HP: DnD Chapter 19

Chapter 19: An Unexpected Interaction 

"Ars Goetia."

Damien muttered, staring at the book as he lay on the bed.

‘What are you?’

He knew the book was more than just magical, but its true nature still eluded him. Even the name remained a mystery, something that lingered in the back of his mind, demanding answers he couldn’t yet comprehend.

‘And what did Dantalion mean by humans not being meant for the dungeon?’ The thought confused him. ‘It took me there, and the same with Merlin and Solomon. They were humans too, and it still took them to the dungeon.’

He just couldn't make sense of what the Duke of Hell had meant. He also wondered how a book could contain so much magic — enough to act as both a portal and a status template, weaving together elements that defied reason and understanding.

‘Who created you?’

It baffled him that someone had crafted this book with such immense power, its very existence was almost unbelievable.

‘What kind of monster must that person have been?’

In the end, he realized these were questions with no easy answers — questions he likely wouldn't find answers to anytime soon, not without greater understanding.

With a sigh, a lingering headache, and the remains of exhaustion weighing on him, he finally got off the bed. Carefully setting the book aside, he decided to go out for breakfast, hoping to clear his mind.

He was ravenous. While returning to the original world had healed his injuries and physical exhaustion, it hadn't taken away his hunger or mental fatigue.

It was barely 7:30 in the morning, but Damien felt both tired and hungry, a strange mixture of physical weariness and the gnawing need for food.

As he walked toward the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but notice how much stronger he had become. Just days ago, he had been considered one of the weakest magic users in his class — if not the weakest. Now, he was confident he could even take on Harry, all thanks to his stats alone, without even tapping into the skills he had acquired.

‘Maybe I should test my magic a little... I just need to find the right partner for it.’

That, however, was easier said than done. He had no expectations from his classmates. He knew that if he seriously cast even a single spell, there was a high chance someone could end up seriously hurt — or worse.

He couldn't challenge his upperclassmen either. Hogwarts had strict rules against seniors fighting juniors, with only rare exceptions in cases of familial feuds or insults that the Ministry handled.

‘But can I use that to fight someone?’ Absolutely not.

He was looking for sparring partners, not enemies.

‘Then who?’ He mused, but no answer came.

With a defeated look, he found himself sitting at the school cafeteria, the bustling noise of the students around him a sharp contrast to his swirling thoughts.

The early morning soup wasn’t to his taste, but it was the only option. The menu was fixed, and students had to eat what was provided, no exceptions.

Damien found this somewhat annoying.

‘Whatever happened to the magical feasts from the Sorting Ceremony?’

The food during the Sorting Ceremony had been divine and endless. Everything one could imagine, from simple mashed potatoes to exquisite Beef Wellington — it had all been available, a feast for the ages.

But now? Soup.

“You don't seem to enjoy breakfast.”

The voice came out of nowhere, and from someone he hadn't expected.

“I… am just not a fan of soup,” Damien responded, still unsure why this person was speaking to him.

“Understandable. I, too, prefer eggs and toast over soup in the morning.” The voice continued, making Damien look up in surprise. “Although, once in a while, I do enjoy a full British breakfast. But it’s not something I crave every day.”

‘Not to mention the sheer portion of food in a full English breakfast,’ Damien thought, though he didn’t say it aloud. Instead, he asked, “But what are you doing here, Miss Greengrass?”

Yes, the person who had just commented on her breakfast preferences was none other than Daphne Greengrass — the heiress of the Greengrass family, the blonde princess of Slytherin.

“Breakfast. Can’t I?” she responded, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

“You certainly can,” Damien said, “but I’ve never seen you sit at this side of the table before.”

Daphne had always been seated at the Slytherin table, but always alone. Despite her apparent indifference to socializing with her fellow Slytherins, she didn’t interact with students from other houses either.

She was someone most people thought twice before approaching. Her icy demeanor and lack of interest in small talk made her unapproachable. Many Muggle-borns found her distant because she was a pureblood, while pureblood students considered her stuck-up.

That was why she sat alone.

Admired, but solitary — except for the occasional exchange of words with a select few, Damien included.

‘This is the first time she’s said so much to me,’ Damien thought, intrigued by the sudden change.

He didn’t mind it, though. While it was a little nerve-wracking that the usually aloof heiress was talking so freely with him, he knew it was better to stay on her good side than risk making an enemy of her.

Dealing with one pureblood family’s ire was enough trouble. Making enemies with two would be unwise.

“I just never had a reason to move from my usual place,” Daphne said, causing Damien to respond almost immediately.

“You do now—?” He immediately regretted the question. It sounded too forward, too rude.

“Yes,” Daphne interrupted, not seeming to mind. She pointed toward the Slytherin table. “Someone spilled their soup at my spot, and I don’t see any free space anywhere else.”

Damien couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, noticing that there were plenty of empty spots at the Slytherin table.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still confused.

“Those seats are taken by other students,” Daphne answered, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to cause trouble by sitting there.”

‘That makes sense,’ Damien thought. ‘Slytherin students would rather curse you than make room for you.’

“So, would you like to sit here then?” he asked.

Daphne nodded slowly, surprisingly embarrassed. She had never spoken so much to anyone, let alone asked to share a table. It felt strange to her, but she appreciated the gesture.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she sat beside him.

Despite sitting together, neither of them touched the soup. They both stared at the bland-looking bowl, neither interested in eating it.

“I think I’ll skip this,” Damien finally said, and Daphne nodded in agreement.

“I’ll wait for lunch,” she said, pushing the soup aside.

They both glanced at the soup, then at each other, before breaking into small chuckles.

“Ah, so annoying,” Damien muttered. “Why can’t we have something better for breakfast?”

“I’d rather have something filling,” Daphne sighed, looking more comfortable now. “If not filling, then at least pleasant to taste and smell.”

“Unfortunately, not everyone shares that sentiment,” Damien replied, looking around. Most of the other students were eating the soup like it was the best thing they’d ever had.

“If you want,” Daphne offered, disgusted by the sight, “I’ve got some macaroons from yesterday. We can have those instead.”

Damien blinked in surprise, but his hunger was too great to refuse.

“I’d love that,” he said. “But are you sure it’s okay? Don’t you usually save them for yourself?”

“It’s fine,” she said, smiling faintly. “I get those often. Besides, you’ve shared with me before.”

“I have?” Damien was surprised, not recalling anything of the sort.

Daphne nodded. “During our first-year Potions class. Weasley’s cauldron exploded, and your notes helped me out when my book got ruined.”

‘Ah,’ Damien thought. ‘That’s right. I did help her back then, though I didn’t realize it was her.’ He'd been trying to make friends with everyone, and it made sense now why he hadn’t remembered it.

“What happened?” Daphne asked. “After that, you stopped talking to anyone and didn’t even sit with your usual group.”

Damien had his reasons for that, reasons he wasn’t eager to share. He had forced himself to forget those days.

‘Maybe Daphne isn’t like Draco and Pansy after all,’ he mused. ‘Being a Slytherin isn’t enough to make you a narcissist.’

“Well, we don’t have much time before classes,” Daphne said. “Let’s head to the outside grounds. I’ll bring the macaroons there. We can eat in peace without a crowd.”

“That sounds good,” Damien agreed.

Daphne, giving him another one of her rare smiles, hurried to her room to fetch the cookies.

Damien watched her go, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘Why can’t all Slytherins be like her?’