Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
A new chapter! One of the several I wrote in Tanzania and now have to redo to get out all the spelling errors and autocorrect errors my phone had helpfully added to spice things up.
Also, on a slight sidenote, if you're going to tell me it's too close to cliché's let me know which, even if it's by a PM! I have a plan, and it's not something I've seen anywhere else, (there are a lot of fics though so there will likely be some overlap) but I'd like to know so I can tweak things so there are no misconceptions. I hate it when my attempts at subtle foreshadowing go unnoticed ;)
Chapter 16
'I would like to discuss the first task with you, Fleur,' Madam Maxime told her firmly.
'You were not happy with my performance?' Fleur was confident she had done as well as she could.
'You performed perfectly,' her headmistress reassured her. 'I would like to discuss the other champions and their methods so that you are familiar with their skills.'
Fleur nodded eagerly. She had not been able to see any of the tasks and was quite eager to see exactly how Harry Potter had escaped the Hungarian Horntail entirely unscathed.
'The Hogwarts' Champion, Cedric Diggory, was the first to compete. His plan was commendable, but not carried out effectively. However he did display some advanced transfiguration and it would be wise to assume he is equally proficient in other subjects.'
Cedric Diggory seemed a brilliant student, but Fleur fancied she held an edge over him.
'I do not think that the Hogwarts' Champion will be your main source of competition,' Madame Maxime concluded.
Fleur nodded again and waited for her headmistress to continue, knowing about Cedric's task was useful, but not that which she was most interested in.
'Viktor Krum too, displayed some proficiency.'
Fleur suppressed an irritated frown, of course Harry Potter would be last.
'He used the Conjunctivitis Curse to blind his dragon, his casting was very swift and accurate, but his plan did not account for the damage the injured dragon would do. Durmstrang's Champion is clearly powerful and an accurate spell caster, but he lacks foresight. He is a dueller and a flyer, not a planner, he will prove a strong rival in any task with Karkaroff to help him plan.'
'And Harry Potter?' Fleur asked quickly.
'He cheated,' Madame Maxime smiled, seemingly impressed. 'He took the model dragon,' she gestured at the Welsh Green that was sleeping peacefully on Fleur's bed, 'and used a very powerful enlarging charm. The Horntail fought the model and while it was distracted Mr Potter used the Rupturing Curse to blind the eye on his side. The model, for all its enchantments, was only plastic and didn't last long, but the boy stole the egg in the gap.'
'An enlarging charm,' Fleur frowned. She had been hoping for something a bit more spectacular, something that would give a reason as to why he was so different.
'Oh,' her headmistress tapped her fingers on the doorframe, 'disappointed by his simple solution?'
'No.' Fleur had to concede it was a brilliant strategy.
'Jealous, then?' Madame Maxime pressed. Her headmistress was oddly fixed on getting Fleur to answer and she was afraid her teacher might have noticed her curiosity in the boy.
'It was a good solution,' Fleur decided, 'but only for this exact situation. I doubt he is capable of creating the enchantments that were already on the model, and even if he were, almost any magic would be able to defeat such a creation. It is impossible to create something that is capable of using magic as a witch or wizard does.'
'You must look deeper than his solution,' Madame Maxime remonstrated. 'The scale of the enlarging charm indicated surprising magical power for a fourteen year old, equal or better than any other champion, including yourself. His knowledge and use of a curse considered dark is also very interesting. Albus Dumbledore would not consent to it being taught here, so he must have another source of counsel.'
'You are impressed with him,' Fleur realised quietly.
'Indeed I am,' her headmistress admitted. 'There is something different about him, do not pretend you have not noticed it.'
'I might have,' Fleur confessed. Madame Maxime levelled a knowing stare at her.
'He does not react to your allure, does he?'
'No, he barely even noticed me until the first task.' Fleur scowled at the memories and her headmistress smiled amusedly at the expression on her face. Her amusement did not help Fleur's temper in the slightest.
'He is not to be underestimated,' Madame Maxime warned. 'You cannot beguile him, he appears to be much more powerful than we suspected, and knows at least one questionably immoral curse well beyond what wizards his age should.'
'I will not,' Fleur promised. 'Experience and knowledge will allow me to remain ahead. The first task is always the simplest. He is only resistant to my passive charm,' she added. 'I have met many who are like him in that regard. They crumble when I actually exert it upon them.'
Fleur made no mention that even those still noticed her, or that she suspected his solution to be as simplistic as possible for reasons other than his limited education. There had been no fear and no surprise in the eyes of the boy before the task. His distraction had been simple and spectacular, it drew the eye away from Harry Potter himself.
