY!”
Daphne felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she saw Pansy twist, mid-casting, and launch the stunning spell at her, while Malfoy cast the blood-boiling curse at Harry. Daphne was already in the middle of casting a protego, but the stunner flew through the air like a streak of crimson lightning…
And it was caught.
Harry sighed, in what sounded like a bizarre combination of amusement and anger, as a mist-like greyish shield formed around Daphne, disintegrating the stunner upon impact. Daphne’s eyes widened as Malfoy’s blood boiling curse spiralled through the air, only to halt in contact with Harry’s wand tip.
And then it faded to nothingness.
“Please,” he said blithely. “It wouldn’t even have worked, but it's very aggravating that you tried.” Despite his casual tone, the air around him had changed, and Daphne feared that in his harebrained attempt to distract Harry, Malfoy had pushed things a bit too far. That he had attacked her, again, to distract Harry only made it worse.
Daphne fisted her hands. Draco would get his due. And soon.
“I understand you want to take your frustrations out of me, Malfoy,” said Harry in a deathly cold tone. “All these years, you parade about as the Heir Black. All these years, you played Daddy’s spoiled brat card with no one to tell you any better. And then someone like me arrives, tears your dreams of being Lord Black asunder, and gets the girl you’ve always paraded as your own…. I understand. Maybe you feel betrayed. You want to hurt something. You want to scream to the heavens that it’s not your fault. But…”
Daphne waited for the bomb to drop.
“You attacked Daphne. You attacked the person I care for. All because of your childish tantrum. And that, my friend, is unforgivable.”
Something malevolent shone in his green eyes.
“And I’m afraid I have to take it very, very seriously.”
And then he raised his wand, and performed a complex wand movement. And then he spoke some very familiar words. Loudly.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
This wasn’t the first time that Daphne was seeing him cast a patronus. The first time was during the quidditch match when he had blasted Malfoy and his cohorts using patronus mist back in third year. The next time she had seen him cast it was in the large screens that showcased the events happening inside the maze. However, it was a blurry image at best. She had also seen the memory of his first casting, when he had used to fight against a hundred dementors.
This was the first time she was seeing him cast face to face.
She was ready to be surprised. And mesmerised.
But what came out of the wand was….
Horrifying.
The creature that burst out of his wand seemed more like a hodgepodge of different creature parts than one singular entity. It definitely had the four limbs of a stag and was about the same height, but its upper portions constantly disintegrated and reformed into a myriad of shapes. Emerged in all its gruesome glory, the jet-black mist-fiend was a twisted parody of a patronus, exuding fumes of greyish mist. The wrongness emanating out of its frame was a physical thing, and Daphne had to use every bit of her Occlumency not to immediately throw up.
Harry didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to say anything else. This malevolent entity’s intent was clear from its sheer presence, leaking out of it in monochromatic fumes, bared for all to see.
Draco was no longer smiling.
Daphne garnered a quick look at the rest of the hall, and half the students had already fallen down to the floor, crawling away like fearful rodents at the sight of a predator, while others were recoiling at the sight of this impossibility that stood before them.
…WEakSOuLsTasTElOveLY…
Daphne blinked. She hadn’t imagined that, had she?
“Monster! Mon — Monster!” Umbridge squeaked. “MONSTER! POTTER! POTTER YOU’RE A —”
The creature reared back and looked at Umbridge. Just looked. And the poor woman’s eyes rolled up her head and she dropped down, unconscious.
Only then did Harry speak.
“Protect her.”
There was no need to mention who ‘her’ was. Neither for Daphne, nor for this creature. It slowly trudged through the floor, and stood before her, its face facing away from her towards Malfoy and Parkinson, who looked ready to bolt.
“Are you alright?” asked Harry.
It took Daphne a few moments to realise that he was in fact, speaking to her.
She nodded, if barely.
“Some best friend you have,” he said, the concern in his voice replaced by scorn. “She didn’t even hesitate to fire a stunner.”
“Yes,” said Daphne, feeling hollow inside as she stared at Pansy, as if looking at her for the first time. “I am only realising that.”
