Hey everyone, here's a new story I'm working on. Been reading lots of really good Harry/Fleur fics out there and thought I'd try my hand at it cause I ship them so hard...
This is your sterotypical Harry/Fleur 4th year fic which starts at the World Cup, but it will get more original as the story progresses. I've got most of the storyline mapped out, but ideas, suggestions and critiques are always welcome... I'd like to send a shoutout to the author durararaaa and their story His Angel, for giving me the idea of having Harry save Fleur at the World Cup. Go and check out that story if you haven't read it already, it's 100x better than mine.
If you're looking for more Harry/Fleur fics, or just want to be part of a community of like-minded individuals, then join the Harry/Fleur Discord Server. (Link: www. discord. gg/rwKTNhaMd6 ) Fanfiction doesn't let you put URLs in stories, so you need to remove all the spaces in that link for it to work.
This story starts just after they take the Portkey to the World Cup. Consider all events from the first three books and the chapters preceding the Portkey in Book 4 as being canon for this story. When I write Fanfiction I try to keep to the rules and worldbuilding of the universe it's set in as closely as possible, so Harry won't be some uber-powerful wizard, or some long-lost descendant of Merlin or anything else like that... He'll be as close to the vanilla Harry as possible.
Fair warning: I'm not the best writer (obviously), especially when it comes to characterisation... So if the characters appear to be quite wooden, or out-of-character then I do apologise for this. It's not intentional! I find dialogue between characters to be particularly difficult... Which you'll probably see when you read those scenes.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is obviously not mine and all rights belong to JK Rowling.
Just a note on the writing in this chapter: Because this is the first chapter and most of it roughly follows the book's storyline, I've tried to paraphrase some sections and put them in my own words. Most sections are my own writing, but three small areas have been copied straight from the book. The reason for these copies is because my story follows the same plotline for those scenes as the original book, and rather than putting random time skips in my chapter (I hate it when Fanfiction writers do that...), or trying to rewrite the scenes (as if I could do it any better than Rowling did), I figured it was easier just to put the original stuff in there.
OBVIOUSLY I am not taking credit for those scenes (you'll know them when you read them), they are entirely Rowling's work! And as the story progresses it will get more and more divergent from the original book and thus there won't be anymore blatant copying.
Chapter 1 – The Quidditch World Cup
Harry felt the world turn upside down as he was pulled forward into the swirling of noise and colour that was the Portkey. He was aware of Ron and Hermione on either side of him as they all sped forward to wherever the Portkey was programmed to take them. He suddenly felt the ground slam into his feet as the three of them were deposited in an unceremonious heap. Harry waited for Ron and Hermione to climb off of him before he felt around for his glasses. After putting them on he noticed that the twins and Ginny had also been knocked to the ground, Ron extended his hand to help him up and Harry took it. Looking around Harry saw that they'd arrived in a moor shrouded in mist. He could not see more than a few metres in any direction, but Mr. Weasley seemed to know where to go as he set off with the others following. They hadn't been walking for more than a minute before two people appeared out of the gloom.
"Hello Arthur," said a wizard wearing a kilt.
"Morning Basil," replied Mr. Weasley, and he handed him the old boot, which Basil threw into a box next to them.
"Not on duty then?" asked Basil. "Nice for some, we've been here all night. You're in the first field Weasley, that way for a quarter of a mile. Diggory, you're in the second field. You'd better move as we're expecting a big party to come through from the Black Forest soon." Mr. Weasley gave him a nod of thanks and they continued their march across the moor. Soon they had said goodbye to the Diggory's and been told where to set up their camp by Mr. Roberts. They trudged up the path between the assortment of tents and magical dwellings that had been erected in the field. Harry looked around at some of the more magical looking ones in wonderment. Some had live creatures chained up outside, others had multiple stories and were made out of brick, and still others had entire gardens with fountains and house elves tending the trees.
"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, having noticed Harry's bewondered gaze. "We just can't resist showing off whenever we get together. Everyone always trying to outdo the next. No wonder poor Mr. Roberts is getting suspicious of us. Ah, and here we are." They had arrived at an empty section of grass that backed onto the woods that ran alongside the field. "This is a perfect spot," said Mr. Weasley happily. "The quidditch stadium is just beyond those trees, we'll have the shortest walk possible." They took off their backpacks and then proceeded to try and erect the tents without magic. Harry had no previous camping experience, but with Hermione's help they soon had two small tents up, despite Mr. Weasley's excited input which was more of a hindrance than a help. At this point Bill, Charlie and Percy arrived and Harry began to notice a problem, how would they all sleep in two small tents? He was just about to voice his concerns to Hermione when Mr. Weasley bent down and entered one of them.
"We'll be a bit cramped, but it should be alright. Come and have a look." He called from the inside. Harry bent down and ducked under the tent flap and then stopped in surprise at what he saw. On the inside was an entire house, with 3 bedrooms, bathroom, living room and even the kitchen sink. "Do you like it Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, as he again noticed the wonderment on Harry's face. "Borrowed it from Perkin's who I work with at the Ministry. It's not much, but it'll do us whilst we're here." He then proceeded to rummage around the kitchen making tea. "We'll need some water." He said as he peered into the dry kettle. "I think I saw a tap marked on that map earlier. Can you, Ron and Hermione go and fetch some for us Harry?" He handed the boys the kettle and some pots. They stopped at the girls' tent to get Hermione before slowly making their way across the field to the other side.
