Chapter 6
A Promise Given
Authors Note - I hope you enjoy it.
……
Chapter Six
Sirius stood at the edge of the Greengrass training field, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he watched Harry, his godson, push himself through another grueling session. The warm summer breeze rustled through the tall grass surrounding the field, but Sirius barely noticed. His eyes were locked on Harry, completing a series of press-ups, his arms trembling with the strain, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. Harry had already run countless laps around the field, and now he was pushing his body to its limits—again.
It had been a week and a half since Dumbledore’s revelation about the Horcrux in Harry’s scar, and Sirius had tried desperately to push that horrible truth out of his mind. But it lingered like a shadow, creeping into every moment of silence, every flicker of pride he felt for Harry’s progress. The idea that his godson would have to die for Voldemort to be defeated was unbearable.
He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the grief that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about it. He felt like he’d already failed Harry, James, and Lily. He had promised them, in their final moments, that he would take care of Harry. He would protect him. And yet, here they were, facing a future where the only way Harry could survive was through a miracle. The guilt gnawed at him like a constant, relentless ache.
Sirius shifted his weight, his gaze still locked on Harry. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but be impressed by how far his godson had come. The training had been relentless, but Harry had handled it with the kind of resilience and determination Sirius had always known he possessed. His stamina had increased, and his lean frame had begun to show the first signs of muscle definition. His arms and shoulders were developing strength, and there was a sharper focus in his movements now, a precision that hadn't been there before. Harry was growing into a fighter—lean, tough, and unbreakable in spirit.
But Sirius couldn’t shake the heavy burden of knowing that no amount of training would change the fact that Harry was bound to Voldemort in a way no one else could understand. No amount of push-ups or dueling practice would free him from the piece of Voldemort’s soul lodged within him. And yet, watching Harry push himself now, so unaware of the full scope of the danger he faced, Sirius’s heart ached with a fierce, protective love. He would die before he let anyone harm Harry—Horcrux or no Horcrux.
As Sirius watched, he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching. Turning, he saw Elizabeth Greengrass making her way toward him, her steps elegant and deliberate as she crossed the field. She gave a polite nod in greeting before her eyes shifted to Harry, observing him with a keen gaze.
"How’s the training going?" she asked, her tone polite but curious.
Sirius gave her a brief, appreciative smile. “Perfect. Your grounds are ideal for this kind of work. I can’t thank you enough for letting us use them.”
Elizabeth waved away his thanks with a casual hand. “It’s the least we can do, given the circumstances. Besides, it seems Harry is making excellent use of them.”
Sirius nodded, glancing back at Harry, who had moved on to strength training, now doing sit-ups in the center of the field. “He’s determined,” Sirius said, his voice filled with quiet pride. “More than I’ve ever seen. I’ve been pushing him hard, but he’s taking it in stride.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “He’s changed a lot physically in such a short time,” she observed. “Not many would show such discipline, especially given everything that’s happening. Heaven knows my girls wouldn’t be out of bed doing this sort of training”
“He knows what's at stake,” Sirius replied, his voice a little rougher than usual. “He doesn’t take anything for granted, not anymore.”
There was a brief silence as they watched Harry together. Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, and Sirius could see the thoughtful glint in her eyes as she observed the young man who was, in many ways, a stranger to her but whose future was so entwined with the world they all inhabited.
“You and I didn’t cross paths much at school, did we?” Elizabeth remarked after a moment, breaking the silence with a faint smile.
Sirius chuckled lightly. “No, not really. I guess I was too busy getting detention or sneaking off with James to notice much outside of that.”
Elizabeth gave him a knowing smile. “I remember the rumors. You and your friends had quite the reputation.”
He shrugged with a small grin. “Well, we had our fun.”
“Thomas always said you Gryffindors were... troublemakers.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and Sirius couldn’t help but smile back.
“He was a Slytherin, no? Not unexpected for him to think that” Sirius chuckled.
