Chapter 3

Harry continued training every night in earnest over the next six months, also maintaining his twice-a-week sessions with Flitwick. He rapidly improved, as did his understanding of magical theory, which allowed him to begin engaging in more difficult spells. Three months after Christmas, Harry was finally beginning to understand the two books he'd taken from the library.

He made a concerted effort to get to know Daphne better, despite her obvious attempts at avoidance. He eventually learned her birthday was August nineteenth. He didn't get much else from her, but it was enough to decide the next charm she would receive on her birthday.

Snape was as vicious as ever, constantly degrading him and taking points at every opportunity. Draco was still a ponce, and made sure Harry knew it at each encounter, always espousing how Harry was the Golden Boy. There was an adventure involving Hagrid, a baby dragon (which quickly out-grew its baby status), Ron, and Draco. It landed the three boys in detention, but Ron and Harry did manage to get the dragon to safety through Ron's older brother, Charlie.

Their trek through the Forbidden Forest drew plenty of discussion, considering Harry came face to face with a possessed Quirrell (though he didn't know it at the time) who was lovingly drinking the blood of a recently killed unicorn. The spider-crawl 'Quildemort' performed when he noticed Harry and Fang standing there looked like something straight out of a muggle horror-movie and caused several of the younger students to shriek in terror.

Thankfully, Harry was saved a gruesome death by Firenze, the centaur, who aided Harry in getting back to Hagrid. Draco had long since turned tail and fled. Coward.

Starting in March, Harry began actively practicing runes and wards in his dorm, namely sound suppression and barriers. He was immediately hooked and took to the subjects like a fish to water. One evening, he forgot to take down the rune wards he'd drawn on their dorm entrance and Neville woke them all with a yelp as he collided with an invisible wall and collapsed on the ground. Harry apologized profusely and, from that moment forward, was closer with Neville who he remembered had a mother who was friends with his mum.

Neville was a puzzle to Harry that he wanted to solve. He had tons of potential and latent power, due to his heritage. But he had the confidence of a baby rabbit, and a wand that seemed to have a mind of its own. Harry wasn't sure what to do about helping Neville out of his proverbial shell. He spent several weeks encouraging him without any real results. That is, until Tracey Davis entered the picture.

In his quest to learn more about Daphne, Harry had firmly engaged in conversation with Tracey. This led to Neville being introduced to her, and, well, she appeared to take to him quite quickly. Harry didn't know it, but they began secretly seeing each other three years later, all because he introduced them.

Yet even during their first year, the attraction between the two was obvious, as was the change in Neville, who became much more confident and relaxed. He also finally got his own wand the summer of '92. The reason his original wand didn't respond to him was because it was his father's.

Harry continued to improve with runes and wards. Eventually, the Weasley twins, pranksters extraordinaire, took note and gave advice to help improve Harry's technique. Many were surprised that the twins were so knowledgeable on the subjects.

Eventually the memory recapped Harry's suspicions of Snape and Quirrell, showing the cursed broom incident, Snape with a bitten leg, the discovery of the Philosopher's Stone through conversations with Hagrid and the chocolate frog cards, as well as the encounter with McGonagall where Harry pleaded, to deaf ears, for her to help stop Snape from stealing the stone.

By June 2, 1992, Harry was able to cast several third-year spells under Flitwick's tutelage. The constant nights of practice and morning exercise had expanded his magical core, allowing him to advance rapidly. His footwork during dueling had improved dramatically, and he was able to cast on the move more fluidly, something Flitwick stressed heavily.

On June 4, 1992, he confronted McGonagall about the Stone, she told him to put it from his mind. Refusing, Harry gathered Ron and Neville and the three made their way through the gauntlet to the stone. Fluffy was easy, just play music to make him sleep. The devil's snare was no problem with Neville and his knowledge of Herbology. The key, Ron and Harry managed quickly, seeing as how Neville was a disaster waiting to happen on a broom.

The chess game lost them Ron, as he sacrificed himself so they could progress. Thankfully, he was still breathing. The troll was already dead, courtesy of 'Quildemort'. Harry figured out the Potions challenge rather quickly, and Neville went for help while Harry continued. Finally, for all to see, was Harry Potter's second encounter with Lord Voldemort.

Harry walked down the stairs to the open room ringed by flames with the Mirror of Erised in its center. Quirrell was muttering agitatedly at it.

"I see the Stone!" He cried. "Yet I cannot get it!"

"Use the boy…" A raspy voice seemed to come from Quirrell.

