Acknowledgement: The author makes no claim to anything in this story, which takes place in the Potterverse and therefore belongs to the very paragon of writerly virtue, Ms. JK Rowling. Props and gratitude to Ms. Rowling for letting us apply our imaginations to the places and people throughout Potterdom.

Author's Note/Forward:Anyone interested in a Harry Potter with no surprise fortune, no surprise fiancée, just a junior wizard with hopes of becoming an honest, workaday auror, IF he can make it through training and probation? Someone who's a plucky guy with aspirations, imagination and a knack for landing on his feet?

These stories take place roughly in the same time and space as the seven canonical books. There was so much essential material that just HAD to get into that limited, canonical text, it is entirely possible some other interesting things happened that couldn't be fit in, isn't it? Like Harry was not the poor orphan he thought he was, because his parents managed to leave him enough gold to complete his education, but that was about it. He liked Ginny Weasley fine as a friend and was even prepared to court danger to bring her back to her family. At the same time, he recognized she wasn't the companion he was meant to find, court and bond with for his life's journey.

Daphne Greengrass, likewise, came from a good family of modest means, the most minor of the minor magical nobility, but Oh, those magical genes! At eleven she was plain, pale, skinny and uninterested in pursuing pleasures of the flesh. Her parents might have considered an offer of marriage from a suitable family, had anyone been interested, but their magical circle had much more attractive, and richer, maiden witches to haggle over than Daphne. She didn't mind. She might not have articulated it just so, but she'd always known she would make her way in the world with her brains, not her bum. Well, a girl surely has a right to change her mind over the course of seven years, doesn't she?

This supplemental material presumes the reader possesses a working knowledge of canon.

Fair Warning! If you've read the author's Wheels Within Wheelsstories, put them out of your mind because these are a completely new and different exercise.

ONE

Prelude

"HOW did you meet Grandmother?" demanded the little girl.

Harry Potter managed to get his dessert plate with its load of carrot cake to the side-table before his granddaughter physically displaced it by crawling up onto his lap.

"Doria!" called the little girl's mother, her tone of voice carrying notes of reproach and caution, not to go further.

"Don't worry about it, Boudica," said Harry Potter's wife, Daphne. "Harry telling the world's most boring tall tale on top of opening presents and putting away Christmas dinner might be just the calmative the younger ones need."

Daphne turned her attention back to the elves who were disapparating leftovers from the dining table to the kitchen, clearing the china and cutlery, and getting ready to charm the table back to its usual size. Boudica Potter, Daphne and Harry's daughter-in-law, gave Doria a warning look before turning and sending Daphne a wordless "Thank-you," as Harry began the story.

"It was a long, long time ago, on the train to Hogwarts, although we'd actually spoken a few days before, in Diagon Alley…"

Rubeus Hagrid the half-giant generally took no guff from anyone, human, giant, or one of the other varieties of bipeds that inhabited the magical spaces of Britain. Hagrid spoke respectfully, though, when dealing with the goblins of Gringotts Bank.

"Mr. Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal," he said to the goblin across the counter, keeping his voice down.

Harry, just eleven years old, was about to acquire everything needed to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but before he could do that he must first tap into his savings.

Just twenty-four hours earlier Harry believed he was a poor, orphaned relation, farmed out to a pretentious exurban family located someplace in between the middle-middle class and the lower band of the upper middle class. His foster family convinced him he was going to be starting at the local comprehensive school and he should be glad they were putting themselves out to such a degree on his unworthy behalf. Then one of the stranger of the strange things that happened around Harry happened. Hagrid had shown up and whisked Harry away to embark on the long arc of his magical education, starting with a trip to Diagon Alley for his first year kit.

Harry didn't know it but the magical coinage in his vault-galleons, sickels and knuts-was his earthly estate, or most of it. Harry had never had any money, as he was completely dependent on his relatives and his relatives never let him handle money, much less have even a little bit of his own. Thus he was seriously disorganized in his thinking as he stood in the vault, staring at the piles and piles of coins.

"How…" he began, unable to go further.

