HP: The Magical Gamer [Chapter 116: Rank 1! ] (Patreon)

"You are now tutoring Astoria?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry and his friends, including Tracey and Daphne, were on their way to the Charms class after breakfast. They were going together since both the houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin, had the same class.

Daphne and Harry were walking a little behind their group, softly conversing with each other. Tracey and Iris were busy with their own talks at the head of the group, the same as Neville and Hermione, to bother them or listen in to their conversation.

"I am. Astoria wants the rank first. And I will do my best to give her that." Harry answered with a soft smile, his expression turning amused at the thought of her younger sister.

Daphne nodded, the corners of her mouth turning up. "Good."

"She wants to shove your bitchy face on the bulletin board where her name would be beside number 1." chuckled Harry.

Daphne's eyes narrowed, but her tiny smile still remained. "We will see."

They fell silent after that, getting lost in their own thoughts. Surprisingly, Daphne's thoughts revolved around the very same boy who was walking beside her.

He has changed, she thought. The mischievous gleam in his eyes had disappeared. She still remembered the days when he would be with Tracey and the two loons would concoct a prank or cause havoc just for giggles and laughter.

She could still recall the time when there was a perpetual grin etched on his face. The times when he tried to annoy everyone for fun.

He did not grin enough anymore.

He smiled. Oh he smiled a lot nowadays. Sometimes with a hint of mischief, reminding her of the older days, but most of the time his smiles were gentle and affectionate.

His smiles were far more frequent than his grins, she had noticed.

She had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, his smiles filled her up with tingly warmth and unbridled joy, but she also missed his carefree and playful grins.

She guessed he had grown. There was an air of maturity around him which there wasn't before. And the catalyst for this change was the near death of Iris.

A fiery rage suddenly bubbled inside her stomach like a dragon's roar. It was so cruel and devastating that she wouldn't have batted an eye in killing someone.

She suppressed the anger.

Her face remained blank throughout this.

Voldemort. The man who killed the child in her dear friend. The man who almost killed Iris, her sister all in but blood.

The monster whose men took away her father's sanity. She hated him. Then again, Voldemort wasn't anything special. She hated everyone with few exceptions.

'Soon, I will be powerful. Soon, I will have my wings and untold strength. Then I will kill Voldemort and free Harry from his heavy destiny. Soon, but not now. Maybe next year.'

Harry bumped his shoulder against her and looked at her in concern. "Are you okay?"

She knew her expression was still the same, placid and emotionless. And yet he knew what she was feeling. It made her happy although she didn't know why.

She nodded. "I am fine."

He gave her a gentle smile, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze, their fingers intertwining firmly.

As he tried to pull back his hand, she resisted and tightened her hold, wordlessly insisting him to keep his grasp. Harry's eyebrows arched, but he didn't say anything and held her arm as they walked.

She knew she was blushing. Harry though just smiled and swung their joined hands between them.

She wished he would tease her for her flustered face. She wished he would grin. The old Harry would have done that. But now he just smiled tenderly and held her hand until they reached the class.

She decided that his smiles weren't too bad either.

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She woke up to find herself alone in the bed. Tom must be out in the castle or in the throne room. She heaved a weary sigh, now having understood why he spent so little time in her room.

Being in here made him feel inadequate. It made him realise how powerless he was that he couldn't bring his wife out of her cell.

When he had told her everything, when he had revealed that he wasn't her jailer, but just another prisoner, she hadn't known how to react. 

All her life, she had thought that Tom was the one who bound her to this room. That he was the one who tore off her wings and locked her in this ostentatious cage.

And that turned out to be false.

All her hate and bitter feelings shifted from Tom to the Creator. She hated the Ruler so fiercely that her own eyes turned blood red like her husband's whenever she thought about him.

Surprisingly, she had never really hated Tom as much as she should have. That always was so mysterious and confusing to her.

Why wasn't she able to hate her captor? Why didn't she ever try to kill him or hurt him? She never knew the answer to these simple questions. But now she finally got it.

He was her. Tom was the other part of her soul. She never was meant to hate him. She was fated to love him and cherish him just like he did to her.

It didn't matter that she could never get out of this room. It didn't matter that her dreams would never come true. She didn't care that she would never breathe in the fresh air or feel the Sun's warm light on her skin or get to jump in the beautiful sea. 

All these wishes didn't matter.

She had Tom. And that was enough. More than enough if she was honest. He had chosen her over his freedom.

He had chosen her over his own visions and desires. She could do the same. She would do the same. She would choose him over everything else.