Harry grabbed at his scar, wincing. Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"You, Potter!" He beckoned. "Come and tell me what you see!"

Harry approached cautiously, wand in hand, and looked into the mirror. He saw his parents. He saw Daphne and himself. He saw the little girl. She was beaming at him and holding a red stone. She waved shyly before handing the stone up to reflection Harry who gave a lopsided grin and pocketed it. Immediately, Harry felt the weight of the stone in his pocket.

"I see myself with the Qudditch Cup," Harry lied, feeling dirty.

Quirrell swore and turned back to the mirror.

"He lies…" The raspy voice called. "Let me speak with him…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell protested.

"Silence!"

Quirrell yelped in pain and shakily began unwinding his turban, slowly turning around. Harry was confronted with the face of Voldemort embedded in the skull of Quirrell. The red eyes narrowed, and the slits for nostrils flared as the Dark Lord faced his nemesis.

"Harry Potter," the voice rasped. "We meet at last."

"Voldemort," Harry whispered.

"I know you have the stone, boy," Voldemort hissed. "I can see it in your mind. You cannot hide it from me."

Harry's eyes widened. How can he see into my mind?

"Magic, Harry," Voldemort assured. "Your thoughts are known to me. The Stone. Now."

And then something horrible happened. With sharp cracks that made Harry want to regurgitate his lunch, Quirrell's arms snapped the wrong direction to face his back, even though his hands were upside down. It was unnatural, and made Harry think about a Frankenstein story he'd once heard in school with Dudley.

Voldemort stalked forward, walking backward, but his arms now facing forward, wand in hand. It was grotesque, an aberration. Harry took several steps back, eventually hitting the bottom stair of the entrance and falling to his rear.

"I see you need encouragement," Voldemort noted. "No matter. You will yield the stone to me."

Crucio!

White spikes of pain lanced through Harry's body. It was not unmanageable, however. The last time Vernon had beaten him with the fireplace poker compared. It still elicited a scream from Harry, who writhed on the stairs while Voldemort held it for roughly fifteen seconds, finally breaking the curse. Harry gasped and staggered to his feet.

"This vessel is weak," Voldemort hissed in disappointment. "Yet I admit myself surprised you can move, Harry."

Expelliarmus! Harry shouted, only for Voldemort to lazily bat it away. It was one of the first spells Flitwick had taught him in their private lessons.

Harry tried several other spells, but Voldemort seemed unimpressed and merely stood there for some reason. Another Crucio and Harry was no longer fighting back but gasping for air.

"Master," Quirrell's voice called out. "We can always use the girl."

"A pity to need to spill pure blood," Voldemort noted. "But an effective decision."

"Leave… Daphne… Alone…" Harry panted.

"Give me the stone, Harry, and I shall spare her."

Harry saw red. Voldemort didn't spare anyone. Not his father. Not his mother. Uncaring of the pain or the fact that he couldn't hope to cross wands with Voldemort, Harry, forcing himself to stand, charged forward and grabbed him. An unnatural scream resonated in the chamber as Harry's hands burned the Dark Lord. Harry was so surprised he missed the vicious backhand that sent him sprawling to the floor.

Voldemort staggered to his feet. "Enough!" He shouted. "I tire of this, Harry Potter!"

He raised his wand in a grand gesture, and Harry knew it wasn't going to be good, so he dove forward and tackled Voldemort to the ground, shoving his hands directly to the Dark Lord's face. They burned, melting the skin on his fingers, but he didn't care. He held them there until the screaming stopped and 'Quildemort's' head was ash.

His body twitched uncontrollably from exposure to the Cruciatus. A black mist with Voldemort's face rose from the body, screaming in rage. It passed through Harry violently, stopping his heart momentarily before disappearing on the wind. Harry fell back, blood trickling out of his mouth and his body still twitching. The last thing he saw was a gray beard and purple robes before darkness overtook him.

On June 11, 1992, Harry awoke. He'd been out for a week. He was in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey was bustling about him, waving her wand and checking diagnostics. Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed, a twinkle in his eye.

"Harry, my boy, you gave us quite a scare."

"How long have a I been out?" Harry croaked.

"Just over a week," Dumbledore replied. "You're awake in time for your exams, however. Poppy has assured me you'll be able to attend after she's forced you to take a few rather unpleasant potions."

"Ron and Neville?" Harry questioned.

"Healthy and didn't even need to spend the night in the medical ward," Dumbledore informed happily. "Although Mister Weasley did require a couple of bandages and headache potions."

"Good," Harry whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. "Did anyone else come visit me?"