Harry couldn't believe the sheer number of tents that the one field contained, they continued endlessly into the distance, arranged in ordered rows. And this was only one field, thought Harry. They made their way up one of the wider gaps between the rows and looked at their neighbours with fascination. Harry had never seen so many foreign witches and wizards, but now that he thought about it, there must be loads of magicians throughout the world. They passed one group of African wizards wearing white robes that were gathered around a purple campfire. Two American witches were talking at a cauldron with the words Salem Witches Institute written on a banner above them. Goblins could also be seen gathered around small piles of gold, and house elves flitted here and there doing small jobs for their masters who were obviously still sleeping.
"Is it just me or has everything suddenly gone green?" asked Ron. It wasn't just Ron. All around them were so many green tents that they looked like small hillocks. Looking closer, Harry saw that they were covered in small shamrocks.
"This must be where all the Irish supporters made camp." Said Hermione. They heard a voice from behind them.
"Ron! Harry! Hermione!" It was Seamus Finnigan, one of their fellow Gryffindor classmates. He was sitting outside one of the tents with his best friend Dean Thomas, another Gryffindor. "It's good to see you. Do you like the decorations? The Ministry isn't happy, anti-muggle security and all that."
"And why shouldn't we show off our colours?" Asked a woman as she came out from the tent they were sitting at. "Much better than what the Bulgarian's have plastered all over their tents. Could you imagine having some surly face constantly looking down at you?"
"Guys, meet my mam." Said Seamus.
"You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" Asked Mrs. Finnigan as she eyed Harry, Ron and Hermione beadily. They assured her they would and then continued walking towards the water tap.
"Like we'd be crazy enough to say anything else surrounded by that lot." Said Ron once they were out of earshot.
"I wonder what Mrs. Finnigan meant when she was talking about the face looking down at you?" said Hermione. They had only been walking a few more minutes when they had their answer. The Bulgarian tents were plastered with posters of a young man with a heavy-set, surly face with dark eyebrows. He did little but blink and scowl.
"Blimey, it's Krum." Said Ron in a whisper.
"What?" Asked Hermione.
"Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!" Said Ron much more excitedly. "The man's a genius Hermione, the way he moves on a broom is like nothing you've ever seen."
"He looks very grumpy." Said Hermione as she looked around pointedly.
"Grumpy? Who cares what he looks like when he's that good? You wait until tonight, you'll see."
The line for the water was already forming when they finally arrived. But it moved quickly, and soon they were on their way back. Occasionally they ran into other students from Hogwarts. Oliver Wood, the former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, dragged Harry over to meet his family, and proudly told them they he'd been selected for the Puddlemere United Reserve Team. They went pass a group of Ravenclaw students and Harry felt his heart flutter when Cho Chang, a pretty girl in the year above, waved at him. Harry attempted to wave back but only succeeded in spilling water over himself, much to the amusement of the girls. To save himself from any retorts from Ron, he quickly steered the conversation onto new things by pointing at a group of teenagers he'd never seen before.
"Who are they? They don't go to Hogwarts."
"Must go to one of those foreign schools I guess." Said Ron with a shrug.
"There are other magical schools?" asked Harry, immediately feeling foolish for having thought Hogwarts was the only one. Of course there must be other schools, he thought, all these foreign witches and wizards must be educated somewhere.
"There are 11 registered schools around the world, three of them are in Europe." Replied Hermione. "Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Four if you include Koldovstoretz in Russia."
"Whereabouts are the other two schools?" asked Harry excitedly, eager to learn more about the foreign institutes.
"Well no one knows the exact locations. The schools are Unplottable like Hogwarts-"
"What's Unplottable mean?" Interrupted Ron.
"It means making a building unmarkable on a map." Explained Hermione patiently. "So that no one can know the exact location without being shown it. But Beauxbatons is a French school somewhere in the Pyrenees mountains, and Durmstrang is somewhere in the north, Scandinavia I suspect-"
"How d'you know so much about these foreigners anyway?" asked Ron rather rudely. Hermione exhaled quickly through her nose before replying. She was clearly getting annoyed at the constant interruptions.
"I read about them in a book Ron. It's this thing with pages and words; maybe you should try reading one every once and a while."
"So what about the other schools outside of Europe?" Asked Harry, tentatively trying to avoid Hermione's rising ire. Hermione eyed him wearily for a second before replying. Obviously despite her flareup at Ron, she was still keen to show off her knowledge as she began listing the remaining schools.
"Ilvermorny is the school for Northern America; it's somewhere in the USA. Uagadou takes students from all over Africa, it's in Uganda. Then there's Mahoutokoro in Japan and Castelobruxo in Brazil-
"Bill once had a penfriend at a school in Brazil when he was at Hogwarts." Interrupted Ron once more. He obviously hadn't learnt his lesson from the last time, thought Harry. "That must be the one."
"Well, maybe Bill can tell you about the other schools then." Said Hermione stiffly, and she continued walking briskly back to their campsite. Ron looked at Harry bewildered.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked.
"You know she likes to show how much she knows. I think interrupting her mid-monologue was a bad move." Replied Harry.
"Women." Replied Ron sagely, as if that explained everything. "Never mind, we'll apologise when we get back and all will be right with the world eh Harry." Harry didn't see why he had to apologise too but decided to gloss over the fact rather than start another argument with his best friend.