'Perhaps,' her headmistress replied, 'but I must insist you be wary of him. He has technically cheated already, he might do so again and in a less benign way. It was his breaking of the rules alone that cost him the points that would have placed him first. If he had had the presence of mind to summon the toy, you would be second.'
That was a humbling realisation. Fleur had been beaten by a fourteen year old. She might have more points, but his solution had been superior to hers.
It was unacceptable.
'I cannot guess at enough info the boys talents or personality to offer a useful opinion,' Madame Maxime began, 'but he is a dangerous unknown, one that seems to have unsettled even Albus Dumbledore.'
With that her headmistress retreated from the entrance to Fleur's room.
Albus Dumbledore had not seemed particularly unsettled to Fleur. Concerned, yes, proud, perhaps, but no fourteen year old was going to unnerve a wizard of such legendary power. Harry Potter was different, unusual enough to catch her attention and then keep her curiosity, but, despite his legend and his evidently prodigious talent, it was unlikely he would win the tournament.
The fact that she was even considering him a rival was a surprise. Fleur had been sure he would not pass the first task, certain enough to pity him before facing the Horntail and even attempt to offer some comfort. She had been met with a cool, calm exterior and it had thrown her off.
He did not even know my name.
Fleur had been quite insulted by that. She knew that he must have heard it, if not at the choosing of the champions then at the Wand-weighing. It appeared she had been beneath his notice again and it hadn't helped when he returned to the medical tent after facing the nightmarish Hungarian Horntail without a scratch and only two points shy of her own score.
Fleur grumpily poked the sleeping model of the Welsh Green. This was not the time to contemplate her curiosity about Harry Potter. She had a letter to send and without an owl of her own that meant a trek to the Owlery.
Fleur carefully tucked her letter to Gabrielle into her uniform and reached for her wand.
Casting the disillusionment charm she snuck out of the carriage, slipping between Caroline and Emilie when they opened the door. It was much easier for her to remain unseen, especially with the Christmas celebrations approaching. The fact that she had to attend and thus needed a date was the sole major detractor of her status as champion.
Hogwarts' Owlery was at the top of another grey, dreary tower about ten minutes walk from the Beauxbatons' carriage. She hoped that like her school the school provided owls with which to send letters. Her family owl could not be spared to fly between herself and Gabrielle all the time when they were such a distance apart.
The Owlery at the tower top was not the neat, elegant birdcage of Beauxbatons. The room was full of thick, wooden beams and worn perches. A smell of sour bird droppings and musty, dry wood hung like smoke throughout the building. Fleur was hardly surprised. The Birdcage was one of the tallest, most graceful parts of the chateaux in the Pyrenees; it would not find its equal in this land of clouds and rain.
She sniffed very quietly and tip-toed though the open door into the centre of the room. Fleur had learned to move quiet stealthily with her constant use of the charm. Disillusioning something did nothing to conceal any sound it made, so it was necessary for her to be light-footed and careful if she did not want to be discovered.
Fleur did not want to be discovered. She knew the minute she was seen outside of the tasks or theBeauxbatons' carriage she would immediately be the target of every male student who hoped to attend the Yule Ball that accompanied the Triwizard Tournament.
'That is a very good disillusionment charm,' somebody remarked from behind her with a hint of admiration and amusement. It only took Fleur a moment to remember the person attached to the voice.
He only notices me when I am invisible.
It was absurd. Nothing about Harry Potter ever seemed to be as she expected.
'Thank you,' she replied a little stiffly, dispelling the charm. It was evidently useless now. 'How did you notice?'
'Miss Delacour.' The boy seemed slightly surprised, but not as shocked as she had expected. 'I am aware of the weaknesses of the charm,' he explained, 'and thus capable of recognising it.'
'What are you doing up here?' Fleur asked. He was holding neither an owl nor a letter.
'Sending a letter,' he responded, raising an eyebrow at her question. 'So are you.'
'No I am not,' Fleur sighed. 'I have no owl.'
Harry Potter's expression grew thoughtful. 'Perhaps I could offer you the use of my owl?'
'Did you not just send a letter?' Unless he had two owls his offer was useless until his returned. Fleur did not really like the idea of being in his debt either, even for such a small thing, but Gabby was more important than her pride and if she had had to accept his charity she would.
'I was sending a letter to my godfather,' Harry embellished. 'For one reason or another I have not been able to contact him until now, but he sent his own owl and I returned my letter with it.'
'I did not realise you had a godfather,' Fleur admitted.
'Not many do.'
