A/N: Hello! I'd like to thank you all for giving this story a read.
This is essentially a retelling of the Harry Potter saga, starting from book 4. I just simply fancied getting my own personal view of how things could have played out, if a something had been different.
Before we begin, there are some things that need to be noted: The pairing of this story is Harry and Fleur, there'll be no changes and that's how it's going to be until the very end. Fleur is not in her last year at the start of the story, instead, she's in her sixth year. I'll try to stick to the original concepts as much as I can, but there will obviously be differences as the story goes, especially at the end.
With that out of the way, I hope you like this new story! Good reading!
2 MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
He usually never duelled in the past. He had learned long ago that there was no point in fighting ghosts, it was better to simply move on and focus on the now, rather than trying to find solutions to problems that have long expired.
Tonight, was different however, and he reckoned that he deserved a moment to think about it all, reminisce his whole life up to this point, to recall every turn, every decision throughout his span that brought him here, right into this wood, at the start of autumn.
He leaned back on the tree he was currently resting on, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply the refreshing air that hit his face. This was perhaps his favourite season, a season of change and growth, death and life. Maturity.
He chuckled, muttering to himself, "Imagine if the Sorting Hat hadn't listened to me and went through with its decision of putting me in Slytherin?…" He snorted, taking a bite of his dried meat, replenishing some energy before the task, his final task, "Would I end up being like Draco?… No… I reckon the great Merlin perhaps?… Maybe somewhere in between…"
Harry Potter knew well that Slytherin had a very, very bad reputation as a house that seemed to bread only dark wizards. However, as someone who learned to look past the first glance, he also knew that just like there were bad apples in the green house, there were some remarkable wizards and witches who had nothing dark about them in the slightest, one of those examples being the legendary wizard Merlin himself.
"Tom's probably the responsible for giving Slytherin such a sorrow image…" Harry had long stopped caring calling his nemesis 'Voldemort', with all the shit they've been through together, he decided they were close enough to be on first name basis. The fact that his defiance caused the Dark Lord to anger, was a nice bonus, "It's not every day you shit out the evilest piece of shit the world has ever seen, after all."
The raven-haired man took another bite of his food, his green eyes roaming around the forest, finding peace and tranquillity as he watched the leaves hit the ground. Strangely, no sound other than the wind rustling the leaves existed, no bird or any other kind of animal could be heard at all.
He knew why of course, but he still found it strange.
Looking down at his hands, he stared at the last piece of the dried meat he had before he devoured it completely, his eyes now turning to his left hand, bringing the small rock he was holding close to his chest, examining it with a nostalgic glance.
"Incredible how such a small piece of matter can have such tremendous power…" He whispered, taking in a deep breath before he added, "To resurrect the dead… how selfish…"
The young wizard scratched his stubble, not having bothered shaving at all for the last couple of days, too busy dealing with this stupid war to even care about how he looked or his own hygiene. He did try to smell nice though, at the very least.
As he continued to stare at the legendary stone in his possession, known as the Resurrection Stone, Harry continued his reminiscing, wondering where it all truly began.
"Sure, first year was a booming start to my wizarding career…" Harry said, snorting as he added with some amusement, "Protecting the Philosopher's Stone from the grasp of a possessed teacher at the tender age of eleven was certainly not something anyone experienced as a first-year course… But I don't really think I even realised what the bloody hell was I doing back then… just went with the flow really…"
He played with the stone a little bit, rolling it around his fingers as he continued his musing, "What about second year?…" He tilted his head, delving into his memories, "Saved Ginny from death, killed Salazar Slytherin's huge ass basilisk with the help of Fawkes and Godric Gryffindor's sword…" He chuckled, "Even managed to inadvertently destroy my very first horcrux… almost as important as losing my virginity, I'd say."
He didn't really feel that was it though. He was still just a child who was simply way over his head, practically using his own desperation to save Ginny as the driving force of his heroics.
"Third year?…" He uttered, tilting his head to the other side, this time, a small smile gracing his lips, "Once again thrust into adventure by Sirius' escape from Azkaban, finding out that Lupin was a werewolf, getting the Marauder's map, revealing that rat Wormtail and his betrayal…" He leaned back again, resting his head on the trunk before he continued with a slight chuckle, "Oh and learning the Patronus charm… and using it against a centenar of Dementors."
Even though he was more mature that time around, he was still thrust into adventure by circumstances beyond his own. He didn't wanted any of that, and was simply a forced passenger who had no choice but to go along with the ride, otherwise he would end up plastered all over the road.
"Now, fourth year though…" That's when it clicked.
It was perhaps then that his true adventure really started, as it was the first time he had actually sought out the action himself. Nobody pushed him into it, nobody tricked him into it, he simply wished to be known for something else rather than just as the Boy-Who-Lived.
He made the choice then.
"That's when it all really started to kick in…" He whispered to himself, his eyes tired, the cold breeze serving to relax him a little bit as he continued, "When I became stronger, really strong… When I had the initiative to head on… When he came back… When I realise the true depth of this shit-show…" He couldn't stop a small smile to grace his lips as he finished his thought, "When I met her."
Blue eyes suddenly flashed through his mind, almost feeling the soft strands of blond hair in between his fingers, a pitiful attempt to brush something that wasn't there.
"Perhaps I should just run away with Fleur…" He said, heart heavy, "I've heard Norway is lovely this time of year…" He fought back something from his eyes, adding a painful whisper, "We could settle in a small village there, raise some brats, rot away as a painfully happy bland family… just like she wanted… I wouldn't mind that at all…"
The sound of thunder above along with his cynical chuckle brought him to the realisation that he was being foolish.
Who was he kidding?
Too many people had already given up their lives for him, to give him a chance to be right here, at this moment, to finish it once and for all.
"The one who greeted death like an old friend, huh?"
As the firs droplet of water fell on his face, Harry inhaled as deeply as he could before he stood up, dusting himself after. He looked around for a moment, knowing well that this was the last time he will ever be able to feel this kind of peace.
Still, as he began going forward, he couldn't stop his mind from remembering every moment of his life up to this point. Memories, after all, were all we really had at the end of the day.
5 years ago…
Harry Potter felt somewhere else as he stared into the nothing, his eyes glazed, so many thoughts flooding his mind that he honestly didn't even know what he was thinking about.
"Harry!" A harsh feminine whisper brought the boy's mind back to earth, shaking his head in order to clear his mind.
