Chapter 27
A Promise Given
Chapter Twenty-Seven
……
The chilly air of December nipped at their noses as the trio made their way through the bustling Hogsmeade Station, their breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. Snow fell gently, blanketing the platform in a soft white powder that crunched underfoot. The Hogwarts Express, its scarlet paint glistening in the faint winter sunlight, let out a low, echoing whistle as it prepared for the journey back to London. The platform was alive with the chatter and laughter of students, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the distant bark of a pet from a cage.
“Tell you what, I cannot wait for some dinner when we get home,” Ron chimed, his voice cheerful as he slung one of Hermione’s bags over his shoulder. The weight caused him to stagger slightly, earning an exasperated glance from Hermione.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” Hermione replied, though her words were softened by a smile as Harry hauled the rest of their trunks and cages onto the train. Crookshanks let out a displeased yowl from his carrier, which Hermione quickly soothed with a few soft words and a scratch through the bars.
“Do you think of anything other than food?” she chuckled as she glanced at Ron, her hair catching the light like a halo of chestnut brown.
“Chess, oh, and Quidditch!” Ron declared proudly, puffing out his chest as though those two hobbies were achievements to rival Hermione’s academic prowess. Harry smirked, shaking his head as he adjusted Hedwig’s cage, making sure she was steady and calm.
“If only you’d apply that passion to learning, Ron, you’d excel,” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.
“Thanks… I think,” Ron replied, sharing a bemused glance with Harry. His ears reddened slightly, but whether from the cold or Hermione’s remark, it was hard to tell.
Around them, other students were saying their goodbyes to friends or hurriedly loading their belongings onto the train. The atmosphere was lively, with bursts of excitement over holiday plans and cheerful reunions with pets that had been carefully transported by carriage from the castle. A group of first-years shuffled past, their arms laden with Christmas parcels, scarves trailing behind them like banners. One of them nearly tripped over an errant trunk but was caught by a helpful older student.
Harry, however, was looking for one particular student.
His eyes scanned the platform, moving from group to group with practiced subtlety. The chatter and movement around him faded slightly into the background as he searched for Daphne. It wasn’t often he had a chance to see her outside of their careful and secretive meetings, and he’d hoped to catch a glimpse of her before the train left.
Just as his hope began to falter, someone brushed past him with deliberate force, their shoulder colliding with his.
“Watch where you’re standing, Potter,” came a familiar, cool voice laced with amusement. He turned to see Daphne Greengrass, her pale blonde hair catching the light like spun silver. She stood there with an air of practiced nonchalance, her sharp eyes glinting in the soft winter sunlight. Behind her, her younger sister Astoria looked up at Harry curiously, while Tracey Davis smirked knowingly at the interaction.
“Sorry, didn’t realize I was in the way,” Harry replied evenly, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. His heartbeat quickened, but he kept his tone steady.
Daphne tilted her head, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re always in the way,” she quipped, her voice just loud enough to carry over the hum of the platform. Then, in a lower, more measured tone meant only for him, she added, “Don’t think you’re off the hook for the Ancient Runes project just because it’s Christmas. I expect you to keep up.”
Harry nodded, his expression neutral, though he felt a pang of disappointment that their conversation had to remain so surface-level. “Wouldn’t dream of slacking,” he replied lightly. “You can owl me if there’s anything specific you need.”
“I will,” Daphne said, her voice firm but her eyes betraying a flicker of something more—something unspoken. Harry could tell she wanted to say more, but the presence of her companions and the openness of the platform made it impossible.
“Good,” she said crisply, stepping back with a final glance that lingered just a moment too long. “See that you don’t disappoint.”
With that, Daphne turned and continued toward the train with Astoria and Tracey in tow. As she walked away, Harry noticed her sister whispering something, and Daphne’s lips twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile. He would’ve very much liked to have kissed those lips again .. bloody war!
