Chapter 10
A Promise Given
……
Chapter Ten
Daphne stood before the mirror in her elegantly decorated room, her long blonde hair cascading like a waterfall down her shoulders. The fading sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a warm glow over her reflection. Her mother, Elizabeth, sat behind her, meticulously weaving her hair into an intricate braid adorned with shimmering silver ribbons. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, yet an undercurrent of anxiety lingered in the air.
“Mum,” Daphne began, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability, “what was it like for you when you first started feeling the effects of the curse with Dad?”
Elizabeth paused, her fingers stilling as she considered her daughter's question. The room fell quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of the ribbons. “It was a strange time, darling,” she replied thoughtfully, resuming her work. “At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. I felt this overwhelming draw to your father, as if something deep within me was reaching out for him. It was exhilarating, yet terrifying. That was when your Grandmother told me about the curse”
Daphne’s brow furrowed, a mix of concern and curiosity swirling within her. “But it wasn’t love, was it? It was more like… a compulsion.”
Her mother nodded, her expression turning serious. “Yes, exactly. It felt like being caught in a tide, relentlessly pulled toward him even before I truly knew him. The curse pulled my magic, making it yearn to be near him, to the point that it was nearly impossible to distinguish between what I genuinely felt and what my magic compelled. I realised after speaking to your grandmother that my magic had chosen him, and I had no say in the matter.”
Fingers fidgeting with the silver ribbon, Daphne couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy. “That sounds awful. Did you ever doubt your feelings for him?”
“Of course, every day for months, What was the curse and what was real? I couldn’t tell you and when I tried to think about others romantically, I felt my magic rebuff this almost like it would if you burnt yourself on a hot flame and in my mind I felt repulsed at the idea” Elizabeth said, her tone reflective. “But then your father asked me out, and I felt this incredible relief wash over me, like a cold drink when you eat something too hot. It took time, but I learned to separate my magic from my heart. I realised I could choose to love him genuinely, despite the curse. It was a journey of patience and understanding, but I embraced what was real.”
Daphne caught her mother’s gaze in the mirror, her heart heavy with a mix of admiration and trepidation. “So it’s possible, then? To have both—the magic and the real feelings?”
“Factually, I don't know. Are my feelings for your father natural? I love him dearly, but had my magic not forced me into that bond, would I have chosen him?” Her mother’s brow furrowed in thought. “Part of me thinks I would have. But then I consider myself blessed. The man my magic chose loved me back, and from that, I’ve built a happy marriage and a family. So to answer your question, I do believe you can truly love the person your magic chooses, regardless if the curse is the one dictating the match.”
“When did it start for you?” Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Around your age, darling… ” Elizabeth replied, but then stopped, noticing the worried expression on Daphne’s face. She moved to stand in front of her daughter, concern etched on her features. “It's starting to happen for you, isn’t it?”
Daphne took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her fears pressing down. “Recently, I’ve felt a pulse of magic I’m not familiar with—like something is tugging at my mind, trying to get my attention,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
“Does it happen at specific times or around certain people?”
“Only around Potter,” Daphne said quietly. Elizabeth closed her eyes, reflecting on Harry. For someone her daughter might be bonded to, Harry was actually a good match—kind, brave, and noble. But he was also marked by danger, with the Dark Lord himself after him. The thought made Elizabeth's heart ache. If Harry died, what would become of Daphne?
“I don’t want to end up like Great-Aunt Edith,” Daphne whispered, her voice breaking. Edith had taken her own life when the man her magic had chosen rejected her. He had very publicly pursued another, leaving Edith unable to bear the torment of the curse's unrelenting pull.
“You won’t be, Daphne,” her mother reassured, gently placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.
“You don’t know that, Mum. Even if Potter were interested in me, he’s fighting a war. He could die,” Daphne said, her voice trembling as desperation rose.
“He might not,” Elizabeth said softly.
“But he might!” Daphne shot back. “This curse is horrid, Mum. I don’t get to choose who I love!”
Elizabeth’s heart ached as she saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes. There were moments she regretted having children, knowing they’d be cursed like this. But Thomas had wanted children so badly—two daughters, no less—and now Daphne was facing the same battle she once had.
