The Good Slytherin

Chapter Fifteen: Daphne

As the train rapidly churned along, Daphne stared out onto the cold Muggle world, silently rehearsing how she was going confront her parents. Too often during the journey her mind would drift back to the look on Draco Malfoy's face as they stood in the stairwell. The very thought created a sinking feeling in her stomach and she could feel her resolve slowly evaporate.

Soon they were in the suburbs of London and she spied the landmarks that signaled that Kings Cross wasn't too far off. Panic set in and her mind started to race. Did she have it in her to ask them about Delphinia Thorpe? Before long she found herself standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters right back where she began in September--anxious and dragging her trunk.

"Don't let them get you down," Mark whispered in her ear as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Remember, I'm a Floo ride away."

Daphne smiled weakly, but knew it was nice to know that Mark would be there for her. She gave him a hug before they both went their separate ways to find their families.

And there they were, standing only a few yards away, and the instant Daphne saw them she lost her nerve. Her father, with his pale hair starting to turn grey, came forward to help with the trunk. Dressed in a charcoal colored suit and black cashmere cloak, he pulled his wand out. "Here, Daphne. Let me get that."

As the trunk began to levitate, her mother moved forward with a hug. "Welcome home, darling," her mother said, arms wrapping warmly around her. Daphne's body stiffened in her embrace. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes," she replied glumly before realizing with a shock that her mother looked thin and tired.

"Ready to go, Daphne?" her father asked, trunk floating a good two feet off the ground. They said their goodbyes to Marion and Auntie Stella and then began to move towards the coach her parents had hired.

"Daphne, dear," her mother quietly asked somewhere around Putney, "how's school going?"

Oh fine, Mum, she thought to herself. Found out that you have been lying to me all my life. Instead she said, "Okay," staring vacantly out the window. At the rapid rate they were moving at, they should be somewhere near Windsor.

"You have your O.W.L. examinations in June. We need to start talking about what you want to do after Hogwarts," he father added. "And how's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? I'm sure she's a great improvement over the teachers Dumbledore has insisted on hiring in the past."

Daphne turned to see her father smiling benevolently as he loosened the cloak from his shoulders. The compartment lantern swung back and forth as the coach jostled over the countryside. "Yeah. A big improvement," she said with sarcasm.

Her mother, on the other hand, cleared her throat. Daphne watched as she removed her wide hat, letting some of brown hair pull out of her hair clip. Yes, her mother looked haggard and dark circles had formed under her eyes.

Soon the shadowy form of a rambling ivy covered house emerged on the horizon signaling that they were home. Silhouetted against the fading light, the house had been in the Gordon family for two centuries. When the coach pulled swiftly before the entrance, Daphne left without further word to her parents and went straight to her room. She was certain she heard her mother ask, "What do you suppose is wrong with her?" to which her father replied, "Teenagers these days."

She shut the door to her room loudly behind her.

Sprawled listlessly on her bed, Daphne remained in her room despite her mother's and the house elf's failed attempts to get her to come down for dinner--she wasn't hungry anyway. She moped quietly for hours, letting her eyes wander over the landscape painting over her bed. Her mind was still haunted by the memory of Malfoy's savage laugh and the mysteries of Delphinia Thorpe. Why did she become a Death Eater? What was she like? Did she commit horrible crimes? Daphne didn't even know what her aunt looked like for that matter.

Suddenly she struck upon an idea--an idea so tantalizing that she sat up in bed. There had to be evidence of her aunt--photographs, mementos, something--somewhere stashed away within the walls of the house. Daphne had to find them.

It was quite late, late enough for her mother to be in bed and perhaps her father too. When she crept silently out of her room and downstairs, she noticed that her father's office door was shut and light peered out from under the door into the dim hallway. He was likely working on something regarding business and Daphne was certain she could nose around without garnering his attention.

Full of nervous excitement, she knew the best place to start looking was probably in her mother's things in her bedroom, but that would have to wait till no one was around. Instead, she impatiently headed for the sitting room and began to rifle haphazardly through drawers, unsure of what she was looking for. Daphne just wanted to find something--some small inkling of the person whose life was key to so many mysteries in her life.