The whistle of the train sounded again, this time sharper, signaling the last call for boarding. Steam hissed and curled up into the air, mingling with the falling snow and creating a magical haze that only seemed to amplify the warmth and camaraderie on the platform.
“Come on, you two, or we’ll be stuck here till New Year,” Harry said, his green eyes bright with amusement as he gestured toward the nearest compartment.
Ron heaved a sigh, casting a longing glance at a group of students who were snacking on Chocolate Frogs just a few feet away. “All right, all right” he said as they clambered onto the train.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, laughing despite herself.
As the train lurched forward with a gentle jolt, the trio settled into a cozy compartment, the landscape outside the window beginning to blur into a snowy expanse. The warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, and Harry let himself sink into his seat, grateful for the brief reprieve from the constant busyness of school.
The train rolled on through the Scottish countryside, the snow-dusted hills giving way to thick, dark forests. Harry watched the scenery pass for a while, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels a steady background hum. The soft light of mid-morning faded gradually into the dull grey of afternoon as the train wound its way southward, carrying them further from Hogwarts and closer to the familiarity of home.
Despite the cosiness of the compartment, Harry couldn’t shake the weight that settled on his shoulders. With nothing to distract him, his mind drifted to Voldemort and the war. The sheer enormity of what lay ahead pressed down on him. He thought about all the hours he had spent training—dueling with Sirius at Greengrass Manor, pouring over spells and countercurses with Dumbledore, and even deciphering ancient texts and the history of ancient magic under the watchful gaze of Amelia’s painting in the Room of Requirement.
But no matter how much he practiced, no matter how many times he convinced himself he was improving, it never felt like enough. The memory of Voldemort in the graveyard, his power and malice so overwhelming, was burned into Harry’s mind. Could he ever truly face him? Defeat him? The thought seemed impossible, and Harry’s stomach churned at the prospect of failing not just himself, but everyone who was counting on him.
The landscape outside began to change again, the forests giving way to rolling farmland dotted with cottages and the occasional village. Afternoon slipped into evening, and golden light poured into the compartment as the sun dipped low in the sky. Harry glanced at his friends. Ron had dozed off, his magazine open on his chest, while Hermione was still scribbling notes in her ever-present notebook.
Harry felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t spent as much time with them this year as he would have liked. Between his training, the private lessons, and the endless weight of responsibility, it seemed like there was always something keeping him away. But Ron and Hermione never complained. They had been there for him, unwavering, and Harry wasn’t sure he could have managed any of it without their support.
As the light outside faded entirely, the train’s lanterns flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the compartment. The smell of sweets and pastries from the trolley still lingered faintly in the air, though it had long since passed. Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself and allowed his thoughts to shift to the holidays ahead.
Sirius and Remus would be waiting for him at King’s Cross. He imagined Sirius trying—and likely failing—to hang Christmas garlands in Grimmauld Place while Remus looked on with a resigned smile. The thought made Harry’s chest feel lighter, even as a twinge of sadness reminded him how few people he had left to celebrate with. But he was lucky to have them, and for now, that was enough.
The train rattled on, the windows fogging slightly as they approached their destination. The sprawling city of London came into view, its lights twinkling against the dark backdrop of night. The whistle blew sharply, and the familiar sight of King’s Cross Station appeared at last, the platform bustling with parents and younger siblings waiting for their returning students.
“Right,” Ron said groggily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Time to face Mum’s hug of doom.”
Hermione chuckled, packing away her things. “You should be grateful she’s so affectionate.”
Harry smiled faintly, standing to help them gather their trunks and cages. As they stepped onto the platform, Harry’s heart lifted at the sight of Sirius and Remus waiting near the barrier. Sirius waved enthusiastically, his face breaking into a wide grin, while Remus offered a quieter but equally warm smile.
Nearby, the Weasleys were gathered in their usual lively group, Mrs. Weasley pulling Ron into a tight embrace as Ginny waved to Harry.
