Daphne Greengrass woke up with a silent scream. She sat up fast and her eyes darted around the dark room until she realized she was safe in her own bed. Her pulse thudded hard enough to make her dizzy. She stayed still for a minute, listening to see if she had woken up any of the other girls, but the room was quiet. She really didn't want to deal with Pansy Parkinson asking her a bunch of annoying questions right now.
She pulled back the curtains of her bed and looked at Tracey Davis's bed. It was empty and perfectly made, which just made her feel even worse than she already did. Daphne got up and walked to the bathroom. The stone floor was freezing on her bare feet, but she didn't really care. The nightmare was still too fresh in her head.
She walked over to the sink and splashed ice-cold water on her face to try and wake up. The girl staring back in the mirror was a total mess. Her blue eyes had huge dark circles under them and her skin was way too pale. I look like a ghost, she thought. She hadn't really slept since Friday and it showed, which was just the truth.
Closing her eyes was a mistake because the images were just waiting for her there. Harry's body had been a total wreck on that screen. Watching it for seven hours in total silence was like a nightmare that would never end.
Harry still was not awake. Daphne had tried to get into the hospital wing earlier, but the doors might as well have been part of the wall. She had seen Granger and Weasley standing outside late last night, both of them lingering like they had nowhere else to go. Granger was crying openly. Weasley looked hollowed out, his shoulders slumped, his face grey in the torchlight.
Daphne had stayed back, pressed into the shadow of the corridor. She did not want to be seen. Watching Weasley like that made something twist in her chest in a way she did not like.
Professor McGonagall was there with them. Even from a distance, Daphne could tell something was wrong. The Professor's back was too stiff. Her hands kept folding and unfolding in her sleeves.
"He is stable," McGonagall said. Her voice sounded tight. "Madam Pomfrey has repaired the damage to his body. The concern now is his magical core, and his state of mind." She hesitated, just for a second. "His core is empty. He used everything he had left."
Daphne did not stay long after that.
Back in her bed, she lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the stone without really seeing them. Nothing felt the same anymore. An empty magical core did not need any explanation. Every child raised in the wizarding world knew exactly what that meant. Without a core, there was no magic. It was the end of it.
Daphne gripped the bedsheets and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. The thought she kept pushing away slipped through anyway. What now? She reached for her wand lying beside her pillow.
"Tempus."
Three in the morning.
She only had a few hours left of restless sleep before she would have to get up, put on her makeup, and go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She would have to sit there and act as though none of it mattered. What had happened to Potter. Krum being dead. All the things that were not meant to be acknowledged.
The rules in Slytherin House were very clear.
Daphne dressed slowly, like every single move she made required its own separate decision. Her skirt was laying flat on the bed, perfectly ironed. She pulled it over her hips and fixed the waistband, checking herself in the mirror to make sure the fabric sat just right. Her uniform had to look flawless. People always noticed stuff like that in their house.
She sat down at her vanity and grabbed her makeup. She knew the routine by heart. Foundation, a bit of concealer under her eyes, and mascara. Nothing too much. The makeup had to be subtle and barely there, just enough to hide that she had not slept and to not give anything else away.
Her eyes stopped on her hair. It was blonde and long, just hanging over her shoulders. She brushed through it with her fingers for a second while watching her reflection. A braid would be the safe choice. It was neat and tidy and did not draw any attention. A ponytail was faster, but it looked a bit too casual for a morning after something like this. Finally, she started braiding her hair, going slow and making sure to fix any strands that slipped out. It gave her hands and her brain something to do, which she really needed right now.
Millicent Bulstrode spoke up from behind her just as Daphne was buttoning the last button on her shirt.
"Did you finish the Charms homework?" she asked without saying hello, just digging through her bag.
"Almost," Daphne said, not looking away from the mirror. "The last exercise with the wrist movements was annoying."
Millicent snorted. "Flitwick probably thinks we have four hands. What about Astronomy?"
Daphne hesitated for a second. "I did the math. Not the observation description yet. I could not really focus last night."
Millicent nodded like that was a good enough reason. "Me neither. The stars just did not want to line up where they were supposed to."