Hagrid explained that his parents had put the money aside for him when he was still a baby, before they had been murdered. Harrys' aunt and uncle had never told him the true story of his parents' deaths, leading to more confusion. Harry knew they had a lot to do that day, so he managed, with a bit of struggle, to tamp down his raging curiosity and return to focusing on the day's tasks.

Harry knew nothing about the costs of clothing and school supplies.

"How much should I take?" he asked Hagrid.

"Let's see, Professor Dumbledore wrote it down," Hagrid muttered, reaching inside his overcoat.

Hagrid read his instructions then handed the small piece of parchment to Harry for confirmation. Griphook, the goblin who had brought the two down to Harry's vault, supplied a canvas bank bag to hold the coins. Harry counted out coins in the amounts shown on Dumbledore's note. The bulky bag presented a problem. Harry knew he couldn't carry the coins around all day and the bag was too big to fit in his trouser pocket.

"Just give it a moment, Mr. Potter," said Griphook. "The bag has an embedded bulk reduction charm. The coins will assume their normal size when you need to spend them."

Harry stood in the torchlit cavern and looked down at the bag. He watched, barely able to believe what he was seeing, as the bag shrank and became lighter and lighter in his hands, until it was the size of a small coin purse and would fit easily into a pocket in his jeans.

"All set?" Hagrid asked, not giving the appearance of being at all surprised.

Harry had had more than enough of the oily smoke from the torches and the smell of mildew in the cavern.

"I think so," Harry said, eager to get back to the surface.

"One more stop, then we'll go," said Hagrid.

When they stepped back into the sunshine and fresh air of Diagon Alley, Harry stood still on the steps of the bank and breathed in, deeply, through his nostrils.

"Need to get the old stuff out of the lungs?" asked Hagrid, a little mirth showing in the crinkled corners of his eyes.

"It's okay, now," Harry said. "I'm sorry, but I felt like I was going to throw up down there."

"Everyone feels like they're going to do that, the first time they go down there," said Hagrid. "I think the goblins like it that way. For security, you know. Another layer."

Hagrid stopped before a shop with several robes in the window. Harry wondered what he'd be needing a robe for.

"Students wear robes to class at Hogwarts, Harry," Hagrid explained. "Now, Madame Malkin knows her business, so you can just tell her you're about to start your first year at Hogwarts and you'll need the standard robes for every day and dress. She has the same list you got. While she's fixing you up, I'll save us some time and go pick up your supplies—parchment and quills and the like. Then we'll meet right here and go on to Flourish and Blotts for your books."

Hagrid and Madame Malkin were equally efficient that day, and Hagrid entered the shop just as Madame Malkin said, "Done, you can hop down now, Mr. Potter. Hagrid! Right on time."

Outside, Harry and Hagrid reorganized their growing load of school kit. When they'd redistributed everything into manageable lots, Hagrid nodded across the street.

"Books!" he said. "You can save a little money if there's a good, clean used book. Might as well go new on something like the Standard Book of Spells. You'll be wearing that one out, likely as not."

Harry took the book list that came with his Hogwarts letter and walked into the stacks. He read the titles to himself as he searched the cards stuck to the oak shelves.

"Potions…potions…potions…" he muttered.

Someone took a pinch of Harry's sleeve, pulling him from the spot where he stood to one eleven-year-old's stride to his right. Harry looked up from his book list into a pair of blue eyes set under pale eyebrows in an equally pale face.

"Pardon my presumption, but I can save you a little time," said the girl. She waved a first year potions book that she held in her free hand.

"Looking for one of these?"

"Yes, thank-you very much," said Harry, reaching for the shelf.

"Do you want new or used?" asked the girl.

"I'd take used, if it isn't already falling apart," Harry replied.

"Wise decision," said the girl, handing Harry the copy in her hand. "The binding is good and it hasn't been written in. I'd say one owner, last year."

She turned her attention back to the shelf and selected a book for herself before walking around the end of the shelf and disappearing. Harry returned to his list. He didn't need Runes, which took care of the R's, but what, and where was this Syllabary?

