Chapter 4: The Grass is Always Greener

Harry could feel that he had slept too long. Due to the consistent darkness that filled the room and it's drawn curtains, he found it difficult to figure out what the exact time was. He did know that he had not felt this level of calm since before the final task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, therefore he must have had an extended period of sleep. Harry's blurry vision retained an element of the purple hue for a few moments, as he reached for his glasses on the bed-side cabinet to his right. He slid the spectacles onto his nose and tried to blink the purple haze from his eyes.

It was the first time he really had a look at the room he had been placed in. It was a similar design to the rest of the house – the walls were the same deep red, a wood that Harry found oddly soothing. It was strange, the house seemed dark and dreary by design but there was a sense of care to the polish on the walls and the floor that allowed Harry to imagine that the house was well cared for. And he was used to an entire common room with red walls, even if it was much more subtle in the Brass Heart, so it helped put his mind at ease. As he glanced around the room and its understated bronze trim around the skirting boards at the base of the walls, something else shimmered in his vision and grabbed his attention.

Sitting by itself, leaning against the wall opposite the door that was slightly ajar, was the shining metallic Sword of Gryffindor. The appearance of the Sword still boggled him. He hadn't thought to ask Professor Dumbledore about it, as there were more pressing matters at the time. But the blade appearing in his hands was peculiar, to say the least. Not to mention the feeling of calm that overtook his mind when he held it in his hand the previous night. There were too many unanswered questions to do with the heirloom of Godric Gryffindor, and he wasn't going to get them lying in bed.

He began to stand up, marvelling at the comfort the bed had given him. Neither of his regular beds were this comfortable, not even the one he slept in at Hogwarts. Something to look in to – there had to be a charm to allow his bed to be softer while he slept. That Gryffindor mattress was far too hard on his back.

As he moved to the door, he unconsciously scratched at where his Uncle had left his mark weeks ago. He sighed as he felt the ends of one of the lines on his back. Now they knew, and for some reason he was still within the Greengrass home. Perhaps they wished to inform him of his impending removal? That was possible. A thought did occur to him, one that was alone in his mind for a brief moment.

What if they weren't getting rid of him?

As far as Harry's logic would lead him, that was almost impossible. All of his reason told him that their lives would be better without him. From Aurora's sadness, to Gareth's anger and Astoria's sadness and fear, not to mention her apparent other problems, it was best he wasn't there to make matters worse. Besides, there was absolutely no way Daphne wanted him around. And he didn't blame any of them, really. If he was honest, he didn't want to be a burden on them either.

Harry left the room, still rubbing his eyes as the purple that coated his vision continued to fade, and was shocked by what he found. Just outside his doorway, he saw a pair of slumbering teenage girls. Daphne and Astoria were wearing flannel pyjamas as they sat with their backs to the wall, huddled together and asleep. As he stood there watching the two sisters holding each other, he smiled slightly. Were they here for him? They must have been worried, and stayed here to ensure his safety. He did not doubt the possible kindness of Astoria, but that level of concern did not seem as though it would fit the personality of her much colder sister. Still, why else would they sleep in such uncomfortable positions? His smile widened. Even if he was leaving soon, the possible worry for him was sweet.

The teen started to walk past the sleeping duo, but realised he had no idea which way he was supposed to go. He had a desperate need for the restroom. He could stumble his way through the house, but thought the better of it. He took a deep breath and gently shook Daphne's shoulder, hoping to not wake Astoria yet.

After a moment, her clear blue eyes fluttered open slowly and looked towards the opened door, before her eyes shifted to the young man with his hand still on her shoulder. Her face lit up for a second, before she relented back to her usual non-committal gaze. "Oh, good. You're awake."

Harry recoiled, his hand leaping back to his side as he stood up straight. "Uh, yeah. I need to use the toilet and don't know where I'm going. So…"

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Right. Yes, that makes sense. Here, follow me," she offered, and began to stand up before she noticed her sister's head leaning against her. The corners of her mouth curled into an ever-so-slight smile. "Astoria should be awake anyway." The eldest of the two gently shook her slumbering sister's shoulder. "Come on, Tori. He's up, and he needs to be shown to the bathroom." Harry didn't know what to expect from Daphne, but the care she showed her sister was comforting to him. Perhaps she could be somewhat understanding of his situation.

After a few seconds, the smaller girl looked around the hallway blearily, spotting him as she rubbed at her right eye. All of a sudden, Astoria jumped up to her feet and, as soon as she saw the upright Harry Potter, ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Harry stiffened in her arms, looking strangely at Daphne who just cocked her head to the side. "Harry! I'm sorry I was listening last night, I was just… I felt awful that I ran and I wanted to apologise and when I ran back to say sorry Aunt Paula was talking about what happened. I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry smiled and gave her a light pat on her shoulder. "It's okay, Astoria. I meant what I said. If someone was screaming in the middle of the night and woke me up, I'd be curious too."

She shook her head, laughing lightly. "It wasn't curiosity, really. I was worried is all."