Daphne grabbed her wand and tucked it into her robes. She looked at her reflection one more time. Her makeup was in place. Her braid was even. Nothing was slipping out of control.
The bathroom door swung open suddenly. Pansy Parkinson walked in barefoot and just in her underwear. She stopped halfway, looked at Daphne and Millicent, and then gave a loud snort.
"Dressed already?" she said. "Seriously? It is barely dawn and you are both ready."
Millicent shrugged. "Not everyone likes being late."
Pansy waved her off and started digging through her locker. "But come on, yesterday was intense. All that action. It is just a shame it was not Potter."
Daphne felt something inside her tighten up. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose and focused on what her hands were doing, fixing the braid at the back of her neck. For a second she had the feeling that if she stopped moving, she might say something she should not.
"Krum was better looking anyway," Pansy added lightly, not even looking up. "At least we would have got something out of it."
Millicent made a face.
Daphne let her breath out just as slowly as she had taken it in, and only then did she turn away from the vanity. Her voice was calm, maybe even a little too calm. "Can you just get dressed? We are going to be late for breakfast."
Pansy let out a laugh, but she reached for her shirt. "Fine, fine. I am going. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
The Great Hall was already half full. Long tables were crowded with students and plates were clinking, while the low hum of conversation pressed in from all sides. Daphne spotted her sister almost immediately. Astoria was sitting at the Slytherin table with a group of younger girls, her legs swinging slightly beneath the bench as she talked. Daphne slowed down and moved toward her.
Astoria looked up and her face lit up. "Daph."
Daphne smiled without really thinking about it, and the expression came easier than anything else that morning. She leaned down and brushed her fingers lightly against Astoria's shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
Astoria nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you." She lowered her voice and her eyes were bright. "I think we will get a letter from Mum today."
Daphne felt something warm settle in her chest. Home. The word formed in her head before she could stop it. Winter break. Leaving the castle, even just for a little while, sounded like exactly what she needed.
"I hope so," she said, and she meant it.
She moved further down the table and took a seat among the older students. Her plate filled itself and she focused on that. She had barely taken her first bite when someone slid onto the bench right beside her.
"Morning, Greengrass."
Daphne glanced sideways. Miles Bletchley had dropped onto the bench beside her, sitting a little too close, his shoulders hunched forward as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. His hair was still damp, like he had rushed through getting ready.
"Morning," she said, and went back to her plate.
He watched her for a moment, then cleared his throat. "You, uh. You coming down to the pitch later? Practice, I mean."
"I won't," Daphne said. She took another bite, unhurried.
"Oh." He nodded, then tried again. "We're done early today. Thought maybe we could… walk back or something."
Daphne set her fork down carefully. She turned just enough to look at him, her expression polite and closed.
"I already have plans," she said.
Miles frowned, not quite getting it. "With who?"
"With myself," Daphne replied, and reached for her goblet.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, his ears turning slightly red.
"Right," he said. "Yeah. Sure."
He stood up a second later and moved back toward the end of the table, avoiding eye contact.
Daphne picked up her fork again. Around her, the noise of the Hall began to thin, conversations dropping off in uneven waves.
The Hall went quiet as Dumbledore stood at the center of the staff table. He didn't have to say anything to get their attention. The sound of plates clinking stopped almost instantly, and even the Slytherins who usually liked to whisper through the headmaster's speeches stayed still. Dumbledore looked older than usual, and the torchlight made the wrinkles on his face look like deep lines carved into stone.
"We have all witnessed a great tragedy," Dumbledore began. His voice was not loud, but it carried to every corner of the room. "The First Task was designed to test the skill and courage of our champions, but it brought us a loss that no one expected. Viktor Krum is no longer with us."
Daphne looked over at the Hufflepuff table, where some of the Durmstrang students were sitting. They looked like they hadn't slept at all. Their heavy fur cloaks were pulled tight around them, and their faces were set in expressions of pure grief.
"Viktor will be honored here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. "His funeral will be held next Sunday, on the twenty-third of November, right here on the castle grounds. We will say our goodbyes with the respect he deserves as a champion."