Pomfrey and Albus shared a look.

"No, dear," Pomfrey informed. "But what you went through hasn't been made public."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. He looked to Dumbledore, "Professor, what happened?"

Dumbledore explained the sacrifice of love Lily Potter made, and how her blood protected him, and why he had to go back to the Dursley's. Harry knew enough from his ward book that it must be a blood ward protecting him but was unsure of further details and Dumbledore didn't offer any.

Dumbledore continued to explain his friendship with Nicolas Flamel and the workings of the Philosopher's Stone, which Nicolas had determined to destroy. As Harry listened to the explanation, he had a twinge of doubt creep in the back of his mind.

Pomfrey eventually cleared Harry, who remained on his bed and continued to speak with Dumbledore.

"Professor," Harry began. "Voldemort said he could read my mind. And he did. How?"

"Ah, Voldemort is arguably the most skilled Legillimens ever known. With your lack of Occlumency, your mind would be as an open book to him."

"Occlumency?"

"The antithesis to Legillimency," Dumbledore offered. "It allows you to organize your mind, better control your emotions, and protect your thoughts."

"Is there maybe a book on it I can read?" Harry questioned.

"Oh yes, my boy," he waved his wand and four books appeared on his bed. "I've taken the liberty of providing copies of the two tomes you liberated from the restricted section." There was a gleam in his eye as he said this. "If you could return the originals, I'd be most grateful."

Harry nodded. "Of course, Professor."

"Well then, off you go. Classes will begin shortly, and your exams are this week."

Harry exited the hospital wing with his four books in hand, thinking furiously. Something didn't add up.

The key to Voldemort's resurrection hidden in school instead of Gringotts? Harry mused as he slowly made his way back to his dorm. Why? Based on our History of Magic class, the Goblins are a warrior-race who almost drove Wizarding Britain to extinction until the treaty. Also, the protections on the stone were bested by a group of eleven-year-olds… I'm missing something.

Harry almost dropped his books in shock.

Had it been a test?

He sprinted the remaining distance to his dorm, ignoring the few who called to him. He dropped the four books on his bed and riffled through his trunk for the ward book taken from the library. He flipped to the section on blood wards and quickly did the same on the copy Dumbledore had given him.

Only the copy didn't have a section on blood wards.

He lied. Harry thought in amazement. Why would he lie?

Late that night, he made his way to the restricted section of the library under his cloak. He placed the bad copies on the shelf, having kept the originals in his trunk, and searched for books on Occlumency. After half an hour, he located both that Dumbledore had loaned him, and swapped them out as well. Another hour of searching yielded a book on Legillimency and another book on Occlumency.

Feeling accomplished and vindicated, Harry departed the restricted section and made his way back to his dorm.

I don't know what Dumbledore is playing at, lying to me, Harry thought. But I'm not going to roll over and blindly trust him. There's a reason he doesn't want me to know about those blood wards, and I'm going to find out what it is.

Exams came and went, Harry finished top three in all his classes alongside Daphne and Hermione Granger, a muggle-born Ravenclaw. Despite his best efforts, Snape was forced to give an impartial grade on the exam, and Harry made out with an Outstanding in Potions, even though his coursework had rarely been over an Acceptable.

June 19, 1992, the last night before they would return home for summer vacation. Harry, under his cloak, went back to where he fought Voldemort. Fluffy was no longer there. The devil's snare and other tests were gone also. All that remained, in the last room, was the Mirror of Erised, unscathed. Harry strode up to it, removing his cloak.

The mirror shimmered and once again the five people appeared. Harry stared at them with longing.

"I'll come back every year before I go home for summer," he promised. "It wouldn't be wise to visit any more than that."

The reflections didn't respond.

"And I'm going to work really hard to make sure my future turns out exactly like this," he promised, staring at the little girl who melted his heart with her innocent smile. "I'll see you soon," he whispered and turned to leave, throwing his cloak over himself once more.

June 20, 1992, flickered on the screen and Harry was on the Hogwarts Express, alone in a compartment and reading his ward book. The mystery of the blood wards still eluded him. Ron and Neville had gone ahead to hang out with the twins, and Harry wanted to be undisturbed anyway.

As the train whistle sounded, indicating they were closing in on King's Cross Station, Harry stowed his things in his trunk and activated a rune on its side to cause it to shrink down. It was one of the last charms Professor Flitwick had taught him for the year, and Harry had managed to apply it in a rune format. He hoped he could sneak it past Vernon… Unable to read any longer, Harry left his compartment to find Daphne.