They stood there for a few moments longer, sharing the quiet of the afternoon, watching Harry continue his relentless training. The sounds of his effort—sharp breaths and the rhythmic thudding of his movements—filled the air between them.
Finally, Elizabeth spoke again, her voice more formal now. “Thomas and I were wondering if you and Harry would join us for dinner this evening. It would be nice to have a proper meal together.”
Sirius turned to her, momentarily surprised but quickly grateful for the offer. “That’s very kind of you,” he said sincerely. “I’ll ask Harry, but I’m sure he could use the break. And to be honest, so could I.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We’d be happy to host you both. It’s the least we can do after opening our home to you.”
Sirius gave her a rare, genuine smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders. “Thank you. Really. I’m sure Harry will appreciate it.”
She inclined her head, then glanced back toward the field, watching as Harry, his energy finally starting to wane, pushed himself through his final set of exercises. “He’s stronger than I expected,” she said quietly. “Not just physically.”
Sirius followed her gaze, feeling the familiar knot of pride and fear twist in his chest. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “He is.”
With that, Elizabeth gave him a final nod and excused herself, as she made to turn away, Sirius cleared his throat, hesitating for just a moment before speaking.
“Elizabeth, if I may ask… is Daphne studying Ancient Runes?”
She paused and glanced back at him, her expression curious. “Yes, she is. Why do you ask?”
Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “Well, Harry will be switching to Ancient Runes next year, but he’ll need to catch up on the last three years' worth of work. I was wondering… do you think he could review some of Daphne’s notes? Just to get up to speed?”
Elizabeth considered it for a moment, her face thoughtful. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I’ll check with Daphne, of course. She’s very particular about her notes.”
Sirius smiled, relieved at her openness. “Thank you. I think it would help him out.”
Elizabeth smiled in return. “I’ll also ask if she wouldn’t mind helping him catch up herself. Daphne’s quite studious—she may enjoy having someone to go over the material with.”
“That would be brilliant,” Sirius said, visibly brightening at the idea. “Harry might even appreciate some extra guidance.”
With that, Elizabeth gave a final nod. “I’ll speak with her before dinner, and I’ll let you know.”
…
Elizabeth Greengrass walked briskly back from the training field, her mind lingering on the conversation she’d had with Sirius. Harry Potter had changed, that much was clear. Not just physically, but in his demeanor as well. There was a quiet determination about him now, a focus she hadn’t seen in many young witches and wizards his age. The fact that Sirius had asked about Daphne’s Ancient Runes notes intrigued her. It was hard to imagine Potter studying something as demanding as that, but then again, there was much about him that defied expectations.
As she entered the cool, elegant hallway of Greengrass Manor, she called up the stairs, “Daphne, darling, could you come down for a moment?”
There was a brief pause before Daphne’s voice floated down. “Coming, Mother.”
Moments later, Daphne descended the stairs, her blonde hair pinned back neatly, her expression one of mild curiosity. She was dressed casually, likely having just come from her own studies. “What is it?” she asked, approaching her mother.
Elizabeth smiled warmly at her daughter. “I wanted to ask you something. How would you feel about sharing your Ancient Runes notes with Harry Potter?”
Daphne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Potter? But... he’s not in my class. Why would he need my notes?”
“Apparently,” Elizabeth began, her tone amused, “he’s taking it up this year and needs to catch up on the last three years of material. Sirius asked if you might be willing to lend him your notes to help him out.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “He’s studying Ancient Runes? I didn’t even think Potter was that… academic.” Her voice wasn’t derisive, just genuinely surprised.
“I was just as surprised as you,” Elizabeth admitted with a slight chuckle. “But from what I gather, he’s been working very hard to catch up on things, and Ancient Runes is no small challenge. Would you be willing to share your notes with him?”
Daphne hesitated for a moment, as though weighing the idea. “I suppose I could,” she said finally, a thoughtful look on her face. “I mean, it’s not like my notes are a secret. And if he’s really serious about learning it, then why not? I just… didn’t expect him to be the type.”