"And what are you up to?" asked a woman's voice, startling Daphne. She dropped a sheaf of parchment that she had found and looked up. No one was there.

"Who--" she started to say, only then realizing that the voice had come from the painting that hung over the fireplace.

In it stood a middle-aged lady in a stiff blue dress and she was looking directly at her. Daphne knew that it was a portrait of Phillipa Gordon, one of her ancestors. "You are looking for something, aren't you? I can spot a guilty conscience."

"Er--you have to promise not to tell my mum," she pleaded, her heart beating faster now that she was caught in the act.

"Your secret is safe with me," the lady replied with a wry smile, and as she did, Daphne noticed that some of the other portraits that lined the room began to stir. Perhaps her secret wasn't so safe.

"What is this about a secret?" asked a wizened old man loudly from a portrait that hung nearby.

"Shhh! My father's in the room down the hall," she admonished before turning back to the lady over the fireplace. "I was wondering if you knew anything about my mother's sister, Delphinia?"

If it were possible for a portrait to blanch, the lady surely did at the mention of her aunt. "So you've finally found out about Delphinia Thorpe."

Daphne recoiled a little. Did everyone know about Delphinia Thorpe except her? Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. "Er, yes," she stammered. "I only found out about her a few days ago. Can you tell me anything about her?"

"Unfortunately I cannot." The painting looked truly sympathetic. "Your mother was here only a short time before the tragedy. I saw Delphinia Thorpe that one time--the night she practically broke down the front door to get into the house."

"You are telling the story wrong," a deep voice from behind said snidely. Daphne turned and saw the portrait of a thin man dressed in black robes holding the lead of a sleeping greyhound. He looked rather menacing and she was reminded that she never cared much for that painting.

"I am certainly not," the lady scoffed, offended.

"I will tell the story," the thin man asserted. "It was just before you were born, Daphne. Your mother sat in this very room late one night when a knock came at the door. Delphinia, your aunt, entered frantically, shivering and soaked to the bone. She had to speak with your mother; had to ask for her help."

"Why?" Daphne asked impatiently.

The thin man scowled, clearly not wanting to be interrupted. "As I was saying, your aunt needed help. The Dark Lord had found her out as a spy for Dumbledore and she had barely escaped with her life before coming to your mother. But your mother would not help her."

"Your mother flatly refused," the lady exclaimed. "There was too much ill will between them after the falling out."

"What falling out?"

"I do not know much--"

"Clearly," the thin man said frostily.

"Careful, Mercurius. Or I'll tell Eurydice that you were the one who let the secret out."

The thin man was undeterred. "Delphinia Thorpe was as common as her sister."

The lady was not amused by the comment. "Mind your manners, Mercurius," she admonished. "I don't have to remind you of your own questionable origins."

This shut him up right quick. He scowled and grabbed at the lead of the greyhound with a yank, causing the dog to yelp. Skulking out of view, the dog followed reluctantly behind.

"Pay him no mind. He is lamentably one of the more irascible Gordons," the lady said exasperatedly.

"Why did he call my mother common?"

"He's just thinks he is so superior," she replied dismissively before continuing with her story. "So where was I? Oh yes. Like I said, I only know a little, just what I overheard. Neither your mother nor her parents were too particularly pleased with Delphinia's involvement with the Dark Lord."

"The Death Eaters tracked Delphinia down and killed both her and my grandparents?"

"Yes, dearie. I am afraid so."

Daphne was getting somewhere. The discovery of eyewitnesses of that night was an unexpected breakthrough.

"You know who you should talk to?" the lady in the painting offered. "There's a portrait upstairs in the spare room at the end of the hall that came from Thornridge House when it was cleared out after the deaths. She would be able to tell you about Delphinia."

Daphne was familiar with the painting, but had no idea that the portrait once belonged to the Thorpes. So many of the paintings and furnishings in the home were inherited from the Gordon family. "Cheers," she replied excitedly before asking, "By the way, how come you never told me this before?"

The lady in the painting smiled and said, "No one ever thinks to ask a portrait what secrets she keeps."

