The British Veela

by Asmodeus Stahl

Instead of attending Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour attends Hogwarts. When Harry Potter arrives, the young Ravenclaw and the Boy-Who-Lived strike up an unlikely friendship. Written for the Harry/Fleur Discord Server's Hope Collection.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Whether it be characters or plots, anything familiar you see in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else owns the rights.

Author's Note: Hello everybody, Asmodeus here. As you read in the summary, this is going to be a Harry/Fleur one-shot. It was written for the Flowerpot Discord server's Hope Collection — discord . gg / q63UUxD. The Hope Collection, originally entitled the Emily Collection, is a collection of Flowerpot works dedicated to all cancer patients and cancer survivors.

Lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful Beta, Athena Hope, for her help editing this fic and being willing to partake in my planning session.

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Self-Promotion: I have a Discord Server where you can talk with me and other readers for free. Also as part of the server, you get early access to all of my chapters. To join, paste the following link into a new tab and remove the spaces: discord . gg / Bfwywpf

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September 1st, 1991

Harry Potter was a nervous mess. He was about to be sorted into some kind of house at a school of magic and he had no clue how he was going to be sorted, or how to even do magic. His new friend, Ron Weasley, had said that the sorting was a painful experience. Harry was no stranger to pain, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to the sorting ceremony if what Ron had told him was true.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of screams coming from a few of his classmates.

"What the —" Harry began as he turned to look at where the screams were coming from, only to halt mid-sentence upon seeing twenty pale-white ghosts stream through the wall of the entrance hall behind him.

The ghosts appeared to be arguing with one another over somebody named "Peeves" and not even paying any attention to the first years. Whoever this Peeves character was, Harry mused to himself, he must've really screwed up for twenty ghosts to be angry at him.

The ghosts shortly noticed the new students, apparently surprised to see them in the entrance hall. The ghost of the Fat Friar attempted to strike up a conversation with some of the first years near him, only for them to simply respond mutely with nods of their heads. He then attempted to sway people to join his old house, Hufflepuff, before a sharp voice interrupted him.

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall's return sent the ghosts streaming through the wall opposite the one they had entered from, leaving her alone with the first years.

"Now, form a line and follow me into the Great Hall," she instructed. The first years instantly followed her instructions and began walking towards the Great Hall in single file. Harry fell into place ahead of Ron and was rather surprised Ron didn't run him over on their way into the Great Hall. Harry's legs felt like they each weighed as much as Dudley — it was as if they were made of lead.

As they crossed the threshold of the Great Hall, Harry and his classmates oohed and aahed at the ceiling. If Harry didn't know any better, he would say that the Great Hall was roofless; for above him was an array of stars freckled across a cloudy sky with a half-moon glowing forebodingly — it looked exactly like the night sky outside the castle. All around the Great Hall were candles of various shapes and sizes, thousands of them, providing eerily calm lighting to the room.

Hundreds of faces stared at Harry and his year mates from the respective house tables. As Harry's eyes moved across the room, he spotted a pair of redheaded twins that could only have been Ron's brothers, Fred and George, sitting at the far left table. He spotted a dark-haired boy who seemed to exude self-confidence sitting at the next table over, and a group of older students sitting in a pack at the close end of the table on the far right. But the person that most caught Harry's eye was sitting at the center table under a blue banner.

From what Harry could see, she appeared to be in her third or fourth year and had long, silvery-blonde hair flowing midway down her back. Her face reminded Harry of that of an angel from the stained glass windows at the church the Dursleys went to and her hair was inexplicably reflecting the light of the moon above.

Harry thought he and the girl had made eye contact for a few fleeting moments before he continued his gaze around the room, but he wasn't entirely sure. His analysis of the room was quickly cut short as a warbly old voice began to sing.

He turned his attention back towards the front of the line where he discovered that Professor McGonagall had placed a three-legged wooden stool with a raggedy old hat on top of it. Harry realized with a start that it was the hat that was singing.

'What an odd thing to use magic to make a hat do,' Harry thought to himself as the hat sang on and on about the four houses and what each represented. Almost as soon as the hat finished its song, the entire Great Hall burst into a round of applause — presumably for the song — before going dead silent again as Professor McGonagall stepped forward, a roll of parchment in her hand.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she instructed before calling out the first of his classmate's names. "Abbot, Hannah."

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled and shuffled out of the line to the stool, where she placed the hat on her head. After a few short moments, the hat opened its brim and yelled out a single word, loud and clear. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hannah quickly removed the hat, placed it back on the stool, and walked over to the table where the dark-haired boy exuding confidence that Harry had noticed was sitting. She sat down next to the boy as the round of applause from the hall died out and the Fat Friar gave her a large smile.

The next few students went to Hufflepuff as well before the hat sorted Terry Boot into Ravenclaw. As he walked over to where the angel-like girl was sitting, several older Ravenclaw boys stood up and gave Terry handshakes.

It took a few more sortings before Millicent Bulstrode became the first member of Slytherin House. The group had their eyes fixated on the girl the entire time she walked from stool to table, Harry noticed. He did not even bother to question why and assumed it was something to do with Slytherin House.

After many more sortings, which saw Hermione and Neville go to Gryffindor; Draco Malfoy go to Slytherin; and a pair of identical twins split up between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, respectively. After them, it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry," Professor McGonagall intoned, causing whispers to break out across the room.

"Potter? Did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

As Harry put the hat on, the last sight he saw was kids of all ages from all four houses craning their heads to try and get a good look at him. When the hat slipped over his eyes, obscuring his view of the crowd, he closed them and waited for the hat to call out what house he'd be in.

"Hmm," said a small voice that Harry realized was the hat in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So, where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool as tight as he could, the pain of his overgrown nails biting into the wood not fazing him as he desperately thought, 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.'

"Not Slytherin, eh?" the hat replied. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!" The hat yelled out the last word to the hall, causing Harry to reach up and remove the hat to find the hall looking at him in dead silence.

As he began to trudge over to the Gryffindor table, he heard someone begin to clap. He looked over to find that it was the pretty Ravenclaw girl that he had locked eyes with before the sorting. Their eyes locked briefly once more and she gave him a soft smile before the rest of the hall joined her in clapping for Harry and he had to look away to make sure he didn't run into anyone or anything on his way to the table.

As he sat down across from the oldest Weasley brother, Percy, the sorting quickly wrapped up with Ron and a dark-skinned boy named Dean Thomas joining Harry in Gryffindor, Lisa Turpin joining Ravenclaw, and Blaise Zabini joining Slytherin.

Almost as soon as Blaise sat down at the Slytherin table, Dumbledore rose and gave a short address to the assembled students and staff before commencing the feast. There was nothing of note in Dumbledore's remarks, which could not have lasted longer than 30 seconds at most, so Harry immediately began to dig into the feast.

Once Harry had eaten his fill, he asked Percy a question that had been on the forefront of his mind since his sorting had concluded. "Who was that girl that began clapping for me after my sorting?"

Percy smiled and replied, "You asked the right person, Harry. Her name is Fleur Delacour. She's a third year Ravenclaw. Her family immigrated to Britain from France during the war against Grindelwald. Her family is part veela, you see."

Thanking Percy for the information he had provided, Harry resolved to do more research into the things that Percy had mentioned, such as Grindelwald and veela.

As dessert appeared on the table, Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking about the girl that had captivated him so. 'Fleur Delacour… what a pretty name.'