“Is there someone you would choose, if you could?” Elizabeth asked gently, trying to understand where her daughter’s heart lay.
Daphne shook her head, frustration in her voice. “No. Thankfully, I never let myself hope for that. Besides, most boys my age are idiots,” she muttered.
Elizabeth let out a soft chuckle. “Young boys do tend to be, yes,” she agreed. Then, more seriously, she asked, “Has Harry given you any reason for concern?”
“No,” Daphne admitted, “if anything, he’s… he’s decent. If it were a different life—no war, no house rivalries—I could see myself with someone like him.”
Elizabeth sighed, a touch of relief mixing with concern. “Well, at least you don’t hate him. That’s a blessing in itself. Imagine if it were someone like Malfoy?” she teased lightly.
Daphne’s face twisted in disgust at the thought, drawing a chuckle from her mother. But the laughter quickly faded, replaced by a sense of looming dread. “Mum,” Daphne began, her voice quieter, “what if… what if my magic has chosen Harry? What do I do then? What do I say?”
Elizabeth’s smile softened, but her gaze turned serious. “If your magic truly has chosen him, you’ll need to be careful,” she said. “Harry’s been through so much. He’s a good person, but the last thing he needs is more pressure.”
“I know,” Daphne whispered, anxiety lacing her words.
Elizabeth nodded, her expression thoughtful. “This isn’t something you have to tell him right away, Daphne. And maybe not at all—at least, not until you’re ready.”
“But what if I can’t ignore it forever?” Daphne replied, the frustration returning. “It’s not just about my feelings. It’s like my magic wants something from him, and I can’t stop it. It’s terrifying. What if he wants nothing to do with me?”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Daphne’s voice. She had felt something similar when the curse had affected her, but this was different. Daphne wasn’t just facing emotional uncertainty—she was facing the possibility of losing her agency over her own heart.
“We’ll face that bridge if it comes to it,” Elizabeth said gently. “But you have time. Just because your magic is pulling you toward him doesn’t mean you have to act on it now. You’re still in control of your choices, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
Daphne bit her lip, a heavy sense of uncertainty hanging over her. “Shouldn’t I at least try to find out if he feels anything before it’s too late?”
Elizabeth hesitated, knowing the complexity of her daughter’s question. “You could try,” she said carefully, “but don’t rush. Harry has enough to deal with already, and overwhelming him with something like this could make it harder for him. Imagine how you’d feel if it were the other way around.” She paused, allowing her words to settle. “Give yourself time. Get to know him better and see how you feel with him, not just what your magic tells you. Then, if you’re sure, you can decide if—and when—to tell him.”
Daphne’s eyes darkened with worry. “But how do I even talk to him without feeling like I’m hiding something important? It’s not fair to either of us.”
Elizabeth sighed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “It’s not about lying, love. It’s about protecting both your heart and his. You don’t have to tell him until you’re ready. Sometimes, it’s better to let things unfold naturally, rather than forcing them.”
Daphne’s voice trembled. “But what if the pull just gets worse?”
“Then we’ll face it together,” Elizabeth reassured her. “You won’t be alone in this, Daphne. And if Harry turns out to be someone who could love you in return—and trust me, he’d be a fool to reject a girl like you—then this will become just a memory, something you’ll look back on and smile.”
Daphne stared into the mirror, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. She thought of Harry—the quiet strength in him, the way he treated others with kindness despite the unimaginable burdens he carried. Could someone like him ever feel anything for her, a girl raised in a world so different from his?
The weight of it all settled heavily on her. One thing was clear: this wasn’t something she could run from forever. If her magic truly had chosen Harry, she would have to face it. But how—and when—was still up to her.
For now, all she could do was wait and see.
…
He was about to fix his sleeve again when a familiar voice interrupted him.
“Here, Harry, let me help,” Mrs. Weasley said gently, appearing at his side. Her hands were warm and steady as she straightened the collar of his robes, smoothing out the fabric in the way only a mother could.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry mumbled, a little embarrassed but comforted by the gesture.
Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at him, a soft glimmer of pride in her eyes. “You look very handsome, dear. I’m sure you’ll knock them all flat tonight.”
Harry chuckled, though his mind was still occupied with the weight of the evening ahead. He looked at her as she continued fussing over his robes, making sure every detail was perfect, just as she had done for her own children so many times before.
