3

Chapter III: Face to Face

(Harry P.O.V)

Harry awoke to the warmth of his Kneazle's breath on his cheeks, his eyes flashing open as he found himself on a bed that felt as if the cushions had been replaced with crushed stones, the gleaming red rubies that acted as the eyes of a gargoyle statue looking over him. Harry sat up looking down at his body, the poorly applied bandages from Moody had been removed leaving him with nothing but baren scars. It also quickly donned upon him that he was currently resting naked, apart from his underwear in the stone bed, his dress robes nowhere to be found.

"What happened?" Harry whispered into the darkness as he rubbed his forehead, his scar still throbbing from Morgana's little experiment. "What time is it?" Harry muttered out, looking for any light from the windows finding none present in the room. "Where's Moody?" He grumbled, throwing the sheets off, exposing his unclothed body to the chill of the castle.

Though it hadn't lasted long as Harry soon found a set of clothes laid out for him atop a small desk that resided in the corner of the rather confined corridor. Had Harry been the size of an elf, he imagined that the room would have worked as equitable accommodations, but for a boy of average size, the room was criminally small. Harry swallowed that thought, the draft within the castle making him shiver as he approached the desk, his eyes carefully examining the clothes.

The material looked soft enough, Harry's hands running over what he believed to be enchanted cloth, but the style looked like something out of a storybook. He lifted the shirt, rather, he lifted the tunic provided to him, the material glowing with a purple hue. Jokes on her, Harry thought to himself, Purple's my favorite color too. Though his thoughts fell silent as his eyes caught sight of the sigil that resided on the back, a crow, but no ordinary crow. The bird looked to be the size of Fawkes, and Harry couldn't help but notice the singular purple eye that dwelled in the bird's forehead.

Harry shivered as he pulled the tunic on over his head, his eyes then falling to the black trousers which tightened towards the ankles, before seeing the brown heeled boots at the bottom of the desk. "At least I'll be matching," Harry muttered, sliding the pants on over his legs before tucking his feet into the boots. Harry fidgeted slightly with his shirt, it was far tighter than what Harry was normally accustomed to, though through his jitters, he caught a glimpse of a letter, written in Moody's handwriting stuck to the corner of the desk.

Harry reached forward, gripping the letter as he scanned the shotty penmanship: Potter, once you are up, report to the dining hall immediately. Your cat knows the way, according to Morgana all you have to do is ask him to show you the way. Don't delay… she'll know. Harry swallowed at the last words, the cawing of a crow from just beyond the walls of the cramped chamber made Harry recognize how even in a room with no windows, he was still being watched.

Loki meowed, regaining his attention as Harry nodded signaling he was ready before he whispered, "Alright boy, show me where Morgana is." The kneazle meowed once more, before, with the speed of a cheetah, Loki bolted from the room, forcing Harry into a full sprint to simply keep up. Though as Harry weaved in between halls and up stairwells, he couldn't help but look down at his once injured body in amazement. Legend always held Morgana as a Dark Witch and enemy of Merlin, of that, Harry had no doubt, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that tales of her medical genius may have even been understated.

Big castles weren't exactly something that was unfamiliar to Harry, yet the size of Morgana's had left Harry in sheer amazement, his breath becoming slightly ragged by the time Harry had arrived at the large blackened-oak double doors. Harry had done Loki the courtesy of following him, but if Harry was being truthful to himself, even with the witch at rest, he had felt Morgana's overwhelming magic from four floors away. He had once read that ghosts lose about fifty-percent of their magical aura when they die, their life force no longer being well… existent. That thought had done nothing but humble Harry, however, as while he stood before the doors that led to the Dark Witch's Dining Hall, he was forced to admit he'd never been so far out of somebody's league. The difference in power between him and Voldemort looking almost insignificant when compared to the cavernous gap he felt between his power and the Dark Witch's Ghost.

Yet Harry knew he couldn't allow even the slightest ounce of fear to cloud his heart. He was certain that Morgana somehow knew everything he would do before even he did, and he knew that fear would not be something Morgana would have taken a liking to, especially not from her 'student'. Harry swallowed, steeling himself before he knocked on the door, "Lady Morgana, I'm here as you requested, may I enter."

