The hospital wing became the reluctant epicenter of yet another school-shaking scandal. Gilderoy Lockhart lay in a magically induced coma in a private ward, his mind being carefully probed by specialists from St. Mungo's at Dumbledore's urgent request. Daphne Greengrass was in a nearby bed, resting under a Calming Draught, her parents, a pair of stern, influential pure-bloods, having been summoned to the castle.
The full story emerged, pieced together from Daphne's tearful account to her Head of House and Professor Dumbledore. It was even uglier than Ariana had suspected. Lockhart's latest book, Year with the Yeti, had featured a daring tale of capturing the beast in a remote Tibetan ice cave. The story, Daphne tearfully explained, had been stolen, word for word, from a private journal belonging to her adventurous but reclusive uncle, a brilliant but unsung magi-zoologist. She had recognized the details immediately and, in a moment of youthful indignation, had confronted Lockhart after class.
Cornered and faced with irrefutable proof of his plagiarism, Lockhart's charm had vanished. He had lured her to his office under the pretense of discussing the "unfortunate coincidence," at which point he had dropped all pretense. He had admitted to his method of stealing stories and erasing memories. When Daphne had tried to leave, he had become aggressive, grabbing her arm.
It was at that moment, as he was raising his wand to obliterate her memory of the encounter, that Ariana had blasted the door off its hinges.
The Greengrass family was, to put it mildly, incandescent with rage. The full weight of their ancient and influential name came crashing down on the Ministry. Lockhart was not just a fraud; he was a criminal, a predator who had assaulted the daughter of a prominent pure-blood family. His career was not just over; it was annihilated.
In the days that followed, while the school buzzed with lurid rumors, a new social dynamic began to form. Daphne, once recovered, sought out Ariana and Hermione. She found them in their usual corner of the library. Tracey Davis stood a few paces behind her, a loyal and nervous shadow. Daphne did not approach with the usual Slytherin arrogance. She was humbled, her composure rebuilt but forever changed. She stood before them, her blue eyes clear and serious.
"I wanted to thank you," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Both of you. You didn't have to help me. I'm… we're Slytherins. You're Gryffindors. But you did. You saved me."
Hermione fidgeted, unused to such direct gratitude from a Slytherin. "Of course we did," she said. "He was going to hurt you."
Ariana simply gave a small, acknowledging nod. "It was the logical course of action."
"It was more than that," Daphne insisted. She took a deep breath. "My house… they're all talking about it. Some of them are angry you attacked a professor. Others are furious at what Lockhart did to a pure-blood. It's all about politics and blood status." She shook her head. "But you two… you just saw someone in trouble. That's different."
She looked from Ariana's calm, powerful face to Hermione's kind, intelligent one. "Tracey and I… we were wondering… if you would let us be your friends." The question was an offering, a political realignment disguised as a schoolgirl friendship. It was a Slytherin acknowledging that the power in their year did not reside with Malfoy's brutishness, but with the quiet, formidable strength of the two Gryffindor girls.
Ariana considered the request. An alliance with a politically astute pure-blood family like the Greengrasses was a valuable strategic asset. And more than that, she saw in Daphne a core of unexpected integrity. "Yes," Ariana said simply. "Friendship is an acceptable outcome."
And so, the duo became a quartet. It was an alliance that sent shockwaves through the established social order of Hogwarts. The sight of two Gryffindor girls and two Slytherin girls studying together at the same library table was unprecedented. When Daphne and Tracey began sitting with Ariana and Hermione at the Gryffindor table for meals, the Great Hall practically short-circuited.
The first time Draco Malfoy tried to approach their new, integrated group with a sneer on his face, he didn't even get to speak. Daphne, with a cold fire in her eyes, drew her own wand, the tip pointed squarely at his chest. "Take one more step, Malfoy," she said, her voice like ice, "and you'll find out what a real stinging hex feels like. Pester my friends again, and I'll make sure my father hears about how you're tarnishing the Slytherin name by behaving like a common thug."
Draco, faced with a threat from one of his own and a complete lack of fear, froze, paled, and retreated. He never bothered them again.
The end-of-year exams arrived, and the results reflected the new alliances. Ariana, unsurprisingly, took the top spot in their year with flawless scores. Hermione, her confidence now matching her intellect, was a hair's breadth behind her at number two.
Daphne Greengrass, already an excellent student, placed third. Tracey Davis, too, saw a massive improvement, coming in sixth.
And Neville Longbottom, armed with his new wand and a year of newfound confidence, turned in his best academic performance ever, scoring higher than both Harry and Ron, whose Quidditch focused year had seen their grades slip slightly.
The final end-of-year feast was a triumphant one for Gryffindor, their points from the Chamber of Secrets incident easily securing them the House Cup. As Dumbledore gave his final speech, he looked down at the Gryffindor table. He saw Harry, Ron, and Neville laughing, their friendship easy and strong. And he saw the quartet of girls—Ariana, Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey—a quiet, formidable powerhouse of Gryffindor courage and Slytherin ambition, all united under one banner of mutual respect.
He had never seen anything like it. The old house rivalries, for this small, powerful group, seemed to be melting away, replaced by something new, something stronger. He looked at Ariana, the calm, serene center of this new constellation, and he knew that the future of Hogwarts, and perhaps the entire wizarding world, was being quietly and irrevocably reshaped by the powerful, unexpected alliances of friendship.