AN: Well everyone, sorry for the incredibly late update. My schedule the last few months has been incredibly hectic, not to mention the fact that this chapter always felt less than stellar to me, so this fic was put on the back burner (although I never really stopped working on it). Hopefully updates will be more regular from now on, but even if my hectic schedule persists, I would like to say that this fic is not on Hiatus, and I don't plan on abandoning it either. On the upside, I've just discovered that this website allows you to respond to comments, so I'll be doing that from now on.

All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. It's her sandbox, we're just playing in it.

Chapter 3: Au Revoir Monsieur Fawkes

Daphne woke to the violent buzzing of her wand on her bedside table.

Damn alarm charms, she thought grumpily as she picked up the offending instrument and undid her spell. Kicking off her green silk sheets, she padded over to her bathroom and brushed her teeth with slow, lazy movements. She cast a hair-styling spell with her wand in her left hand, mildly amused as she watched her messy frizz fall into the shoulder-length curls she usually wore. Daphne smiled as she spat out her toothpaste, that never gets old.

As sleep's fog slowly faded from her mind, she suddenly realized that it was the first day of her new job.

The first day of her new job! She quickly cast a tempus charm, sighing in relief as maroon threads of light formed '7:20' before fading away.

Deciding that dressing professionally would be the best course of action, she put on a black pair of trousers, a black blouse, and her green healer's robes.

After applying some light make-up, she exited her room and stepped out into a long empty corridor. Her footsteps echoed as she approached the set of stairs found at the hallway's end.

She shivered as she descended the staircase. Regardless of season or weather, Greengrass manor always felt cold.

The first thing Daphne saw as she entered the dining room was Astoria shoving the last of her food into her mouth. "Must you eat like a boor, Astoria?" Daphne scolded as she sat next to her.

"Gooff mofon," Astoria exclaimed, half chewed food spilling out of her mouth.

Daphne spied two plates of bacon and eggs in the middle of the table. "Swallow, then speak," she instructed as she took a plate and a set of cutleries.

She watched her sister struggle to swallow with amusement, chuckling between bites of carefully cut food.

"Good morning," Astoria said as she finally finished forcing her breakfast down her esophagus. She eyed the remaining plate with obvious desire.

The healer rolled her eyes, "Take it. I highly doubt father will come down in time to join us."

Astoria snorted as she reached for the plate, "What else is new?" She took a bite and glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eye, "Are you still mad at me?"

Sighing, Daphne replied, "No. I knew you wouldn't have gone through with it anyways. I was just looking for an excuse to go with him."

Not that she knew why, exactly. She wasn't exactly the type to just throw herself into danger willy-nilly, and she definitely wasn't some kind of self-sacrificing heroine. Yet she still felt the need to go out onto that demon infested street, to make sure that Harry made it through the night alive.

"Oh," Astoria said, humor glinting dangerously in her grey eyes, "worried about him, were we? Dear sister, have you ever heard of Nightingale Syndrome?"

Choosing to ignore her annoying sister, Daphne continued, "However, the next time you need to contact me, do so through the floo or get someone else to Patronus me. Are we clear?"

She stuck her tongue out at her in response, "You're just jealous that you can't cast the Patronus and I can-"

Daphne snapped her fingers under Astoria's nose, "Are. We. Clear," she said, no longer asking.

Astoria abruptly stood up and glared at her sister with pure venom, "I can't live my life like a squib!"

Getting to her feet, Daphne coolly responded, "I'm not asking you to. However, I do not believe that asking you to refrain from casting spells is unreasonable." Daphne's gut twinged with annoyance as she realized that she had to look up to meet her little sister's eyes.

"It was necessary," she responded, crossing her skinny arms and pouting.

"No, it wasn't."

"Ugh," Astoria exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, "I can't deal with this right now." She withdrew her wand and summoned her jacket with a flourish. "I'm going to work," she announced, smirking at Daphne despite her rapidly paling complexion.

Daphne raised a single elegant brow, "Ask Bailey to deliver your jacket next time."

"The old elf is overworked as is," she said as she stepped into the fireplace and grabbed some Floo powder from the silver pot next to her. "Tell her I said the food was delish."

Daphne narrowed her eyes, "This isn't over."

"It never is with you. The Ministry," she retorted with a vicious snarl, disappearing in a flash of green flame.

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Daphne apparated into Harry's small apartment at nine o'clock sharp. "Hello," she called out, looking around the flat for any sign of life. Hearing no response, she sat down on a chair, annoyance slowly building up inside her. Did he think this was a joke?!

Her upper lip curled as she saw a giant black scorch mark near the entrance. He knew I was coming today, and he still didn't get rid of it, she thought, indignant at the perceived insult.

"Sorry about that. I tried everything I could think of to clean it up, but nothing worked."

Daphne shrieked as she jumped up, turning around to see Harry Potter standing right behind her. "What the-How long were you there?!" She turned pale as she thought of what he said, "and did you legilimize me?!"

Harry shrugged as he set down a basket filled with clinking potion vials onto his bed, a small grin on his face, "Less than a second. And no, I didn't. Your face made it perfectly obvious what you were thinking."

"Ah," Daphne said, her cheeks pinking slightly, "I didn't hear you come in."

His grin widened, "Silent apparition. Took me a while to master it too," he finished proudly.

She couldn't help but feel impressed, silent apparition was a hard skill to master.

"Anyways," he continued, "sorry for being a bit late. Got some potions from the market; Skele-gro and Doxycide-"

"Doxycide?" Daphne asked, confusion evident in her tone.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, you'll see why in a second."

"But before we go, I think you should sign your contract, yeah?" he said as he withdrew two slightly crumpled looking rolls of parchment from his pocket.

"I didn't expect you to write it that quickly. Colour me impressed."

"I didn't write it myself," Harry snorted as he placed them onto his desk, "Hermione whipped it up for me this morning. I don't think I could write something like this in a year, much less a single morning."

Daphne carefully read the contract and saw everything was in order. She gulped as she reached the line on the bottom where she was supposed to sign. Last chance to back out…

She looked up and found herself staring into Harry's sparkling green eyes- something within them calling out to her, inviting her into his world. All things of value come with risk, huh?

She picked up one of the quills on his desk and signed both copies of the contract with a flourish.

She rolled them back up and gave one of them to Harry, who proceeded to haphazardly shove his copy into his pocket. "Harry," Daphne said, frowning, "That's a legal document. Treat it with more care."

Harry flashed a crooked grin at her as he scratched the nape of his neck, "You're probably right."

"Ugh," Daphne rolled her eyes as she put her own copy onto the desk, "I'll pick this up at the end of the day. You know, so it doesn't get ruined in my pocket."

