FicWad

Author’s Note: Hello! Once again, another chapter is hot off the editing block and back from my excellent beta RAfan2421. As always, you guys are amazing – thank you so much for reading, and your reviews and ratings! I cherish every single one of them and I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own. This story is massively based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including – but not limited to – Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.



Duality: Steganography and Duplicity

OoO

“Horcruxes? Tom Riddle was asking Slughorn about horcruxes?” Hermione questioned, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Horcruxes… I don’t think I’ve heard of that term… horcruxes…”

Harry’s brow arched. “Did you not hear the bit about how I have to manipulate the real memory out of Slughorn?” he asked, even though he was appreciative of her intellectual inquisitiveness.

Dumbledore didn’t offer any information on horcruxes, so it was no surprise that Hermione didn’t know about them. It was possible that the Headmaster didn’t know about horcruxes either, which could have been why he needed the memory, but that was highly unlikely. The more likely scenario was that Dumbledore was keeping that information to himself, like he usually did. Harry was beginning to see the point of Daphne’s regurgitated words from Aberforth Dumbledore: ‘He always has his own personal agenda.’

Regardless, horcruxes must have been extremely obscure magic – and dark magic at that since Slughorn was trying to cover up the fact that he knew about them. Likely illegal and very likely immoral. Slughorn was all about his image.

“I heard that, yes, but–” Hermione paused, sighing, “–shouldn’t we try to figure out what horcruxes are before getting that memory from him? It might help you with getting that information if you knew what they were…”

“Maybe,” Harry replied, reaching into his pocket for his red leather case and going through Sortilege Manual protocols in his head. Nott and Daphne’s lessons trickled in along with it. “Unfortunately, it’s not like I can bring him in for some revision, if you get what I mean.”

Plucking a fag from the confines of his cigarette case, he lit it with Daphne’s gold lighter, inhaling deep.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be the most intelligent plan,” Hermione agreed, her mind obviously elsewhere. “Horcruxes…” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “I need to go to the library. Perhaps you should ask Nott for some help?”

Harry stared up at Hermione as she stood from the alcove they were sitting in. “I don’t know if Nott would be helpful with this since Slughorn doesn’t like him that much – and I’m not even sure if I want to tell Nott – I mean, maybe. I know I can use asset cultivation tactics on Slughorn, but…” He shrugged. “It would take some time. And I dunno how effective it would be.”

“Might be a good idea to start attending more Slug Club meetings and stop scheduling your Quidditch practices for when they occur then,” Hermione suggested, shifting her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you in Potions later.”

Harry nodded, exhaling a breath full of smoke as Hermione disappeared down the corridor. A few moments after, he got up, stretching his legs and walking off to go find Daphne. This was the first study period where he wasn’t buried under piles of new coursework – or in need of emergency Occlumency lessons – and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to talk to her. Besides, he needed to return the lighter she’d borrowed him.

OoO

Using the Marauder’s Map, he located her in the Slytherin Common Room and stalked down the stairs toward the dungeons, pulling out his invisibility cloak. His idea was that he’d wait until someone came by and whispered the password to the entrance, but he’d only passed one person on his way down there, which didn’t give him much hope on that plan. Regrettably, most of the students were in classes at this time so he had to think up a different – bolder – plan.

From under the cloak, Harry lifted his hand and knocked on the darkened wall, waiting for an answer. He pounded a bit harder a minute later, increasing the knocking until he heard scuffling on the other side.

“Keep your bloody trousers on!” the girl yelled from inside. The bricks in the folded aside and a sneering seventh year appeared in the opening, looking around the corridor. “Peeves, if this is another joke, I’m gonna get the Bloody Baron, you stupid poltergeist! Oi! Where in ruddy hell are you?!”

Flattening himself aside the wall, Harry surreptitiously entered the Slytherin Common Room, not daring to breathe as he passed the irritated seventh year girl. The entrance wall closed behind him and he quickly side-stepped, nearly knocking into a column, in order to avoid having the girl run into him.

“Peeves again?” he heard Daphne idly comment from the sofa in the middle of the common room. A cigarette was dangling from her fingertips as she stared at the enormous tome in her lap while taking notes with her other hand.

“If he does that one more time…” the witch who had answered the knock grumbled, stalking over to one of the study tables near the enchanted windows.

The Slytherin Common Room was mostly filled with sixth and seventh years, some he recognized and some that he didn’t. A younger-looking fourth year boy was there, lounging on one of the arm chairs with a bandaged leg propped up on a cushion.

“I’ve heard that there are entrapment spells that you can use on poltergeists,” the boy said, joining the conversation. “My mum works in the Department of Magical Creatures. That’s what they use to transport them in cases of malicious hauntings.”

While a small group of Slytherins plotted getting their revenge on Peeves, Harry snuck up behind Daphne and poked her in the shoulder, which made her shift and look around, slowly maneuvering her wand.

“Daphne,” he whispered, moving close enough so only she could hear him.

She turned her head toward his voice. “Harry?” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d return your lighter,” he quietly replied, “and we need to talk.”

Shoving her wand back up her sleeve, she inconspicuously asked, “About what?”

“Well… everything, basically. I heard about Narcissa.”

Letting out a sigh, Daphne closed her book on a piece of parchment that seemed to be covered in numbers, not notes, which Harry had only glanced at for a second. “Go to the sixth year boys’ dormitory. I’ll be along in a second.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, and took off up the stairs to the left. Since the staircase didn’t collapse under him, he knew he remembered it right, and he got to searching which door to go through. It seemed as if the dormitories were laid out similarly to the Gryffindor ones, which was a relief.

Twisting the handle on the doorknob, he entered the sixth year boys’ dormitory, only to pause and stare bafflingly at the contents of the room.

“What the hell…?”

There were… squirrels.

Everywhere.