At this point, she released her grip on his waist and backed off from him, faint tears in her eyes. Harry shook his head. "Thanks for the concern, Astoria. But I was fine, honest. I'm glad that Daphne and your parents were there to help, and that your Aunt was able to figure out something was wrong. But I've been dealing with this for a while now, there's nothing to worry about."

Harry heard a light scoff, and glance over at Daphne. She was scowling at him, and then turned her nose at him. "Well, if the next time I try and help you during a horrific experience such as that, you'd better not threaten me with that damn Sword." She sniffed, and Harry felt his face grow hot as he nodded his head.

"You're right, Daphne." Taking a deep breath and screwing up his courage, he walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It was instinct, and I'll be honest I have no idea why I even have the Sword. But it was wrong, and it could have hurt you. I'm sorry if I scared you or upset you." He watched as her emotionless stare turned towards him, unreadable as ever. Ignoring the giggling from behind him, he pressed on. "I can't promise it won't happen again, since I'm never rational when I wake from those sorts of things. But, if you're ever in that position again, do whatever it takes to protect yourself. Even from me."

Daphne's mask of indifference slipped for a moment. If Harry hadn't received his new gift for reading the emotions on others faces, he may not have even noticed it. For a brief moment, the girl had dropped her façade and showed two prominent emotions – surprise, and fear.

In a blink, her mask was back up and she nodded solemnly. "Yes, well. I will know what to expect from you next time and, even if you do threaten me, I will be prepared."

Harry smiled and nodded, before his grin turned into a frown, his eyes brimming with sadness. "On second thought, I wouldn't worry too much. From what I can imagine, it won't be an issue for too much longer."

For a brief moment he had forgotten. His mind had been so involved in conversing and socialising that it had pushed away the fact that after last night he was probably not long for the Brass Heart. It wasn't all bad, he supposed. Certainly, Aurora and Astoria were kind enough to him. Gareth seemed much harder to read, his anger had been overwhelming yet familiar, even if the immediate care he had shown was odd. But that was nothing compared to the confusion he felt in regard to Daphne.

The girl was so closed off, even around her family. The only emotions he had seen were brief snippets, some of which were identifiable yet others were something strange he didn't recognise, and her rage at her parents. The unrecognisable look in her eyes seemed slightly familiar to him, but he had no idea what it was. Harry had no idea how to approach her. The standoffish attitude she held made her snide comments annoy and irritate him – potentially due to her similarity to the way Snape acted – not to mention that it made her seem like a younger, cuter version of his Aunt Petunia. But when he got to see the softer side of Daphne, particularly with how she treated Astoria, it made him see that perhaps there was more to people than their first impressions.

The look Daphne gave him after his last statement held a trace of emotion, one that he recognised from his own face after a particularly horrific night's dream, or what he saw in his eyes in his mirror after the events in the Graveyard of Little Hangleton. Fear. He shook his head, not blaming her fear of him. He sighed. "The bathroom, then?"

Daphne nodded, refusing to meet his eyes again. They walked in silence towards the bathroom, with Astoria taking the lead. Harry kept looking towards Daphne, whose face was still schooled into an impassive façade. He was certain it wasn't real, he had seen her true feeling behind it far too many times now. The smile he had seen when she awoke Astoria made her already rather pretty face even more radiant. Harry tried his hardest to push those thoughts from his head, unwilling to think of her that way. It was far too awkward.

He still couldn't fathom it. The beautiful girl walking beside him through the dark halls was his wife. She had been for years, and she had never told him. Of course, he knew why she hadn't. But still, she could have mentioned it at some point. Just because she had been told not to didn't mean she had to follow those orders.

There were multiple times where he and the eldest of the Greengrass sisters had been forced to partner up in Potions. Harry seemed to recall that she treated him with cold indifference, and had not spoken to him at all other than to give directions in the subject which she was vastly superior to him in. Her attitude was clear as day, now that the Boy-Who-Lived thought on it. She had known back then, and was expecting him to approach her.

He was about to ask her a question that had been on the back of his mind for a while, but Astoria spoke before he could. "Here you are, Harry! We're going to go and clean up, meet us for breakfast in the dining room afterwards, 'kay?"

Harry smiled and nodded. The two girls left, Daphne turning to look at him strangely. It seemed she wanted to say something to him, but she looked down at the floor before turning away. As the girls turned a corner, Harry let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding, then entered the room before him.

The room he had entered was a dark and warm as the rest of the house. Dark tiles covered the floor, and the walls seemed to be inexplicably made of a deep red stone. The sinks and bathtub that were inside matched the stone aesthetic, a direct contrast to the wood that was prominent throughout the home. He noted a shower before he rushed to the toilet, desperation taking over his curiosity.

After roughly half an hour, Harry Potter was fully refreshed and washed up. He had to rush back to his room to look for clothes to wear before he showered, but eventually the raven-haired boy made his down the large staircase to where he heard a conversation happening between the four members of the household. He couldn't make out what they were saying, he was simply glad that he found the right place so quickly.