"Ouch!"

Feet shuffled in the next aisle. Without thinking, Harry stepped around the corner to see the girl who had just helped him dancing out of the way of a boy with a headful of blond hair. From her stance and movements it appeared she'd just incurred a pinch to her bottom and was trying to evade a second.

"A-hum," Harry said, clearing his throat. Harry had spoken with the boy in Madame Malkin's and hadn't liked him very much. The boy's face darkened. He held Harry's gaze for a moment before pivoting and leaving the aisle without a word.

"Thank-you," the girl whispered before brushing past Harry, making a quick exit in the opposite direction, her face red from throat to hairline.

A few days later Harry sat in a cabin on the Hogwarts Express, getting acquainted with Ron Weasley and trying to learn something about the magical world into which he'd just been thrown. To tell the truth, he felt he'd been shoved into the deep end of a vast swimming pool, the victim of a misguided benefactor who believed the best way to learn was to be presented with the option to sink or swim, the decision being left entirely to the individual.

Ron tried his best to fill in the gaps in Harry's knowledge. It was an impossible task since Harry didn't know what to ask and Ron had no idea what Harry didn't know. Ron's experience with non-magical people, whom Harry had learned were called muggles, in magical patois, was extremely limited. Ron was amazed when Harry informed him that one of his chores was answering the telephone for his aunt and uncle. Harry had to answer the same way every time or he would be scolded or threatened with being sent to an orphanage.

"Oi!" said Ron, "It'd be the orphanage for me, the first day. How did you learn to do it?"

Harry just looked at Ron. He really didn't know how Harry could figure out something as complicated as answering the phone. On the other hand, Harry was at a loss when he told Ron about walking down Charing Cross Road with Hagrid to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Couldn't you take the floo?" Ron asked.

Harry had never heard of traveling by floo so he mumbled something about "Apparently not," and turned his head to the window.

Harry turned back around at the sound of the compartment door opening. A girl poked her head into the compartment.

"Can we…?" she asked. She'd left the sentence hanging, unfinished, but it was clear she was asking permission for herself and at least one other person to enter. Ron and Harry scrambled to give the girl a space to sit, continuing to clear the rest of their gear off the seat for her companion.

"Hullo," said the first girl as she extended her hand to Ron, then to Harry. "Tracey. Tracey Davis."

"Ron Weasley," said Ron.

"Harry Potter."

Tracey's companion froze when she saw Harry. Harry stopped clearing space when he looked up and saw the second girl.

"You…" Harry tried.

"We…," the girl acknowledged. "Books."

"I didn't thank you properly," Harry said, pushing all of his things further to the side and knocking some to the cabin floor. "I apologize. I found used books for most of my classes. You saved me a bundle."

"Daphne," said the second girl as she extended her hand. "Greengrass."

Tracey still had not gotten her voice to work after Harry identified himself. Harry stepped across the cabin to Ron's seat and waved his hand at the now-empty place he had just vacated.

"Please," he said. The girls looked at one another. Neither spoke, but they clearly came to a decision and sat, both of them grasping the hems of their skirts and pulling down firmly, succeeding in just getting their knees under a bit of cover.

"Isn't your father in the Ministry?" Tracey asked Ron.

"Yep," Ron said with obvious pride. "Muggle Artifacts."

Ron's father was a minister, then. Harry tried to place Muggle Artifacts in the churches with which he was familiar. He'd seen signs for churches of various types, and the father of one of the students in his school turned up at school functions in his clerical garb, which is how Harry learned the man was the vicar at St. Herman the Bodger, an Anglican parish with roots in a long-vanished community of furniture makers.

Harry wanted to talk to his acquaintance from Flourish and Blotts more than he wanted to know about Ron's father's strange Ministry where wizards apparently worshipped Muggle Artifacts. He grabbed a random piece of their haul from the Trolley Witch and held it out to Daphne.

"Sweet?"

"Oh, a chocolate frog!" said Daphne, sounding quite pleased with Harry's tribute. She looked at Tracey.

"Want to share?"

