The Good Slytherin

Chapter Twelve: Daphne

Knowing that Draco Malfoy thought she was easily coercible weighed heavily on Daphne's mind, but she tried to distract herself with other things--mainly Nathan Price. She had not forgotten about his cryptic references to her family and wanted very much to ask him more, spotting him coming out from Transfiguration classroom along with the rest of the Ravenclaw sixth years.

"Are you even paying attention to a word that I am saying?" Marion chided, snapping her to attention. Her cousin had returned to normal in the days since her confession.

"Sorry. It's just that I see someone," Daphne replied absently as she watched Nathan at the other end of the hallway.

"Clearly," Marion attempted to continue. "So I was saying . . ."

Deciding that this might be her only chance, she told Marion to wait a moment before pushing through the flow of students to catch Nathan. Six or so of his fellow Ravenclaws surrounded him, all chattering animatedly. "Er, Nathan?" she interrupted hesitantly. "I hope you remember me from Mark's birthday?"

Titters erupted from some of the Ravenclaw students who flanked him and an effortlessly pretty brunette closest to him asked snidely, "You know her, Nathan?"

Daphne suddenly felt quite silly for approaching him while he was with his friends and she hurriedly wondered how on earth she could extract herself from this embarrassing situation. Thankfully Nathan proved just as nice as she remembered him, giving a quick reproachful look to his mates. "Right, Daphne. Of course. Tristan's friend."

"I--" she faltered, noticing that a half dozen Ravenclaws gazed at her expectantly.

"Wait here," Nathan ordered as he motioned for Daphne to follow him to a less crowded section of the corridor.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bother," she said once they were away from his friends.

"No bother at all." Was that a smile, she wondered?

"It's only that you said back at the party that your grandmother was a friend of my grandmother before she died. I was hoping you'd tell me something."

The smile seemed to fade into pity. "Oh, right. What do you want to know?"

She was having a hard time forming coherent sentences as Nathan stared down at her with his blue eyes. "Well for starters, you said that our grandmothers were friends."

"Right. They were in Ravenclaw together."

"Ravenclaw?" Daphne was beginning to realize that there was this whole other world she didn't know about.

"You didn't know? They were close friends until the . . . well . . ."

"The deaths?"

"Shame about it really. I can't imagine how I'd take it if my grandparents were killed by Death Eaters."

Daphne was thunderstruck. "You--you must be mistaken. Maybe you are confusing me with someone else?"

Now it was Nathan's turn to be embarrassed, turning beet red. "Well . . . maybe I am. I mean, I thought that was the story. Oh Daphne, I'm terribly sorry--"

"Don't worry about it." Anyone could make that mistake, right? She tried to brush off the comment, felt a little shaken nonetheless. Her mother would have told her if her grandparents were killed by Death Eaters, right? Sadly, this meant that there was someone else out there that had their grandparents murdered by Voldemort's forces . . .

Nathan seemed to be recovering and made an effort to direct the conversation from his gaffe. "Next time you are out in Cambridgeshire, you should visit my gran," he said earnestly. "She'd be really pleased to see you."

"Oh, that sounds nice, but I don't want to be any trouble for you."

"No trouble at all." He smiled sympathetically and went back to the waiting phalanx of Ravenclaw friends. Marion, who was still standing nearby, looked at her wryly. "And what was that about?"

"Oh, it's not what you think," she stammered. "I just had to ask him something."

"I bet you did. You never told me you thought he was cute?"

"I--" she started, flustered and unable to articulate the fact that she did find him mildly cute. "I suppose he's good looking. I hadn't really thought about it until now. Besides, I think he has a girlfriend."

"Who? That cow who was standing next to him? She definitely looked threatened."

"I think you mistook threat for disgust. I'm not sure she's used to plain looking Slytherins asking her boyfriend questions."

"Don't sell yourself short, Daphne," Marion harrumphed. "So what were you asking him?"

"Nosy, aren't we."

"I'm family--it's my duty. Stop stalling and tell me everything."

"It's nothing exciting. He told me back during Mark's birthday that he knew someone from my mum's side of the family. I didn't get a chance to ask him more about it because Mark wanted to make sure we headed to Slytherin in time." A little voice in the back of her head suggested that it might be a good idea to mention the Death Eater comment, but she ignored it.

"Mark? Impatient? Never." Marion kept the sardonic look on her face long enough to add, "And here he is now."

"Hello girls. Am I missing out on any gossip?"

"Daphne's got a crush on Nathan Price. You know, the Ravenclaw who came to your birthday," Marion beamed. "She's just talked to him in the hallway and everything."

She felt absolutely mortified. Mark, however, looked impressed. "Good on you! About time you found yourself a nice bloke."

"Both of you stop it right now. Can't a girl ask a boy a question without it being like that!"