"Mate, what's up with you? You alright?" A masculine voice made the raven-haired wizard massage his temples, finding his voice to speak.
"Yeah, yeah…" Harry answered his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, both sitting beside him, "Just… thinking…" He whispered, his eyes going up as he stared at the mesmerising ceiling of Hogwarts' main hall. Even though this was his fourth year in school, the astonishing magic displayed above has never ceased to amaze him.
Hermione bit her lip, looking at Ron who also looked unsure, whispering so that only she and Harry could hear, "You mean about…" Hermione looked around conspiratorially, finishing after she was sure no one was listening in on them, "The… umm… mark?"
Harry could only nod with a sigh.
It had been a week or so since the incident during the Quidditch World Cup, where after Ireland was proclaimed champions of the world, a group of masked men began to cause a riot all over the place. Harry would call it a terrorist attack really.
The attack itself wasn't really what was in Harry's mind though, it was the occurrence after, just when it all went silent and he found himself on the ground, struggling to recover his glasses.
His mark appeared on the sky.
He didn't know at the moment that it was his mark of course, never felt himself wanting to learn about the man that killed his parents and stole any semblance of a regular youth from him. It was his bushy haired friend that pointed that little fact out.
He couldn't help but wonder what the heck was going on.
"I-I'm sure it was just… umm…" Hermione began speaking, trying hard to come up with something that may ease her friend's nerves, "Some n-nostalgic fool?" She offered lamely.
Before either Harry or Ron could say anything else, the voice of Hogwarts' Headmaster resounded throughout the hall, silencing every student as they turned to face the far side of the room, where the teachers and staff sat.
"Welcome, welcome students to another year in our school, now…" The legendary Albus Dumbledore said before he gestured the gathered first-years, the children all looking nervous as the elderly man continued, "Before we begin the feast, let us start the sorting!"
The Golden Trio tuned out as the sorting went on, only applauding as a new student was thrown into their house. Deciding on continuing their previous discussion.
"Look Harry…" Hermione brought his attention back to her, the girl placing a comforting hand on his arm as she continued speaking, "I don't see the point in worrying about something that has nothing to do with you."
Harry looked at her incredulously, stating, "Nothing to do with me?…" He looked around before he continued, "Hermione, we're talking about the mark of the guy who killed my parents because he wanted to kill ME…" He looked at Ron, who also seemed troubled, adding, "I can help but worry at the thought of Voldemort wanting to finish the job."
Hermione had nothing to say to that, her lips twisting into a worried frown as she and her friends distantly clapped when a new student was sorted into Gryffindor.
"Did you ever… umm…" Ron began saying, not knowing how to continue with his questioning. He didn't want to anger Harry, something that his raven-haired best friend seemed to be doing all too often these days, "Did you ever knew why he… you know… wanted you dead?" He finally asked once the boy in question turned to him.
Harry sighed heavily, his eyes darting to the young girl who was being sorted into Hufflepuff. Ron's question was a good one, infuriating as well, but a good question never the less.
"I don't know, Ron." That was all he replied. He honestly couldn't think of another question he wanted an answer for more than this one. It was perhaps the one inquiry that defined his whole life, and while he felt frustrated at not knowing the answer, he also didn't know if he really wanted to know.
He scoffed at his own pettiness.
"Well…" Dumbledore's voice once again earned their attention, listening as the Headmaster continued, "Please, let us welcome our new students and wish them a good term…" A thunderous applause resounded throughout the hall, students and staff alike giving their welcome to the new kids, "With that done, let us begin the feast!"
"Are you still going to take every class possible this year, Hermione?" Ron asked as he stuffed his mouth with food, uncaring of how discourteous he looked by doing so. Honestly, he just wanted to shift the focus of their conversation to something less gloomy.
"Of course not, Ronald…" The brunette replied, procuring her food with a more delicate touch, "Using the Time-Turner left me quite drained last year, I don't think I'm going to make it two years in a row."
"That's surprising." Harry commented. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that his friend wanted to take LESS classes.
Hermione shrugged, stating, "I'm thinking on just adding Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures this year…" She took a bite out of her dinner, adding once she swallowed, "Might try Arithmancy out if my schedule doesn't turn out too heavy."
"Blimey…" Ron sputtered, swallowing his food before he asked the bespectacled male, "What about you, Harry? We're still taking the same courses as last year?"
Harry sighed, cleaning his mouth before he replied, "I don't know…" He focused on his redheaded best friend, adding, "I was thinking on dropping Divination, perhaps switching it for Ancient Runes."
Hermione looked quite pleased at that, but Ron seemed confused, tilting his head as he stated said confusion, "Why? I mean, we took it because it was the easiest of the electives."
"Well yeah but, I just don't think I'm up to hearing Professor Trelawney prophesying my death twice a month this year." Harry said, cracking his neck a little bit. He didn't know why he was feeling so tired.
Ron nodded as he continued to feast, giving it up to his friend, uttering, "True, true."
Hermione though, was very pleased, having been a fervent opposer to such class, "I'm glad to hear you saying that, Harry…" She smiled at her friend, adding, "I'll help you convince McGonagall to let you drop Divination, don't worry."
"Thanks." Harry said with a small smile, earning one on Hermione's face.
To be honest, he wasn't really into the conversation. He didn't know why he felt so tired, or angry. It was as if each passing day, he felt more and more irritated, fussing at ridiculous things that he knew where too miniscule to even bother about.
Like his inability to tell Cho Chang that he liked her.
The black-haired wizard looked at the aforementioned girl for a couple of moments. She was sitting alongside her housemates of Ravenclaw, somehow sensing his eyes, smiling at him as her friends giggled.
Harry could only return a tired half-smile.
The Boy-Who-Lived didn't even realised how much time had passed until he glanced at his friends and saw that everyone had finished their dinner. He was about to say something before Dumbledore spoke.
"Before we tuck in for the night, do allow me a little of your attention as I notify you all of this term's notices…" The powerful wizard looked around the hall, examining the youth that looked at him with full attention, "Mr Filch has asked me to let you know that the list of forbidden items, has now been updated to include Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. If you'd like to be sure of the full list, do help yourself by heading to Mr Filch's office, the list is right outside."
There was a slight amused glaze on his eyes before the Headmaster continued, "To the first-years, do let me remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as implied, strictly forbidd-"
He was interrupted however, by the sudden sound of thunder along with the hall's doors creaking open, all eyes looking on as a man walked in, or limped could be better said.
