Chapter Text
~~~~~The Bargain~~~~~
I: Striking A Deal
~~~~~The Bargain~~~~~
The Forbidden Forest
Scottish Highlands
November 6th, 1994
A lone ring of undisturbed mushrooms sat in the Forbidden Forest. There was no light to be shone upon them. The moon was new, and the night as dark as pitch.
The sounds of the forest were muted. Dull. Few things would dare approach. They were all too aware of the sinister truth behind such a tempting trap. They knew better than to let it see them.
The same could not be said of the boy approaching the ring.
He let out a slow breath, a thin white fog appearing before him. His way was guided by the metal lantern in his hand, the flame within glowing with warm golden light. His cheeks were rosy red from the cold, but he chose to press on rather than retreat to the warm safety of the castle to his back.
When the furthest fingers of light touched the mushrooms, the boy stopped.
The air was still, and even colder than before. Despite the dusting of snow and the frigid chill, the mushrooms looked almost vibrant. As if they were thriving in these conditions, against all odds.
In the distance, a bell tolled. Midnight.
The lantern’s flame flickered, despite the glass cage protecting it from the elements. The boy’s hand tightened around the handle.
Slowly, he unclasped his robe. It shimmered, and he was revealed to the eyes of the forest. His jet black hair, short and curly, had become a mess from how much he'd run hands through it from stress. His emerald eyes flickered across the clearing, searching for nonexistent evidence of having been followed. His hand trembled briefly, but then he pursed his lips as he gathered his strength.
Spotting a nearby stump, he set the lantern down on top of it. The creak of the metal handle felt painfully loud in the eerie silence of the forest. He tried to pretend it didn't make his skin crawl.
He stared at the circle, lip trembling. He had to remove his glasses, as they'd fogged up. After a quick rub with his shirt, he put them back on.
He was nervous. Terrified, even. His chest felt tight, as if his heart and lungs were trying to make themselves as small as possible to avoid notice. Every cell in his body demanded he leave, that he follow his baser instincts and flee from something so unnatural and wrong.
Yet at the same time, there was… Something else. A scent? A voice? A tiny little urge, whispering in the back of his mind? A curling finger he couldn't even see, beckoning him forward? It could've been anything. It could've been nothing. Just a delusion. But it was there.
Something about him wanted to approach. Something that was numb to his senses, thoughts, and feelings. Something that wanted to break and go mad. Something that he couldn't be sure was entirely himself - worse, he couldn't be sure it wasn't.
All the same, the mushrooms simply sat there. Existing in defiance of all common sense.
It made his stomach twist. If he'd had the guts to eat dinner, he would've emptied them already.
The first step was the hardest. The clunky movement suited such leaden feet. He felt stiff and jerky, like a puppet. He was forcing every single movement. Just as in defiance of his very being as these mushrooms were of nature and the world.
The boy stopped at the edge. His toes brushed the mushrooms. The forest felt almost arctic. The cloak that should've shielded him from any element felt like paper, unable to stop the chill that sank into his bones. These mushrooms could've been related to dementors, what with how they drained the warmth out of him. He ignored the screams in the back of his mind.
The boy had faced much adversity in the past. Men and monsters alike. He knew what it was like to act in fear of death - to carry a bravery and courage that used his fears and nightmares as kindling for their flames.
But right now, staring at these mushrooms with watery eyes and a breath that came in short, stiff gasps, he felt no spark of warmth. There was no defiance to light his way or grant him strength.
Not in the face of this.
He lifted his foot and stepped forward.
The second he passed the barrier, he felt eyes on him. Not just a pair, either.
Unbidden, he remembered the Sorting Ceremony. The feeling of hundreds of eyes on him, all around him. Each and every one watching his every movement, down to the last twitch of his fingers.
This felt just like that. But he couldn't see the eyes. In fact, he couldn't see anything.
When had the lantern gone out?
He turned around, desperately looking for something. Anything. His eyes only met a cold, unforgiving blackness.
When he heard the rustle of leaves, he whirled. But his vision remained empty.