Mark laughed and thankfully nothing more was said--any more and she would die of embarrassment. She quickly forgot all about Nathan's earlier comment.

By mid December, each of her professors felt it necessary to cram in as much homework they could before the Christmas holiday, driving Mark and Daphne to the point of mental exhaustion. "Please tell me the sixth year is not like this," Mark groaned to Tristan one evening in the library as he worked on yet another essay for Wizard Art.

Tristan looked up from his healer homework and scowled. "You're asking the wrong person, mate."

"Compare the decline in wizard portraiture with the magical advances in photography? Professor Tempera must be mad," he groaned again. "A foot and a half of parchment!"

"You think this is bad," Daphne added as she finished the last lines of her Potions essay, "Just wait till we're seventh years and we have to take our N.E.W.T. level examinations." She distinctly heard a high-pitched whimper from Tristan's side of the library table. "Oh, sorry Tristan. Didn't mean to cause a panic."

"It's okay," he mumbled as he got on with his work, quill scratching frantically on a scroll. Daphne noticed that he had surrounded himself with pages of parchment containing complex diagrams of the human body.

"Blimey, I'm knackered already," she said as she rubbed at her temples. "And I haven't even started that wizard art essay, Mark. Thankfully it's not due till Friday." She looked at her watch and noted that it was nearly seven already--their evening nearly gone and soon it would be the end of term. It was going to be a late night and she wished that they didn't have to be back to the common room by eight since the library closed then. Figuring out what homework she had to do next, Daphne was annoyed to notice that she had left her Charms notes back in her room. She was half tempted to use a Summoning Charm to save her the trip.

"Where's Marion?" Mark asked as he cracked open his art textbook. "Wasn't she supposed to join us after dinner?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's back in the Slytherin dorm." She wearily massaged her temples again. "I could use a break and I left something back in the dorm too. I'll go find her."

"All right," Mark replied as he started on his essay outline. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon. Well, that is until Madam Pince kicks us out."

She left the library feeling stiff from having sat hunched over her Potions essay for two hours. Her hand was cramped from writing and a dull ache had formed in her head, which left her wondering if it was too much to bother Madam Pomfrey over something rather inconsequential. Deciding against visiting the hospital wing, she made her way down the stairs for the dungeons. She didn't get very far before a voice from behind made her freeze in her tracks--the voice of the last person on earth she wanted to run into.

"Gordon," Draco Malfoy said menacingly.

She turned around to see him advancing on her, uncharacteristically absent of his two thugs Crabbe and Goyle. "What do you want, Malfoy?" But she knew exactly what he wanted and had been waiting a month for this very moment.

He began to roll his wand absently between his fingers. If he was hoping to imply threat, he was doing a cracking job. "I'm making good on my promise, Gordon," he sneered.

This is it. She steeled herself for what she knew she had to do, fully aware that she was about to open the floodgates. "You wanted to know if you could count on me to sell out to your side?"

He looked blankly at her and Daphne figured that maybe she simplify her language.

"You want to know if I support the Dark Lord?" she reiterated a little slower. Daphne wondered if it would escalate the situation if she got out her wand since she didn't appreciate Malfoy waving his at her.

"Is that a yes?" he asked haughtily.

She looked Malfoy in the eye and summoned every ounce of defiance she could muster--a first for her. "Well, here's my answer, Draco. I will never support you and I will never support the Dark Lord. I'd rather die."

His cold, grey eyes grew wide as he processed what she had to say, hinting that perhaps he hadn't expected this sort of response. "Careful what you wish for, Gordon," he said, jaw clenched. "You might end up like that treacherous aunt of yours--"

Treacherous aunt? "What rubbish are you talking about?"

"--she got your Muggle-loving grandparents killed too," Malfoy continued, almost sing song in tone. "You wouldn't want to be like her and get other people snuffed along the way."

"What did you say?" she asked, aghast and feeling like she had just been hit by a volley of Stunners. Her brain struggled to understand what her grandparents had to do with any of this. And then she remembered what Nathan had said to her a few weeks before and she felt sick. "What are you talking about?"

"Your aunt, Delphinia Thorpe."

"My what? I don't have an aunt named Delphinia," she insisted.

An expression of extreme glee washed across Malfoy's face and she had a feeling she was about to give him an early Christmas present. "This is too good," he said triumphantly. "Your mother's sister! Didn't you know? Well, Gordon, here's a little advice. She got on the wrong side of the Dark Lord and died for it. You should keep that in mind."

Daphne felt like the wind was knocked out of her and she wish she knew a spell that would wipe that smirk off his face. Thinking that maybe the Silencing Charm might work for now, she was interrupted by another voice before she could get out her wand.

"That's enough, Mr. Malfoy. Don't you have somewhere else to be?" She turned to see a stern looking McGonagall watching them from an adjacent corridor. Daphne wondered just how long the Transfigurations professor had been standing there.