The doors swung open without a response as he found his eyes locked with the ghost, her legs crossed as she sat regally upon the chair that sat at the head of the table. "Ah, so you survived the night, excellent. I was frightened that you may have keeled over and died, I would have been terribly bored had that been the case. The healing waters can be, quite taxing after all, but it seems you managed to see another day." The witch snapped as Harry saw a plate of food consisting mostly of oatmeal appear before him, "Sit," She spoke curtly, "Eat. The less time we waste the better."

"Where's Moody?" Harry asked, though he instantly wished he hadn't as once more he'd found himself dangling helplessly in the air, Morgana's eyes piercing him like bullets.

"When addressing me," Morgana hissed, "You shall call me Lady Morgana or Mistress. Do you understand, little crow?" Harry nodded, knowing he hadn't a chance at offering even a sliver of resistance, his body falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud as Morgana released a sigh, "Honestly, pupils these days, so disrespectful of their masters. Even the fools that followed Merlin addressed him with respect." Harry rubbed his neck, Morgana's eyes catching him once again, directing him towards the table, an order which Harry knew better than to ignore.

Harry sat at the far end of Morgana, the witch treating him as if he was not even worthy to be in her sight as they dined. Though the witch wasn't exactly in a state to ingest anything. "If you must know boy," Morgana said, "Alastor is preparing your first trial."

"What exactly is my first trial?" Harry asked before his eyes widened at Morgana's ire, "Lady Morgana," He tagged on quickly.

The witch groaned before she continued, "There are certain steps you need to fulfill if you hope to successfully survive the merging process. The first is we must strengthen your body. As I demonstrated to you last night, when your foreign core is disrupted your body begins to fail you. It is imperative you gain the physical stamina to at least remain conscious." The witch turned towards the exit of the dining hall, "The training will be intensive as I have little time to prepare you, but I promise you that the second step of this process will be far more agonizing."

Man, I miss having Sirius as a teacher, Harry sighed mentally as he shoved a spoon of oatmeal into his mouth, At least he didn't make me feel like I was going to die at every step. That thought vanished from Harry's mind as Morgana whispered, "This Sirius must not have given you an adequate training then," The Witch's eyes had locked once more with his as she continued, "And before you even think it, yes, I did read your mind. Moody informs me that you are also capable of passive legilimency, it is a useful skill we will develop more over your time here. If precise enough," The witch's eyes instantly fell upon Harry, and Harry roared out in agony gripping his hair as it felt like his mind was melting, "It can be a useful tool in defeating weaker opponents with ease."

Harry sighed as the pressure surrounding his mind vanished, his bowl disappearing too as his face planted directly into the glass table with a thud. "It also appears that your occlumency is wholly inadequate. It acts almost as if you were not the one to set it in place from the origin. Another thing we will have to correct." The witch placed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose, pinching it as if she wasn't translucent, "Moody certainly gave me nothing but a lump of clay to work with. How I will make a work of art out of you I know not, but we must try, I will not allow my legend to be slandered by a pathetic wizard fated to duel you."

"Follow me, boy," Morgana called out, "We've wasted enough time. And leave your wand here, you won't be needing it for this part of the exercise." Harry hadn't liked the tone in the witch's voice, but for only the second time in his life, Harry had felt completely helpless. For a moment, Harry wondered if Dobby would have been able to reach the castle, but the thought of the young house-elf only brought a stabbing pain to his heart as the image of the sunk-nosed elf took Dobby's place.

"I promise you, the next time we meet, I'll be strong enough to protect all of you!" The memory of Harry's promise rang in his head as with a growl he withdrew his wand, placing it on the dining table. I won't fail, Harry affirmed himself, Never again. He quickened his pace, the feeling of his wand no longer in his holster left him feeling uncomfortably unguarded as he followed the witch, Loki right on his heels.

One spiral staircase, then another, followed by a long back corridor, Harry was honestly beginning to feel unsure if even the Mistress of the castle was aware of where they were going until Harry abruptly stopped, watching as the ghost flew through a steel door. Harry reached out for the door handle, pulling it back as Morgana turned to face him, "I suggest that you tell your cat to wait outside. If he enters this room, he's unlikely to survive."

Harry nodded, waving his hand in a motion which caused Loki to stop, though his kneazle certainly hadn't seemed happy about it before Morgana waved him to enter. He did so, though admittedly not as confident as he would have liked to. The creaking of the metallic door sealing behind him sending chills down her spine. He gazed around the room, apart from the metallic door, the space itself seemed plush. The walls and floor were aligned with magic absorbing training mats, though the room became far more ominous as Harry took notes of the bodies that laid discarded on the ground.