Pansy did not look back at her, she was already too terrified of her ghastly protector, if the way her wand was shaking was any clue. Even Malfoy was sweating buckets. Crabbe and Goyle, bless their bootlicker souls, were still raising their wands, and hadn’t bolted off already.
“Now then,” said Harry, as if he had just poured tea for his guests and not materialised a ghastly demon into existence. “Shall we continue?”
Daphne could have snorted. Neither Malfoy nor Parkinson looked like they were in any state to continue the duel. No one was going to buy Harry’s gentle reassurance, not when he had manifested this primal, twisted hunger from some primordial pit of chaos, a manifestation of everything that made prehistoric man hide in caves around the fire, so he wouldn’t have to face the dark.
“Don’t worry,” said Harry amiably. “It wouldn’t hurt you. At least, not until you attack Daphne. In that event, I should warn you that it’ll kill you. No either or. One wisp of those fumes and you’re deader than dead. Just like the ones in the cemetery.”
Still, no one moved.
For a moment, Daphne was back at the Chamber of Secrets, her mind replaying the moment when Harry sat before her, his hands gripping her arms. She remembered his words, remembered the promise he had made.
I’m Death’s Avatar, he had said. There is no magic, Family or otherwise, that Death cannot undo.
Seeing the twisted patronus stand guard before her, Daphne began to believe that she just might have a chance. This — this thing was something that was born to kill, to devour souls and magic and life and revert this world into a cold, dusty plain, devoid of life. And yet here it was, standing before her, like a living thing, protecting her.
Death was protecting her, just like he had ordered it to.
In the meantime, as if he hadn't already shattered their expectations, Harry started walking forward.Something about it triggered them to action, for Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle began hurling curses right, left and centre at him. Even Malfoy, who looked utterly terrified, soon joined the group. Daphne watched as Harry casually batted the spells aside with flicks of his wand, reminding her of her dad’s tales of watching Grindelwald fight. The way he had held the entire force of MACUSA at bay with just spell deflection was nothing short of legendary, and Harry was demonstrating something similar, albeit on a smaller scale.
She watched as Harry deflected Malfoy’s stunner at Goyle, dropping him with one hit, before taking Crabbe’s spell — an asphyxiation curse, and reflecting it back at him, before taking Pansy’s blasting curse at deflecting it at Draco, aimed for his groyne.
Malfoy didn’t get up after that.
That just left Pansy, who was stuck between pointing her wand shakily at him and staring at him in terror.
And as if Harry hadn’t already shattered all of Pansy’s beliefs about Malfoy’s superiority, he began to saunter towards her, a wolf stalking towards a wounded, cornered rabbit.
“Stay! Stay away!” said Pansy. “DIFFINDO!”
Harry batted it away without a care in the world.
“REDUCTO! EXPELLIARMUS! FURNUNCULUS!”
It didn’t even pause his stride. He kept walking towards her, casually disintegrating spells and batting away the weaker ones until he was standing inches away from her, his green eyes drilling into her brown ones.
Daphne swallowed.
“Tell me Parkinson,” said Harry. “Do you think you can make a hit this close? Or would you like to step aside?”
The clinical and polite, friendly tone in which his words had been delivered chilled Daphne’s core. She looked at Pansy’s terrified expression, and then at her wand that was slowly slipping through her fingers as it dropped upon the floor and rolled aside.
“Thank you,” said Harry in that same tone. It was like he was making conversation with an old friend he had not met in a while, and not threatening his opponent to stand down in a duel. It told Daphne that if he had to kill Pansy, or humiliate her, it would be done with no fuss whatsoever, not unlike squishing an ant.
And it was remarkably effective.
“Lesson number three” he said, levelling his wand at Malfoy. “Know when you’re beaten.”
“In your dreams, you filthy half-blood!” Malfoy spat, shaking as he stood up, trying to focus his wand at Harry.
“I assure you, you’re not part of my dreams. You’re too cowardly and ferret-like for that.”
Draco responded to that with a stunner, which Harry carelessly swatted aside. With another flick, the blonde ferret was disarmed.