Daphne thanked the painting again and tiptoed out of the room to head upstairs. Her father's office door was still shut when she crept by and she reckoned that he must have been working on something important to be up this late.

Once upstairs, she lit a candle and made her way to the spare room at the end of the hall. The light was enough to illuminate the back wall where she knew she would find the portrait of a woman in a red silk dress. And as she got closer, she could see the heavy rise and fall of the woman's chest signaling a deep sleep. Daphne hated to wake her, but she couldn't wait.

"Hello," she whispered as she tapped the canvas gently.

The woman in red stirred and slowly opened her eyes. "Who's there," she asked sleepily. Daphne was surprised that she had never noticed before that the woman looked a lot like her mother.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late."

"Oh Daphne, is that you? You have grown so much. It has been so long since I've seen you."

"The lady in the portrait downstairs over the fireplace said that you once hung in my grandparents' house?"

The woman smiled with heavy lidded eyes. "Yes, I did. I am Valeria Thorpe, your great-great-grandmother."

Daphne had no idea. "Can you tell me anything about Delphinia, my aunt?"

Valeria gave her a curious look. "She broke your parents' hearts when she joined the Death Eaters," she said woefully before adding, "The Thorpes were artists, scholars, and philosophers. Not vulgar political extremists."

"What was she like?"

"Very clever and vivacious. That was before she started dabbling in the Dark Arts. Your mother too--both energetic. Oh but your poor aunt. She came under the influence of some dreadful people and got her and her parents killed for it. Your mother was never the same since," she tutted.

Daphne had never heard the word "energetic" used to describe her mum. Had her mother become such a different person after the death of her family? "Did you witness Delphinia's death?" Daphne dared to ask.

Valeria cringed, but spoke slowly and calmly. "No, I did not. But your grandparents were upstairs at the time and they did not have a chance to escape. I hung on the wall in the stairwell and I saw a man charge past me. Oh it was terrible. Your grandfather, Gerard, tried to protect your grandmother, but they were both killed instantly."

Daphne was surprised to feel a tear run down her cheek--it was rather overwhelming to think of her grandparent's final moments, especially since she had never met them. The whole weight of the last four months came crashing down on her. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling rather silly crying in front of a painting. "I just never knew. I still don't understand why my parents never told me."

"There, there," Valeria said soothingly. "It is late. You should be in bed."

Daphne wiped her cheek with her hand and nodded in agreement. She thanked the painting before creeping out of the room back and back to her bedroom. Putting out the candle, she fell wearily into bed and fell asleep in her clothes.

The house was quite still when she woke the next morning. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly remembered that she was not in her bed in Slytherin as her room came into focus. When she went downstairs in search of breakfast, she learned that her father had gone to New York for a quick trip. "But it's Christmas Eve!" Daphne protested groggily as she sat at the kitchen table with her mother. Minnie the house elf buzzed around them as she prepared her breakfast in the long stone room.

Eurydice took a sip of tea and nodded apologetically. "I know. He'll be back tonight. Oh and I am leaving soon to go to London for the last of the shopping."

Daphne had to stop herself from choking on her tea as she quickly realized that this was a very good stroke of luck. With both her mother and father gone, she would have the chance to search the house uninterrupted. She tried to not look too excited.

"You'll be all right. Minnie's here if you need anything," her mother said with a thin smile as she rose to gather her things--cloak, handbag full of galleons, and a list written of a small sheaf of parchment. She gave her daughter a kiss on the head before heading out of the kitchen for the back entrance.

With her mother gone, Daphne turned her attention to the house elf that was making a plate of eggs and toast appear in front of her. "Now, Minnie," she warned the house elf as she took a bite of toast. "You can't say anything to Mum about what I'm going to get up to today."

The house elf looked immediately torn, as if she was wrestling with conflicting loyalties. "Yes, little miss," she squeaked, wringing her thin hands nervously.

Daphne finished her breakfast and then hastily headed upstairs. She went straight for the portrait of Valeria Thorpe. "It's me again," she said and the portrait smiled.

"Oh, good morning. I hope you slept well."

"If you don't mind, I have another question to ask. Do you happen to know what happen to the rest of the things in Thornridge House? Other paintings?"