As he moved closer to the door, he saw his outstretched hand was shaking. Somehow, he hadn't even noticed his own worry as he made his way down for breakfast. Harry's body had locked into place, his hand centimetres from the door handle. Anxiety began to bite at his chest, his stomach dropping at the same time. His breathing had become laboured. He couldn't figure out where his instant fear had sprung from, but he could not seem to get control over it as a cold wash of fear dripped down his entire body.

He heard a person beyond the door walk towards where he was standing, and a muffled call of "Harry?" He tried to respond, but he couldn't find his voice. His frozen state worsened, as the hissing voice began to whisper to him.

"They will get rid of you at the firssst moment posssssible, Potter… They already have ssso much to deal with, why would they take care of a pathetic freak like you… You should jussst sssave them the trouble and leave."

Harry sucked in a quick, short breath as his hand jerked away from the doorknob, and he began to shudder. Did they see him as a freak?

Freak. Of all of the words Harry was privy to within the English language, that had become one of his most detested. It was the name his Uncle had given him, one that his Aunt spat toward him with such venom it would make even Snape gasp. It was the word he heard over and over when he was younger. And when one is told something that often, they tend to start believing it.

Then Harry found out about the wizarding world, and why his relatives thought him a freak. Finally, he had found a place to fit in – a place where he could be a normal child for once. But those dreams were swiftly dashed as Hagrid revealed his true origin to him.

The only known survivor of the Killing Curse. The infant who managed to defeat the Dark Lord. Everywhere he went, people thought they knew him. They thought that they had a right to a piece of him, a piece of his very being. In this new world, he was a celebrity. A new kind of freak.

And now, both worlds had collided. His godmother knew of his past, of what had been done to him. He thanked his lucky stars that the damage was easy to fix, but he still hated that a magical family now knew of his muggle past, at least the parts he'd rather hide. They also knew of his night terrors, and what they did to him. He would be even more of a freak to them.

Add to this the compounding issues with Daphne and his continuing lack of control over his own life, not to mention the alien voice in his head that wouldn't shut up, and all of a sudden everything became far too overwhelming for the fourteen-year-old.

In a panic, Harry turned from the door and ran. He hadn't run away from what terrified him since he was sorted into Gryffindor. But the troll, Quirrell, the basilisk, a mass-murderer, a werewolf and a Dark Lord didn't frighten him like this. Everything that had happened washed over him at once, and it broke his core like nothing else had. He began to sob as he rushed towards the stairs. As he climbed the stairs two at a time, he heard the door he was running from slam open and someone call out after him, but he did not dare stop. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sprinted harder than he ever had before to the room he had been sleeping in.

He had to get out. He felt confined, trapped. Not just his body, but his very being felt as though a great weight was crushing it from the outside in. Harry rushed to pack his things away, stuffing his filthy clothes he had slept in away in his Hogwarts trunk. For a moment, he glanced over at the gleaming blade of the Sword in his room, before he stuffed it in the trunk too. For that brief second of wielding the Sword Harry's panic left him, but that sense of fear swiftly overtook the calm rationale the weapon gave him and the scrambled through his school possessions to find one of his father's heirlooms.

He had just begun to pull out his invisibility cloak when the door swung open wildly. Harry looked over in fright to see five figures looking at him. He hadn't time to see the emotion in the eyes of the Greengrass family or the healer, Paula – he had to get away. He moved to pull the cloak over his still shivering body, but it was pulled away from him by Daphne. He grimaced and wrenched it in his hands, trying desperately to regain his father's cloak. He looked at the girl who had stopped him as he pulled and tugged against her, and he saw he was winning the impromptu tug-of-war.

She looked at him, her feelings clear on her face for more than a brief moment for the first time since he had arrived. She was scared, and worried. At the moment, Harry didn't really care as he finally pulled the cloak free from her grasp. She stumbled and almost fell, catching herself on the bed as he ducked away from her. It was obvious his years spent running from Dudley's gang, combined with his experience on a broom, would make him far faster than anyone here. He turned and pulled the shimmering magical cloth over him, and moved as swift as possible to grab his trunk – which was now firmly in the hands of Gareth Greengrass.

"Give me my trunk."

He jumped. Was that really his voice? Harry hadn't meant to sound so menacing. The hiss that he heard underneath it was equally terrifying. Still, whatever threat his mind thought it was making ultimately did not work, as Gareth simply waved his wand over the trunk's handle.

"I am going to keep a hold on this while we sort out what has happened here, Harry." His voice was unflinching as he stared at where Harry's cold threat had come from. The emotionless look on Gareth's face reminded Harry of his daughter's usual countenance. Harry growled, and made a dive for his possessions but no matter how hard he pulled the trunk wouldn't budge. Gareth must have used a spell to stick it to his hand. Harry kept tugging and pulling, growling louder as he tried to wrench the trunk free.

It was when the Greengrass man yelped in pain and there was a simultaneous popping sound that Harry snapped back to reality. Still invisible, he looked up to see the man who had been friends with his father, the man who had not only offered, but been ecstatic, to take him in, holding his dislocated right shoulder with his left hand.