The man himself was rather striking, Harry would say. His face was filled his scars, whether it was because of countless battles or because he seemed to have a face that rested in a perpetual frown, he did not know. The eye however, that was the part that stuck out the most, as it was a magical eye, loosely darting all around the hall, as if expecting a sudden attack.
"Ah, Alastor, my old friend." Dumbledore smiled as he shook the man's hand.
"Albus." The man shook Albus' hand back, nodding as he walked towards the table behind the headmaster, taking his place without a glance to spare.
"May I introduce you all to Professor Alastor Moody…" There were some gasps coming from the students at the revelation of the man's name, many of them recognising him immediately, "A retired Auror…" That caught Harry's attention, "Professor Moody will be taking charge of Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."
Harry observed as the ex-Auror took out what it seemed to be a small vase from within his jacket, sipping it with a bitter shake of his head. Harry doubted it was pumpkin juice.
"He has a wealth of knowledge to share with you all, and I am sure you will all learn greatly from his lessons…" Dumbledore led a small round of applause for the grizzly-haired man who simply nodded tersely, "Now, as a final note, it is with great pleasure to announce that this year, Hogwarts will host the legendary Triwizard Tournament!"
There was an explosion of excitement following his announcement, though he could also see some who tilted their head in confusion. Allowing some moments for the students to settle down, the powerful elder spoke, "For those of you who have not heard of this prestigious event, allow me to explain…" He gave Harry a quick glance before he continued, "The British Ministry of Magic, specifically the Department of International Magical Cooperation, have worked tirelessly to bring back the tournament in a safer and more controllable manner than the last time it was held, some three hundred years ago."
Harry leaned in, intrigued.
"It is a competition between the three premiere schools of Europe…" Dumbledore paused before he continued, "Beauxbatons Academy of Magic from France, the Durmstrang Institute from Scandinavia, and of course, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from Great Britain…" Some students were already ecstatic, "Starting at the end of next month, we will be hosting a small contingent of each school for the remainder of the year. Each school will have a Champion to represent them, to be chosen at a later date by an impartial adjudicator."
Pausing a moment to allow some students to process the information, the Headmaster continued his explanation, "There will be three tasks that the three Champions most beat to claim the title of Triwizard Champion. The winner of the Cup, will gain fame, glory and of course, one thousand galleons of personal prize money."
At seeing every student seemingly fired up to become Hogwarts' representative, Dumbledore warned, "But before we all set our sights on becoming Hogwarts' Champion, I must urge you caution…" His voice was now terse, trying to make his students understand the dangers the event brings with it, "The tournament used to be held every five years as a way to create ties with the other schools, but it had to be discontinued when the death toll grew too high. Rules and precautions may have been established to avoid such things now, but the tournament will still be quite dangerous for even the most experienced of you, so with that in mind, I recommend that only those from the sixth or seventh year put their name forth, the adjudicator will choose the most worthy student to represent us in the tournament."
Harry's eyes widened slightly as he listened to Dumbledore. A sudden thought hitting him as he contemplated the idea of applying.
He must definitely didn't needed the fame, the glory, nor the money. He already had all of that. However, the thing that always stung was that it was all simply undeserved.
He was essentially famous because his parents gave their life to protect him, his mother somehow finding a way to shield him from the Killing Curse. He had the glory of killing Voldemort and ending his reign of terror, but he knew that in all honesty, it was his parents who deserved the recognition, not him.
As for the money, he was simply already filthy rich.
But this, this tournament presented an opportunity, a unique chance to prove that he was not just the Boy-Who-Lived, that he was not a living myth. He was a wizard, a good one at that, and becoming Hogwarts' Champion and winning the whole thing with his own strength, would finally put his mind at ease, knowing that for once, he deserved the fame, glory and money due to his own talent.
"You're not seriously considering entering the tournament, are you?" Hermione suddenly said, biting her lip as she saw the look on Harry's face, a worried expression on her face.
Ron perked at that, looking at Harry as he smirked slightly, simply stating, "As a matter of fact…" He smiled at her then, adding with a confident tone, "I am."
Hermione rushed to catch up with her best friends. She had stayed behind frozen for a minute as she processed what Harry had just said back at the hall.
"Harry!" She screamed, catching up to him, Ron also seemed to look surprised, but remained silent at the moment.
"Hermione!" Harry screamed back, stopping to look at his friend. There was an amused smile on his face as he stared at the brunette, finding her actions rather endearing.
"Wipe. That. Smile. Off. Of. Your. Face!…" The girl said as she hit him with her books, earning a chuckle from Ron, stating once they all stood still, "You can't be serious about this!"
"Why not?" Harry said, smirking as he waited for a response.
It came from Ron actually, the redheaded boy stating with a shrug, "Well, you did say you wanted to spend a quite year for once."
"Right!?…" Hermione agreed, looking back at the black-haired male to add, "Were not you the one who wanted to simply blend in the background and let others take the spotlight for once!?"
Harry did sighed deeply after that, grabbing Hermione's arm and pushing her gently towards the edge of the stairs, Ron closely behind.
Once they were out of the other students' way, the blackette said, "I know, 'Mione…" She calmed down a bit as he called her like that, Harry usually did that when he understood her worries, "Look, I truly wanted to just enjoy a year without incident, but…"
"But?" Ron said, urging his friend on.
"But…" Harry looked at both of them as he explained, "I… I just really thought this was an opportunity."
Confused, Hermione looked at Ron who seemed as lost as her, thus she turned back to Harry to ask, "An opportunity for what?"
Passing his hand through his hair, the boy replied, "To finally make people look at something other than my scar."
Both Ron's and Hermione's eyes widened at that, remaining silent as their friend continued.
"Only you, Hermione, and the Weasleys, look at me as Harry…" The boy looked forlorn, only now did they noticed how heavy his eyes seemed, "If I can win this thing, I can finally earn everything I already have."
Both understood him completely now. They knew how much Harry hated the attention he got, he has always felt undeserving of such and perhaps, he really was undeserving of it. But even so, Harry simply inhaled and took it all in without hesitation. That was his biggest virtue, and perhaps equally his biggest flaw.
"Bloody hell, Harry…" Ron whispered, looking at the side before he added, eyes now locking to Harry's, "But I guess, if that's what you want…" He smiled, "I'm behind ya."