Instantly a chill raced down Harry's spine as Morgana snapped, a conjured rusty blade forming at Harry's feet. "W-what are those things," He whispered, all sense of formality thrown out the window as he gazed sickeningly at the sight that rested before him.

"My thralls. Men who dared to enter my kingdom but failed to amuse me," Morgana said, boredom lacing her words, "Worry not Potter, at worst all I'd do to you is work you to death, I wouldn't force you to remain a prisoner here. You've intrigued me at least enough to warrant that."

Thanks, Harry muttered his eyes looking at the bodies once more this time illuminated by Morgana's purple flames. Harry had wanted to puke, the bodies were riddled with holes, parts of their faces removed or decayed, an ominous groaning leaving their throats as Morgana snapped reviving them. "Worry not, none of them are capable of performing magic, each of them is simply a dirty muggle." Morgana yawned, "Not that it's important anyway, training your skill with a wand obviously isn't the purpose of this exercise."

"What is the purpose of this exercise," Harry said his eyes still trembling at the monsters in front of him."

"What is the purpose of this exercise, Mistress?" Morgana corrected him before she continued, "This exercise serves a dual purpose, lift up that sword boy." Harry glanced down at the rusty blade lifting it by the handle. Harry grunted, his knuckles turning white as he tried to pull it from the ground. He'd finally been able to do so, but his arm muscles felt as if they were tearing at the seams, still exhausted from the previous healing experience before with a snap of her fingers. Harry fell to the floor, the gravity in the room increasing rapidly.

"Ah I see, I was hoping for better results but no matter, you'll just have to manage." Harry glanced back at the Dark Witch who continued, "The point of this exercise is two-fold. The first is to strengthen your stamina. That sword you tried to hold is roughly around twenty-five kilograms, and the gravity in this room is currently at two times that of normal earths'. However, it will increase to the maximum limit for humans, around four and a half times that of earths over time'."

Harry groaned pulling himself up to his feet, his legs trembling. "As you can tell," Morganna started once more, "I've placed you in a situation in which you have no chance of emerging victorious. This is only strengthened by the fact that so long as my magic courses through my thralls, you shall be unable to kill them. Which leads me to the second part of this training, unlocking the full extent of your passive legilimency. Moody informed me that you have something of a natural gift for that ability. In pushing you to your absolute limit, we will see if your passive legilimency blooms or withers away."

"Use the sword if you'd like, it's not a mandate by any measure," Morgana said, "But under no circumstances are you allowed to use any other magic besides legilimency, wandless or otherwise." Harry's eyes glared into Morgana as she turned her back on him, with Moody retreating to a corner, "I've instructed my thralls not to kill you, so you may take some solace in that if you wish, but I didn't exactly give them any other restrictions. Moody will be outside watching you via his eye should he need to take you back to the restorative pool due to injury. With that said, I'll be back in two hours, try not to disappoint me."

(Daphne P.O.V)

Daphne rubbed her inscribed wrist, the image of Harry's smiling face coming to her mind, bringing the slightest grin to her own lips. Harry, I hope you're doing alright, She whispered in her mind before shaking the thought away, her eyes glancing towards her own calendar. "A week off," She muttered angrily, "I get that she wants me to rest, but how the hell am I going to get better if I don't train. I'll have plenty of time to rest when the war is over. Why is-"

Daphne hadn't even a chance to finish her thought as Tracey barged into her room. Well technically it wasn't her room, it was the Davis' guest room, but considering Daphne had made it her residence for years, she wished the auburn-haired girl would learn to knock. Yet, she was forced to swallow her thought as the look on Tracey's face was filled with determination. Along with training with Blaise, Daphne had assigned the two espionage sleuths a secondary mission, finding anything related to the blood-curse put on their family, and by the glint in her best friend's eyes, it was clear she found something. The only thing Daphne wasn't sure of was if that something was bad or good.

"Went to the ministry with my dad," She panted out, "Snuck into family record room," The girl's voice was ragged, Daphne for a moment believing that she'd ran back home from the ministry on her own two feet rather than used the floo. "Found this," She muttered out handing a sweat-stained paper over to her. "Looked at the timeline of deaths in your family, first case was one Agusto Greengrass, died of, and I quote, mysterious curse of the blood. Year, 1654."