“See you soon, mate, I’m sure mum will be forcing you over soon,” Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder before joining his family.
Hermione gave Harry a small hug. “Don’t forget to relax a bit over the holidays, all right?”
“I’ll try,” Harry said with a laugh, watching as she joined her parents. “You are still coming over for Boxing Day though, right?”
“Of course,” she smiled.
As Sirius and Remus approached, Harry felt a sense of warmth and belonging wash over him.
“Hello Harry” Sirius spoke fondly, hugging his godson, before holding him at shoulder length and appasing him. “Not bad”
“You saw me only a couple of weeks ago,” he replied.
“Exactly, anyway come on, we have a surprise for you” his godfather added and Remus smiled.
Sirius draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders as they Apparated to Grimmauld Place, their feet landing with a slight crunch on the cobblestones just outside the house. Harry felt a familiar knot of unease twist in his stomach at the sight of Number Twelve. His memories of the place were dominated by its cold, shadowy hallways and the oppressive gloom that seemed to cling to every surface. He half-expected the sight of the old, peeling door and grimy windows.
Instead, he blinked in surprise. The blackened façade was freshly cleaned, and the oak front door gleamed warmly in the faint glow of the streetlamp. Its brass doorknob caught the light, polished to a brilliant sheen.
“Welcome home,” Sirius said softly, his voice holding an edge of nervous pride. He pushed the door open, motioning Harry to step inside first.
The moment Harry crossed the threshold, he stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Gone were the suffocating drapes and grim shadows. The entrance hall now shone with a lightness he had never imagined could exist here. Polished cream walls reflected the soft glow of a chandelier that sparkled above them, filling the space with a warm, golden light. The dark, threadbare carpets had been stripped away, revealing pale oak floors that stretched invitingly down the hallway. Even the once-daunting staircase had been transformed, its previously sinister dark wood now gleaming in white paint with a smooth, natural banister that looked almost inviting to touch.
“It’s… different,” Harry managed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took it all in.
Sirius grinned. “Good difference, I hope. Come on, there’s more.”
Harry’s trainers made soft sounds against the polished floors as he followed Sirius into the living room. He barely recognised the space. Where once there had been heavy curtains and oppressive wallpaper, now pale cream walls stretched wide, the light from the newly enlarged windows streaming in to dance across the oak floors. A thick cream rug softened the space, and rows of white painted bookshelves lined one wall. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest hint of lemon.
Sirius led him on, his voice animated as he pointed out the changes. “I wanted this to feel more like… well, a home. Not just for me, but for you too, Harry.”
Harry swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Home. The word felt foreign to him, almost too big to comprehend. For as long as he could remember, home had been synonymous with survival, not comfort. Privet Drive was a house, not a haven. Hogwarts had always been the closest thing to a home he’d ever known, but even there, it had never been quite his own. Now, here was Sirius, looking at him with such hope and expectation, offering him a place that felt like it was made just for him.
They moved through the house, and with every room, Harry’s awe deepened. The bathrooms, with their gleaming fixtures and clawfoot tubs, felt like something out of a magazine. The bedrooms upstairs were bathed in soft, natural light, the airy curtains fluttering slightly in the winter breeze. Harry ran a hand along the pale oak bannister as they descended back down to the ground floor, the warmth of the wood grounding him.
“Wait until you see the kitchen,” Sirius said, a twinkle in his eye as he opened the door to the last room.
The kitchen was unrecognisable. The once dreary, cramped space had been replaced with a room so bright and inviting that Harry barely managed to step inside before stopping again to take it all in. Cream cabinetry lined the walls, their clean shaker-style panels perfectly complemented by the solid oak countertops. A large farmhouse sink sat beneath a Georgian-barred window that framed a view of the small garden outside, now alive with the winter sun. The central island was topped with polished oak, surrounded by high-backed stools, and Harry could imagine sitting there, talking to Sirius or Remus over cups of tea.