And then Harry took another step forward. “You know, for a member of the House of Cunning, you’re not exactly very sharp.”
Harry leaned forward, his expression cold and distant. “I do not find pleasure in tormenting others like you, Draco Malfoy. Neither do I enjoy hurting other people, even those who obviously deserve it.”
“But.” He inched closer. “That does not mean you’re anything more than an insect that I can squash under my feet if it pleases me. Remember that next time before you take a shot at those I care about. Remember, you are nothing. Cross me at your own peril if you must, but if you so much as look at my loved ones the wrong way, I’ll teach you pain.”
Daphne shuddered at the coldness in his voice. It was nothing short of terrifying. For a moment, she wondered if in trying to kill him again and again, the Dark Lord had inadvertently crafted an enemy just as terrifying as himself. We create our own demons, her father often said, and right there, Harry Potter looked every inch of the demon that even lord Voldemort would fear someday.
“Now let me see if I remember this right,” said Harry. “You wanted to show me exactly how superior this class has made you. I guess, you’ll just have to admit your inferiority and end this charade. Tell me Draco, are you ready to bow and accept your inferiority?”
Draco looked positively murderous. Despite the pain, he managed to stand up, and raise his wand. “I’m a pureblood, Potter! “There’s no way I will—”
“I said, bow!”
Daphne watched with growing trepidation as Draco’s spine curved, as though a huge, invisible hand was bending him ruthlessly forward. For a moment, she thought she saw something in Harry’s eyes, before his face went completely blank, and he dissipated the spell. Daphne didn’t know exactly what had just happened, but that very act seemed to have left Harry shaken.
Daphne saw the spell lift and Draco collapsed down to the floor. Daphne met Harry’s shaken gaze, and found a growing fear within them. He grabbed his bag and hastily walked out of the door.
….
….
….
The incident in the Defence classroom had sent the entire room into upheaval. By lunch, there wasn’t a single soul in the school that hadn’t heard of it. Students had been clamouring, demanding to know from others what had happened, and not even the teachers threatening them with detention or point loss had worked.
That was how, late that evening, Slytherin House declared its Assembly open.
The Slytherin House Assembly was a reflection of the Wizarding world’s political hierarchy. An adherence to pureblood culture and wizarding traditions was one of the core tenets of Slytherin House and its hierarchy reflected that from the very grass root level. Shaped in the same structure as the Wizengamot, the Assembly had the Nobility on top, and the halfbloods and the occasional muggle born at the bottom of the food chain. The Seventh-year prefects served the role of the Chief Warlock, and after listening to arguments from all sides, meted out a sentence that every Slytherin was obligated to follow. The fifth and sixth year prefects acted as spokesperson to the other students, unless they were confident enough to make their own arguments in front of the entire Assembly. Should a student go against the rule mandated by the Assembly, he or she would become an outcast within the House.
Daphne looked around at the familiar faces seated around the table. Wilkes, Gibbon, Rowle, Malfoy, Burke and Rosier were all Ancient families, with hereditary seats in the Wizengamot. Crabbe, Goyle, Jugson, Avery, Bulstrode, Carrow and Parkinson held Wizengamot formal seats but were minor Houses. Yaxley, McNair, Dolohov and Travers had members working as Department Heads in the Ministry, and had a single, albeit temporary Wizengamot seat each. Zabini was technically a foreigner, but with considerable influence in the international waters, so most students in Slytherin gave him a wide berth. And finally, her own House Greengrass, along with Nott, Selwyn and Black, were the only Noble ones and enjoyed the highest authority, something that Draco had been using to his benefit over the years.
‘Had’ being the keyword here.
She glanced at Elizabeth Rosier and Rowan Haywood — the current seventh year prefects, who were presiding over this session. The sixth year prefects were charged with maintaining decorum inside the Assembly.
“Thank you for attending today’s gathering on such short notice,” said Rowan. “If I might, I’d like to dispense with the usual verbal thrust and parry. I’ll not waste time, and we have a single item on our agenda. The recent shifts in political hierarchy in and out of the school, especially involving House Black, Potter and Greengrass, and the unified response that Slytherin House shall have over it.”
