AN: Hello again all! So there are two more chapters after this one, so don't worry. I will probably be putting the next one up in a couple of days instead of Wednesday, as I've been working on a new story that I'm excited to get up.
Anyways, I still don't own anything, but I still hope you all enjoy!
Bold is Veela's thoughts/conversations.
Italics are Fleur's internal thoughts with her Veela.
Chapter 11
The following week past quickly, and it was now the day of the final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione had been allowed to stay with me the night before, though we behaved, focusing on simply being together. This eased my nerves, though as I stood in front of the giant maze that had popped up on the Quidditch field, I was starting to grow nervous again.
It was dark, almost threatening, as the plant hedges towered over my head.
"Remember your training, Fleur. Use your Veela 'eritage to your advantage," Madame Maxime instructed as she massaged my shoulders. "Remember, your mate is watching you."
I smiled, my Veela pushing forward, wanting to impress our mate. She's already ours—we've already had her. What difference does that make? Are you really satisfied being lazy and coming in last in front of her?
Of course not, but I don't want to go into this fighting you for control.
It sighed with irritation and fell back. I nodded, thanking my Veela and showing my readiness to my headmistress.
Dumbledore allowed the champions to enter the maze in order, based on who had the highest score for the tournament so far. Not surprisingly, Cedric was the first to walk into the unknown, followed shortly after by myself.
I held my wand tightly, keeping it raised and prepared to attack or defend at a moment's notice.
The sounds that drifted through the passageways sent chills up my spine. Maybe it would be better if I had a hand, and I allowed my Veela to come out some, partially transforming as a few feathers sprouted from my skin, my eyes glowing amber.
I turned corner after corner, my panic rising as the unknown added to the terror of feeling lost.
Don't panic, our mate is cheering for us. Focus, listen, and sense our surroundings. We can do this.
Once more, I was grateful for the creature inside me. I stopped for a moment, taking several deep breaths as I collected myself. When I had calmed down considerably, I moved forward again.
Rounding several more corners, I froze in horror as something shifted in front of me. When the movement stopped, I was greeted by Hermione, laying on the ground, cold and lifeless as empty eyes stared up at me.
"'ermione!" I cried and raced to my mate's side. I began to hyperventilate as I collapsed next to the girl. I stared in horror at my mate, touching her still beautiful face. It was freezing, cold with the loss of life, and I lost it, breaking down into sobs, rocking on my knees as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep from falling apart.
"Non, non, non, non, non," I cried over and over, unable to accept that my mate, who I had been with all night and day, was no longer with me.
That's it! My Veela pushed passed the agony that was the loss of part of our soul that would ultimately kill us.
It lifted my hand that held my want and screamed out, "Riddikulus!" Instantly, the body of my deceased mate turned into a very much alive Gabrielle, her eyes crossed as her tongue stuck out. My Veela forced laughter to escape my lips, passed my sobs.
This did the trick, and the figure quickly disappeared, retreating to safety to escape the laughter coming from the creature within me. Shh, it's alright; it's over now. It was just a Boggart—our mate is safe and alive.
I remained hunched over, crying my eyes out as agony became relief. "T-Thank you," I sobbed, grateful for my Veela for saving us, for exposing the fake death of our mate.
I could sense its rage at the other entity for impersonating our beautiful mate, but I should have known it could tell the difference. While every aspect of the corpse appeared to be the real deal to me, my Veela had been able to see through its game, sensing the difference and noticing that the body didn't share the same scent as our mate.
Of course. Now why don't we get up and finish this bloody tournament and get back to the real thing. I'm certain she will reward us for having to endure that.
I chuckled, wiping the tears and snot from my face. "I'd like that," I admitted and pushed myself to my feet, taking a few moments to calm myself further before pushing forward. If there were Boggarts in this hellish maze, what other horrors would we encounter?
We continued deeper into the maze, running into dead ends and turning in place, completely lost. The Veela's senses were completely overwhelmed, as we couldn't get our bearings and figure which direction housed the trophy. So we just picked a path and moved forward.
In the next instant, I felt my body freeze, completely unable to move. What's going on?
This feels like Stupefy. We sniffed the air, trying to determine who had cast the spell as they hadn't made themselves known yet. Something isn't right—there's no one around who could have cast the spell.
What does that mean?
It means someone is interfering with the tournament. I think we were getting too close to the trophy for their liking.
Who would interfere with the tournament to the point of incapacitating the challengers? Why would someone…
Harry!
Suddenly, my Veela managed to hiss as we heard something move behind us. We were quickly engulfed by the vines from the hedges and moved to the outside, clearly being disqualified from the tournament.