"Sure," nodded Tracey. "Thanks, Harry."

"So, ladies," Ron began.

"Witches," said the two, in unison.

"So, witches," Ron tried again. "What's up?"

"Nothing today, except the sorting and Beginning-Of-Term Feast," Tracey said, adding, "According to the calendar."

"Calendar?" asked Harry.

"In the package that came with your letter," said Daphne. She looked at Tracey while dabbing her pinky at a sticky spot near the corner of her mouth.

Tracey pulled out a tissue and got rid of the chocolate.

"Ah," said Harry. "My relatives kept my letter from me."

The other three stopped talking and stared at Harry.

"That's not…"

"How could they?"

"That's got to be illegal…"

Plus a few others circulated while the group dealt with the conundrum.

"They're muggles and they get upset when they hear anything about magic," Harry explained. He didn't go further because he didn't understand it any more than the rest of the cabin did.

Daphne thought the conversation might be easier if it were redirected.

"I expect you want to go to Gryffindor, Ron," she said. "Didn't your whole family get sorted into Gryffindor?"

"Pretty much," said Ron. "My parents, and all my brothers. Ginny will be along next year, of course, so we'll see. I honestly don't care, although Slytherin might not be a good place for me. Some people have called us blood traitors."

The witches looked down, then snuck quick looks between themselves. The entire conversation had just passed completely outside Harry's frames of reference.

"What? Traitors? I don't understand," Harry said.

"Later," Ron muttered. He shook his head just slightly at the witches.

A chill had definitely descended on the cabin.

"Well," said Daphne. "Thank-you gentleman wizards for your hospitality. We were not in good company where we were, but now we'd better get changed, then we should to be coming to Hogsmeade. You ought to change, too. Hope you wizards get the house you want."

Daphne got up, smiled and gave Ron's hand one shake. Tracey was right behind her. Daphne didn't move on from Harry as quickly as Tracey anticipated, getting her a bump in the back. She held her place, and Harry's hand, not saying anything. Harry noticed her eyes glance one time at his hairline, the site of his famous lightning bolt scar. Tracey was getting jumpy, so Daphne cut things short.

"Good luck, Harry," she said. "Thank-you for everything. Have a wonderful year."

"Thank-you for the conversation," Harry said. "You have a wonderful year, too."

Tracey and Daphne left the cabin and walked down the corridor, Ron and Harry watching them go.

"Want to lower the shade?" Ron asked as he pulled down a soft shoulder bag and laid it on the seat. "That Tracey Davis…"

"Oh, did you like the way she looked?" Harry asked, suppressing a laugh as he figured out the window shades.

"Well, she's alright, I guess," Ron said, backtracking a little as he opened his neatly-packed bag.

"They both seemed nice, to me, anyway," Harry said. "We didn't ask them what house they want to go to."

"I'm guessing they'll be in Slytherin," said Ron. "I don't really know them, but I've heard of them, and their families, and I think that's where their parents were. If they do go to Slytherin I hope they don't go all Dark. I don't think they will. They seemed to have good attitudes."

"Dark?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sorry, forgot," said Ron. "Dark Magic. It's curses and lots of dirty tricks. I don't know a lot about it. Not fun stuff. Most of it is outlawed, but there are bad people among witches and wizards, just like there are among the muggles, and they can do bad things. Slytherin has had more trouble with people experimenting than the other houses."

"What do you know about the others?" Harry asked as he buttoned his white dress shirt. "This is all completely new to me, if you couldn't tell."

"All the houses have good and bad. Gryffindor is supposed to be for fighters, but my brother Percy is a Gryffindor prefect and I don't know if he could fight if his life depended on it. Percy is very smart. You'd think he'd have gone to Ravenclaw, which is supposed to be for the serious scholars. Hufflepuff's got a reputation for attracting slackers, but they stick together. One for all, all for one. Slytherin is for really ambitious people. Plus there is that Dark Magic reputation."

"Oh," Harry said. "That all makes sense. The houses have their own reputations, but the people are more of a mixture."

Ron looked off into space, thinking about what Harry said.