"So what happened with Bill and his pen-pal?" asked Harry as they continued to walk.
"Well the Brazilian school and Hogwarts used to do exchanges and Bill wanted to go on one, but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His friend got all offended when Bill told him, and he sent him a cursed hat as punishment. It made Bill's ears shrivel up." Harry was still laughing as he and Ron finally returned to their campsite.
"You've been gone a long time." Said George as they got back.
"Ran into some friends." Replied Ron.
"Where's Hermione?" Asked Harry as he looked around and didn't see her.
"She dropped her water off and went into her tent." Said Fred.
"What did you do this time Ron?" Asked George.
"Nothing." He said as his face went red. "She just got her nose all out of joint because I asked some questions. It's not my fault." Harry quickly explained what had happened. When he finished Fred and George were grinning and shaking their heads.
"Ah Ronniekins," said Fred, "Don't you know anything about girls. Never interrupt them when their talking. Just nod your head."
"Whatever," replied Ron belligerently, "Why haven't you got the fire going yet?"
"Dad was having fun with the matches while you were gone." Said George. "When he got close to running out of them, he decided it might be better to wait for you Harry." Harry gave Ron a gentle nudge towards the girls' tent and told him to apologise before going to help Mr. Weasley light the fire. An hour later they were all gathered around the crackling flames waiting for the water to boil. Hermione had forgiven Ron and was now sitting between him and Harry as they listened to Mr. Weasley give a running commentary on various Ministry officials that walked past their campsite.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office… Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now… Hello, Arnie… Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator – member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know… and that's Bode and Croaker… they're Unspeakables…"
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…" At this point Bill, Charlie and Percy arrived from out of the woods. They were just finishing their lunch when Mr. Weasley jumped up and greeted a man who had arrived at their campsite.
"Aha! The man of the moment. Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far. He was wearing long Quidditch robes with thick stripes of yellow and black. An enormous wasp was splashed across his chest, and his robes were stretched tightly across a belly that evidently was much smaller in younger years. His nose was squashed, probably broken by a stray Bludger earlier in his career Harry thought. But his round blue eyes, short blonde hair and rosy cheeks made him look like an overgrown schoolboy.
"Hello there! Arthur, old chap," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day eh? What a day! Perfect weather: supposed to be a cloudless night you know. All the arrangements going smoothly, not much for me to do but sit back and enjoy the show." Harry noticed a group of other haggard looking Ministry officials running off to sort a large purple fire that seemed to have started in the distance. Percy hurried forward with an outstretched hand, obviously his disapproval of Ludo Bagman didn't stop him from brown-nosing, thought Harry.
"This is my son Percy," said Mr. Weasley with a grin. "He's just started at the Ministry. This is Fred, no wait George sorry… that's Fred. Bill, Charlie, Ron and my daughter Ginny. And that's Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, friends of Ron." Ludo did a double take at the mention of Harry and his eyes performed the usual flick up to his scar.
"Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman. It's thanks to him that we've got such great tickets." Said Mr. Weasley genially. Ludo waved his hand dismissively.
"It was nothing Arthur. Glad to help a friend. Care for a flutter on the match?" He asked as he patted his pocket which gave a telling jingle.
"Oh... go on then." Said Mr. Weasley. "A Galleon on Ireland to win."
"Very well, very well." Said Ludo, Harry thought he caught the trace of disappointment in his voice. "Anyone else?" Ludo asked as he looked around.
"They're a bit young to gamble," replied Mr. Weasley, "Molly wouldn't like it."
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles and three Knuts," Said Fred as he and George pooled all their money, "that Ireland win but Krum catches the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that." Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!" Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting, that's all your savings. If your mother found out…"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance. I'll give you excellent odds on that one. We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"
Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll . . ."
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt." Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha . . . memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh, talk of the devil! Barty!"
A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short grey hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly as he sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby"
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.
"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets." Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.
"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."
"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.
"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve, but that was before carpets were banned, of course." He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun… Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?" Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"
"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts —"
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby." He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.
"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me; I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.
"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.
As the afternoon wore on, Harry found himself growing restless as the energy in the field slowly rose, so he decided to go for a walk. Ron and Hermione were busy playing Exploding Snap with the twins and Ginny, so he set off on his own. Wandering down the path they had used that morning when they arrived, Harry saw that it was now thronging with people. Sales wizards were apparating every few feet and magic was being performed in open defiance of anti-muggle security. Clearly the Ministry had given up trying to supress it, thought Harry. Not really aware of where he was heading, Harry found himself being the subject of the occasional double take, or in the case of children, an obvious pointed finger and cry of "Mum! Look!" Embarrassed, and a little annoyed if he was honest with himself, at the attention, he decided to quicken his pace and keep his head down until he could find an area with more foreign people; perhaps they wouldn't recognise him as easily. He brushed his fringe further down on his forehead to try and hide his scar more effectively. He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly felt himself walk straight into someone going in the opposite direction. He looked up quickly to apologise and suddenly felt as though he'd been hit in the head by a Bludger; it was a girl, a very pretty girl. No, pretty didn't seem adequate enough, Harry thought; beautiful was the only word that sufficed, and it too seemed paltry in comparison to the vision of perfection before him. Silvery-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, but it seemed wispy and lighter-than-air, as it floated as if by a magic all of its own. The angles of her face revealed delicate lines and a slightly protruding chin, all sat upon a slender neck. Her nose was pointed and somehow seemed just right for her face. But it was the eyes that had driven all thought from Harry's head; two pools of deepest blue, two sapphires of endless depth that stared back at him in surprise. She was dressed in a simple pair of blue skinny jeans and a white t-shirt; clearly, she knew how to dress like a muggle Harry thought. But to Harry the understated clothes only served to add to her beauty rather than detract from it. Suddenly realising that he had been standing silently for several seconds he spoke.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." The girl gave a small smile and shook her magnificent head.