Malfoy cleared off, obviously not wanting to test McGonagall's authority. He did manage to snicker threateningly at Daphne before he disappeared down the staircase and she had the distinct impression that he would soon be telling all of Slytherin about this encounter. "Professor--" Daphne attempted once Malfoy was gone, mind reeling from her new found knowledge.

McGonagall gave her a look of pity--an unusual flash of emotion from someone who was normally quite reserved. "Miss Gordon, I suspect that you too have somewhere else to be?"

"Yes," was all she could say before she turned and headed quickly for the dungeons. At that point, she didn't care if she ran into Malfoy again. She needed to find the one person who might be able to shed any light on this--Marion.

She found her fairly easily after a quick search of the Slytherin common room turned up empty. Marion was sitting on her bed talking to one of her fourth year friends and their giggles came to an abrupt end when Daphne suddenly burst through the door. "What is it?" her cousin asked looking quite alarmed.

Not wanting to say much in front of the fourth year, Daphne merely said, "I need to talk to you right now."

Thankfully, Marion got the hint. "Alexa, I'll be right back." Her friend nodded, puzzled, as Marion followed Daphne apprehensively out of the fourth year dorm. "What is it?"

She pulled her into her own room, which was empty, and closed the door behind them. "Tell me what you know about a Delphinia Thorpe?"

Marion grew steadily white. "Daphne, why are you asking me about her?"

"So you know who she is," she said accusingly.

"Of course," Marion stammered. "Why wouldn't I?"

What? "Just please help me understand this because I am having a hard time. Who is Delphinia Thorpe?"

"She's your aunt, Daphne," her cousin whispered in astonishment. "How could you--"

She cut her off. "And how did she die?"

"Oh, how could you not know? She was a Death Eater."

"I had an aunt who was a Death Eater! How did she die?" she asked again.

"She was murdered by some other Death Eaters just before you were born."

"And what did Malfoy mean when he said that she got my grandparents killed?"

"Malf--" she began, but stopped. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it? He told you? Daphne, how could you not know your mum had a sister?"

She rubbed at her temples, the dull ache that she had earlier in the library was exacerbated by her encounter with Malfoy. "Please Marion," she said quietly. "Tell me everything you know. What did my mum's parents have to do with this woman?"

"Delphinia was your mum's younger sister," Marion answered gravely. "The Death Eaters killed her and your grandparents too."

Daphne turned away and sat on the emerald duvet of her bed, sickened. "Marion, how come you never told me? How come Mark or Tristan never said anything?"

Her cousin joined her on the edge looking just as shocked as Daphne must look.
"I swear I didn't know that you didn't know, otherwise I would have said something. But--" she hesitated. "No one talks about it in the family."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I remember Gran once warned me to never speak of it."

She struggled to understand the emerging reality. "So my mum had a sister that I never knew about? And my grandparents were killed by Death Eaters?"

"I'm surprised that you lasted this long in Slytherin without knowing!"

Daphne had an epiphany, feeling for the first time in her life that she had the key to understanding some of the causes of her misery. "It all makes sense now. Malfoy, Parkinson, and the others. The way the Dark Lord is venerated in this place, no wonder I was singled out from day one."

"I suppose your blood lines prevented him from having you completely chucked out. After all, that's one of the reasons why you weren't on that list of his." Marion then looked at her cautiously. "I cannot believe that your mum never told you."

"But why? It doesn't make sense." It was the one piece of the puzzle that still remained unsolved. Deeply unsettled by notion that her mother had been lying to her all her life, a fierce anger countered within Daphne.

"I know," Marion said consolingly. "Believe me when I say that I would have said something, but you know what our family is like! I mean, take Gran for instance. Everything she says goes. If she says do not talk about it, we don't talk about it."

Marion was right--her grandmother Hyperia was the fierce matriarch of the Gordon clan and held a tight reign over the family. It was through her that Daphne derived her blood ties to the Malfoys and it was through Hyperia's mother that Draco Malfoy and Daphne shared a common ancestor--a fact that she desperately wanted to wish out of existence. Because of her influence, she had no trouble believing that her gran could have been an accessory to this elaborate lie. But her mother?

Overcome by a sense of great restlessness, all Daphne wanted to do at this point was confront her mother, but it would have to wait till she went home on Saturday. "How are you feeling?" Marion asked after a minute passed in silence.

"Like I just found out that my family has been lying to me for fifteen years," she whispered, voice full of shock.

Marion frowned sympathetically.

"You should have seen the look on his face when he found out that I didn't know," she continued, feeling like she wanted to crawl out of her skin from the shame. "Ugh! I feel like such an idiot!"

Marion leaned over to hug Daphne. "He's absolutely rotten."