There had to be at least a dozen of them.

And not just normal squirrels – no – these squirrels had to have been enchanted somehow. They were flying about the room, chattering and stashing things in the wall niches and whipping their propeller-esque tails about. A few of them clung to the ceiling, along the top of the bed canopies, and skittered along the walls.

If this didn’t solidify that Slytherins were barmy, he didn’t know what did.

He felt the door open wider behind him and Daphne plowed into his back, causing him to sprawl face-first onto the floor with Daphne on top of him. “Ow,” he hissed, shifting the invisibility cloak off and moving away from her.

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be standing right in front of the bloody door,” Daphne said, wincing and rubbing at her shoulder.

“What’s with the squirrels?” he whispered, not really knowing why they were whispering since they seemed to be very alone up in the dormitory area.

Daphne pushed the door shut with her foot and sat back against it, warding it with a quick spell.

“Theo likes… experiments,” she explained, glancing up at the little creatures flying about. “I think this one’s for a potion he’s trying to invent to enable flight, but who knows with him… The potion that he fed to a bunch of gerbils a couple months ago was some sort of intelligence-enhancing potion, but it just made the gerbils schizophrenic. Flight could be a side effect of whatever he’s trying to do.”

Gerbils? Harry’s brows furrowed. “Are those the same gerbils that–”

Almost every first year in Gryffindor had one and the irritating creatures tripped people up in the common room when the first years got them out and played with them all at once.

Daphne smirked. “Likely. I gave the schizo things away a couple months ago. They got on Theo’s nerves.”

“Right...” Harry took a seat next to her, folding his invisibility cloak and sticking it in his pocket when a squirrel tried to pluck it away from him. He shooed the creature away with the back of his hand. “You lot are mental.”

“Nah, that’s just Theo.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Gets detention for it every year; as if that’ll stop him.” She sighed, pulling out her cigarette case while she dug further into her pockets. Her hand emerged holding a tarnished lighter with a golden eagle crest and an oval malachite background on the front, which Harry speculatively stared at.

“So what did you want to talk about?” she asked, lighting up and causing him to glance back at her.

“Er – right – how was your holiday?” Harry questioned, taking a cigarette when she offered him her case. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk in the last week. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Daphne blew out a short breath full of smoke. “It was fine. Got a lot of things done. You’re probably wondering about Narcissa, yeah?”

Harry nodded, using Daphne’s gold lighter to light his fag. “Yeah. How’d that go?”

“Couldn’t have been more perfect. I told her that her son was kidnapped by the Order of the Phoenix and was being housed in a very safe place – and that she’ll get to see him in a couple weeks when we can safely transport her to where we we’re keeping him.” Daphne’s lips quirked. “I had to show proof of life but, after that, she was more than accommodating to come with us. It’s possible that the Compulsion Philtre I sprayed at her when she wasn’t looking helped it along, but she’ll stay put.”

“You’re absolutely sure about that?” Harry asked prudently. “I mean, if Narcissa runs off to Voldemort with information about the Order having Draco Malfoy, everything could be... completely ruined.”

Daphne gazed at him sharply. “I’m certain. I was with her for two days; we got on decently and I had her very convinced. She seemed… happy to be away from her husband and the Dark Lord – happy enough to go along with pretending to be a Muggle for the time being if that meant she got to see her son and stay safe. My guess is that she wasn’t in the best situation.”

She paused, taking a drag off her cigarette. “And, as a backup, I infused all the tea in the flat with more Compulsion Philtre so she’ll stay regardless. You don’t have to worry about her. She was fine with or without it.”

“I don’t know…” Harry hesitantly responded, still slightly wary and fiddling with Daphne’s gold lighter in his hand. Flicking the ashes off his fag, he took in a long calming breath full of smoke that settled his entire being. It always helped with the nerves and worries.

“It’ll be fine Harry,” Daphne assured. “I promise.” She then paused, her eyes trailing over him. “So, I heard from Blaise that you had him teach you Occlumency yesterday.”

“Well, I had to lie to Dumbledore about our... activities. Zabini was the only option at the time.” Harry shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the topic – why did lying to Dumbledore feel like an accomplishment?

Maybe because it was an accomplishment, the pleased portion of his mind told him. He doesn’t suspect a thing.

“What else did you do on your holiday?” he asked quickly, changing the subject and pushing the topic of lying to Dumbledore away from his mind.

Daphne tugged at a messy lock of his hair, a small smile playing about her lips. “You just can’t resist knowing, can you?”

“Nope. And I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer,” he said, mirroring her smile and lightly batting her hand off.

“I already told you what I was going to do. Johnson had a thing for us in Vladivostok and I repaid Croaker. That’s not ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But it’s not very descriptive.”

Daphne’s smile widened for a moment and then faded into seriousness as she exhaled a wispy puff of smoke, shaking her head. “I can’t be very descriptive, Harry. Some things are not only mine to tell.”

She pursed her lips, shrewdly regarding him. “Johnson and Croaker wouldn’t appreciate it if I went around blabbing about those things. And, while I know you wouldn’t tell anyone… I’m just trying to be a trustworthy person to them. I’m sorry.”

A touch of guilt for all of his prying over the weeks tugged at his chest and Harry nodded in understanding. He knew the way it felt withholding things from Ron and how Ron’s prying had got to him at the Burrow… he knew wasn’t making anything easier for her. She did seem to tell him the important things, at least.

“Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry too – for being nosy… I just can’t help it.” He pushed away the guilt, his lips twisting into a crooked smile. “I’m not used to being this close to a person who has so many secrets that I can’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Daphne replied, bluish smoke trickling out of her lips. “I’ve definitely dealt with worse. Blaise sent one of his house elves to spy on me last year when I wouldn’t tell him, which was a nightmare. Thank Merlin the little bugger had a Butterbeer addiction or else I might not have caught him…”

If there was anyone who understood what it was like to be followed by a pesky house elf, it was him. Amid that thought, his eyes widened.

“That might not be a bad idea actually,” Harry breathed, an idea ripping through his mind like a bolt of lightning.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to send Dobby after me,” Daphne drawled with a sardonic glare.

“No – not you.” A smile split across Harry’s face. “Cornfoot! Dobby’d make a decent spy, I’d reckon. And I’m pretty sure he’d do it too.”

Daphne’s lips parted and she stared at him with a slightly horrified expression. “Jesus, why didn’t I think of that before?” She nodded absentmindedly. “Dobby would be perfect. House elves can make themselves completely invisible. That’s far more than what Sylvia Montague can do – she has been rather helpful though.”

“Really?” Harry leaned toward her interestedly. “How so?”

“She searched Cornfoot’s possessions for us – found a few items that he’s likely using. There’s the usual Polyjuice, so I’m guessing he’s using similar tactics that Draco used with Vince and Greg. I told her to leave it. But, also, he has a whacking load of books on Thaumaturgy, which is quite brilliant, but he is a Ravenclaw.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Thaumaturgy?”

“It’s a branch of magic that covers illusions and hallucinogenic bewitching,” Daphne explained with a backward wave of her hand. “If he uses Thaumaturgic wards around the Room of Requirement, he wouldn’t need his friends to Polyjuice into first years and drop toad spawn to warn him. The ward would produce a distracting illusion for anyone that would come close. And, if he got caught doing something unsavoury, I imagine that Thaumaturgy could be useful for that as well. He could bewitch someone into thinking they didn’t catch him doing anything – the victim of a Thamaturgic spell usually has a hard time distinguishing between imagined events and reality to the point where reality seems more farfetched than the imagined event.”

“But if he knows that, then why does he need the Polyjuice?” Harry questioned, spotting holes in her logic.

“I dunno. Maybe he hasn’t mastered Thaumaturgy yet?” Daphne shrugged, taking a drag off her cigarette. “It’s very difficult magic. And the Polyjuice could be for something else… such as sending people in his place during mealtimes. Thaumaturgy wouldn’t help with that.”

It made sense – he’d have to go back to checking his map at meal times.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek contemplatively and exhaled a breath full of smoke. “Has Montague mentioned who might be… helping him with this? Who he’d get to cover for him?”

“There are a few suspects,” Daphne responded. “Dahlia Runcorn is the obvious one; I also think that the Carrow twins may be helping him – they’ve been behaving suspiciously over the past week. I’ve searched the Carrow’s dorm, but I didn’t find anything. Runcorn is in Hufflepuff so… I can’t get in there. I’m still working on a plan for that.”

Harry nodded and then paused, flipping open Daphne’s gold lighter and closing it. “I can though,” he said, gesturing to the edge of his invisibility cloak hanging out of his pocket. “Got in here easily enough. And I might be able to get Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott to help.”

Daphne’s brows rose. “Excellent. Do you need any bribing money or blackmail?”

“No,” Harry said with an amused snort, shaking his head. “Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were members of the D.A. They’ll help me, I’m sure of it.”

“Good,” she responded, breathing an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. “Those two wouldn’t be easy to get blackmail on. They have ridiculously clean slates.”

“Oi,” Harry chastised playfully. “They’re my friends – sort of.”

Daphne gave an innocent shrug. “It’s good to have blackmail material, even on your ‘sort-of’ friends.”

“Not all of us are Slytherins, Daph,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “We trust each other a bit more.”

“That could lead to a knife in your back someday, y’know,” she casually muttered around her cigarette, reminding him of the Order meeting at the Burrow.

A huff of a laugh passed through Harry’s lips. “You sound exactly like Mad-Eye Moody.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Daphne commented, her cheek scrunched up in consideration. “I think?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, shrugging. “Er – speaking of Mad-Eye though, I need to know how to get ahold of Croaker.”

The centre of Daphne’s forehead creased and she flicked the ashes off her fag. “Why?”

“Three of the moles on our list work in the Department of Mysteries and I believe he might be able to help…” he answered. “The Order doesn’t have anyone in there and, since you got ahold of him for the Sortilege Manual, I thought you might–”

“Yeah, I know how to contact him. He probably wouldn’t mind the great Harry Potter knowing,” Daphne cut in before he could finish his sentence, a grin crossing over her face. She then lowered her voice, despite the wards on the door, “You have to owl a numerological coded note – using the lateral shift sequence and the flexion method for concealing – then you’ll have to send it to Johnson, Johnson will send it to Croaker’s liaison, and they’ll take care of it.”

“The… what? Hold on.” Harry’s brows furrowed and he glanced around the room. “Do you have a piece of parchment so I can write that down? Hermione… will be better at that than me.”

With a flick of her wand, Daphne vanished her mostly-smoked cigarette and crawled forward, reaching into the trunk at the end of the closest four-poster bed. “I could write the note for you. I’ve gotten pretty decent at it…” she muttered, pulling out parchment, ink, and a quill, which a greedy squirrel tried to grab from her. She sent a Stinging Hex toward the little flying menace. “Bastarding things.”

Dithering a tiny bit, Harry replied, “I’m still not sure what I’d say to him – Hermione can most likely do it. She’s at the top of her class in Arithmancy.”

“I s’pose...” Daphne quickly wrote out the process of contacting Croaker and handed it to him. “Burn that once you’re done with it.”

“Maybe you’re more paranoid than Moody.”

“Croaker’s worse,” Daphne stated very seriously. “He’d flay everyone alive if the method of contacting him got into the wrong hands. Not that there’s anything incriminating on that… but it’s better to be safe.”

“Okay, I’ll burn it – don’t worry,” Harry ensured, folding the piece of parchment and stuffing it deep into his cloak pocket. He then noticed the lighter he was inattentively fiddling with in his hand and he slid it over to her. “Oh, and here’s this back. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

A smirk tugged at Daphne’s lips and she shook her head, sliding it back to him with her foot. “Keep it. It suits you more than me,” she said, grasping the tarnished silver lighter that he was staring at earlier. “I kind of like this one better.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, pocketing the gold lighter. He nodded toward the silver one. “Where’d you get that anyway? It looks… old.”

“I won it in a bet in Vladivostok,” Daphne said with a shrug.

Vanishing his cigarette with a wave of his wand, Harry gazed at her curiously. “What sort of bet?”

“A classic trick,” she intoned, vaguely smug. “Want me to teach you it?

“It’s not anything dangerous, is it?” Harry apprehensively asked, raising his brows.

Daphne shook her head. “No. Not at all. It’s deceptively simple – Accio Hat.”

One of Zabini’s dark rabbit fur hats flew out from underneath his bed and landed in Daphne’s lap. She set it on the floor between them and shoved her newly acquired lighter underneath it, looking back up at him. “Hats are optimal for this, but you can use other things – teacups, bowls, anything you can hide something under.”

“Alright.” Harry nodded, waiting for the next move to the trick. “Now what?”

“I bet you that I can get that lighter out from under there,” Daphne said, smirking, “without touching the hat.”

His eyes narrowed toward her. “You’re a witch. Of course you can.”

“No,” Daphne self-assuredly retorted, making a show of setting her wand aside, “I won’t be needing this.”

Raising a skeptical brow, Harry watched her vigilantly; she’d have to do something wandless if she wanted to get that lighter, but wandless magic was impossible for most people to do, which made him doubtful that she could do it. Circling her hands in the air above the hat, Daphne closed her eyes and swayed, like she was performing some sort of voodoo. Harry’s expression grew more skeptical by the second.

When she opened her eyes, she nodded at him. “There we are.”

Harry’s lips pursed and he scrutinized her hands. “Where’s the lighter then?”

“I said I could get it out from under there without touching the hat. I didn’t say where it would end up after,” she replied with a shrug.

Rolling his eyes, Harry lifted up the hat to check and see if it was still there and Daphne’s arm flew forward, snatching the lighter up.

“Didn’t have to touch the hat, did I?” she said triumphantly when he glanced up at her.

A short breathy laugh passed through Harry’s nose and he shook his head. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. My grandfather taught me that trick when I was little – I fell for it too,” Daphne said with a smile, tossing the hat onto one of the beds and sending a barrage of stinging hexes toward a group of squirrels when they tried to grab it.

“Your grandfather sounds like an… interesting person,” Harry commented, his stomach warming as he stared at her. Daphne always seemed the least guarded when she spoke of her grandfather, even if she was only mentioning him. The way she smiled…

“He’s my favourite person,” she corrected, toying with the flintlock-esque top of her lighter, igniting it and snuffing it out. “He’s the reason I wanted this in the first place. He has one just like it – won’t tell me where he got it, of course, but–” her smile softened, “–maybe he will now, since I’ve got one too. You know, the ‘you tell me yours if I tell you mine’ type of deal.”

“Ah,” Harry said with a knowing nod, “that’s where you get your Slytherin deviousness from.”

Daphne’s lips quirked. “Not just him. Most of my family would fit into this house better than some of the stupid Purebloods who are sitting out in the common room right now – and they’re Muggles. The only thing they lack is magic.”

“That’s got to be a popular opinion around here,” Harry sardonically intoned.

“You’d be surprised,” she casually replied. “Muggle Studies is the favourite class of many a Slytherin.”

“Really?” he asked, clearly feigning disbelief.

“Oh, yes. Why, just the other day I was showing Millicent how a toaster worked. She found it fascinating.”

“You should mention television to her,” Harry suggested.

Daphne nodded. “Pretty sure she’d cross over after that – full blood traitor status.”

“Yeah, and I’m having an affair with McGonagall,” he said in the same insouciant and sarcastic tone she used the entire time.

“She’s dishy; I wouldn’t blame you,” Daphne said, her eyes gleaming wickedly. “Does she let you call her Minnie between the sheets?”

“Ugh, okay, that’s too far,” Harry replied with a wince, letting out a snort of laughter that had been building ever since she mentioned Millicent Bulstrode and a toaster.

Daphne’s smirk turned into a softer grin and she moved closer to him, the sides of their legs and hips pressing against each other. “It’s your own fault. You mentioned the affair in the first place.”

“I should have said Trelawney,” Harry grumbled a bit, which caused Daphne to let out a huff of laughter.

“The madder the witch, the wilder the itch – is that true?”

“Alright,” Harry said with a short breathy laugh. “Not Trelawney then.”

Threading her fingers through his hair in a way that was almost affectionate, Daphne muttered, “You’re far more fun when you’re not trying to press me for information.”

“Well, I am an interrogator, you know,” Harry mischievously retorted.

“I’m aware of that,” she said quietly, kissing him on the corner of the mouth.

Just as he leant down to kiss her more properly, the door behind them rattled and muffled shouting filtered in through the ward, “Theo, you complete bastard, let me in!”

With a sigh, Daphne picked up her wand and lighter and moved away from the door while Harry slid to the side. “Finite. Apari,” she muttered and the door burst open, revealing a rather entertained Blaise Zabini on the other side as his dark eyes skimmed over both of them.

“Commandeering my dorm for a shag with Potter now, Daph?” Zabini sarcastically remarked. “That’s classy.”

He took a hesitant step into the room with his wand drawn and zapped at least five flying squirrels that flew at his head upon entering and shutting the door. He was a whirl of limbs and hexes as he fought off the second round of squirrels that came in for backup. Harry didn’t make a single move to help him – it was too amusing watching Zabini duel against a bunch of flying rodents.

“You didn’t change your hair potion, did you?” Daphne dryly replied, watching the squirrels flee the area quickly, looking defeated. “You know they’re attracted to the scent.”

“I haven’t found another one I like,” Zabini said, glowering as he stalked over to his trunk. “What are you two doing in here anyway?”

Daphne got to her feet and held her hand out to Harry to help him up, which he took. “Tracey’s in my dormitory with Malcolm; s’not like we could go there,” she said. “I thought you and Theo would be busy tailing Runcorn and her friend.”

“We were – but we’ve Potions in ten minutes and I don’t fancy being late,” Zabini said, grabbing his school bag from his trunk and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, quickly tugging his invisibility cloak out of his pocket. He’d completely lost track of how long he’d been there.

“I’ll get you out of the common room,” Daphne muttered, opening the door as he threw the cloak over his head. She pulled him close and quickly whispered to him on the way down the stairs, “Do you think you could meet me in Hesperivs Hall tonight around curfew?”

“Er – sure. I’ll try,” Harry whispered back, glancing down at his watch distractedly. He’d have to sprint all the way up to Gryffindor Tower for his potions kit and bag if he was going to make it on time.

But, then again, being late could play to his advantage…

OoO

“Did you tell her about the horcruxes?” Hermione asked when he mentioned most of his conversation with Daphne to her in her ‘empty study classroom’ after a disappointing Potions class.

Harry was over five minutes late to it – deliberately – and it didn’t play to his advantage. He was hoping for a detention with the plump Professor in order to get closer to him but, unluckily, Slughorn let him off easy with barely a reprimand.

He had to come up with a different – better – plan for next time.

“No, I only told her that I lied to Dumbledore when she asked about Zabini’s Occlumency lesson yesterday,” Harry replied, taking the folded instructions of how to get ahold of Croaker out of his pocket. “Er – d’you think you can figure out how to code a note using… whatever this is? They’re instructions for contacting Croaker. Daph gave them to me.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she snatched the parchment up, looking over it with fervor. “Wow… that’s… does she know how to do this?”

“She contacted Croaker for the Sortilege Manual, so…” Harry trailed off with a nod. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, the flexion method is extremely advanced – post N.E.W.T. level. And with a shift sequenced numerological code underneath that, with all the folding of numbers, it’s incredibly complex – I’ve never seen it used this way,” she rambled, gesturing wildly with her hands. “I mean, writing it is one thing – once you get done coding the note, all the parchment will have on it is a few numbers that hold it all – so opening it up is even harder. If we write to Croaker and he sends us a reply, it might take weeks for me to decode it properly if this is what he’s using.”

“Wouldn’t it take weeks for him to decode it then?” Harry asked, arching a brow.

Hermione shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Unspeakables are trained in this. It’s a genius coding process; the flexion method is a nightmare to ‘unfold’ – the formulas and sequences are usually woven into trammel wards. It makes the wards fold up to trap intruders inside them like a net and it’s hopeless to get out of them, unless you’re extremely good at Arithmancy…”

“Which you are,” Harry encouraged. “Top of the class and everything. And you’re already studying for the N.E.W.T.s.” Which he found mental, but it was the least he could expect from Hermione – her E on the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. spurred her to start studying six months earlier for the N.E.W.T.s than she did for the O.W.L.s, giving her a year and a half head start before the sane people in their year started studying.

“I know you like to think that I know everything, but it’s not true,” Hermione retorted, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment from her pile. “I’ll be able to write the note though, at least – for now. What shall we say?”

Shrugging, Harry moved to sit next to her. “Erm – how about… ‘Dear Mr. Croaker, we’re very sorry to bother you, but we really need your help if you can spare it.’?”

Hermione wrote out the words on the parchment, nodding. “‘The Order of the Phoenix – a secret group formed to fight You-Know-Who – is looking into His moles in the Department of Mysteries, but we are having a hard time getting into the department for more information on them.’ Would that work?”

“Should we mention the Order to him?” Harry hesitantly asked.

“Bode was an outlier and you said that Daphne told you they were partners. He possibly knows about the Order and he could be on our side...” Hermione trailed off with an indecisive expression.

“Well, if he isn’t, then we’re giving information to the other side that we know about the Department of Mystery moles.”

“But, if he is, he’ll help us.” Hermione paused, chewing thoughtfully at her lip. “He probably is – Greengrass wouldn’t tell you how to contact him if he wasn’t.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose high on his head. “You’re actually trusting Daphne now?”

“Not… exactly,” Hermione said cautiously. “But she doesn’t seem to want to harm you and she is very proudly against prejudice – secretly – but that’s to be expected, given her position. Did you tell her why you wanted to contact Croaker?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “I did.”

His answer caused a relieved grin to press across Hermione’s face. “Then I doubt she’d want to risk that information getting into the wrong hands, if anything. So, I say we tell him.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, watching her write what she proposed earlier. He then added, “‘Any help you could offer on this matter would be greatly appreciated.’ Keep it short and simple.”

“That’s good,” she muttered, writing that line down – she looked up at him after, pausing for a moment. “‘Sincerely, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.’?”

“Why do you get to go first?” Harry asked. “He probably thinks I’m the ‘Chosen One’ – it might persuade him further.”

“But I’m writing it and coding it so I get to go first,” Hermione countered, quickly composing the salutation.

“Fine,” Harry conceded, curiously watching her work. After drawing out a number table beneath the short letter, she grabbed at a different piece of parchment and wrote down lines upon lines of numbers as she stared at the original written letter.

“I’m using this lateral shifted sequence,” Hermione explained when she noticed him staring at her, pointing to the table below their original note, “to translate the letters and words into numbers.”

“Looks… not too hard.”

Eating his words, he completely got lost when she started on another fresh sheet of parchment, writing down a plethora of formulas, sequences of numbers, and symbols that he didn’t recognize. It sorely reminded him of maths.

With a wave of her wand, the formulas, symbols, and number sequences lifted into the air – wispy and glowing like golden smoke – and floated over the parchment that held the coded letter.

“Now for the hard part,” Hermione whispered, focusing and sending each symbol, formula, and number sequence into the letter – one at a time – with a flick of her wand. The wispy writing disappeared into the parchment, shortening the coded letter as every different element was sent into it.

When she was done, she held it out to him with a triumphant sparkle in her eyes. “There we have it. Hedwig will probably be happy to be busy with something after you’ve ignored her for most of the year.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked down at the parchment, which had a three single digit numbers written across the centre. “Nine-Four-Three?”

“The flexion method folds the coded note and makes it smaller, but it’s all still in there – hidden throughout the Arithmancy.” Hermione flicked her wand at the parchment and he was bombarded by wispy gold numbers and sequences flying in front of his face before she put them back into the parchment. “See? Trying to get the code out of that mess is tremendously difficult.”

“No kidding,” Harry muttered, taking the parchment from her and folding it up. “I’ll just get this to Hedwig then.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hermione replied, packing up her bag. “I have to stop by the library and check out Fibonacci’s Objectives and Procedures in Diminution.”

Before she packed the instructions on how to contact Croaker, Harry snatched it up. “Daphne suggested that we… burn this.”

Shrugging, Hermione passed him the original note that they penned to Croaker. “Might as well burn this too then.”

She didn’t even question it, like he expected she would, and he vaguely wondered if this was Zabini’s influence at work. He still needed to talk to the dark Slytherin boy – optimally alone. Perhaps, while he was at the Owlery, he’d send a different letter with Pig…

OoO

His invisibility cloak was put to use for a second time that day as Harry made his way up the stairs around the Clock Tower and toward Hesperivs Hall. As it was a Friday night, he spotted a number of amorous couples secreted away in alcoves and behind statues and tapestries on his trek. The invisibility cloak would be a bloody useful tool for a Prefect – and a horrifying one for the snoggers out after curfew.

Daphne was waiting for him just outside the door to an old abandoned classroom and she pulled him inside it as he revealed himself in front of her.

“Good you came,” she whispered excitedly.

Inside the room, Nott was sitting on one of the desks near a large bag full of broomsticks and he suddenly figured out what he was there for.

“Are we going to… race?” Harry asked immediately, his whole body perking up at the idea. He’d wanted to join her in it ever since she mentioned it months ago in the Quidditch locker room.

“Yes,” Daphne answered, “but we’re also cultivating some assets and we need to fix your appearance.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with what I look like now?” He was wearing his usual casual clothes – some of which were cast offs from Dudley, but Dudley’s old shirts were comfortable.

“You’re Harry Potter, I’m Theo Nott – she’s Daphne Greengrass,” Nott said, gesturing with his hands. “We can’t be seen together doing this.”

“I’m only going to throw a triple layer glamour on you and fix your clothes. And glasses,” Daphne explained, waving her wand over him and plucking the glasses off his face. “I already told the Carrows that I was inviting someone who used to go to Hogwarts but is visiting to interview for an apprentice position under Slughorn. We’ll call you Mr. Voynich.”

His vision cleared with a flick of Daphne’s wand and he blinked. “Erm… Potions apprentice, Voynich – got that. We’re cultivating the Carrow twins by racing with them?”

“Mhm.” A small smirk tugged at Daphne’s lips and she slid his glasses into the pocket of his cloak, waving her wand to change his voice. “I mentioned the idea to them a few days ago and they were interested; I thought it would be a great opportunity.”

Harry shifted on his feet. “But don’t I need to go get my broom?”

“We only use Cleansweep Golds for racing – it evens out the odds and lets us focus on skill rather than equipment,” Nott drawled, gesturing to the load of brooms next to him. “If you have a Cleansweep Gold, be my guest.”

Ambling across the room, Harry grasped one of the broomsticks in his hand, inspecting it – it reminded him of a heavily gilded version of his Nimbus 2000, which made him feel a bit nostalgic. “Not bad. Seems well balanced,” he commented, glancing up at Nott and catching his glamoured reflection in the window behind the Slytherin boy.

Tom Riddle’s face blinked back at him and he sent a slightly dirty look toward Daphne.

“Why do I look like Tom Riddle?” he accusingly asked.

“It’s handsome and we’re dealing with fifteen-year-old girls,” Daphne said, shrugging. “It would be beneficial to our cause if you could charm them and… make nice.”

“While looking like Voldemort,” Harry dryly intoned.

“Well, he apparently doesn’t look like that anymore – why not use it since he isn’t?” Daphne rhetorically questioned. “Waste of a decent face, if you ask me.”

“And if I get caught by Dumbledore or Slughorn, what do I say? They know what he looked like,” Harry argued.

“If you get caught – which I hope you’re a good enough flyer to not – say, ‘Velamen Detraho Celementum Finite.’ It’ll get rid of the glamour,” she answered smartly.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to protest further as there was a knock on the door and Daphne went to answer it, ushering in the Carrow twins along with a dark-haired Hufflepuff Harry didn’t recognize.

“I’m so glad you could come – and you’ve brought Dahlia! It’s nice to finally meet you! The more the merrier – we rarely get a full group for this,” Daphne said pleasantly. “Some people just don’t have the nerve.”

“Then you’ve been asking the wrong people,” Runcorn remarked. “A little detention never hurt anyone.”

“Only if they catch you,” Daphne slyly replied, glancing at Harry and pausing. “But I believe introductions are in order first.” She gestured toward everyone in the room as she acquainted them, “Mr. Voynich, this is Flora and Hestia Carrow and Dahlia Runcorn. And this is Theo Nott, who most of you already know.”

Harry offered his hand and greeted the girls, trying to hide his irritation at his appearance and be friendly.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, feeling vaguely like a piece of meat being paraded in front of them. They looked… possibly as if they were salivating. Runcorn, however, seemed far more interested in Nott, which was sort of a relief.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Voynich,” Flora practically purred, her deep grey eyes salaciously roving over him.

“I heard that you were interviewing for an apprenticeship,” Hestia said after shaking his hand.

Harry nodded, thinking fast. “Yes, I’m very hopeful. Professor Slughorn is a brilliant Potions Master – he’s why I applied.”

“Would you be available for tutoring when you get the apprenticeship?” Flora asked, tilting her head in a flirtatious manner. “Daphne said you were a dab hand at potions and I’ve been struggling to find a good tutor, you see...”

He itched to roll his eyes. Daphne was sadly correct about his glamoured appearance – the shallowness of it all was somewhat disturbing.

“Well, if I get the apprenticeship, I might be able to tutor – we’ll have to see. It’s up to Professor Slughorn,” Harry lied smoothly, keeping a genial expression on his face. “What is it that you’re struggling with in the subject?”

He’d hoped that the question would catch Flora in her lie, but it only made her sister join in on the ‘tutor ruse’ – coming to Flora’s aid with questions of her own. The conversation continued on with the twins jumping for his attention. They asked him question after random question about potions, which he never thought he would have known the answer to before the Half Blood Prince came into his life. He could have kicked himself for asking what she was struggling with, but it seemed to play in his favour, at least.

The entire time the twins prattled on, he kept half an ear on Nott and Daphne’s conversation with Runcorn; they seemed to be chatting about how broom racing around the school had started and why they used Cleansweep Golds. Runcorn was apparently a huge Quidditch fan and knew a lot about brooms.

“So sorry to interrupt your conversation,” Daphne said as she situated herself next to Harry, “but I believe we should start our race soon. Filch has his external rounds and the Prefects have a shift change in three minutes, which make for optimal conditions.”

It didn’t surprise him that they had this worked out down to the minute – Nott and Daphne were the type of people who always thought three steps ahead of others.

Nott handed out the brooms and motioned for them to follow him out the door. “The race for tonight starts at the top of the Clock Tower, on the floor above us. From there, it’s down the tower, across the quad, round the greenhouses, up through the Grand Staircase – through the seventh floor corridors – and we end at the top of the Astronomy Tower. No exceptions – no secret passage ways – no hexing, jinxing, charming, or magical trickery,” he instructed in a straightforward manner.

“Winner gets this set of scrying mirrors – which enable private communication between two users,” Daphne said, pulling a pair of ornate silver hand-held mirrors out of her pocket. “Theo generously donated them as a prize for this race. They’re truly one of a kind.”

Harry had a feeling that those scrying mirrors were tampered with and caught on to the plan Nott and Daphne had concocted. They likely wanted to let one of the girls win so they could spy on them through the mirrors. Merlin, it was good.

As they all ran up the stairs and got in line for the race, Harry discreetly pulled Daphne aside and muttered under his breath, “So which one do you want to let win?”

“Runcorn – stroke of luck that the Carrows brought her,” Daphne replied, barely moving her lips as she spoke. “Stick with the twins and try to distract them if you get the opportunity.”

“Oi! No exchanging strategies over there!” Nott called and Harry intentionally made his smile turn a bit guilty, shifting to stand between the Carrow twins.

It was great being back into the fold, working with Nott and Daphne again. There was just something about subterfuge that gave him a rush – almost as good as flying, which he was also about to do.

Merlin – flying and subterfuge! He could kiss Daphne right here and now for it.

Nott started the countdown from ten and Harry positioned himself on his broom, readying for the takeoff. His heart was pounding and he went over the race-path in his head, loosely figuring out how to distract the Carrow twins. After all, he was no novice with a broom and had a lot of skill up his sleeve.

“GO!” Nott bellowed and they took to the sky.

Harry immediately dived off the end of the tower in a Wronski Feint, headed straight for the ground and internally ‘whooping’ with pleasure. In his tailwind, he felt someone right behind him and he pulled up, almost smashing into Daphne as she cut him off, streaking straight across the quad. The Carrow twins and Runcorn were hot on her heels.

Crouching low and spiraling toward them, he caught up, doing a quick loop-de-loop around the twins and smiling at them along the way, the wind whipping through his itchy glamoured hair. He stuck near the two of them at the Greenhouses, circling the area and heading toward the gaping door to the interior of the castle, which Daphne and Nott must have left open before the race.

Runcorn was the first one through, followed by Daphne and the twins – he saw them all up ahead. Nott was trailing behind him at the rear, looking more as if he were taking a calm leisurely stroll than racing around Hogwarts on a broom. At the bend in the corridor up ahead, he saw Runcorn slow to peek around the corner and she went for it as the others caught up, doing the same. The entrance leading to the Grand Staircase was at the other end, its doors wide open like a pair of welcoming arms.

Far up ahead, he watched Runcorn shoot through it over a moving staircase, followed by Daphne. Harry caught up the Carrow twins, who were purposely swerving and hogging the corridor. Turning himself onto his side, grasping the Cleansweep one-handed, and flattening sideways atop his broom, he zipped past them, skimming the internal wall with his back. The Carrow twins stared at him with shocked faces as he winked and flitted up the first of many staircases, his robes fluidly rippling around him. His heart was soaring in his chest, free and tingling with happiness.

This was just as fun as Quidditch – maybe even more. The possibility of being discovered by Prefects or teachers gave the activity an intoxicating edge.

He spun up on Daphne, twirling around her and laughing as she quietly scoffed, “Show off,” to him as he passed. It only served to goad her into drafting in his tailwind and knocking him out of balance as she cut close, flying alongside him with a smirk on her face. The back of her robes whipped at his cheek and she zoomed up ahead, looking back on him with a promise of a challenge in her eyes.

He’d take that challenge any day.

Harry ducked low, maneuvering himself around the staircases and over a railing to catch up right beside her as they paused, staring around the corner at the corridor which led to the Astronomy Tower. Runcorn only just made it around the next corner ahead as two Prefects came out from behind a secret passage tapestry, conversing loudly to each other. He and Daphne hung back and the Carrow twins nearly ran into them on their way up.

“If we all fly fast enough and high enough, they won’t see us,” Daphne whispered, hovering higher and gesturing for them to follow.

Quietly, they all moved backwards for room to pick up speed and, like a volley of arrows, whooshed forward, their heads nearly touching the high ceilings of the hall. Harry’s heart lodged itself in his throat the entire time and he held his breath, willing his broom to go as quickly as possible. They could be caught at any moment. His head grazed the ceiling, ripping out a tuft of his hair.

In a blurred streak of colour and motion, they jetted over the gossiping Prefects and around the corner, continuing on with the race. The Carrow twins were back at taking over the corridor, flying all around and trying to block his and Daphne’s path. They used a smarter tactic than before, moving randomly – but there was a pattern to everything.

Harry’s keen eyes spotted an opening and he took it, curling himself around the Cleansweep Gold. He left the girls in his dust with a flourishing twist through the open door of the Astronomy Tower. The spiraling staircase of the tower made him slow down slightly when he almost ran into a wall, kicking off of it with his feet.

Two rounds up the stairs, he happily finished, taking a spin around the tower and landing on the walkway, two feet firmly planted and a wide smile on his face.

Runcorn clapped softly, grinning just as wide as he was. “Nice flying,” she said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d ask if you played professional Quidditch. You seem like you’d be a natural seeker.”

“I’ve only dabbled in the sport,” Harry replied with a modest shrug. “But you won – fair and square. I’d say that says more about your flying than mine.”

Runcorn took a mocking bow. “Why, thank you. Maybe if you weren’t trying to pull off all your tricks, you could have beat me.”

Or, if Daphne and Nott didn’t want you to win, I could have, Harry thought.

“Who knows,” he ambiguously responded, feeling two sets of feet land behind him on the wooden walkway around the Astronomy Tower. Daphne was circling the area and dismounted in front of him with ease.

“That was wicked!” Flora exclaimed, rushing over to the group. “It was exhilarating, going past those Prefects!”

“I know! I thought we were done for!” Hestia said, excitement filling her voice. “I really do hope you get the apprenticeship, Mr. Voynich. It would be amazing if we could do this again.”

“That’ll be another thing we’ll have to see about, Miss Carrow – if I get it,” Harry replied, still unable to contain his smile as he watched the three girls animatedly recount the race with each other.

They were all really nice girls, from what he could gather of them in this short time; he distantly wondered why in the world they’d want to get mixed up with Cornfoot and all that. It was a shame, really. But… he knew that prejudice ran deep and some people believed in following the footsteps of the rest of their family. Perhaps that was it: They were following the Runcorn mole and the set of Carrow Death Eaters... Bad influence had its way of making good people do terrible things.

It didn’t take long before Nott joined them, still composed as ever, despite the windswept hair and pink cheeks from the flight.

“Who won?” the weedy Slytherin boy asked, straightening out his cloak and shouldering his broom, breaking Harry out of his reverie.

“I did!” Runcorn announced, stepping forward.

Daphne took the pair of scrying mirrors from her pocket and presented them to her. “You definitely earned these – that was some rather good maneuvering down there. I’d love it if you’d join us next time,” she said, then she glanced at the Carrow twins. “All of you. I’ll see if I can dig up an even better prize.”

“Oh, please. I doubt you could top my prize gathering,” Nott retorted arrogantly, his lips curling into a smirk. “My father has all sorts of interesting devices he leaves laying around… he rarely notices if a few go missing.”

The avaricious look on Runcorn’s face was more than palpable as she glanced over at Nott. It was a good strategy, name-dropping his presumed-to-be Death Eater father… That must have been why she was so interested in him after they were all introduced.

“I’ll take that challenge,” Daphne muttered, matching Nott’s smirk.

“Oh, I’ve a great idea! D’you think you could brew some liquid luck, Mr. Voynich? I heard Slughorn gave that out as a prize at the beginning of the year,” Hestia cut in, staring over at him.

Nott and Daphne feigned looks of curiosity and Runcorn’s greedy little eyes turned to him.

Shrugging, Harry replied, “It’s a very advanced potion. Even a person at my level has difficulties brewing it.”

“But you must be great if Slughorn’s considering taking you as an apprentice,” Flora said, noticeably trying to flatter him and coquettishly fiddling with her reddish-brown hair.

Her sister was far more subtle as she tried to persuade him, pointing out, “He has very high standards – I doubt he’d take on just anyone.”

“Could you try it?” Runcorn asked, holding the scrying mirrors to her chest. “I’ve always wanted to see what liquid luck was like.”

He wasn’t sure about the Carrow twins, but Harry definitely suspected that Runcorn wanted that potion so she could give it to Cornfoot – the way she was looking at him, and Nott, made her intentions rather obvious. She barely could withhold her interest. Of course, he’d never allow her the chance of getting her hands on a vial of the potion, but there wasn’t any harm in making her think differently…

With a crooked smile, Harry replied in a tone he hoped to be charming – the way Tom Riddle used it so perfectly, “Well, there’s no harm in trying, is there?”

The three girls cheered and, behind their backs, he saw Daphne give him a nod of approval, appraising him in a way that made sparks twist through his stomach.

It was only a matter of time – Runcorn and the Carrow twins were on their way to becoming potentially valuable assets.

OoO

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading and please review!