“Wow,” Harry finally managed. He trailed his hand across the smooth countertop. “This doesn’t even feel like the same house.”
Sirius’s grin widened. “That’s the point. I’ve spent so long being trapped by the past—my family’s expectations, this house’s darkness. It was time to make something better. And you, Harry,” he added, his voice softening, “deserve a place where you can feel at peace. Somewhere that’s truly yours.”
Harry’s throat tightened. He felt the overwhelming urge to say something, anything, to express the strange swirl of emotions inside him. But all he could manage was a quiet, heartfelt, “Thank you.”
Sirius stepped closer, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. And I mean it, Harry. This is your home now too. We’ll fill it with good memories, together.”
“Welcome home, Harry,” Remus added with a soft smile.
“And don’t forget, Remus deserves just as much credit. Couldn’t have done it without him,” Sirius said.
“Thanks,” Harry nodded, his voice steady with gratitude.
“We noticed,” Remus chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Takeaway to celebrate?” Sirius suggested, breaking the moment’s solemnity.
“What about my diet?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I hardly think one takeaway will upset anything,” Sirius replied breezily. “Besides, it’s nearly Christmas. A little indulgence and rest are practically required.”
“As long as it’s not that Chinese place you picked last time…” Remus interjected, pulling a face. “I wasn’t exactly at my best after that.”
“Terrible business, that,” Sirius agreed with mock solemnity. “He couldn’t get off the toilet for three days.”
“Ugh, could’ve left that detail out” Harry groaned, earning laughter from the older men.
…
Daphne gently dropped her bag on her bed and proceeded to take out her ruby and emerald-studded earrings, which everyone in school thought represented holly leaves. In truth, they were a subtle nod to her and Harry’s… relationship? Rubies for his house, emeralds for his eyes. It was a secret that gave her a quiet sense of defiance against the silly house politics and the darker undercurrents of the brewing war.
The room was just as she’d left it: cozy and bathed in soft, golden light. Thick velvet curtains framed the frost-covered windows, while a garland of enchanted snowflakes shimmered gently above her headboard, courtesy of her mother’s love for festive charm. The scent of freshly baked mince pies drifted up from the kitchens, wrapping her in a warm sense of belonging.
She ran her fingers over the plush quilt on her bed, savoring the moment of stillness after a long term filled with challenges and quiet victories. Her thoughts inevitably wandered to Harry—the smile he’d given her before she walked further down the platform to join her friends on the train. Being separated from him at first seemed not to cause her curse to react, but seeing him leave Kings Cross with his godfather and Mr Lupin had caused the pull that her mother had told her about to start.
At first, it was subtle—a faint prickling under her skin, like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch. She knew it would have been far worse if Harry had rejected her or kept himself emotionally distant, but even now, being apart from him left her restless. That persistent “itch” was manageable, though, softened by memories of their stolen kisses in empty classrooms—moments of warmth that she clung to in his absence. But since Harry had reciprocated her feelings and the curse had been… satisfied, the floodgates had opened. All the emotions and desires the curse had once suppressed hit her like a thousand stunners, leaving her breathless and unmoored.
So this is what all the fuss was about? She thought it explained why some of her classmates tended to act like morons around the opposite sex.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her reverie.
“Come in,” she called, slipping the earrings into her jewelry box and turning toward the door.
Her mother stepped in, carrying a tray of steaming tea and biscuits, her elegant features softened with affection. “You looked lost in thought when we got home,” she said warmly, setting the tray on Daphne’s desk. “I thought you might need a bit of fortification before the family dinner.”
Daphne smiled, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Thank you, Mum. I was just… thinking about this term.”
Her mother arched a delicate brow as she poured a cup of tea. “Ah, I see. Your classes coming along well?” she asked knowingly, her tone light but perceptive.