The words of her father raced to her head, "We've been cursed for centuries." It matched up, though considering the Ministry of Magic hadn't been formed until 1707, she was amazed that the record was still in condition, though she supposed that her bloodline being a part of the sacred-twenty-eight did something to preserve their history. "Now all you have to do is figure out just what kind of business your family was getting involved with back then, and we may be able to track down any survivors of that family's line. We may be able to save Astoria!"

Save Astoria, For so long the words had sounded like a dream to her but now, now they had felt real, painfully real. "Dobby," She called out, a pop filling the room as the eager elf appeared before her, his tennis-ball-sized eyes burning into her with vigor.

"Dobby is here Miss Greeny!" The elf said, bouncing up and down like a loose spring, "How can Dobby help Miss Greeny."

"Dobby, I want you to listen carefully," Daphne said, gripping the elf's shoulder, "I need you to apparate to the Greengrass Manor, I need you to ensure that my father is not home. If you get even the slightest glimpse of him I want you to come back here immediately. He's a dangerous man."

"Dobby will do as Miss Greeny asks," Dobby said, "But why does Miss Greeny care about who is at Miss Greeny's home."

"I need to make a visit," Daphne whispered, "I need to find something very important."

"Dobby can not allow Miss Greeny to do that," Dobby said defiantly, "Dobby can not let Miss Greeny go somewhere dangerous. To let Miss Greeny go somewhere dangerous would make Dobby and bad elf!"

"Dobby," Daphne whispered firmly, "I can handle this. Plus, it's why I'm telling you to make sure the house is clear first. It has to be me Dobby, I can't have you get what I need." Dobby whimpered as Daphne looked down at the elf, "Dobby, please, I need you to help me."

Dobby nodded, "Okay, Dobby will help, Dobby will do what Miss Greeny asks."

"Thank you, Dobby," Daphne whispered, "You are a great elf, and don't let anyone tell you differently, okay?"

A smile that seemed larger than the elf's face shone brightly before he wiped a tear from his eye, "Miss Greeny is too kind to Dobby. Dobby is lucky to serve a witch like Miss Greeny." Daphne hadn't even a chance to respond as with another crack Dobby had vanished. Daphne had felt a cold chill come over her as she looked at the spot where the elf once stood. "It was your father," Harry's words echoed in her mind, the panic and shame she felt knowing how responsible her father had been in bringing back such a foul wizard. "Be safe Dobby," She whispered as she tucked her legs closer to her chest, "Be safe."

The seconds passed like hours, the minutes, like days. She had just sent her elf into the place she once called home, a home now controlled by a Death Eater. I shouldn't go, she whispered to herself, If I get captured, it's just something they can use against Harry. But, she bit her lip, I need to save Astoria, her life is my priority. She turned to face Tracey, her crystal blue eyes staring at her friend, "You're not seriously thinking of going to your house right now, are you? Even if your dad isn't there, he could be back any second. What if he finds you? What if-"

"I have to figure out if there's a way to save Astoria," Daphne whispered, "And I just- I can't believe that my father would kill me even if he did find me, I can't believe it." Daphne's eyes locked with Tracey's as she whispered, "But if things go wrong, and I'm not back in half an hour, don't come looking for me, and don't tell anyone. I can't risk Harry finding out something's gone wrong and disturbing his training."

"Don't you think that your safety would be more important to him than his training to him?" Tracey hissed back.

"I know it is," Daphne whispered, "Which is why under no circumstances can he find out that I'm in danger. Defeating Voldemort, that needs to be his priority, not just for his sake, but for all of us." Dobby flashed back into the room, quickly delivering the news that the house was empty. "Look, Tracey, everything is probably going to be fine. I was just telling you- you know, just in case."

Daphne hadn't even given her friend a chance to question her plan further, she knew that what she was planning was dangerous, but there wasn't any choice. Her sister was dying, nothing mattered more than that. She gave Tracey one last encouraging nod before with a crack, she vanished.

Daphne landed gracefully in the living room of her couch, though she was surprised to have been allowed entrance so easily. Dobby's ability to pop in and out of the house was one thing, no wizards, especially those of Pure-Blood even considered the possibility of ensuring their security wards kept out House Elves, the Pure-Blood wizards incapable of believing anything other than another Pure-Blood wizard was capable of defeating them. What had surprised her was that she was still keyed into the manor's wards. If I'm still keyed in here, She thought to herself, Then surely I'll still be able to access the grimoire.