The cloak slid off Harry, his left hand covering his mouth in horror. The room was silent, barring the grunts of agony from Gareth Greengrass before Paula managed to pull herself together and wave her wand over his arm a few times. The teen boy could not believe what he had done.

Not once in his entire life had he meant to hurt someone like this. He had only ever fought to protect others, or to defend his own life. But here he was, so desperate and selfish that his anger caused him to hurt a man who only meant to protect him, a man who Albus Dumbledore had trusted with Harry's life.

"Potter, that isssn't true, isss it? Think about poor Quirinusss Quirrell, Harry… He wasss in agony and you grasssped his face to kill him… You've alwaysss been this monssster…"

The tears began to flow in earnest. He didn't want to kill Professor Quirrell. He'd only acted in self-defence. The body that held the parasite known as Lord Voldemort was trying to kill him, and he acted to save his own life.

"Then why not just let him burn asss he wasss already? Why did you lash out and go for the head, Potter? And thossse thoughtsss you have of Wormtail… What you would do to him if you found him before anyone elssse… Not onccce have thossse thoughtsss left a body behind… You are a killer, Missster Potter… A killer and a freak…"

Harry didn't hear whatever it was that Aurora was trying to say to him. Both hands were over his mouth now, tears pooling around them as he stared into oblivion. He didn't know if he was breathing or not, he couldn't tell through his shocked stupor. The voice was right. He had killed Quirrell, and he had been daydreaming for over a year about what he wished to do to Peter Pettigrew. The things he had dreamt of, the spells he wished he could cast on the poor excuse of a Gryffindor were horrific. The only thoughts he had that were similar were those that Voldemort had for himself and Dumbledore.

Voldemort.

Harry shuddered again. Of course. This voice, the connection. It was all him. Whatever it was, he could hear Voldemort's influence in his mind right now. The world around him was a quick shifting of dark hair and blue eyes as he felt his body be moved around, his arms locked in place as he stayed in his state of shock. All his ears could perceive was a constant ringing, but he could hear the hissing in his mind once again.

"We are ssso sssimilar, Harry Potter. I wasss consssidered a freak asss a child too. But now, I am ssso much ssstronger than they could have ever imagined. All I needed wasss to show them my power. Show them, Harry. You have the power inssside you, to show thessse people who you really are, deep down."

He shook his head. He would never do that. He never could. Just hurting Gareth like he did drove him to the brink of reason, but doing what the Voldemort in his head was asking? He could not kill these people.

The voice began to laugh, a high-pitched cackle that haunted Harry so much already. "Yesss you can, Potter… Kill thessse foolsss… End their missserable exissstanccce… Join usss, Harry… You have been chosssen…"

His entire body was shivering. The voice was beginning to make sense. And, once again, it lost that essence of Voldemort and began to sound more and more like his own. The next voice he heard was his one he used against Gareth. A cold, menacing edge accenting his normal voice.

"They don't understand us, Harry. Who could? The suffering, the torment. The loneliness. The world is made for us to suffer. No one will ever understand us, no one will care for us. No one will ever be able to truly love a freak like us, Harry. Do it. End it."

The trembling wouldn't stop. As his own demented voice continued to attempt it's influence over him, he felt his control slipping. The world began to fade away, his vision becoming a faraway pinpoint in his own eyes. The world around him was dark, a void that surrounded the last portion of his sight. He couldn't stop himself as he felt his arm begin to move its way towards his back pocket, to find his wand.

Horror filled his mind as he felt the rage that filled his body at the protectors of Harry Potter. The thoughts of what would happen to the fools who dared to hide the Potter runt from his grasp filled his mind and he began to weep, knowing that all of the Greengrass family were in immediate danger from himself, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The images of his immediate future began to flood his mind, one half of him sorrowful and the other ecstatic at the thought of Aurora's body still and unmoving, just like his mother's. He saw Gareth running and stumbling as the flash of green took his life from him, and a vision of the sobbing Astoria begging for her life as he laughed cruelly before that eminence of green once again filled his thoughts. The image of the ever-stoic Daphne, tears streaking down her still emotionless face as he stalked towards her, the Killing Curse being whispered in his voice as she fell to the ground dead. Then, he saw Hermione's lifeless face. Ron's immobile body. A younger redhead, Ginny, lying face down, her body still and pale. Neville with blood pooling underneath him, facedown and motionless. All of the Weasley family dead, shocked looks on their frozen faces. Professor Lupin's scarred visage even more mangled. The cold, empty eyes of Sirius Black. All of these images were accompanied by the cackle of Voldemort in his own laugh, that he heard coming from his own mouth.

Harry had begun to lose all hope. His own weakness would cause more people to lose their lives, and for all intents and purposes it was him who was killing innocent people. As he watched his wand rise to Aurora's face, she looked back at him in shock. He knew what was coming, the words had already echoed around his mind. She would be dead in a heartbeat, never knowing what had happened. Just like Cedric.

Harry Potter had failed.

