A/N: Hello, my friends, here I am again. Sorry for the delay, but there was no way I could get any writing done on that ski trip. YOU try it while being cooped up with a gang of fifty kids! Well spotted, Wingardium happened to work (if only partially) for the third time already; can hardly be a coincidence, right? Now, without further ado, here is

Chapter 7 Links and Connections

"Harry!"

From somewhere far away, a voice was penetrating the mist that envelope his mind. And again, urgently, "Harry!"

"What?"

Slowly the fog seemed to lift, and the first sensation that impressed itself on him was the pain in his head.

"Harry! Wake up! Are you all right?"

He had heard that voice before… A female voice, frightened and pressing. With an effort, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred at first, and it took him some time to focus on the three faces bent over him. It took him even longer to get his thoughts into the same focus and recognise them: Old Mrs Figg, shock and fear clearly written in her face, Tony, looking dazed, and Dumbledore, whose eyes behind the half-moon glasses were not twinkling for once but gazing at him with a worried expression.

Only now he realised he was lying on the rug in the living room, an overturned chair next to him, as well as a broken plate. With a groan, he sat up clumsily and touched the back of his head and felt the bruise where apparently he had hit the floor.

"Harry! How do you feel? What happened?"

"Don't hurry him, Arabella," Dumbledore's calm voice sounded. "He'll need some time to order his thoughts, I imagine."

"Why don't you sit down on the sofa, Harry," Tony suggested, bending down to help him to his feet and leading him carefully over to it.

"What – what happened?" Harry finally managed to ask, his voice shaky.

"Well – we were hoping YOU could tell us," Dumbledore replied, and there was the tiniest sound of amusement back in his voice.

"It's like this," Tony told him matter-of-factly, "In the middle of a sentence, you just went rigid, stared as if you'd seen a ghost, and then, bang! Collapsed on the floor, upturning your chair, which luckily missed hitting you over the head. And then you were lying there, not moving at all, for a couple of minutes. You did give us some shock, I can tell you!"

"Did your scar hurt, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired. "What did you see or hear? Can you remember anything?"

"Here, drink this," Mrs Figg handed him a glass. "It's not actually a magic potion, but it will help you sort out things, nevertheless."

Harry gratefully accepted and gulped down the contents in one large swallow, which was a bit of a mistake.

"What – what's that?" he finally managed to splutter out, between coughs, tears in his eyes.

"Almost magic," she smiled at him, "Dalwhinnie 18 years old – really works wonders."

"Really, Arabella," Dumbledore said, but he tried in vain to hide his amusement. "He's only fifteen!"

"It won't kill him," she replied dryly. "It's not called water of life for nothing… Look, there's the colour returning to his face. Now, Harry, do you think you can tell us how you experienced everything?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, trying to catch the elusive images and feelings in his mind. "I'm not sure... It was… this sounds ridiculous… but- but if I had to describe the feeling, it was almost… the sudden darkness and the cold… yes, absurd as it may seem, but it was like – like a dementor!"

He stopped, as if surprised by his own words, and looked at the others, wondering how they would react.

"Crazy, I know," he muttered, "YOU haven't noticed any dementors, have you? I must have been dreaming or something."

"Indeed we haven't noticed anything of the kind," Dumbledore nodded. "Very strange indeed. Are you sure your scar didn't hurt?"

"You mean, did it have something to do with Voldemort? No, it didn't, and it doesn't now. The only thing that hurts is that bump from the fall… No, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with him."

"That's one good thing, at least; but – dementors? Do you remember anything else? You were in that state for some five minutes, did anything happen, sounds, sights, feelings?"

"As I said, it was completely dark, darker than any natural darkness, dementor-dark, you see… But I think I did hear something – a scream… a woman's voice… No, not my mum," he said seeing Dumbledore's expression, "I know THAT only too well, someone else, though now I think of it I believe I knew that voice too…" He paused, thinking hard. "There aren't so many women or girls whose voice would be familiar to me… Mrs Weasley… McGonagall… Aunt Petunia… no, the voice sounded younger… Ginny? No… Hermione?..." Realisation suddenly hit him. "FLEUR! Yes! It was her! Fleur – a dementor attacked her!"