Harry smiled at that, saying, "Thank you, Ron."
Sighing, Hermione looked at the floor for a moment before she turned to the redhead, asking, "What about you, Ron? Are you planning on trying too?"
Ron though, shook his head, answering, "Hell no, I'll support Harry in anyway I can, but if he doesn't want the tranquillity, I certainly do…" Harry chuckled, the Weasley turning to face his female friend to ask, "What about you?"
Hermione shook her head, saying, "Obviously not, I'd prefer much focus on my studies than a tournament…" Ignoring the 'typical Hermione' comments both of her friends whispered out, she looked at Harry to say, "Besides, if you're really doing this, Harry, then… I'd rather help you staying alive through this."
Harry smiled, hugging the brunette who returned the action in kind, the boy whispering, "Thank you, I'd honestly wouldn't be able to do this without you two."
"Well, well, well, what do we have here, George?"
"I see determination, Fred."
"Mhm, indeed."
"Such fire!"
A sudden pair of arms, two to be precise, suddenly appeared around Harry's shoulders, the blackette not needing to turn behind to see who approached them.
"Fred. George." Harry greeted, a small smile plastered on his face as he turned behind to face them now.
The two aforementioned men stood before the Golden Trio, huge smiles on their faces as Fred said, "Apologies, we couldn't help but overhear your conversation just now."
"We had a feeling you might wanna join in the fun!" George added.
Groaning, Ron crossed his arms, rolling his eyes as he mock-asked, "You two are seriously thinking on participating as well?"
"Why of course, baby brother." Fred replied with a smirk.
"We wouldn't want the crowd missing us now, would we?" George added.
Ignoring the annoyance he felt by the way Fred referred to him, Ron just snorted, shaking his head disapprovingly as he stated with a smirk, "Doubt you'll be picked anyway."
"Two can dream." Both older Weasleys said in unison.
Hermione looked at her fellow students, listening the excited whispers amongst them, saying after a moment, "Well, there's definitely no lack of competition, for what I can see."
"Well, it is a legendary tournament…" Harry said before he inhaled, looking at his fellow students as well before he concluded his thought, "I reckon half of the school, at the very least, will apply for the spot."
The redheaded twins nodded, both grabbing Harry's shoulder, shaking him slightly as one spoke, "In that, you are correct, my honorary Weasley."
"That means, you should take these two months to prepare for the competition." George said.
"Mhm, most of the students from the sixth and seventh year will put their name forth, so you have a lot of making up to do!" Fred followed.
Hermione looked at the two with a tilted head and a raised eyebrow, expressing her surprise, "That's… an actually sound advice from you two."
"Who would've thought, huh?" Ron teased.
Smiling, both twins said in unison, "We have our moments."
Harry just snorted, whispering, "Yeah, yeah, I get you…" Separating himself from the two Weasleys, Harry simply fixed his backpack while turning to look at his friends, smiling slightly as he stated, "Better start soon, I guess."
Harry laid peacefully against the trunk of a large tree, eyes closed, enjoying the bliss the gentle breeze provided him with.
The last of the Potters was currently on the lake close to Hogwarts, enjoying a moment to himself just after finishing a friendly match of Quidditch with his friends. The school might have cancelled this year's Quidditch House Cup to give way to the Triwizard Tournament, but that didn't mean they couldn't organise some friendly matches as to not get rusty.
That was until they were kicked out of the field however, since it was going to, apparently, be used for the tournament later on, thus, fun ended.
Instead of going back to Gryffindor's common room to meet up with his friends, Harry decided to take an hour or so in complete solitude, as it had been quite a while since he enjoyed the peace and quiet of loneliness.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoyed being with Ron and Hermione, they were his everything. But still, sometimes, all he wanted was to just be by himself and do some good 'ol soul searching.
He was also quite tired of all the studying and practicing he had been doing over the last two months. That's how long it has been since the announcement of the tournament was made, and the selection of the Champions was to be made a day after tomorrow, so he was feeling quite anxious.
"Il fait si putain humide et froid…"
A sudden harsh whisper brought the black-haired wizard back from his pondering, opening one lazy eye to observe his side, trying to figure out who had perturbed his tranquillity.
He did not recognise the person who spoke, but he knew where she belonged to. It was a beautiful woman with silver-blonde hair, eyes as blue as those oceans he's seen in some muggle documentaries about nature, a very well-developed figure, standing there with an unmistakable air of natural grace. She was dead-stunning, he agreed.
He still didn't believe her beauty warranted all the saliva the boys from his school seem to drop at her sight, but she was beautiful indeed.
He didn't know her name, but he knows that she belongs to one of the two schools that arrived some days ago to participate in the tournament. Her school being Beauxbatons, the French equivalent of Hogwarts.
She wasn't wearing the same uniform though, as instead of that blue fancy-ass-sort-of-dress with which they arrived, she was now simply wearing a light sweater with casual clothes underneath it, absolutely not fit for the rough British weather.
"Pardon?" He said, realising that she didn't seemed to have noticed him there. Frankly, he didn't know why he spoke at all.
The girl appeared a little startled after he spoke, her blues turning to her side to see who had talked, "Ah…" Her eyes suddenly caught glimpse of a black-haired boy sitting atop the grass, lazily resting on a tree, wearing a jacket she recognised belonged to a Quidditch team from Hogwarts, probably his house's.
Before she could continue her sentence, her blues found a scar on his forehead, a scar that she, alongside everybody else, she guessed, pretty much knew about. Her action however, seemed to have bothered the boy, as he frowned, turning towards the lake instead of her.
"I w-was just saying that it was too cold and wet." She spoke, her English somewhat broken but still understandable, just hesitating a little because of the cold and the realisation of who she was talking to.
Sighing deeply, Harry closed his eyes, saying with a tone that was almost a whisper, "It ain't that bad."
Recovering herself, she raised an eyebrow, looking at the lake as she added without a drop of sympathy, "It's miserable."
"You get used to it."
"To the misery or the weather?"
"Both."
Silence ensued as she stared at boy, an amused glint on her eyes, finding this little jabbering of theirs somewhat entertaining.
"You're Harry Potter." It wasn't a question.
"You a seer?" He quipped.
"I doubt there's someone in the magical world that doesn't know you…" She tilted her head, smirking, crossing her arms below her bosoms, stating with a tinge of cynicism, "You're quite famous."