---

May 8th and 29th, 1993

"Welcome to the annual Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch Match! As usual, I'm Lee Jordan, your charming commentator. Now let's meet our teams. Starting for the Gryffindor Lions we have—"

"HALT!" rang the amplified voice of Professor McGonagall throughout the stadium. "This match has been canceled."

"But, Professor!" Oliver Wood shouted back. "We've got to play — the cup — Gryffindor —"

Professor McGonagall either didn't hear him or simply ignored him — if Harry had to bet, he would have bet on the latter — and continued addressing the packed stadium. "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

She then held her wand up to her throat, muttered a spell under her breath, which Harry deduced canceled whatever amplification charm she had cast on her vocal cords, and beckoned him over. "Potter, I think you'd better come with me…"

Harry was quite confused and wondered how the professor could possibly suspect his involvement in what he assumed to be another petrification. However, as he was walking toward her, he found Ron taking long strides to reach him. Surprisingly, Professor McGonagall didn't object, but rather seemed oddly pleased that he had joined the two, remarking, "Yes, perhaps you'd better come too, Weasley…"

At that, Harry got a sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no good reason that immediately came to his mind that explained why Professor McGonagall would want to talk with both him and Ron — except one. Hermione had been petrified, or, Merlin forbid, killed.

As Professor McGonagall guided the boys to the infirmary, she told them, "There has been another attack… another double attack."

When she pushed open the door, Harry was met with something much worse than he had imagined. He knew both people lying on the beds being tended to by Madam Pomfrey.

Just as Harry had predicted, Hermione was lying completely still on one of the beds, her eyes open and glassy-eyed.

"Hermione!" Ron groaned upon seeing her.

What caused Harry to despair, however, was not the sight of Hermione. It was the sight of Fleur, lying on the bed next to Hermione; her long, silvery-blonde hair fanned out behind her like a halo. One of her hands was curled inwards in front of her face as if she had been holding something in it when the mysterious creature from the Chamber of Secrets struck.

"Fleur…" he whispered softly upon seeing her body lying on the bed. He had grown relatively close to the fourth year Ravenclaw the previous year. The two had met up in the library a few times since they had locked eyes during Harry's sorting the previous year and had become close friends. Harry considered her his closest friend that wasn't Ron or Hermione, and as a result, was devastated to see her lying petrified.

Harry averted his gaze from his two closest female friends, the sight of them lying petrified brought tears to his eyes. He resolved at that moment to do whatever he had to do to revive them from their state of petrification. So, when he and Ron returned to visit Hermione a few weeks later, and he found the torn page of the library book that Hermione had kept tightly clenched in her palm — which told the boys that the mysterious beast was a Basilisk — Harry immediately resolved that he would talk to Professor McGonagall as soon as possible to try and put an end to the petrifications and make it safe for Fleur and Hermione to be revived

---

May 30, 1993

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Riddle had wailed as Harry stabbed the diary with the broken-off basilisk fang. It had taken almost the entire year, but the fearsome beast of the Chamber of Secrets had been vanquished.

Any moment now, Fleur, Hermione, and the other petrified victims would be waking up. Madam Pomfrey had distributed the Mandrake Restorative Draught to the basilisk's victims a few minutes ago, and she had predicted they'd wake up within five minutes of being dosed.

As Harry sat at the foot of Fleur's bed, thinking back over the fight in the Chamber and the revelation that Tom — the intelligent, charismatic boy he'd been talking to for a good portion of the last three and half months via the diary — was the same man as the Dark Lord who had killed his parents, he heard a soft groan come from the other side of the bed. Harry had immediately jumped up from his seat and made his way over to the head of the bed, where Fleur was slowly sitting up, clutching her head.

"Harry?" she asked weakly.

"Yes, Fleur, it's me," Harry responded softly.

"What happened? The last thing I remember is that Hermione and I were using my compact mirror to peek around the corner of the corridor outside the library and I saw this awful pair of sulfur yellow eyes in the mirror — wait, Hermione! Is Hermione okay?!" She half-yelped the last part and attempted to throw the covers off her, but Harry held her back.

"Don't worry, Fleur, she's fine. The basilisk — the beast in the Chamber of Secrets — petrified both of you. Looking at the reflection of its eyes in the mirror saved your lives. Hermione is alive because of you."

Fleur slumped back down in relief. "I'm glad to hear that she is okay. I know she means a lot to you."

Before Harry could say anything, Fleur continued, "Hermione and I knew it was a basilisk. We found a book in the library — Most Macabre Monstrosities — that had a whole section on basilisks. Once Hermione gave it a read, she knew it was a basilisk and, believe it or not —"

"She tore a page out of it," Harry interjected. "Ron and I spotted it in her hand when we came to visit you two yesterday. Because of the note she scrawled on the bottom of the page, we were able to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets was."

"Where was it?" Fleur asked as she sat up, looking much healthier than the last time she tried.

"The entrance was hidden, believe it or not, inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. You had to speak in Parseltongue to one of the taps — the one with the snake engraving on it."

Fleur narrowed her eyes at the last half of Harry's response. "And you know how to enter the Chamber of Secrets how?"

Harry scratched the back of his head bashfully, "Well, Ron and I immediately decided to tell Professor McGonagall about our discoveries, but, before we could do so, we found out that the Heir had kidnapped Ron's younger sister, Ginny, and taken her down into the Chamber. The accompanying note read 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Before Harry could continue, Fleur interjected, "And how exactly did you find out that — Ginny, was it? — was taken down into the Chamber? I'm no expert, but that doesn't seem like something Professor McGonagall would announce to the whole school."

"We may or may not have eavesdropped on the staff meeting, but that's not important."

Fleur opened her mouth to reply, but Harry kept on talking, "At the meeting, the professors basically pressured Lockhart into rescuing Ginny. Naturally, Lockhart had no clue where the entrance to the Chamber was and how to get in. What surprised Ron and me when we went to tell Lockhart how to get in and help him save Ginny was that he was trying to pull a runner. Abandoning Ginny to die."

"We were able to force him to come with us to the Chamber, whereupon he tried and failed to obliviate us with Ron's wand. Long story short, with an insane amount of luck and the Sword of Gryffindor, I managed to kill the Basilisk."

As Harry finished narrating the day's events, Fleur stood up from the bed and moved next to Harry. "Thank you, Harry, for helping revive me."

She then enveloped him in a soft, warm hug and gave him a quick peck on the cheek in a very French manner.

Before Harry could say anything, a groan emanated through the room coming from the next bed over — Hermione had finally woken up. Upon hearing this groan, a slightly blushing Harry gave Fleur a smile before moving over a bed to tend to Hermione as she recovered from her petrification.

---

September 1st, 1993

Harry awoke from darkness and the sound of terrible, terrified, pleading screams to the sensation of slapping his face and asking in a worried tone of voice, "Harry! Harry! Are you all right?!"

"W-what?" he asked as he opened his eyes. The Hogwarts Express appeared to be moving again and the lights had come back on. He knew he had slid out of his seat onto the floor because Ron and Hermione were kneeling on the ground next to him, and above them, he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching.

As Hermione and Ron heaved Harry back into his seat, Ron asked nervously, "Are you okay?"

Harry brushed him off, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He then continued in a more serious tone, "What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?"

Ron and Hermione glanced nervously at one another before Ron answered, "No one screamed, Harry."

"But, I heard screaming —" Harry began to say before a loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

"What was that thing?" he asked Lupin as he accepted the chocolate.