Harry chuckled, "Right. Anyways, first thing we need to do is set up the place we're going to working from." He held out his hand, "Come on, I'll side-apparate you."

Daphne grasped it and barely registered the soft warmth emanating from it before the world became a swirl of color and pressed down upon her with force, as if it were trying to squeeze her out of a tube of toothpaste.

Without a sound, they suddenly appeared in a decidedly muggle looking street, standing right outside of a dilapidated town house. "Welcome," Harry said as he gestured towards the decrepit building, "To number 12 Grimmauld Place, ancestral home to the extinct house of Black."

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Daphne didn't know what she expected to find in the derelict building, but she definitely didn't anticipate finding a clean and perfectly well-kept, if somewhat dark, manor inside it. She exchanged a glance with Harry, who nodded and withdrew his wand. Daphne followed suit.

They cautiously made their way into the house, wary of any threat that may have made itself present. "Unexpected guest?" Daphne whispered as her eyes scanned their surroundings.

"Apparently," he replied, equally quiet. "Let's head to the kitchen. I'll enter, you cover my back."

She nodded, her heartrate increasing with every step they took towards the door opposite the staircase at the end of the corridor.

A short creature stepped out of the doorway, grey with large, floppy ears and even larger bulging eyes. Its face was small and pinched, making it look as if it had eaten a particularly bitter grapefruit. "Half-blood master has returned," the thing croaked, its voice hoarse from obvious disuse.

Harry laughed with relief as he sheathed his wand, "Kreacher," he breathed out, "you've been keeping the place tidy I see."

It snarled in disgust, revealing sharp yellow teeth, "Yes, for filthy half-blood master who abandoned his house. Kreacher enjoys cleaning in vain, yes he does," he growled before disappearing with a loud crack.

Daphne looked at Harry with wide eyes as she shoved her wand back into her pocket, "What was that?"

"That," he said, still looking at the place the ugly thing had been standing, "would be Kreacher. My house-elf."

"That was your house-elf?" she asked, her tone high-pitched with disbelief, "then isn't he supposed to be, you know, polite to you?"

"We had some longstanding issues I thought we had gotten over. Clearly I was mistaken."

Daphne placed her hands on her hips as she fixed Harry with a pointed stare, "And you didn't think to warn me about him?"

"I didn't think he would be here," he replied as he scratched the nape of his neck, "I assumed he would be off working in Hogwarts or something. Considering our history and his track-record with house cleaning, I thought…" he trailed off.

"Anyways, at least we won't have to waste time cleaning the house or anything. Although I don't know what I'll do with all that Doxycide I bought," he grinned, the right corner of his mouth rising slightly higher than the left.

Once again, Daphne found herself rolling her eyes, "What are we doing today then?"

Harry made his way onto the staircase and beckoned her with a gesture. "Well," he said as they made their way up, "the only wards still active are the anti-apparition and anti-muggle wards, so I'll activate the rest and tie you to them." They arrived at the top of the staircase and found themselves in another hallway, one with a pair of large oak doors at the end closest to them.

Harry opened the door, revealing a library filled with leather-bound tomes. "In the meantime, can you research Dark magic, demons, and Albus Dumbledore."

"Why Dumbledore?" asked Daphne as her brows furrowed, "I don't really see what he has to do with this.". Harry quickly summarized the contents of Dumbledore's letter, making sure that Daphne understood that he was really the only lead they had in their investigation, and was therefore the priority topic of her research.

"Alright," Daphne affirmed, as she moved into the library, closing the door behind her. She couldn't help but gulp as she gazed upon the massive library. She had a lot of work to do.

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Her vision was blurry, and her eyes were watering by the time Harry had come to join her. "Any luck finding anything?" he asked.

Daphne shook her head, "Nothing significant, no." She felt frustration build up within her chest, an itch on her ribcage that grew with every second it wasn't scratched. "A few pieces of dark magic and veiled references to powers beyond this realm, but nothing else. Nothing useful on Dumbledore either, although…"

"Yes?" Harry asked, anticipation obvious within his gleaming green eyes.

"He apprenticed with Nicholas Flamel in his youth. There's something significant about that, I think." She felt as if she had all the pieces of the puzzle, but simply didn't know how they all related to one another. It was maddening, knowing the truth lay just on the edges of her awareness.

"Probably," he said as he yawned and lay his head on the table. "Oh, and you're keyed into the wards. You can apparate here directly from now on."

She nodded as she got up, "So I suppose I'm free to leave?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, not even looking up, "And wear something sportier for tomorrow. You'll be training."

"Training? What for?"

"Combat," Harry replied, yawning as he finally met her gaze, "You almost got me killed two days ago."

Daphne flushed as anger rushed to her head, hot and viscous. "Got you killed?! I saved your life if you don't remember? I'm not the one who decided to test if the laws of gravity were still functioning."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't have needed to imitate Newton's apple if you had been able to hit that faun, would I?" Harry responded coolly; his annoyance betrayed only by a single raised brow.

"It's not like you're the one who saved me anyways," Daphne retorted, ego compelling her to argue despite knowing that he was right, "It was that Weasley fellow."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, thank Merlin he did. Maybe I still need to work on my judgement in battle. After all, I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything then, but instinct drove me to at least try to keep you safe."

Remorse flooded through Daphne's core, cold as a dementor's breath. He had gotten hurt because of her inexperience, and she acted like a complete prat when he pointed it out.

She knew that he was only trying to help, and that she could use the practice, as much as it stung her pride to admit it. It helped he wasn't being smug about it, his calm tone making it clear he was only being frank.

"That was quite smart for a Gryffindor," she said in an attempt to distract him from her outburst, "guilting me into agreeing."

Harry shrugged in response, a small smile playing about his lips, "Sure. Also helps I was telling the truth." He studied her over the rim of his glasses, a considering look upon his face. "In return, you'll teach me about healing, and I'll probably need you to explain a few bits of theory to me anyways."

Her shame waned as his acknowledgement of her as an equal, as someone to learn from as well as someone to teach, satisfied her pride. He did that on purpose, she realized, impressed with his skillful manipulation.

"Clever, clever Mr. Potter," she laughed, "there seems to be a brain within that pretty head of yours."

He smiled at her, his lopsided grin making him even more attractive than he already was. "Glad to know you think I'm pretty, Ms. Greengrass," he said with a wink.

Daphne rolled her eyes, failing to keep herself from flushing red yet again. That's another thing, she thought with growing ire, I keep on blushing around him for no discernable reason. I am Daphne Greengrass, and I do not blush!

"Don't let it inflate your head too much," she fired back, "if it gets any bigger, you might not be able to fit through the doors anymore."

His smile took on a sardonic quality, "Funny that you, of all people, should say that."