"Lucky me."
The amount of sarcasm in his voice, made her flinch.
None really knew why, but they remained silent for a few more moments, not ignoring each other, simply staring at the gloomy sky of Great Britain.
"You're entering the tournament?" She heard him ask.
"Yes…" She responded, confidence emanating from her words. She narrowed her eyes at him ever so slightly, throwing a question herself, "What about you, Mr Potter?" The honorific she threw, was filled with sarcasm.
He smirked, finally opening his eyes for her to see. She noted they were very pretty, an emerald green to be precise.
The boy stood, dusting himself up, turning to face her and as he causally leaned on the tree again, shoulder first this time, he replied, arms crossed before his chest, "I certainly am."
She raised an eyebrow, somewhat incredulous, staring at his eyes for a couple of moments, as if focusing on something.
He was slightly confused when she smiled, if just a little bit, before she questioned, "Aren't you a bit too young?"
"Age is just a number."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
Both fell into silence again, simply looking at one another.
A sudden chill interrupted the moment however, forcing the female to shiver, her bravado broken by the unforgivable weather of the island.
Harry raised an eyebrow when she stared at him, this time, with a glint that seemed to be both awaiting and irritated.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"You could lend me your jacket, no?" She asked, not really knowing why. Simply flowing along.
Patting his Quidditch jacket, he smirked, his black hair moving as the breeze continued, "It's not my fault you didn't packed appropriate clothing."
She smirked ever so slightly, still cold but quipping back, "I thought English men were supposed to be gentlemen."
"I thought French were supposed to smell bad." He clapped back, an infuriating smirk on his face as he sort-of complimented her.
There was a tense silence as the two stared at each other, gauging one another. That is until both laughed at their strange, yet entertaining, exchange.
Relenting, the Potter lad pushed himself off the tree and walked towards her, taking his jacket off of him, and as she looked at him pointedly, he stated, "It has my name and number on the back, though."
She shrugged, accepting the piece of cloth and donning it quickly, stating as she did so, "As long as it warms, I don't care."
Harry just snorted, looking at her with an amused glint. She was slightly taller than him, not surprising since she was clearly older as well. He reckoned that in a year or two though, he'll outgrow her.
Without another word, she smiled at him and turned around, beginning to walk away, heading back to Hogwarts' grounds.
"You didn't even tell me your name." He said.
"You don't need to know." She claimed without looking back, though he was sure she was wearing a satisfied smirk as she walked away.
"Blimey." He whispered, chuckling to himself.
The boy kept his hands in his pockets, looking at the horizon, noticing that it was a few minutes from dusk. He felt a chill, the warmth on him no longer present once his jacket was gone.
Sighing, he turned towards Hogwarts and began the walk back, a small smile on his face as he travelled. The girl had managed to quell the nerves that threatened to ruin his day just moments ago, so lending her his jacket in exchange, didn't seem like a bad trade at all.
Albus Dumbledore was a man who has seen pretty much all.
He was a one-hundred thirteen old man, and despite still being considered as the most powerful wizard at the moment, perhaps of all time, he was just now starting to feel the aches of old age.
He had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Some of the occurrences of the last three years, along with the things that Harry himself had found or told him about, like that dream he had this past summer about a certain dark wizard, were creating a great sense of caution in him.
He regretted many things, he's made several mistakes, but at the end of the day, he'd only done, he's only doing, what he thought was right for the greater good.
It didn't stop making him feel like a fool, though.
He worried for Harry, greatly. He knows he suffers whenever he goes back to the Dursleys, but the protections his mother put on him, could only continue to work under the watch of someone who shared her blood, and the only one left was his dreadful aunt Petunia. Even if it didn't seem like it, Harry was safest there, than anywhere else.
He also knew that Harry felt frustrated by his own refusal of explaining why Voldemort wanted to kill him. Harry knew well that the Dark Lord was not after James or Lilly, he was after Harry, a babe, it made absolutely no sense to the boy and Dumbledore agreed.
The Headmaster knew of course, the reason that is. A prophecy. A simple set of words that set this whole thing in motion. Harry wanted to know and frankly, Albus wanted to tell him. But the moment Harry knows the truth, of who he is, what he is meant to be, he knew that Harry's innocence will be gone for ever.
"It's starting to fade anyway." He whispered to himself, tiredly cracking his neck. He's seen the boy, ever since his incident with the dementors and Sirius, Harry always looks seemingly angry, or altered in some way.
A knock on his door brought the old man out of his musings, sighing before he turned around and spoke, "Come on in."
The one that entered his office, was his oldest friend and confidant, the head of the Gryffindor House, Minerva McGonagall.
"Ah Minerva, what brings you here?" The powerful wizard said with a small smile on his face as the woman approached him.
Reaching his desk, Minerva stared at her friend, a worried frown on her face as she spoke, "You saw it too, right Albus? His face."
Sighing, the Headmaster knew who she was talking about, thus he responded, "Yes, I did, he seemed determined."
"He's fourteen years old!…" She said, her eyes looking at her friend as she added, "He's too young for this!"
Rubbing his tired eyes, the old man argued, "That he is, but we cannot forbid him from participating, while we allow everyone else to do so, it'll be unfair."
"And letting him get into these dangerous situations every year is what? Fair?…" She felt herself almost dizzy as she continued fervently, "I just don't understand why he has to go through this kind of things every year… Why you let him go through this every year…"
Both knew it was and wasn't an accusation, but Dumbledore did not feel offended by it, as he was well aware that he deserved it. Still, he knew it was simply useless to try and make his friend understand with dismissive answers, as she had grown quite protective of the boy, something he was immensely grateful for.
Thus, he decided to simply be out with the truth, and tell her exactly why he allowed Harry to go on to such dangerous adventures, "The truth is, Minerva…" The woman perked at the tone in his voice, she had only heard that tone whenever Albus was about to say something that came, really, from within his heart, "That he has to grow, to be strong, to get through the pain… because he is HIS equal."
McGonagall didn't need clarification about who HE was, she knew well who Albus was talking about, thus, she could only whisper, stunned, "Albus…"
Cutting her off, Albus went on, tiredly, "I am powerful, Minerva, I know I am more than a match for Voldemort…" He sighed then, only then, McGonagall able to see how truly old her friend was, "But I am not his equal, I cannot bring an end to this nightmare…" He locked eyes with the woman, concluding with a sorrowful whisper, "Only Harry can."