"Non, eet was my fault. I wasn't looking eizzer."
"What's your name?" Harry wasn't sure why he asked, he could just have easily been on his way and not looked back, but something about the girl made him not want to leave just yet.
"Fleur Delacour," she replied.
"Well Fleur, split the difference and call it both out faults?" Harry asked.
Her smile grew bigger, "Oui, and what ees your name?" Harry paused before answering, he was loath to draw more attention to himself than he had already. But at the same time he couldn't lie to her, not when she might accidently see his scar and make a guess at who he was.
"Harry Potter," he replied simply. He waited for her eyes to do the customary flick to his forehead but felt a sudden surge of surprise – and was that relief? – when her eyes merely widened slightly, and she nodded.
"Am I right een assuming you are ze 'Arry Potter?"
"Yes."
"Pleasure to meet you 'Arry."
"Pleasure to meet you too." He said, and he meant it. It was rare to find someone who didn't look to his scar, and Harry found he liked it. Not wanting to say goodbye to Fleur just yet, he tried to keep the conversation going. "So, where were you going in such a hurry that you weren't watching where you were going?"
"I was just going for a walk to look around and found myself drawing more attention than I would 'ave liked. So I was trying to keep my 'ead down, so to speak." Harry could understand the feeling of wanting to blend in, it was something he struggled to do. "And you 'Arry? Why deed you walk into me?"
"I don't like drawing attention to myself either. People kept pointing and staring so I walked with my head down same as you."
Fleur gave a rueful smile and said, "Eet would seem we are both two people who don't want attention but who are cursed with having it follow us everywhere non?"
"Yeah. Something like that." Replied Harry, although he couldn't understand why everyone would notice her. Sure she was beautiful, but that wouldn't be enough to make Harry stop and stare at her if she walked past him. The only reason he'd noticed her to begin with was because she walked into him. Maybe she was famous in France, thought Harry, it's not like I have the chance to keep up with Wizarding news over summer, especially outside Britain. Harry was pulled from his thinking as Fleur spoke again.
"So where were you 'eading to 'Arry?"
"Oh, I was just doing the same as you." He said. "Looking around." He clarified when he saw her confusion. A mischievous smile grew on Fleur's face; Harry decided he liked that smile.
"Clearly you were not looking around, or you would not 'ave walked eento me." She replied.
Harry groaned and gave a sigh. "I thought we agreed we walked into each other?"
"Per'aps, but zat is not what I weell be telling people when zey ask." She countered with a smirk. Harry decided he liked that smirk too. What is wrong with me, he thought.
"Well, seeing as how we're both just looking around, how would you like to look around together?" He asked with some trepidation. Why was he so nervous? She was just a girl he'd met less than a minute ago. "We can both try to avoid attention together…" Fleur stopped to think about it for a few seconds before replying.
"That sounds fun I guess. And at least if we are walking togezzer I won't 'ave to worry about you walking eento me again." Harry gave another sigh before they both set off up a gap in the tents that ran perpendicular to the one they had just been on; he was never going to live this down. They walked a few dozen metres before Harry spoke again.
"So… Whereabouts are you from Fleur? Obviously not Hogwarts." Fleur turned to look at Harry.
"I zought eet would be obvious non?" She replied with a raised eyebrow.
"France." Harry said simply. "I'm assuming you go to Beauxbatons then?" She nodded.
"What's it like?" He asked eagerly. Now he could find out more about one of these mystery schools that until that morning he had never heard of before. Fleur's eyes lit up when she answered.
"Eet is amazing! Ze best school een ze world." She said with an air of superiority. "Ze school ees een a beautiful chateau with perfeect gardens and many fountains, and ze teaching ees unparalleled."
"Sounds nice," replied Harry. "But it can't be better than Hogwarts; a magical castle is better than a chateau." He smirked to let her know he was joking. She raised an elegant eyebrow again.
"Oh… So you really zink zat a damp, draughty old castle can compare to Beauxbatons? We 'ave ze best food. Wood nymphs serenade us at every meal. Ze famous Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel attended ze school. 'Ow can 'Ogwarts compare to zat?"
"Well, Merlin himself attended our school, and Dumbledore is said to be the greatest wizard of our time. We may not be serenaded at every meal, but the Great Hall is warm, and the ceiling shows the sky outside." Harry said, and then added as an afterthought, "And as for the food, if you think Beauxbatons has the best then clearly, you've never tried my friend Hagrid's cooking." He had an inward chuckle as he thought of Hagrid's cooking… More likely to break teeth than a Bludger to the face. Not that Fleur needed to know that, he thought.
"Eet sounds nice, but Beauxbatons ees home for me. Surely you understand?" Harry nodded, truly he did feel the same about Hogwarts. It was the only real home he had. He looked forward to going each year and dreaded leaving every summer.