That's when he saw it. A face in front of his. He felt her hands on either side of his face, worry evident in her light blue eyes. Her entire façade had fallen, now showing the concern and fear on her pretty face. She had tears pooling below her eyes as she looked deep into his. He felt his breath hitch as the cackling stopped.

"Harry. Please, stop."

The cold void around him began to fade away, his vision zooming its way back to his eyes. He felt the warmth return to his face and body, and immediately stopped shaking. His mind was filled with nothing but gratitude for the girl who had saved him, and her family, from himself.

In his mind, he heard the Dark Lord scream. "Noooooo!" it cried as he stared into the eyes of Daphne, and he felt a strange feeling in the scar on his forehead. His wand fell to the floor as he began to weep once more, his prominent scar tingling as he continued to look towards her.

"Thank you, Daphne."

She seemed taken aback by this, her face flushed red as she let go of his head and began to wipe away her tears. He grabbed her by the shoulder as she began to turn away from him. As she turned back, he did something he had hardly done before, not even with Hermione.

His arms were around her, holding her tight as he cried. All he could do is repeatedly thank the Greengrass girl. Harry had no explanation for how she had saved him, but it had worked. After a few moments, he heard her own sob as she returned the hug, her grasp much lighter than his own. After a few minutes, his relentless gratefulness had stopped and he let go of her. He felt little shame as Harry pulled her from him, maintaining eye contact and holding her by the shoulders in place. "I have no idea what you did, Daphne. But you saved me."

The room was silent as the other members of the house watched on. Daphne shook her head in response. "I had to do something. I'm sure anyone else could have done it." Her face was still red, and she had yet to return to her calm mask that she usually wore around him.

Harry smiled with tears still in his eyes, and held her arms tighter. "My connection, this thing in my head was taking over. It had won, and it was going to… You and your family were in grave danger." He couldn't bear to think on what the other part of him had planned, it made him ill just to remember as his eyes began to tear up even more. "If it wasn't for you, I would have lost myself entirely to him," he elaborated further, his voice full of awe.

Her blush had deepened as he continued. "It wasn't the thought of your mother who saved me. It wasn't Hermione, or Ron or anyone else." Harry was excited, but made sure that he didn't mention Sirius. "It was you, Daphne."

He quickly hugged her again. "Thank you so much. You have no idea…" He let go of her, still smiling. Her face was as red as it was before, but she had a smile plastered on her face. Harry had yet to see Daphne smile. It was far better than the scowl she usually wore, or the sadness he had seen in her eyes just minutes prior.

He turned to the three adults, who were looking towards him and Daphne in shock. Harry's smile left his face as he thought back to the events, his gaze dropping down as the shame took him. "I am so sorry, Gareth. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Shaking himself, Gareth smiled towards him. His smile looked genuine. "No real harm done, Harry. Paula healed me up swiftly, it's as if it never even occurred."

Harry nodded, still filled with his guilt. He looked to Daphne, who had stood beside him as he addressed the adults. She was looking anywhere but him, seemingly ashamed. He smiled at her even though he was certain she didn't notice. He then snapped his head around to find Astoria, sure she would be frightened of him. Instead, she was looking towards her sister with a strange look on her face, something Harry could not easily place. It looked similar to when Hermione had solved a particularly difficult question. He shook his head and looked towards the stunned Healer.

"This thing in my head. I don't want to wait for my magic to help defend it, it needs to be out of my system. This cannot happen again. How do we do that?" he queried, desperate. He never wanted to have this occur. If it were to happen again, and Harry had no one around capable of whatever it was that Daphne had done, it could be catastrophic.

All three adults had begun to recover, and Paula looked at him solemnly. "I agree with that assessment, Mister Potter. Unfortunately, there isn't much of a known precedent for this sort of thing. I would argue the closest condition I can think of is possession, and I must admit, based on what you told Daphne and the symptoms that were shown it definitely seems like that is a part of this. But whatever is in there feels like it's a leech, a parasite of sorts."

She looked at Aurora and pursed her lips. "I would argue for his placement in Saint Mungo's, if he were anyone else. I fear him being admitted there would be cause for alarm within the magical populace," she explained as both Aurora and Gareth nodded. Silently, Harry agreed. He assumed Saint Mungo's was the wizarding hospital, and as much as he wanted this thing out of his head he would rather not go there. "Besides, assuming that he and the Chief Warlock are telling the truth he should not leave the premises for extended periods."

Harry stiffened. Did she admit he was right about the return of Voldemort? Or was the Healer just taking into account all of the possibilities? Harry had no chance to ask as he watched his godmother smile and nod. "No, you are right. He is safest here, with us. What do you suggest, Paula?"

A smile returned to Paula's face. "First of all, it would be for the best if you have a Healer on hand here. With all that has happened here within the past twenty-four hours, combined with the stress I am certain poor Astoria is under, I feel I should remain here until we cure Mister Potter's condition. As such, Tracey should probably stay here with us too." She looked at her watch. "The boss is probably not busy, I'll let them know I'm taking leave for this. I'll leave names out of course. Just a family emergency."