The female professor, still tried to produce a counter-argument, though it came out really weak, "But he…"
"He's not dead, Minerva, we both know it…" Albus' voice was quite severe, as well as tired, "He's somewhere, out there… He already tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone… There are rumours about a dark presence in Albania… I…" He stopped, contemplative, before he finished, "I fear, his return nears."
"Besides…" The man said after a moment silence, offering a weak smile to Minerva as he continued, "It's not an assurance that the Goblet will choose him."
Minerva though, scoffed, stating bitterly, "Do you honestly believe what you just said?"
His silence was telling.
She did not agreed, nor was she comfortable with what her friend and mentor had said. But if there was one thing she agreed with, was that Harry needed to be ready, for she could feel it in her bones, that there were dark times looming.
"At least, let me help him through the trials, discreetly of course." She said, though it ended sounding like a plea.
Dumbledore simply chuckled, waving her concern as he stated, "I wouldn't have it any other way, Minerva… He'll need all the help he can get."
Sighing, Minerva simply turned around and left, lots of things in her mind as she made way to her room.
As for Dumbledore, the old wizard simply leaned back on his chair, once again the aches of old age making their presence known.
He didn't really know if he was right about his plans, but honestly, that was all he got. He believed in Harry, he knew the boy was the one and that he'll come atop any trial that faces him.
He simply hoped that that belief, didn't made the boy follow a frightening similar path.
"A what now?" The scarred fourteen-year old said as he tilted his head, clear confusion present in his eyes while he stared at Hermione.
Hermione sighed, fixing her bushy hair before she repeated what she'd just said, "I said, that she's a Veela… Veela."
Still not getting her point, he turned to look at Ron who simply raised an eyebrow at him. He seemed to know what their female friend was talking about, but alas, he didn't looked like he'd help.
"What is that?" Harry inquired, leaning on to focus on the girl.
Groaning in frustration, the muggle-born witch explained, "I will give a simplified version, because I know you won't follow me otherwise…" Smiling slightly as Harry smirked, she continued, "Veelas are semi-human magical beings that are well known for having… umm… a very 'alluring' gleam… specifically to men."
Still confused, it was Ron the one who summarised it for him, "They are known for seducing men with quite the ease."
Raising an eyebrow at that, Harry looked back at Hermione to say, "Is that why every male in our school drools like a leaking hosepipe whenever she's around?"
Leaning back on her chair, the brunette nodded as she crossed her arms below her chest, speaking after a moment, "That's exactly why…" Smirking a little bitterly, she asked, "Do you remember those cheerleaders from the Bulgarian team in the Quidditch World Cup?"
"I bloody well do!" Ron exclaimed, his mind going back to such beauties.
"Not the time, Ronald…" Hermione uttered, annoyed. Going back to her bespectacled friend, she added, "The moment they started dancing, every male around was affected by their allure, even the referee was hit for some moments…" That was when a memory suddenly hit her, her head tilting as she whispered, staring at Harry, "Perhaps I should say, every man but you, Harry."
Shrugging, the blackette simply stated, "I mean yeah, they were gorgeous, she IS gorgeous, but I really didn't feel a thing back then…" He scratched his nape, concluding, "Don't feel it even now."
Hermione narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, whispering, "Really now?" She knew he was being honest. Even when the blond French approached them the day she arrived to get a plate of bouillabaisse next to them, Harry personally handed the plate to the woman, and while every man around clearly fell for her natural allure, Harry didn't even looked at her for more than two seconds.
"Mmm… She'll notice that…" The brunette witch thought with both amusement and worry.
"Still, don't even see what's the issue…" Harry cracked his neck, adding after the action, "We only talked for like a minute or so."
Ron didn't understand why Hermione brought it up either. He was, in fact, quite proud of his best friend for seemingly earning the attention of the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
Hermione simply sighed, leaning on as she explained, "Well, there really is no issue… I just worry that people will start spreading ill-founded rumours about you and her… rumours that might hurt you."
Raising an eyebrow, Harry looked at Ron who stated, seemingly siding with the brunette, "Well, she IS wearing you jacket without a care in the world, folks are already whispering about it."
"So what?…" The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged the concern off, adding, "Just another rumour about me, I can live with it."
Hermione didn't seem too happy with his answer though, as she remained staring at him with incredulous eyes.
Sighing, Harry brushed his messy hair as he whispered, "Look, if she doesn't care, then why would I?"
"What if BOTH of you are chosen for the tournament?…" Hermione argued, eyes narrowed as she spoke once more, "You'll be rivals, and I am sure someone will use something like this to cause a distraction to either of you."
Despite the fact that he was started to get annoyed by this, in his personal opinion, non-existent issue, he did agreed that something like this might be used against them. Or him, specifically.
"I'll cross that bridge if I have to, I rather much focus on being chosen as Hogwarts' Champion." He said with a tinge of finality.
Sighing in defeat, Hermione simply shook her head, grabbing the book before her, whispering as she opened it, "Suit yourself…" Searching for a page, she decided to put the conversation to rest, in order to switch the gears back to the tournament, saying after a brief inhale, "Let us continue reading this book then."
With those words, Harry focused on listening the tales of the past tournaments. Hermione had been amazing enough to find a book that recounted most of the previous tournaments, and knowing that usually the answers laid in the past, he listened with rapt attention as she read aloud.
He didn't had the time to think about the French girl at the moment.
"You nervous, mate?" Ron asked as he stuffed his mouth with food, looking at his raven-haired best friend who, while not overtly so, did looked a little bit anxious, his eyes darting around the large room as everyone excitedly talked about who might be chosen.
"A little…" Harry whispered back, looking at Ron to say with a slight bitter smirk, "It's not every year that I myself choose to be in danger."
Nodding in understanding, Ron remained focus on his snack while Hermione, who sat next to Harry, sighed, saying with an 'I told you so' tone, "No regrets now, Potter, your name is already in the Goblet."
Harry just sighed as he nodded, his greens turning to look at the mythical Goblet of Fire, firmly placed right before the staff's table.
"Come on now, don't be nervous!"
"That is not the attitude of a Champion! Right George?"
"Indeed, Fred."
The Golden Trio sighed collectively as the Weasley twins sat in front of them, a mischievous glance in their eyes as they stared at Harry, with George stating, "Besides, doesn't the thought of competing against your girlfriend excites you!?"