He jumped up from the sofa.

"Quiet, Harry," Dumbledore put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Even if she was, - and we have no way of knowing right now, - there is nothing we can do. The only thing will be for you to remember as exactly as possible what happened. How did you wake up again?"

Harry sat down reluctantly.

"There was suddenly a blinding white light, and the cold and dark vanished; and then I heard you talking to me. Does that mean-"

He looked at Dumbledore hopefully.

"The dark and cold vanished, you say? This does sound good. It seems the dementor was chased away. And the only thing that can chase away a dementor – "

"Is a Patronus! This fits in with the white light…Well, I guess she may have learned to do it in sixth year, it can't be that hard, I mean, I learned it in third year… Oh, I so hope she's safe!"

"I still don't understand it," Mrs Figg said thoughtfully. "I mean, how did it work? For all we know, the girl is back in France, a thousand miles from here. How could you possible feel whatever it was that happened? Are you quite sure it was her voice?"

Harry only nodded dumbly. The more he thought of it the more certain he felt it had indeed been Fleur screaming.

"Empathy, Arabella," Dumbledore mused. "You know, a strong emotional connection, especially intense in times of stress and danger. It is not a gift that many people have, but all the signs point to one such empathic bond between Fleur and you, Harry. It's the only explanation, unless, of course, you were just imagining things."

Harry shook his head violently.

"What is most surprising, however," Dumbledore went on, "is the enormous power of this connection. It's quite out of the usual for the average teenage relationship to be that powerful. I'm not asking out of curiosity, Harry, but have you and Fleur – "

Again Harry shook his head energetically, blushing violently, and Dumbledore did not finish his sentence.

"Which means that there must be something about the two of you that is very special; something we have yet to find out… I don't suppose you have any idea, Harry?"

Fleur's account of the prophecy about the scorpion's sting crossed Harry's mind, but it seemed too absurd to mention to Dumbledore, so he shook his head once again.

"I'll send her an owl this very night," he said finally. "I have to know if things happened like we believe they did, or – or if I'm just going nuts. So I think I'd better be going; the Dursleys will be mad at me as it is."

"No," Dumbledore interjected quietly, and Harry was surprised at his expression; the headmaster looked worried, but at the same time there was an eager fire in his eyes that he had never seen there before. "I'm afraid it will not be possible for you to return to their house, not even for the shortest of times. In the light of these recent developments we just cannot take the risk. No, I will have to take you to headquarters right away."

"Headquarters?"

"Patience, Harry. You will see for yourself; and I will give all the necessary explanations in due course, I promise."

"But- but my things? And Hedwig?"

"Your school things and everything else will be arranged for; and as for your owl, I think you know you can trust her to find you wherever you are. Now, if you have recovered from your shock, let's leave…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What-"

Hearing the Apparating sounds Vivienne looked up from the book she was reading; and she could not believe her eyes: Margaux and Iphigenie had just appeared in the mansion's salon, supporting the limp form of Fleur between them.

The book dropped from her hands, and she was up and beside the girls in a flash.

"What-", she began again, but her voice failed her.

Together they laid Fleur down on the sofa between the windows. Fleur was still unconscious, her face very white, a nasty scratch on her forehead, where she had hit the ground. Her breath was shallow and irregular.

"We don't really know what happened," Margaux said breathlessly. "We were in the park of Sacre Coeur, see, and she said she wanted to go for a short walk…"

"We didn't pay too much attention, I'm afraid," Iphigenie put in, blushing. "I guess we should…"

"And- and the next thing was she had collapsed a couple of metres away, and the muggles were already wondering-"

"So we rushed to her, and picked her up and Apparated here," Iphigenie finished. "Will she be all right?"

Vivienne, who had regained her composure, looked at her granddaughter critically.

"She doesn't seem seriously hurt," she said slowly. "Yet she's still unconscious. Obviously, this must be something to do with magic… Enervate!" she said, directing her wand at Fleur.

Slowly, the spell began to show its effects; gradually, colour returned to Fleur's cheeks, her breath steadied, and her eyelids first fluttered and then opened. Her look, unfocused first, soon became clearer, and at last she sat up, looking around her wildly.