As Aurora smiled and nodded, he heard a small noise from beside him. It sounded like a cross between a squeak and a sob. He glanced at Daphne quickly who looked torn. She noticed his eyes on her and looked away from him. He sighed inwardly, hoping he had not done something wrong. Her continued presence at his side indicated that wasn't the case, but he was still worried.

"But of course, your daughter can stay too. I suppose you need to research? If needs be, use the Greengrass library here. It has many tomes you would be hard pressed to find elsewhere," Gareth smiled. "I will check in at work myself. I'm certain we will have something that will help us – the issue is finding it. We have books and tomes all over the place down there." Harry had no idea what Gareth was talking about, as he was unaware of Gareth's job. He assumed, based on previous discussion, that he had a similar role to Lucius Malfoy in that he spent time at the Ministry with the Wizengamot. It seemed he had a different job outside of that. The conversation went on, the adults discussing which books could hold the information they were looking for while Daphne continued her staring contest with the floor, and Astoria kept alternating a smirking glance between her sister and the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had an idea, and waited for a beat of silence to tell them.

"We could ask Professor Dumbledore if he knows anything about it. If anyone would know what it was without having a book, it would be him," he interjected. Aurora looked at him sadly, but smiled and nodded.

"Yes, he might be able to help. I'm sure he'll want to fix this as quick as possible, too. We definitely don't want an episode like this at Hogwarts." Harry hadn't even thought of Hogwarts, he realised. He nodded, slightly stunned at his lack of foresight. He could easily blame it on what had just happened, of course. But he definitely didn't want this to happen in the Gryffindor dorms.

Paula looked at the boy, grinning slightly. "A good idea, Mister Potter. Is there anyone else who could know how to help with this? Anyone who may have an idea of what this thing is?" she asked, her voice short but warm. It reminded him of Professor McGonagall, without the trademark Scottish accent. Paula's was a somewhat refined British accent which fit in within the others in the house, barring himself.

After thinking on it for a few moments, Harry had thought of some people who could help him. One he couldn't talk about, but he was certain his favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would inform his godfather of his problem. "I have two ideas; I could write them both? Our former Professor, Remus Lupin might know something of this. He's really well versed in this sort of thing, I think. And the other is a Gringotts Curse-Breaker, Bill Weasley. He's worked on breaking curses in Egypt for the goblins, he may be familiar with magic like this." He smiled at her his trademark lopsided grin. "And please, ma'am. Call me Harry."

She nodded, a wider smile on her face. "Both wonderful choices, Harry. Considering your…" Her gaze trailed towards Daphne who had just begun to calm herself. "Relationship with my niece, you are family. Call me Paula, then. Or Aunt Paula." The last statement was accompanied by a wink, causing Harry's face to flush.

"I'll write them as soon as I can, Paula. Thank you for this. I'm sorry that you're taking time off and having to be away from your home for me. I'm sure it isn't worth the trouble you're going to."

Her response was a bright, warm smile that made Harry immediately feel at ease. "Nonsense, Harry! I'm happy to be of help, especially for family. I'll go and pack, and bring Tracey tonight. We'll be back for dinner, Aurora." She moved forward and gave Daphne and Harry brief hugs. As per usual, Harry stiffened at her initially but followed it with an awkward pat on her back, which he assumed was better than nothing. She moved over to Astoria and hugged the younger teen before she said her farewells to Aurora and Gareth before making to leave. As she made for the fireplace in the sitting room, she turned back to the eldest of the Greengrass girls. "Oh, Daphne? It's important Harry does not have another incident like this, understood? Healer's orders." She winked at her and left.

Harry was confused, and looked towards the girl at his side. She was beet red, and stammering nonsense. "What did she mean by that?"

Aurora placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her as she grinned at the two. "Healer Davis just ensured you won't be taken over again, Harry. Since my daughter seemed to bring you back, it's probably for the best that the two of you stay near each other until this is sorted."

"Mother!"

Both Aurora and harry snapped their attention at the blushing teen. "Do you really think it appropriate? We hardly know each other, and I hardly think Potter would enjoy my company anyway."

Harry laughed a little. "So, I'm Potter again?"

She looked at him, an odd look in her eyes. "Of course. It is your name."

"And yours!"

The younger voice startled the room. Both teens stiffened and glanced at the giggling Astoria. Harry felt the heat rise in his face once more as she continued to laugh. He heard Daphne once again begin to stumble over her words. "What, sister? You are married, aren't you?"

Daphne, still rooted to her spot beside him began to snarl. "Astoria, stop it."

The younger Slytherin did not seem to hear the threat from her sister. "I mean, you should be by his side anyway. Don't you think, Missus Potter?"

Harry watched as Astoria began to run, but Daphne didn't make to run after her. She instead just growled loudly after her, her rage almost releasing in a screech before Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. As she looked up at him the anger in her face faded, replaced with shame and embarrassment. Despite his own blush, he smiled.

"The little menace has a point. We need to get to know each other, if we're stuck in this together. We are," his blush deepened, "married. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't know. If I did, we would have had this conversation years ago."