"A Dementor," Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else, replied. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone's eyes fell upon Lupin as he crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I'm going to go search the train to see if anybody else was affected, excuse me…"

As soon as Professor Lupin had exited into the corridor, Harry closed the compartment door and turned to the others, and began a conversation about their experiences during the Dementor incident which only made Harry feel worse both physically and mentally. As his body felt weaker and weaker and he felt the urge to shiver, he asked himself why he passed out and fallen out of his seat when no one else had.

Not much later, there was a knock on the compartment door — Professor Lupin had returned. He wasn't alone, though. Behind him was none other than Fleur Delacour.

"I encountered Miss Delacour, here, while making my rounds on the train," he began. "She — like you, Harry — was heavily affected by the Dementors' presence. I thought it might be best to bring her here so you two could compare your experiences, should you wish. I presumed it might also help you, Harry, feel less ashamed about being the only one to be severely affected."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Lupin, wondering how the man knew what he had begun to feel shameful for being the only one to fall to pieces during the visit.

Lupin chuckled quietly at Harry's reaction and said, "Your father's mannerisms were much the same as yours. It makes it easy for me to guess how you're feeling."

Harry's eyes were now wide open, staring at Lupin. However, before he could ask any further questions, Lupin continued, "Now, I really must go talk to the driver. We should be at Hogwarts shortly. Oh, and Harry? Eat the chocolate. It's not poisoned and it will really help."

With that Lupin strolled out of the compartment, shutting the door behind him and leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone with Fleur.

Harry's mind was racing. Lupin had mentioned his father. Had Lupin known him? Why hadn't he heard of Lupin before? Surely if he was one of his father's friends, he would have tried to be part of Harry's life.

Harry's rapid-paced stream of thoughts was broken by Fleur.

"So you were also affected by the Dementors, Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry replied dumbly before redirecting his focus from his thoughts to the conversation. "Oh, yes. The Dementors…" Harry gave a noticeable shiver. "When they came close to the compartment, I passed out. I heard the sound of a woman pleading and screaming, clearly terrified of something. When I woke up, I was lying on the ground with Ron and Hermione kneeling next to me."

Another set of shivers racked Harry's body as he finished retelling what had happened.

"My experience was similar," Fleur began. "However, I think it might be best to wait to tell it until you have eaten the chocolate Professor Lupin gave you. He gave me some earlier when we first met — it really helped."

Wanting to hear about Fleur's experience, Harry raised the bar of chocolate to his mouth and bit off a chunk with a loud crunch. He immediately felt infinitely better. Sudden warmth began to spread outwards to the tips of his fingers and toes and he felt the color begin to return to his face.

Fleur smiled and teased, "I told you it helped," before adopting a much darker tone. "As I'm sure you and your friends are aware, I am part veela. Veela are creatures of light and fire. Dementors are creatures of darkness. We… do not mix well. As a result, when the Dementor glided past my compartment I began to feel sick and, according to my friends, passed out. Unlike you, however, I did not hear anything while in that state of darkness."

Harry and Fleur exchanged more details about their experiences with the Dementors and caught up with each other for the rest of the train ride on one side of the compartment, while Ron and Hermione just looked on awkwardly, not knowing what to say — and if to say anything at all.

---

November 8th, 1993

"If Snape is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off!" Ron announced as he, Harry, and Hermione were walking to Lupin's classroom after lunch.

"Check who's in there, Hermione," he added when the trio reached the classroom.

Hermione rolled her eyes and peered around the classroom door, reporting back, "We're clear. Lupin is back."

As the trio entered the classroom, Harry remarked to himself, 'Lupin doesn't look well at all. His robes seem looser and his eyes have massive shadows under them.'

Regardless of Lupin's physical state, Harry was happy to have him back. He had quickly become Harry's favorite teacher and was an infinitely better teacher than Snape was.

After the massive clamor at the start of class about whether or not everyone had to write the essay that Snape had assigned — "It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?" — and Lupin informing them, much to Hermione's disappointment, that they did not have to write it, class seemed to fly by.

Lupin showed the class a very odd creature called a Hinkypunk. It was a rather small creature that seemed like it was made of wisps of smoke — frail and harmless, Harry thought.

According to Lupin, it was anything but harmless. Hinkypunks, Lupin told the class, lured travelers into bogs using the lantern-like appendage dangling from its head. Lupin never actually said what happened to the travelers that were lured in by Hinkypunks, but Harry was certain that it was nothing good.

After the bell rang to end class, everyone — Harry included — began to pack up their things and head for through. Before Harry could leave the classroom, Lupin's voice cut through the room, "Wait a moment, Harry. I'd like a word."

Ron and Hermione looked at him as if asking, "Do you want us to stay with you?"

Harry gave a small shake of his head. Whatever Lupin wanted to talk about, he'd tell them later. Better if only he was late to their next class than all three of them.

"I heard about the match," Lupin said as Harry doubled back to talk with him, "and I'm sorry to hear about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," Harry replied morosely. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year I arrived at Hogwarts. My classmates used to play a stupid game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. It took until a boy named Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, for the professors to forbid us to go near it. No broomstick — not even the new Firebolt — would stand a chance against it."

Harry debated over what to say next before gritting his teeth and asking, "Did you hear about the Dementors too?"

Lupin quickly glanced at him and responded, "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us had ever seen Professor Dumbledore that angry in the past. They have been growing restless for quite some time… furious at the Headmaster's refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Harry responded morosely. He hesitated for a moment, but that was all it took for the question he had to ask to burst from him before he could prevent it. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? I mean, Fleur has a reason why they affect her. I don't. Am I just —?"

Lupin cut Harry off mid-sentence, as if he was reading Harry's mind, "It has nothing to do with weakness. The Dementors affect you worse than the others because the horrors in your past are much darker than those that they have — if they have any at all."

Lupin sighed. "You see, Harry, Dementors are among the foulest beings to walk this earth. They drain peace, hope, happiness, and any other positive emotion you can think of out of the air around them and replace them with misery and despair. Their effects are so foul that even Muggles feel their presence, though they cannot see them.

"If a Dementor can feed on you long enough, it will reduce you to something much akin to itself… a dark, soulless husk of your former self. The only memories they will leave you with are the worst experiences of your life. Falling off your broom is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. What happened to you is enough to make anyone fall off their broom."

Harry hung his head, "I know… but it doesn't make me feel any better. I feel hopeless when facing them. Is there any way to defend against them?"

Asking that question jogged Harry's memory of something Hermione had said back on the train, "Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at the Dementor, and it turned around and sort of… glided away…"

Before Lupin could say anything, Harry exclaimed, "You made the Dementor on the train back off!"

Lupin wrung his hands and replied carefully, "There are… certain defenses one can use to protect against Dementors, yes. However, there was only one Dementor on the train. As you can likely imagine, the more Dementors there are, the harder it is to defend against them."

Harry immediately responded, "What defenses? Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Hary…" Lupin began. "Quite the contrary, actually…"

Harry wouldn't hear it, though. "But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them —"

At that, Lupin looked into Harry's eyes and could feel the determination in them. He hesitated before acquiescing, "Well… all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

"Thank you so much, Professor!" Harry replied, overjoyed.

He moved to pick his belongings up from where he'd left them and run to class, hoping that Hagrid wouldn't mind his tardiness, before pausing and turning back to Professor Lupin.

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Fleur was also affected by the Dementors on the train… is there any chance you might be willing to let her join us in the anti-Dementor lessons?"

Lupin smiled and said, "Quite a selfless request. Just like your mother in that regard. Miss Delacour is welcome to join us when we begin after the holidays. I'll inform you of a time once we resume classes. I trust you can inform Miss Delacour of this?"