She was, as usual, with Tracey Davis in their own space. He knocked and entered shortly after. "Hello, Tracey, Daphne."

"Potter," Daphne said cordially.

"Hi, Harry," Tracey waved.

He took a steadying breath and faced Daphne. "Can I write you this summer, Daphne?"

She stared at him with her sapphire eyes that enthralled him every time. "I suppose."

"Great," he turned to leave. "I don't want to be a bother. Have a nice summer. Oh, and thanks again, Tracey."

"No problem, Harry," Tracey grinned.

Glad I got Daphne's address from Tracey…

He made his way to his compartment and grabbed Hedwig and her cage. The Express had just pulled into the station. As he departed, he took his shrunken trunk and popped it into his mouth, maneuvering it under his tongue. He left the barrier and found Vernon waiting for him, obviously disgruntled.

"Boy," he huffed. "Where are your things?"

"Left them at school," Harry said politely. "I know you don't like my…freakishness. So, I worked with the school to have my things kept there."

"But not your bloody bird?" Vernon questioned suspiciously.

"Well, the teachers don't live on site, Sir," Harry countered. "So no one could take care of her if she was there. But I'll make sure she doesn't make any noise and doesn't attract attention."

"See that you do," Vernon snarled. "Or it's your head."

The screen changed to Harry sitting in his chair, he leaned forward. "And we've come to the conclusion of year one," he quipped. "I hope you all enjoyed it. Merlin knows I didn't."

He stood and the lights in the great hall flared to life. "Now don't go getting excited," Harry cautioned. "We still have to go through the next three years, plus what's happened this year. But it would be rather rude of me to force you to endure that without a bathroom break."

He spoke in Parseltongue, causing several students to yelp in fright. Two doors appeared, one on the left wall and one on the right. "Ladies to the right, gents to the left," Harry motioned. "Also, Poppy, there's a door behind your normal spot at the staff table which will lead to the medical wing. Only you can enter it. Any others who attempt will be met with…unpleasant results."

Poppy moved that way, leaving Astoria for the first time since she'd arrived to help her.

"I'm sure you've derived why I'm allowing this, Poppy, but just in case… Please gather what you need for Astoria. I have no doubt this has been extremely hard on her."

Astoria gave a watery smile at the screen.

"Tori," Harry addressed her. "Don't worry, Little Lioness. It's going to get much worse, as I'm sure you're dreading. But I promise you this: It's going to be okay."

The great hall went silent at that admission.

"Just hang in there for me, alright?" Harry asked.

Astoria, tears running down her face, wiped her nose and nodded. She knew that Harry wasn't really in the room, but it certainly felt like he was.

Daphne watched this in awe. Even with all Harry was showing, he still took time to think of others, especially Astoria. A tiny part of her hoped he would have something to say to her; not that she anticipated it would be positive. She was both disappointed and relieved that he did not. She observed the staff table, noting that Dumbledore had gone exceptionally pale and was nodding vaguely as McGonagall attempted to converse with him.

What has got him so nervous? Daphne thought. The gauntlet for the stone was obviously a series of tests. Harry won. Isn't that the result he wanted?

She watched a bit longer before something clicked.

Trust. Harry stopped blindly trusting him. That's something he must have not realized.

Pomfrey returned five minutes later, and Astoria was looking much better after she downed five potions. Color returned to her skin, she stopped sweating, and her cough abated. Pomfrey also cast a couple Scourgify charms to clean up the blood that had soaked into her robes.

"Should be enough time to continue," Harry said amusedly. "Now then, let's head into year two and see what kind of chaos I find myself in, shall we? Does Vernon find out what I've done? Will Daphne respond? Will Croaker ever laugh?"

"Not likely," Croaker deadpanned off screen.

"Worth a shot," Harry shrugged then chuckled suddenly. "You do realize your response was a satisfactory answer to all three questions, right?"

"It was intentional, Lord Potter-Black."

The screen faded and a new image appeared.

The rest of the drive from King's Cross Station went by in silence. Harry made for his room and shut his door, locking it. He removed his trunk from under his tongue and unshrunk it by touching his wand to the rune. He didn't have much time, so he set to work quickly, dragging several quills and ink out.

I have to hide my trunk, Harry thought. I just hope this works…

Harry began inscribing runes along the floor and wall around the trunk. He double-checked each using his textbook to make sure they were perfect. Fred and George had helped him come up with it when he explained what he wanted to do. He pricked his thumb with a fresh quill and smeared a drop of blood over each rune. They began to glow dimly. A tiny pulse of magic later, and they glowed brightly, then faded.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. If it worked, then his trunk would be invisible to muggles. There was a knock on the door, and Harry tossed his wand in his trunk and opened the door to see Vernon standing there.

