2 Chapter 2

Daphne Greengrass, referred to by every student (and even some teachers) of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the Ice Queen of Slytherin, sat silently as their housemates laughed at Draco Malfoy's latest pathetic joke about the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

Once again, Potter found himself in a heap of trouble after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. It all started on Halloween, when the champions were being selected for the Triwizard Tournament. Viktor Krum had been selected as the Durmstrang champion, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons, and Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts champion. Daphne snorted when she heard Diggory's name called, as she really had no faith in the Hufflepuff. Still, she clapped along with everyone else - school spirit, or something like that. But then the cup lit itself a fourth time and Harry Bloody Potter's name came out of it.

The entire hall was shocked, and Daphne was no exception. How on earth did he manage to even put his name in the cup? She saw what happened to the Weasley twins after trying to cheat the age line. After that, all hell broke loose. Potter instantly became a pariah, shunned by everyone in the school, including his best friends Weasley and Granger. Somehow, those two had even initiated a movement that saw Potter expelled from Gryffindor tower that very night.

While Daphne didn't outright hate Potter like most of her housemates, neither did she have any particular reason to support him. Even so, what the hell? His own friends betrayed him? She had always thought the Gryffindors were such a tight-knit bunch, and she couldn't believe the entire house would just abandon him like that. Even the Slytherins showed loyalty to their own house, if no one else, and it would take something far more serious than cheating their way into a tournament for one of them to be completely excommunicated, like Potter had been.

Potter practically disappeared from the school that same night, showing up for classes and nothing more. He never came to the Great Hall for meals and never spoke to anyone. There were rumours that McGonagall and the staff had tried to coerce Potter into returning to Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the fact that he had been banished by the entire house.

The same rumours said that Potter simply told them that he had found his own quarters. He also pointed out that according to the Hogwarts charter, in order to return to the house, a banished student would have to willingly comply with the reinstatement stipulations put forth by the house at the time of banishment. Since the Gryffindors never bothered to define the conditions for reinstatement, the banishment was effectively permanent. Honestly, if the staff were so concerned, they should just resort him into a different house, but so far, they had stubbornly refused to do so.

It was now November the twenty-fourth, the day of the first task. More than three weeks had passed since Potter's exile from Gryffindor, and now he would have no choice but to show up and perform in front of the entire school, their guests, and assorted spectators.

As usual, Malfoy was trying to whip everyone into an anti-Potter frenzy, and in just a couple of hours they would be outside watching the champions face their task. There were rumours that dragons would be involved, and Malfoy was practically salivating at the prospect of Potter being burned to a crisp.

Daphne finished her meal and quietly left the Great Hall, ignoring the commotion and excitement that had seemingly taken hold of the entire student body. She exited the castle and casually strolled towards the lake, where she intended to sit by the shore for a bit and relax before the task.

She arrived at the lake, and to her disappointment, she noticed that her usual spot was already occupied by a boy, who was sitting near the water and eating a sandwich. Daphne snorted and cursed her own luck, because even at a distance she could tell that the boy in question was none other than Harry Potter himself.

She almost turned to walk away, but something held her back. They had never spoken, not even to trade jabs with one another, but she had a strange feeling she should approach him. She wouldn't consider herself a selfless or empathetic person, especially not when it came to complete strangers like Potter, yet she couldn't help but feel some level of sympathy for the ex-Gryffindor. He was completely alone, abandoned by his house and rejected by his closest friends, and if the rumours about dragons were true, he could even die today. No one deserved all that.

She took the first step towards him then hesitated, taking a moment to reconsider. Her decision made, she took a deep breath and continued walking in his direction. By the time she finally reached him, Potter had finished his meal and was quietly sitting on the ground with his eyes closed. She wanted to say something to get his attention, but what could she even say to him? Fortunately, Potter decided to make it easy for her.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Greengrass," he said, without even opening his eyes. "How are you on this fine day?"

Daphne gasped, her blue eyes widening for a moment.

"How did you know?" she asked, recovering from her initial surprise.

"I felt your magic a few minutes ago," he said, as if it explained everything, when in her mind it only prompted more questions. He rose from the grass and turned towards her. Daphne looked at him and couldn't help but notice that there was something different about Potter. His hair was still messy, and he still wore baggy clothes unsuitable for someone of his station, however his demeanour had changed completely.

His expression was stoic, and he didn't even attempt to smile at her. Gone were any traces of the awkward boy she was used to seeing in class. Instead, he stood tall and seemed to carry himself with a sort of casual confidence. The most obvious difference to her were his eyes, which actually seemed to be glowing. Daphne blinked twice, just to make sure she had really seen what she thought she had, and indeed his eyes seemed to be burning with emerald flames. She held her breath for a moment before realising she had been just standing there, speechless, and he was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Greengrass, are you alright?" asked Harry, noticing she was acting a bit off.

"I am fine, Potter, it's nothing," she replied, quickly regaining her composure and slipping her Ice Queen mask back into place. "I just noticed you sitting here, and I was curious..."

Harry chuckled, and a very small smile formed on his lips.

"And how can I help you satisfy your curiosity?" he asked her in a low, soft voice, which made her feel somewhat uneasy.

Daphne gulped.

"Are you aware that there are rumours concerning dragons for the first task today?" she asked, expecting to see surprise or fear in his eyes. Instead, she saw only amusement.

"Oh, I saw them, all right," Harry replied with a smile, looking towards the edge of the forest and inviting her with a nod to look in the same direction.

"Magnificent beasts, actually. Whatever they are preparing, they have a Swedish Short-Snout, a Chinese Fireball, a Common Welsh Green, and a Hungarian Horntail. My guess is that they have a dragon for each champion to face."

The easiness in Potter's words shocked her. Was he insane?

"Are you..." she started, unable to finish the sentence.