Raising an eyebrow, Harry heard Hermione's exasperated groan next to him, the boy tilting his head, his eyes filled with confusion when he asked, "What are you two prats even talking about?"
Harry did not liked the way the twins' eyes sparkled with amusement as Fred pointed towards the Ravenclaw table, his gaze pointing straight at a particular French female who easily stood out from her peers because of the black and red jacket she wore without a care in the world, the name 'Potter' along with the number '7' proudly present on the back.
Groaning as he started listening to some snickers and whispers, the Potter boy was now understanding why Hermione thought it to be such a bother, "It certainly is, now that I think about it…" He whispered to himself. Though, Hermione's really bitter snort, made him believe she heard him as well.
"I just lent the jacket to her, that's it, don't go around starting rumours that might get my balls burnt." He stated with a harsh whisper as he leaned on towards the twins.
The twins laughed and seemed to be ready to say something else, but the sound of Dumbledore's powerful voice gained everyone's attention, the elder man walking to stand before the Goblet.
"Please, please, settle down…" The Headmaster allowed a couple of moments to pass so the students could calm down enough for him to continue, doing so once he was satisfied with the silence that ensued, "Now, it thrills me to see how well the students of our houses seem to be getting along…" He nodded with a smile at Beauxbatons' Headmistress and Durmstrang's Headmaster, both reciprocating the action, though Igor Karkaroff did so tersely, "But tonight, brings us together to finally learn the names of those who will compete, for the Triwizard Tournament!"
A big applause followed the wizard's statement, faces of excitement filling the room, everybody eager to see who will be chosen as their respective Champions.
"Now!…" Dumbledore's voice, once again reigned the crowd, turning around to gesture the Goblet, the mesmerising blue fire dancing around as the man continued, "Let us begin!"
Everyone leaned on, tense, eyes wide as they observed Albus Dumbledore walking towards the Goblet and as he raised his arm, the blue flame suddenly turned red, spewing out a piece of burnt paper that flew right at the Headmaster's hand.
The grizzly-haired man stared at the paper for a couple of seconds, before he faced the students and declared, "For Durmstrang!…" He paused, "Viktor Krum!"
There was a roar as the aforementioned male stood, the crowd applauding him as he walked towards the teachers.
"Absolutely no surprises there!" Ron claimed with a fervent applause.
Once the Bulgarian Champion disappeared from the hall, Albus raised his hand once more, the crowd silencing as they awaited the next name.
The blue flame once again turned red, another piece of paper flowing out of it and heading to the man's outstretched hand, grasping it and taking a moment to inspect it.
"For Beauxbatons!…" Everyone perked as Dumbledore added a dramatic pause, "Fleur Delacour!"
An equally loud roar followed her name, the blond witch smirking triumphally as she stood up and nodded at everyone her thanks. She sent a glance at Harry, smirking as she fixed his jacket over her, walking towards where Viktor headed to, knowing that she will see the Boy-Who-Lived quite soon.
Harry just shook his head at her actions.
Similar to before, Dumbledore once again raised his arm right after Fleur disappeared, the crowd, now more than ever, excited to hear who will be representing their school in the tournament.
Red flame spewed another piece of paper, gingerly falling into the Headmaster's welcoming palm.
There was a slight smile on Albus' face as he read it, turning to look at Minerva McGonagall, who simply closed her eyes and sighed in resignation as the Headmaster claimed what many already knew, "For Hogwarts!… Harry Potter!"
Gryffindor exploded.
"Fucking hell… Let's GO!" Ron was the loudest of them all, as he stood up and hugged his best friend. His excitement, even startled Harry.
Harry though, simply smiled, keeping his nervousness to himself as he stood up. Though, he turned to look at Hermione, seeing her smiling slightly at him while shaking her head in amusement. He knew she was happy for him, but she was clearly just as worried.
Walking towards his Headmaster, he smiled at Albus, who smiled and winked at him.
Harry then followed the other Champions, heading towards the room where they awaited.
However, before he entered it, he took a moment to inhale deeply, closing his eyes as he uttered under his breath, "You're in control, Harry, you chose this." He needed to remind himself that this time, it was his decision to be here.
Stepping into the room, Harry looked around, searching for his competition.
In the far side of the room, Viktor Krum leaned against the wall, his eyes following him before he nodded, Harry nodding back at him.
It was then that a female voice drew his attention to his side.
"I had feeling I'd see you here." Fleur was leaning against a sidewall as well, a small smirk on her face as she regarded her Hogwarts' counterpart.
Harry tilted his head, stating with no shortage of disbelief, "Really now?"
Nodding, there was a silence following that diminutive exchange, silence broken when the blackette spoke again.
"You seem very fond of my jacket, huh Delacour?" Harry crossed his arms, a smirk on his face while he stood some steps before her.
On the distance, Viktor seemed rather curious of his fellow Champions' demeanour.
She shrugged, placing her hands in the pockets, before she replied, "I like the annoyance it causes you, Potter."
Her smirk was both infuriating and equally captivating.
"You think so?" He said.
"I know so." She quipped.
Almost as if in a stalemate, the two stared at one another, thinking on the next quip to say.
It had to stop however, when the door opened and from it, a large, blue-eyed, blond man with rosy skin headed straight at them, a large smile on his face when he reached Harry, placing an arm around his shoulders, looking at the three Champions before he spoke.
"How wonderful!…" His smile almost blinded Harry, "You three, are the worthy representatives of your schools! For the glory of the Triwizard Tournament!"
The three Champions looked at the blond male with a raised eyebrow, not really getting where all that excitement was coming from.
"Well now…" The voice of Albus Dumbledore, suddenly won their attention, the old man making his way towards them, along with the other Headmasters and some teachers, "Looks like everything is set."
Ludo Bagman nodded, turning to face the three contenders to elaborate, "Now, let me explain how this works…" He cleared his throat, "You will be facing three tasks, each of which gets progressively difficult… They will take place along the year, so the last task will happen right before the end of the term."
Nodding, the Champions listened.
"The first task will take place in just about a month from now, however…" He smirked, excited, "You will not know what waits for you in this challenge."
"What?" Fleur asked as her head titled, confused.
Chuckling, the badly dressed blond man replied, "The first task, is about testing your courage in the face of the unknown… You will only know what you'll face, when the day of the task arrives."