"Boy," he huffed. "We expect dinner. What's taking you so long?"

"Just getting settled, Sir," Harry mumbled.

Vernon looked around suspiciously, his eyes narrowing at Hedwig in her cage. Hedwig hooted.

"Well get to it," he pushed past Harry, waddling downstairs. Harry was flabbergasted. Vernon never missed an opportunity to cuff him on the back of the head whenever he was in reach.

Harry was kept busy for the rest of June and July with his daily chores and cooking. Surprisingly, his summer stay was rather pleasant, all things considered, since he didn't have any eruptions from Vernon or Petunia. Even Dudley seemed reserved and even scared of Harry, which suited him just fine.

After dinner each night, Harry was left to his own devices, and would lock himself in his room and read. With the trace on his wand, he was unable to practice or perform magic. He would instead perform the wand motions and whisper the pronunciations in hopes it would translate when he could use magic again.

Thus, Harry's birthday arrived without any fanfare or incident. Harry had attempted a couple more letters to Daphne, but she never replied. July 31, 1992, flashed across the screen.

"I think I'm done writing letters, girl," Harry said softly, while lying in bed, to Hedwig in the early hours of the morning. "Daphne hasn't ever responded to one."

Hedwig hooted.

"Yeah, maybe friend doesn't mean to her what it does to me? Not like I really know what a friend is, seeing as she was the first. Ron is nice and all, but we're not exactly close. He's abrasive, opinionated and volatile sometimes."

A picture of Vernon flashed in Harry's mind.

"The twins are nice enough," Harry continued, "but I don't know if I'd call them friends. And Neville is a decent fellow, but we don't spend much time together outside of class."

Harry sat up. "But what does that make Daphne?"

Hedwig stared at him with her large luminous eyes.

"She does less than any of the others…" Harry observed. "If none of them are my friends… How can she be?"

Vernon hollered from downstairs. Harry sighed heavily and stood, having slept in his clothes. "A mystery for another time," Harry muttered.

He hurried downstairs to find Vernon, Petunia and Dudley waiting for him. They did not wish him a happy birthday, or even acknowledge it was his birthday. Instead, they informed him that he would be upstairs, and quiet, in his room for the entire day. He would be quiet. Non-existent. They then performed some sort of stage pantomime that Harry thought would do anything but 'seal the deal', as Vernon said. Vernon reinforced the quiet requirement with threats of apocalyptic violence and sent Harry upstairs so they could prepare.

Thankful for a day off, Harry went to his room and locked his door, determined to make the most of his birthday. He began by meditating and heading to his mindscape. He found himself in a meadow surrounded by tall pine trees and littered with various flowers of all manner of colors. Golden Snitches floated above him, darting around. Those were unsorted memories.

He looked down at the flowers, his sorted memories; each color had a meaning. Black, the most prominent, were the bad memories. Those had been tough to relive and cope with. He was glad that the remaining memories weren't like the black flowers. Red were angry memories, or memories that involved fighting. Yellow flowers denoted happy memories or fun experiences, like when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Blue flowers were informational memories and focused on classes and textbooks. The blue had almost caught up to the black, and Harry assumed once he finished sorting, he'd have more blue flowers than any others.

The flowers were mainly daisies, something he gardened almost daily on behalf of Petunia. Sprinkled throughout his mindscape, however, were daphne flowers. These, of course, were any memory that involved Daphne Greengrass. Harry spent a couple hours sorting and cataloging his memories before exiting his mindscape.

He spent the rest of the day studying his Legillimency book. It quickly became apparent that he would need a partner to develop this skill, so he moved back to Occlumency. He'd taken the ward and rune books as far as he could without a deeper understanding of magic. Maybe his second-year books would help in that, but his school supplies letter hadn't come yet.

Evening arrived and Harry could hear the commotion downstairs, indicating Vernon's special night was starting, where he was going to close a deal that would, 'change their lives'. Right. Harry doubted such a person would be unable to see through the snake oil salesman that was Vernon Dursley.

He closed his eyes, deciding to sort more memories and maybe try implementing some rudimentary mental defenses his book spoke of. He was just settling in when a soft Crack! shook him from his meditation. Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring into two tennis ball sized yellow orbs. They were rather close to his face.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, falling back on his bed.

"The Great Harry Potter, Sir!" Exclaimed the House-elf. "Dobby has come to warn you of great danger!"