Harry's smile widened as he replied, "Yes, Professor. I'll be sure to let her know."

With that, Harry darted out of the classroom, bound for Hagrid's Hut and his Care of Magical Creatures class — which he was nearly late for — leaving Lupin alone, his mind swirling with memories of his years and interactions with James and Lily Potter.

January 6th, 1994

At quarter to eight o'clock, Harry departed the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Fleur outside of the Great Hall before their anti-Dementor lesson with Professor Lupin. The corridor was empty when he arrived, so he decided to lose himself in his thoughts while he waited for Fleur.

After what must have been five minutes, he heard a soft voice say, "Thank you for waiting for me, Harry."

Harry looked up to see Fleur standing next to him. He smiled and responded, "No problem, Fleur. Shall we head to Professor Binns' classroom now?"

Fleur nodded, "Yes, let's. We shouldn't keep Professor Lupin waiting."

The two then made the short trek to the History of Magic classroom where Professor Lupin was waiting for them, a large packing case on top of Professor Binns' desk.

"Welcome, Harry, Miss Delacour."

"Thank you, Professor," the two responded in unison. Fleur then added, "And thank you for letting me join in. I imagine that this was originally meant to be private instruction between you and Harry."

Lupin waved her off, "Don't worry about it, Miss Delacour. Harry requested your presence and had a good reason for it. I'm more than happy to help one of Harry's friends."

"Now then," he transitioned. "In this packing case is another boggart. I've been combing the castle since Tuesday attempting to find one, and very luckily, I managed to find this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we will be getting to an actual Dementor."

"You see, Miss Delacour, Harry suspects that his boggart is a Dementor. I plan to have Harry stand in front of the boggart so that it turns into a Dementor for the two of you to practice on. When we're not using it, I will store it in my office."

"Now then," Lupin continued drawing his wand and gesturing for Harry and Fleur to follow suit, "the spell I am going to teach you is called the Patronus Charm. It is a highly advanced spell, well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level — even beyond where you currently are in Charms class, Miss Delacour."

The lesson continued from there with Lupin demonstrating how to cast the spell and having Harry and Fleur practice it before he opened the case and let the boggart take form as a Dementor.

The pair practiced in front of the mock Dementor for what felt like hours, with both Harry and Fleur faring poorly at first, each passing out a couple of times before they slowly got better. By the end of the lesson, Harry could cast a silvery mist that appeared like a shadow and Fleur could cast a slightly less solidified version of that same mist.

It was after Harry and Fleur produced their best attempts, respectively, that Lupin ended the lesson for them, telling them "You've had enough for one night. The Patronus Charm is very taxing and it will do you no good to be exhausted while attempting to cast it."

Once Lupin had shut the boggart away in the packing case, he reached into his robes and removed two large bars of Honeyduke's best chocolate, handing one to each of them and instructing them to consume it all, lest Madam Pomfrey harangue him for making the two feel like zombies for the next few days.

"Now then, I believe this was a successful opening foray into the Patronus Charm. Does the same time next week work for you two?" Lupin asked.

After both Harry and Fleur had confirmed that it worked for them, Lupin replied, "Excellent! I will see you two then."

With that he extinguished the lamps that he had lit for their training session and walked back to his classroom, leaving Harry and Fleur alone for their walk back to the Great Hall and, eventually, their respective dormitories.

"Thank you again, Harry, for letting me join in on these lessons," Fleur said as the two neared the Great Hall.

Harry smiled and responded, "It's not a big deal, Fleur. I know you would have done the same for me."

When the time came for the two to part ways, Fleur gave Harry a small hug before starting up the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower, leaving Harry feeling much the same way as he had nearly a year ago when she had given him a small peck on the cheek in the Hospital Wing.

---

October 31st, 1994

As Dumbledore waved his wand, the lights of the Great Hall went dark. The only light emanating throughout the room came from the candles sitting within carved pumpkins and the Goblet of Fire — now the brightest item in the room. Its sparkling bright, blue-white flames were almost painful on the eyes.

Everybody sat in silence waiting… and waiting… until, suddenly, the flames inside the goblet turned red and sparks began to fly from it. The next thing Harry knew, a tongue of flame burst into the air, sending a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it, eliciting gasps from the entire Hall.

Dumbledore snatched the parchment out of the air and held it at arm's length so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had returned to their blinding blue-white color.

"The champion for Durmstrang…" Dumbledore began in a strong, clear, dramatic voice, "will be Viktor Krum!"

"No surprise there!" Ron bellowed as the Hall erupted in applause and cheering for the international Quidditch star. Harry noticed Krum rise from the Slytherin table, where the Durmstrang students had taken up temporary residence, and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked alongside the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber, as Dumbledore had instructed earlier.

"Bravo, Viktor!" the booming voice of Karkaroff rang out, so loudly that everyone in the room could hear him — even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

As Krum exited from the Hall, the applause and side-talk died down. Everyone returned their focus to the goblet which almost immediately turned red again. A second piece of parchment shot out, once again propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons…" Dumbledore announced in the same tone of voice, "will be Amélie Durand!"

A tall, dark brown-haired girl rose from the Ravenclaw table to a polite smattering of applause from the members of the Hall. However, not all of her classmates were pleased to see her chosen as the champion. As Harry scanned the ranks of the Beauxbatons delegation, he noticed two of the girls who hadn't been selected dissolve into tears, lower their heads into their arms, and begin to sob.

As soon as Amélie Durand had vanished into the side chamber, a wave of silence fell over the crowd. This time, the silence was a stiff, tense silence, filled with enough excitement that you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion was next…

The Goblet of Fire seemed to take a longer time to turn red than it had between the reveals of Viktor Krum and Amélie Durand, though Harry supposed that might just be his emotions distorting his perception of time. Fleur had entered her name into the goblet that morning and Harry was hoping it would be her name spat out to represent Hogwarts.

"The Hogwarts champion…" Dumbledore called out in an even more dramatic voice than when he announced Viktor Krum and Amélie Durand's names, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"No!" Ron yelled loudly, disappointed that Angelina — the lone Gryffindor to enter her name — hadn't been chosen. Ron's disappointment, however, was heard by none due to Harry's cries of jubilation that Fleur had been chosen.

As Fleur rose from her seat at the Ravenclaw table and made her way to the side chamber, the cheers only seemed to grow louder for her. Hogwarts finally had its champion and if there was one thing that could unite the four houses, it was the desire for Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament — no matter what house the champion came from.

The applause for Fleur lasted for so long that it took Dumbledore several attempts before he could make himself heard again over it.

"Excellent!" he called out happily as the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you — including the remainder of the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang — to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering on your champion, you will contribute in a very real —"

Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence, and it was no question to anyone in the room why — the Goblet of Fire had just turned red again.

Sparks flew out of it. A long flame suddenly shot into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore reached a long hand out and snatched it out of the air, holding it out and staring at the name upon it. There was a long pause, during which all that happened was Dumbledore staring at the slip in his hands and everyone else staring back at him. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out the name on the parchment. "Harry Potter."

Harry sat there in shock, well aware that every head remaining in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was completely stunned. A sense of numbness spread across his body — surely he hadn't heard Dumbledore correctly.

In stark contrast to the aftermath of the previous names coming out of the goblet, there was no applause. On the contrary, a buzz filled the hall as students and staff alike began whispering to those around them. All the while, Harry was practically pleading to Ron and Hermione.

"I didn't put my name in! You know I didn't!"

No response came. The two were just staring blankly at him.