She snorted. "See you tomorrow, Potter. And try to keep your ego in check until then," she said, disapparating away before he could say anything else.

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After picking up her copy of the contract from Harry's flat, Daphne apparated into the entrance hall of Greengrass manor. She entered the dining room and saw her father sitting in one of the chairs, head bowed as he intently studied a scroll of parchment. "Father," Daphne greeted the thin man with a slight bow of her head.

He looked up and grunted a response, his drab grey eyes looking past Daphne more than at her, before quickly refocusing on the parchment.

Daphne sat across Cyrus Greengrass, murmuring her thanks when the family house-elf appeared to serve her meal before taking her father's empty plate. "Where is Astoria, Father?" Daphne asked as she ate her meal.

"Don't know," he responded without glancing away from his oh-so-important-document.

The room fell silent except for the clinking of Daphne's cutlery.

She stood up the moment she finished her meal, "I'll be heading to my room," she said and left without waiting for a response.

After all, there was no use in waiting for something that wasn't coming.

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Daphne didn't remember falling asleep that night, but she knew it had to be after she received Astoria's letter informing her that she was staying with Draco Malfoy for the night. She lifted her head from the book she had apparently been using as a pillow, Blood Curses: Misery that Lasts Beyond the Grave. A dry tome, but one of the only ones she had yet to read on the subject. Placing her hands flat upon her study-desk, she stood up, ignoring the backpain borne of a night spent in a decidedly non-ergonomic chair.

She rushed through her morning ritual and put on a pair of sweatpants and a short-sleeved t-shirt, slightly uncomfortable with how the muggle clothes did practically nothing to hide her full curves. It's just for exercise and besides, Potter is stupidly noble, she rationalized. Thankfully her father's business ensured that her family had some contact with the muggle world, otherwise she might have had to resort to sweating in decent clothes.

"Bailey," she called out, and a short house-elf popped into existence in front of her, "Good morning. May I just have some toast, please? I'd like to leave the house sooner rather than later."

"Of course, mistress," Bailey said and disappeared, only to reappear a second later with a piece of toast wrapped in a napkin.

Daphne thanked her and quickly ate her breakfast as she made her way down towards the Manor's apparition point. She heard a whoosh, as if a heavy wind had suddenly blown through Greengrass manor, and saw Draco Malfoy exit the fireplace.

"Daphne," he greeted, frowning as he examined her attire.

"Malfoy," she responded, her voice as cold as northern wind, "as much as I'd like to entertain you, I have a job to get to. So, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course," he said, his tone perfectly polite, "however, I do need to discuss something important with you. I'll make it short." Upon seeing Daphne's curt nod, he continued, "Your sister is upset with you. Make up with her and try not to control her too much."

Anger rose within Daphne's core, a venomous viper ready to viciously rip apart any who disturbed it.

"I'm sorry," she spat out, "but who are you to judge? I, at least, care about her health. If you did too, you would agree!"

"I care about her happiness as much as I do about her health," Malfoy replied, his tone acerbic and his eyes hard, "And I know that constantly being treated like an invalid upsets her more than it helps her health. If you cared enough to notice, perhaps you would agree!"

Daphne saw red, "How dare you?! You, who served the Dark Lord, who killed in the name of magical purity! Tell me, how long would it have been before you and your ilk got to my sister? Removed her and her 'curse-tainted' magic from this world?"

Malfoy looked down, refusing to meet her eyes, "I was a child, Daphne," he said, his voice slightly rough, "I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, to make him proud."

She snorted derisively, "And that makes it okay? That poor Drakey-poo just wanted to please his daddy?"

"No," he said decisively as he finally looked up and met her angry gaze, "I have thought, said, and done terrible things. I know that wanting to emulate my father doesn't absolve me of my guilt. But I'm trying to be better." His eyes were wide, a plea for forgiveness shining within them.

He wouldn't find it with Daphne.

Daphne, who spent her school years observing his juvenile cruelty firsthand, who lived in a Slytherin house that was firmly controlled by his malicious hand. "For now," she said coldly, "for as long as it suits your ends."

She pushed past him and stood at the end of the entrance hall. Daphne shot him one last, frigid look before disappearing with a deafening bang.

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"And this is the training room," Harry announced as they entered what once was the attic of the Black Manor. Daphne looked around the room, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead as she took it all in.

It was as large as a quidditch pitch and its walls, which Daphne sensed were laced with softening charms, were adorned with empty bookcases. There were a few cheap chairs and bare tables strewn around the room, but it was empty otherwise.

"No such thing as a barren battlefield," Harry explained upon seeing Daphne's confusion.

He withdrew his wand, prompting her to do the same, "You'll stand forty paces away from me," he instructed, "We'll have a practice duel so I can judge your abilities."

Daphne nodded as she got into position, a vicious smile making its way onto her face. She knew there was no way in hell that she could beat him but knocking him around a bit was sure to alleviate some of her bad temper.

"We'll start when you cast your first spell," he called out to her.

"Stupefy," Daphne cast in lieu of an answer, a bolt of red light erupting from her wand and speeding towards Harry. He flicked his wand, sending Daphne's spell back towards her at double its initial speed.

Daphne cast a hasty shield, relieved when the stupefy splashed harmlessly against the luminescent blue light of her Protego.

That's when the table hit her from behind- she fell to her knees and quickly looked up, only to be greeted by the sight of red spell-light.

She awoke a few seconds later to see Harry stood directly above her, a hand outstretched. "You alright?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.

Daphne was tempted to refuse his hand, but the pain in her back informed her that would have been a monumentally bad decision. She winced as he pulled her onto her feet, "Fine, just a bit sore."

"That's normal," he nodded "You did get hit by a table after all." He grimaced, "I didn't actually expect you to get hit by that."

"It came from behind! Was I supposed to see it with the eye on the back of my head?" she exclaimed.

Harry held up his palms in surrender, "No, no. Sorry about that. I guess I forgot that most people don't need to know how to sense things magically."

"I'm a healer Potter," she glared at him, "I can sense magic."

"In battle, I mean," he said, scratching the nape of his neck, "It's one thing to sense magic when you're safe and stationary and looking for subtle changes in patients, it's another thing entirely to do the same when you're mobile and trying to develop a sense of environmental awareness."

She nodded, frustration building up in the pit of her belly. "Let's do this again," she said, her eyes glinting with determination.

"After you've picked up battle sensing. Instead, you'll be trying to land a hit on me."

"So, you'll just be defending?" Daphne asked, torn between feeling insulted and relieved. Upon seeing his nod, she moved back into position. At least I can't embarrass myself any more than I did the last time, she thought gratefully.