Elizabeth nodded, clearly pleased with her daughter’s open-mindedness. “Thank you, Daphne. I also wanted to ask if you’d be willing to give him a brief rundown of what you’ve learned over the years. I think having someone explain it in person might help him get his bearings.”
Daphne looked contemplative for a moment but then shrugged lightly. “I can do that. It might be interesting to see how much he knows already. Besides, it’s not as if Ancient Runes is a subject most people talk about often.”
Her mother smiled fondly at her. “You’ve always been so dedicated to your studies, and I’m sure your help will make a real difference. Perhaps you can speak with him tomorrow?”
Daphne nodded. “I’ll start gathering my notes tonight. I’m sure I can find some time tomorrow to give him a basic overview.”
Elizabeth looked at her daughter with pride. “Thank you, dear. It means a lot, and I’m sure Harry will appreciate it as well. Now, how about we prepare for dinner? I’ve invited Sirius and Harry to join us this evening.”
Daphne’s eyes flashed with interest. “You know Astoria will be unbearable?” She paused, considering the unusual combination. “That should be... interesting.”
Elizabeth smiled as they walked toward the kitchen. “Yes, I thought it would be a nice gesture. After all, they’ve been here daily training and we haven’t interacted much so I thought it would be nice”.
As Daphne climbed the stairs back to her room, her mind lingered on her mother’s request. Harry Potter, of all people, taking up Ancient Runes three years behind. The thought surprised her more than she cared to admit. He’d never been in her class, and the idea of him poring over something as intricate and tedious as runes seemed… unexpected.
In her other classes with him—like Defense Against the Dark Arts—Harry stood out in ways she had to begrudgingly respect. He wasn’t just good, he was remarkably good, perhaps the most gifted student in their year, if not the entire school. She'd seen it in the way he moved in duels, his reflexes sharp, his instincts honed in ways most others couldn’t hope to match. And while Potions was a different story—thanks in no small part to Professor Snape’s thinly veiled loathing—she’d noticed he was competent, even if constantly undermined. Herbology, too, was something he managed with surprising ease, even if it was far from his favorite subject.
But Ancient Runes? It was an entirely different beast. It required patience, deep concentration, and an affinity for translating cryptic symbols that often led down endless rabbit holes. The idea of Potter—The Boy Who Lived—sitting still long enough to decipher ancient texts seemed improbable.
Her room, cool in its cream and white palette, felt like a sanctuary from the heat outside. The furnishings were elegant, a more modern take on the classic Georgian style of the manor. A large bookshelf lined the far wall, filled with tomes on magical theory and history, their spines meticulously organized. A delicate white desk, cluttered with parchment and ink bottles, sat by the window overlooking the Greengrass grounds.
Daphne crossed the room to her desk and began pulling out her notes, organising them by year. The runes from her third and fourth years were still fresh in her mind, though she’d have to explain the basics to Harry. As she worked, her thoughts wandered to how her housemates might react if they found out she was helping Harry Potter.
Slytherin was hardly the place for open alliances with the Boy Who Lived. Especially not now, with so many leaning toward the Dark Lord’s side, whether by choice or pressure from their families. She could almost hear Pansy Parkinson’s snide remarks, or worse, the cold scrutiny from the likes of Draco Malfoy. A flicker of discomfort crossed her face, but she quickly dismissed it.
The truth was, she had bigger concerns than the judgments of her housemates.
Her thoughts shifted, becoming heavier, as they often did when she considered the looming shadow of Voldemort and what it meant for her and Astoria’s future. The Greengrass family had always managed to remain neutral in the wars of the past, but neutrality was becoming a dangerous stance. And if Voldemort prevailed... Daphne shuddered at the thought of her life being tied to someone loyal to him, someone she could never love, someone she’d feel... nothing for.
Daphne paused, her hand resting on the stack of parchment, her mind drifting to the thought that always lurked in the background—the curse that plagued her family for generations. It was ancient, twisted, and nearly forgotten by most of the world, but the women from her mother's side could never forge itt. Her mother had explained it to her in hushed tones when she was younger, warning her of its power and its potential to shape her future in ways she couldn’t control.