"Shhh!" Harry hissed. "You're going to get me in trouble!"

Dobby's ears lowered but he nodded, clamping two hands over his mouth.

"Now what are you?"

"Dobby is a House-elf."

"And you've come to warn me?"

"Yes, the Great Harry Potter is in grave danger! There is a-" Dobby paused and banged his head on the wall. Thankfully, it was an outward facing wall, so it was well insulated, and the sound was rather muted. Harry flinched.

"Stop!" Harry commanded. "If you make noise, my uncle will come up here and hurt me!"

Dobby paused. "Dobby must punish himself. He is a bad elf. A very bad elf!"

"Then go do it somewhere that's not here!" Harry demanded, pointing out the window. "You've warned me. I really appreciate it. You're a good elf, Dobby. Thank you."

"The Great Harry Potter thanks Dobby!" He wailed. "Dobby has heard stories of your greatness, Sir. But to experience it in person!" He began crying loudly.

"Oh, for God's sake, Dobby!" Harry pleaded. "Please shut up! The last thing I want for my birthday is a pissed off Dursley!"

Dobby gasped. "It is Harry Potter's birthday?"

"Yeah."

"Then Dobby must get Harry Potter a gift!" The Elf said exuberantly. "What does Harry Potter desire? Dobby will do his best to give it!"

"Quiet. I want quiet." Harry said immediately.

"That is not a gift worthy of your greatness, Sir," Dobby replied, subdued.

"It would be nice to talk to Daphne Greengrass," Harry whispered to himself.

"Dobby can get Miss Daffy!" Dobby assured before vanishing with a small pop!

"Mental," Harry snorted. "Completely mental."

Dobby didn't return, so Harry settled back in his bed and stretched out. He was thankful Vernon hadn't come storming upstairs. Unfortunately, the threat of a thorough beating meant every floorboard that squeaked set Harry on edge. Dobby had sounded like a train blaring through a neighborhood in Harry's mind.

He took a deep breath and prepared to go back to his mindscape. Maybe he'd find a Daphne memory. He didn't really have many since she didn't interact with him very much. Right as he closed his eyes and began to descend into his mind, there was another pop! and a decidedly feminine squeak of surprise.

Several things occurred at once:

Harry immediately thought, Oh, shit!

Something landed atop him, smushing him into the bed and covering him with a curtain of golden blonde hair that smelled of strawberries and lemons.

Harry then thought, Bloody hell, Dobby!

Dobby proclaimed, too loudly, he had brought Miss Daffy as requested. He was quite proud of himself.

Daphne gathered her bearings, her sapphire blue eyes meeting Harry's emerald greens. She didn't care that she was currently straddling Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. She didn't care that she had been essentially abducted from her home. All she cared about was strangling the life from the prat beneath her.

"Daph-urk!" Harry choked and slapped at her hands.

"Miss Daffy is choking the Great Harry Potter!" Dobby grabbed his ears, horrified.

"Why. The. Fuck. Am. I. Here?!" Daphne throttled Harry, causing the bed to shake.

And then Harry heard a sound that made his blood freeze. Heavy footsteps. Climbing stairs. Fear gave way to an extreme burst of adrenaline. Vernon would hurt him. He knew that. But he could not risk Daphne getting hurt. The stark terror must have shown in his eyes, or his face must have paled considerably, because Daphne stopped choking him. She squeaked when he slapped a hand over her mouth and sat up, flipping her back on the bed and shooting over to his trunk where he rapidly located his invisibility cloak.

"Potter! What are-mmph!" Harry returned and covered her mouth again.

"Hush!" He whispered. "Don't make a sound!" He threw the cloak over Daphne, praying it would make her invisible. Surprisingly, it worked, even though he wasn't under it.

Harry grabbed Dobby by the throat and threw him into his wardrobe, turning just as Vernon burst into his room. The lock to his room sometimes worked. Never when Vernon was on a tear. Stupid Dudley and his tantrums, always breaking things like doorknobs and locks.

"What the hell are you doing, boy?!" Vernon huffed, purple-faced and in a towering rage.

The wardrobe door opened slightly. Harry pushed it closed. Vernon's fist crashed into his jaw. Harry purposely let out a large gasp of surprise, praying it would hide Daphne's. He struggled to his knees as Vernon's chest heaved with rage. Harry closed the wardrobe door as it popped open once more.

"Not another sound, do you understand me?"

Harry nodded.

"If you cause any more distractions, I will use the poker again."

Harry flinched, but nodded and closed the wardrobe door once more.