"I must confess, until this morning I had never even heard of Beauxbatons. I'd never given much thought to wizards and witches in other countries. But then I saw all the different people gathered here in this one field and was surprised at the sheer number of us around the world. Now I've got a desire to learn more about magic in other cultures, hence my interest in your school."
"Well I 'ope you can fill that desire 'Arry. And you could start zere." She said, suddenly pointing to a group of dark-skinned teenagers who were gathered outside a large tent with an orange flag on top with the words Uagadou School of Magic written in black lettering. The teens were dressed in the same white robes he'd seen on the older African wizards in the morning. Some of them carried staffs but he couldn't see a wand anywhere. As he watched Harry suddenly saw three of the students disappear, only to be replaced by three cheetahs.
"They're Animagi!" He exclaimed.
"Oui." Said Fleur. "Uagadou students are famed for zeir skills een alchemy, astronomy and transfiguration. Animagi abilities are taught to all students who are interested." Harry had always thought of Animagi as being rare, from what Sirius and Remus had told him last year it was very hard to get the procedure right. It had taken them until 5th year to work it out. Meanwhile in Africa, dozens of kids were learning the skill every year.
"That's different to Hogwarts," he said, "we only get a few classes on Animagi, and alchemy is only taught in our seventh year." Fleur gave him a slightly patronizing look.
"Surely you deed not zink zat all ze schools were ze same?" She asked. "Ze schools teach what zey zink ze students need to know. Eet goes back to ze wider culture of ze countries ze schools are een. Just ze same as we use wands in Europe, zey use zose staffs or 'and gestures to perform magic in Africa."
"How do they perform wandless magic so easily?" Harry asked, eager to keep the conversation going. Fleur shrugged.
"I do not know. But I do know zat ze wand ees a European invention, and as such, the African's learnt to perform magic without zem." Harry was reeling from the revelations. This morning magic had been a familiar thing, now he was beginning to realise just how little he knew. As they stood there talking, the three cheetahs took off down the path, sprinting through the crowds of people. Harry watched them until they were out of sight before he and Fleur continued walking up the path; the inkling of an idea beginning to form in his head.
"How do you know so much about international magic?" Harry asked as they rounded a corner and joined the path that he, Ron and Hermione had traversed that morning.
"I read a lot." She said simply. Realising she wasn't going to expand on her answer, they lapsed into silence. Suddenly they heard a voice off to the right.
"Harry! There you are." It was Mr. Weasley. He was still sitting around the now dying fire outside their tents with Charlie. Harry had been so caught up with the other students and asking Fleur questions that he hadn't paid attention to where they were walking.
"Hello Mr. Weasley." He replied as he walked over to join them.
"Where did you get off to Harry?"
"I was curious about the international people here, so I went for a walk to look around."
"And who's your new friend?" He asked, gently reminding Harry that Fleur was still there. Harry spun round quickly.
"I'm sorry! Forgot my manners. This is Fleur Delacour. We met on the other side of the field. Fleur, this is Mr. Weasley and Charlie. They're my friend's family who invited me to the match." She walked forward and offered her hand.
"Bonjour Meester Weasley." He shook her hand. "Charlee." Charlie seemed momentarily dazed as he looked at Fleur before he quickly shook her hand.
"A pleasure to meet you Miss. Delacour." Replied Mr. Weasley kindly. "So how did you too meet?"
"Oh… 'Arry walked eento me." She said whilst sending a wink in Harry's direction. Harry grimaced and looked down at the ground. "Zo een 'is defence, I zink 'e may 'ave been distracted at ze time." She replied coyly. Charlie started laughing and Harry turned red as he understood what she had implied.
"I was merely keeping my head down as everyone kept staring at me. Made it hard to see where I was going." Mr. Weasley took pity on Harry.
"Do you like Quidditch Fleur?" He asked.
"I enjoy watching ze game and I enjoy flying, but I must confess I am not very good at eet." She replied.
"So who will you be supporting in tonight's match?" Asked Charlie.
"My fazzer and I will support Ireland."
"Is it just the two of you here?"
"Oui. My muzzer and my leetle sister are still in France. She ees too young to really enjoy a Quiddeetch Final, she would get tired very queeckly."
"I understand. And there's always the next World Cup."
"Oui… I hate to seem eempolite, but I should be going back to my fazzer now. Ze match weell be starting soon."
"That's perfectly alright." Said Mr. Weasley. "We should be starting to get ready as well. Very nice to have met you Fleur, I hope you enjoy the match." She bowed her head before turning to Harry.
"And I enjoyed meeting you 'Arry… Maybe tomorrow we could meet up again eef you are not too busy?" She asked. Harry had enjoyed his time with Fleur and was keen to get to know her more. She could tell him so much about France and answer many more of his questions.
"I'd like that." Harry said. He turned to Mr. Weasley, "Will we have time tomorrow?"
"It all depends on how long the match goes on for." He replied. "Some Quidditch finals have lasted for days. But if the match is over tonight, then we'll be heading back to the Burrow around midday tomorrow… So you'll have some time to yourselves."
"Well I'll meet you by the Uagadou tent, shall I? Say, 8:00 in the morning?" Harry said as he turned back to Fleur. She nodded her assent before giving them all a wave and walking back in the direction they had come. She had only just disappeared into the crowd before Charlie started speaking.