She had no idea just how completely wrong she was.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and she still hadn't managed to land a single hit on the bastard! And to add insult to injury, he hadn't even used a single shield. He simply danced out of the way of most spells, and summoned various objects to block them when he couldn't.

Her reductor curse slammed into a table, blasting it into splinters that shot off in all directions. Daphne protected herself with a hastily cast shield- Harry transfigured the wooden fragments into butterflies.

"Enough," he called out, his deep voice ringing across the room. There was no way in hell Daphne was stopping now, not until she hit him at least once.

She continued her assault, barraging Harry with a hail of curse-light. He ducked under the spells and swiped his wand in a long, sweeping motion, sending his transfigured butterflies around her legs. He twisted his wand-the butterflies coalesced into a length of rope.

It tightly wrapped around her legs and sent Daphne tumbling to the ground. Her wand slipped out of her grip and rolled beyond her reach, "Damn it."

Harry undid his spell and the ropes fell away, dissolving into a small pile of splinters. "Next time," he said gently, "listen."

She nodded as she got up to her feet and gazed into his green eyes, shivering as she felt his puissant magic wash over her. By Merlin, he's powerful.

Daphne's nose crinkled as she sighed in disgust, "That was pathetic, wasn't it? I couldn't even land a single spell on you."

"I wouldn't call it pathetic," Harry disagreed, "I imagine that you performed better than most people would have."

It was supposed to comfort her, but Daphne couldn't help but feel slighted anyway. "Better than average is pathetic, Potter."

"You'll improve, don't worry about it, we'll just have to…"

Daphne sat down on the ground, her expression blank.

Harry moved to join her, "It's not a big deal," he said kindly, "everyone starts somewhere."

"It's not that- or at least not just that," she said in monotone.

"What is it then?"

Daphne wasn't the sort of person to share her troubles with others, only ever being truly open with her sister. Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly talk to Astoria when she seemed to be avoiding her.

Common sense dictated that she should keep her mouth shut and just go along with the rest of her day- she had only just really met Harry, after all. Why, he was practically a stranger!

But looking into his grass-green eyes, wide with concern, she knew that she could trust him. And she really wanted to talk to somebody…

"It's just-" Daphne she said abruptly, the words sticking in her throat like thick phlegm. Harry nodded encouragingly.

"First," she spat out, "first, I get fired from Mungo's, so I'm a shit healer." Daphne noticed Harry opening his mouth to protest so she covered it before continuing, "then Astoria storms out of the house and doesn't come back. Malfoy," her left eye twitched as her voice increased in volume, "informs me that she's staying with him and implies that I'm a shit sister."

"And now, I find out I'm shit with a wand. I'm supposed to be great, but I don't even know if I'm good at anything," she finished, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Had she seen Harry's shocked expression at any other time, she would have laughed. "What?" Daphne snapped.

He nervously laughed, "It's just-you know-I didn't expect to hear that from you is all. I mean, you're the last person I would have expected that from."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the way I understood it, you only got fired because you kept on crossing the line, not because you're incompetent. On the contrary- you're deadly competent. As I can personally attest," he smiled, and Daphne couldn't help but smile back. "And while I don't know much about your relationship with your sister, you obviously care about her-"

"And how would you know?"

"Well you always try to prevent her from casting spells, and you research magical infusion therapies. For her curse."

Her eyes widened, "You know about that?"

He nodded, "She's the Minister's secretary, and Proudfoot, the auror who trained me, is one of Kingsley's most trusted. He ran background checks on her and all the other candidates for the position, and I helped him. As for the infusion therapies," he scratched the back of his head, "I guessed that was the reason behind it. Why else would you be so obsessed over them?"

"When did you figure that out?" she asked impressed- a little intimidated too, but impressed, nonetheless.

"Last night. I started thinking about it after you left."

"That still doesn't change that Malfoy was right," she sighed, "for the exact same reasons you gave, funny enough." She elaborated upon seeing his confused frown, "I'm too controlling apparently."

They fell silent as Harry thought.

"I don't know, maybe," Harry finally replied, "But I do know that Malfoy doesn't really know either. The only person who does is Astoria."

Daphne bit the inside of her cheek, "You're probably right, but she's just so- so stubborn!" she exclaimed. "She doesn't know what's good for her and she'll get herself hurt. She's my little sister, Harry."

"Talk to her about it," he said, "only way you'll come to an agreement."

Daphne begrudgingly concurred.

He continued, "As for the fighting part, you're really not that bad. You have power- although that doesn't matter in the long run- and you have the basic spells down. It's just books and practice at this point."

"Speaking of which," he said as he stood up, "here is the first drill that I want you to learn. It's a transfiguration drill- I've noticed you didn't use any transfiguration spells today, so I thought it would be for the best if we started with that."

He produced a round pebble from his pocket, "All you'll need is a small stone for this, so keep one on you from now on. It'll also serve as transfiguration material in a pinch."

With a minute swish and flick of his wand the pebble started floating around them both, "Now, this exercise grows along with you- the more skilled you are, the more complex things you can do with it. For now, I want you to keep the rock floating around you. Once you can do that without concentrating on it," he flicked his wand towards the small bit of stone, transforming it into a slab of wood, "try transfiguring it. Both material and morphological transfiguration, if you can. Stone to wood to glass to stone; different shapes every time, although I'd rather you focus on turning it into things you can use in combat, spears and barriers and the like."

The glass spike floating past Daphne's head flew into Harry's hand, turning back into a round pebble the moment it landed. "Focus on making your transfigurations instantaneous, that's the goal for you. This exercise also allows one to practice imposing one's will onto objects, an important part of breaking enchantments. But I imagine that you're already quite good at that, seeing as you're a Healer."

Daphne nodded, "That's a pretty clever exercise, Harry. Did you come up with it?"

"No, but I'm flattered you think that might be the case," he said with a grin, "As far as I know, it was a wizard from the mid to late 1800s. A Turk who took down a whole bunch of dark wizards and monsters, most of which have never been seen before or since."

Her eyes widened, "Arslan Pasha!"

Harry's eyebrows crawled up his forehead, "Er…you know about him?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him. "I just meant that I don't," he stammered out, "That's all."

"Well of course I do," she sniffed, looking at Harry as if he were a cockroach, "He's one of the most famous wizards of all time, nearly every magical child has grown up hearing about him. Greatest mage of his era and Flamel's apprentice…" she trailed off.

"Huh," Harry said, "that's quite interesting. He sounds like Dumbledore."

Daphne kept silent- an idea took root within her mind, growing with her every thought.

"To the library, Potter, now!"

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There was a loud thump as Harry dropped a large stack of books onto the table in front of Daphne. "That would have been a lot easier if you'd let me levitate the books," he grumbled.