“Who-who’s there…?” He whispered. His voice shook and trembled like a snowflake in the wind.
The rustling happened again… No. Not rustling. It was laughter. But despite resembling the sounds of nature, it made the boy’s cells scream in horror. Even the hissing of a basilisk had never filled him with such a sense of dread. A part of him wanted nothing more than to flee. But he didn't. He wasn't sure if it was by choice, or because his legs had simply ceased to function.
“May I have your name?”
Tears streamed down the boy’s face.
That voice was just wrong in ways he could never have imagined. He had no way to explain the sounds being made. It was as if an assortment of things had abruptly banded together to form an approximation of a human voice. Barely.
It made no sense that he wanted to answer. The sheer idea of speaking felt a herculean task. But…
But some small, perhaps insane part of him felt as if just being exposed to this thing was breaking him. Making him want to answer. He felt an urge to say his name. To give this thing what it wanted.
He dug his nails into his palms so tightly they dug furrows in. The pain made him recoil, but also quieted that foreign, fervent desire.
But not wanting to give up his name so freely didn't mean he had nothing to say.
He scrounged up his courage. Forced the flames to light, even as they immediately threatened to sputter out.
“Wh-what’s your offer?” He managed.
The air froze. The boy felt as though being skewered with icicles would've been a more pleasant sensation. His eyes burned and stung while his hands and face turned stiff in the face of such arctic air.
“My… Offer, you say?” The voice responded slowly. Haltingly. As if curious and, perhaps, surprised. He couldn't be sure. The tone was all wrong.
“Y-yeah. Your offer,” the boy repeated. He sounded about as brave as he felt.
His blood curdled and his stomach writhed as he felt the eyes change. How? How could it go from feeling like eyes to feeling like smiles? How many things were there? Or… Or if it was just one, what in the name of all that was good was this thing?
“Speak your name, child. Show me your wares,” the voice said.
Wares. Wares. It said this so easily. As if his name were something to auction and sell.
Isn't that why you're here? Asked a small part of himself. He ignored it, pretending it was the same as the maddened voice writhing within.
He spoke his name. As he did, a small light left his mouth. It looked disturbingly like the one the dementors had nearly pulled from his godfather’s lips. Though, the boy was markedly more conscious at the moment.
Rather than be enveloped by the darkness, the light began to splinter and fracture. It was broken apart like a toy being shattered. He couldn't tell if this was violent or gentle. He prayed it was the latter, but knew he had no say in the matter.
The light shifted and formed what almost looked like a web. All around him, ‘panels’ formed within the gaps of the web. Panels that showed his life. He felt so exposed. Naked. It was almost violating.
There he was, fighting a snake the size of a train. Its eyes were gouged out while he swung a sword that may as well have been a needle. The fact he had survived such an event was harder to believe with every passing day.
He saw another moment. Himself unwrapping a present on his bed in the red tower. The same silvery cloak that offered him such paltry protections tonight. It had felt a lot more powerful three years ago.
Then a third moment, falling through time with his closest friend. An attempt to change history, recent as it had been. Saving lives that would've otherwise been lost.
More and more moments passed by. He wasn't sure if he was seeing them or remembering them.
That night, with the scream ringing through his ears. A raspy voice speaking of a prophecy he couldn't hear. A small little cupboard almost as dark as the night. A shouting hat that determined his home for seven years. And so on the moments went…
So many memories. Fourteen and a half years worth. Ending on some very recent ones.
Flames. Screams. Blood. A sickly green skull in the sky. Laughing men in masks inflicting indiscriminate torture.
A goblet of flames. A name being called. The last one he'd wanted to hear.
A book, speaking of a way out. An option only the most insane, desperate of souls would choose. A fate, perhaps, worse than death.
“Fascinating.”
Faster than his eyes could follow, the memories reversed. The light reassembled itself, breaks and fractures repairing themselves. It was like a tape measure having its tongue reeled back, all in one go. Swift and sharp - ending in a loud, crisp snap.
