A/N: Here you'll find out a few bits about Fleur's mother at last. Tell me what you think.
Chapter 37 Awakening
"A very strange case, n'est ce pas?" Galén Rougecroix said to Dumbledore when Vivienne and the others had gone.
Dumbledore silently nodded. He bent over the motionless figure on the bed, put his hand on her forehead and concentrated.
"It might be a good idea to get a therapeutical pensieve," he said after a time. "It may help if we analysed her memory."
"We would need her consent for that," the healer replied. "It's unethical to invade someone's memory without it."
"I am quite aware of the fact," Dumbledore retorted, a note of impatience in his voice. "However, I believe it will be somewhat difficult to obtain that consent. And as we both believe that it has something to do with Voldemort, we should not waste time on a mere formality. After all, nobody ever needs to know about this, except you and me."
The healer hesitated.
"Very well," he said at last. "It is probably just like you say. I still feel uncomfortable about it, but it is most likely the best approach to the case…"
With a small gesture, he summoned a miniature silver basin that he handed to Dumbledore.
"Voila, monsieur, I would indeed feel better if you applied it…"
Harry and the girls had been quite nervous and restless all evening and refused to go to bed; so Vivienne put her foot down.
"You are not helping anybody by staying up all night," she said. "All you will reach by that is complete exhaustion by tomorrow morning, when, perhaps, you will get a chance to be useful."
She conjured up a large sofa in the middle of the salon.
"Lie down!" she ordered in a voice that clearly brooked no protest. "Somnium!"
With a satisfied smile she watched the three youngsters cuddle up together on the sofa, already fast asleep.
With a click of her fingers she summoned a house-elf.
"Watch over them, Maisy," she said. "I am going to the clinic. If anything out of the ordinary happens, let me know at once."
"Bien sure, madame," the elf said bowing low and Vivienne Disapparated.
At the clinic she found Dumbledore busy setting the pensieve up to work. He stopped when he saw her.
"Ah, Vivienne, good you have come back. I suppose it will be alright if she gives her permission to use this?" he continued turning to Galén.
"Correct. The nearest blood relatives certainly have authority to do that."
"But I don't expect you will need this thing, anyway," Vivienne said, looking at it disdainfully. "Let me try it my way."
"Your way?"
"Yes, Albus, there are some things about Veela that I believe even you are not aware of. The mental bond between a mother and her daughter is one of them. I am confident that I will have no problem entering her mind, now that she is unconscious. Of course, in her waking state I could only do so with her permission, and I would never try without it, anyway. But as this is clearly an emergency… Kindly get me a comfortable chair, Galén, it may take some time, and I don't want cramps and stiff joints when I come back."
When the chair was duly supplied, she sat down, put a hand on her daughter's forehead, closed her eyes and concentrated.
"Well, I believe we are quite superfluous here," Dumbledore said with a shrug. "Why don't we go wherever you go when you are off duty for a cup of your excellent French coffee?"
The healer could only agree, and the two men quietly left the room.
It did not take Vivienne long to find the image of Wormtail in her daughter's memory. She watched as the short balding man walked swiftly up to Isabeau, who was sitting by herself in the garden pavilion.
"You will arrange for your daughter Fleur to go to Hogwarts in autumn," Vivienne heard Wormtail say seemingly without any preliminaries.
"Fleur will go to Hogwarts," Isabeau repeated in a dull voice.
"And so that she does not suspect anything, you will treat her with the utmost care and accept and fulfil her every wish."
"With the utmost care and accept and fulfil her every wish."
"And you will not remember that we have ever met."
There was a rush of shapes and colour, and suddenly Wormtail was there again. Again, the scene was in the garden pavilion, but the time was clearly spring now. Again, Isabeau was sitting on the bench. Just when the image had become clear, Vivienne saw the man point his wand at her.
"Imperio perennis!"
At once, Isabeau's posture stiffened, and her face assumed the blank expression so typical of the Imperius curse.
"Where is the amulet?" Wormtail was saying.
Isabeau looked at him blankly. "Amulet?" she repeated in a toneless voice.
"The amulet your daughter found in the forest. Where is it?"
"I do not know about any amulet. There is no amulet in my daughter's room."
An angry shadow flashed across the man's face.
"Then it will still be in England," he said to himself. "You may go."