He paused, and for a second, the only sound was the crackling of the fire.
"After the ceremony, Professor Karkaroff has informed me that the Durmstrang Institute will be returning home. Their time in the tournament has come to an end."
A low murmur started to ripple through the tables, but Dumbledore raised a hand to stop it.
"However, the Triwizard Tournament is bound by a magical contract that we must honor. The judges have met to decide the scores based on what was seen within the corrupted dimension. These points represent the progress of the remaining champions."
Daphne felt her pulse speed up. She leaned forward just a little bit, her fingers tracing the edge of her napkin.
"Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons showed great resilience while facing the obstacles of the realm. For her efforts, the judges have awarded her four points."
Four points. It was low, but Daphne knew why. Fleur had spent most of her time trapped and unable to move forward. It was a harsh score, but fair.
"Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts showed excellent spellcasting and maintained his composure in the face of grave danger. He has been awarded six points."
Cedric looked down at his lap as his housemates patted him on the back. It was a decent score, but it wasn't the lead.
"And finally, Harry Potter," Dumbledore said.
The name felt like a heavy weight dropping into the room. Daphne saw a few people at the Gryffindor table sit up straighter, but many others just looked angry. The rumors Pansy had mentioned were already working.
"Mr. Potter showed incredible bravery. He faced the monstrum that guarded the heart of that realm and he defeated it. He ensured the survival of the other champions when all seemed lost. For his actions, he is awarded nine points."
Nine points. Harry was in the lead by a massive margin.
Daphne felt a tiny spark of something like pride, but it was quickly smothered by the cold silence that followed. No one cheered. A few people whispered about Krum again. They didn't see a hero; they saw someone who had survived when a better, more famous seeker had died.
Dumbledore waited for the silence to settle before he spoke again, his tone shifting to something a bit lighter, though he still didn't smile.
"In the spirit of international cooperation, we will not let this year be defined only by shadow. To celebrate the bonds between our schools, we will be hosting a Yule Ball in the first week of December. It will be a formal event for students from the fourth year and up."
The announcement of a dance felt weirdly out of place after talking about a funeral, but Daphne understood. Dumbledore was trying to give the students something else to think about before they all went home for the winter break on the twentieth.
"For now," Dumbledore finished, "let us remember those who are still fighting to recover."
"Nine points?" Malfoy's voice drawled across the table. He dropped his silver fork and looked around. "Dumbledore has finally gone completely mad. Potter is the reason Krum is dead and we all saw it! Krum was just about to put that pathetic mudblood lover in his place once and for all when the monster 'accidentally' took out the only real champion in the room."
Pansy Parkinson laughed and leaned in closer to him. Malfoy smirked, his eyes flashing with that familiar, mean light.
"And don't even get me started on the help," Malfoy went on, waving a hand toward the staff table with a look of pure disgust. "An old man and some girl just happen to show up to save his ass? Potter had a whole welcoming committee in there and the judges still give him the lead? It is a joke! Who knows what really happened once that fog rolled in and the screen went dark. He probably spent the rest of the time hiding like a coward while his little friends did all the heavy lifting for him. My father says the Ministry is going to have a lot of questions about how a fourteen year old cheat is the one who managed to come on top!"
Daphne did not look up and she did not say a word. She kept her face perfectly still, like a mask of ice, while Malfoy and the others laughed about Harry being a cheat.
The sound of Malfoy's voice was suddenly drowned out by the rushing sound of hundreds of wings.
The morning post had arrived. A massive cloud of owls poured through the high windows, bringing the usual chaos of feathers and falling parchment. Most people were grabbing for the Daily Prophet to see how Rita Skeeter was trashing Harry, but Daphne's eyes were searching for someting else.
A sleek, grey barn owl circled the table and landed right next to her plate. Daphne felt her heart skip a beat. She recognized the bird immediately.
She smoothed the parchment out on the table and felt a wave of pure warmth hit her just seeing her mother's elegant handwriting.
My dearest Daphne,
I hope you and Astoria are staying safe. I have the most wonderful news to share. Your father has been granted dtwo full weeks of leave from the Ministry.