Daphne scanned ensuring nothing had been moved out of place by her entrance, the house looking exactly how she remembered it. The pure green walls colored the living room, a testament to their last name, the cool beech wood floors carpeted perfectly with an array of light colors. The pillows on the sofas were as meticulously placed as Daphne remembered, her mother had always been a fan of perfection, and the overwhelming scent of floral arrangements from the back-garden, her mother's true pride and joy carried through the house.

For a moment, it had felt almost nostalgic, her eyes glancing through the windows seeing the large backyard that she and Astoria would spend the summers running through. She saw the old enchanted playground that her father had constructed for her and Astoria in their pre-Hogwarts days, the wooden fort aligned with slides and rope bridges, and a small room at the entrance of the fort that Daphne had played make-believe in, transforming it into her own little clinic where Astoria would constantly play the role of a patient. A tear streamed down her cheek as she whispered, "Father, why?"

She swallowed, shaking her head furiously. She wasn't a child anymore, and this wasn't some vacation spot. She was in enemy territory, and her father, a man she had once admired was nothing more than an obstacle in her path. The man that built you that forth, She affirmed to herself, He's dead and buried, it's time to move on. Get your shit together and focus on the family you do have. The notion made her throat feel hot, but there was nothing else to do as she turned her back to the window, her feet carrying her closer and closer to the manor's library.

It was almost as if she was a child, sneaking down into her father's library way past her bedtime to read. Her shoes glided across the floorboards, her memories flooding her mind as she sidestepped each creeky board, knowing each by heart. Though as much as she wished she could ignore it, she couldn't stop her eyes from glancing at the family photos that line the hall. A picture of her riding her father's shoulders. "Faster Daddy, Faster!" She couldn't help but freeze as she glanced at the photo her mother had taken of them in Diagon Alley, her father following a parade line that lined the streets during Halloween with her on his shoulders.

Damn it, Daphne hissed her forehead pressed against the wall, I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! Daphne's fist curled tighter than ever before as she held a scream in her throat. Why? She asked herself, Why did you abandon me when I needed you, father? Daphne had felt the gently tugging of her shirt by the elf who whispered, "Is Miss Greeny okay? Does Miss Greeny want to leave?"

"I'm fine," Daphne whispered through a tired sigh, "I'm fine." Dobby looked at her with concern as she wiped the tears that had formed in her eyes, "Come on, let's keep going." Dobby nodded though it was clear to her that Dobby knew she was most certainly not alright. Still, the elf continued to follow her as she commanded, the blonde Slytherin now face to face with the door that led to the Greengrass Library, the door that possibly led to the answer she sought.

The door that led to the basement library creaked open at Daphne's touch, the scent of fresh parchment filling her lungs as she lit her wand descending deeper into the depths of the library. As she walked, the room lit up allowing her to silence her charm, her eyes filling with the familiarity of what was once her favorite place in the world. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled the basement, reminiscent of a sea of books. She felt a pain pull in her heart as she passed her father's study, but there was no more time to waste.

She'd spent what she considered her entire childhood down in the library, and she knew exactly where the book she was looking for was. She zig-zagged through the corridors of the basement, her eyes scanning furiously to ensure that she wasn't followed. It seemed she was clear as her breath halted in her lungs, now staring down the glass case that held the emerald green book, The Greengrass Grimoire. Unlike most Pureblood Families, the Daphne knew the Greengrass Grimoire didn't contain a variety of spells, it wasn't exactly what their family was known for.

Rather, it contained their history, their sacred potion formulas, and most importantly, Daphne hoped, it contained their dark secrets. She swallowed, approaching the case with caution, almost as if it was alive as she lifted her hand, placing her palm upon the glass. The glass glowed gold as the enchanted case analyzed her handprint. She had remembered the day her mother and father had brought her down here for her key in, she remembered how badly the burning had hurt. She remembered treating Astoria's hand as she cried when she was initiated, and yet, now, the heat she felt on her palm felt warm and welcoming. Blood sample, She heard the words in her voice as clear as if somebody had whispered it into her ear, though nobody was around. She sighed, removing her hand from the glass before pressing the tip of her wand to her finger, Scalpel, she muttered silently, her wand glowing before a thin stream of blood rolled down her fingertip.