"You've bagged a good one there Harry… Trust you to have all the luck."
"What are you talking about?" He asked.
"Fleur. She likes you."
"We're just friends." Harry said quickly. "I'm not even sure if we're that close yet… I only met her half an hour ago…"
"Still, she seems like a nice, young woman." Said Mr. Weasley. "But we'd best start getting ready for the match. Charlie, can you go fetch Percy and Bill? I think they went to look at the Irish supporters." Charlie nodded and disapparated. "Harry, you fetch the others from the tent, I think they're still playing Exploding Snap." Once everyone was gathered back around the campfire, they set off to the vendors to buy merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action… slow everything down… and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."
"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.
"Three pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.
"No, don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.
"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."
"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.
"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"
Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold. And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.
"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"
Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn't stop grinning.
"Where did you go this afternoon Harry?" Asked Hermione as they and Ron walked through the wood. "You were gone for quite some time."
"I just went for a look around… This morning's walk piqued my interest."
"I still can't understand what all the fuss is over these foreigners Harry." Said Ron brashly. "It's not like it'll affect you when you live and study in Britain."
"Look who's talking." Said Hermione. "Your Krum's #1 Fan, and last time I looked he wasn't British Ron."
"That's different Hermione. The man's a major sporting icon, I'm allowed to like him. It doesn't mean I'm interested in all Bulgarian wizards."
"Nothing bad ever came from learning about other cultures Ron, many careers involve international connections… you'd do well to follow Harry's example."
"And," said Charlie from behind them, "you never know who you might run into when exploring these cultures. Right Harry?" He gave him a conspiratorial wink before going back to walking with Bill.
"What's he on about?" Asked Ron.
"Nothing." Said Harry.
"That's not nothing, he winked at you! What's going on?"
"Harry met a French girl this afternoon." Said Charlie, once again joining the conversation. Harry wished he'd stay quiet.
"What French girl?" Asked Ron.
"A very pretty French girl, she's here to watch the match same as everyone else." Replied Charlie. "Though she seemed to be quite interested in Harry."
"She wasn't that interested in me." Harry protested. "She just shared an interest in other cultures too. She was able to tell me more about that Uagadou school in Africa."
"Well that's great Harry." Said Hermione happily. "I'm glad to see you actually showing an interest in something besides Quidditch."
"Oh he's showing quite an interest alright," said Charlie with a grin, "he's going to see her again tomorrow morning." Harry could feel himself turning red.
"That was her idea, I merely agreed to it." He said hotly, he was beginning to get annoyed. "And it's not like I'll see her after tomorrow, she is from France after all."
"But you can always write her a letter Harry…" Hermione said. "You shouldn't let an opportunity like this pass you by."
Harry felt like he was a deer surrounded by wolves, each one rushing in to bite at his back when it was unprotected. However, he did like Hermione's idea… Not that he'd tell her that. Maybe he would suggest it to Fleur tomorrow. Before he could reply however they emerged on the other side of the woods and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.
"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.
"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."
The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.
The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family — safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer…
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!...
Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, Hogsmeade…
Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and looked over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar…
"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously.
The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn't Dobby - it was, however, unmistakably a house elf, as Harry's friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family.
"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected - though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf - that this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.
"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."
"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"
"Yeah, I am," said Harry.
"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.
"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"
"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."
"Why?" said Harry, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"
"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly.
"Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."
"Why not?" said Harry.
Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."
"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well — why shouldn't he be paid?"
Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.
"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."
"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.
"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."
"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.
"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."
She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to the others.
"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"
"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.
Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvet covered, tasselled program.
" 'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,' " she read aloud.
"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.
"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.
Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message
(Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed
BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"
"What are veela?"
But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women… the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen… except that they weren't - they couldn't be - human. This puzzled Harry for a moment while he tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white gold hair fan out behind them without wind… but then the music started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not being human - in fact, he stopped worrying about anything at all. The veela had started to dance, and Harry's mind had gone completely and blissfully blank. All that mattered in the world was that he kept watching the veela, because if they stopped dancing, terrible things would happen… And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through Harry's dazed mind. He wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea… but would it be good enough?
"Harry, what are you doing?" said Hermione's voice from a long way off.
The music stopped. Harry blinked. He was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard. Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Harry was with them; he would, of course, be supporting Bulgaria, and he wondered vaguely why he had a large green shamrock pinned to his chest. Ron, meanwhile, was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.
"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say.
"Huh?" said Ron, staring open-mouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field. Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat.
"Honestly!" she said.
"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!" Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it —
"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.
"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"
The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!"
A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova!"
A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Harry quickly focused his own. Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"
Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word "Firebolt" on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a moustache to rival Uncle Vernon's, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the moustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Harry spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open —four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!..."