Translation — they were curious and scared of Harry’s public demonstration, and wanted Daphne to shed light on the Boy-Who-Lived’s agenda, especially in light of their recent betrothal and his open shaming of Umbridge and the Ministry’s agenda.
He met Daphne’s gaze. “I think it’s for the best that we allow the main person involved in these changes to speak of them first. With that, I leave the floor to Miss Daphne Greengrass.”
“You’re wrong, Haywood,” drawled Draco, standing up and sauntering into the centre of the stage, ignoring the obvious breach of decorum. “You’re forgetting the most important item on the agenda.”
Haywood raised an eyebrow. “That being?”
“A unanimous vote for Slytherin House to stand in league with the Dark Lord.”
Daphne rolled her eyes as she regarded Malfoy, standing in front of the seventh-years, his chest puffed up in self-importance. It was like he thought that if he pretended everything was hunky-dory, everyone would forget the hilarious and humiliating defeat Harry had meted out to him in front of the entire fifth year. Daphne had no doubt that fear-mongering using the Dark Lord’s name was Malfoy’s way of trying to exert dominance on others. Daphne would have called it cunning, if it wasn’t overshadowed by his boisterousness and cavalier attitude towards potential retaliation.
Exhibit… like F, just entered into evidence.
“Stand in league with the Dark Lord…” murmured Elizabeth ‘Elize’ Rosier. “Please expound on that, heir Malfoy.”
Daphne almost smiled. Elizabeth was one of the saner people in the House, and a quintessential Rosier. Profit above all else — was the Rosier motto, or at least, what it should have. One of the prerequisites of being profitable in every situation was to maintain a level head and consider every part of the situation from a neutral angle, and Elizabeth was a natural at that. It was why their family was part of the Neutral faction, alongside the Greengrass and Selwyn families.
“With the Dark Lord’s return, it is for the best that we confirm our allegiances to him,” said Malfoy proudly. “When He prevails and conquers the Ministry, those that stand with him shall be rewarded.”
What simplistic logic! As if conquering a nation was like playing a game of chess. Sit down one fine afternoon, and be done with it in an hour or two.
She glanced at the audience, specifically at how several of them wilted at the mention of the Dark Lord. Repressing the urge to just smack Malfoy’s face, she cleared her throat and stepped forward.
“I believe it would be beneficial to speak of the former first before we come to a decision about the latter.”
Berthilda Avery’s plucked eyebrows rose. “What could possibly be more important than anything to do with the Dark Lord?”
“Indulge me,” said Daphne, in a tone of cold steel that told everyone in the room it was an order not a request. As a member of the highest ranking Houses in the Wizengamot, Daphne commanded a wide berth from everyone in Slytherin House. It was just that with her marriage contract with Draco, she had allowed him free rein. With two Noble Houses — Black and Greengrass under his command, and exercising the political control that his father held over the Ministry, Draco had acted like he was some kind of Slytherin ‘Prince’.
Daphne knew Lucius Malfoy very well, having seen him operate up close. But for all of his ruthlessness and political expertise, and all of Narcissa Malfoy’s famed Black heritage, neither had been able to keep Draco from growing into a twisted facsimile of his father. He was too hung on his father’s tales of wealth, power and being a feared Death Eater, and acted like the power was already his.
A power that he still did not believe he had lost. With Sirius Black becoming the Lord and making Harry his heir, the entire political structure had shifted. With Harry’s recent stunt with the press proclaiming their engagement, the power had shifted to Daphne’s hands. Where she had previously allowed Malfoy to play King, the power of House Black and Greengrass now rested in her hands, as far as Slytherin House was concerned.
“We all knew that Lord Sirius Black was the rightful heir by blood, magic and law,” Daphne began. “And his record as a Hit-wizard is rather legendary. Ernie Macmillan practically worships the man.”
Several people rolled their eyes at that.
“And given how he has made his godson Harry Potter, as his official heir, only shows that he won’t be standing in support of the Dark Lord, if and when he rises.”