Up at the staff table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall before calling out again, "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry got to his feet, tripped on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly before setting off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an arduously long walk of shame to the top table — the buzzing growing louder and louder each second with more and more eyes training to follow him.

"Well…" Dumbledore began, his voice devoid of the cheerful tone it had possessed earlier, "through the door, Harry."

As Harry walked by the staff table, he was met with openmouthed stares from every single person sitting up there — including Hagrid, who was sat at the very end of the table. Even the paintings were staring at him, moving from frame to frame, spreading the news of his selection as the fourth Triwizard Champion.

Harry entered the side chamber to the sight of Viktor Krum, Amélie Durand, and Fleur all standing around the fireplace in the back of the room. They looked like a strangely impressive group, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantlepiece, slightly apart from the other two. Fleur was standing with her hands behind her back, gazing into the fire. Amélie Durand looked around when Harry walked in and cocked her head in an inquisitive pose.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

She clearly thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry, however, had no clue how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions. The international Quidditch star, one of his closest friends, and the indescribable Frenchwoman.

As Harry scrambled to think of a response to the Beauxbatons champion, he heard the sounds of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman burst into the room, taking Harry by the arm and leading him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, clamping down tighter on Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three in the room. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth Triwizard Tournament champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up, his surly face darkening as he surveyed Harry. Fleur looked genuinely frightened for Harry. Amélie Durand, on the other hand, just smiled at Bagman and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Amélie frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she replied haughtily to Bagman, "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

Well… it is amazing," Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. This age restriction is not in the official rules… and since Harry's name came out of the goblet… there's just no backing out at this point… Harry will just have to do the best he —"

Before he could finish, the door behind him flew open again, to reveal a large group of people making their way in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Professor Snape.

"Madame Maxime!" Amélie cried at once, striding over to the rather large headmistress "Zey are saying zat zis… little boy is to compete also!"

Harry felt a ripple of anger ripple through him. Little Boy?

Apparently, he wasn't the only one either, as he noticed Fleur begin to glare daggers at the Beauxbatons champion as soon as the words "little boy" left her mouth.

Harry didn't know how much longer this ordeal would last, although he sincerely hoped Dumbledore would put an end to his misery quickly. Unfortunately, he was in for a long wait as both Karkaroff and Maxime engaged in angry arguments with Dumbledore over Hogwarts gaining a second champion

---

November 23rd, 1994

"Thank you for meeting me, Fleur," Harry said as the two took a seat in an abandoned classroom just off the Great Hall.

"Your letter didn't say much. What's wrong?" Fleur asked, clearly concerned.

"This is going to sound crazy, but… I know what the first task is."

Before Fleur could say anything, Harry continued. "Krum and Durand already know as well. Both Karkaroff and Maxime were there when I found out."

"I think you're going to have it back up, Harry," Fleur said carefully. "Tell me what happened from the beginning."

"Okay, so, on the afternoon of the Hogsmeade visit, Hagrid told me to meet him at his cabin at midnight under my Invisibility Cloak. When I got there, he led me to the Beauxbatons carriage, where he met up with Madame Maxime. I followed the two to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, where a massive enclosure had been built. Within the enclosure were dragons — four of them. One for each of the champions."

The more Harry explained the wider Fleur's eyes got. By the time Harry finished, Fleur had begun to curse in French, "Merde! Fils de pute! Mince! Enculé! Fait chier!"

Harry was slightly startled at the outburst. Sure, he reacted similarly inside his head, but hearing it come from Fleur was a whole other thing. Fleur was the definition of calm and composed, never letting her emotions get the best of her around others. The fact that she swore in what Harry assumed was French added to the startled sense Harry felt — he had never heard Fleur speak French before. He had assumed that she could speak it, of course, her name and family French, after all. But assuming it and hearing it were two different things.

Harry attempted to lighten the mood by saying, "Well, at least you're comfortable with fire."

Naturally, that only seemed to make things worse. "Yes, I'm comfortable with fire, but that doesn't change the fact that you — a mere fourth year — have to go up against a beast that takes half a dozen highly-trained wizards to restrain!"

Harry held his hands out in a calming manner, "Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out. Merlin knows how many sticky situations I've gotten into at Hogwarts and managed to find a way out of."

"At least allow me to help you. It's the least I can do in exchange for what you just told me."

Harry waved her off, "Focus on your own preparations. You have the same amount of time as I do and we both know Hermione is probably already researching ways to deal with the dragon."

Fleur visibly bristled at that before acquiescing, "Fair enough. Thank you again, Harry, for telling me about this. You may very well have saved my life."

Harry brushed the last comment aside, "Don't worry about it, you would have done the same. As for saving your life, I'm sure you could have easily come up with something on the spot. You're quite good at that."

Fleur gave an unladylike snort, "I wouldn't go that far, Harry."

The conversation was awkwardly silent for a few minutes, neither party having anything else to say before Harry ran his hand through his hair and said, "I should probably get going. Unfortunately, being a Triwizard — or is it Tetrawizard now? — Champion doesn't make me exempt from Snape's Potions essays.

Fleur gave a small laugh, "Of that, I have no doubt. From what you've told me, Professor Snape has a personal vendetta against you."

The pair then exchanged goodbyes before heading off to their respective destinations — Harry to the library to meet with Hermione and Fleur to Ravenclaw Tower to try and devise a strategy for the first task.

---

December 10th, 1994

"I have something to say to you all," Professor McGonagall began at the end of class. "The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —"

At that, Lavender Brown let out one of her infamous, shrill giggles, causing Parvati Patil to nudge her hard in the ribs as she tried not to join in. Somehow this evolved into the pair staring directly at Harry.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, ignoring the girls, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then…"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to — er — let our hair down," she said disapprovingly.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall continued after another giggle from Lavender, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, sending the students into the usual scuffle of activity as they packed up their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

However, before Harry could leave, Professor McGonagall called out above the din, "Potter — a word, if you please."

Assuming this had something to do with his and Ron's horseplaying after they had finished their work, Harry proceeded gloomily to Professor McGonagall's desk. Once the rest of the class had left, she said, "Potter, the champions and their partners —"

"What partners?" Harry interrupted, confused.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to make a joke.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."

Harry's insides seemed to freeze over and shatter into a million pieces.

"Dance partners?" He asked, his face going red. "I don't dance," he quickly added.

"Oh yes, you do," the Professor replied irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."

"I am not dancing," Harry replied staunchly, visions of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in some sort of frilly dress — not unlike the ones Aunt Petunia would wear to fancy parties Uncle Vernon attended for work — appearing at the forefront of his mind.

"It is traditional," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

"But — I don't —"

"You heard me, Potter," Professor McGonagall enunciated in a very final sort of way. "Dismissed."

---

December 11th, 1994

During breakfast, Fleur had approached Harry and asked if they could talk privately after the meal was over. Naturally, Harry agreed without hesitation. Now, a short couple of hours later, the two were sitting in an unused classroom just off the Great Hall.

"You wanted to talk to me about something, Fleur?" Harry asked.

Fleur slowly exhaled before replying, "Yes, I did. I'm sure Professor McGonagall has already informed you of the… traditions surrounding the Yule Ball that we champions must partake in?"

Harry nodded in assent, recognizing Fleur's uncertain tone of voice, but still unsure of where she was going with this conversation.

"We have discussed the… difficulties of my Veela nature before on a number of occasions, which is why I wanted to talk with you."