"And fix that bloody door!"

Vernon stormed out. Harry closed his room door miserably. He helped Dobby out of the wardrobe, who was grabbing his ears in shame.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, Sir."

Harry felt blood pooling in his mouth and spat it out. He hated the taste of blood.

"It's fine, Dobby," he mumbled. "Just be quiet."

He walked over to the bed and reached out for the invisibility cloak, gently pulling it off Daphne who was wide-eyed, mouth agape, and had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"W-who was that?" Daphne whispered.

"My uncle."

"H-has he done that before?"

Harry snorted and spat another mouthful of blood on the floor. "Worse."

Dobby stepped forward. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, Sir. Dobby cannot cast a privacy ward without your trace activating."

"Thanks for warning me, Dobby," Harry knelt. "I have one more birthday wish."

Daphne took a sharp breath. She didn't know today was his birthday.

"Please take Daphne home."

Dobby nodded solemnly and moved to take Daphne's hand. She shook her head vehemently and said, as loud as she dared, "Dobby, I order you to return to your Master. You will not speak of this to anyone. Nor will you punish yourself for disobeying your Master. You also will not come back here."

The house-elf grabbed his ears and nodded, disappearing a second later.

"Wha-?" Harry got back to his feet dazedly. "Why?"

"He was in violation of his master's orders, Harry," Daphne informed. "I don't even know whose elf that was, but he shouldn't have been here. Whatever magic allowed him to come was overridden when I ordered him home. You could have done the same and he would have had no choice but to obey."

"But now you can't get home," Harry protested.

"I'll be fine," Daphne assured, then fell silent. She had so many questions and no idea where to begin.

Now what the hell do I do? Harry thought. I don't want her to go. But I don't want her to stay. It's dangerous here for her.

"Can…Can I stay for a while?" Daphne asked gently. "I promise I'll be quiet."

Harry stared at her. She'd stopped crying, but the tear streaks remained on her cheeks. The moonlight chose that moment to flood through the window and over Daphne, causing her hair to practically glow. She looked radiant. Harry swallowed and nodded. He stepped forward and cast his cloak back over her.

"Stay under the cloak," he said. "Please."

"What is this?" Daphne felt the silky material, noting how it glowed a bright silver under the moonlight. It sparkled almost as if it held captured starlight.

Harry stared at the now empty space where Daphne's voice was quietly emanating. It made it easier to talk to her.

"It's my dad's invisibility cloak," Harry revealed. "It…It's all I have left of him."

"It's a very lovely cloak," Daphne tried half-heartedly, not really sure how to respond.

"Yeah," Harry trailed off awkwardly.

There was an agonizing minute of silence.

"Daphne I- "

"Harry I- "

They both spoke at the same time and halted. Daphne giggled nervously, surprising Harry. He'd never heard her giggle, but he really liked the sound of it.

"You first," Daphne intoned.

Harry sighed. "What does friend mean to you, Daphne?"

Daphne froze beneath the cloak. She'd been dreading this question. Unshed tears burst forth, and she was glad Harry couldn't see her. She spoke in a watery voice, "Probably not what it means to you."

"You've never answered any of my letters," Harry said. It wasn't accusatory, as Daphne had expected it to be. It was broken. Defeated.

"I haven't been allowed to, Harry."

"But your mom- "

"Was corrected," Daphne interrupted. "My father is a hard man, Harry. Not like your uncle," she quickly assured. "He is set in his ways and views and expects me to behave a certain way and interact with certain people. You're not one of them."

"So, my letters…"

"He burns them as soon as they come in. But he always lets me read them before he does." Daphne sobbed as quietly as she could. "I'm so, so, sorry, Harry."

"But why haven't you told me?" Harry's voice was thick with emotion.

"I have to be very careful at Hogwarts," Daphne hiccupped. "Father is friends with many families, and their children are in our year. They report to their fathers who report to mine."

"I'll stop writing you letters," Harry promised. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble."

"I know you mean well. They make me feel happy when I see them."

"You're my friend, Daphne," Harry said numbly. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

"What does that mean to you, Harry?" Daphne whispered.

The cloak slipped off her head momentarily, and she looked at Harry with puffy eyes. She never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment. Harry didn't bother fixing the cloak. With how quiet they were being, he would hear if the Dursley's came upstairs.

"Friendship is where you care about how the other person feels. You protect them and want to see them happy. If they have a dream or a goal, then you do everything you can to see it through. You never give up on them, and you always believe the best. You never turn your back on a friend."

