3 November 2001
"Bring in the defendant," Joseph Greengrass ordered. He smiled cruelly as Harry Potter rose out of the floor into the Wizengamot chamber.
Harry glared at the newly minted Chief Warlock as Joseph sneered down at him. "Mister Weasley, read out the charges."
Percy nodded and gleefully stepped forward holding the charge sheet. "Lord Harry James Potter-Black is charged with attempting to commit Necromancy to revive James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans-Potter."
"How does the defendant plead?"
"Does it matter? You've already decided the outcome…" Harry said bitterly.
"For the record, Lord Potter," Greengrass demanded.
"Not guilty," Harry said leaning back in his chair.
"Prosecutor Umbridge, you may begin."
Up above the chamber in the public viewing area, Daphne Greengrass watched Umbridge almost giddily began laying out her case. Daphne hid her disgust behind her practiced pureblood mask as she walked out. She paused as she heard someone running out after her. Rita Skeeter ran around to face Daphne with her quick quote quill at the ready.
"Miss Greengrass, do you have any reaction to the Boy-Who-Lived being arrested on charges of necromancy?"
Daphne frowned. "I'm sure the Wizengamot have good reasons for doing what they're doing. I will leave matters of law to my father and the Lords of the chamber."
"Oh yes, you must be very busy preparing for the wedding of the year. The unification of Houses Greengrass and Nott. Can you tell us who will be designing your dress?"
A thin smile crossed Daphne's lips as she considered the older woman in front of her. It was true, her father had assigned her Nott. She was to marry the empty-headed bastard in a few weeks and was expected to produce an heir shortly thereafter. Likewise, Astoria had been handed over to Blaise Zabini despite already having a betrothal contract with the Malfoy's. After Lucius's unfortunateencounter with a Dementor, Joseph had torn up the contract. And no amount of complaining to the Wizengamot got Narcissa or Draco anywhere. If it were possible, Joseph Greengrass cared even less about the happiness of his youngest daughter than he did his oldest.
Their futures were decided as soon as Joseph found out he was having girls. They were to pop out male heirs as soon as they were of age. Male heirs he could control and mould into puppets he could send out to do his bidding once he retired. That didn't matter for now. Daphne was dealing with Rita Skeeter who was eager for a story. A side note to the circus going on inside the chamber.
"I could, but I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. I think my dress maker would be particularly upset if I spoke out of school before the wedding."
"Oh, you are a tease. Just make sure not to lose my invite in the mail," Rita said cheerily as she walked to the door of the chamber.
Rolling her eyes Daphne began walking away when Rita spoke again. "Oh, one more question, dear."
Daphne bristled at someone calling her dear but plastered a smile on her face and spun around to address the reporter. "Yes?"
"Just a silly little rumour I heard. Some of your ex-dorm mates told me that you once held a flame for the Boy-Who-Lived. Given what's going on inside the chamber, I have to wonder why you're here today."
Daphne was too well practiced at hiding her emotions to ever fall for such a poor attempt to elicit drama. Skeeter knew it too, but she chose to needle Daphne as payback for giving her nothing to write about. "You're right, it is a silly rumour. Potter hated Slytherin, and we hated him. All I ever felt back then was contempt. For him and his stupid posse, and now I feel pity. It's tragic that he had to grow up without parents, but if this is what it drove him too… I suppose we put our faith in the wrong person."
Skeeter bared her teeth, finally having teased out a quote from the daughter of the Chief Warlock. "Thank you, Miss Greengrass."
Hours later Daphne knocked on the door to her father's office and after waiting a few moments she was called to enter. Joseph's blonde secretary, a Gryffindor girl from Daphne's year, exited as she entered. Her clothes were ruffled, and her make-up was running. Daphne could have taken a guess at what they were doing behind closed doors, but she didn't want to let that thought enter her head.
Joseph grinned as he sat behind the Chief Warlock's desk. Daphne imagined that every time he defiled it, he was thumbing his nose and other things at Dumbledore specifically. Many of the advancements Dumbledore had made during his time as Chief Warlock were slowly and, in some cases, not so slowly being eroded away by the new administration. "Good evening father."
"Hello Daphne, I see you've been giving quotes to the press," Joseph said nonchalantly.