Once more she placed her hand to the glass, hearing the glass's voice whisper in her mind, Welcome, Daphne Greengrass, Daughter of Jonathan and Roxanne Greengrass, Sister of Astoria Greengrass, Heiress to the Greengrass Household. The last words mortified her almost as much as the notion of the now death eater being her father. I'm no heiress, she muttered defiantly, And I'm no daughter of his. She grit her teeth, lifting the box as she took the book from its stand. No sooner had she removed the book, however, before she heard Dobby call out, "Miss Greeny get-,"

The elf was silenced, as from the corner of her eye, she watched as Dobby was thrown across the library, her heels quickly turning to face her visitor. Her body froze as she took in the sight before her. His eyes were just like hers, or they used to be, the color looking drained not only from his dull blue eyes but his skin as well. His blonde hair looked long and shaggy, and Daphne couldn't help but notice the long sleeve that covered just his left arm. "Doing a bit of light reading are we, daughter?"

Daphne snarled, lifting her wand, "I am no daughter of yours." For a moment, it looked as if her father's eyes had sunk at Daphne's words, but what looked like sadness instantly vanished.

"You claim not to be my daughter," Her father whispered, "Yet you hold in your hand our family's grimoire, something that my blood, the blood that runs through your veins has allowed you to acquire. It seems a bit hypocritical, does it not?" Daphne growled as she watched the man who called himself her father approach, the two now face to face, "You are my first-born," Daphne felt a coldness overtake her as her father placed his hand on her cheek, "You are a prodigy in the healing arts, you are my greatest pride."

Daphne felt frozen in place as her father continued, "The path you are on is not a wise one. I beg you, my daughter, my own flesh and blood, please, cease this foolish resistance." The man's face had never left her cheek, and yet somehow Daphne had felt as if she was being choked, "I was there, Daphne, I was there when the Boy-Who-Lived fought the Dark Lord. He isn't the god the wizarding world believes him to be. Harry Potter was nothing but a helpless child in the presence of the Dark Lord. He screamed, and cried, there was no strength, there was no ability to resist. If you continue down this path of making the Dark Lord your enemy, you will share the same fate as that foolish boy… death."

"You're the reason that he's back," Daphne growled, "Harry told me, he told me that you were the one who showed him the ritual! You were the one who brought him back!" Daphne's fist balled as she glared up at her father, "But just because you're complacent in this slaughtering of innocents, doesn't mean I'll be. You can deliver this message to Voldemort himself!" She roared her chest rising, "I love Harry, more than I fear him!"

"So cower before him like the quitter you are father!" Daphne bellowed, "Because with this," She said, her eyes floating to the grimoire, "I'm going to save Astoria, and I'm going to stand by Harry when he defeats that pitiful excuse for a man you've chosen to bow to. You're welcome to try to take me in by force, but I promise you," She growled, lifting her off-hand, her palm now sparking with electricity, "It won't be as easy as you think."

"There is only one way for me to have what I seek, what we seek," Her father whispered, "And if I must show you that by force, I will." For a moment, it looked almost as if a tear had formed in her father's eyes, but her focus was quickly shifted from that as he brandished his wand. "Petrificus-,"

Daphne hadn't even allowed her father to finish the spell, ducking quickly as she swept at his legs sending him toppling over. She panted, her knee pressing against her father's wrist as she stood above him, the pulsing lightning in her hand. "I'm not the same helpless child you remember me as," She muttered, her voice shaky, "My name is Daphne Greengrass, and I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix. We will take down Voldemort, and Harry will bring peace to this stupid wizarding world of ours. And if you try to stand in our way again, so help me Merlin, I will kill you."

Her father's eyes widened at her words, but Daphne couldn't manage to look as she slammed her sparking palm into her father's chest. She felt her father convulse under her body, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably as she felt her father slip away into the slumber of unconsciousness before she rose once more. "Dobby," She whispered as the elf walked up to her side, "Let's get out of here."

Dobby didn't say a word before snapping his fingers, the two leaving the Greengrass Manor, Daphne's back slamming into the cushions of her bed. "Daphne!" Tracey called out in shock racing towards her bedside, "Daphne?" She repeated softer, Daphne tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably, "Merlin, Daphne," Tracey whispered, "What happened?"

Daphne could speak, her heart heavy as she reached out her arm. She'd wanted to summon Harry, she wanted her boyfriend to hold her and tell her things were going to be okay, but she could, the mission came before everything, even her. Though as Tracey took her into her arms, rubbing soothing circles around her back, she was glad to know she had a good replacement. "I got the book," Daphne muttered out as Tracey squeezed her tightly, "Let's get to reading?"