When I was released from the vines, Hermione was instantly by my side. She quickly released the spell and I crumpled to the ground. She kneeled next to me, searching for any signs of injury.
"Fleur, are you alright? What happened?"
I shook my head, looking at the professors and headmasters around us. I wasn't sure who I could trust, as I couldn't help but feel one of them was the culprit of what had happened.
"'ermione, you 'ave to listen to me. I zink 'arry is in trouble. I was 'it with Stupefy when no one was around. Having two minds kept me conscious for ze most part. I zink zere is a traitor 'ere, but I don't know who it is," I explained quietly.
My mate searched my face and nodded shortly. "What should we do?"
"Do you 'ave your wand?" She nodded once more. "Zen prepare for anyzing. I don't know what's going to 'appen, but ze Veela and I are sure there will be somezing."
"Okay, I believe you. Are you well enough to defend yourself and fight if you need?"
"Oui," I replied and pushed to my feet for added effect. I was still partially transformed and ready to protect my mate in that instant. I prayed we were wrong, but something stirred my magic in a bad way, and I couldn't help but know we were right.
I turned my gaze back to the entrance of the maze, silently praying for Harry to be alright.
Several minutes after I had been forced out, the hedge began to shift and the vines stretched out slightly before pulling back and revealing Viktor. He looked dazed, slightly confused as to what had happened. This only further reinforced my belief, and I glanced at Hermione. She was barely able to hide her anxiety, though it could probably be dismissed simply as worrying for her friend being in the maze, not for knowing something would likely go very wrong soon.
"I hate having to wait," she breathed, so quiet I barely heard her. I took her hand and squeezed it tightly, trying to reassure her that I was there and would help in any way I could.
She returned my gesture and sighed heavily. I had no idea what was happening inside the maze, but I knew from my own experiences that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.
With my own exit, and also Viktor's, the only possible winner was from Hogwarts. I couldn't help but pray Cedric would be able to get to the trophy before Harry, but if my suspicions were correct, The Boy Who Lived would be the one to take the trophy. But why was it so important that he get it?
As soon as the thought struck me, Dumbledore cried out.
"What's going on? Where have the champions gone?" he bellowed in shock and fury. This whole tournament hadn't gone as planned, and I knew the legendary headmaster had assumed as I that something was off about this final event.
Now, we were certain of it.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded at the old wizard. "What happened? Where's Harry?"
He continued to stare into the maze of hedges, a frown set deep on his features. "That is exactly what I would like to know, Miss Granger," he replied. This wasn't what my mate had wanted to hear.
"Ze trophy—it was a portkey," I voiced, stating my theory.
"Yes, it would seem so, Miss Delacour. But one has to wonder, where does it lead?"
"A portkey? You mean to tell me that Harry has disappeared somewhere!" Hermione cried in horror.
Professor Moody stepped forward, also frowning. "Seems that other boy went with him. Can't end well, whatever happens." So Cedric and Harry touched the trophy together. They were both the winners of this tournament, if you could say there were any winners.
I wrapped my arms protectively around my mate, my senses heightened by my Veela, waiting just under the surface to take full control. There was no way I would hold it back, knowing I would likely need it at any moment. It was extremely on edge, wanting control already, but I didn't want to push Hermione and worry her more than she already was.
While the professors went around trying to figure out what to do and where the two boys had disappeared off to, Ron had made his way down to us. I quickly caught him up to speed so my mate could process everything.
I deeply regretted the fact that I couldn't do more to reassure the girl in my arms. I could feel her tremble slightly, likely fighting tears from falling, as she feared for her friend.
"Don't worry," I whispered in her ear, "'arry is a powerful wizard. 'e will come back to us, I promise." She simply nodded, and I prayed I hadn't lied to the poor girl. I would never forgive myself if what I just said was a lie.
What seemed like an eternity later, there was a pop, and the two boys returned. Cedric was laying on his back, Harry sobbing over him. Instantly, I knew the Hufflepuff was dead, and I held the girl tighter, not letting her go to comfort her friend for fear of something harming her. My Veela didn't sense any threat, but we weren't about to risk anything.
Dumbledore was next to Harry in less than a second, trying to pull him to his feet, demanding to know what had happened. The boy yanked away from his headmaster, collapsing back over his fallen comrade, sobbing into his chest.
The old wizard finally kneeled down next to the distraught boy. "Harry, please, I need to know what happened," he pleaded, desperate but firm in his demand.
Finally, The Boy Who Lived raised his head, tears streaming down his face. "He's back," he cried. "Voldemort's back."