He has worked so hard this year and he is finally going to be home for the entire holiday. We want you both back the second the train leaves.
We are going to have a proper family Christmas this year, just like when you were little. Your father is already planning the walks in the gardens and he cannot wait to see you both.
With all our love, Mum.
Daphne felt a huge, genuine smile break across her face. She forgot about Malfoy's insults. Her father was actually going to be home. He was usually so busy with work that they only got to see him for a day or two during the break, but two full weeks felt like a miracle. The idea of him being there, sitting by the fire and not worrying about Ministry business, made her want to cry with relief.
She looked down the table and saw Astoria already waving her own letter. Her sister's eyes were bright with joy and she looked like she wanted to jump off the bench. They were going home. They were going to be a real family again.
Daphne tucked the letter carefully into her robes, right over her heart. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe. She looked at the calendar in her head and did the math.
Today was November 16. They were leaving on December 20.
That was exactly thirty-four days.
Thirty-four days until she could leave this school, the rumors, and the nightmare behind. But as she looked at the empty space beetwen Granger and Weasley, her smile faded.
Thirty-four days was a long time. For her, it was a countdown to a warm house and her father's laugh. But for Harry, thirty-four days was a lifetime of being called a murderer while he lay in a bed he might never wake up from.
Ronald slammed his fist onto the table so hard that his fork jumped and landed on the floor.
"Ron, what is it?" Hermione asked. She reached for her pumpkin juice, but stopped when she saw the look on his face.
He just shoved the Daily Prophet toward her. His thumbs had already left wet, crumpled marks on the edges of the paper. Hermione pulled the paper closer and her eyes went wide as she saw the massive headline.
HARRY POTTER: CHAMPION OR KILLER?By Rita Skeeter
While the wizarding world should be celebrating the start of the Triwizard Tournament, a dark shadow has fallen over Hogwarts. Viktor Krum, the world-renowned seeker and pride of Bulgaria, is dead. But as we mourn a true hero, a disturbing question remains.
How did Harry Potter, the boy who has always been surrounded by strange events, return from the task when a champion like Krum did not? Witnesses who watched the Aetheric Mirror on Friday night saw a series of events that can only be described as suspicious. Potter was seen receiving aid from two mysterious figures, an old man and a girl in ancient robes, who appeared out of nowhere to help him. How a fourteen-year-old boy managed to summon such powerful assistance in a locked dimension is something Albus Dumbledore has yet to explain.
Even more chilling is the report of what happened at the very end. Witnesses saw the Bulgarian hero suddenly overwhelmed by the monstrum just as he was closing in on Potter to claim his victory. It was in that exact moment, right after Krum fell, that a thick and unnatural fog rolled in, hiding the final moments from the audience. When the mist finally cleared, the monster was dead, Krum was gone, and Potter was the only one left standing.
Was Krum's death truly a tragic accident, or did Potter take advantage of the chaos to get rid of a superior rival? Potter currently lies in the hospital wing in a deep coma, conveniently unable to answer any questions from the Ministry.
It seems the Boy Who Lived has once again found a way to survive while those around him fall.
Hermione looked up at Ron, her eyes wide and darting around the Great Hall as if she expected the Ministry to burst through the doors at any second.
"She is lying," Ron said. "She didn't mention the waterfall! Not a single word about Krum blasting Harry into the river at the very start."
"I know," Hermione whispered. She bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. Her breathing was shallow, coming in short, frantic hitches. "I know, Ron, but… but look at the end. Look what she's saying happened in the fog."
"And look at this!" Ron jabbed a finger at the page, nearly tearing it. "She says Krum was "eliminated" just as he was about to finish Harry. We saw it! That monster sliced him in half while he was…" Ron lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, leaning in until he was inches from her face. "While he was trying to cast the… the Killing Curse. We all saw the green light on his wand, Hermione! Harry didn't do anything to him. We saw Fleur and Cedric fighting that thing for ages. She just… she just acts like none of that happened…"
"The fog," Neville Longbottom said quietly. He was sitting across from them, looking pale and clutching his own copy of the paper. "The fog didn't happen until the very end. After Krum was already gone and the monster changed shape. But she's writing it like almost everything happened inside the fog."