"Insane? Afraid?" he supplied with a smirk. "Perhaps I am, and I'd be a fool not to be. I'm a fourth year who's seen himself drawn into the tournament against his will. They're forcing me to square off against dragons, not to mention the other competitors, which are three seventh year students who have the advantage in both magical power and knowledge. I'll be lucky if I survive the afternoon."

Daphne simply looked at him.

"You meant it?" she asked quietly after a moment. "When you said you hadn't put your name in the cup?"

Harry nodded calmly.

"I didn't," he replied simply. "Contrary to what people like think, I'm not a glory seeker. Besides, how could I have passed through Dumbledore's age line? Also, keep in mind that my name had no school associated, which leads me to believe that someone placed my name in the cup in a way that guaranteed I would be chosen to compete."

"And why exactly would someone go to all that trouble just to put you in the tournament, Potter?" she asked, annoyed with his self-important conspiracy theory.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I can give you a couple of reasons, but the general idea is that someone wants me humiliated, dead, or both. By making me participate in the tournament, they wouldn't even have to dirty their hands."

This time it was Daphne who raised an eyebrow.

"I see," she replied, believing him an arrogant fool. Harry narrowed his eyes, peering into hers as if he were trying to discover something.

"You don't believe me," he replied after a moment. "You think I'm lying, and that I really am just an attention seeking brat with no sense of self preservation, like any pathetic Gryffindor."

"Actually, I do believe you didn't put your name in the cup. You clearly have no extraordinary power that would allow you to get around Dumbledore's wards. He is supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive, after all, apart from You-Know-Who."

"Why can't you people call him Voldemort?" he sighed, not picking up on the fact that she didn't flinch at the name.

"Because I don't like to advertise my 'bravery' or make myself a target by calling him by his name," she replied immediately, glaring at him. "Especially in certain circles I am forced to participate in."

"I see," he replied, crossing his arms. "And do you believe I'm an attention seeking brat?"

"Why would my opinion be so important to you, Potter?" she asked testily. Harry simply shrugged and looked away.

"It isn't," he replied. "I'm just curious. In case you ever wondered, I loathe my fame. People seem to focus on the Boy-Who-Lived part and forget that I'm called that because I was the only one who did that night. I would exchange it all for a single day with my parents."

That struck a nerve with Daphne, although she didn't outwardly show it.

"I guess people never think about the true price of your fame, do they?" she asked him. Her posture relaxed a bit, though her expression remained impassive.

"There is a phrase among the muggles," Harry started. "I don't recall all of it, but it ends something like you can either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain. I believe people no longer care about the Boy-Who-Lived, simply because they no longer have a use for him," Harry explained, missing Daphne's raised eyebrows.

"Dumbledore became famous and took up seats of power in our world. People can and do look to him for guidance and wisdom. The Boy-Who-Lived is just a child," he waved his hand as if he was discarding a piece of trash, "and therefore useless to everyone."

Daphne stared thoughtfully at him but didn't comment. Her expression remained neutral, while her mind was racing as she started to re-evaluate everything she knew about Harry Potter. She was about to speak, when the sound of small pop close to Potter gave her pause.

She turned toward the sound and saw a house-elf unlike any she had ever seen. This elf was taller and seemed to carry himself with more pride. His eyes were dark and narrow, in contrast to the wide-eyed house-elves she was familiar with. He wore a very simple black uniform with two daggers at his belt. The elf's looks alone were enough to pique her curiosity, but she was really taken by surprise when the elf turned to her and bowed.

"My lady, how do you do?" the elf addressed her in perfect English. Turning back to Potter, the elf lifted his head and spoke, "My lord, McGonagall seeks you - no doubt for the first task."

Harry nodded and turned to Daphne once more.

"I apologise, Ms. Greengrass, but sadly we must cut our conversation short. I do hope we can continue it at a later date." Potter extended his hand to Daphne, and she tentatively returned the gesture, expecting a handshake. Instead, he surprised her once more by politely taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"Enjoy the show," he told her, before turning and starting his walk back to the castle.

Daphne Greengrass remained unmoved for a moment, replaying the surprising conversation in her head. After her brief moment of contemplation, she shook her head and started heading towards the edge of the forest, where the task would take place.

It was time. People were filing into the stands surrounding the rocky clearing where the champions would face their dragons. There were six seating areas in total: one for each Hogwarts house and their guests, and two larger sections for those who had bought tickets for the event, which she assumed included mostly rich purebloods. Daphne knew her parents wouldn't be coming, so she didn't have to worry about that, at least. Even if they did show up for the event, it's not like they'd miss their eldest daughter enough to bother visiting her in the first place.

Daphne sat with her fellow Slytherins, who were giddily betting on Potter's death. Daphne noticed her friend Tracey Davis betting snog time with her boyfriend Theo Nott on exactly how Potter would be hurt, a bet which he quickly accepted and even doubled. Malfoy was being his usual idiotic self, mocking everything and everyone not on his side, while Parkinson was giving him puppy dog eyes and giggling at everything he said.

Daphne ignored the commotion in the Slytherin stands and started scrutinizing the other sections. Unsurprisingly, the Hufflepuffs were all in for their champion, their section a sea of yellow and black, filled with signs and banners supporting Diggory, sprinkled with the occasional anti-Potter slogan. As one would expect, there was nothing to indicate that anyone in Gryffindor still supported Harry Potter. Instead, they also had made signs supporting the official Hogwarts champion. Her eyes skimmed over the Ravenclaw stands and found Cho Chang, who Daphne was sure led the charge to rally most of her house in support of Cedric. It was clear that Potter wouldn't have anyone cheering for him, and it was looking like he would have to deal with both the dragon and a hostile crowd.

Not that she cared.

And she didn't.