The light went back into his mouth. It didn't make him feel any less exposed.
“You bring a tantalizing gem to the table, child,” the voice crooned. It sounded calculating. As if it were determining his ‘worth’ and ‘value’.
Well, that much he was used to.
More sounds came from… It, whatever it was. But he didn't hear anything that resembled a voice. Not even the blood-curdling approximation.
The chirping of birds in far too deep a pitch. Bark tearing off of a tree in reverse. As well as something that could only be the whispering of wind creating rippling waves.
He wasn't sure how he knew what those sounds were. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how he knew. Some knowledge just wasn't meant for humans. Not if they wanted to keep their wits about them.
He felt something wrap around him. It wasn't physical. Not really. It was more of a sensation. Like a hand, but… No. How many fingers? Four? Seven? Eighteen? It made no sense. None at all.
It felt like he was being inspected more thoroughly. It was like…
It was like whatever this was, saw him the same way he saw it. As a thing. But while the boy saw it as an incomprehensible creature or being of some manner, it saw him as livestock, or an object. He was a pig being evaluated for sale.
If he weren't scared spitless, he might've had the guts to feel insulted. As it was, a little voice told him it was in his best interest to stay quiet and not make this thing angry. He agreed wholeheartedly.
“Indeed… A fine specimen. I must say, I'm pleased. Very pleased. It’s not often someone like yourself steps up to our tables. Why, you're practically a VIP Customer!”
The laughter was not comforting. But he at least took a miniscule degree of solace in knowing that this… Whatever it was, seemed to be happy. That probably meant good things for him.
“So… Wh-what will you give me?” He asked, voice still shaky. No amount of time would be enough to get used to being under such scrutiny.
The voice chuckled, and it sounded like a landslide. “So impatient. Tsk, tsk. Let's see, what to give you…”
A new light appeared, drawn from the darkness. Drawn from nothingness itself.
It gleamed for a brief moment before it unraveled. But rather than break apart like the boy’s, this one spun like a reel, showing thousands of little images. So many seemed inconsequential - clothing, a wand, a valley, the sort.
But one stood among the rest. A face.
He couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was human, he could tell that much. But it seemed… Strange. He couldn't place it. Something was wrong. Missing.
“It will be yours,” the voice crooned. “Only then will it be whole. Complete. A Name is nothing without a soul.”
A soul…
“So… I-I keep my soul?” He asked quietly.
“No Name is worth a soul. No soul is worth a Name.”
What does that even mean? The boy wanted to cry. What are you? What are you saying? How does that make sense?
But he held his tongue. Because he knew better.
“A-and…” He swallowed heavily. “And… Th-this name, once I have it, I won't have to do it? No Tournament? No… No him?”
A sinister, dark laugh, echoed in his mind. One that sounded nothing like the thing’s. It was high, cold, and harsh. Wicked and cruel. Wrong in a thousand different ways, yet none shared with the being he stood in the grasp of.
“None of it,” the voice promised. “That fate belongs to you. But once you sell yourself, you will no longer be you.”
That made about as much sense as anything else. But he didn't really mind. He understood enough. He knew that this was exactly what he was asking for. Exactly what he wanted.
He extended a stiff hand out into the ether.
“It's a deal.”
He felt the hundreds of smiles widen. Unnaturally so, at that. As if contorting with rabid glee. This thing was thrilled, overjoyed even.
Laughter filled his ears as the reels of light shot back into themselves. Soon, all that remained was the original ball. Waiting. Pulsing. Beckoning him towards it with the promise of sweet, exultant freedom.
He felt a hand grasp his forearm, his own fingers locking around the other forearm without his say-so. It felt… Human, this time. Warm and soft, yet strong. Proper flesh, even if he couldn't see it.
Every cell in his body screamed. They were crying, screeching, and bellowing. Howling in agony. No matter what he wanted, his instincts and nature were telling him just how wrong this was. How much of a mistake he was making. His life flashed before his eyes, as if his body were preparing to die.
Maybe it would. He didn't know. Whatever was going to happen from now on was an absolute mystery to him.