Draco let out a cold, cruel laugh. “Such naivety doesn’t suit you, Greengrass. The Dark Lord has already revealed himself to his followers.”
Daphne regarded him like a magizoologist peering at a particularly interesting specimen. “And are you his follower, Draco? Has he branded you like cattle yet?”
Draco bristled.
“Also, Malfoy, Harry will be pleased to know that you believe him. For the rest of us, all we know is that Harry was kidnapped on the night of the Third task, by thirteen people playing Death Eaters, who ended up dead.”
Enraged whispers ran abound in the audience.
“Now, my family has always taken a neutral approach, so I do not consider myself an expert on this. But I happen to know that the DMLE has made extensive searches on the properties of the people found dead that night, and none of those properties showed any signs of the Dark Lord residing there. So unless you’re sheltering the man in your own manor, I suggest you stop that argument while you still can.”
Draco looked like he had just swallowed a bad egg.
“And plus, for the child of a man that claimed to only act under the Imperius, you’re acting a little too vocal, Heir Malfoy. Perhaps I should ask Uncle Lucius if he agrees with your views?”
“Greengrass,” said Elizabeth. “You’re digressing.”
“Sorry Elize,” said Daphne. “I was just caught off-guard by Draco’s hypocrisy. My apologies for letting it get to me.”
Judging from the way more than a few present members were speaking to each other, Daphne wasn’t the only one feeling that sentiment.
“But the House of Black has always supported the Dark Lord,” claimed Corliss Gibbon. He wilted slightly as the attention fell on him. “I mean, that’s what my father said.”
“It’s an incorrect, or rather, inadequate statement, Gibbon,” Daphne pointed out calmly. “Lord Arcturus Black never took the Mark, and neither did his son and acting Lord, Orion Black. Orion Black’s wife Walburga on the other hand, was a supporter, though whether she took the Mark or not is questionable. And that he kept Sirius Black as his heir despite his opposing stance speaks volumes, doesn’t it?”
“It’s rather disappointing for a House of that pedigree to fall into the old coot’s snare,” Byron Yaxley began.
“I doubt that,” Daphne said, gesturing to Yaxley to stop. “House Black and House Potter have taken a neutral stance, and joined hands with House Greengrass. And unless you’re really behind on the news, House Bones, Longbottom and Burke have offered to formally join our alliance. All those houses have their own separate coalitions as well. So if anything, we wish to become a new centre at the Wizengamot, and follow an agenda of egalitarianism, with respect for all pureblood tradition and protocol, rather than supporting Dumbledore and his pro-muggleborn stance, or the Dark Lord, and his extremist stance on the eradication of everything that is not of pure blood.”
Raleigh Selwyn snorted. “And we’re supposed to believe that? The Gryffindor Golden Boy not following Dumbledore? He hates Slytherins. Everyone knows that.”
Daphne arched an eyebrow and looked at Pansy, who quickly looked away. Her former best friend had fallen into the same trap before and from the scowl in her face, she knew what was about to happen.
“Say, Selwyn. When has my fiance Harry Potter ever initiated any kind of attack, verbal, physical, magical or political, against any Slytherin?”
Draco let out a contemptuous snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Potter has been after me right from the very first day at Hogwarts! Just look at what he did today.”
“Yes, he taught you a lesson,” Daphne retorted. “Don’t try to fool us, Malfoy. Harry encountered you at Madam Malkin’s for the first time, and you insulted his parentage, albeit obliviously. In your second meeting in the train, you glibly insulted his newest associate Ron Weasley and he rejected your offer. Since then, you have constantly been on his case, trying to get him into trouble. Any and all escalation from his side has been a response, not an initiation. Like, today.”
“Daphne,” asked Elize, “even if what you say is right. Harry Potter has never once demonstrated any liking for pureblood protocol. I can understand Malfoy’s antagonism did not help matters, but you have to agree that Potter did not initiate anything constructive either.”
Daphne frowned. She doubted Harry would like her to speak of this out loud but it was necessary, but catering to the purebloods implicit bias against muggles would be the easiest way to win their support. “Harry has… confided in me that he did not have the best upbringing. He was placed by Albus Dumbledore with magic-hating muggles, and… I’ve reason to believe that they… tortured him for being magical.”