She felt Tracey's grip around her tighten before pulling away with a soft smile, "How about some cinnamon tea first?"

"Okay," Daphne said with a tired nod, "Cinnamon tea sounds good."

(Michael P.O.V)

The hustle and bustle of Paris was nothing like the backwater town his humble house rested in. Grimmauld Place was large in its own right, but the French Minister's Manor was literally a palace that overlooked the streets of the large city, a direct view of the Eiffel Tower present from the Minister's Balcony.

For a moment, Michael wondered how they'd kept the palace secret, though the instant he'd remembered the Fidelius Charm had existed in this crazy world of theirs, things had begun to grow more clear. Michael had initially been worried about arriving at the Belmont's residence, but Minister Belmont had been very welcoming to him upon his arrival, even allowing Michael into his study to send a floor message to his mother about his absence.

Granted, his mother hadn't been happy with him walking out, but at the very least she understood his frustrations and told him to be well behaved while at the Minister's residence and to do nothing to disgrace his family name. He pushed those memories aside as he looked out the window of the guest house that had been provided to him by the Belmont's. A crystal pool rested just out of view, with statuesque fountains of marble jetted around the deck. Sun Chairs lined the edge of the pool, and Michael swallowed hard at the image which had popped into his mind of his girlfriend tanning out in the warm sun, a red blush growing over the bridge of his nose.

He shook his head, clearing his mind. This wasn't a vacation for him in the slightest, he was here for business, business that Tomas said he could help with. Michael rolled out of the comfortable bed, groaning as he stretched, his body soon falling under the warm embrace of the rain shower that resided in the center of the spacious bathroom. He didn't want to waste much time though, thinking that showing up late to the family's breakfast, a breakfast which he had been invited to, wouldn't be the best impression to make of his girlfriend's family.

As Michael toweled off, he couldn't help but focus upon the clothes which had been delivered to him upon arrival. Claire had claimed them to be nothing special, but as he lifted his plain white tee, his fingers instantly identified the fabric as silk, and that was to serve as only an undershirt. Michael felt his hands grow clammy as he touched the clean-cut button-down shirt. Michael assumed that the nicest clothes he owned for non-formal occasions was his Hogwarts Uniform, to be given a shirt this nice without second thought had left the slightest ounce of guilt in his chest.

Regardless, Michael dressed, his eyes never leaving the clock that hung in the center of his guest room. He'd never been one for punctuality, and watching the clock was feeling like a first time experience for the boy. Though Michael seemed to be making good time as he raced towards the main household, his shoes making him feel like he was flying. He slowed, however, as he approached the palace door, not wanting to look like a maniac, and also frankly because he wasn't quite sure where he was going.

That fear instantly became nullified though as one of the double doors opened revealing the pink curls that constantly flashed through his mind. Claire looked beautiful, though in truth to Michael she always did. The girl wore a simple black dress but made even the modest-looking dress seem luxurious, a silver choker with a single diamond strapped around her neck. "I'm surprised to see you're already awake," She called out with a smile, "I was actually about to sneak over and wake you up."

"I can be punctual," Michael said with a chuckle bringing a grin to Claire's face, the girl approaching him. Michael felt his heart beat in his chest as he took in Claire's tropical scent that made him feel like he was on some Hawaiian Island. His body tingled at her touch as he watched on in a daze as Claire straightened out his shirt's collar.

"You know," She said with a smile, "Most girls think that when a guy dresses up nice, they look ten times better." Michael watched as the girl cocked her head, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think your 'comfy' style makes you look a lot hotter." Michael felt as if his face was on fire as Claire pressed her lips to his cheeks, "I'm only playing," She said with a chuckle, "Now come on, let's get some breakfast, Slacker Clown."

"Yeah, yeah, Pretty Bird," He whispered following the girl into her home, "Always so demanding." Claire snickered as she led Michael through the house. The first thing he noticed was that the castle was nearly filled to the brim with marble, whether it be in the floor tile or the statues within the home. All Michael could really understand was that if he grew up living in a house like this, the cost of damages alone would have bankrupted his parents.

Thankfully, Michael had managed to arrive at the Belmont's dining table without incident, though he hoped that his face had remained the same lobster red it had been upon hearing Claire's compliment as he took the chair. "Ah Michael, a pleasure to have you joining us for breakfast today. Tell me, what plans have you for this afternoon?"