Still clueless, Harry made no comment as Fleur continued, letting out another long exhale, "Harry, I don't want to attend the Yule Ball with someone who cannot contain themself around my allure. That would be an enjoyable evening for neither me nor my dance partner."

She took a small pause before continuing, "You, Harry, are the only person in this school that can resist my allure that I feel comfortable around."

Another pause. "Harry, what I'm trying to say is that I'd like you to accompany me to the Yule Ball."

"Fleur, I…" Harry began to respond, trailing off mid-sentence.

"I should probably clarify that this is purely platonic. I am asking you as a friend, nothing more."

For some reason Harry couldn't explain, he felt his mood take a slight downturn at that remark, but he shook it off and responded, "Of course I will accompany you, Fleur. You've been an amazing friend to me, it's the least I can do."

Fleur's hunched-up shoulders relaxed at Harry's affirmation that he would attend the Ball with her, "Thank you so much, Harry. It means a great deal to me."

The two then made arrangements for where they would meet up the night of the Ball before parting ways with an agreement to meet up later that week if needed.

---

December 25th, 1994

Harry emerged from the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory the night of the Ball with a nervous expression on his face. He and Fleur had arranged to meet up outside the Ravenclaw Common Room before walking over to the antechamber of the Great Hall where the champions and their dates would be congregating before the ball began. He had never done anything remotely close to this before, which only furthered his nerves that stemmed from letting Fleur down.

When he arrived at the bronze eagle statue that guarded the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common room, Fleur was nowhere to be found. Not fancying the idea of attempting one of the eagle's riddles, he sat down on a nearby bench and waited for her to exit.

It wasn't long before he heard the door to the common room open. He looked up to see Fleur exiting, dressed in stunning silvery-grey robes, her long hair tied back behind her head in a sort of bun. Harry may have been immune to her allure, but that didn't stop his jaw from dropping slightly when he saw her.

He managed to quickly collect himself before saying, "You look wonderful, Fleur!"

Fleur smiled, "Thank you, Harry. You look quite handsome as well."

The two awkwardly stood there for a few moments, before Harry reached into a pocket in his robes, remembering Hermione's rapid-fire instructions to him about what to do and how to act that night that she had given before going to get ready herself. When his hand emerged from his robes, it was holding a corsage, which he proceeded to slip onto Fleur's left wrist. Then, as he had been drilled by both Hermione and Professor McGonagall, he offered Fleur his arm and escorted her down to the Great Hall.

When the pair arrived outside the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons Champion Amélie Durand was already present. She had elected to attend the ball with Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain Roger Davies. What had prompted that decision, Harry did not know. Davies may be a decent Quidditch player, but according to the Hogwarts rumor mill he wasn't exactly the most stand-up wizard at the school.

The four stood in mostly silence, only briefly talking with their own dates, before Krum showed up with his date — who was none other than Hermione. She looked entirely different from her usual appearance, though. She had done something to her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing a periwinkle-blue dress that seemed to float around her, which, when coupled with the lack of a stack of books in her hands, made it appear that she was holding herself differently — which she likely was, Harry imagined.

Harry, Fleur, and Hermione talked for a short while before Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, "Messers Potter, Davies, and Krum, and Misses Delacour, Durand, and Granger, please line up next to your partner for the night and follow me into the Hall."

The duos were quick to comply with the Professor's orders, forming a tight block as they entered the Great Hall to the applause of everyone within. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands made from mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones and one larger table at the front of the hall where the judges were seated, and where Professor McGonagall was directing the champions and their dates.

As soon as the champions were seated, menus appeared at the seats of every student in the room. Recognizing that the dancing would happen after they ate, Harry picked up his menu to figure out what to order. Once Dumbledore indirectly showed the room how to order, Harry ordered goulash for himself, while Fleur ordered Bouillabaisse — a French fish soup that her family often ate at home.

It took about an hour for the Hall to finish dinner, at which point Professor Dumbledore instructed everyone to stand up, before he waved his wand and sent the tables and chairs flying to the side of the room, leaving the main floor of the Great Hall open as a dance floor. With another flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall, with a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

As soon as the stage had been conjured, the Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. As the band walked onto the stage, Harry, Fleur, and the rest of the champions and their dates stood up and walked onto the newly-created dance floor.

As the Weird Sisters struck up a slow waltz to open the night, Harry offered his hand to Fleur, which she took as Harry began the motions of a Waltz as Fleur had taught him in abandoned classrooms over the past two weeks. Fleur would not take "no" for an answer when she found out Harry couldn't dance and demanded to teach him.

As the two gracefully waltzed through the other couples on the dance floor, Harry thought to himself, 'This is actually quite fun. I definitely would not be opposed to doing this again. I'm glad Fleur asked me. I would hate to be like Ron, stuck with a date I have no interest in.'

That last thought caused Harry to temporarily lose his concentration, causing him to miss a step in the dance. Although he quickly recovered, Fleur gave him an odd look — he hadn't misstepped in a couple of days. Once he regained his concentration, he returned to his earlier train of thought — was he interested in Fleur? As a friend, there was no question. But a nagging feeling persisted in the back of his mind that he was potentially interested in her as more of a friend.

Harry brushed away that feeling for as long as he could, but, by the end of the night, he could brush it away no longer — he liked Fleur Delacour as more than just a friend.

---

June 24th, 1995

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" The amplified voice of Ludo Bagman boomed out over the packed Quidditch stadium. "WELCOME TO THE THIRD TASK OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!"

"Allow me to remind you of our current standings as we enter this final task. Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Miss Fleur Delacour and Mister Harry Potter, both representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points — Mister Viktor Krum, representing Durmstrang Institute of Magical Learning!" More applause. "And in third place — Miss Amélie Durand, representing Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!"

"The task is simple. The Triwizard Cup is hidden somewhere within the maze you see in front of you. Whichever champion reaches the cup first will win the tournament. The champions will enter staggered based upon the cumulative scores they have received from the first two tasks. Mr. Potter and Miss Delacour will enter first, followed by Mr. Krum, and then Miss Durand."

"That being said… on my whistle, Harry and Fleur," Bagman concluded before counting down from three and blowing his whistle, sending the two into the maze. Before the task had begun, the two had agreed to split up in order to cover more ground and therefore give Hogwarts a better chance at victory. So, at the first fork, after wishing the other luck one final time, Harry went left and Fleur went right.

As Harry continued through the maze, he entered a trance-like state, only paying attention to the maze around him. He only had to fight through a boggart before he encountered his first real obstacle — an enchanted mist that showed no signs of what it did. As he was deliberating whether to pass through it or turn around and attempt another path, he heard a high-pitched scream emanate from somewhere ahead of him.

His blood ran cold. Logically, he knew that it was either Fleur or Amélie, but his mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario — that it was Fleur and she was dying. The scream suddenly cut off, prompting Harry to charge headlong into the mist with no regard for his personal safety.

As soon as he entered the mist, the world turned upside down. Harry was hanging from the ground, with his hair on end, his glasses dangling off his nose, threatening to fall into the bottomless sky. He clutched them to the end of his nose and hung there, terrified. It felt as though his feet were glued to the grass, which had now become the ceiling. Below him, the dark, star-spangled heavens stretched endlessly. He felt as though if he tried to move one of his feet, he would fall away from the earth completely.

'Think,' he told himself, as all the blood in his body rushed to his head, 'think…'

Unfortunately, none of the spells he had practiced had been designed to combat a sudden reversal of ground and sky. Did he attempt to move his foot? He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He had two choices — try and move, or send up red sparks, and get rescued and disqualified from the task.