Valeria Thorpe looked wistful. "Some of it was divided up among other family members, but most of it came back here after the deaths. I know for a fact that your mother put the remainder of it in the attic."

"Oh, the attic!" she found herself exclaiming aloud. How could she have been so dim to have not thought of it before? The only time Daphne had even been up there, she remembered seeing the space jammed with stacks of boxes and sheet covered furniture. Daphne thanked the portrait yet again for its invaluable information and scrambled for the hallway. She retrieved a lantern from a closet before heading to the attic stairs. Minnie had joined her and was simpering next to her leg.

"Going into the attic?" she squeaked. "Mistress will not be pleased."

"Remember what I said in the kitchen," Daphne snapped as began to ascend the old wooden steps, lantern swinging from her hand. "You cannot tell Mum or Dad. If that is too much to ask, you can just clear off."

The house elf's bulbous eyes darted anxiously and she looked as though she were about to say something when she suddenly disapparated with a crack, leaving Daphne to get on with it. Now alone, she proceeded up the staircase and to the door with a sort of ancient looking lock and handle. She tried the door--it was unlocked.

"That was rather easy," she remarked under her breath. Daphne pushed open the door and was hit by the stagnant smell of a room that hadn't been opened in years. Though dark expect for a few streaks of sunlight coming through a blocked dormer, she could tell from her immediate surroundings that everything was covered in a layer of dust.

Daphne thrust the lantern forward, the warm glow revealing the true vastness of the attic. It looked as though the room had been carelessly packed with the contents of an entire house. She quickly recognized the outlines of a dozen or so trunks balanced haphazardly on each other. Books upon books lined the perimeter of the room hinting that the contents of once impressive library lay stacked before her. Interspersed around the trunks and books were pieces of furniture--chairs, tables, clocks, and cabinets.

She didn't know where to start. It easily could take her a week to fully go through everything. Perhaps the trunks, she thought as she slid deftly between a secretary and a headboard. Opening the first one she could find, she began to sort aimlessly through its contents. She found stacks of parchment containing notes and old owl post with dates going back thirty years. The second trunk was no different than the first one and the third was filled with old Hogwarts uniforms and a Ravenclaw quidditch robe. Continuing on, the morning slipped by at an alarming rate and by lunchtime a mental portrait of her grandparent's lives had formed. Frustratingly enough, family photographs continued to elude her.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Minnie had joined her and hovered anxiously over as Daphne sat on the floor. "What is it?" she asked curtly when she got tired of having the elf watch her.

"Miss, you wants to be looking elsewhere," Minnie said as she wrung her hands, her voice as high as ever.

"Elsewhere?" Daphne asked as she put down some old financial papers. "I'm looking for photos, Minnie. Do you know where they are?"

The same nervous look that the house elf had shown earlier in the kitchen returned. "Yes, they are on the mistress's wardrobe."

Her heart leapt and she practically wanted to kiss Minnie with joy. "Show me," Daphne demanded as she stood up and brushed the dust from her clothes. The house elf moved quickly from the attic, down the stairs, and to the floor below. Soon they were entering her parent's bedroom and Minnie led her to the large ornate wardrobe that held her mother's clothes. The house elf pointed to the very top and as she did so, a large box--too high up to notice--began to levitate towards them. It landed at Daphne's feet with a small thud.

Kneeling down, she eagerly removed the plain looking lid to reveal a jumbled assortment of photographs--some colored and some black and white. Daphne couldn't help by feel that she had struck gold. She immediately recognized the moving couple in one of the photographs and stared at the image of her grandmother and grandfather, smiling and waving. It must have been taken forty years ago, judging on the fact that her grandmother was pregnant. She studied their faces intently having never seen them in their youth. The one photograph she had seen before was taken when they were much older.

Minnie watched her over her shoulder as Daphne dumped the contents of the box onto the plush oriental rug and began to go through them excitedly. What caught her eye first was the unfamiliar image, yet familiar image of a dark blonde haired teenager in a Hogwarts uniform. Next to her, the brown haired young woman was unmistakably her mother. The one thing that was about as alien as the girl standing next to her was the smile on her mum's face--Daphne couldn't remember the last time she saw her mum smile like that. Slipping the photograph in her pocket, she moved on to the other images.