He stepped past her, taking great care not to get too close to her. Fleur appreciated that. Too many men took any opportunity to brush as closely past her as they could, something she hated even more than the stares. It did strike her, however, that the gesture seemed as much for his benefit as for her's.
A beautiful, black-speckled, snowy owl perched by the window in the far side of the tower top. It gave Harry a rather unimpressed look, then deliberately swivelled its head around to look in the other direction.
He laughed gently. 'Don't be like that Hedwig, I was going to give you a letter to deliver on behalf of an acquaintance of mine.
Is that what I am? An acquaintance.
Fleur rather felt that you had to notice a person to deem them an acquaintance, but she supposed it was accurate enough. They had sort of met and spoken, but they were certainly not friends.
Hedwig's head slowly swivelled back around to stare at her owner.
After a long moment of staring the bird hopped closer to Harry and hooted softly.
'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist,' the boy smiled.
He turned to Fleur, still smiling and held out his hand. 'Do you have the letter? She's a bit particular about who gives her the things she takes, nearly took of one of my friends fingers a year ago.' There was a a very sight emphasis on the way he said friend that gave Fleur the impression they were nowhere near as close now as they had been.
'I do.' Fleur reached inside her uniform and pulled out the now warm envelope from where it had been tucked through the strap of her bra. Hopefully Harry would not realise where she had been keeping it. It would be the first time his ability to not notice her would act in her favour.
Harry took it rather gingerly, clearly aware that it had at least been close to her, holding the uppermost corner. Fleur felt a little insulted that he was so repulsed by just her body heat.
Maybe I should just hug him should we have to confront one another during the task.
'Gabrielle Delacour,' he told Hedwig. 'It is a long way to Beauxbatons from here. You can find her?'
The bird fluffed its feathers in indignation and took off through the window without a sound.
'I shall take that as a yes,' Harry smiled. 'Your younger sister?' He asked after a moment of watching his owl fly away.
'Yes,' Fleur answered, quite curious as to how he had known. It was possible that the young wizard had been researching his rivals just as she had been looking into him.
'She attends school, but is not here at the tournament,' he seemed to have sensed her query, 'if she is anything like you she would be here were she older or a twin.'
Fleur could find no fault in his logic. 'I often write to Gabrielle,' she told him. 'She misses me when I am away.' Fleur missed her baby sister too, but she would not share something as personal as her feelings for her sister with an acquaintance.
'It must be nice for her to hear from you,' Harry replied politely.
'I'm sure your family find it equally nice to hear from you,' Fleur responded amicably.
Harry laughed and she immediately realised what had been wrong with her absent minded statement.
'I'm sorry,' she apologised. The words sounded strange coming from her mouth. Fleur had not said them sincerely to anyone in a long time.
'Don't worry,' he shook his head. 'It's actually almost refreshing to have somebody forget.'
'They stare,' Fleur murmured.
'Yes, they do,' Harry said with a little irritation. For a brief moment his eyes seemed a lot older than his fourteen years, then his face slid smoothly into calm countenance. It was as much a lie as the stunningly bright smile she had occasionally seen him flash when he wanted to charm someone. His bright, but empty smile reminded Fleur of the soft one of her own that she wore to let the world know it could not touch her.
Sometimes a smile is the simplest lie. It was not the first time Fleur had thought that. The phrase had been in her head since her fourth year at Beauxbatons.
It was something of a relief to Fleur that he seemed to hate the stares almost as much as she did. She wasn't quite sure why, but she was glad that something about him was similar enough to her to make sense, even if their reactions had been at opposite ends of the spectrum. Fleur had chosen to eclipse and ignore all her former friends, proving them wrong, whereas he had decided to vanish from sight and shut out everything but his own goals.
'Madame Maxime told me about your task,' she began, eager to see a little more of the boy that had captured her curiosity so thoroughly.
'What did she say?' Harry had been eyeing the door behind her, but now seemed curious enough to abandon thoughts of escape. Fleur shifted further in front of the entrance regardless; she wasn't going to let a chance to see what was so different about him slip so easily.
'She said you cheated by bringing the model dragon in and that if you had summoned it you might have got full marks.' It bruised her pride to all but admit he could have bested her in the task.
For a brief second Fleur glimpsed a spark of anger in his eyes, then it disappeared as he shook his head.
'I forgot about the wands only rule,' he confessed. 'How stupid of me.'
'You still came second,' Fleur reminded him. She did agree that it had been stupid, but his mistake had left her first, so she wouldn't encourage him too much. He might prove a serious rival if she did.
'Second is not first, is it?' He gave her an amused look.