Harry hadn’t used the word tortured, but this would be the easiest way to convince them that Harry wasn’t against them, or at the very least, would be open to their agenda.
“Abused?” Rowle looked horrified.
“Of course they would!” Edith Wilkes muttered darkly. “They are filthy muggles. What else do you expect them to do?”
“Before coming to Hogwarts, he knew nothing of magic, no matter what those Boy-Who-Lived stories we’ve read and enjoyed as a kid claimed. For all intents and purposes, he’s a muggle born that got thrust into our world with everyone painting him in their own perception.”
“Really?” asked Dennis Travers. “And he somehow got joined in at the hip with the Weasleys? They are Dumbledore’s biggest supporters.”
Daphne shrugged. “That I cannot say. Dumbledore sent the gamekeeper with his Hogwarts letter. It is possible that Hagrid might have… embellished Dumbledore’s image before the impressionable eleven-year-old. I mean, a magical giant coming in, saving a kid from his abusive relatives. If it were me, I’d believe whatever crap came out of their mouth.”
Elize snorted.
“I’m not saying that my fiance is perfect, or that he’s utterly innocent in all this. But in his defence, he had no one to tell him better. In fact, for the last four years, he believed that his trust vault at Gringotts was all his parents left to him. He didn’t even know anything about the Ancient House of Potter, his connection to House Greengrass, or about our political system.”
“What about his status as the Boy-Who-Lived?” asked Haywood.
Daphne chuckled. “Honestly, he thinks of it as a big joke. In fact, when asked about it, he claimed that he’d like to follow his father’s footsteps and become a professional Quidditch player. At least then, he’d be famous for something he did and not for some fluke that happened when he was a babe.”
“So Potter’s an ignorant goody-two-shoes, I fail to see what this has to do with anything,” Malfoy stated impatiently.
“Are you an idiot, Malfoy?” asked Nott. “The Boy-Who-Lived is one of the polarising influences in our world. You can’t tell me that knowing what he thinks is useless. Especially after today.”
Malfoy growled impotently.
Jugson, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle flushed.
Daphne rolled her eyes. Given the scale of the smackdown, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than others.
“Harry came into his power this summer. He ascended to the mantle of the Lord of House Potter, and through his ability to channel the Family Magic of the House of Peverell, he was able to ascend his House to Nobility status. As per Wizengamot Daily, he is the first person to do so in eight hundred and sixty years. He acknowledged his blood connection with House Greengrass, and upon intimation, visited my family manor. Because of a number of personal reasons, he agreed to be betrothed to me, and upon culmination, he will be Lord Greengrass. And since then, he has done his level best to maintain proper decorum as per the traditions.”
She looked at Rosier. “Does that adequately quench your worries, Elize?”
She nodded.
“So what?” Malfoy demanded. He looked five seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum. “All Potter had so far were those penniless Weasleys and he gets a standing offer from one of the richest families in the country to marry a pureblood woman of pedigree higher than he can imagine. What’s so surprising about that?”
Selwyn coughed. “It means that unlike last time, the choices aren’t just the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. The Neutral faction under the banner of the Boy-Who-Lived will also be available.”
“You’re talking about betraying the Dark Lord!” Malfoy growled.
“Betray?” asked Rowan. “Grow up Malfoy. None of us know for sure exactly what’s going on with the Dark Lord. We don’t even know for sure if he’s even back. None of our parents had any comment about it, and the ones that could tell are dead.”
“Maybe Draco’s dad told him something?” asked Millie Bulstrode.
“Regardless,” said Theodore Nott, standing up. “Potter might not have a choice but to ally himself with Dumbledore if and when the Dark Lord comes for him.”
“And that’s where my second point begins,” said Daphne with a smile. “The Dark Lord’s unhealthy fascination with my fiance and his subjugative policies against Wizarding Britain.”
“Well bugger it!” claimed Thomas Jugson. “I say all of this is just nonsense. When the Dark Lord comes for Potter and Black, he’ll end them. Once he’s back in power, we can do what we want.”
