Morning in the dungeons carried a different kind of silence.
It was not the peaceful quiet of early sunrise, nor the restless lull before a storm. It was something colder, heavier—like the stone itself was listening. The green glow of the Slytherin common room pulsed faintly through the tall windows, filtered by the dark waters of the Black Lake beyond.
Most students had already left.
Their voices, their laughter, their whispered schemes—all gone.
Only the occasional scratch of quills and the soft rustle of parchment remained, as a handful of seventh years lingered behind, more concerned with assignments than breakfast.
Helios sat alone near one of the stone pillars.
He leaned back slightly, one arm resting lazily against the carved surface, his posture relaxed in a way that was entirely deliberate. To anyone watching, he looked patient. Perhaps even indifferent.
He was neither.
Under normal circumstances, he would have already been in the Great Hall. He would have finished breakfast early, quietly observing the interactions between students, memorizing alliances, rivalries, and subtle power structures.
Information was always more valuable than gold.
But today, he waited.
For Daphne Greengrass.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he thought about it.
She had approached him earlier, composed and perfectly polite, offering to guide him through the dungeons. As a prefect, she had framed it as a responsibility—helping a new students adjust.
He had accepted.
Not because he needed guidance.
But because Daphne Greengrass did nothing without reason.
Time passed slowly.
One by one, the remaining students packed their things and left. The common room grew emptier with each passing minute, the silence stretching longer, deeper.
Helios did not move.
He simply waited.
Footsteps eventually echoed from the staircase.
Helios did not need to look to know who it was.
Daphne Greengrass entered the common room as if she owned it.
Her posture was flawless, her movements precise, her expression calm and unreadable. Every detail of her appearance was controlled, from the fall of her hair to the smooth line of her robes.
"The Ice Queen of Slytherin," Helios thought.
He remembered her well.
In another life.
In another time.
Daphne Greengrass had always been exactly what Slytherin valued most—composed, intelligent, and distant. She built walls around herself so perfectly that most never even realized they were there.
Almost no one ever got close.
Tracey Davis had been the exception.
Helios's eyes flickered briefly as the memory surfaced, then disappeared just as quickly.
Daphne approached him.
"Sorry for the delay," she said smoothly. "I was changing."
Helios rose to his feet, his expression calm.
A faint smile appeared.
"You were making sure most of the house had already left."
For the briefest moment, her expression shifted.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible.
But Helios saw it.
Then it was gone.
"You are more observant than I expected," Daphne replied, her tone even.
"I try."
She studied him for a second longer than necessary, then turned toward the exit.
"Shall we?"
Helios nodded and followed.
The corridors of the dungeons were nearly empty, their footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and ancient magic.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Daphne broke the silence.
"I wanted to know more about you," she said.
Helios glanced at her.
"About me?"
"Yes."
Her gaze remained forward as she walked.
"Where you studied. How you were educated. You are joining as a fifth year. That is not… common."
There was a slight pause before she continued.
"Are you certain you can manage the curriculum?"
Helios let out a quiet breath, something that might have been a soft laugh.
"I think I will survive."
Daphne inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the answer, though it clearly did not satisfy her.
She asked more questions after that.
They were all similar.
Carefully constructed.
Helios answered just enough to keep the conversation moving, but not enough to reveal anything of value.
It did not take long for him to notice the pattern.
Daphne Greengrass was not good at casual conversation.
She was trying.
That, in itself, was telling.
After a few more steps, Helios stopped walking.
Daphne continued forward for a moment before realizing he was no longer beside her. She paused, then turned back.
He was watching her.
"Stop."
The word was quiet, but firm.
Daphne frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"Stop circling the topic," Helios said.
His voice remained calm, but there was an edge beneath it now.
"What do you really want?"
Silence followed.
For the first time, Daphne did not have an immediate answer.
She looked at him, her sharp mind clearly working through possibilities, weighing risks and outcomes.
Helios said nothing.
He simply waited.
After a long moment, she exhaled softly.
"I need access," she said.
Helios did not interrupt.
"To the Black family's library."
There it was.
Daphne continued, her tone tightening slightly.
"I will not take anything. I only need to read."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "I am willing to offer something in return."
Helios raised an eyebrow.
"Something?"
Daphne met his gaze.
"Anything."
The corridor seemed to grow colder.
Helios studied her carefully, noting the tension in her shoulders, the slight stiffness in her posture. Her composure was still there, but it was no longer perfect.
There were cracks.
He smiled.
It was a kind smile.
"So," he said lightly, "you are looking for a cure."
