Interlude IV

March 1994

Daphne stared down the empty corridor outside the Great Hall. She'd been standing there for almost half an hour. For Daphne, it felt infinitely longer. Every student had passed her, most seemed uneasy, others relieved. But Daphne remained, impassively watching the end of the corridor, waiting to see a mop of unruly black hair and bright green eyes rushing to meet her.

But she didn't, and he didn't.

"Oi! You there! Watcha doing?" Filch's gravelly voice called out to her.

Daphne didn't respond. She merely reached down for her trunk, enchanted with a Feather-Light Charm, and then pushed her way past the grumpy caretaker to board the last carriage bound for Hogsmeade Station.

She boarded the Hogwarts Express and stowed her trunk in an empty compartment at the end of the train. She sat down and stared out the window. It wasn't long before the train whistle blew, and it began to move. Over the course of the eight-hour trip to King's Cross, students walked up and down the corridors, talking and gossiping about the death of Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart. On a few occasions, people peeked in to see who was in the last compartment and each of them saw the same thing; Daphne sitting with her hands in her lap, staring emotionlessly out the window. Only when the trolley lady tapped on the door did Daphne move, and it was only to wave her off.

The train reached the station and the students poured out. Most into the arms of their relieved parents and caregivers. Daphne waited until most were gone before she rose from her seat, grabbed her trunk, and departed. There was no one there for her, of course, there never was. She walked to the floo connection that would take her to the outskirts of Lyndhurst. She couldn't travel directly to her home because her father preferred Apparition and didn't wish to pay for a floo connection he didn't use. So, every time Daphne needed to come and go, she had to walk the three miles to a small magically pub that allowed her to use their connection, gratefully for free.

Godfrey, the pubkeeper who had enormous and bushy eyebrows, looked up in surprise when Daphne stepped out of the fireplace of the Flying Pixie.

"Hey there, young lady! Aren't you a little early this year?"

"School closed. People died," Daphne said dispassionately. It took a moment for Godfrey to process what she said, but by the time he did, she was already out the door.

She steadily walked down the road heading north towards the large wooded area that surrounded the village. The road didn't have a walking path, so Daphne was forced to walk in the grass and dirt to avoid getting get hit by those large metal monstrosities the Muggles used to travel. She usually walked with her head on a swivel just in case one of those 'automobiles' suddenly lost control and headed towards her, but, today, she didn't pay attention to anything but what lied in front of her.

The path to her home was magically hidden and the only people who could find it had to know what to look for; a tree with a set of branches that appeared to be pointing east. When she reached it, she turned and disappeared into a bush. From her point-of-view, a long unkempt dirt path appeared. She then walked another half-mile before a midsized stone cottage that was covered in unchallenged growth came into the view. Her home lied next to a small river named Dogben Gutter and was the secret to their family's success. The water had a unique magical property that few people knew about and was the foundation of their potions for one simple reason; it made even the vilest potion taste not so vile.

Daphne retrieved a large metal key and brushed away the weeds that had grown in the way. She had to push hard to open the door wide enough for her to get her trunk through. The house was silent but that wasn't unusual, neither were the layers of dust that made it seem like the cottage was abandoned. She smelled the familiar potion fumes coming from the cellar and was sure that her father was down there, like he always was, tolling away over his multitude of potion orders. She didn't bother announcing her presences and didn't expect her father to notice the sound of someone walking about the cottage.

Crack!

"What's the Mistress doing back so soon?" Cobble, their house elf, annoyingly asked. He had been with the family since her father's father had moved them to England. He was fiercely loyal to the family was her father's only assistant. As a result, Cobble had developed the same level of apathy for her that her father had.

She didn't answer and just walked up the stairs. She heard another crack and knew Cobble had rejoined her father, probably without tell him that she was home. Daphne entered her room and set her trunk down. She was just about to crawl into bed when her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since that morning and it only had been a bit of toast. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the ice box to see what they had. Cobble wasn't much of a cook and her father usually preferred different soups and stews over anything more substantial. Luckily, there was a half-eaten chicken that didn't look too old. Daphne placed a drumstick and then some beard and cheese on a plate and returned to her room. She sat down on her bed and began picking at the chicken, but despite her hunger pains, she struggled to find the motivation to take another bite.

A drop of water splashed on her plate. Daphne looked up to the ceiling to check for a leak but didn't see anything. That's when she realized that it had come from her. She wiped her hand across her face and looked at the accumulated tears that she didn't know how long had been there. She stared defiantly at her hand and resolved that they would be the last. She wiped her hand on her bed and pushed away her plate. She grabbed one of her pillows and hugged it tightly. She stared around her room and the layers of dust that had accumulated since she had left.

Daphne laid down and fought away every thought that tried to creep into her mind. She didn't want to think about school. She didn't want to think about her family. Not about how lonely and empty she felt when she was here. Not about how she almost escaped to be around a proper family. And especially, not about him. But the more she tried, the easier it was for them to penetrate her walls and the tears she vowed to hold back came without end.