Daphne smiled sadly. "What does love mean to you, Harry?"

Harry appeared confused. "Love is where you die for someone," he whispered with reverence. "Like what my mum and dad did for me. They loved me."

He looked over to see tears flooding Daphne's face. She was still smiling at him.

"Are you okay, Daphne?" Harry asked with concern.

She nodded subtly. "Am I your friend, Harry?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yes. You're my only friend, Daphne."

She bit her lower lip and a hand appeared seemingly out of thin air to brush a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Can I hug you, Harry?"

He looked scared but nodded. Daphne leaned over and gently embraced him. He stiffened but didn't flinch. She held him until, ever so slowly, his arms raised and embraced her back. He pulled her close, crushing her against his chest, and inhaled the wonderful scent of her hair, uncaring at the wetness he felt on his cheek from her tears.

"You're my friend too, Harry," Daphne whispered in his ear. "I promise."

The sound of heavy footsteps caused them to hurriedly break apart. Harry quickly threw the invisibility cloak back over Daphne and stood facing the door. Vernon entered seconds later.

"Boy," he said gruffly. "We had a good night, despite your freakishness almost ruining it."

"That's good," Harry mumbled.

Vernon barked a short laugh. "Too right it is," he replied maliciously. "Had it not been it would have been your hide."

Harry nodded.

"We expect breakfast in the morning."

"Yes, Sir."

Vernon left and Harry closed the door before sitting back down on the bed. Daphne pulled the cloak down once more.

"It's really bad here, isn't it?" Daphne whispered.

"Y-yeah," Harry felt tears threatening his eyes and forced them away.

Daphne's hand appeared out of thin air and gently held Harry's. He flinched but didn't pull away. Her hand was warm and sent pleasant tingles up his arm. His face got hot. He didn't let go.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Not really, Harry thought. But maybe I should. I don't want her to go. If I tell her, she'll get scared and go.

"I won't leave you, Harry," Daphne promised. "We're friends."

"They…" Harry trailed off before trying again. "They hit me."

"For how long?"

"As long as I can remember."

And Harry told her everything. Every hurt. Every injustice. Every pain. The tears begged for release, and he didn't stop them. It felt good to cry. It felt good to tell her. Minute by minute, the darkness that had haunted him for years ebbed. And piece by piece, Harry handed Daphne his heart, trusting she would keep it safe.

He was tired, so very tired, when finished. He'd cried on Daphne's shoulder for what felt like hours, and she didn't rebut him, only gently ran fingers through his hair.

"It's time for me to go, Harry," she whispered as his eyes drooped.

He held her tighter. "I don't want you to leave."

"I have to," she said firmly. "If my father found out…"

Harry nodded and released her; they both stood apart, looking at each other awkwardly. Daphne suddenly surged forward and crashed into Harry, hugging him fiercely. Harry hesitated only for a second before returning it.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Daphne said warmly.

"Thank you," Harry replied.

Daphne reluctantly released him and backed away. "Tipsy," she whispered and a female house-elf wearing a rather nice dress and apron appeared.

"Miss Daphne," she whispered. "Why are you here?"

"It's a long story, Tipsy," Daphne replied. "Can you please take me home?"

The house-elf nodded and held out her hand. Daphne looked over to Harry one last time and gave him a blinding smile that caused his heart to skip a beat. Then she vanished along with the house-elf. Harry sighed from the tips of his toes and crashed onto his bed, pulling the invisibility cloak to him that now carried Daphne's scent.

He fell asleep with a huge smile on his face, dreaming of blonde haired, blue-eyed girls.

The screen faded to black, and the great hall collectively turned to stare at Daphne. Astoria rounded in her seat with a venomous glare that faltered almost immediately when she saw her sister.

Daphne looked befuddled, horrified, and sick somehow all in a single expression. Her hands were in her hair, clutching her head, and she was breathing rapidly, clearly distressed. Tears were streaking down her face at a rapid pace, and she looked like she wanted to scream in terror but couldn't find her voice. Astoria watched as all color drained from Daphne's face and hands.

That's not possible, Daphne thought. I don't remember that. I would never forget something like that.

"It's not me," she managed to whisper so softly only she could hear, her voice hollow.

She began wracking her mind to try to find the memory. To understand how she could have forgotten. The horror at the thought of someone else having impersonated her caused her to panic. Then, suddenly, she felt a sharp pain that forced her to double over and groan in agony. Her head was throbbing, and she saw spots. The great hall began shrinking and spinning simultaneously.

Daphne passed out before she could register the many voices around her.