Daphne shrugged, walking over to examine one of Joseph's many trinkets. "I didn't think you'd be upset with what I said to Skeeter."
"Not at all, I heartily approve. Though I'm certain your quote will raise some eyebrows. Many view you as a moderate voice, someone who may temper my anti-muggles born stances."
Daphne huffed and shook her head. "I am my father's daughter. I will support you in all your causes, as is my duty."
Joseph nodded approvingly. "Splendid."
"Father, what will happen if Potter is found guilty?" Daphne asked. She already suspected the answer, but she wanted to be sure.
"The punishment for necromancy is the veil," Joseph confirmed.
"And you're sure he's guilty?" Daphne asked, pushing her luck.
"We wouldn't have brought charges otherwise. Why? Do you have evidence to the contrary?" Joseph asked, eyeing his daughter suspiciously.
"No. I am sure a thorough investigation was carried out before Potter was brought to trial. That's why we have the Aurors," Daphne replied.
"Yes, of course," Joseph said, nodding to himself. "Please give my regards to your mother and tell her I'll be working late tonight."
"Yes, father," Daphne replied walking out. As she did, she considered the blonde girl, Lavender something. She looked miserable but resigned to her fate. Daphne remembered her being part of Potter's group at school and chasing after the Indian girl who'd moved to America at the end of the war. Being a pureblood, no matter what the country your parents hailed from lent you more freedom than an unwed half-blood. Lavender was stuck in England, unable to escape the reach of the Ministry.
Daphne sat in her room much later in the evening after her mother and sister had retired to bed. She was holding a picture frame in her hands. Something she kept in a hidden compartment in her make-up table. It was a picture of her and Harry Potter. It wasn't real, as much as she wished it had been. She'd taken a picture of Granger and Potter in Hogsmeade and swapped out Granger. Harry looked happy, if slightly bemused by Daphne's presence but continued hugging her regardless.
There had been many nights where Daphne had dreamed of being held in Harry's arms just like that. A world where she could forget house affiliation and the circumstances of one's birth. Where she could ask out the boy she liked, without worrying about her entire house turning against her.
Noticing tear drops on the glass, Daphne reached up and touched her face. Without realising it she'd begun crying. Daphne wiped away her tears and returned the picture to its compartment and retired to bed.
7 November 2001
"The defendant will rise," Joseph Greengrass ordered.
A rattling of chains was the only sound in the chamber as Harry rose to his feet. He stared defiantly at the group assembled in front of him about to pass judgement on crimes they claimed he committed.
"Lord Harry James Potter-Black, this chamber has found you guilty of attempting to commit necromancy. Do you have anything to say before we pass the sentence?"
"Tyranny never lasts. People only stay scared for so long before they push back against their oppressors. A gilded cage is still a prison, no matter how nice you make it look."
"For the crime of necromancy, there is only one sentence, the veil. Make peace with whatever deities you believe in and have hope they are more merciful to you in the next life."
At the Greengrass estate Daphne sat by the wizarding wireless. She cradled a glass of fire whiskey in her hand as the announcer breathlessly described the scene in the Wizengamot chamber. Daphne wanted to throw the glass, but she didn't want to waste her valuable alcohol. Especially when this was her last bottle.
Daphne flinched when she felt her mother's hand on her back. Isabella took the glass and refilled it with whiskey. She sat down opposite and down the alcohol in a single pull. "I knew Lily Evans when we were at school. She was a kind and smart woman. She'd be disgusted at what they've done to her son."
"This is wrong, everything is wrong…" Daphne moaned miserably as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You love Harry, don't you?"
As Daphne nodded Isabella gathered her oldest daughter in her arms and let her cry in her shirt. After a while the tears subsided, and Isabella gave her daughter a kiss on the head. "This should never have happened… if only there was a way to go back and fix things before they became so broken."
Daphne recognised the look in her mother's eyes. She only got that look when she was plotting something. Seeing the look of recognition in Daphne's eyes, Isabella smiled and patted Daphne on the shoulder. "I love you, Daphne."
"I love you too, mum."
Harry stood, hours later, shackled, wrists and ankles in front of the veil. He glanced back at the eager faces of his executioners. He gave them a jaunty salute before turning around again to face death. Not for the first time, of course. But it was definitely the last.