"I guess that's right," Ron said. "Never thought about it that way. Where do you want to go, now that you know a something about the houses?"

"Not sure I know enough to pick," Harry said. He touched his scar. "I may have to learn to defend myself. Oh, I have to learn everything. What difference does it make?"

The sorting ceremony was interesting enough. Harry tried to pay attention but standing with the other first years in the Great Hall, under the enchanted ceiling, with light supplied by great, oil-filled cauldrons, levitating candles and torches, he fought distraction throughout. First Tracey, then Daphne went to Slytherin, just as Ron had predicted. Draco Malfoy also went to Slytherin, making it easy for Harry to advise the Sorting Hat he'd gladly go anyplace BUT Slytherin. That evening, when it was too late to do anything about it, Harry's thoughts caught up to his actions and he began to feel he'd put his own dislike of Malfoy ahead of his concern for his new acquaintances. Maybe that bravery thing was overblown in Gryffindor. If he'd been in Slytherin he could have done something about the bottom-pinching. On the other hand, when the Sorting Hat said "Gryffindor!" and Harry got down from the stool, he'd glanced toward the Slytherins and Daphne had definitely winked at him, while Tracey gave him a subtle thumb's-up. Maybe they knew something he didn't know.

Ron, following family tradition, carried on the long line of Gryffindor Weasleys, his emotions divided between satisfaction at being among his brothers and disappointment that he would not be exploring new ground.

Harry didn't see much of Tracey and Daphne that week, although Gryffindor and Slytherin did have a shared potions class with Professor Snape. When Saturday arrived the September weather was glorious so Harry decided to take a long route to the Great Hall for lunch and went for a walk along the shore of the lake.

He was walking, a bit lost in thought, when he heard a familiar voice say, "Hi, Harry," as Daphne stepped out from behind a tree.

"Daphne!" Harry said. "I didn't see…Congratulations on getting sorted into Slytherin. Ron said he thought that was where you would go. Oh—sorry, I don't even know if that was where you wanted to go. Did I…?"

"No, you're right," Daphne laughed. "Sorry. Your whole face just went through the most interesting changes. Sure, I wanted to go to Slytherin. I have goals. Salazar Slytherin wanted students with ambition, then he believed he could show them how to achieve whatever they wanted to achieve. Whether he could do that or not is still being debated. It's definitely in the Slytherin House atmosphere, though. How about you?"

Harry barely knew Daphne, but something told him he could go ahead.

"I'm sorry, Daphne," he said. Harry looked around to be sure they were alone and he could speak freely. "I asked for anything BUT Slytherin. Malfoy went to Slytherin and I didn't want to have to spend the next few years bumping up against him. We seem to naturally dislike…and it wasn't until later that I realized that I'd thought of myself and not you, and Tracey, of course. Not very noble of me, was it?"

"Maybe not at first, but you're just getting used to thinking that way, aren't you?" Daphne said.

"That's…that's…," Harry stammered. "Thank-you!"

"Feel better?" Daphne asked.

"Lots!" Harry exclaimed. "I owe you."

"Very noble once again," laughed Daphne. "We were both glad to see you went to Gryffindor. We watched your interaction with Draco. Both of you in the same house might not…I agree this is better, for everyone. Professor Snape seemed a bit negative toward you, and Granger, too, in potions. Any idea why?"

"None," said Harry. "Something about me sets him off. As for Hermione, she's a fanatic for the books. Maybe she is just a smarty-pants to the Professor."

"Is she a smarty-pants?" Daphne asked, stifling a giggle with the end of the bell sleeve of her gown.

"Well, uh…," Harry tried. The giggling got louder. "Not as such. She prepares…knows her lessons…"

Daphne had to turn away, but Harry could see her shoulders going up and down.

"It's alright," Daphne said when she turned back around. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Granger works, hard. She might not realize other people do, too, and don't feel the need to answer every question in every class and show disappointment when they aren't called upon. Being prepared is good. Showing off isn't. A friend, a good one who cared enough, might do her a big favor by pointing that out. In a NICE way, of course."