"Fleur, cherie!" Vivienne sat down next to her and put an arm round her shoulders. "How do you feel? What happened?"

"I – I don't know!" She buried her head in her grandmother's chest. "Oh, I thought – I thought – "

She could not finish; the horrible experience was too fresh in her mind. Vivienne stroked her hair and held her tightly.

"It's all right," she muttered softly. "You are home, and you are safe, from whatever it was." She turned to the two girls who were standing next to her awkwardly, their faces frightened. "Go to the cabinet in the corner," she told them, "and get me the decanter you find there, and a glass, too."

When Margaux had dutifully fetched the potion, Vivienne measured out a small quantity into the glass and made Fleur drink it. After a convulsive shudder or two, the girl relaxed visibly.

"Now, cherie," her grandmother said quietly. "When you are ready, won't you tell us what happened?"

Fleur took a deep breath.

"De- dementors!" she managed to say at last.

The others looked at her, shocked and incredulous.

"Dementors? But – but they are far away in Azkaban!" Margaux said, her eyes wide. "And they work FOR us! What would a dementor be doing in the middle of Paris?"

"Are you sure, Fleur?" Vivienne asked gently.

"No – yes – I don't know…"

"Try to remember; what did you feel, see, hear?"

"Suddenly everything went dark… and then there was that horrible cold… I managed to light my wand, you see, and then… then I saw it… a huge hooded something, gliding, not walking, and I heard that terrible rattling gasping breathing… It was- "

Her voice faded away, and she buried her face in her hands. Vivienne moved her hand up and down her back in soothing motions.

"Sounds like a dementor all right," Iphigenie said in a whisper. "What did you do?"

"I was in a panic, I didn't really know what I was doing; I think I tried a couple of idiotically simple spells, and of course none of them worked… Can you believe it, I even did Wingardium… Funny enough, it even seemed to work for a second or two… but-"

"Wingardium leviosa?" Vivienne interjected.

"Yes. Silly of me, I know. Why are you asking?"

"No matter; we'll talk about that later. What happened next?"

"I'm not sure; I recalled about thinking happy thoughts, but of course it was next to impossible in my state of mind. And I believe I shouted Harry's name. And then there was a sudden white light, and I think I saw some kind of animal, a horse or something, that attacked the dementor… I'm not sure, everything was so fast, I may have imagined it…"

"A Patronus!" Iphigenie said excitedly. "Nothing else helps against a dementor!"

"But I can't do a Patronus!" Fleur said numbly. "You know I can't. You never learn it at school. They only teach us the theory."

"Because they claim that dementors are basically harmless," Vivienne remarked grimly. "Just going after the bad guys… Well it seems there is a lesson the authorities still have to learn. But then, where did that Patronus come from? Only very powerful and accomplished magic can produce one. Do you know anybody whose it could have been?"

The girls looked at her blankly without answering.

"I wish I knew," Fleur muttered. "Whoever it was saved my life, there in the park." She sat quietly for some time, lost in thought.

"Don't ask me why," she said finally, "But I – somehow I have a feeling it's something to do with Harry… I seem to remember a rumour… in Hogwarts, they said he dealt with dementors in his third year… and it is said that he learned to do a Patronus, too!"

"Harry? In third year? How did he do it? A thirteen year old boy, doing magic of the most advanced sort?"

"I know, I know; but this is what people said, and from what I have seen him do, I can believe it, too, impossible as it may seem to you. But you don't know Harry Potter! There's something about him…"

"Well, I expect it's just as good an explanation as any other," Vivienne stated. "Everything seems completely impossible – dementors in the middle of Paris, a Patronus out of nowhere… why shouldn't it be possible for Harry Potter to save you over a distance of a thousand kilometres?"

"Far more important, though," Iphigenie, ever practical, put in, "what's a dementor's business in muggle Paris, and, still more important, was it an accident, or-"

"Or did it go for me on purpose?"

"I suppose that's what I meant," Iphigenie's voice was very quiet.

"I'll see the Minister herself first thing next morning," Vivienne said grimly. "And she'd better have a good sound explanation for me, too! Seems they must keep a closer watch on those creatures' movements. Dementors at Sacre Coeur! What will it be next? Dragons on the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"Do you know, I'm not sure I'd not prefer the dragons!"