Centuries ago, a scorned admirer had cast the curse, enraged that the woman he loved had chosen another. As retribution, he had bound her and her descendants to a cruel fate: they could only fall in love once, with one person, chosen not by their heart, but by their magic.
At first, it sounded like something from a tragic fairy tale—romantic in a way, the idea of finding one true love, of being bound to someone for eternity. But Daphne knew better and curses didn't work that way. The curse didn’t guarantee happiness the caster felt the gamble was torture. It didn’t promise that the one their magic chose would return their feelings. In fact, it often led to heartbreak. If the person chosen by the curse didn’t love them back, the woman was doomed to a life of longing, watching as the one they loved rejected them and found someone else, leaving them to suffer in silence.
Her mother had been lucky. Her father, Thomas, had returned her mother’s love, and together they had built a strong, happy family. But not all of her ancestors had been so fortunate. There were stories of relatives who had been consumed by despair, their lives filled with misery as they watched the person they were bound to fall for someone else, powerless to change it.
That was the true horror of the curse—it wasn’t just the inability to love anyone else, but the possibility that the one person they were destined to care for would never love them in return and you were powerless to stop it.
Daphne pushed the thought aside, focusing back on her task of collecting her Ancient Runes notes. No point in dwelling on things you can’t change. But it lingered in the back of her mind, a quiet dread. Her magic would choose eventually, whether she wanted it to or not.
For now, she couldn’t afford to worry about that. Potter needed help, and she had agreed to assist him; it was a minor act that wouldn’t affect the outcome of the war. It felt like a strange twist of fate to be drawn into the Boy Who Lived orbit, but perhaps, in some small way, this was her own act of rebellion against the darkness that threatened to swallow their world. If helping Harry meant they stood a better chance of defeating Voldemort, then it was a step worth taking.
As she continued gathering her notes, Daphne couldn't shake the lingering question of who her magic would eventually choose. Would it be the powerful love her mother had often spoken of? It was a constant stress in her life as she got older, the curse tended to come to life around her age, a bond that could transcend the darkness of their world. Or would it lead her down the painful path that so many women before her had endured, bound to someone who might never reciprocate her feelings? She shuddered at the thought, fervently hoping that it wouldn’t be someone from her own house. Most of the boys there were either stuck-up, complete morons or just dreadfully boring.
With a sigh, she moved to the large bay window of her room, the late afternoon light spilling in and illuminating the cool cream and white tones of her space. Peering out, she caught sight of the training grounds where their guests were practicing. In the distance, two figures caught her attention: one lay flat on the ground while the other crouched beside him, presumably offering some words of encouragement—or perhaps gentle scolding, Merlin knew but it gave her a warm feeling looking at the sight
…
In the spare room the Greengrass family had provided, Harry stood in front of a large mirror, adjusting the v-neck of his cobalt blue jumper. It felt strange to be getting ready for dinner in someone else’s home, but he appreciated the normalcy it offered.
“Do I look presentable enough for a family dinner?” Harry asked, glancing sideways at Sirius, who was rummaging through his bag.
Sirius looked up, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You look like a strapping young man, Harry. We’re not going to a Ministry function, you know. It’s just dinner.” He stepped behind Harry and rested his hands on his godson’s shoulders. Merlin, his parents would be proud of the young man before him. “Looks like the exercise is paying off; you’re feeling some meat on those shoulders.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulders, prompting the younger wizard to shrug him off, chuckling.
“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry replied quietly, taking a moment to look himself over in the mirror. Sirius still noted Harry still struggled to accept compliments, and he couldn’t shake the planning he needed to do regarding the Dursleys. They wouldn’t forget what he’d done, that was for sure.
“Trust me, mate. If they expected you to dress to the nines for dinner, they would’ve made it clear,” Sirius chuckled, slipping on a dark green jumper that accentuated his frame. “I mean, I’m wearing this, for Merlin’s sake.”