Again the image blurred, but Vivienne had seen enough.
"Imperio perennis?" she said to herself when she had returned from her journey into her daughter's memory. "Dumbledore will know more about that…"
"Perennis, you say?" Dumbldore said thoughtfully when she had told him and the healer what she had found out. "The constant Imperius curse… a very difficult curse indeed. I am surprised someone like Pettigrew should be able to perform it. Most likely, Voldemort taught him how to do it, probably lent him some of his power for the purpose."
"What's the difference to the normal curse?"
"This special form of the Imperius curse," Dumbledore continued, "just like the one you know about, changes the cursed person into a kind of automaton obeying the wishes of the caster. However, the perennis variant keeps up this influence over a much longer period of time, and also does not require the constant presence of the caster. According to the power of the magic involved, the effects can last up to four months without having to be renewed. The normal Imperius curse needs to be re-applied once a week or so, and also the people involved cannot be far apart for longer than perhaps a day or two. As for the mental and physical effects, I expect you are the expert here, monsieur."
"This is correct. Luckily, this special variant of the curse does not occur often, so knowledge about it is sparse, but we do know a few things. The spell creates a very strong connection between the people concerned. And therefore, some reports say that, when the caster of the curse is hurt, the victim experiences similar sensations. Now I cannot recall any case where the caster actually died, but it only seems logical that, like here, a very strong reaction of the victim would happen. This certainly would explain the state of unconsciousness."
"Great. But what can you do to get her out of it again?"
"Patience, madame. Now that we know what happened to her it should not be too difficult. In fact, I believe she will perfectly fine by tomorrow morning."
Strands of hair tickling his face woke Harry. He blinked. When, in an automatic gesture that he had used every morning during the past years, he wanted to reach for his glasses, he found it difficult to move his arms.
"Harry?" came a sleepy voice from his right, and it took him a second or two to recognise it as Gabrielle's. Her head was buried in his shoulder, and her right arm was thrown across his chest, while Fleur's warm body was snuggled up to him on the other side. Another moment later, Fleur stirred. Now he remembered the events of the last evening, and only now he realised that he must have fallen asleep with his glasses on.
"Mother!" Fleur's voice sounded shocked as she, too, remembered. "We must-"
"Your mother is well again, cherie," Vivienne, who must have Apparated that very moment, said. "And she wants to see you right away."
Both girls jumped up excitedly at the news.
"How? When?"
"Patience," Vivienne told them. "She will tell you everything you want to know herself. Now, just brush your hair out of your eyes – you look quite dishevelled. And then let's go. Yes, Harry," she added seeing his doubtful look, "of course you'll come too. In fact, she expressly asked for you."
After only a minute or two they Apparated to the clinic, where they found Isabeau sitting upright in her bed. She was still deadly pale, but there was a determined expression in her eyes. She smiled weakly at her daughters and opened her arms.
"Mama!" Gabrielle and Fleur rushed over and threw themselves at her, bowling her over on the bed. The next minutes were taken up by indistinct mutterings, mixed with sobs.
At last, the three sat up again, and Isabeau stretched out her hand towards Harry, who had been standing aside, watching the scene with a subtle feeling of envy.
"Harry," she said, and gestured for him to come over. "I am so grateful…"
"But – I – I didn't…"
"No," she whispered touching his cheek with a cold hand, "without you-," her voice trailed off. After a pause she said in a much firmer tone,
"Painful as it is, I will now tell you everything… Sit down, Harry. This is more about you than you can know…"
After Vivienne had conjured chairs for herself and Harry – the girls remained sitting on the bed to each side of their mother – Isabeau began:
"I don't expect any of you have ever been under the Imperius curse-"
"I have," Harry muttered under his breath, but nobody seemed to hear him.
"-so you will not find it easy to imagine… Well – it must have been some time in spring when that – that man first appeared at the mansion."
Here Fleur and Gabrielle exchanged glances. Isabeau continued.
"I cannot remember exactly under what pretext he got admitted, but I does not matter, does it? He put me under the Imperius curse, and wanted me to find some amulet or other for him; he was under the impression you had it in your room, Gabrielle-"
"Morgaine's necklace!" Fleur gasped.
"What?"
"It's a complicated story, mama; please finish yours first."