Sitting there for what seemed like forever, she went through photograph after photograph--Delphinia and Mum on holiday; Delphinia and Mum with some unknown family members; Delphinia as a baby. The more she came across, the more Delphinia Thorpe came back to life and the more Daphne began to wonder just how a rather normal looking young woman could have gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters. This very thought was so pervasive, that she didn't even hear notice that her mother had returned home from Diagon Alley.

The sudden sound of footsteps on the wooden staircase signaled that it was too late to hide. Daphne could have scrambled in that brief moment, but the weight of fifteen years worth of lies made her mind heady with rage.

"What on earth," came her mother's gasp from the doorway. The parcels that she carried tumbled out of her arms with a bang. "What do you think you are doing?"

"What does it look like I am doing?" Daphne answered dryly and looked her mother straight in the eye. "I'm going through your things."

Her mother stumbled over the Christmas packages and into the room to where Daphne had spread out the photos. "Put those down!" she demanded as she yanked the photograph out of Daphne's hand, mouth open with shock. "How dare you!"

A well of sudden anger rose up within Daphne. She had never felt this recklessly angry before. "No, Mum! How dare you!"

Her mother stared at her as if she had been slapped.

"How long, Mum?" she challenged as she took a handful of photographs and threw them at her mother's feet. "How long till you were going to tell me, huh? I'm fifteen bloody years old and you never told me that you had a sister!"

Shaking, her mother remained speechless as she bent down to gather the photographs back into their box.

"How long were you waiting to tell me, Mum?" Daphne demanded again.

"You're too young to understand," came her mother's shrill reply.

"Too young to understand?" Daphne blinked in disbelief. "Do you know what it is like to be in Slytherin when you are related to a woman who betrayed the Dark Lord? Don't tell me I'm too young to understand!"

Her mother knelt pitifully on the floor and clutched at a couple of photographs. Her voice broke as she said, "Daphne, I--"

"What? Is this when you are going to apologize for lying to me for my whole life? That my grandparent's were murdered by Death Eaters?

Her mother got up from the floor, saying nothing. Instead she gazed distractedly upon a photo of herself and Delphinia playing in a sun lit garden. "How did you find out?" she asked quietly without looking up.

"Draco Malfoy cornered me in the hallway," Daphne replied snidely, "because he wants me to swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. When I told him to shove off, he called me a blood traitor who deserves to die like my, and I quote, 'treacherous aunt'."

Daphne's mother seemed to stiffen at the mention of Lucius Malfoy's son.

"Since Marion informs me," she continued, "that Auntie Stella is not the treacherous woman in question, nor Auntie Miranda, I had to ask around to find out that, surprise, my mum has a sister. So you can imagine my anger at finding this out from Draco Malfoy and not from you or Dad."

Walking over to the nearby bed, her mother sat down on the edge. "Daphne, I didn't want you to find out like this," she said quietly and with sincerity.

"Well, it's too late. What did you expect? Everyone in Slytherin knows. Marion even knows! It was just a matter of time before I found out."

"Of course," her mother mumbled to herself. "Lucius would have told Draco who would have then told everyone else."

Daphne took a deep breath. "Mum, when I go back to Hogwarts in January, I'm going to ask Dumbledore to sort me out of Slytherin."

This seemed to snap Eurydice out of her daze. "You what?" she asked sharply as she rose and met Daphne over the pile of pictures.

"Mum, I refuse to go back there with those people!"

It was like she had uttered some unspeakable horror. "Daphne, you cannot!"

"But--"

"Your father will forbid it! I don't expect you to understand, but Gordons get sorted into Slytherin. It is the way things are."

"How can you say that?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm miserable there!"

"Daphne, this is my final word on the matter. Your father won't say anything different."

"He's in bloody New York, remember!" she shouted as she stormed out of the room to her own where she promptly slammed the door and flung herself on the bed. Blood pounding in her ears, she brimmed with anger. Daphne could only think of one thing now--going to see Mark.