“As well as can be. It’s odd to have someone other than Professor Snape teaching us Potions, and his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes are… different from previous years.” Daphne accepted a cup from her mother and began pouring her tea.
“Well, you’ve had six teachers in as many years. It’s a wonder any of you learn anything,” Elizabeth replied dryly, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
Daphne let out a small laugh. “True, but I think this one might actually stick around. Professor Slughorn has a flair for… connections. He’s been hosting these little gatherings for certain students. I think he wants to collect us like trophies.”
“Gatherings? And have you been invited to these little soirées?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes, a few times,” Daphne admitted. “They’re not so bad, actually. He doesn’t seem to care much about house loyalties—just talent, really. He spent most of the last one reminiscing about many of his famous ex students”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating. I suppose it’s good practice for navigating certain circles.”
Daphne nodded, appreciating her mother’s tact. “Of course. Though honestly, Ancient Runes has been keeping me far busier than anything Slughorn might plan. Harry and I finally cracked one of the encryption sequences in the project.”
“Did you now?” Elizabeth leaned forward, her interest genuine. “And what was the breakthrough?”
“It was a layering system,” Daphne explained. “The runes weren’t meant to be read linearly—they were stacked in sequences, like a kind of code. Harry noticed it first, actually, and we worked together to decode it. Once we understood the structure, everything else started to fall into place.”
Elizabeth smiled, her pride clear. “That’s impressive work. It’s not often a school project requires such critical thinking. Do you think the two of you will finish it by the end of the school year?”
“We’re close,” Daphne said, sipping her tea. “I think we’ve almost solved the major issue with the runes holding firm with the fabrics but now we need to upscale it and testing against different spells.”
Elizabeth smiled, clearly impressed. “It sounds like the two of you make a strong team.”
“We do,” Daphne said with a nod, her voice softening slightly. “He’s… easy to work with. We’ve gotten to know each other well over the term.”
Her mother’s perceptive gaze lingered on her for a moment before she spoke. “And the curse, and Harry? Does he know?”
Daphne hesitated, though only for a second. “It’s… fine,” she said carefully. “He knows about it, of course. I told him everything when we went to Hogsmeade. He didn’t run away or treat me like some kind of burden.” She smiled faintly, staring down into her tea. “He accepted it, Mum. And since then, we’ve just… grown closer. I feel like I can be myself with him.”
Elizabeth reached out, placing a hand over Daphne’s relief evident in her face. “That’s good to hear, darling. It takes a strong person to accept something like this, and an even stronger one to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.”
Daphne nodded, her cheeks coloring faintly. “He’s… been wonderful about it. Supportive. I think he understands better than anyone what it’s like to have something out of your control shape your life.”
“Wise beyond his years,” Elizabeth said, her voice tinged with approval. “And how are you managing? The curse, I mean. Are you feeling any… side effects?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Daphne said honestly. “The worst of it is gone, now that it’s been satisfied. It’s more like… background noise now. Still there, but manageable.”
Elizabeth studied her for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Well I have been there, so tell me if it gets worse, I went through this remember so don't be afraid to talk.
“Are you both coming down for dinner?” her father’s voice called out from downstairs.
…
Downstairs, Thomas Greengrass stood in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up and his wand resting on the counter beside him. A faint smell of rosemary and roasted chicken hung in the air as one of the house-elves adjusted the flame beneath a simmering saucepan with a practiced flick of its long, thin fingers.
“Master Greengrass, shall I set the table now?” the elf asked, its voice low and deferential.
Thomas nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the parchment in his hands. The ornate seal of Hogwarts lay broken on the counter, alongside a half-empty glass of wine. The letter itself bore Dumbledore’s unmistakable handwriting, its tone as cryptic as ever.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass,
I hope this letter finds you both well. It is always a pleasure to observe the remarkable potential and dedication of your daughters here at Hogwarts. Daphne continues to demonstrate her sharp intellect and keen ambition, while Astoria’s creativity and kindness have not gone unnoticed by her professors. You have every reason to be proud of them both.