Harry laughed, the tension from the day beginning to melt away. “You’re a walking fashion statement, Sirius. I’ll be sure to take notes.”
“Just remember, casual cool is key,” Sirius said with a mock-serious tone, putting a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “If you look too polished, they might think you’ve been taking lessons from Malfoy.”
“Yeah, because looking like Draco is exactly what I want,” Harry replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “But if that’s the case, why did you buy me all those fancy robes last week?”
“There’s a time and place for those things, Harry. All right, let’s get down there before they send a search party. I hear Elizabeth makes a mean roast.”
“Right behind you,” Harry said, feeling more at ease. He took one last glance in the mirror, adjusted his hair, and followed Sirius out of the room.
As Harry and Sirius made their way down the stairs, the warm aroma of roast wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of soft laughter and conversation from the dining room. Harry’s stomach growled in anticipation, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since lunch
“Just a normal dinner, Harry. Nothing to worry about,” Sirius said, nudging him playfully as they entered the dining room.
The dining room was an elegant blend of modern and Georgian styles, exuding an air of sophistication. The large wooden table, crafted from rich mahogany, was polished to a deep shine, its surface reflecting the glow of the candles flickering at its center. Each place setting was meticulously arranged, with fine china plates and crystal glassware that caught the light beautifully.
Flanking the table were high-backed chairs upholstered in a cool cream fabric, giving a comfortable yet regal feel to the space. The walls were painted in a soft, muted gray, adorned with tasteful artwork—abstract pieces that provided a modern touch against the classic architecture of the room. Crown molding framed the ceiling, while large bay windows allowed the soft evening light to filter in, casting a warm glow over the proceedings.
Elizabeth stood at the head of the table, her hands busy arranging a platter of perfectly roasted chicken. Thomas, her husband, was setting down a bowl of roasted vegetables, his expression relaxed and welcoming.
“Harry! Sirius!” Elizabeth called, her eyes brightening as she caught sight of them. “Perfect timing! Dinner’s just about ready.”
“Smells amazing, Elizabeth,” Harry said, genuinely impressed as he took a seat next to Sirius.
“Glad you think so!” she replied, her smile warm. “I always make sure to have plenty when we have guests.”
Thomas turned to Harry once they had all sat down and began piling food onto their plates, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “So, Harry, what spellwork are you studying at the moment?”
Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been focusing on defensive magic and movement with Sirius,” he replied, a sense of pride swelling within him as he mentioned his recent training. “Last week was all about dodging and blocking, and this week I’m shifting to offense.”
“Good choice,” Thomas said, nodding. “My understanding is most of the Dark Lord's followers favor aggression compared to traditional duelists, even Aurors.” He glanced at Sirius, who nodded in agreement. “It’s the inner circle that will truly test the Aurors—and by extension, you, Harry.”
“Well, we don't have to worry about Bellatrix any longer; she was perhaps the most dangerous. Malfoy and Nott, however, are still a threat,” Sirius added, his expression serious.
“Yes I had seen that her body was found at the ministry following the battle we already about” Thomas replied
“Draco and Theo’s fathers? Their pompous sons don’t suggest they are tough,” Astoria muttered, rolling her eyes.
“I wouldn’t underestimate Lucius or Gerald. The former is very good with a wand and incredibly cruel, if the rumors are to be believed,” Thomas replied gravely.
“Perhaps this is not the talk for the dinner table, love,” Elizabeth interjected softly, sensing the dark subject dragging the mood down.
The atmosphere shifted slightly as Astoria piped up from across the table, her eyes wide with interest. “Have you mastered your Patronus yet, Harry?”
Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him at the change in subject. “Yeah, I have! It’s a stag—just like my dad’s,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face as he recalled the warmth and strength he felt when he first conjured it.
“That’s amazing!” Astoria exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.
“Very fitting,” Sirius interjected, his voice low but filled with pride. “It’s a powerful symbol of protection. And if it weren’t for Harry here, the Dementors would’ve had my soul.”