"It wasn't your fault no one told you, Potter. It rests on the goblins and Dumbledore. And my parents, and me too I suppose," she muttered. "So, I'm sorry too."

"I don't blame you. Not fully. From what I can tell, you wanted to talk to me but was told to wait for me to approach you."

She nodded. "I guess."

There was a brief silence as both teens looked awkwardly around the room. It seemed as though Daphne's parents had left them to have some privacy. And probably to go and berate the younger of the girls, since she had butt in when it was unwarranted. Harry decided to speak up.

"I think maybe Paula was right, too."

She looked at him strangely, her eyes questioning him. He smiled. "I've been so mad and angry ever since the end of last year. And I've been so tired. There's been this sense of anxiety within me for what feels like forever. The only times I've felt calm since then was when I held the Sword, which I cannot explain, and when you've been near me. Which somehow makes even less sense to me."

Harry had hoped his words would help to calm her down, but he wasn't expecting the small smile on her face. She then let out a small laugh. It was short, and quiet but somehow, Harry though it was one of the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard.

It was much later that day when Harry and Daphne stood side-by-side, waiting on the arrival of Paula and her daughter, Tracey. Daphne had explained to Harry how she and her fellow Slytherin were related on their mother's side, as Paula and Aurora were sisters. It made sense since they called her Aunt, but the two women didn't share many similarities from what Harry could recall.

She also explained that Tracey was her best friend, as well as her cousin. As they talked, Harry found that Daphne was a far easier girl to talk to than she originally seemed. It was still incredibly awkward to spend time with his now wife, especially since he had no prior idea of how to talk to girls outside of Hermione and the girls on the Quidditch team. Whenever he tried to talk to Ginny, she was either too embarrassed or, as was the unfortunate case in her first year, pre-occupied with more pressing, dangerous matters. His attempts with Cho Chang had never borne fruit, much to his continued dismay. Not to mention his disaster with Parvarti Patil at the Yule Ball. Merlin, he would have to apologise to the girl. He'd been an awful date. Still, it further proved his inexperience with the opposite sex.

So, he mostly talked to her in the same way he would his best female friend. He talked to her about what she enjoyed, and tried to get to know her a bit better through that. She was closed off, as he knew he was too. But still, he was told a few things.

Harry found out that Daphne was a model student in almost every field except for Defence, where she barely scraped by with an Acceptable pretty much every year, and Transfiguration which she was on the brink of failing. She avoided the subject of flying, not answering any of his questions regarding his favoured pastime directly. However, she did admit that she enjoyed watching Quidditch when the Slytherin team wasn't playing. "Not only are they dirty cheats who bought their way onto the team, the don't accept female players. Some of the girls could fly circles around those morons," she huffed as Harry laughed heartily, nodding in agreement.

He was most surprised to learn that Daphne was a near prodigy at Potions. She described her ability with a cauldron as similar to him on a broom – everything was just natural and made sense. She recalled their first flying lesson, where poor Neville had broken his arm and Harry had stood up to, as she called him, "the self-righteous egotistical unbearable idiot, Malfoy", which Harry had found hilarious. The last thing they had talked about before they went to wait for the other visitors was about the morale and climate within the Slytherin Common Room.

"Honestly, that surprises me. He acts like he owns the damn place, I figured he'd have a lot more control in your house."

Daphne shook her head. "Not as of yet, no. His father buying Draco's way into the Slytherin team certainly helped him feel important, but many of the older students manage to keep him in line. We may have fewer muggleborns and half-bloods, but they still make up a quarter of our house in its entirety. The prefects and seventh-years have done well to quell his nonsense, but now that he's older and that the Dark Lord has returned, I fear he'll be in a far better position within Slytherin house."

Harry had looked at her immediately, stunned by her last point. "You believe me?"

She smiled reservedly, but before she could answer Astoria had burst into the room, face full of smiles. "Trace's gonna be here in a few minutes! Come on, Harry! I can't wait to see her face when she sees you here!"

For someone so young and thin, Astoria pulled him away from his seat on the couch they were sitting on and pulled him out the door. He watched as Daphne rushed to keep up with them, her face schooled once again in her mask of indifference. But Harry could see the mirth in her eyes as he was pulled along by her younger sister.

That was how the raven-haired Gryffindor found himself standing beside both Greengrass girls, one with a face of stone and the other smiling widely as she held onto Harry's arm. When she originally linked her arm in his, Harry's entire body had stiffened instantly, but soon calmed down. He knew that she was trying to shock her cousin, and being on the arm of the Boy-Who-Lived would certainly achieve that. When she had whispered her plan to him, he burst into laughter and endeavoured his best to ensure that it looked as natural as possible.

That wasn't too difficult. The three were standing there for about fifteen minutes waiting, and the entire time Astoria talked to Harry as if they were old friends. She told tales of her and Daphne's youth, much to Daphne's chagrin. The boy had noticed that Daphne seemed less controlled than usual. Not in the same way she was when they were talking, but instead her face revealed her anger towards her sister. He hoped he hadn't exacerbated that anger with his occasional laughs at her sister's stories.