But he felt like there was no other choice.
“Speak your Name, child. And I shall Name you anew.”
Goodbye, the boy thought to himself.
“Harry James Potter.”
“Daphne Bridget Greengrass.”
A much shorter boy pulled Daphne out of the circle with unnatural strength. She stumbled at first, legs feeling weak and unsteady, before she managed to right herself and look around.
The warm light of the lantern flickered nearby, as if it had never gone out. Perhaps it hadn't. The sky seemed different, too. Not as dark. Just how much time had passed? She hadn't been in the circle for that long, had she?
But when she turned to look, the circle was gone. Taking all its mysteries with it. Not that she comprehended them in the slightest, anyway.
“I…”
“Easy,” said a voice she recognized. Except… Not. It sounded higher pitched than she'd ever heard it. Not unnaturally so. Just… Higher.
Daphne blinked slowly and her eyes adjusted before fixating on the boy in front of her. And goodness, did she ever recognize him.
“Wh— how?” She gasped. It didn't make sense. What she'd just done… She'd thought he'd stop existing.
Harry arched an eyebrow before smiling. “You did give me this name. Per the Law, it can now only ever be mine. That means I need to leave no ‘gaps’.” He shrugged a little, his easygoing demeanor seeming rather unnatural on someone with all those memories.
“I… I don't understand,” she stammered. “A-and wait a moment, ‘Daphne Greengrass’? But she's one of my classmates!” She protested, feeling a little sick at the idea that she'd taken someone else's place.
“Of course you are,” Harry said matter-of-factly. He saw her expression and sighed, sounding exasperated. “Oh, calm down. It isn't what you think. I implanted some memories, collectively, to ensure you'd still be able to stay here. I knew you wanted to, after all.”
He did? How… Oh. Right. He literally had all her old feelings and memories. Of course he knew. How silly of her to forget. “I see. Well… Thank you.”
He gave her a curious look before smiling crookedly. “Bargainers. Always so curious,” he said mildly. “But, well, you're welcome all the same.”
Before Daphne could wonder at that, a breeze brushed across the clearing. She shivered, not having the protection of a cloak. All she had were a shirt and pair of pajama pants that felt painfully thin in the late autumn air.
“Tsk.” Harry reached out and grabbed the air before shaking it out. For the briefest moment, her vision felt like it was distorting. But then it passed, and Harry was tossing a verdant green cloak unlike anything she'd seen before around her shoulders. It was warm, with a wonderfully soft interior.
“Wouldn't do for you to freeze to death, I suppose,” he said mildly, though he sounded amused.
“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling the cloak close. It did a perfectly fine job of keeping her warm. Better even than the invisibility cloak had her… Er, her old body.
“It's yours,” he said cryptically. So it was a gift? Or he'd planned on it from the start. Myrddin, he was confusing.
Daphne shook her head slowly. She felt her hair fall in front of her face and went to push it back before pausing. Blonde. Her hair was blonde, and rather straight. Still thick, though. “I'm… Blonde? And, one moment. I’m a girl. Why a girl?”
Harry shrugged. He strode over to the lantern and picked it up, pausing only to dust some snow off the top. “You wanted a different life. A different face is sort of the bare minimum.”
“I…” She reached her hand up. Her cheeks felt different. So did her jaw, her nose… But at the same time, it felt familiar. Her body had no complaints, no confusion. It all felt right. Only her mind felt any dissonance, and it wasn't even clear. As if she didn't fully understand why she was confused.
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn't do it to have a laugh,” Harry added. His little smirk didn't make it easy to believe him. When he started to walk, Daphne jolted before hurrying after him. With her longer legs, it wasn't very hard. “This body is simply what I felt would be best for you. Besides, it's not like you're feeling any dysphoria or discomfort. Right?”
“I…” Daphne shook her head. He was right, admittedly. She didn't feel any of those things. It was mostly a lot of confusion. “I suppose not. I just don't really understand.”