Astoria’s eyes went wide. “No way—that rumor about you defeating a hundred Dementors was true?” she practically shouted, earning a chuckle from Sirius and a sheepish smile from Harry.
“Er... it was nothing, really—”
“Nothing? You know most people can’t defeat even one Dementor, right? You must be powerful!” the youngest Greengrass interrupted, her voice full of awe.
“I had good teachers... and a bit of luck,” Harry replied, trying to deflect the praise.
“Does that mean the rumor about you killing a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets is true as well?” she pressed on.
Harry looked to Sirius, silently pleading for help, but his godfather just smirked in amusement. Glancing around, Harry noticed the whole Greengrass family was watching him with interest now. The Dementor story had already earned him an impressed look from Thomas, and a horrified glance from Elizabeth, and even Daphne seemed intrigued.
“Er, well... yes,” Harry muttered.
“How on earth did you kill a Basilisk? Those creatures are a wizard’s bane—we assumed the rumors were... embellished,” Thomas asked, his expression shifting from impressed to sheer shock.
“I can see why you’d think that,” Harry began, still feeling a bit uncomfortable with the attention. “It doesn’t get any more grounded. Dumbledore’s phoenix attacked its eyes, which let me fight without having to keep mine closed. Then, using the sword of Gryffindor, I stabbed it through the skull just as it bit me.”
Predicting the next question, Harry rolled up his sleeve, revealing the scar on his forearm. “Phoenix tears healed the wound before the poison could kill me.”
“Holy bloody f-,” Astoria gasped.
“Astoria!” Both her parents and her sister chided her in unison.
As the conversation gradually returned to lighter subjects, Harry finally began to relax, comforted by the warmth and friendliness around him. It was a welcome change from the weight that often settled on his shoulders when thoughts of the war crept in.
Daphne, sitting quietly across the table, listened intently. She was surprised by how naturally her family engaged with Harry and, frankly, the way he provided context to the rumors that circulated about him. There was something about him that felt... different. Watching him discuss his Patronus with Thomas and Astoria, she found herself intrigued by the way he carried himself—confident yet humble. A far cry from the rumors that painted him as inept or socially stunted. Whilst Harry describing something in his conversation with her father she nearly knocked over her glass whilst she listened intently, she went to grab it before it split but Harry was quicker and caught it, his warm hand briefly brushing hers.
Her fingers lingered just a moment against his. The warmth of that brief touch still flickered in her mind, a strange sensation that left her momentarily flustered; she wasn’t fond of touching, even when Tracey tried to hug her. Shaking her head slightly, she willed herself to focus on the conversation.
“Daphne?” Her mother’s voice cut through her swirling thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just... thinking,” she replied, forcing a smile, trying to shake off the feeling that had startled her.
“Right,” her mother said, a hint of concern still lingering in her eyes before she returned to the conversation.
Desperate to redirect her thoughts, Daphne turned to Harry. “I heard from my mother you’re taking up Ancient Runes?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, glancing toward Sirius for confirmation. “He thinks it’ll help with the spells and charms we’re working on.”
“Good choice,” Daphne said, nodding. “I’ve been studying Ancient Runes for the last couple of years. My notes are nearly ready, so if it suits you, I could help you catch up after training tomorrow. Maybe spend an hour going over what I’ve learned?”
Harry’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “That would be great! I’d really appreciate it.”
He looked to Sirius for approval, who offered an encouraging nod. “Sounds like a plan, Harry. Runes can be quite intricate, so having a talented tutor like Daphne will be invaluable.”
“Just don’t expect me to make it too easy,” Daphne teased lightly, her earlier shock fading away. “I won’t waste my precious summer holidays on a lazy student,” she added with a smile, catching Astoria’s wide-eyed expression out of the corner of her eye, as if Daphne had suddenly grown a second head.
“Join the queue of people doing that,” Harry shot back, a grin spreading across his face.
……