"Exactly," Hermione said, her voice rising in a pitch of pure panic. She started twisting her hair around her finger, a nervous habit that made her look even more frazzled. "She's using the fog to cast doubt on everything. She's saying that because the mirror went dark at the end, nobody can prove what Harry did. She's making the whole world believe Harry finished Krum off in the dark!"
Hermione's eyes darted back to the staff table, where Dumbledore was locked in a tense conversation with a very agitated Cornelius Fudge.
"Ron, think about this," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. "The judges were so strict. The First Task was a closed broadcast. No press. No public. They were not allowed to be here. The only mirror was the one right here in the Hall."
"So?"
"So how does she know any of this?" Hermione's voice was getting desperate. "She knows about the help Harry got earlier in the task. She knows exactly when the fog started. She even knows about the people who fished Harry out of the river! If she wasn't in the Great Hall, and she wasn't in that dimension, how did she see it? No one would have gone running to her that fast, Ron. No one!"
Ron looked around the Hall. Most of the other students were huddled over their own papers, whispering and pointing toward the Gryffindor table.
"I don't care how she found out," Ron said, standing up suddenly. "I care that the whole school is looking at us like we're friends with a murderer."
"We're going to the hospital wing," Hermione said, her movements jerky and uncoordinated as she shoved her books into her bag. A bottle of ink tipped over inside, but she didn't even notice. "Right now. We have to see him."
"We're not allowed in," Neville reminded her, standing up as well. "Madam Pomfrey said.."
"I don't care what she said!" Hermione snapped. She swung her heavy bag over her shoulder. "Whole world is being told Harry is a criminal. We are seeing him, and then we are going to the owlery. We have to write to Sirius. He's the only one… he's the only family Harry has left…"
They walked quickly toward the marble staircase, leaving the Daily Prophet behind on the table, the black headline still screaming Harry's name.
The Owlery was freezing, the wind whistling through the open stone windows and bringing a dusting of frost with it. Daphne watched as her family owl, a sleek grey barn owl, took the small roll of parchment from her hand. Astoria stood right beside her, bouncing slightly on her heels to stay warm, her breath blooming in white clouds against the dark.
"Tell them we will be there the moment the train stops," Astoria whispered to the bird.
The owl let out a soft hoot and took off into the night, its wings disappearing into the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. Daphne stayed by the window for a second longer, watching the empty sky.
"Come on, Daph, before your nose turns into an icicle," Astoria said, tugging on her sleeve.
They walked down the long, spiraling stone stairs and back into the main castle. The corridors were mostly empty now that dinner was over. It was one of those quiet nights where Hogwarts felt less like a school and more like an ancient, sleeping beast.
"Are you still struggling with the Shrinking Solution?" Daphne asked as they crossed the bridge toward the main building.
"No, not anymore," Astoria replied. "Those extra lessons you gave me in the library really worked. Even Snape could not find anything wrong with my last batch. He just stared at it for a minute and then walked away without saying a word, which is basically a trophy coming from him."
Daphne managed a small smile. "He just likes to be difficult."
Astoria kept talking, her voice a constant, happy hum. She started rambling about the Yule Ball, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you think Mother will send us new dress robes? I know I am only a second year, but Proffesor Dumbledore said we can go if an older student invites us. I really hope someone asks me, Daph. It would be so romantic…"
Daphne looked at her sister's hopeful face. Astoria was only twelve, and the idea of a ball seemed like a fairy tale to her.
"If nobody invites you, I will," Daphne said randomly. "We can go together."
Astoria beamed at her, her whole face lighting up. "I love having an older sister! You would really do that?"
"Of course," Daphne said, nudging her gently.
"But someone will definitely invite you," Astoria said confidently, swinging her arms as they walked. "After all, you are beautiful. Every boy in the fourth and fifth year is probably already trying to figure out how to ask out."
Daphne shrugged at this. The idea of going to a dance with some posturing Slytherin boy made her stomach turn. "I do not even know if I want to go with someone. I think you are the only person that I would really like to go with."