After a moment, Mrs. Weasley paused, her hands lingering on his sleeve as she glanced up at him, her eyes a little misty. “Harry, I want to thank you again for the new dress robes for everyone,” she said, her voice full of sincerity. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
Harry shook his head, trying to downplay it. “It’s nothing, really. The Weasleys have always been there for me, ever since I came into the wizarding world on my own. You’ve all treated me like family. Buying some dress robes is a small thing compared to everything you’ve done for me.”
Mrs. Weasley’s expression softened even further, her eyes filled with a mixture of affection and sadness. “Oh, Harry, no wizard or witch can ever repay you for what you did as a baby and for what you lost at the same time, or for what you’re being asked to do again now. We all owe you more than we can ever express, and wizarding Britain will be forever in your debt.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably at the mention of it, unsure of how to respond. But Mrs. Weasley wasn’t finished.
She reached up, cupping the side of his face gently, her motherly warmth enveloping him. “I would never try to replace your mother, Harry,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “But I want you to know that you’ll always have a family with us. You’re always welcome here, no matter what happens. You are as much one of ours as any of my own children. And I knew Lily, she would be so very proud of you.”
Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He hadn’t expected this, but the words hit him deeply. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he managed, his voice a little rough. “That means… a lot.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled through her own emotion, giving his arm a final squeeze before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Well then, you’re all set. You’ll be the best-looking young man at the ball tonight.”
Harry chuckled, a little more at ease now. “Thanks. But I think Ron’s going to give me a run for my money in those new robes.”
Mrs. Weasley’s laughter was warm and light. “Well, we’ll see about that.” She paused, her expression softening again. “Just enjoy yourself tonight, Harry. You deserve it.”
“I’ll try,” Harry said, feeling lighter but still carrying the weight of her words.
With a final pat on his shoulder, Mrs. Weasley stepped back, leaving him to his thoughts as he adjusted his cuff one last time. The weight of the evening was still there, but now there was a bit more warmth to carry him through it.
He stood by the foot of the staircase. His deep green dress robes were tailored sharply to his frame, the dark emerald fabric catching the evening light as he moved. Underneath, a black waistcoat buttoned neatly over a crisp white shirt, the whole ensemble giving him a formal yet dashing appearance. He wasn’t used to wearing something this nice before this summer,let alone something that matched,but it was for a summer ball, after all. His thoughts were racing, not just about his attire, but the political tension that came with these sorts of events.
Just then, a sound on the stairs made him look up, and his breath caught as Tonks descended.
Her gown was the same rich green as his robes, the fabric flowing elegantly with her every step. It was simple yet striking—designed with practicality in mind but still undeniably beautiful. The bodice hugged her waist before flaring out subtly at the hips, allowing for ease of movement—perfect for dancing, yet formal enough to hold its own in any ballroom. The dress was sleeveless, with wide straps that curved gracefully around her shoulders, giving it an understated elegance. Her hair was short tonight, a soft, dark brown that framed her face, contrasting against the deep green of the dress.
“Well?” she asked with a grin, doing a small twirl at the bottom of the stairs. “Do I look the part?”
Harry, who had been staring, blinked and managed a smile, he might not think of her as anything but family but he wasn’t blind. “You look brilliant.”
Tonks’ smile widened as she eyed Harry’s outfit, one brow lifting in approval. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Potter, and I see Remus’ lessons in gentlemanly manners have paid off.”
“Must’ve stuck,” Harry said with a laugh, his nerves easing a bit at her playful tone.
Tonks stepped closer, giving him a warm, conspiratorial look as she adjusted his lapel. “I can tell you’re not really nervous about the dancing or the dress robes,” she said softly, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You’re tense about all the politics tonight, aren’t you?”
Harry glanced away briefly from her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe a little. There’s always so much going on in the background at these things. Makes it hard to just… enjoy anything.”
Tonks shook her head, her expression turning more serious. “Well, don’t worry. I’m here for you tonight. And I’ll make sure you have a good time, even if I have to hex every rabid witch who tries to throw herself at you.”
Harry grinned, the tension easing from his shoulders as he met her gaze. “I appreciate the protection fair maiden. Merlin knows I’ll need it.”