'No,' she admitted. 'You intend to try and win.' It was not a question, the desire in his eyes was clear.
Perhaps he did put his name in after all.
'Winning will prove that I am stronger than I used to be,' he explained. There was enough conviction in his tone that Fleur knew she had indeed found a third rival in the tournament.
'You are fourteen,' she reminded him in surprise at his ambition.
He didn't like that. Harry's eyes narrowed and went hard. Fleur cursed internally at wasting a chance to learn more about him.
'When I win I will let you read my name off the Triwizard Cup.' He seemed to take a delight in repeating her own prideful words back to her. 'I guarantee it will not say my age,' he finished coldly.
Just like that the wizard she had been speaking to in almost amicable terms had gone and in his place was the personified form of infuriating disinterest. Harry Potter's eyes swept over her as if she were just another part of the room.
Fleur grit her teeth at his sudden dismissal of her and prepared a vitriolic response of her own, but Harry brushed past her before she could retort. Fleur was left to listen to the sound of his footsteps as they echoed down the tower.
She reassured herself that there would be other chances to see what was so special about the boy. He had spoken to her after she had been rude to him before the first task and he would speak to her again. He did not seem the sort to hold a grudge.
It was not as if she had learned nothing from their brief conversation. There had been enough emotion behind his words at time to let her begin to paint the picture of the wizard Harry Potter was.
The canvas of his character was a slightly disturbing thing. There was nothing unsettling about the boy himself, just the way that he seemed slightly unsure if he was really there. A lingering uncertainty about whether or not others could see him persisted around the edges of his smiles.
From that alone she gleaned that while their situations were somewhat similar, both Fleur the veela and The-Boy-Who-Lived drew the unwanted eyes and envy of those around them, what ever it was that had made Harry Potter so different was so deeply ingrained into his mind that it affected every aspect of him.
Fleur would be considering him as a serious rival for the Triwizard Tournament. There was every bit as much ambition, conviction and desire in his eyes when he spoke of winning as she had glimpsed in her own when she imagined herself holding the trophy before her mirror. Harry Potter would be doing his utmost to get his name engraved on the cup and she would be a fool to underestimate him.
Recasting her disillusionment spell she decided to take a detour back to the Beauxbatons' carriage. Walking through the centre of the school might get her discovered again and though only Madame Maxime and Harry Potter had been able to penetrate the cover of her charm it was not worth the risk of so many propositions from potential Yule Ball dates.
Instead of turning back towards the Great Hall she wandered round the edge of the quidditch pitch and looped back towards the temporary accommodation of her school.
The route was practically deserted. Fleur glimpsed only three people from under her disillusionment charm and she only recognised one. Ludo Bagman, one of the judges and the head of the department of magical sports was sitting in the bottom row of the stands talking quietly with a witch dressed in official ministry robes. She couldn't see Bagman's face, but his companion had a vacant, forgetful cast to it offset by a slight, sharp glint in her eyes. It was a gleam Fleur recognised from some of the more spiteful, rumour-spreading harpies amongst the other girls at Beauxbatons.
She gave the two of them a wide berth, not liking the look of the witch, and narrowly side-stepped the third person who appeared from nowhere in front of her.
The rat-faced wizard did not notice her, but Fleur certainly noticed him. He was unkempt, with darting, nervous eyes and smelt faintly of both stale food and dirt. She couldn't even begin to imagine what his role at the school could be. Another gamekeeper, or caretaker, perhaps. She had not come across the caretaker so far, and so couldn't know whether this was the infamously bad-tempered squib, Argus Filch, or another, but he fitted the image Fleur had in her head, despite the lack of a cat.
He did not join Ludo Bagman and the witch in the stands but scuttled rather swiftly into the shadows of the red and gold painted section. Fleur did not see him emerge again in any of her cautious backwards glances towards the pitch. She was fairly glad of that. The short, unkempt wizard had held a slightly unusual aura about him. He had seemed almost furtive and wary.
After seeing him Hogwarts' quidditch pitch seemed rather more eerie than before. Every shadow held a hundred dark creatures, the posts jutted into the sky like the ominous, towering spires of Nurmengard she had seen in the pictures from old papers as a girl.
Fleur shivered, then frowned at her own fear. She was a Triwizard champion, one of the best witches of her generation, there was nothing for her to fear in the umbrae of Hogwarts.
Of course telling herself that was not enough to give her the confidence to stop glancing into every pool of darkness between the pitch and the carriage and Fleur was more than a little glad nobody had seen her moment of weakness.
AN: Please read and review, or at least try, there might be another power outage...