“Are you saying he’s back?” asked Travers.
“No,” Jugson backpedalled. “I mean if Malfoy’s claiming he’s back then…”
Daphne regarded him coolly. "Jugson, Do you think the Dark Lord will let us do whatever we want? Does everyone else also think the same?”
“You’ve some nerve questioning the Dark Lord, Greengrass,” Jugson said, stabbing a finger in her direction. “Maybe spreading your legs for Potter has gotten too much Gryffindor pumped into you.”
Several among the audience cackled.
“Well, if I haven’t, I will. I am to be his wife, after all,” Daphne said proudly. Harry had demonstrated how powerful he was before everyone else. As his future wife, it was up to her to maintain his standing before others. Still, his inchoate comment deserved a response in the same vein.
“At least I can make a stand for something. And if the rumours are correct, yours can barely stand.”
Jugson went purple.
Smirking, Daphne regarded the rest of the assembly. “I’m not an expert. But my father has a saying. People like the Dark Lord do not share power. So yes, if the Dark Lord takes over our world, everyone will do what he wants.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” demanded Malfoy.
Not for the first time, Daphne wondered exactly why Malfoy was placed in Slytherin House. He certainly did not have ambition beyond trying to feed his ego by flaunting his fathers name and the superiority he felt it brought him. He had no political acumen and spent more time destroying potential coalitions with other Houses through his tantrums than forging new ones. Intellectually, he stood a middle ground — enough not to be considered a dimwit but not at the top either. Power wise, he was above-average at best, and had the charm and subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
The only Slytherin values he had inculcated was his ruthlessness. Draco operated under tunnel vision, but his plans were often shafted aside by his inability to locate or mitigate potential avenues that could lead to his plans falling apart, sometimes backfiring in the most spectacular ways. Daphne agreed that he was big on traditions and pureblood culture, but it was slowly shifting towards bigotry and narrow mindedness. A contagious thing, given it had affected Pansy too.
“Tell me, Malfoy. Tell me, everyone!” said Daphne politely. “Why did people follow the Dark Lord? Because he was a supporter of pureblood supremacy? I don’t think there’s anyone here that hasn’t heard of his real name. Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of a squib and a muggle. I find it hilarious that Malfoy here fanatically espouses the Dark Lord’s agenda while despising Hermione Granger for being a mudblood.”
She let that one hang for a moment.
“Open your eyes, people. Look at the statistics! Over half of our pureblood families perished in the war. Mudbloods will always keep coming into our world. But purebloods? One war, and we’re already down to less than half.”
“They were blood traitors.” Draco claimed. “They deserved to die.”
“They were purebloods, who refused to bow down to a mudblood pretending to be the champion of pureblood supremacy. Face it, we have been hoodwinked. Because the way I see it, Harry Potter is the first person in close to a millennia that has ascended with a Family Magic. It’s an achievement among achievements, for which he’d be awarded with an Order of Merlin, Second Class during Yule. He managed to cast a corporeal Patronus at thirteen, and won the prestigious Triwizard tournament despite facing NEWT-level students. And to those of us that believe in the myth of the Boy-Who-Lived, he managed to vanquish a Dark Lord as a baby. If the Dark Lord truly believes in pureblood supremacy and respects our traditions, he should hail Harry Potter as a success for wizardkind. But will he? No. Instead he keeps trying to kill him. Wonder what says about his agenda!”
Malfoy glowered at her. “You’re heading down a traitorous path.”
“I’m sorry,” Daphne drawled. ‘I didn’t realise that not being a bootlicker was equivalent to being a traitor these days.”
“Despite his parentage,” said Gibbon. “The Dark Lord is the heir of Slytherin. That remains uncontested.”
This time Daphne snorted. Audibly. “We all know that there was no House of Slytherin. Salazar descended from the Gaunts, and Tom Marvolo Riddle, Draco’s vaunted Dark Lord, was the offspring of squib Merope Gaunt and muggle Tom Riddle.”
Several people whispered furiously at that.