"Spells damage books," Daphne replied distractedly as she folded a corner of the page in the book currently in front of her before grabbing another from the table.

"And dog-earing pages doesn't?"

She shushed him, holding up a single, dainty finger. "Shh! I'm onto something!"

Harry grumbled as he plopped down next to her. "You done yet?" he asked impatiently, craning his neck to look over her shoulder.

"Almost…" she got up and took three books from the pile and lined them up in front of the auror, "Shot summaries on Albus Dumbledore, Arslan Pasha, and Yorgo the Clean. Is there a… connecting thread between them?"

"Not that I can see, no," Daphne's gaze harshened, practically burning through his skull, "Of course, I'm a dunderhead, so I'll look again…"

His brows furrowed as he focused on the books laying in front of him, "Well, Arslan was like an older Dumbledore except… more brutal? A product of his time I suppose, or maybe because he spent more time fighting monsters. And Yorgo…. well, I can't make sense of him. I mean sure he was powerful, but he was a crime boss."

Daphne was dangerously close to strangling him. "Third book, bottom of the page I've marked out."

"It has been well documented that Yorgo's reign of terror over the Mediterranean was supported by the Ottoman Empire, in no large part because he kept what the Zeki-Adams, the sultan's council of wizards, deemed dark knowledge out of the hands of the populace. No doubt, the Greek wizard's rise to prominence was greatly facilitated by his apprenticeship to the legendary alchemist Nicholas Flamel-"

"-Don't you see," Daphne burst out, no longer able to wait for Harry to puzzle it out, "There's always one, and only one, great wizard somewhere out in the world who has studied under Flamel! And," she gestured to the other books on the table, "this isn't a coincidence either, these are just the most recent examples. I've noticed that most of these wizards stay alive until a little after Flamel's next apprentice comes around, with two recent exceptions; Arslan and you."

The healer gestured towards the book in the middle of the three, "And what is Arslan known for?"

Daphne smiled as Harry's eyes lit up with comprehension, "Killing dark wizards… and monsters. Demons…"

"Exactly, and you know that Flamel founded Beauxbatons?"

"He did?"

"Of course, you dunce," she said with a roll of her eyes, "and you know what that means?"

"What?"

The blonde smiled beatifically, "You're taking me to France."

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"I don't know why you're making me come," Daphne whined half-heartedly.

Harry mockingly grinned in response, "Well, because the Minister needs to know exactly who I'm taking to France." Which may have been true, but Daphne knew that the auror had an ulterior motive for making her accompany him today.

The bastard.

The elevator doors dinged open and Harry walked over to the minister's secretary, "Hello Astoria, how are you?"

"Fine," she responded, her brows rising as she looked at Daphne-who was fighting the urge to awkwardly scuff her shoes on the marble floor.

"I have an appointment with the Minister and Head Auror Proudfoot about my current mission. Would you mind keeping my employee company while I'm in there-" Daphne shot him a look burning with betrayal- "I'm sure you know each other after all," he finished with a wink and entered Shacklebolt's office before either of them could protest.

"Er… hi," Daphne said weakly.

Astoria's gaze was uncharacteristically cold, "Sister."

Daphne started fidgeting with her fingers, "It's been a while since I've last visited you at work, how has it been treating you?"

"Well."

"Oh."

Looking into her younger sister's eyes, Daphne felt…uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry."

Astoria snorted, "Sure. You know this isn't the first time we've had this conversation."

She did. She also knew that it wouldn't be the last and that Astoria knew that too, and that had probably led to her disproportionate anger.

Daphne nodded.

Astoria curled her thin upper lip, "And you don't think there's something wrong with that? That we keep on going around in a circle- day after day, year after year?"

Shame and frustration swirled together her belly, forming an ugly concoction that scorched the pits of her stomach. "Well, you keep on being an idiot! Don't you get it, your blood is cursed! It killed mother, and now it's going to kill you!"

"And what, you expect me to act as if I'm an invalid? Stop being such a bloody controlling bint and-"

"I won't if it keeps you alive!"

Silence permeated the room; one so absolute it was almost tangible.

"I…" Daphne's eyes teared up as she looked towards the ceiling, "When mother died, everything changed."

"Daphne…"

"Father used to be warm, loving, before the curse took her. And mother…I've forgotten what her smile looks like, you know?"

Astoria sniffled, "Daphne, I miss mum too. I miss the family we were before she passed away but keeping her alive wasn't your responsibility and her death wasn't your fault."

"I know that," she replied weakly.

"Then you should know the same applies to me."

Astoria's wiry arms wrapped around her, and tears began to flow down Daphne's cheeks in earnest, "I was eight then, a child. I'm not one now. I can save you; I have to." She felt Astoria draw in breath to protest and quickly cut her off, "You're my baby sister, I can't lose you too."

Daphne felt her sister's rake-thin body rattle in her arms as she sobbed, "I can't live life feeling-feeling useless!"

"You don't have to," she stepped back and looked up into her Astoria's eyes as she cupped her thin face, "just don't use magic if you can help it, alright? Like that summoning charm," Daphne said with a mock-glare.

Astoria let out a watery chuckle as she pulled back and wiped her eyes with her sleeves, "Alright."

The Greengrass girls barely finished erasing the evidence of their emotional tête-à-tête when Harry walked out of Minister Shacklebolt's office with a short, heavily bandaged man.

He walked up to Daphne and scrutinized her with piercing dark eyes, "You're the one Unspeakable Potter has roped into this mess, eh?"

She gulped, "Yes…"

"Keep the runt alive, will you? I've spent too much time and effort into making him a semi-skilled auror and will be very disappointed if I find out it's all been for naught."

Before Daphne could respond, the foul-tempered wizard marched away without a backward glance. The healer looked at her employer, wide-eyed and slightly rattled.

Harry chuckled, "Don't mind Proudfoot, that's just what he's like. Anyways, we're all set to head to France, although convincing Madame Maxime to allow us to poke around is on us."

"Good thing that I can speak French," Daphne said, a smirk on her lips and mischief in her eyes, "so you can leave that to me. I have a plan."

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Three days later, Harry was nervously pacing back and forth in the Beauxbaton's guest lecture hall. "You really couldn't get her to agree any other way?"

Daphne smiled, "You mean without using your reputation and offering your tuitional services? Well, of course I could have, but that's no fun now, is it?"

The Auror suddenly paused and looked at his companion, mouth agape, "You...You little- Argh! Why?"

"Well remember three days ago how you tricked me into talking to Astoria?"

"But-That was for your own good! You were clearly feeling bad about-"

"And this is for yours," she said as her smile grew wider, faux sympathy upon her visage, "you clearly need a boost in confidence."