“Consider me your personal bodyguard for the night,” she replied with a wink. “We will just have to dance all night”
“Alright lets not get carried away!” Harry smiled.
At that moment, Sirius and Remus appeared, both looking uncharacteristically formal in their dress robes. Sirius’ black robes were sleek and modern, while Remus wore classic grey ones, a silver pocket watch peeking out from his waistcoat. Both men grinned as they took in the sight of Harry, their eyes twinkling with pride.
“Well, would you look at this?” Sirius said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “If you’re not the spitting image of a handsome young man, I don’t know what is.”
“You do the name of Potter proud, Harry,” Remus added warmly. “All the hard work you’ve put in this summer, everything you’ve faced, it’s no small thing.”
For a moment, Harry couldn’t speak. A flood of emotions hit him, his parents, the weight of their legacy, the pressure of everything that lay ahead. His throat tightened, but he swallowed hard, forcing the feelings back down. He couldn’t lose it now, not tonight. Having lost his parents young was a strange blessing as he had no memories to mourn, but it was events like this when he would see Mrs Weasley fuss over her children and how they would try to push her off in good nature reminded him that he had never experienced that.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He quickly cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face. “Now let’s get on with it before Sirius decides to give me a makeover or something.”
Sirius let out a hearty laugh and pulled Harry into a brief but strong hug. “Always dodging the feelings, aren’t you, kid? Don’t worry—we’re all here for you. Now, let’s go show those stuffy pure-bloods how to have a real good time.”
Harry chuckled, shaking off the lingering weight of emotion as Sirius released him.
“Ready, everyone?” Remus asked, looking around at the group.
Tonks adjusted her dress one last time before looping her arm through Harry’s. “I think we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” she said, shooting him an encouraging smile.
“Let’s go, then,” Sirius declared, flashing a mischievous grin as he led the way out the door.
And with that, they stepped into the night, leaving behind any lingering doubts. Whatever challenges the evening held, Harry knew he wasn’t facing them alone.
…
Harry and Tonks stepped out of the carriage and approached the entrance to Bones Manor, their arms linked. The manor itself was a stunning sight, its high stone walls gleaming under the soft glow of enchanted lanterns that lit the path to the grand ballroom. The summer night was warm, the evening breeze carrying the distant hum of music and laughter that drifted through the air.
Tonks glanced at him, giving him a smile of encouragement. Her deep green dress shimmered in the low light, perfectly complementing Harry’s matching green dress robes.
“You alright, Potter?” she teased lightly as they neared the grand doors. “You look like you’ve just faced a Hungarian Horntail.”
Harry chuckled, adjusting the cuff of his robes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Yeah, just about to walk into the lions den though aren't we?”
“Badgers actually” Tonks corrected with a smirk. “Amelia was a Hufflepuff I’ll have you know”
“Odd, because she's as fierce as a lioness,” Sirius added.
“Have you met a honey badger? They fight lions all the time, savage little beasts” Tonks countered.
“No doubt, but puffs aren’t honey badgers are they” Sirius winked as they all approached the manor entrance.
As Harry, Tonks, Sirius, and Remus approached the grand entrance of Bones Manor, they were greeted by a formally dressed butler. The butler, tall and dignified, gave a deep bow.
“Welcome to Bones Manor, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, Miss Tonks. Madam Bones has instructed me to personally escort you to the ballroom.”
“Lead the way,” Sirius replied with a casual wave, though his eyes sparkled with his usual mischief.
The entrance hall of the manor was just as grand as the ballroom promised to be, with high vaulted ceilings and tapestries depicting famous magical battles. The floor was polished marble, reflecting the glow of softly burning sconces along the walls. The faint sound of music drifted from further inside, and Harry felt a mixture of nerves and anticipation rise in his chest.
As they walked, the butler continued speaking in a calm, measured tone, “The event is well underway, but Madam Bones wishes to ensure your arrival is appropriately noted.” He gave a knowing look, hinting at the formality and political weight of such an appearance.
Tonks leaned over and whispered to Harry, “You’re about to make quite the entrance, Mr. Potter. Ready?”
Harry gave her a tight smile. “Not like I have much choice.”
Remus chuckled softly behind them, “You’ve faced worse.”