Astoria laughed and leaned her head against Daphne's elbow for a brief second. "You are just being nice but thank you."
They reached the junction where the path split toward the dungeons. The warmth of the common room was just a few corridors away, but Daphne stopped near a suit of armor. Every time they had passed a window, her eyes had drifted toward the West Tower. She could not just go to bed and pretend everything was fine.
"You go ahead to the common room, Tori," Daphne said. "I forgot I have to check a reference in the library before it closes. I need to finish that Astronomy chart."
Astoria blinked, her smile fading just a little bit. "This late? Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"I will not be long," Daphne promised, smoothing a stray hair back from Astoria's forehead. "Be careful going down. The stairs near the kitchen have been acting up again."
Astoria nodded and gave her a quick hug before heading off toward the Slytherin common room. Daphne waited until the sound of her sister's footsteps faded completely. She turned away from the path to the library and started walking toward the hospital wing, her heart starting to beat faster with every step.
She stopped short when she saw the heavy oak doors weren't fully shut. A sliver of pale light cut through the darkness of the corridor. She was about to knock when she heard Snape's voice.
"He failed to trigger the biological fail-safe, Albus. The boy is a hollow shell."
Daphne froze. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall and leaned in just enough to see through the gap.
Dumbledore was standing by Harry's bed. He was humming a soft, wandering tune that sounded horribly out of place. His long fingers were busy fiddling with a silver instrument on the bedside table that emitted a faint, rhythmic clicking noise.
"The physical damage is repaired, Severus," Dumbledore said softly. He reached out and adjusted Harry's glasses, even though the boy was out cold. "The castle magic is trying to mend him."
"The cellular mending is finished," Snape snapped, his black robes snapping as he paced the length of the bed. "But the wizarding core is in absolute stasis. It isn't just empty. It has seized. Filius and I ran a resonance scan an hour ago. The nucleation point has fused shut."
Snape stopped pacing and leaned over Harry, his face a mask of pale fury.
"He pushed too hard. When a wizard drains the vessel to zero, the conduits melt. Potter cannot draw from the air because there is no internal pressure left to create the pull. He is like a lamp with a melted wick."
Dumbledore hummed again, a sound that made Daphne's skin crawl. He peered over his half moon spectacles at the unconscious boy.
"How much time do we have, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded entirely too calm.
"A week. Maybe ten days if his magic is as stubborn as his personality," Snape replied. He sounded jagged, like he was barely holding his temper. "Only because his core was unnaturally dense to begin with. The spells he was throwing at the end… he was infusing them with raw core magic. It is the only reason he is still breathing. His body is trying to survive on the smoke of what is left."
Dumbledore actually smiled a little. It was a small, proud look that made Daphne feel sick.
"Core infusing spells in his fourth year," Dumbledore mused. "Extraordinary. I don't believe even I, or perhaps even Grindelwald, could have managed such a feat at fourteen. To reach that deep into the well at such a young age is quite a thing."
"Focus, Albus!" Snape hissed. He slammed a hand down on the edge of the bedframe. "The boy is dying! He is lying there fading away and you are standing there being impressed? Do you know anything about the core that we can use? Any of your ancient lore? We need a solution, not a history lesson on his potential!"
Dumbledore's smile faded. He looked down at Harry with a tired expression.
"A magical core is not merely a well, Severus, it is the seat of the soul. If we pry it open by force, we risk disturbing things that were meant to remain hidden. I will not have Harry's spirit torn apart just to preserve the vessel."
"Vessel?" Snape's voice was sharp, full of sudden suspicion. "What are you talking about, Albus? What vessel?"
Daphne didn't stay to hear the answer. All she could hear was the clock ticking in her head. A week. Harry had a week.
She backed away from the door, her legs feeling like they were made of lead. She turned and started to move.
The torches along the walls blurred into messy yellow smears as her eyes filled with tears. I might never speak to him again, she thought.
She ducked into a dark alcove and slumped against the stone. The cold bit into her back, but she didn't care. In the shadows of the empty corridor, the Ice Queen finally broke. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.