'Failure isn't an option,' he thought to himself as he shut his eyes and pulled his right foot as hard as he could away from the grassy ceiling.

Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell forward onto his knees onto the wonderfully solid ground. He felt temporarily limp with shock. He took a deep, steadying breath, then got up again and hurried forward, looking back over his shoulder as he ran away from the golden mist, which twinkled innocently at him in the moonlight.

He kept running until he reached a junction of two paths, alternating calling out Fleur and Amélie's names. As he paused at the junction to catch a breath, his thoughts ran wild, 'What happened? Are Fleur or Amélie alright? There weren't any red sparks — does that mean that they got out of whatever trouble they got themself into? Or did it mean that they were unable to access their wand?' Whatever the case, as Harry ran down the right work, a sense of unease ran down his spine. 'One champion down…'

He could feel that the cup was nearby and knew that one of his competitors was out of the running, narrowing his odds to one in three. He just hoped they weren't horribly hurt — especially if it was Fleur.

'I've gotten this far, haven't I?' Harry mused to himself as he ran down path after path, hunting for the cup. 'What if I actually manage to win this?' For the first time since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire almost eight months ago, he could picture himself winning the entire tournament and proudly displaying the Triwizard Trophy to the entire school.

He faced no obstacles for a solid ten minutes, which would have been wonderful luck had he not kept running into dead ends — including the same one twice. It took him a considerable amount of time, but he finally found a new route and began to jog down it, rounding a corner only to encounter one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts, which was much larger than he remembered it being the last time he had seen one.

Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long stinger was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Harry's wand, which he pointed at it.

"Stupefy!" Harry naïvely called out, the spell ricocheting off the skrewt's armour back at Harry, which he quickly ducked. The skrewt retaliated by issuing a blast of fire from its posterior and flying forwards — directly at him

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled. The spell ricocheted off the skrewt's armor again, causing Harry to stagger back a few paces and fall over. "IMPEDIMENTA!" Harry roared again. The skrewt was inches from him when it froze — he had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less underside. Panting, Harry pushed himself away from it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction — the Impediment Curse was not permanent; the skrewt would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment.

As Harry continued his hunt for the Cup, he traveled path after path and dead end after dead end, but, somehow, he reached a darker portion of the maze — which he took to mean that he was getting closer to the cup. As he rounded a corner onto a long straightaway, he came face-to-face with something he had only seen in his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters — a Sphinx.

As Harry got closer and could make out more details, he ascertained that its human head was that of a woman. When he reached her, she did not attempt to spring at him, but rather continued pacing off the length of the corridor, blocking Harry from passing.

She turned to Harry and spoke, "You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"In that case… will you move, please?" Harry asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"No," she said, continuing to pace. "Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

Harry's stomach did a few cartwheels. It was always Hermione who was good at these sorts of things, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try to find an alternative route to the center.

"Okay," he said, coming to a decision. "May I hear the riddle?"

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

"First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,

The middle of middle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together, and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"

It took Harry much longer than he would have liked to answer the riddle — including asking for the sphinx to repeat her riddle — but he managed to solve it, confidently answering, "A spider!"

As soon as he answered the riddle, the sphinx's widening smile fully broadened and she stepped aside to let him pass into the next section of the maze.

"Thanks!" he cried out as he ran past, amazed that he had successfully managed to solve the riddle without any help.

He knew he was close. His constant usage of the Point Me spell told him that the cup had to be directly in front of him. So long as he didn't encounter any major obstacles, he figured he stood a strong chance at reaching the cup first.

As he dashed up the right-hand path in a fork, he saw a light up ahead — the Triwizard Cup. It sat gleaming on a pedestal roughly a hundred yards away. He broke into a dead sprint at it, making it roughly half the distance before he saw a dark figure hurtling itself down a path off to his left, chased by a massive spider.

Seeing that this path the figure and spider were running down intersected with his own, Harry started casting spells rapid-fire at it, "Stupefy! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!"

He heard the figure casting its own spells, the voice deeper than his own and distinctively masculine, indicating to Harry that it was Krum. Unfortunately for both Harry and Krum, neither's barrage of spells did any good. The spider was either so massive or magical that all the spells did was aggravate it more.

As Harry continued to run down the path, he saw Krum throw himself into a backwards slide underneath the spider and roar, "IMPEDIMENTA," causing the spider to kneel over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and leaving the path strewn with hairy legs.

Harry, who had stopped to watch Krum take out the spider, shook himself back to reality and resumed his sprint towards the cup — now only about twenty yards away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Krum pick himself up and dash towards the cup as well. Krum may have been further from it than Harry but his longer legs allowed him to cover ground faster, turning what looked to be an easy victory for Harry into a tight race.

As Harry reached his hand out and clamped it around the handle of the cup, he could feel Krum do the exact same on the other side. Instantly, he felt a jerk behind his navel, ripping his feet off the ground and clamping his hand to the Triwizard Cup, which was pulling him and Krum into a howling whirlwind of color.

---

Still June 24th, 1995

As soon as Harry and Krum hit the ground, Harry's legs gave way, sending him falling forwards onto the cold ground and releasing his hand from the Triwizard Cup. He raised his head to an unfamiliar sight.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Krum just shook his head, not knowing where they were either, and pulled Harry up so he could also have a look around wherever they were.

It was clear they had traveled many miles from Hogwarts; perhaps even hundreds of miles, for even the mountains surrounding Hogwarts were not in sight in any direction the two looked. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard. The black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right and a hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Without a word to Harry, Krum drew his wand and began to slowly move around the general vicinity of where the two had landed, stopping only when the two heard footsteps approaching, prompting Harry to draw his wand as well.

As the figure approached, Harry found himself unable to make out any facial features due to a dark hood covering his face. When he shifted his gaze to what he looked like a grotesque baby — or perhaps a bundle of robes? — his scar exploded into a world of pain. As he collapsed to the ground, Harry felt as though his head was about to split in two.

From far away, some distance above his head, he heard a high-pitched, yet cold voice command, "Kill the spare."

A flash of green light sizzled through Harry's eyelids as he heard a second voice screech out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry didn't even need to open his eyes to know what had happened — Viktor Krum had just been murdered.

---

October 5th, 1995

"Where are we going, Hermione?" Harry asked, exasperated. He had been roped into attending a supposedly small meeting of students interested in being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"The Three Broomsticks is too packed and noisy for our purposes. I've arranged for the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one. It's not on the main road. Personally, I think it's a bit… you know… dodgy… but students don't normally go in there, so I doubt we'll be overheard."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the main street past Zonko's Joke Shop where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan and past the post office before they turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door with a picture upon it of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione slightly nervously. Seeing that neither Ron nor Hermione was willing to enter first, Harry summoned his inner courage and opened the door, walking in.

It was nothing like The Three Broomsticks. The Three Broomsticks had an ambiance of warmth, whereas The Hog's Head gave off a drastically darker one. It consisted of a single small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, causing the pub to be lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables.

As the trio crossed the bar, Harry turned to Hermione and muttered to her, "I don't know about this, Hermione." He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you that Umbridge might be under that?"

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she replied quietly after looking over the figure. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out-of-bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Well, it's not exactly like you're planning a homework group, are you?"

Before Hermione could respond, the bartender grunted at the trio, asking them what they wanted, to which Hermione responded by requesting three butterbeers.

As the trio sat down to one of Ron and Hermione's typical bickering arguments, Harry jumped into the conversation during a lull, asking, "So who exactly did you ask to join us?"

