The grey heir

The morning sun bathed the Great Hall in soft gold, warming the stone floor and casting a glow across the enchanted ceiling. The usual breakfast chatter filled the air—laughter, clinking dishes, and the occasional flurry of feathers as owls swept through with letters and parcels.

Harry sat quietly at the Slytherin table, sipping his pumpkin juice with the calm detachment of someone deep in thought.

Across from him, Daphne Greengrass watched him with that same unreadable look she often wore. But today, there was a touch more curiosity behind her eyes.

"You didn't really tell me why Dumbledore summoned you," she said, her voice low but sharp with intent.

Harry didn't look surprised. "Didn't I?"

"No," she replied coolly. "You deflected. Nicely, I'll admit. But I'm not Ron Weasley."

Harry cracked the faintest of smiles. "That much is obvious."

Daphne didn't laugh. "So?"

Harry paused, then said evenly, "He asked about school. How I'm adjusting. If I need anything. He offered lemon drops."

"That's what he said. I asked what he wanted."

Harry's green eyes narrowed slightly. "He wanted to see if I'm the boy he expected."

"And are you?" she asked softly.

Harry leaned back in his seat, letting the question hang there. "No. I don't think I ever was."

Daphne's brow arched, but she didn't press. Instead, she said, "My father always told me Dumbledore doesn't make moves without reasons. He smiles like a grandfather, but he plans like a general. He's not above controlling things if he thinks it serves the 'greater good.'"

"I'm beginning to realize that," Harry said, his voice cool but thoughtful.

"You're not what he wants you to be," Daphne said, watching him carefully. "You hide more than most people notice. But he notices. And he's worried."

Harry gave a short, humorless laugh. "He should be."

Daphne blinked. "That's an interesting thing to admit."

"I didn't say why," Harry said smoothly.

A silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant laughter of a group of second-years.

Then Daphne said, "I don't think you're dangerous, Harry. But I think you've seen danger. And lived through it."

Harry looked at her, his expression unreadable for a long moment. "We all have scars, Daphne. Some just don't show."

She studied him. "I'm trying to understand who you really are."

Harry's voice softened. "And if I don't know yet?"

"Then we'll figure it out," she said simply. "As long as you're honest with me."

A beat passed. Harry gave her a slow nod. "I'll try."

The bell rang overhead, cutting through the moment.

Students rose from their benches, books and bags clutched under arms, voices rising with the bustle of movement.

Daphne stood gracefully, adjusting her green-lined robes. "I'll see you in Charms."

Harry rose beside her, falling into step. As they walked, she glanced sideways at him. "By the way… the whole mysterious-and-brooding thing? You're very good at it."

Harry grinned faintly. "Years of practice."