Harry was glad in a way, that Hermione wasn't here. He didn't want to see this, he didn't want to see the pain in her eyes. But maybe there wouldn't be any pain, they'd drifted apart over the years, as the colour drained out of her. He was bitterly disappointed in himself, he should have said or done something when it was obvious that being married to Ron made her miserable. Except he didn't, maybe that was the worst crime of all…
Harry Potter stepped through the veil and disappeared, leaving behind a jubilant crowd of onlookers who believed that the biggest threat to their power was finally gone.
It wasn't unusual to see the Chief Warlock's daughter in the depths of the Department of Mysteries. Daphne had several ongoing projects to occupy her, and the Unspeakables were grateful to have someone they could give the tasks they didn't have time to complete. Joseph had initially been against his daughter working at all, preferring that his little girl prepare for being a pureblood wife. However, he stopped resisting when he realised that having her in the DoM would keep her out of his hair and somewhere he could monitor her.
Daphne found that her father's 'monitoring' was merely a token effort. The woman charged with following her would give up and return to her duties within twenty minutes of Daphne sitting down at her desk. This was especially fortunate today as it allowed Daphne to slip away and down into the archives. The vast library at the very bottom of the ministry that very few outside DoM knew about. Deep within the stacks were notebooks from the hundreds of Unspeakables who'd worked at the ministry over the centuries. The secrets to many lost and abandoned experiments lay in their pages.
One of those Unspeakables happened to be her mother, who'd worked for the department from her seventh year at Hogwarts until getting pregnant. If Isabella was trying to give her daughter some clue about how to save Harry and maybe even the wizarding world, this was her only lead. Thankfully the notebooks were organised by year and surname, so it was a trifle for Daphne to find all the notebooks belonging to Isabella Rowle.
Squatting down in the stacks Daphne opened the first notebook and hurriedly began reading by the light of a lumos spell. Two hours later she was tired, annoyed and her back was aching from being hunched over for so long. Nothing yet had lent itself to a solution. Isabella's notes were intricate and fascinating, and any other day Daphne would happily pour over them for hours. But Daphne was here with a specific purpose, save Harry Potter.
If Daphne was being honest, she really didn't care if the wizarding world burned, as long as Harry was alive and happy. She didn't know what a second chance would look like, if it was even possible. But for a chance at changing the past and saving the boy she loved, Daphne would take…
Daphne's trail of thought was derailed when she turned a page of her mother's notebook. She'd finally found what she was looking for and quickly deduced the reason it was left to collect dust on a shelf in the DoM archives. Daphne carefully examined the pages with the information she needed, taking in every millimetre of the page before returning the notebooks to the shelves and leaving the building.
Using the family pensive and her mother's help Daphne made a copy of her mother's notebook and immediately left again after finding a specific address.
"Greengrass, what do you want?" Hermione Granger asked shortly when she answered the door.
"Hello to you too, Granger," Daphne replied curtly. The woman who greeted Daphne wasn't the one she remembered from Hogwarts. The whip smart bundle of energy and answers was gone, replaced with a haggard shell whose model good looks were quickly fading under the weight of being married to Ron Weasley.
"I'm not in the mood today, Greengrass. If you've come to gloat about Harry, don't. Just, don't…" Hermione muttered bitterly as her eyes shined with unshed tears.
"I would never do that. Do you think I'm that callous? Was that the impression I left from our time at school together?" Daphne asked.
Hermione meekly shook her head letting out a resigned breath. "No, I'm sorry… I just… it's been a rough few days."
"I know," Daphne said soothingly.
"Did you want to come in and have tea? I just brewed a pot?" Hermione asked.
"Where's your husband?"
"I don't know… or care," Hermione stated.
"I see. Then yes, I would."
The two women entered the tiny house near Ottery St. Catchpole and sat down at the dining room table. Daphne glanced around what was a house barely big enough for two let alone a family. It consisted of a single bedroom with an attached bathroom, a kitchen/dining room and a living area.
Hermione huffed a laugh when she noticed Daphne taking in the room. "I imagine it's much smaller than what you're used to."
"No, it's… quaint," Daphne said.