Harry looked murderous, "Because lecturing a bunch of kids is clearly going to- you know what, how do you even know French anyways?"

The healer's smirk gained an element of condescension, "I'm a pureblood, Potter."

Daphne studied Harry's now twitching jaw with interest, "Does that matter?" he retorted angrily.

"Clearly, it does," she replied, fascinated by how bright Harry's eyes were in his rage.

"That's, that's…"

Daphne had the sudden feeling that she had crossed a line somewhere, but wasn't exactly sure where. "You'll do fine," she said as she rubbed his back, "I don't know why you're so worried anyways. I mean, you did lead that group back in Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Army, was it?"

She felt him relax under her ministrations. "Yeah, but this really isn't the same," he replied, his tone still terse.

"Well I suppose it isn't. Just talk about some theory you learned about in Auror training, that'll probably suffice." She noticed the hall slowly filling with blue-robed students, "Well Potter, It's almost showtime. Break a leg!" she said as she took her seat in the front row.

It wasn't long until all the students were seated and the half-giant Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madame Maxime, was addressing all those in attendance. "Bonjour everyone, I know this is a last-minute arrangement, but Auror Potter was here for some business and kindly volunteered to give a lecture on Magical Defense."

The crowd applauded for Harry, who was now sporting a faint blush. "All those who are taking the English Language course and the Defense course may report their attendance at the end of the lecture for bonus points in those courses." Upon hearing the news, the students applauded even louder, and some even started cheering. Madame Maxime quieted them with a curt gesture of her gigantic hands and gave the floor to Harry Potter.

Harry looked neither confident nor nervous, which was a sign to Daphne, and anyone with any experience in occlumency, that he was very nervous and was occluding to hell and back.

"Well," he started off carefully, "I believe that we should start with the most basic of basics. What characteristics do you believe makes one effective at magical combat?"

"Knowledge!" Said one student from the blue mass that was the audience.

"Power!" said another.

"Technique!"

"Speed!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said as he gently made a quieting gesture with his hands, a small smile growing on his face, "those are all very important. After all, you can't shield-" he withdrew his wand and in the blink of an eye a translucent semi-dome of pale light sprouted from it, "if you don't know the incantation, don't correctly perform the wand-motion, and don't have the power. And if you cast the spell too late, then you're hit either way. But, there's something else, two something elses really."

He paused, and the entire audience seemed to lean in in unison.

"The lesser of the two is practice, everything can be trained; spells can be learned, techniques perfected, speed and power developed. But," he said with a sharp gesture, "in the moment of truth, when all things come to a head, the single most important thing is the ability to keep moving!"

"Don't freeze up, even when the enemy seems to outclass you in every which way, even when fear crawls up your spine and forces you still. Move! You get hit, don't just lie there and take it. Move on, leave fear and pain and all those things that push you into stillness behind and just move!"

"Dodge that spell, roll with the impact, strike back, do anything so long as you keep moving." He looked around the audience, clearly enjoying their attention. "Now, for the more technical part of this seminar. I believe that first I'll go over a few basic stances that allow for free movement, as well as…"

As Harry gave his lecture, Daphne couldn't help but admire how he wrapped the audience around his finger, how knowledgeable and experienced he seemed, and how clearly he made his points. He was quite the instructor!

It felt like no time had passed when Harry had made his closing statements and walked off the stage to raucous applause.

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"That was incredible, Professor Potter!" Daphne said with a wink as they set off to explore the labyrinthine marble corridors of the Beauxbatons basement, "Especially that part about the stances, I mean, I never considered how body posture affects one's efficacy in a duel, how different stances complement different styles of casting. You often use a wolf stance, don't you? I've noticed you tend to stand on the balls of your feet and crouch slightly when we practice. You also keep your wand slightly low."

"Yes," Harry replied somewhat distractedly, "Although when I was a Hogwarts student, I favored the lion stance, not that I knew it was called that, or about stances in general really. Side profile against the opponent-"

"Wand held at elbow height, high to facilitate make the downward motions of most directly offensive spells," Daphne finished for him, quoting his lecture almost verbatim, "You really were good, you know? Merlin, the fact I remember that proves it!"

"Thanks," he said curtly, and silence fell between them. For a while they only heard their footsteps echoing on the white walls of the deserted corridor.

"So, why'd you switch?" Daphne asked once the awkwardness was too much to bear.

"I started using transfigurations and object-based magic in Auror training. The low posture of the wolf stance allows me to reach the ground easier and channel magic through it, if necessary. And a lot of object-based magic, like the any of the Leviosa variants, use upward motions. Although its best to switch stances as the situation dictates."

Sensing another bout of awkward silence slowly encroaching, Daphne quickly asked another question, "Do you know where we're going?"

"Not quite, but… I sense something. If that makes sense."

"Ah."

Their footsteps echoed, once twice, thric-

"Have I done something to offend you?" Daphne exclaimed, frustration exploding out of her, "Was it that I tricked you into giving that talk? Well you shouldn't be, not after what you pulled-"

"No, it wasn't the talk," he responded quietly.

"Well what was it, then?!"

They suddenly stopped walking as Harry turned to look her in the eyes, his features barely illuminated by the candles hanging on the walls. "What did you mean?" he said, slightly frowning.

Daphne's brows furrowed, "What?"

"When you said that clearly being a pureblood matters. What did you mean?"

Daphne felt herself going red, "Well, it's just that…Every proper pureblood child learns French or German. Learning another language is just a part of it." She suddenly felt anger, anger that this boor embarrassed her over such an innocuous statement, "What, you think every asset of our culture should be erased? That we should forget our heritage to accommodate those who are not born into it?"

"You know," Harry snarled, his eyes wild with unexpected rage, "you sound just like a filthy Death Eater!"

Crack!

Daphne slapped him, "You fucking reprobate, how dare you! I fought against them, same as you did!"

He rubbed his red cheek, eyes cast downward.

"I'm sorry," he eventually murmured, "I shouldn't have said that."

Under normal circumstances Daphne would have called him something awful and sent him running, tail between his legs. But…he just looked so contrite, so pathetic, that she simply didn't have the heart to.

"Why'd you say it then?" she sighed, the anger slowly draining out of her.

"It's just…" he looked up and Daphne nodded encouragingly, "When we were in Hogwarts, I didn't really mind all that stuff. Malfoy would call Hermione a mudblood, and Ron a blood-traitor, and I'd get angry but… not like this." He sat on the floor and leaned against a wall, the faint candlelight accentuating the lines across his face.

Daphne joined him on the floor and placed a hand on his knee, "What changed?"

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth, "The Blood War. That year when Voldemort took Britain, it wasn't just a word anymore. It was cause for death, cause for those of 'lesser birth' to get shipped off to Azkaban."

