Headmistress Theodore Whitethorn looked like an older, distant cousin of Professor McGonagall, Harry noticed.
She was wearing a blue and red gown, with her white hair tied into a bun.
She also had a set of round glasses, similar to his own, over her dark brown eyes.
And that was it.
Harry remembered seeing Professor Dumbledore for the first time distinctly.
Yes, over the years, the Headmaster had changed physically, but he still held the air of authority around him in the same way he had before.
This authority was not to impose dominance, though.
Contrarily, it made you feel… safe.
Something to put your trust into. Blindly.
The Headmistress of Ilvermorny School also possessed a similar authority, but it paled in comparison to Professor Dumbledore's.
If that lack of authority was deliberate, Harry did not know.
He did know that Professor Dumbledore had held her in very high regard while mentioning her.
So, along with Darcie, Harry greeted the Headmistress as such.
Theodore Whitethorn's dark eyes scanned Harry's face, momentarily pausing on his forehead as she observed the lightning scar, before moving on to Darcie.
Unlike Madam Villanelle, who still hadn't bothered to hide her displeasure, letting her face carry a scowl, Professor Whitethorn's face bore no emotion.
Her lips were pressed tight.
Her forehead had gained no creases.
The corners of her eyes were free of wrinkles.
And yet, Harry, once again finding some sense in Darcie's earlier remark, had a feeling that this woman didn't like them.
Not only did she not like them, but she did not even want them here.
"The Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…" Professor Whitethorn began, refusing to even acknowledge Harry and Darcie's greetings. "… including the students, teachers, and me… will forever be grateful to Lord Black Phoenix and you, Madam Villanelle. You protected us, helped us survive, and then later… helped us flee from the clutches of the Dark Alliance. The debt is enormous. Not a day passes that I don't feel my old back slouch more under its burden. And, from all of us, I promise that we will repay this debt. However…"
Harry felt confused.
The old witch was looking directly at Darcie, their eye levels matching.
"… However," Headmistress Whitethorn continued, "we will not be participating in the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic. It will take years for us to properly mourn the loss of our students. There are more urgent matters to settle as well. I truly hope Professor Dumbledore will find our refusal not an act of cowardice, but a plea for… a direly needed break. Won't you agree, Princess of Diagon Alley?"
Harry almost gasped in shock.
He refused to believe what he had just seen.
Darcie's emotionless face flinched, the corners of her eyes squinting and her jaw moving, as if she had just ground her teeth.
Darcie was angry.
Angrier than even Madam Villanelle, perhaps.
And, like it or not, Harry knew the reason behind her anger, too.
It was because of the distasteful mention of Diagon Alley by the old witch.
Who didn't know that nearly half of Diagon Alley hated Darcie, calling her the Dark Princess, these days?
To call her the Princess of Diagon Alley now, reminding Darcie of the tragic deaths of many people because of the Yellow Warlock, was not only distasteful but also disgusting.
Suddenly, Harry realized that despite knowing the reason behind Headmistress Whitethorn's taunting remark, as she had lost many students to the Yellow Warlock during his war on MACUSA, he couldn't bring himself to like the woman after all.
There was one thing that puzzled him, though.
Why so much fuss about Ilvermorny participating in the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic anyway? If they didn't want to join, which was more than obvious, then just let them be, right?!
But Harry knew that it was not his place to say those words aloud.
Even if Darcie was his age, she was still two years his senior.
If Headmistress Whitethorn had addressed those words to her, then she should be the one to reply.
Sooner rather than later, Harry hoped.
Because, now, more so than ever, he wanted to be with Sirius and his friends, lest the anger within him make him experience those weird visions again.
To Harry's utter shock, though, Darcie… gulped down her anger.
"I do agree with you, Professor," she said coolly. "There is no shame in asking for a break. Similarly, there's no shame in admitting to being afraid as well."
For the first time, Headmistress Whitethorn's eyes flickered at the jibe.
Madam Villanelle looked away, silently nodding at the disrespectful but much-needed remark.
Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore.
He still couldn't make sense of why there was so much fuss over a freaking Tournament!
Opposite him, the old witch opened her mouth, but Darcie cut her off, looking over her shoulder at the Death Star.
"I am afraid of that," she said, bringing her gaze back. "I am afraid of its reason for being here. I am afraid of its origin, too. I am afraid of many more things. So… I can understand Ilvermorny's feelings more than you give me credit for."
"How dare you?!" Theodore hissed.
"Sadly, we cannot leave," Darcie said, unperturbed. "Not yet. We are here under the command of Lord Black Phoenix of the Order of Black Phoenix, not just to request Ilvermorny's participation in the Tournament, but also… for something else."
Harry admitted that he wasn't as smart as Darcie, but he wasn't dumb, either.
They were here for one thing and one thing only — the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic.
Professor Dumbledore had conducted no private session with Darcie to give her another mission or something.
And, if that wasn't enough, then surely Madam Villanelle, with her brows raised, was enough of a sign to let Harry know that he had thought right.
Then… what was Darcie getting at?
What other task?
Headmistress Theodore Whitethorn also seemed confused.
Before she could ask, though, the Fifth-year Slytherin opened her mouth, shocking the living breath out of the three of them.
"As Parselmouths," Darcie Malfoy said, briefly glancing at Harry, "we are here to claim what is rightfully ours. We are here…
"… to claim the legacy of Salazar Slytherin."