Hermione let out a hollow laugh. "That's a very diplomatic way of describing a hovel. Ronald wants a big family just like his parents have. He has dreams of one day cashing in big and given Ginny just inherited all of Harry's money…"
Daphne frowned, tapping her finger on the table. "Yes, about that. I was hoping you could help me," Daphne said, taking out a sheaf of parchment and placing it on the table between them. "I hate to admit it, but you were always stronger when it came to arithmancy. I need you to confirm these calculations are correct."
Hermione placed her cup on the saucer and pulled the parchment towards her. She pulled out a pair of glasses that were eerily similar to Harry's and began examining the equations. "This is high level arithmancy, even for me. Who wrote this?"
"My mother. She was once an Unspeakable before she met my father. She quit when she fell pregnant."
Hermione nodded as she wandlessly summoned a notepad, quill and inkwell and set it on the table. Daphne was about to lean back in her chair when she noticed that Hermione had suddenly become flush. Her breathing had become slightly laboured, and beads of sweat began forming on her forehead. "Granger, is something wrong?"
"Hm? Oh, uh, it's nothing," Hermione replied dismissively.
"Are you sure?" Daphne asked worriedly.
"Yes, I'm fine," The older girl assured her. "This is complicated, it's going to take a few days to check the calculations. Is this urgent?"
"There is a deadline, but it's not time sensitive," Daphne replied.
"What is this in aid of?" Hermione asked.
Daphne licked her lips and let out a breath. "Ask me again when you're done," Daphne paused, finishing her drink. "Thank you for the tea."
The vibrating of her wand caused Hermione to hurriedly gather up the parchment on the table and shove it into the bag between her legs. Ron staggered into the kitchen and draped himself over Hermione. "Whatcha doin?" He slurred.
Hermione scowled. "Writing a shopping list. We're out of food."
"That sounds so boring, come on, let's fuck," Ron said, tugging at Hermione's clothes.
"You're drunk," Hermione said, shoving Ron away.
"I was… toasting Harry, poor Harry. The dumbass who got himself killed because he wouldn't shut the fuck up…"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Harry was trying to make our world better. The problem is no one wanted to listen…"
"I told him to shut the fuck up. But no one listens to Ron, stupid Ron, so stupid…" Ron complained lying on the ground.
"If you're stupid what does that make me for marrying you…?" Hermione muttered to herself as she knocked him out with a stunning spell.
Hermione turned back to the work Daphne had given her and frowned. As far as she could tell so far, all the equations were correct, and she was starting to understand what the equation was designed to do. What hadn't become clear was how the ritual was powered.
"What are you planning to do with a ritual that involves human sacrifice?!" Hermione demanded a week later as she and Daphne stood in the lounge room of the former's house.
Daphne crossed her arms over her impressive bust and gave Hermione a hard stare. "I'm trying to save Harry, I thought you'd be on board with that."
"What are you…" Hermione began but her eyes widened when realisation dawned. "Daphne, this is a wildly dangerous ritual. It's completely untested and it could destroy you! And it requires a human sacrifice. Are you going for force someone to commit suicide for you?"
"No, I'm going to do it myself."
Hermione looked at Daphne as if she was insane. "Daphne, you're not making sense."
Daphne walked over to the faded old couch and sat down. "You're right, I can't ask anyone else to sacrifice themselves for me. But I can sacrifice myself to give someone else a chance," Daphne explained, giving Hermione a significant look.
"Daphne, why are you doing this? It can't be just because you had a crush on Harry. Lots of girls at school did, none of them are planning to risk their lives to go back and save him. So, why?"
Daphne was silent for a few beats. "Do you remember during the war; you and Harry freed a bunch of girls who were being held by Death Eaters?"
Hermione frowned pondering the question. "We did that a bunch of times. Muggleborn women and girls were being kidnapped and taken to brothels run by Death Eaters… you weren't?"
Daphne shook her head. "No, thankfully. But Astoria was…" Daphne explained a mixture of disgust and anger crossing her face. "My family was still in the neutral faction at the time. But my father was being pressured into cooperating. He was given an ultimatum, hand over one of your daughters or you'll be murdered in your bed and your family will be put to work."
"He told you this?"