He didn't have any further time to ruminate on Daphne's mood, as the fireplace flared with an emerald green that, for a moment, reminded Harry of the visions he had earlier. He found it strange that he had been able to recover from the mental attack so quickly, on top of his episode that night. He shouldn't feel as comfortable as he did. There was something at work that was keeping him calm, and rational. As Paula walked out of the Floo, smirking at the three, Harry quickly stole a glance at Daphne.

It was her that had stopped him earlier. Plus, she was the only person who had been near him all day. His wand and the Sword remained in his room, and Astoria had given them space until minutes ago. It had to be her presence. But how could that be? The amount of gratitude he felt for the Slytherin was incredible, but it was the underlying feeling that went with them that scared him.

What was it that Harry had felt when she had brought him back from the brink?

He shook his head slightly and looked at the once again flaring green fire, ready to help Astoria shock their cousin. He had a small grin on his face as he watched a somewhat familiar blonde stumble her way out of the fireplace.

Tracey Davis was shorter than both Harry and Daphne, closer in height to Astoria. Her long blonde hair was held back in a ponytail. She looked similar to her mother, with the same pointed nose and somewhat round face. However, her eyes were much darker than Paula's. She looked up after catching herself, a broad smile on her face as she rushed forward to meet the girls that were flanking him. "Daph! Tori! It's so good to… See you…"

She trailed off; her eyes locked onto Astoria. Her eyes followed along her tight grip on Harry's arm before she locked eyes with the Boy-Who-Lived. Her mouth was agape as she had now stopped completely a few metres away from her fellow Slytherins and her Gryffindor classmate. She seemed to be doing her best impression of a fish, looking between all three of them. Harry struggled to hold in his laughter, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye Daphne was shaking from her contained amusement. Astoria just giggled as Tracey looked over them all before squealing and rushing Astoria.

"And when the bloody hell did this happen, pipsqueak?!" she demanded, her eyes wide and her smile broad. Harry burst into laughter as Astoria did the same, letting go of his arm to hug her cousin tight.

"It hasn't Trace. Harry was kind enough to play along."

"Oh, it's Harry is it? Are you sure nothing has happened? Aren't you a little young for him, anyway?"

Tracey had successfully turned the tables on the youngest, who blushed slightly. Suddenly, she grinned and leant into Tracey and whispered far too loudly. "I would never still my sister's man, Tracey."

Harry felt his muscles tighten, a reaction he had noticed he had whenever his and Daphne's relationship was brought up. He wasn't sure what reaction his body had gone with – whether he was blushing or if the colour had drained from his face – but as he looked towards a fuming Daphne, he noticed she was bright red. At least he wasn't alone in his embarrassment.

"Astoria!" she screamed and began to hunt her sister down, something she admitted to Harry she had wanted to do for her earlier comments on the two of them. Harry began to smile as he watched them run out of the room, leaving a smirking Paula and a shocked Tracey who was openly staring at him as if he were some unsolved mystery.

All of a sudden, she moved in front of him, a shrewd look on her face. "What was that all about, Potter?" Her tone didn't indicate any hostility, merely confusion.

"Best you ask Daphne, since the two of you are close. Honestly, Astoria shouldn't have told you anything. It wasn't her story to tell," Harry shrugged. He scratched the back of his head before realising he had yet to formally introduce himself. He extended his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you, outside of class anyway. I'm Harry."

She looked between the hand and his eyes before smiling wide and taking it. "The pleasure is mine, Harry. I'm Tracey. Why the hell are you at the Brass Heart?"

Harry chuckled as Paula grabbed her by the ear, causing her to yelp. "Language, young lady. Harry is a guest here, as are we. He's to be treated like family during our stay."

Tracey chuckled and winked at him. "That close to Daph already, huh?" She must have seen the blush rise from his neck, because she closed the distance even more and asked conspiratorially, "How did you break through to her? I mean, don't get me wrong, you're very easy on the eyes-"

"Your mother is still right here, sweetheart."

"But looks never mattered to her. In fact, I've never heard her talk about anyone she liked. How long as this been going on? All third year?"

Harry's embarrassment continued and he was certain he looked as taken aback as Davis had when she saw him in this home. As she watched him struggle to speak, she laughed heartily and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Consider that payback, Potter," she announced with a wink.

The muscles in his body shuddered for a moment as he went rigid once more, but tried his hardest to play it off. He didn't know whether the blonde Slytherin had noticed that her physical contact with him had triggered that reaction. He recovered just enough to mutter, "Payback?"

She laughed even harder, and gently punched his shoulder. "Never side with Astoria against me. I may not be able to bring myself to embarrass the little minx, but I can definitely do it to you."

Harry chuckled with her as they walked with a gently grinning Paula towards the dining room for dinner. Still blushing, he thought back on his tumultuous day, and the almost day-long conversation he had with Daphne, and now his meeting with her best friend. He couldn't stop the small smile that grew on his face.

He could get used the atmosphere he found within these walls.