I write to you today regarding the matter we discussed previously. Recently, some information has come across my desk that I believe may pertain to the nature of your family’s curse. While I must admit that the details remain somewhat incomplete, I suspect they warrant further investigation. It is, as you know, a delicate subject, but one that could hold significant implications.
If it is convenient, I would appreciate the opportunity to meet with both of you at a time of your choosing. This would allow us to discuss these developments in greater depth and explore potential next steps.
Please do not hesitate to let me know what time might suit you best. I remain at your disposal and am hopeful that this new information will prove of value.
With warm regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
He folded the letter carefully, his jaw tightening. For months, he’d assumed the worst of the family curse was already known—that it was merely a waiting game, a cruel inevitability. But Dumbledore’s words suggested otherwise. What new thread had the old wizard uncovered? And how much would it unravel if pulled?
The elf cleared its throat timidly, pulling Thomas from his thoughts. “Shall I serve, sir?”
“Yes Please,” he replied, forcing his mind back to the present. “Make sure the girls’ places are ready. I’ll join them shortly.”
As the elf disappeared into the dining room, Thomas reached for his wine glass, letting the warmth of the drink settle him. Whatever news awaited, it would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, at least, he owed his daughters a semblance of normalcy, it was Christmas after all. Though a small blossom of hope began to form in his chest, would there might be hope to end the curse that lay on his wife and daughters?
…
The dim light of the chamber flickered as Nagini slithered into Voldemort’s presence, her scales glinting faintly in the glow of the enchanted torches. Her massive form coiled gracefully near his throne-like seat, her forked tongue flicking in and out as she tasted the stale, damp air.
Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed as he regarded her. “Nagini,” he hissed in Parseltongue, his voice cold and commanding. “What news do you bring me?”
The serpent raised her head, her unblinking gaze meeting his. “The soul piece you sent me to seek… I can feel it. It is close to Hogwarts, but I cannot tell where exactly, ” she replied, her hissing voice soft yet deliberate.
Voldemort’s expression darkened, and his pale, snake-like features twisted in frustration. “Close to Hogwarts?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “How could it have been so near, and yet I did not sense it when I was there, when I inhabited that pathetic fool Quirrell?”
Nagini coiled tighter, sensing the simmering rage in her master’s voice. “The connection is faint, hidden. Perhaps it has grown weaker over time.”
“No,” Voldemort snapped, rising to his feet. “My soul cannot grow weaker. It is eternal, unbreakable! If it was near Hogwarts, then it must be bound to something within the castle—an object. Something ancient, something powerful.”
He began pacing, his long robes trailing behind him like a shadow. “The founders…” he muttered, half to himself. “I sought their artifacts, relics worthy of my greatness. Could it be that my soul was drawn to such a thing? A fragment of my power would recognize the strength of its vessel.”
Nagini tilted her head, her tongue flicking once more. “Send the boy to find it my lord”
Voldemort stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping back to her. “The malfoy brat would fail, no this task is too important” eyes gleamed with malevolent intent. “But if my soul is bound to an artifact within Hogwarts, it is only a matter of time before it reveals itself.”
Nagini remained silent, watching him with an unblinking gaze.
Voldemort’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Severus will find it”
He turned back to Nagini, his voice softening but no less venomous. “Bring him to me. The sooner I am whole, the sooner I will achieve what is rightfully mine.”
Nagini bowed her head obediently. “ As you wish, master. ” She slithered away, her movements silent as shadows, leaving Voldemort alone with his dark thoughts.
……
To my readers, the next chapter will be christmas and a chance to see Harry relax with his friends (Maybe Daphne) and a good chance to see his power verse before he left for Hogwarts. Some development on the origins of Daphne’s family curse.
We are finally caught up now, on with the new chapters which i hope brings in the engagement again!