"At the time, no. I found this out after Stori explained where she'd been for months after the war was over. The parts regarding my father I got from my mother when she finally talked me down from murdering him." Daphne admitted with a wry smile. "Joseph Greengrass is a man of high ambition, he couldn't hand over his oldest daughter. I was already promised to Theodore Nott, I needed to have two babies first, an heir for the Nott and Greengrass lines before he could ever consider that."
Daphne was now shaking with anger as she paced up and down the living room. "No, my baby sister who would suffer that indignity. At least that was the plan. What my father hadn't counted on was you and Harry," Daphne explained, smiling brightly at the brunette.
"The day Astoria arrived at the brothel you and Harry busted in and broke everyone out. My sister immediately ran home, and father had her hidden away until the war was over. If anyone asked, Stori ran away when the brothel was raided. And now even if they think he's lying they can't call him out because that would mean admitting that a pureblood was put to work in a place that was only supposed to house mudbloods…. Sorry."
"It's fine," Hermione replied.
"I owe Harry this. He saved my sister, you both did. Now I can repay that favour, even if it costs me my life."
"But you're the one who owes Harry, you're the one in love with him… it's your plan!" Hermione exclaimed.
Daphne scowled. "Don't lie to me Granger. You were in love with Potter long before you kissed Weasley. He was always your second choice. A pale imitation… literally. You've never been in love with Weasley, not the way you loved Harry."
Hermione looked away from Daphne, wrapping her arms around herself. "You're wrong."
"Really? Look me in the eyes and say that again," Daphne asked.
"Don't, don't make me do this, please…" Hermione pleaded.
"Why can't you admit it?!" Daphne demanded.
"Because he didn't love me back!! I was only ever the bossy best friend. He told Ron he saw me as his sister. It doesn't matter if I love him, I can't go back and do that again. I'll be left where I started, on the outside looking in."
Daphne shook her head. "You're a fool."
"Excuse me?!" Hermione exclaimed angrily.
"Do you really think he didn't reciprocate those feelings?"
"He said…!"
"You told me he said that to Weasley. Did he ever say it to you?"
"Well, no…"
"You knew Harry better than just about anyone. What would he do if he thought you were in love with someone else?"
"He'd… he'd put my feelings ahead of his own," Hermione confirmed.
"Did you ever tell him you loved him?"
"No…"
"Granger, I need your help. I can't do this alone. You're the only person I can trust with this. You're the only one who knows everything that happened. You need to go back and protect Harry. And tell him you love him this time."
"What about you? Don't you deserve to get a happy ending too?" Hermione asked.
Daphne shook her head wiping away tears. "This is my burden. You and Harry get the happy ending and Harry gets to have a happy ending. That's what matters."
"There has to be another way. Give me some time, I can find another way," Hermione pleaded.
"I'm out of time Granger. I'm scheduled to wed Theodore Nott in less than three weeks. Once I'm married, he'll never let me stray too far. I'll be a prisoner. Death is preferential to that."
Hermione nodded sadly. "I'm sorry."
Daphne gave the older woman a bitter smile. "So am I."
A week later Hermione walked out into the living room of the house she shared with Ron, for the final time. He was asleep on the couch, with an open bottle of fire whiskey cradled in the crook of his arm.
Hermione scowled as she stared at her husband. After her conversation with Daphne a week ago, Hermione had been re-evaluating all of her interactions with Harry over the past three years. She'd come to suspect something, but she needed it confirmed. Forcing Ron's mouth open she dosed him with veritaserum, casting the body bind spell and enervated him.
"Hello, Ron. I have a couple of questions. Did you know how Harry and I felt about each other?"
"Yes."
"Did you try and keep us apart?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I loved you, I couldn't let him take you away from me."
Hermione frowned. "Did you ever consider my feelings?"
"No."
Hermione's frown turned into a scowl as she gripped her wand tighter in her hand. She wanted to curse him up and down the house. Though, given that would be at best four curses she decided against it. Releasing the body bind Hermione got off the couch. "I'm leaving Ron. I can't be with you anymore. Goodbye."
Hermione obliviated Ron of their conversation and knocked him out again. She mopped her face of sweat with a rag as she walked out and apparated away.
When Hermione landed in Diagon Alley, she stumbled and braced herself against the nearby wall. She felt exhausted already, and she had a long day ahead. Walking to the corner of Diagon and Knockturn, Hermione climbed the stairs of a nearby apartment building and stopped at the penthouse.