“Do you want to?” Harry asked. His tone was warning and unimpressed. As if she'd suggested something very, very reckless and stupid.
“I… Don't think so, no,” she admitted. Even without his judgment, she knew that trying to understand his kind was a recipe for disaster.
“Good idea,” he said approvingly.
As they continued walking through the forest, she noticed that no monsters or animals approached. The pair were given a wide berth, uninterrupted by the forest’s many denizens. It was as if the mushrooms’ foreboding energy had clung to Harry to ward off any unwanted attention.
“You'll notice many changes, most to yourself. Some might surprise you, but they really shouldn't,” Harry told her. “Habits. Behaviors. Talents. Just enough to make sure you blend in, nobody catches onto what happened, and you're sufficiently different from me.”
“I see… It makes sense. It wouldn't be good if this got out.”
“Indeed.” Harry began to dim the lamp. Daphne was confused at first until she saw that the sky was beginning to lighten. So she'd been out all night, then. Somehow.
“And… I suppose my friends aren't my friends anymore, are they?” She asked quietly, having her suspicions toward the answer even if it hurts.
“That is correct. They are mine,” Harry agreed. He gave her an almost apologetic look. “And, Daphne?”
“Yes?” She asked.
He stopped, and she did the same. “You must not approach them.”
“I— I wasn't going to tell anyone,” she defended weakly.
Harry shook his head. “That isn't my concern. I'm not worried about what you can't do,” he said. “There are… Things I must try to maintain. The closer you get to me, my friends, my life? The harder it is for me to preserve these things. You must not approach them.”
She grimaced. “That's… It's not like I'd get many opportunities, anyway,” she said bitterly. “I'm in Slytherin, not Gryffin…” She paused, then winced and held her head for a moment.
“You would do well in Slytherin, you know… It's all there in your head…”
“You… The Hat?” She whispered. She was almost certain she didn't have that memory ‘before’.
“‘Time’ isn't as much of a barrier to us as it is to you,” Harry said mildly. “I made it say that - that one's not a false memory. I had to make sure you didn't doubt yourself.” He turned the lamp all the way out. It was no longer necessary. Though, now his face looked shadowed in an eerie way.
“You have a new life. New opportunities. Everything is different for you, now,” Harry told her. She felt a little unnerved, seeing those eyes - Lily Potter’s eyes - on someone else. “It won't be easy to get used to. You'll likely regret it. But… What is done cannot be undone. The deal was struck.”
The deal was struck. The way he said that sounded… Final. Absolute. As if it were something she could never hope to argue against. It sounded as certain as snow being cold, or the sun rising in the east. It sounded immutable.
“So… What do I do now?” She asked. She felt a lot smaller than her new body suggested. Young, lost, and adrift.
“Now… You go to school,” Harry said. He smiled wryly. “Go to class. Learn, study, excel - let the burden of tournaments and Dark Lords hang on the appropriate shoulders. You're free! Best figure out what that means to you.”
What freedom means to me, huh?
She was pensive as they began walking towards the school again. They drifted towards an unmonitored side entrance, one the staff avoided and neither of the visiting schools had eyes on.
The question was harder to answer than she'd have thought. Frankly speaking, she had no idea what freedom meant to her. Her entire life - and she did at least still have all her old memories - freedom had been nothing more than a dream. A fantasy.
But now she had all the freedom in the world. Which was… Daunting, to say the least.
She decided she wasn't ready to dwell on that too much.
As they entered the warm school, both warily checking for adults. Finding none, they shut the door and began to part ways.
“Wh… Oh. This is the way to the Slytherin dorms, isn't it?” She said.
Harry looked over. He nodded. “It is. After this… It's better if we pretend to be strangers. After all, to everyone else…”
“We’re a Slytherin and a Gryffindor,” Daphne said bitterly. “Mortal enemies.”
“Indeed,” Harry said. He actually seemed a little annoyed by that. “Wasn't the case, the last time I dealt with your realm. It seems human hearts are quite fickle.”
“Guess so… Then, uh. I'll… See you in passing, I suppose,” Daphne said.