Daphne's breath caught.
"For your sister."
The words hit their mark.
Her control slipped for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening just enough to betray her shock.
"How do you know that?" she asked.
Helios's expression did not change.
"I know many things."
It was not an answer.
It did not need to be.
Daphne stared at him, and for the first time, something raw flickered beneath her surface—hope, fear, desperation.
Helios turned and continued walking.
She followed immediately.
"There is nothing in the Black library that can cure her condition," he said calmly.
The words fell heavily between them.
Daphne's steps faltered.
It was not the first time she had heard that. He could see it in the way her shoulders stiffened, in the brief dimming of her eyes.
But this time, it felt different.
Because he spoke with certainty.
For a moment, she looked smaller.
Not physically.
But something within her seemed to shrink, as if a door had quietly closed.
Helios continued walking.
Then, as if the previous statement had meant nothing at all, he spoke again.
"But I know someone who can."
Daphne stopped.
"What?"
Her voice was barely audible.
Helios did not turn around.
He simply kept walking.
Daphne moved after him immediately, her pace faster now, her earlier composure replaced by something sharper, more urgent.
Hope had returned.
And hope was dangerous.
They reached the entrance to the Great Hall.
The noise hit them instantly—voices, laughter, the clatter of cutlery, the hum of hundreds of conversations blending into one overwhelming sound.
Daphne slowed slightly, expecting Helios to turn toward the Slytherin table.
He did not.
Without a glance in its direction, he walked straight past it.
Across the hall.
Toward Gryffindor.
Before she could follow, a hand caught her wrist.
"Daphne."
She turned sharply.
Tracey stood there, grinning like she had just witnessed something incredibly entertaining.
"Oh, this is interesting," Tracey said, her voice filled with amusement as she tugged Daphne back toward the Slytherin table.
"That was fast."
Daphne frowned.
"Let go."
Tracey leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"Already claiming the new boy?"
Daphne's expression hardened instantly.
"That is not what this is."
Tracey raised an eyebrow.
"I did not expect that from you," she teased.
"The Ice Queen of Slytherin, making moves before the term even started."
Daphne pulled her hand free, her irritation clear now.
"You are mistaken."
Tracey's grin widened.
"I think I am exactly right."
Daphne did not respond.
Instead, her gaze shifted across the hall.
To the Gryffindor table.
Helios had already taken a seat, blending into the chaos as if he belonged there.
As if he had always belonged there.
Daphne looked at him for a moment longer than she intended.
Then she turned away.
Tracey was still watching her, clearly waiting for a reaction.
She did not get one.
Because Daphne Greengrass was no longer paying attention to her surroundings.
Her mind was elsewhere.
Locked onto a single thought.
A cure.
And the boy who might be able to give it to her.
For the first time in a long while, Daphne allowed herself to feel something she had carefully suppressed.
Hope.
And she knew, with absolute certainty, that hope would come at a price.
The moment Helios stepped away from the Slytherin table, people noticed.
At first, it was subtle.
A pause in conversation.
A shift in attention that spread quietly, like ripples across still water.
Then more heads turned.
Because this was not something that happened.
Slytherins did not walk toward the Gryffindor table.
Not without purpose.
And certainly not with the quiet certainty Helios carried.
Forks slowed midway to mouths. Conversations dimmed. Even a cluster of Ravenclaws nearby turned, curiosity evident in their expressions.
He walked straight across the hall, his pace unhurried, his posture relaxed. There was no arrogance in his movements, no attempt to draw attention.
And yet—
He commanded it anyway.
He reached the Gryffindor table.
Rose sat there, halfway through her breakfast. Hermione was on one side of her, speaking quietly, while Ron occupied the other, already eating with the enthusiasm of someone who had no patience for interruptions. Neville sat nearby, focused on his own plate but glancing up as Helios approached.
Helios stopped beside them.
His gaze shifted to Hermione.
Then, simply—
"Scoot."
Hermione blinked, caught off guard.
"What?"
"Scoot," he repeated, just as calmly.
And before she could even think about it, Hermione found herself shifting slightly to the side.
Only after she moved did she seem to realize she had done so.
Helios took the seat immediately.
Right between Rose and Hermione.
The table went silent.
Several Gryffindor boys exchanged looks. A few of them straightened, as if preparing to say something, to object, to challenge.
But no one did.
Because there was one assumption that had already spread through the hall like wildfire.
Helios Black was Rose Potter's boyfriend.
And interfering in that—
Was not something most people were eager to attempt.
Except—
"Oi!"
Ron's voice cut through the quiet.