Harry knew as he lay in bed that night listening to Ron snore that he'd never seen quidditch like that before. The Irish Chasers had been a well-oiled trio that passed the Quaffle so fast even Ludo hadn't been able to keep up. The speed and poise of all the flyers had been leagues above anything he'd seen at Hogwarts, and yet Krum had outshone them all. The dirty tactics seemed to be a constant no matter what level you played at, and the team mascots had proved to be almost as entertaining as the game itself. Looking back, he couldn't understand what had made the veela seem so appealing. Sure they had been beautiful, but he was never one to fall for a girl based only on their looks. He made a mental note to ask Hermione what made the veela alluring. He was glad the leprechauns had goaded them into showing their more avian form, it made it easier to resist their pull when they were angry. The longer he lay there thinking about it, the more he agreed with Mr. Weasley; you definitely shouldn't go for girls based on looks alone. He saw the green glow of a leprechaun lantern go whizzing over the tent and listened to the sounds of the Irish supporters celebrating in the distance. He began to imagine himself on his Firebolt performing the moves he'd witnessed tonight, with thousands of adoring fans screaming their praises. His name in gold lettering on the back of his Quidditch robes… Ron gave a particularly loud snore and Harry was pulled back to the present. He shifted onto his side to try and get comfortable. The one upside from all the excitement after the match, he thought, was that everyone had forgotten about Fleur for the time being. He remembered their agreement to meet the next morning, and he found himself drifting off to sleep with images of the beautiful girl filling his mind.
He woke abruptly to the sound of someone shouting his name.
"Harry! Ron! Get up now, this is urgent!" Harry sat up and looked around to see Mr. Weasley clutching his wand, a panicky look on his face.
"What's going on?" He asked. He started to become aware of noises from the camp; noises that hadn't been there before. He heard screaming, the sounds of people running and shouting. Explosions rent the air as booms and flashes of light illuminated the interior of the tent. Realising that something was terribly wrong, he hopped down from his bunk and began reaching for his clothes. But Mr. Weasley, who Harry now saw had pulled his jeans over his pyjamas, said, "No time Harry, just grab a jacket and get outside, quickly!" Harry exited the tent quickly, Ron right behind him.
There were a few fires still burning, and by their light Harry could see hundreds of people running into the woods past their campsite. Turning in the opposite direction, Harry saw flashes of pale light, as sparks were sent into the night sky. More explosions rent the air as a crowd of people seemed to be moving their way. As they got closer, Harry could see that the people wore masks and black hoods on their heads. More and more people were running to join the crowd. His gaze was drawn upwards as he saw the Robert's family suspended in the air above the crowd. They seemed to be helpless to the crowd below them as they were manipulated into gruesome shapes and made to spin around.
"That's sick." Said Ron. They were then joined by Hermione and Ginny. Bill, Charlie and Percy came out of the boys' tent with wands drawn and took off in the direction of the crowd. Mr. Weasley came out following the twins. "We're going to help the Ministry. You lot get into the woods and stick together. I'll come get you when this is over." He then drew his wand and took after the three eldest boys.
"Come on." Said Fred as he took Ginny's hand and took off in the direction of the woods. The others followed but stopped when they got to the woods to look back at the scene behind them. The Ministry wizards were struggling to get through the ever swelling crowd of wizards. The wood, which had previously been lit by green and red lanterns, was now dark. Shadowy figures ran through the trees as more and more people tried to escape the carnage. Voices called out, children cried, and anxious shouts surrounded them as they echoed throughout the wood. Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.
"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid — lumos!"
She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.
"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley
"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.
"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron. Everybody present knew that "Mudblood" was a very offensive term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage.
"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.
"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"
"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"
Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling. "Well . . . if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.
"Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again.
"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.
"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"
Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite. A huddle of teenagers in pyjamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, "Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue —"
"Er - what?" said Ron.
"Oh..." The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as they walked on they distinctly heard her say, "'Ogwarts."
"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.
FLEUR! The thought suddenly came into Harry's head, what had happened to her in all this chaos? Her tent was on the same side of the camp as where the riot had started; how could Harry have forgotten about her? He was just about to voice his worry when everyone started running again and he felt Ron, Hermione and himself being pushed deeper into the wood. Bodies jostled up against him and he felt himself being separated from the others.
"Ron! Hermione!"
"Harry?" Came the sound of Hermione's voice from the other side of a group of people. Harry tried to push through but felt himself trip over something on the ground, it was a tree root. Before he could get back up, he felt the pain of feet on his back as people continued to flee through the darkness, unaware of his body lying prone on the ground. He rolled to the side to try and get off the path. He felt himself collide painfully with a tree and opened his eyes to look around. Everything was darker than ever, but the main rush of panicked people seemed to have passed. His part of the woods was now empty. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Harry tried to sit up and felt his back burn in protest; at least one rib was definitely broken. As he sat there for a few minutes waiting for the pain to subside, he became aware of a rustling sound further up the path. He turned to see Winky fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving haltingly, as if being held back by some invisible force.
"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and laboured to keep running. "People high – high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!" And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her. Harry tried to rise again and gave a low groan as he breathed through the pain; he needed to find Ron and Hermione again. He walked further into the wood, trying to remember what direction they had last been travelling in. He saw a group of goblins gathered round a large pile of Galleons, but he kept moving. He stopped to lean against a tree, the pain was worse the harder he breathed. Suddenly Ludo Bagman appeared on the path from behind a tree looking strained. He turned to look at Harry.
"Who's that?" He said while walking up to Harry. He drew his wand and lit the tip. "Harry?! What are you doing in the woods all alone?" Harry gave a look of surprise.
"There's a riot going on Mr. Bagman-"
"What?!"
"In the field, a large crowd is tormenting that family of Muggles."
Bagman swore loudly before Disapparating on the spot. For the Director of Magical Games and Sports, he certainly didn't seem to be in any way organised, Harry thought. He was just about to set off up the path again when he heard a familiar voice off in the trees to his right.