"Who is it?" Daphne asked when Hermione knocked.
"It's Hermione," She replied.
Daphne hurriedly opened the door and ushered Hermione inside. "Are you ready?"
"Almost, I want to make a slight tweak in our plan," Hermione explained.
"Oh?"
"Daphne, I have magicis parasitus, that's why I looked tired after I used magic the other day. If we try to send me back, it's probable that I won't make it. When Andromeda Tonks tested me last month, I had twenty percent of the magic I had when it was discovered."
"Will you have enough magic to energize the circle?" Daphne asked. She hated being so callous, but they had a week until the wedding. If they needed to find someone else, they needed to do it quickly. There were only two women who might possibly be willing to go back and do this again would be Ginny and Fleur Weasley. They both loved Harry, at least Daphne thought Ginny loved Harry, she may have only loved his money.
"Yes, I tested myself and re-did the calculations. I'll have enough magic to energise the ritual circle. But only just."
Daphne nodded. "Ok, then we should get started."
The two women moved the furniture in the living room out of the way and removed the rug which left the wood floor exposed. "What is this place anyway? Who does it belong to?" Hermione asked.
"My father. He uses this place for his evening meetings with his assistant."
"Oh… could he show up and interrupt us?"
"No, he's in Geneva for some ICW thing this week. By the time he gets back this will be over. Although I guess if this works it won't matter anyway."
Hermione shook her head. "That's not how this works. Even if we succeed this timeline will continue."
"As long as I never have to put on a fake smile for that bastard Nott ever again, I don't care."
"Is he really that bad?" Hermione asked as she began drawing the circle on the ground in chalk.
"He's a pig, he's already taken four other women to bed while we've been dating. He has no respect for anyone, save maybe for my father. I'm a stepping stone to more power and influence. It's the only thing pureblood men care about."
"That's horrible," Hermione muttered.
"It is what it is."
Once the circle was complete, Daphne sat in the centre and Hermione sat in a smaller circle connected to the larger circle with a line of chalk. Hermione fidgeted as she sat waiting for Daphne to compose herself. "Is there something wrong, Granger?"
"N-no, not wrong. Can I ask you a favour?"
"Sure."
"Can I kiss you?" Hermione asked, blushing.
"Wh-what?"
"I-I, I've never kissed a girl before. I wanted to do it once before I die. A-and I've always thought you were crazy hot," Hermione admitted embarrassingly.
Daphne blushed and smiled. "You're pretty attractive yourself, Granger… sure, why not."
Hermione crawled across the room and pressed her lips against Daphne's, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue into the blonde woman's mouth. The two made out for a few seconds before separating. Hermione returned to the smaller circle with a huge smile on her face. "That was way better than any kiss I've shared with Ron. I should have done that way sooner."
Daphne giggled. "I agree."
"Thank you, Daphne. Good luck."
"I'll make you proud."
Hermione took the pill of belladonna and swallowed it. They'd synthesised a concentrated amount in hopes of inducing a quick death. She smiled at Daphne for a few seconds before slumping over. Daphne wanted to help but when she saw the circle begin to glow she knew it was too late. Daphne let out the breath she was holding as she felt the magic of the ritual take hold.
Suddenly there was a rush of magic that consumed Daphne. Seconds later she slumped over dead much the same as Hermione had. The building shook for a few moments before the penthouse exploded consuming it and part of the building below in fire.
The explosion and subsequent fire destroyed the bodies of both women. Neither were ever identified, and the case was left unsolved. When it was discovered days later that Daphne was missing. Joseph directed the Aurors to use all their resources to find her. After months of searching the investigation was abandoned.
Most theorised Daphne had run away to avoid being married to a bore of a man such as Theodore Nott. Some even suspected that Daphne and Hermione disappearances were connected. That maybe the two had been lovers and abandoned their husbands to be together.
These theories would never be answered conclusively, and wizarding Britain would continue hobbling along. Decades would pass as the pureblood population declined and the number of squibs rose. The dwindling pureblood population clung to power as long as they could. Restricting the rights of muggleborn wizards and witches until there was nothing left. Less than a century later Wizarding Britain was dead. A footnote in the wider history of the magical world. A cautionary tale about stagnation and bigotry.