"All right. He was very angry when I could not find anything, but he seemed to accept it and I did not see him for several months. However, two days before Fleur's return home from school he appeared again. And this time – he – he made me - be nice to you… He – he said I had to arrange for you to go to Hogwarts… to say you would be safe there…"
"He did? But – but then the Dementor attack was just a – a trick?"
"It certainly seems so, mother."
"But – why would – Voldemort want me in Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake?"
"I have no idea," Vivienne said. "But you should certainly be on your guard. Please go on."
"You cannot imagine," Isabeau continued and her voice was shaking, "What it feels like. Doing things and all the while knowing they are wrong, but being unable to stop… But then, while I was following the orders of the curse, deep inside of me I became aware how happy it all made you… And it made me start thinking… You have a lot of time to think inside yourself while under Imperius – in fact I believe it's what kept me sane… One will appreciate the things one has lost a lot better, you know… And I – I realised what a horrible mother I had been to my children all these years… And I vowed if I ever got out of that curse I would make amends as best as I can… Can you forgive me? I cannot promise I will be perfect, but…"
With tears in her eyes, Fleur threw her arms around her mother.
"Yes!" she sobbed.
Harry also felt something sting in his eyes.
"Never believed there might be something he did one could be grateful for," he said to himself.
"Ends and means," Vivienne mused. "Normally, evil means are claimed to be justified by desirable ends – but of course they corrupt the ends as well as the person using them… Perhaps this is what happens when good means are applied for evil ends… The dynamics of good and evil are unfathomable…"
"And of course someone like Wormtail could never understand about good altogether," Harry remarked.
"But - did he ever mention anything about Voldemort's plans?" He went on after a pause. "I mean, he did mention something when he was talking to me, about spys and hidden portkeys, but that's not really a lot to go by. He did not say who the spy was, for example?"
Isabeau shook her head.
"He used to keep boasting about it all, and how ingenuous the plan was, but that is it. I do not think he knew very much about the plan himself. He did know about the spy, though; he seemed very proud of it, as if he had some hand in it all himself – sometimes he said things like they'll never find out who it is, or nobody'll ever suspect that – but he never mentioned any names. I have a feeling he said all that just to make me feel bad."
"Indeed, he had a taste for that sort of thing," Harry said grimly.
Gabrielle shuddered at the memory.
"And then, when was it? Yesterday? I could not say… Suddenly a feeling of emptiness overcame me – no, not emptiness – disorientation, perhaps, depression – there is no word for it, I'm afraid…like – like looking out to the sky from a deep dark hole, and frightened never to get out… and then, I don't know – when I came to I was here in this bed…"
"Well," Vivienne said briskly, "why don't we all go home now? After all, have you forgotten what day it is?"
"What-?" Harry looked at her blankly before realisation dawned on him. "Of course! Christmas Eve!"
"But shouldn't we tell Dumbledore about it all?" Fleur, who hade finally found her voice, asked.
"This can wait, cherie. I do not expect Voldemort will be up to something. That plan of his is about Hogwarts, remember? So I believe we'll all be quite safe here."
"So, why don't we invite Dumbledore over for Christmas, grandma?"
"Why not indeed? As it is, the house will be full of Aurors anyway. I'll just go and tell him about all this, and then we can go back home. I won't be a minute…"
When they returned to the Delacours mansion, they found Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other Aurors waiting for them, just as Vivienne had predicted.
"We made a thorough search of the place," the black Auror reported. "But it was completely deserted. It does not look as if it had been lived in for years. We found a fully equipped torture chamber on the first floor-," he shook himself. "Disgusting. But there was no living soul anywhere in that place. Whoever was there must have left in a hurry." He paused. "Good to see everybody is fine, that's what matters, I'd say. Well, we'd better be off," he turned to address the other Aurors. "Perhaps we can still get something out of Christmas if we hurry."
After the Aurors had Disapparated, Vivienne took charge of everything.
"You'll go and lie down and rest," she said to her daughter. "No – don't argue, you are still tired out even if you don't know it yourself. – Yes, Fleur can keep you company, I can imagine you will have a lot to talk about, even if I believe you'd better sleep it all off first. And you, Harry, and Gabrielle, you can help me with the Christmas decorations. There is rather a lot to do…"
A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers. You can look forward to some more fluff in the next chapter. If there is anybody out there familiar with French Christmas customs, I'd appreciate your help!