"Get off me! Let me go!" It was Fleur's voice! A scream rent the night air and Harry took off through the trees. The pain in his back forgotten as the low-hanging branches tore at his pyjamas and skin. He had to get to Fleur and see what was going on. He crashed out of the trees and into a small dark clearing. On the other side he saw Fleur surrounded by three swarthy men; her pyjamas appeared to be torn slightly. One of them was holding Fleur up against a tree by her throat, her eyes were bulging as she struggled to breathe. Her arms and legs beating helplessly against the man's body.
"Try to scream for help, would you?" He said belligerently. "Let's see how well you scream now!" He used his free hand to deliver a blow to her face. Harry winced as it made contact. He felt rage course through him at the scene in front of his eyes, he drew his wand and advanced on the group.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" He roared as he pointed his wand at the first man. The spell connected with his back and he went rigid before falling forwards. Fleur ducked out from under him and fell to her hands and knees as she retched and desperately tried to breathe. The second and third men spun around and drew their own wands at the sight of the lone boy facing them. The second sent a blazing red spell barrelling towards Harry and he ducked behind a tree as the spell made contact, blistering the bark as it did so. Harry peeked back around to see the two men had fanned out to either side, he would soon be trapped. Fleur was momentarily forgotten, and that was the way Harry wanted to keep it. He surged forward back into the trees, the two men following clumsily. He heard more shouting, and two more jets of pale light went flying overhead. He stopped and turned before firing another Full-Body Bind Curse at one of the wizards. It missed and Harry continued running. He cursed his lack of knowledge of offensive spells, why did Defence Against the Dark Arts not teach them how to duel properly? He felt another spell being cast and he ducked to the side before a green curse shot past him, the green light chilled Harry though he didn't know why… it seemed strangely familiar. He turned to his left and saw the third wizard appear from behind a tree 10 metres away. His eyes landed on Harry, but before he could react Harry raised his own wand and cried "FLIPENDO!" The wizard was hurled backwards into the tree and his head hit the trunk with a satisfying thump. He crumpled to the ground and groaned wearily.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Shouted a voice behind him, and Harry turned to see the second wizard pointing his wand at Harry. The spell hit and Harry felt his wand get ripped from his hand as it went flying off into the gloom. The man advanced and Harry took off back towards the clearing. He heard another shout behind him and felt a pressure around his legs as he fell to the ground hard. He rolled over; his legs still locked together. The second wizard stood in front of him, a look of grim satisfaction upon his face.
"This will teach you not to interfere in the business of adults, boy." He raised his wand and opened his mouth the cast when another voice called out behind him.
"STUPEFY!"
A jet of red light blasted him in the back, and he was thrown forward over Harry and hit the ground unconscious. Harry looked up to see Fleur standing with her wand pointed at the man's body, a look of pure hatred on her face. Blood was running down her cheek from where she had been struck. When she saw he was no longer a threat, she lowered her wand and looked at Harry. The hatred leaving her face as she rushed over to him.
"'Arry! Are you alright? What 'appened?" Her voice was hoarse.
"Leg-locker curse, do you think you could release me?" He asked wearily. The pain returning now that the adrenaline was fading. Fleur raised her wand and performed the counter-curse. Harry felt the tension around his legs release
"Thank you, Fleur, I think you just saved my life." She made a dismissive gesture.
"You saved mine first." She replied. "Eet was the least I could do."
Harry got to his feet gingerly.
"Are you alright?" She asked again. Harry gave a small grunt of pain.
"A think a few ribs might be broken."
"Come, we must get you to a 'ealer. They can feex bones easily enough."
"Wait," Harry said, "I lost my wand in the fight, I need to find it before we go anywhere. I think it was over here somewhere." He started walking back to the area where he'd lost it, Fleur by his side.
"Are you OK?" He asked gently. "What they were doing… what they were going to do. That would upset anyone."
Fleur gave a slow nod, as though she hadn't quite heard what Harry had said. "I weell be fine. Ze only damage ees to my throat…"
"We'll get the healers to take fix that too." Harry replied comfortingly. "What should we do with the three men?"
"Once we 'ave found your wand, we will find one of your Ministry workers and let zem deal weeth ze scum." She replied confidently. Before he could say anything in reply, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to see the third wizard had appeared behind them, obviously awoken from his collision with the tree, and had let loose a fiery purple bolt at Fleur. Harry didn't have his wand, and Fleur was still facing the other direction, unaware of the imminent danger speeding towards her. Acting on instinct, Harry pushed Fleur out of the path of the spell just as it made contact with the right side of his chest.
Pain… Pain like nothing Harry had felt before. It spread through his body from his chest as he lay on the ground for the second time that night. He felt his vision grow darker as his other senses faded, nothing else could penetrate the agony his body was subject to. He was dimly aware of more shouts and another jet of red light screaming from the end of Fleur's wand before he started to give in to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness. He felt hair brush across his face… it tickled slightly… A voice called his name "'Arry?!"
He knew he should try to respond… give some indication that he was alright… but to stay awake meant to endure the pain… the darkness was calling, and he slipped into its blissful embrace.
Let me know what you think... Like I said at the start, some scenes were copied directly from the book and I make no pretense of them being mine... In later chapters this won't happen, but it was quite hard to string together my scenes without some of the filling from the original book in between.