"Harry, I understand that, but what-"

"It was my fault," he suddenly said.

"What?"

The words rushed out of him, like water from a breaking dam, "If I were quicker, better, more vigilant, Lupin wouldn't have died, Tonks, Fred, Dobby, Hedwig, none of them would have died!" he shouted, tears in his eyes.

He took a deep breath, slowly calming down as Daphne rubbed his knee, "So when I see or hear anything that reminds of…then," He made a circling gesture with his hand, "I get… weird."

Daphne softly placed a hand on his now reddened cheek, "Harry, you are in dire need of help. The war wasn't your fault, for Morgana's sake you stopped it. You didn't harm anyone, you understand?"

"I-"

She shushed him by placing a finger on his lips, "And while I understand you- sympathize with you, even- I want you to know that your reaction wasn't okay. I detest the Death Eaters and what they stand for just as much as you do, and suffered under them like most everyone in Britain, but that does not mean that I'm going to renounce my heritage. My children will learn French or German, and while they may celebrate Christmas, they will definitely celebrate Yule." She gazed deeply into his verdant eyes, "Do you understand?"

He nodded, "I do. And I'm sorry, I mean it."

She smiled softly, "I can tell." She got up and extended a hand towards him, which he gratefully took. "You know you got off lightly, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said, scuffing his shoes on the floor, "Err… Can we keep this conversation between us? I… haven't really talked to anyone about this."

She snorted, "You've got problems, Potter. Seriously. You need to speak to someone."

"I know."

"But you won't, will you," she said with a shake of her head, "tell you what, I'll keep this conversation between us on the condition that we talk about this again some other time."

He smiled, "Deal."

As they continued walking down the corridor, Harry started snickering.

"What?" Daphne asked, her voice tinged with both annoyance and amusement.

"Nothing, it's just I never would have guessed that when I hired you, I'd also be hiring a therapist!"

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In the depths of Beauxbatons, it was hard to keep track of time. Daphne knew that they had probably only spent about a couple hours wandering the underground maze, but it felt like an eternity had passed.

"Are you sure you know where we are going?" Daphne asked for what felt like the hundredth time. The marble of the walls and floors had long since been replaced by a strange blue stone that hummed with arcane energy. It unnerved and fascinated her in equal measure.

"Yes," Harry replied with a sigh.

"How?"

"I told you, I don't know exactly. It feels like something here is…calling to me."

"Well, can you tell it to call to you a little faster?"

"No, Daphne I-wait," he said and held up a hand, "do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Daphne said, she swung her arms around, "I don't feel anything."

"It's warmer, isn't it?" he asked.

"I guess- hey wait! Where are you going?!"

Harry broke off into a run and sped down the corridor, Daphne barely managing to keep up. He suddenly came to a stop and Daphne bounced off his back and onto the floor. She panted as she got up and rubbed her now smarting bum. "A little- warning- next time," Daphne said between gasps.

She looked past Harry and saw him staring at a large raptor with rheumy black eyes. It had a bright red plumage, but several of its feathers were as black as charcoal. It slowly opened its beak and a most beautiful song burst out from within it, one that made Daphne feel a warm, comforting fire within the pits of her belly. She felt revitalized as the song washed away all the fatigue of the past few hours. "What is that?" she asked, wonder sparkling in her eyes.

"That," Harry said with a fond smile, "is Fawkes. A phoenix and an old friend." He stepped forward and lightly stroked the bird's head. "You look a little under the weather, burning day soon?"

Fawkes trilled another song, one every bit as beautiful as the last but this one was tinged with a hint of melancholy. Its song slowly adopted an overt rhythm as it sang a low note with consistent periodicity. It reminded Daphne of the stories of ancient ritual magic done by the pagan Wicca and the Incans of America. Glowing red words floated out of the basin beneath the Phoenix's talons: Ye who have been chosen to carry the burden of the Phoenix, our order and our flame, do ye accept.

Daphne looked over at Harry and noticed he was swaying in time to the Phoenix's song, his eyes glazed and bright. "I do." He intoned, his voice ringing with magic and the solemnity of a True Promise spoken.

Oath magic, Daphne realized with panic and awe, the kind only ever heard about in children's tales. Unbreakable Oaths, which take the lives of the oath bearers should they ever be broken, were practically unheard of in Wizarding Society, as the magic involved required sacrifice- like all powerful ritual magic. In the old stories, the price was often the magic or life of either a third party or the one asking for the oath. In this case, however…

The phoenix burst into white hot flames, its body turning to ash even as it sang its last few notes. The song ended as the last of the bird's remains finally burnt away.

Harry gasped and fell to the floor with a painful thump. "Harry!" Daphne exclaimed and pulled him onto his feet, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he mumbled, "just dizzy." Daphne let go of him, relieved that he remained standing, "There's a weight in my chest. I feel it."

"You swore an Unbreakable Oath, Harry…There are consequences to that sort of thing. Dire ones." She scrutinized his face, "Are you sure you're alright? You still look a bit pale."

"Yeah, Yeah. Fine," he replied with a distracted wave. "Give me a minute." He stepped up to the basin and carefully lowered his face into it.

"Harry, that seems like a horrendous idea, don-"

He suddenly flew back and crashed into Daphne, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

She jumped onto her feet and withdrew her wand in a single swift motion, her eyes scanning the area for threats.

"Relax," Harry said as he slowly got up, clearly in pain, "We're safe. That's just how the exit works."

"The exit?" She suddenly noticed that he was clutching a thick book to his chest, "Where did you get that?"

His eyes darted around, a wary look in them, "Later. In Grimmauld." Daphne took a step towards the basin and reached out to it.

"Don't" Harry barked, tone as sharp as an iron blade, "Only those who have sworn the Oath can touch it. Everyone else…"

Daphne gulped, "Point taken. What if someone wanders here on accident?"

He started limping back the way they came, "No one will. This place only exists because we're here. Or more specifically, because I'm here."

"You?" Daphne asked as she cast a pain-relieving spell on him.

He shot her a grateful smile, "Thanks. Yeah me. The phoenix's chosen, or Dumbledore's in any case."

"How do you know all this?"

"Later."

"Right."

The return journey took less than a fraction of the time the initial one did. It wasn't long until they gave their thanks to the headmistress of Beauxbatons and made their way back to the portkey office.

As they waited in the blandly decorated magical travels station for their Portkey to arrive, Daphne kept on glancing at Harry whenever she thought he wasn't looking. Something was obviously on his mind- his eyes held a vacant look, and he gave monosyllabic responses whenever she asked something.

"Considering the high ceiling and large floor space, I'd say this probably used to be a muggle air hangar before the French wizards conjured up a few walls and repurposed it. What do you think, Harry?" Daphne said, bored out of her mind.