Harry looked at Daphne and nodded, slowly.

"Yes, one could," he said.

Harry and Daphne walked slowly along the path, the gravel crunching underfoot. Neither one felt compelled to speak, so neither did. Their walk came to an end at the great doors, much too soon, in Harry's estimation.

"This was nice," Harry said.

"It was," said Daphne. "I'll just…"

She gave a little gesture toward the door. Harry nodded and let her go ahead. He counted to sixty before he opened the postern and stepped inside.

"Potter!" said Draco Malfoy. "Just in time. You can watch your girlfriend learn a lesson about the penalty for keeping bad company."

Draco was right in front of him, Daphne about ten feet back with two thuggish boys in Slytherin robes, each with a fistful of Daphne's robe in hand. Harry assessed that Draco and the two toadies had seen him walking with Daphne and set up an ambush. Now that he had arrived, they'd carry out their plan, whatever that was. Judging by Draco's tone, Harry thought it must be a very distasteful plan.

Harry looked Draco in the eye.

"Let her go, Malfoy," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "Then I'll let you take your best shot at me."

The two goons started to laugh.

"Scrawny little git," said one.

"Oh, you will? No," Draco began. He didn't get any further.

Harry had escaped a beating from his cousin Dudley one time by putting everything he had into one uppercut to Dudley's chin. Draco was so close Harry didn't double up his fist. He left his right hand open and sent the heel straight up to Draco's chin, which snapped back out of the way letting Harry's arm extend to its full length while teeth went flying and a suddenly-limp Draco Malfoy flopped backward onto the stone floor.

Harry looked down and saw that Draco held his wand in his right hand so he bent over and took it, straightening up with the wand tip pointed at the goon to his left.

"Can you find the way to the dispensary?" Harry asked. "I won't say anything as long as you Slytherins don't."

The two dropped their hands from Daphne's robe and hurried over to Draco. They got him to his feet and started for the staircase.

"My teef," Draco announced, "My teef feel funny."

Harry and Daphne watched them go then closed the short distance between them.

Daphne pinned Harry's arms to his sides and whispered, "Thank-you. Thank-you. Thank-you. Are you all right?"

"It's fine," Harry said, "And you're welcome. How are you? Did they hurt you? Can you go in and eat your dinner? Oh, and here."

Harry wiggled out of Daphne's bear hug, took a step back and handed over Malfoy's wand.

"It's yours," Daphne said. "That's the rule. You defeated Draco in fair battle, one-on-one, and disarmed him. The wand will be loyal to you if you want to take the time to work with it."

"I like mine," Harry said. "Besides, you can make him do what you want as a condition for getting it back. Make him promise to keep himself and those other two away from you. You and Tracey. I think he'd rather die than admit he had to make a promise to obey a girl as a condition for getting his own wand back."

"You're in the right house, Harry," Daphne said, "but your thinking is pure Slytherin."

She gave him a grin that was worldly beyond their years, an expression Harry hadn't seen before. He didn't know what it meant, but it was a good look for the plain, pale, skinny girl. Harry smiled back before making a subtle motion with his hand.

"Better get to dinner," he said, "You'll be missed. Someone might make the connection."

Once more Harry counted to sixty before following Daphne through the door.

Most of the school appeared to be seated as Harry crossed the hall to the Gryffindor table. He tried to look at the Slytherins out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't make out very much. If Harry really needed to see something he had to look straight ahead through his glasses, and that wasn't what he wanted to do right then. He found a seat next to Ron Weasley and across from Neville Longbottom.

"Better dig in, the elves have to keep dinner on schedule," Ron advised Harry, who began to fill his plate. He'd taken what he thought was an adequate amount of chicken and mashed potatoes and was about to commence eating when he looked over at the Slytherin table.

Daphne Greengrass took a bite of some salad greens and began chewing slowly. She was looking straight at Harry.