“Even so, the Dark Lord is no Heir of Slytherin. Yes, he can speak Parseltongue. But so can Harry Potter. Yes, he found the illusive Chamber of Secrets when he was a student in this very school and unleashed the horror within. Harry Potter too found the chamber, at mere twelve years of age, and killed the horror within.” She paused for effect. “ I saw it, you know. It was over seventy feet long. He killed it when he was twelve.
The outcry was immediate.
“Lies!” claimed Yaxley. “This is preposterous.”
“Don’t raise your voice, Yaxley,” said Daphne. “Improve your argument. Harry has shown me the memory of his battle against the basilisk. And just in case you’re still in denial, chew on this. My father has settled on a deal with Professor Dumbledore. He will hire experts to follow Harry into the Chamber, harvest the basilisk, and if possible, see if there are any lost works inside the Chamber that can be deciphered. The ten percent my dad is getting for its extraction and sales alone is worth several hundred thousand galleons.”
That shut everybody up.
“Yes, Harry Potter is a Gryffindor. Right down to the heart. But he’s also a visionary. He did not stop at achieving the status of Warlock, which alone would classify as being an epitome of ambition in Slytherin House. No, when asked about it, he said that he wishes to take his discovery and become a craftsman of his new brand of magic. That’s what a true wizard does. And Malfoy wants us to bend before the whims of a mudblood psychopath that wants to murder him.”
Draco contented himself with glowering at her.
“I’ve spent reasonable time with him, my fellow Slytherins,” said Daphne earnestly. “And trust me, Harry Potter understands his faults more than most, and is amenable to advice and suggestions if offered in the right context. He is firm, but he is not unbendable. And I sincerely hope that today’s performance has shown that he is powerful and far more skilled than most of us would want to believe.”
There was no deception in her voice. Daphne hoped that the others would see it for what it was and not an advertisement in support for her fiance.
“You’re talking about abandoning the Dark Lord,” said Draco.
“No,” said Nott. “The only person talking about that is you, Malfoy. Greengrass is… just showing us an alternative. Slytherins are supposed to make informed choices, not follow the herd.”
Which meant Theodore was onboard. Nice.
“I agree,” said Elize. Haywood, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Rowle and surprisingly, Zabini nodded as well.
“Tell us, Greengrass,” said Raliegh Selwyn. “Is this your own stance… or does your father support this as well?”
What he was truly asking was if she was being a love-struck fool singing Potter’s praises, or if this was the official stance of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass.
“They are the one and the same, Raleigh. If you want clarification, surely you can send him a letter? I know you’ve exchanged words with my father directly before.”
The seventh year nodded.
Daphne looked at the audience, and found several of them giving each other uncomfortable looks and whispering. Whatever the outcome of this Assembly might be, it would definitely not go against her favour. She looked at the glower Draco was sending her, and felt mightily pleased. She had destroyed any and all political support he could have gained. Even if she could get Nott, Rowle, Rosier and Selwyn on her side, it’d shift the House opinion in her favour.
A small smile spread across her face. For all his talk, Draco was a rash coward. A worse match couldn’t have been made in hell. Twice now, he had attacked her to get to Harry. Harry had broken and humiliated him in public, and now she would wreck his political support. She’d take away everything, his position, his supporters, and even Parkinson away from him, leaving Draco with nothing.
Unlike a Gryffindor, a Slytherin always struck from the shadows, attacking her opponent’s greatest weakness with extreme prejudice.
She could only hope that Draco would survive at the end of it.
Comments
The BlackStaff and NightMarE
Edited. Thanks for noticing.
Brian Comston
“Indulge me,” said Daphne, in a tone of cold steel that told everyone in the room it was not an order but a request. I think you have the order of words reversed. Personally it makes more sense to say it was not a request but an order. Jugson, Do you think the Dark Lord will let us do whatever we want? Does everyone else also think the same?” Missing the beginning quotation. Draco was sending her, and felt mightily pleased. had destroyed any and all political support he could have gained. Missing the word She after the period.
Brian Comston
A few errors I noticed and thought you might want to know about before it gets posted to fanfiction.net:
