DPASW: Revenge is Best Served Raw

Greetings, I am Lord Slytherin - Part 2

Daphne Greengrass, Heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, sat in a garden chair, bathing in the mid-morning sunlight, practising her occlumency. It helped her focus. She needed the distraction. The feelings of helplessness had been getting stronger, like a fist squeezing her heart.

"Daphne, we have a guest for you to meet."

She looked up to see her mum leading—no, walking with...

"I already know John Potter, Mother," she said, disdain etched across her face.

The boy continued walking right up to her. "I assure you, Miss Greengrass—"

Miss?

"—although I may look like John Potter, I most certainly am not John Potter." He held out his hand, and, creating an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, took her hand as she reached out, and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

This certainly wasn't John Potter. Daphne's eyes trailed over a very obvious lightning-bolt-shaped scar on the boy's forehead. So, who was he?

"Harry is taking a break from business with your father and I suggested that since you are the same age, and will be going to Hogwarts together, you might show him around the gardens?"

She looked the boy over. Something wasn't quite right. "Harry who?" she asked.

The boy smiled. "Just Harry for now, Miss Greengrass. My family name is a Greengrass family secret."

Daphne's head whipped around to her mother, who just nodded.

She returned her gaze to Harry and narrowed her eyes. If this boy was going to be all secretive, then she had no reason to be familiar.

"Very well, Mister Harry. Would you follow me?"

"Lead on, Miss Greengrass."

The pair walked away from the patio and into the garden proper. It was a big garden.

Daphne couldn't help stealing glances at the boy walking beside her. Something about him was different. He walked with confidence, but he didn't strut like many of the other boys did. He wasn't talking much, but it wasn't shyness — more a comfortable silence. She'd never seen him at family parties, but his clothes were very rich.

"Mister Harry, what kind of 'business' do you have with my father?"

"We were working on a plan for something he's doing in the Wizengamot."

She scoffed. "There's no way Father would ask for help from children like us for his Wizengamot work. You're a liar, Mister Harry. What were you really doing with him?"

They'd reached the top of a ridge overlooking the flowerbeds.

She expected him to react angrily to her comment. Any of the other boys would have, especially after being caught in a bare-faced lie, unless they were timid, which the boy didn't seem to be. Instead, he smiled at her. It was quite a nice smile.

"Miss Greengrass, in the Wizarding World, you have to accept that sometimes everything is not quite what it seems. This is a nice place isn't it," he said, turning to the beds.

"Wha? Er. Yes. Wait, what was that before supposed to mean?" She glared, putting her hands on her hips and tried to look indignant like she'd seen her mum do when her dad was failing to be funny. It didn't seem to be working.

"Care for a seat?"

Now she was just confused. "There are no seats."

Her eyes widened when the boy produced a wand from somewhere, and her jaw dropped when the boy silently conjured a large, comfy-looking garden chair for her.