After that, Harry went out of his way every day to minimize contact with Daphne. He knew he got the wrong kind of attention from some of her housemates, so keeping his distance was a gesture of respect. Harry's instincts told him Daphne had come to Hogwarts for a witch's education, not to become an object of contention between student factions. Harry worked at keeping her out of his personal conflicts. Still, when they passed in the corridor between classes, both found it impossible to keep their eyes averted. They each thought the quick look, eye contact and shared smile was their own personal secret.

Their joint illusion imploded just before end of term. Harry was under observation in the infirmary following some harrowing adventure or other involving a rogue professor. Everything had happened in some forgotten rooms deep inside the castle. No one was supposed to know the details, but it was whispered that Harry Potter had had some kind of encounter with the Dark Lord Voldemort and was laid up in the infirmary.

Daphne waited until she could see Harry alone before appearing at his bedside. She peeked around the screen and stepped next to his bed. Harry was dozing so Daphne took a fruit basket off the seat of the side chair and sat down. She decided not to wake him. Maybe he needed rest more than anything. The flowers, candy and cards on every nearby surface said he'd had plenty of visitors.

Sitting at Harry's bedside, hands in her lap, watching over him while he slept, Daphne was unaware of her thoughts slipping out of her control. Daphne worked hard in all her classes. She had a disciplined mind, for eleven. She thought someday she might like a career as a scholar. Prior to that moment she had not considered seriously what she wanted for a personal life. She had assumed that someday she would live away from her parents but didn't put any detail in the picture. She looked at Harry's head on the pillow, his face at rest, the sheet going up and down with his breathing, eyeglasses on the bedside stand next to the water tumbler, and words formed, unbidden: My husband…

"No!" she told herself. What could she be thinking? She had to banish that thought from her mind. They were twelve! Not quite, actually.

The whole thing made her so uncomfortable she stood up, bumping the chair backwards as she rose. The scrape of the chair startled Harry, who awoke and sat up all at once. Harry started patting the bedside stand looking for his glasses, until Daphne took his free hand in her fingertips.

"Here," Daphne said, then, "Don't hex me, please, Harry, it's Daphne."

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, laying his wand down on the sheet. "I couldn't see it was you."

"May I?" Daphne asked, pointing at the chair.

"Of course," Harry said. "Help yourself to anything you want."

He waved his hand at the abundant treats around his bed.

"When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago," Daphne said. "I thought I'd…I thought we'd be better off if I waited until you were alone and we could talk. Otherwise, the people who don't want us to be friends…"

"I understand," Harry said. He was so happy Daphne had come up to the hospital ward to visit him he stopped paying attention to anything besides her.

"I hope you didn't mind me keeping my distance all year," Harry began. "I didn't want to, but I knew you would hear about it. Maybe, in the future, next year…"

Something started to thaw inside Daphne when Harry said 'future.' Embedded in the word was the thought that Harry Potter believed that he and Daphne Greengrass HAD a future. The shape and scope were undetermined, but there was a future of some kind for them, somehow. Even at not-quite-twelve, something resonates with that thought.

Harry heard footsteps and thought Madame Pomfrey must be coming to check on him when he saw the hand grasping the portable screen, until the screen was shoved aside to reveal not Madame Pomfrey, but Draco Malfoy along with his toadies Crabbe and Goyle.

"Merlin what a disgusting sight," Malfoy spat. "Pureblood Greengrass sitting at this half-blood's bedside. You should have died down there, Potter, saved us all a lot of trouble. Get up Greengrass, you're coming with us, you muggle-loving blood traitor."

Goyle stood closest to Daphne and reached out for her arm. Harry saw it happening and thought, "Accio Daphne!"while opening up hisarm. Daphne seemed to hop the foot or two between herself and Harry, and he pulled her tight to himself. Goyle kept coming, still reaching, so Harry grabbed Goyle's wrist with his free hand and thought back to his battle with Professor Quirrell, trying to feel the same way he did when he saw Quirrell's face becoming charcoal under his touch.

Harry felt the roar in his ears as much as he heard it, the bloodlust of battle that displaced fear, took delight in the pain he was inflicting on his enemy, making the knave pay for presuming that he could touch Harry's friend with impunity.