Before any of the young'uns could say anything, Albus intervened, "With that said, congratulations are in order…" He smiled, the three nodding at him as the Headmaster added, "You should feel honoured to have been chosen, and you were all chosen because of your exceptional talents, so whatever happens, remember that this is simply a friendly competition, and that your opponents are just as skilled as you are, so treat each other with honour and sportsmanship."
Nodding, Bagman added, "Then, you should all go and celebrate! We will gather once more in a week, to proceed with the wand weighing protocol."
Ludo turned around and walked towards the door. Igor simply urged Viktor to follow him, the Bulgarian Champion nodding at both Fleur and Harry as he walked away.
"Let's go, Fleur, we should begin preparations." Olympe Maxime said, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons placing a hand on the blond's shoulder, seemingly in a hurry to get her out of there.
Fleur simply nodded, but before she walked away, she turned to Harry. Instead of a smirk though, she smiled ever so slightly, whispering, "Good luck."
Harry smiled back, watching as she walked out, snorting when he saw her back, his name and number presented for all to see.
"Ah, young love." Albus muttered as he observed the exchange.
Harry shook his head though, looking at the Headmaster to protest, "S-Sir… it's not like…"
Albus paid him no mind however. Instead, he faced Harry, placing both hands on his shoulders to say, "Now Harry, you should focus like never before, those two have a couple of years of experience ahead of you, so you're going to have to do double the effort in order to prevail this ordeal."
Sighing, the Potter boy nodded slightly, whispering back, "I know Professor… I… I'll do my best."
"That's all we can do." He heard McGonagall claim, looking at her to see a thin smile on her face, the kind woman patting his cheek as a sign of encouragement.
"Now then, you can go and celebrate with your friends, I am sure they are all very eager to celebrate this achievement." Albus said with a small smile.
Nodding, Harry bid his farewell to those still present. He was still nervous, perhaps more now that he has been chosen as Hogwarts' representative. But he managed to reign his nerves, instead, choosing to enjoy, today at least, a night of celebration.
Looking as the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared from sight, Minerva sighed, eyes tired when she whispered, "I doubt this year will go as simple."
"If only." Albus agreed wholeheartedly.
Once again, Harry found himself in the lake, standing, though his back was against the trunk of the tree he has grown a liking to, leaning back as he closed his eyes for a moment.
It had been an arduous evening last night, the Gryffindor common room was turned into a loud rendezvous as everyone danced and celebrated his naming as a Champion.
Some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were present as well, Cho included, who smiled at him all the time. Hell, there were even some Slytherin present. It was nice to see that not everyone in the Snake's house, was as heavy as some of their ranks.
Even then, there were many who were most definitely not happy with his selection. Harry reckoned that out of the one hundred percent of students in Hogwarts, forty wholeheartedly supported him, twenty were indifferent, and forty were against him. Mostly older students, who thought they were better prepared for the tournament, than a four-year student.
He doubted any of them had killed a Basilisk though.
Even so, it was nice to see he had the support of, at the least, half of the school.
There were sounds of footsteps approaching, stopping some distance away from him.
For some reason, he didn't need to open his eyes to know who it was.
"Delacour." He said.
"Potter." He heard back.
Opening his eyes, he turned to his side to have a glimpse at her. It was near the dusk, so the orange tint of the sky gave her profile a very nice glow. The way she fixed a strand of her hair while still wearing his jacket, made for a very nice view.
A very, very fine view indeed.
"Had fun last night?" The French girl asked with a tiny smirk, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he replied, eyes forward, "Kinda… Never been too much of a party guy myself…" He sighed, looking at her to ask, "What about you?"
"No." Her response was so dry, that Harry thought she might need water later.
Even though he wanted to ask why, he could see that she wasn't in the mood to perhaps say why. Hell, they weren't even friends, or so he thought. Honestly, he didn't know what the hell they were, but he doubted they were in 'personal stuff' terms, yet.
He just really enjoyed these brief exchanges.
"Partying is overrated anyway." He offered with a small shrug, not knowing what to say to make her feel better.
It seemed though, that his effort was enough to force a small smile out of her, snorting as she shook her head, whispering, "Yeah…"
There was a comfortable silence after that, both mages looking at the horizon, seeing as the sun slowly faded into the distance, marking the nearing of the night.
Harry was so comfortable, that he didn't even noticed when Fleur made her way towards him, obstructing his view when she stood right in front of him.
He raised his eyebrow at the move, there was a fair distance between them, perhaps a metre or so, but the woman was looking at him intently, it seemed as if she was making some kind of effort.
"What are you doing?" He asked, pushing himself off the trunk, standing now a little bit closer to her. He was thankful that she wasn't that much taller than him to make this scene look quite foolish.
It took a moment until the beautiful witch finally blinked, seemingly surprised as she asked, "Am I not pretty?" Her head was tilted to the side, and she seemed to be genuinely eager for his answer.
He was severely confused though, why the hell would she ask that? He might have believed that she was just fishing for compliments, but the genuine confusion in her eyes, spoke about her honesty. She was truly curious about his answer.
"You bloody well know you are." Was his answer, a raised eyebrow, looking at her straight in the eyes.
There seemed to be many things going through her mind as she continued to stare at him, not saying a word, but no prying her eyes off of his.
For Harry, it felt like an eternity until she finally said, the usual smirk on her face now returning, though this time, it somehow seemed brighter, "You're not drooling."
"You're not THAT pretty." Was his immediate reply. A part of him regretted what he said, but he was an honest guy and he wasn't about to change that right now, thus, he sucked it up.
His answer seemed to caught her off guard. But before Harry said anything, she smiled, the first genuine smile he has seen on her face.
And bloody hell was it breath-taking.
"Thank you." She whispered as she began strutting past him.
He didn't make an effort to stop her, simply looking at her with a raised eyebrow, turning back to state his confusion, "Why?" He kind of offended her as far as he was concerned, so he had no idea why she looked so genuinely happy.
She simply turned to look at him while keeping her pace, and kept that smile on her face, not saying anything at all.
He snorted once she turned forward and made her way out of the lake, disappearing into the distance a few moments after.
"What a strange, strange girl." He muttered, his eyes now going back to the sunset.
And just like last time, all of his anxiousness faded away.
A/N: Well, I hope you've find it interesting! I can promise when the next chap will be up, as I am busy, but I'll get to it as soon as I can. Leave me your thoughts, and thank you! Cheers!