"Well," Michael spoke softly, "I invented this new focusing crystal mechanism, and Tomas told me he was going to show me a place where I can test the extent of my invention's power."

"I'm sorry, did I hear you right," Claire's stepmother asked, "You said you invented a focusing crystal mechanism?"

"Yeah- I mean, yes ma'am," He said, correcting himself.

"Michael's a genius mama," Claire said softly, "Not only did he figure out a way of implementing a focusing crystal better than this generation of wandsmiths, but he also managed to utilize the ability through wandless magic."

"Truly," Her father called out, "A boy at your age capable of controlling wandless magic, it's simply remarkable. I almost got help back from Beauxbatons my final year for not being able to do just that." Michael smiled awkwardly, receiving praise felt like a concept foreign enough to him, but receiving praise from parental figures, that of his girlfriend's no less had left him feeling quite awkward. Nervously Michael scratched the bag of his head, batting away the compliment before Claire's father continued. "With so much talent at your age, I can only imagine the lengths that you could go to in the wizarding world once you graduate."

Michael remained silent before Claire spoke up, "Actually Daddy," Claire began, "Michael wants to work as a mechanic. He was telling me when I visited him that he and his father work on repairing all sorts of things. Michael's even got experience tinkering with boats."

"Ah excellent," The French Minister said with a smile, "That seems to make sense, especially if what you claim is true regarding your development of a crystal focusing tool. I'd dare say you could invent a handful of things the world's never seen before with that head on your shoulders." Michael smiled, outside of Harry and Neville, nobody had ever truly supported his dreams. Though a current mark of sadness filled his heart watching as Claire's parent's accepted him faster than his own father. "Actually, Michael, I'm a bit interested in Non-Magiques myself. I recently purchased one of those, oh what's the name of it love?"

"A Bentley," Claire's mom called out gently.

"Ah yes, that's it," Michael watched as the man smiled, "Took it to see four of my wizarding buddies a few days ago, none of them could fix the problem. Perhaps you could take a look at it before you and my daughter leave for the school year."

"Uh," Michael muttered a bit shocked at the offer, he'd never been given the opportunity to work on such a beautiful car, "Sure, I mean, I'd love to take a look at it."

"Excellent," The Minister said before looking at the grandfather clock that stood just beyond the dining table, "Merlin! Look at the time, I must be off or the ministry board will have my head. Crazy times we are living in, absolutely crazy times." Michael watched the minister approach his wife, kissing her gently before walking over to Claire and placing a soft peck on her forehead, turning his attention back once more to him, "Was a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Corner."

"Bye Papa," Claire called out to her father before the man raced towards the Floo, leaving the three of them alone at the table.

"Claire, my dear, could you go check on the laundry for me, I feel as if the clothes are done drying but I don't remember if I took them down or not." Claire nodded smiling at Michael before he turned to face his girlfriend's stepmother. "Michael Corner, I've been told you are aware of my history with Claire, and as that is the case, I'm certain you can understand why it is I worry about her. She tells me that you've seen her Veela side and remained unphased, this makes me happy as it leads me to understand that you care about Claire for who she is."

Michael nodded, "On the other hand, I also fear for the power you may unknowingly be aware that you hold in your hands. Veela's or Half-Veela's like Claire place great faith in those immune to their charms, that great faith leaves them easily open to manipulations from those that remain unaffected by their charm. Now, I do not believe you have any intention of doing such a thing to Claire, but should I find out you were responsible in any way for hurting her or abusing her trust… I will have your body buried somewhere nobody will ever find it."

"It's funny," Michael replied, "Fleur told me somewhat of the same thing." Michael stopped for a moment before looking back up at the gorgeous woman, "I've been through a lot, especially in these last two years, but what's gotten me through it all is the friends I have at my back. Claire, she's more than just a friend, but the truth remains. I'd die before I knowingly hurt any of them."

There was silence before a gentle tug pulled at the woman's lips, "You truly mean that, I can see it in your eyes." Michael nodded as Claire's stepmom rose from her chair, "You seem to be a good man Michael Corner. For her sake, I hope the legend is true, it's a rare thing to find souls like you in this dreary world."

"What legend?" Michael called out in confusion.

"You'll learn in time," The woman said gently, "For now though, I believe I see Tomas approaching. Best get prepared, Tomas despises tardiness."