Slytherins & Escape

Did Harry truly understand the choice he had made? Did he grasp the weight of the person he had chosen to stand beside?

Daphne needed to know. Certainty eluded her, and her heart was aching for answers.

"Harry," she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "Did you truly mean what you said yesterday? That you'd be my partner?"

Harry stopped walking and turned to her, his green eyes piercing through the icy morning air. Daphne kept her gaze fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet his stare, unsure of what she'd see if she did.

"You don't really know me," she said hesitantly, her voice trembling. "Not truly. If you commit to me like this, it will only bring you pain. I've… I've given up hope for myself. But you… you still have so much ahead of you. You could have a good life without me dragging you down."

Her words were cut off as she felt his hand clasp hers, firm but gentle. Surprised, she looked up, and for the first time, she found herself locked in the depths of his emerald gaze. She had always been faintly captivated by the unusual brilliance of his eyes but had never allowed herself to dwell on it.

Now, his face was inches from hers, and his hands held hers as though they were lifelines.

"Daphne," he said, his voice filled with unyielding conviction, "I meant every word I said yesterday. Nothing has changed. I'm your partner, and I'll stand by you. Always."

His breath warmed her face, and to her dismay, tears welled up in her eyes again. She didn't recognize herself lately. Since when had she become this vulnerable?

"But," she stammered, "would you really give up everything—the life you could have… even risk your humanity for this?"

Harry's grip on her hands tightened, and he stepped closer. "What life? What humanity? What I've lived these past few years… it wasn't living. It was surviving, enduring. From the moment I first saw you in Diagon Alley, I knew there was something different about you. That fleeting smile you gave, as though you rarely allowed yourself to smile, but when you did, it was so… genuine. Beautiful. It's haunted me ever since. Every time I hear your voice or see your face, I feel something I've never felt before, like I'm truly alive."

His voice grew more intense with each word, and Daphne found herself unable to look away.

"I've learned so much about you, and about myself, in just a short time," he continued. "We want the same thing: freedom. To be free from all the chains that hold us back. I don't want this to be the end for us, Daphne. I'm willing to risk everything to create something better. Together."

Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, words failed her.

Harry glanced away briefly, his expression darkening. "There's just one thing I can't stop thinking about. You told me your parents made you regret speaking to me that day in Diagon Alley. Did they… did they hurt you because of me?"

His voice cracked, and when he looked back at her, his eyes brimmed with guilt.

Daphne's chest tightened. She knew what he was feeling, and it pained her to see him burdened with guilt that wasn't his to carry. Gently, she released his hands and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He was tense, so much more so than the comforting embrace they'd shared the previous evening.

"Harry, don't do this to yourself," she murmured. "You don't have to carry that weight. My parents hurt me constantly, with or without reason. What happened then wasn't your fault. It never was."

She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, and she saw tears streaming down his cheeks. His face twisted with an anger so fierce it startled her.

"I'll kill them," he spat through clenched teeth. "For what they've done to you… they don't deserve to live."

Tears spilled from her own eyes, and they clung to each other as they wept. Time slipped away, unnoticed and unimportant, until finally their tears ran dry. They pulled back slightly, gazing into each other's eyes with a mutual understanding that words could never capture.

"Harry," Daphne whispered, "I'm afraid. There are parts of me I don't understand… parts I fear. And now, I'm terrified for you."

"I'm scared too," he admitted. "But with you, I've found something worth facing those fears for. Life has always been suffering, but with you by my side, I think we can endure it. Maybe even change it."

A tentative smile broke across her face, and she hugged him again, more tightly this time. "Yes. Together, we'll be free. I believe that."

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Daphne felt a spark of hope. Whatever their path held, pain, struggle, or worse—she wouldn't face it alone. She had Harry now. The thought filled her with a warmth she hadn't known she could feel.

As the day wore on, they found themselves sitting at their usual spot at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Despite the crowd around them, it felt as though they were in their own little bubble, isolated from the world. Harry poured fresh pumpkin juice for both of them, and an unspoken ease settled between them, though their glances showed the tense emotions beneath the surface.

Finally, Daphne broke the silence. "Harry, we need to talk about that cloak you got for Christmas."

Harry looked at her, his brow furrowed. "You mean the Invisibility Cloak?"

She nodded. "I don't like that we don't know who sent it. It's risky, keeping something like that without knowing its origins."

"You've been thinking about this," Harry observed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Daphne shrugged. "Of course. Whoever gave it to you must have known your parents. They clearly had some connection to your father, at least. But how did it get to you? I'm almost certain the house-elves put it on your bed, which means they either trusted whoever delivered it or were instructed by someone they trust."

Harry considered this. "So you think it's someone at Hogwarts."

"I do," she replied firmly. "And that narrows it down. There are very few people here who would have known your parents well enough to have something like that."

"You're thinking Dumbledore," Harry guessed.

Daphne nodded, a spark of approval in her eyes. "Exactly. He was your parents' headmaster, and he seems like the type to hold onto something this important. If anyone here could have sent it, it's him."

Harry's gaze shifted to the staff table. Dumbledore's seat was conspicuously empty. "Then we need to talk to him."

Daphne's expression hardened with determination. "Agreed."

Together, they rose from the table and made their way toward the staff. They bypassed Snape, ignoring the acidic glare he shot their way, and stopped in front of Professor McGonagall.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry greeted.

McGonagall's sharp eyes flicked between the two of them. "Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass. To what do I owe this early visit?"

"We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "It's urgent."

McGonagall's brow furrowed. "The headmaster is a very busy man. Might I suggest taking your concerns to your head of house first?"

"It's a family matter," Daphne interjected smoothly. "Something only the headmaster can address."

McGonagall studied them for a moment before sighing. "Very well. Follow me."

She led them through the castle to a gargoyle statue, muttered, "Caramel eclairs," and motioned them onto the spiral staircase that appeared. Soon, they were standing in Dumbledore's office, the room brimming with strange artifacts and magical energy.

"Wait here," McGonagall instructed before leaving.

They waited in silence, exchanging glances but saying nothing, wary of the portraits' watchful eyes. Finally, the door creaked open, and Dumbledore entered, his robes slightly singed, his expression weary but kind.

"Good morning," he said, his voice gentle but commanding. "What brings you here, my young friends?"

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