As they reached the double doors leading into the ballroom, two additional attendants stood on either side, waiting. One of them stepped forward, raising his wand to his throat and muttering a Sonorus charm.
“Presenting Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Sirius Black, Mr. Remus Lupin, and Miss Nymphadora Tonks,” the attendant's voice echoed grandly, as the tall double doors swung open with a graceful flourish.
“My name is NOT Nymphadora,” Tonks whispered furiously, though her protest went unheeded.
The grand ballroom of Bones Manor was breathtaking. The ceiling stretched high above, enchanted to mirror the twilight sky. Stars twinkled softly, while ethereal clouds drifted lazily, giving the room a serene and timeless quality. Crystal chandeliers, shaped like delicate orbs of light, hovered effortlessly, casting a warm golden glow that illuminated the space with a soft, welcoming radiance.
The walls were lined with tall windows framed by heavy velvet curtains, their dark green fabric enhancing the room’s elegant atmosphere. The panes themselves were enchanted to reflect the manicured gardens outside, where fairy lights danced among the hedges, and water shimmered in the moonlit fountains. Ornate marble columns rose along the perimeter, standing as silent sentinels to the grandeur of the ballroom. Beneath their feet, the polished marble floor gleamed, reflecting the elegance that surrounded them.
Witches and wizards dressed in exquisite robes mingled in clusters around the room, their quiet, animated conversations creating a hum of energy. The attendees were no ordinary guests—ministry officials, heads of prestigious wizarding families, and other notable figures. The air buzzed with a heady mix of sophistication and the subtle tension that came with any gathering where political power hung in the balance.
As Harry and his companions stepped inside, eyes naturally turned in their direction. The arrival of "The Boy Who Lived" was a draw in itself, and it was clear their entrance had not gone unnoticed. Harry felt the weight of those glances, some curious, others speculative. He squared his shoulders, trying to focus on keeping calm.
Sirius leaned in with a grin, his voice low but teasing, “Relax”.
Harry smirked in response. “Thanks for the pep talk, Sirius.”
Remus gave him a reassuring pat on the back, his tone more measured. “You’ll be fine, Harry. Not everyone here is an enemy”.
Tonks, sensing his unease, leaned closer and dropped her voice to a playful whisper. “A quick drink and a dance and you’ll be fine”
Harry chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension ebb away.
The quartet in the corner played a soft, enchanting melody, filling the ballroom with a harmonious backdrop as the night continued to unfold. With Tonks on his arm and Sirius and Remus just behind, Harry felt a little more grounded. Despite the magnitude of the event, he wasn’t entirely alone in it, and that brought some measure of comfort.
As they stepped further into the room, the reaction was almost palpable. Conversations slowed to murmurs, eyes subtly shifting in their direction as the attendees took note of Harry’s arrival. The soft glow from the chandeliers above cast a spotlight effect on the quartet, drawing attention to them as they entered.
Some of the guests stared openly—recognizing The Boy Who Lived as if seeing a living legend walk among them. Others exchanged quiet whispers behind raised hands, their gazes flicking between Harry and his companions with curiosity, calculation, or even skepticism.
A group of elderly wizards, their beards impeccably groomed, nodded in approval as Harry passed, their expressions assessing but respectful. Across the room, a few younger witches giggled behind their hands, their eyes lingering on him a little too long. The dress robes that had made Harry feel slightly out of place now seemed to command a certain respect, helping him blend into this world of elegant appearances.
Tonks squeezed his arm gently in reassurance.
He could see some familiar faces in the room—people he recognised from the Ministry, a few from Hogwarts, and even members of the Order. However, there was an underlying tension beneath the surface; the air seemed thick with expectations, as if every move he made was being scrutinized, evaluated. This wasn’t just a social gathering—it was a political dance, with stakes far higher than just pleasantries and idle chatter.
For a fleeting moment, Harry caught sight of Amelia Bones standing near the far end of the ballroom, speaking with a group of dignitaries. Her gaze met his briefly, her expression calm but knowing, a reminder that he was not just an honored guest tonight—he was a symbol. And then she started moving over to them.
…..
I admit when i was editing my last chapter i forgot to take the old authors note out! So ignore that! The next chapter will have major changes to make the ball more alive.