"Ahh…ahh…AAAGHHHHH!" Goyle cried out, his eyes truly saucer-like.

Harry saw Draco reach inside his robes and put all of his power and focus into "Accio wand!"

He let Goyle go and opened up his hand, closing when Draco's wand hit his palm.

"Malfoy!" Harry said, nearly shouting while he pointed Malfoy's own wand at his nose. "Think about it. Didn't you promise…?"

"You…you…," Malfoy stammered, looking back and forth between them. It was unclear just which one was to be the recipient of his protest. Had he thought they had any reason to preserve his dignity in front of the other two hooligans?

"You did, Draco," said Daphne, the calm, witchly authority coming through. "Tell the truth. You promised you would leave me alone, and make sure Crabbe and Goyle did the same. I talked to you in private, then, as a favor. If you tell the truth now I'll ask Harry to give your wand back to you, again. Otherwise you'll just have to go home to Malfoy Manor and explain why you need a new one."

Draco Malfoy's face fell and his breath became ragged gasps. If they all weren't so young he might have been an old, old man in rales, anticipating the release of Death. Draco would have done any number of distasteful things rather than admit it, but that really wasn't among the available options, so he did the very last thing he wanted to do and confessed.

"Yes. I did," he said. He tried to put some defiance in his face but he had no ground at all to stand on.

"Okay," said Harry. "Daphne has immunity from your attentions, and you are honor-bound to keep her safe from these two. You are free to take your wand and return to the Slytherin common room."

Harry handed the wand back to Draco, even though it didn't really want to go, forcing Draco to take a firm grip just to keep it from flying back to Harry.

Harry kept his arm around Daphne's waist and she laid her hand on his shoulder as they watched the intruders walk down the ward all the way to the exit.

"Oh!" Harry said, realizing what he'd done and unwrapping his arm. "I'm so sorry, seriously!"

Daphne giggled, a very girlish giggle, and looked down at Harry.

"It's alright, really, Harry," she said. "You actually saved me, from something. Three of them, one of you. Kind of scary, but nice, too."

Daphne made a little gesture, raising her hand and turning her head slightly toward the door.

"I probably should…"

"Go? Be sure and take some of the goodies. You don't have to tell the Slytherins where you got it," Harry said.

"Not all the Slytherins hate you, Harry, or even dislike you," Daphne said, "It's just that the ones who do make it difficult for everyone else. Besides, you've already noticed the rivalry makes Gryffindor better, which makes Slytherin work harder to beat Gryffindor, so everyone benefits."

"That's pretty smart, Daphne. Did you come up with that yourself?"

"Yep, one night over the Standard Book of Spells. I was determined your chum Granger was not going to get the top score again," Daphne said.

"March. She started studying even harder," said Harry.

Daphne's eyes twinkled.

"You noticed!" she said as she filled her big bell sleeve. It looked to Harry like she was harvesting his chocolate frogs.

"Thanks in advance, from Tracey, too," she said.

Daphne paused, seemed to think something over, then leaned in close and pecked Harry on the cheek, before turning for the door without another word.

"Was that Miss Greengrass, Mr. Potter?"

Madame Pomfrey had just returned to the ward, apparently.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry. "She volunteered to help clean up some of this mess."

He gestured around his bed.

"Did she?" asked a smiling Madame Pomfrey. "What an impressive young witch."

Harry stood next to his trunk on the Hogsmeade station platform, waiting for an elf, when Daphne walked by with Tracey.

"You know the Slytherins always take the last car, I suppose," Daphne said. Harry got the distinct impression Tracey was functioning as a lookout.

"I've heard," Harry answered. Daphne pressed a little envelope into his hand.

"Got to go, for now," Daphne said. She squeezed his hand as she and Tracey started down the platform, or perhaps she just wanted to make sure he had a grip on the little envelope. When Harry got a chance to open it, he pulled out a small note card with 'Daphne Greengrass' in raised letters on the front leaf. Inside was a handwritten message: "Your owl will find me at Flinty Fields Farm, Devon. Happy Summer! D."