Harry nodded. “Later, Greengrass,” he said, a perfect imitation of her old diction. Or… No. Not an imitation. The real article. Just… Someone else's, now.
“Yes… I'll be seeing you, Potter,” she replied, the phrase both foreign and comfortably familiar to her lips.
She turned and began to walk, feeling an uneasy sense of disconnect from the boy and life she was leaving behind. An almost sureness that it isn't hers, and that it's stranger to dwell than to move on.
A kindness from him, she wondered? Or maybe just insurance. Unfortunately, she had no idea.
Her mind slowly quieted as she walked through the dungeons, her body tracing a route it felt like it had walked hundreds of times before. She barely needed a small handful of turns before she was reaching an open expanse of wall unlike the others. Mostly due to the serpents on the bottom of the wall.
“Pureblood,” she whispered, the unpleasant password barely needing a thought.
The serpents rose, rearing their heads and bodies to reveal a tunnel.
She pulled her cloak tight and walked into what was once enemy territory, but was now… Home. An incomprehensible thought, that.
She almost paused when she noticed a few older students awake, still in pajamas and rousing themselves. But they paid her no mind. As if they didn't care what she was doing. They barely gave her a cursory glance in acknowledgement before moving on, not questioning whether she belonged at all.
Slytherin, she thought to herself as her feet took her to the girl’s dorms. You're a Slytherin, now.
She opened the door and walked down the dimly lit hallway. The lamps could go brighter, she somehow knew. They were synced with the daylight.
The dorms… Were sorted by year, and alphabetical. Seventh years were first. She passed a couple opening doors with older students. They barely gave her a word beyond the occasional ‘morning’.
Sixth… Fifth… Then Fourth.
Three rooms. The first and third had two names on them. ‘Millicent Bulstrode’ and ‘Tracey Davis’ shared the first, while ‘Pansy Parkinson’ and ‘Sophie Roper’ shared the third.
But in the middle, with just one name on it, was a room for ‘Daphne Greengrass’. Solo. Well, she wasn't going to complain.
On a hunch, she reached into her pocket and found a key. Putting it in the lock was almost habit, and the door unlocked with a soft click.
She pushed it inward, and found herself in a quiet little room. It had dark green walls, brown wooden floors, and an area rug that was pleasantly warm when she stepped out of her shoes.
The furniture was simple. A four-poster with green and silver dressings, a dresser, nightstand, vanity, desk, and her trunk. Everything she could need. Even a door that led to a private bathroom.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity and approached, feeling overwhelmed by curiosity. What did her new face look like?
It came into view, and… Well. She was pretty.
No scars, no freckles, nothing of the sort. Her skin was as clear as could be. Soft skin… Her nose was more narrow, too, and her lips seemed softer and fuller. Narrow eyes, high cheekbones, somewhat sharper jawline… Oh.
“My eyes are brown,” she whispered, bending forward slightly. She felt a slight flush on her cheeks when she caught a glimpse down her own shirt. That… Would be something to get used to.
She shook her head and got back to it. Indeed, her eyes were brown now. Dark brown. Meanwhile, her hair was a light blonde in colour. Not platinum, exactly. Just light.
She was also tall. Of course, as Harry, she'd been distinctly underweight and undergrown. But Daphne was definitely above average in height. Healthy, too. She could feel real muscle in her limbs, and there was fat, too.
“I really am completely different,” she whispered.
Knock knock knock.
Daphne nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled. For a brief second, she half-expected Hermione or Ron to burst in. But… No. Nobody opened the door.
“No faffing about, Greengrass,” she heard a girl’s voice call. “Hurry up and get ready. We've got to go in an hour!”
Isn't that plenty of time? She thought to herself. But instead, she said aloud, “Worry about yourself. I'll be fine.”
“Hmph. Whatever.”
Daphne stared at the door for a long moment before she turned to look at the vanity again. At her new self.
“I suppose… Here goes nothing,” she whispered. “Time to see what comes next.”
She smiled furtively before moving to get ready for school.