"I was a prefect at Hogwarts. Did I ever tell you that?" He waited for Daphne to shake her head no before continuing.

"I was on patrol in my fifth year and came across a first-year Gryffindor who was also a pureblood. It was only a few days into term. He'd gotten lost on his way back from the library and was out after curfew by accident. He was being harassed and threatened by three Slytherin seventh-year students. Typical pureblood bullying: three against one...NEWT level experience against someone who had literally just learned Lumos. Embarrassing." He paused to take another drink of coffee.

"They were calling him a 'blood traitor' and making fun of his parents telling him they were going to teach him a lesson...all the standard insults. I could tell he was terrified but he just stood his ground with his wand pointed at them. His arm was shaking...he hadn't learned any spells that could help but he wasn't giving in. He waited until they were done, looked them right in the eye and...I'll never forget it...said 'well at least I'm not an idiot.'"

Her father paused and smiled before continuing.

"None of them had noticed I was there and before he had said that I honestly was not sure what to do. I was on one of my first patrols ever and I knew that I should punish them but they were seventh years from my own house. I knew what I should do but I was scared to do it. Once he said that I realized how brave he was and what a coward I was being. I couldn't help it...I just started laughing. I eventually took forty points from my own house and gave each a week's worth of detention. They were so angry with me and I heard about it for weeks after but I didn't care. If he could stand up to them then so could I. They were the idiots after all."

Daphne laughed despite herself, so proud of her then fifteen-year-old father. Her father's constant mantra to Astoria and her since she was a child was "don't be an idiot." She had never considered its origin but now she knew where it came from. A thought suddenly struck her. "Was it Harry's dad?"

Her father shook his head 'no' and continued. "Not James Potter but you are close...I believe his son is also a Gryffindor in your year...his name was Frank Longbottom."

"Anyway...I walked Frank back to Gryffindor and I think I became a bit of a hero to him. He always made a point of smiling and waving to me when he saw me and we became genuine friends despite the four-year age difference. We stayed in touch even after I was done with Hogwarts and really reconnected after he graduated...meeting every month or so to catch up."

Her father made to continue but his voice caught in his throat as his emotions seemed to get the better of him. Her mother placed a hand on his arm and squeezed reassuringly. The simple act seemed to be enough as he gathered himself and continued.

"I'm not sure when it changed but at some point, the hero worship transferred from Frank to me. He became an Auror right out of school and was in a secret organization dedicated to fighting You Know Who. Whenever we'd meet he would mention how much my family's public support would help the cause and I always said I would think about it. Eventually, he gave up asking. He never said anything but I could tell how disappointed he was with me. Then the Potter miracle happened. Your mother and I were so relieved and I patted myself on the back for being smart enough to stay out of it. We didn't know the Potters very well and to my shame, my joy at the war being over made their deaths almost an afterthought."

Her father paused again and Daphne was struck by how old her father suddenly looked.

"This all happened on October 31st and we were supposed to meet Frank and his wife Alice for lunch on November 2nd. I could not wait for that lunch to celebrate with them and have the chance to talk about anything but the war again. But they never showed up."

Daphne had never seen her father cry but she could tell he was precipitously close. She had never seen him look so lost...so vulnerable. Whatever she had expected out of this discussion it was not this. She wondered if she should say something to break the silence when her mother took over the story.

"Frank and his wife were attacked by death eaters the day after You Know Who was defeated. They were angry and took it out on the Longbottoms because they publicly defied You Know Who. They tortured them to insanity using the Cruciatus curse in front of their son Neville. It was senseless and horrific...the ultimate act of cowardice. They are still alive at St. Mungo's but their minds are gone."

Suddenly something clicked for Daphne. "That's where you go every year on November 2nd...St. Mungo's."

Her mother waited to see if her father would reply. When he remained silent she continued. "We always go to Florean Fortescue's first. Alice always had a bit of a sweet tooth and it was her favorite place for us to meet as couples...then we visit them at the hospital."

Daphne immediately thought about Neville Longbottom and the insults he had absorbed from her housemates and most especially from Professor Snape over the years. She vaguely wondered if it was possible to be resorted as a sixth year.

Her father suddenly joined back in the conversation...the steel and resolve having returned to his voice. "You promise you will be smart and do your best to avoid any risks?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

"And you will keep Astoria out of this as well?"

"Absolutely," she answered with a nod.

"Good. Now tell me how your mother and I can help."

The next two hours were spent with Daphne detailing the conversations she had had so far with Harry, purposely avoiding anything she thought Harry may not want to be shared. They had finished working out the proper wording for the blood oath when her father spoke.

"Excellent. Now please tell me why I spent all day yesterday emptying a warehouse."

Daphne smiled and made a mental note to save her parents' reactions as a Pensieve memory later. "If all goes well two house elves will be delivering a basilisk to you tonight."

"You're serious?"

"Yes sir."

"How large?"

"About fifty feet."

"You've seen it?"

"Yes sir."

"And it's dead how?"

"Harry killed it. When he was twelve. With the Sword of Gryffindor."

"Right," her father muttered before quickly leaving the room. Her mother remained silent, processing Daphne's news. Her father eventually returned with a bottle of firewhisky and three glasses. Daphne watched as he poured two glasses and her parents quickly downed the contents.

"What are the agreed-upon terms?"

"We keep 30% of the net revenue after expenses of harvesting and distribution."

Her mother interjected. "That is very generous of Mr. Potter given that he actually killed it." She shook her head disbelievingly before continuing. "Are you taking advantage of the situation Daphne?"

Daphne shook her head and decided not to share that the family's original stake was 60% before she talked Harry down. "Harry is aware...he agreed to the higher percentage as a gesture of goodwill for helping with You Know Who."

Her mother continued. "How long have you been talking to Mr. Potter?

The question confused Daphne but she answered. "Since last Sunday."

"Based on your expression when talking about the boy you seem to have grown quite fond of him."

Daphne purposely looked down at the table as she answered. "What you shared about the Longbottoms...why you admired them...it's the same reason why I need to help Harry. He has been through so much...there is so much that I haven't shared that he has done...so many times he has fought when he had no chance of success but did it anyway. He's brilliant but for some reason still thinks he's an idiot. It only makes him more brilliant."

She looked up to see both of her parents smiling back at her and her heart lightened...the knot in her stomach long gone and forgotten. Her father waited for his wife's nod of approval before speaking.

"Please tell Mr. Potter that we will be happy to help him in any way we can. If we are required to take a blood oath as well then we are both more than willing."

Daphne quickly wiped away the tears that were forming as she nodded her thanks. Her parents were brilliant.

Her father then refilled the two glasses and filled the third glass as well, handing it to Daphne with a smile. "Now that we've been properly brave let's talk more about this basilisk."