"Mhm."

Great, she thought, I'm not even getting the lone syllable anymore.

"Is everything ok?" She asked once again.

He nodded without even sparing her a glance.

Daphne huffed as she returned to impatiently waiting for their portkey.

"Portkey 9-A to London, 9-A to London, will be departing shortly. All travelers please report to Travel Hall A," announced a disembodied voice, its timbre pleasant and hermaphrodite, before repeating the message in French.

She got up and noticed that Harry had yet to do the same. "Harry," she said with no small amount of annoyance, "You coming?"

For the first time since their departure from Beauxbatons, Harry looked her in the eye. "What?" he asked.

"Our Portkey is ready, come on. I know France is a lovely country, but you surely don't want to stay here, do you?"

"Sorry. Where is it?"

Daphne glared at him, "Hall A, Harry, as you should know since you arranged for the tickets."

"Ah, right," Harry replied with a sheepish smile, one that alleviated most of Daphne's annoyance.

She rolled her eyes, "Come on, you big useless brute. What would you do without me?"

He laughed as he held the door open for her, "Miss my portkey. Or maybe still floundering about for a lead back in England."

Her eyes scanned the large hall until they eventually rested upon a yellow ribbon, suspended halfway to high ceiling, twisted into the number 9.

"The ribbon is yellow; we've only got a couple minutes left. Let's pick up the pace." They started quickly walking towards their portkey, dodging other travelers who were rushing to their destinations in a panicked frenzy.

"Speaking of this lead, did anything come of it?" Daphne shouted over the chaotic din.

"We'll talk back in Grimmauld!" He replied, "Not much longer left. A little patience is all I'm asking for."

They skidded to a stop as they approached an indigo robed security officer standing in front of an old boot surrounded by a couple of people. "Papers please," he gruffly demanded in heavily accented English.

The pair handed their passports to the man, who studied them for discrepancies. When he couldn't find any, he stepped out of the way and let them through.

"You noticed the spatial redirection ward?" Harry asked.

Daphne snorted, "How could I not. Our path to the portkey was clear until we were close to the damn thing. It was like he sprouted out of the ground! Waste of magic, really, when walls and a booth would do the same thing."

"Like this it's harder for anyone to sneak by, especially with all the detection wards they tied to the spatial redirection ones."

"How so? You can just set up detection wards around the perimeter of the walls, can't you?"

Harry smiled, "Yeah, but then an officer would have to go and investigate the disturbance, meaning you would have to hire two officers per portkey instead of one."

Daphne's nose wrinkled as they grabbed onto the portkey, "Do these things always have to smell so terribly?"

"Uh…try not to breath with your nose."

The ribbon above their head turned red, and the officer began counting down from five. When he reached zero, Daphne felt a pull on her navel and suddenly found herself in the portkey terminal in London.

She heard a groan next to her, and saw Harry sprawled on the ground. "I hate portkeys," he moaned.

"You know, this is even more amusing than when we first arrived in France," he glared at her as he got to his feet, "How is it that you're always the only passenger who never lands on his feet?" she said, gesturing to the other travelers, who were now exiting the room.

"Shut up, Daphne."

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They flooed into Grimmauld place, tired as the grave. And once again, Harry found himself on the floor.

"I've got to ask Harry, do you just like the taste of floor?" Daphne teased; her mouth quirked into a smile.

He flushed, "I- I haven't tripped on the floo in years!"

"Of course, of course," Daphne said with a smile that told of just how much she believed him. "Now, before we discuss what the kitchen tastes like, how about you tell me about what we found back in France."

Harry's expression abruptly turned serious as they sat around the dining table. He withdrew the book they got from Beauxbatons and placed it onto the table, "When I got sucked into the basin, I found myself in a room. A library, one that looked like a much smaller version of the one in Hogwarts, except all the shelves were empty. Except for this," He said, pointing towards the leather-bound tome.

"When I picked it up, I saw a light flash in the center of the room. There was a giant stone slab there, one that wasn't there before. I watched as it burned my name into it, which is when I noticed the other names…"

"And?" Daphne leaned in, "Was I right or what?"

"Yes… but I'm starting to suspect we may be on the wrong trail."

There was a brief silence as Harry scratched the nape of his neck, clearly looking for a way to lucidly expound upon his thoughts.

"Have you realized that all of Flamel's apprentices- I mean-"

"Just spit it out," Daphne said, her impatience getting the better of her.

"Yorgo was a crime boss, just a couple steps away from being a proper dark lord. Arslan may have been known for fighting monsters, for being a protector, but he was also known for being vicious. I saw their names there, but I also saw a few others. I didn't recognize every name I saw, but I did a few. Godric Gryffindor was there. And Aldous Emeric."

Daphne frowned, "Ok, so Emeric the Evil was on there, big deal. Why're you so shaken-"

"Dumbledore wasn't on the list!" he blurted out.

"What?" Daphne's eyes widened, "but then the name above yours- what was it?"

He looked her dead in the eyes, anxiety lining his features.

"It was Gellert Grindelwald!"

HPHPHPHPHPHHPHHPHPHHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHHPHPHHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHHPHPHHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHHPHPHHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHPHHPHHPHPHHPHHPHPHPHPHPH

Post-Chapter AN: Hope you all liked this chapter. I believe most of the major character arcs have been set up by this point, but you never know what my demented mind will come up with next. This was an interesting chapter to write, especially since Daphne is such a different character to Harry. It was a challenge getting into her headspace, and I have no idea if I did the character justice. This difficulty was compounded by the fact that this chapter set up a lot of important plot points/character stuff that I hope will pay off later on.

To be honest, I'm not 100 percent satisfied with the result, but I've already put off posting this chapter for months, so I decided it was high time to bite the bullet and just post it.

There was also the fact that I ran into some problems whilst planning the more demon related stuff. I had a vague idea about where I wanted the story to go, but the details always seemed a bit off. That was until I re-read one of my childhood favourites this winter break: The Demonata series by Darren Shan. However, it still didn't quite click until I started playing Morrowind again, and realized that certain aspects of the lore found in the Elder Scrolls series really meshed well with this fic. I'll point out the specific inspirations as we get to the moments that are pertinent to them. If you're interested in that sort of thing, I'll most likely put that stuff in the post-chapter AN.

I also spent most of a day designing the cover for this fic. It's mostly composed of a bunch of free-use stock images from a website called . I hope it's somewhat decent and captures the spirit of this fic. Tell me what you think about it.

Anyways, next chapter is a Harry chapter, so hopefully it will come out much quicker than this one did. I have no idea why, but I find him much easier to write.

Stay safe everyone, and remember to wash your hands. Covid is a bi-

-Wolver