"Ah, ma cherie, that's the spirit! See, you're smiling again! Now, don't you think you'd better go to bed and try to sleep it off?"

"We'll stay with you for the night, if you like," Margaux offered. Fleur accepted gratefully and the three girls withdrew to Fleur's room.

Of course, Gabrielle had woken up and had to be told everything, too, which took some time, especially as she had not heard of dementors before. She found it hard to imagine such creatures really existed.

"But what are they?" she kept asking. "Where do they come from?"

"Nobody knows," they told her. "Some learned wizards believe that they are the accumulated fears and sorrows of generations of humans that have taken on a visible form. But it's only a theory; and it isn't really important, is it? Wizards have employed them as prison guards at Azkaban…"

"How can they EMPLOY such awful creatures? You say there is almost no protection against them; isn't it dangerous?"

"Apparently;" Margaux said dryly. "If what happened to Fleur is any example."

Gabrielle was not too surprised when she heard about the idea that somehow Harry Potter had been able to save her sister, even if he was back in England all the time.

"Why shouldn't it have been like that? Harry is special, he can do loads of things nobody else can, I'm sure of that. Why don't you owl him right away and ask him if anything strange has been happening to him?"

"You are such a clever little girl, Gabie," Fleur said fondly. "Yes, I'll do exactly that: but I really have to rest first. Just don't let me fall asleep…"

With these words, she dropped down on her bed and was fast asleep before her head even touched the pillow.

"Just let her sleep it off," Margaux said. "She'll need it. And tomorrow's still another day."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"WHAT happened?"

Voldemort's voice, although still cold, rose. The Death Eater in front of him took a hasty step back.

"I cannot explain it, my Lord," he said, his voice shaking in spite of himself. He knew only too well how much his master hated any sign of weakness. "But it must have been a Patronus - nothing else works against dementors..."

"Tell me something, new, fool," Voldemort hissed impatiently. "What - EXACTLY - happened?"

"As you instructed me, my Lord, I was monitoring their every movement, and when she left the others and walked away from them, I judged the time had come. So I set the dementor on her, using the spell you so generously taught me..."

"Stop dithering, how did she react?"

"She could resist for a very short time, in fact she even managed to light her wand, but then she must have panicked - she tried a few ridiculously simple and - of course, - quite useless spells, it was quite amusing -"

Seeing that Voldemort was not amused at all, the Death Eater returned to a serious tone of voice hurriedly and continued.

"Anyway, the dementor was coming nearer, and was just about to -" he stopped himself, but not quickly enough.

"About to what?" came the cold voice, and the menace was almost tangible. "She was only to be frightened! Are you telling me the dementor was going to really kiss her?"

"No, master!" the frightened Death Eater screamed, even as the Curse hit him and sent him writhing to the floor.

"Incompetent idiot," Voldemort said placidly, watching the convulsions of his servant for a minute before lifting the curse.

"Rise, and thank your stars that she did not come to any harm... And don't tell me," he added as an afterthought, "that you had everything under control and would have stopped the dementor in time... Never lie to Lord Voldemort. On with your report now!"

"Yes, my Lord." The Death Eater did not dare to wipe the sweat from his face. Just before I- just before the dementor had reached her, the- the Patronus appeared; blinding white light, an animal shape, charging the dementor, which vanishes... all the signs are there."

"Can she have conjured it?"

"No, master, I am perfectly sure of that. If you had seen her yourself... all those absurd spells... Impossible! And she would not have fainted if it had been her spellwork."

"No, I suppose not. Could you see what shape the animal was?"

"It was all so very quick, master... Horse-like, and I believe it had antlers... yes, I am almost sure of it... a stag..."

"A stag?"

The Dark Lord's voice was more a shriek than articulate speech, as he half rose from his chair. The Death Eater, horrified, crouched down at his feet.

"Yes... yes, master. What does it mean, master?"

"Nothing; it seems the plan was successful, this is what matters. Keep your eyes open, and do not let me find you blundering again. It is vital that she be sent to Hogwarts in September."

A/N: Now, if you find the time, how about some guesses: Why would it be so important for old Voldie to have Fleur at Hogwarts?