"This is the Gryffindor table."
Helios turned his head slightly, meeting Ron's gaze.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I didn't say it wasn't."
Ron frowned.
"Then why are you sitting here?"
Helios shrugged lightly, as if the answer were obvious.
"There's no rule against sitting at another table."
Ron opened his mouth, ready to argue—
Then stopped.
Because, frustratingly, that was true.
He did not like it.
Not one bit.
Helios did not press the matter.
Instead, he turned toward Rose.
"Are you angry with me?"
She looked at him, confusion flickering briefly in her eyes.
"For what?"
"For being in Slytherin."
The question was simple.
But there was something beneath it.
Rose blinked, then smiled softly.
"No," she said.
"Not at all."
She leaned back slightly, setting her fork down.
"The hat considered putting me in Slytherin too, when I first came here."
Helios raised an eyebrow.
"Did it?"
She nodded.
"I had to convince it to put me in Gryffindor."
There was a faint hint of amusement in her voice.
Then her gaze steadied.
"And I know you."
Helios watched her closely.
"You're not a Gryffindor."
There was no judgment in her tone.
"You're ambitious," she continued.
"You're clever."
"You think ahead."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"That's Slytherin."
Helios smiled in return.
More genuine.
There was something different about her.
The absence of the Horcrux had changed her. Not in a dramatic way, not in something obvious to most.
But in the small things.
In the clarity of her thoughts.
In the steadiness of her emotions.
She was no longer fighting something unseen within herself.
And because of that—
She was sharper.
Hermione shifted slightly beside them.
She had been listening carefully, observing more than speaking, as she often did.
Then, slowly, she joined the conversation.
"So," she said, turning toward Helios, "you're really a Slytherin."
Helios glanced at her.
"Seems that way."
Ron let out an exaggerated groan.
"Brilliant," he muttered. "Just what we needed."
Helios smirked faintly.
"Relax, Weasley."
"I'm not here to spy on you."
Ron muttered something under his breath, clearly unconvinced, but he did not argue further.
At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall opened again.
Professor McGonagall entered, carrying a stack of parchments.
Her presence shifted the atmosphere instantly.
Students straightened. Conversations turned practical. Attention moved from gossip to schedules.
"First years—keep track of your timetables," she called out as she moved between tables.
"Fifth years—this is your O.W.L. year. Do not fall behind."
She reached the Gryffindor table, handing out parchments one by one.
Rose took hers quickly, already scanning it.
Hermione did the same, her eyes moving rapidly as she absorbed every detail.
Helios looked across the hall.
Toward the Slytherin table.
Daphne Greengrass was already watching him.
She held up two folded parchments between her fingers.
Timetables.
One of them was clearly his.
She smiled.
Then she made a small gesture with her hand.
I have it.
Helios inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Then he returned his attention to his food, as though nothing had happened.
But it had.
And Rose had seen it.
Hermione had seen it too.
Hermione frowned slightly.
"That's… unusual."
Rose's eyes narrowed just a fraction.
"Daphne Greengrass doesn't smile like that."
Hermione nodded slowly.
"She barely smiles at all."
Rose glanced again toward the Slytherin table.
Daphne was still looking in Helios's direction.
Still smiling.
Something about it felt wrong.
Off.
"Something's not right," Rose murmured.
Hermione hesitated.
Then she spoke carefully.
"Maybe she's trying to impress him."
Rose froze.
It was subtle.
Barely noticeable.
But the shift was there.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Unpleasant.
Hermione continued, unaware of the effect her words were having.
"I mean… it wouldn't be surprising," she said. "He's new. He's powerful. He's—"
She stopped abruptly.
Realizing she was saying more than she should.
Rose looked down at her plate.
Her appetite had vanished.
She did not like the idea.
Not even a little.
The thought of Helios—
Being close to someone like Daphne Greengrass—
Did not sit well with her.
And she did not know why.
Breakfast ended gradually.
Students began to stand, gathering their things, preparing to leave for their first classes.
Helios rose from his seat.
Without a word, without looking back—
He walked away from the Gryffindor table.
The attention followed him again, quieter this time, more curious than shocked.
He crossed the hall.
Returned to Slytherin.
And sat down.
Right beside Daphne Greengrass.
Across the hall—
Rose watched.
Her expression was calm.
Unreadable.
Hermione watched as well.
Neither of them spoke.
But both of them felt it.
That same quiet, growing discomfort.
As Daphne Greengrass leaned closer, whispering something meant only for Helios.
And for reasons neither of them could quite explain—
It felt like a line had just been crossed.
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