Hermione replied evasively, "Just a couple of people," checking her watch and then looking towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is. Oh look, this might be them now —"

The door in the pub opened to reveal a gaggle of students flooding the room. First came Fleur, followed by Neville, Dean, and Lavender. They were closely followed by the Patil Twins, Cho Chang and one of her giggling friends, and Luna Lovegood. After Luna came the Grffindor Chasers — Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. Then Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. Ginny was followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?!" Harry whispered frustratedly to Hermione. "A couple of people?!"

Hermione just smiled, "Well, the idea seemed quite popular."

As Fred ordered twenty-six butterbeers for the group and took their seats, Harry moved in front of the group and gathered all the confidence he could muster before beginning to speak, "Welcome, everyone. I'm sure you know why you are here. Umbridge is a rubbish Defense teacher and many of us are going into our OWLs or NEWTs. We need a real Defense Against the Dark Arts class, not the farce Umbridge is teaching."

"Hear hear!" Anthony Goldstein called out, bolstering Harry's confidence.

"And by this, I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly. Sure, the theory is important, but it is even more important to know how to cast these spells. I'm sure you're asking why I feel so strongly about this. The reason is because Lord Voldemort is back."

The gathered crowd's reaction was sudden, yet predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself, Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"What's the proof that You-Know-Who's back?" the blond Hufflepuff called out aggressively.

"Well… Dumbledore believes it —" Hermione began to respond, before being interrupted.

"You mean Dumbledore believes him," he said, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" Ron asked rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," the boy responded haughtily, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say that You-Know-Who is back."

"Look," Hermione quickly intervened, "That's not what really this meeting was supposed to be about —"

Before she could finish, Harry quietly cut her off, "It's okay, Hermione. I've got this."

He turned to the crowd, looking directly at Zacharias Smith, "What makes me say Voldemort is back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening in. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, despite it becoming steadily dirtier.

Zacharias replied dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Viktor Krum got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought his body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Krum got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face. "I don't want to talk about Viktor Krum, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

He glared angrily at Hermione — it was her fault that he was being displayed like a freak to a group of their classmates. Despite Harry's order to clear out if they wanted to talk about Krum, nobody left their seats — not even Zacharias Smith.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched. "So . . . like Harry was saying . . . if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to —"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly reluctantly.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You can make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry and a couple of people laughed.

This short exchange caused multiple people to stand up to ask or tell stories about Harry's exploits. Terry Boot asked about the basilisk Harry killed during second year, Neville talked about how Harry rescued the Philosopher's Stone during first year, and Cho Chang reminded the group about Harry's exploits during the Triwizard Tournament the previous year.

Once everyone else was done, Fleur stood up and addressed the crowd, "As some of you may know, my family fled France during the war with Grindelwald. We feared for our lives — just as many of you are starting to do now. We did not leave our homelands just to be driven off by another Dark Lord. The only way we are going to stop Voldemort and his Death Eaters is with a well-practiced arsenal of spells. We clearly won't be learning that from Umbridge, so what do we have to lose by learning from Harry? I, for one, intend to attend these lessons. Who is with me?"

A loud chorus of assent rose from the crowd as a blushing Harry caught Fleur's eyes and nodded in profound appreciation for her rousing speech and defense of him.

He raised his voice one final time to address the assembled students, "Thank you all for coming. If you all would sign the parchment that Hermione has, we will contact you as soon as we know when and where our first meeting will take place."

With that, Harry stepped out of the figurative spotlight and stood back to watch as everyone lined up behind Fleur to join the new Defence club.

---

December 18th, 1995

"Alright," Harry called out to the packed Room of Requirement. "I thought that this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break —"

"We're not doing anything new?" Zacharias Smith questioned, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come. . . ."

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," Fred retorted loudly, resulting in snickers breaking out throughout the group.

Harry simply ignored Zacharias, "We can practice in pairs. We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

Dumbledore's Army immediately divided up, leaving Harry to partner with Neville. The room was soon full of scattered cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze for about a minute, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. The Room was too small to allow the entire DA to simultaneously work on the spell, so they divided into two groups. The first group worked on the spell for a few minutes as the second group watched, before they swapped roles.

After about an hour, Harry called a halt. "You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff — maybe even the Patronus Charm."

That comment sparked excited murmurs from the students as they cleared out from the Room in groups of two or three. All the students, that was, except for Fleur.

"What's up, Fleur?" Harry attempted — and failed — to ask nonchalantly.

"I wanted to talk with you, Harry," she replied. "You've been more distant than usual this year. All of us can tell."

Harry sighed, "Is it that obvious? I feel like I'm the one responsible for Viktor's death."

He sat down in a chair that the room had summoned for him and put his head in his hands. "As soon as we arrived in that graveyard, Viktor drew his wand and was on the lookout for danger. I didn't draw mine until Wormtail had almost reached us. I keep thinking to myself that if I had drawn my wand sooner and been more alert, we could have stopped Wormtail, and Viktor wouldn't have been killed."

Fleur's face softened in understanding and she crouched down next to Harry, rubbing her hand along his back in a calming manner, "Harry, Viktor's death was not your fault. Even if you had had your wand drawn before Wormtail reached you, it was two students facing off against an experienced Death Eater. Odds are he would have overpowered you both with Merlin knows what spells he has picked up in Voldemort's service."

"I know… it's just…" Harry sighed, "I feel like I'm deceiving the DA. I'm teaching them to do something that I couldn't do. I'm teaching them to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters when I couldn't do anything against them six months ago."

"Harry, from what you've told me, you held off Voldemort long enough to escape alive with Viktor's body. That's nothing to sell yourself short about. Most people can't last a minute against Voldemort, much less escape with their life.

"I have full confidence in your abilities as a Professor, Harry," she continued. "You've done an amazing job so far — and it has only been two months."

Harry looked up at Fleur, "You really think so?"

"Yes, Harry. It's clear to everyone in the room that you've done a much better job than Umbridge has. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry stood up and gave Fleur a rare hug, "Thank you, Fleur. For everything. You've been the greatest friend I could have ever asked for."

As Fleur returned the hug, she blushed, "Harry… there's a mistletoe above us…"

Harry blushed even harder than Fleur did, "Fleur… I…"

A small smile appeared on Fleur's face as she slowly closed the gap between the two and lightly kissed Harry. It was as though his entire world had shifted. All he could feel was the heat emanating from her body, the sound of her breath, and the taste of her lips upon his.

He felt the burden that Voldemort's return had placed on him lift. For the first time he could remember, he felt free of all responsibilities. He no longer felt alone. The only thing that mattered to him was Fleur.

---

Author's Note: Gods, this took way too long to get out. I was originally going to put this out yesterday, but the ending was… not great. I'm super glad I finished it, though. I've had a great time writing this — my longest single chapter to date, clocking in at about 14,600 words.

Now that this is done, it's back to my two long fics. If you don't know them, allow me to tell you a bit about them.

Drowning in Darkness is my first multi-chapter Harry Potter work, which will end up featuring a Dark Katie Bell, a Dark Harry Potter, and a Harry/Katie pairing.

A Job Done Too Well is my latest multi-chapter Percy Jackson work, which will end up featuring a Dark Percy Jackson, a Dark Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, and a Percy/Reyna pairing.

I don't know when I'll have chapters for them done, but my goal is to have at least one chapter of each written in one month's time. Ambitious? Based upon my usual pacing, yes, but I'm up for the challenge.

If you're on my server, see you around! If you're not, see you when I update next!

- Asmodeus