Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
Another chapter!
However, as you guys all seem to appreciate my speed, I feel I should warn you that it is possible it might slow a little. I write fast, I can do one of these chapters in handful of hours, plus a bit longer to check, but the amount of free time I have is about to decrease. Between finishing my maths degree, finding a job, my decision to do a second part-time natural science degree (just for fun) and just the general progression of life from student to burdened, tax-paying adult, I have a lot of things to do. Not to mention the football season has started again, that's 90 minutes of pain and disappointment a week that I can channel straight into writing ;)
Chapter 19
The golden egg sat obstinately on the floor of the bathroom. Nothing Fleur did seemed to affect it. The horrible screeching persisted every time she opened the egg, no matter what enchantment she cast. She had come to quite hate the thing.
Moodily she poked it with the tip of her wand. It rocked a little then returned to its spot on the floor. She hoped that the other champions were having as little success as she was.
The clue was not easy to decipher and Fleur was tempted to try and find out how far the other champions had progressed again. Over the last few days, as her hope at succeeding with the egg began to diminish, she had kept an ear out when she snuck around the school under her disillusionment charm. Specifically she had been listening out for hints that any of the others had met with success.
Fleur had not been met with great success. She'd learned a lot of interesting things, but few had been about the Triwizard tournament. Ludo Bagman, someone who in her opinion should not have been anywhere near the organising process for the tournament, had been talking about how fascinating the Black Lake was and all the creatures it contained with a two quidditch playing girls dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor house. The man was not particularly intelligent and she had read, in one of Rita Skeeter's articles, that he had owed a lot of money to the goblins until very recently.
Madame Maxime had suggested that Karkaroff was assisting Krum with his strategies, but she was not sure if that extended to figuring out the egg and as her rival kept mainly to himself she had no clues as to how he had progressed.
Fleur had seen him and many of the other Durmstrang students diving into the Black Lake, but it seemed only to be for recreation and Fleur had better things to do than ogle them with the rest of the Beauxbatons' students.
Cedric Diggory on the other hand seemed to already know the answer. She had heard a group of Ravenclaw girls gossiping about how smart he was when she had joined the table for lunch. The three girls had seemed more taken with his looks than his intellect, but it was concerning that another champion might have figured it out. There was always the possibility that Diggory was lying and judging by his performance in the first task Fleur refused to discount that. Her pride might have had a little do with it as well.
The most interesting thing she had learned had been about Harry Potter. His progress towards the second task still remained a mystery to her, but in one of her frequent library visits she had over heard Hermione, the bushy-haired girl who was often in the library, and Ron, her red-headed friend, discussing her rival.
They seemed to be under the impression he might be under the influence of another wizard because of his sudden behaviour change. Fleur found their wild theories of love potions, Imperius curses and enslavement to Bulgarian veela laughable. Harry Potter's behaviour was not something that had just suddenly manifested, if they had not noticed it or he had hidden it then it might seem new, but it was obviously the result of something chronic.
The pair had held many wild speculations about what he was doing, but Fleur ignored most of them. The fact that they thought a simple thing like an invisibility cloak was capable of tricking an age line or the goblet was evidence enough that they really didn't know what they were talking about when it came to enchantments or enchanted items. Invisibility cloaks were expensive, but little more than disillusioned apparel, and the disillusionment charm that both she and Harry were familiar with, was not capable of tricking a age line.
Fleur had almost stopped listening to them when she finally overhears something much more interesting. Harry Potter's first wand had been broken by Hermione when she tried to use a spell she was not adept at to stop him reaching it in the middle of a fight between him and Ron. It had been the last time Hermione had spoken to him, though she still professed to be his friend, unlike Ron, because he never came to either the common room or the dormitories of Gryffindor Tower.
The idea that Harry Potter now had his own room, just as Fleur did, intrigued her. They were not dissimilar, Fleur had seen more than enough similarities between them to make her pity the boy, but they had always acted differently. Harry vanished where she decided to stand out. That they both had made the same choice in the same situation at roughly the same made Fleur wonder if by the time he was seventeen he would be even more like her. He would be powerful and talented enough to rival her properly at that age and would not doubt stand out as one of Hogwarts' best students.
The longer she thought about it the more parallels she was able to draw between the two of them and the greater her regret became at having been rude to him. It was possible, had they not gotten off on the wrong foot, that he might have been able to understand her and see more than just the veela, or the champion.
It would be nice to have someone to share my thoughts with.
Gabrielle was her little sister and there was nobody that Fleur loved more, but she was too young to understand some things, or to truly empathise with her older sibling. In a few years, once she had endured everything her elder sister had, she could be the perfect friend for Fleur, but four years was a long time.
Perhaps I should be more polite to him.
It would hardly require much effort on her part to test the waters and see if he was potentially more than just an acquaintance. If he was like her then the moment he realised their similarity he would, just as she had, be hopeful of finding a real friend that understood. It was a surprisingly attractive idea and the longer she imagined it the more attached to her hope she became.
An image of the two of them welled up from some corner of Fleur's mind that still retained some of the naive, wishful girl that she thought had long since been tempered into something stronger. It was a simple scene. Two friends, smiling, trusting and achieving great things together. There was no bright, blinding, empty charm radiating from his lips and no small, sham of aloof politeness fixed on hers. Fleur was shocked by how much she wanted the company of an equal, someone to stand who understood. Whether it was Harry or another hardly mattered, if he was capable of becoming half of her envisioning, she would endeavour to treat him as an equal in the making. Harry Potter would have to show that he knew she wasn't so beneath him first, though. Fleur would not deign to spend time with somebody who thought she was below their notice, famous or not, that was not how equals behaved towards one another.
There were many things that she had to deal with first. The Yule Ball was approaching and she needed to find a suitable date. A wizard who was not going to be lost in her allure all night and capable of paying attention to her. Fleur wasn't particularly hopeful of finding anyone and intended only to stay as long as had to or as long as she was enjoying herself. The former was likely to be much longer than the latter. Primarily, of course, her attention needed to be focused on the golden egg in front of her. How she hated the thing. If Fleur was allowed to keep it after the task she was half-tempted to destroy the frustrating object.
The most annoying part was that she was not sure at all what deciphering the egg entailed. It was incredibly difficult to solve such a vague problem. She had tried revealing anything written on the outside, even throwing it into the fire in the hopes that it might reveal something. It hadn't. The egg had screamed just as loudly as before.
She was starting to wonder if the screaming itself was the clue, rather than just a noise to indicate failure. It might change to something recognisable if she cast a charm or altered the egg's surroundings, or the next task might be to defeat something that screamed just as unbearably as the egg did.
Madame Maxime might know of any such creatures.
Fleur found her headmistress sitting in the communal area, a place Fleur normally avoided at all costs, drinking coffee from fine, white china mug. Fortunately there were no others in the area, probably as a direct result of the presence of their headmistress. If she knew of half the things that her students got up to once they came of age, or, in the case of many, once they came close to it, she would be both shocked and appalled.
'Madame Maxime,' she began, hoping her headmistress would not construe this as cheating, or, if she did, that she'd be as uncaring as she was about the actions of Harry Potter.
'Yes, Fleur?' She set down her mug of coffee and turned all her attention to Beauxbatons' foremost student.
'I was wondering if you knew if any creatures that emit such screams as the egg?' Fleur patted the golden object gently as if it were precious to her. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Madame Maxime smiled. 'I'm afraid I cannot say,' she replied, 'but I would like to recommend you a book. I do not have it here, but Hogwarts' Library certainly will. It is called Magical Creatures of the Water and their Secrets.'
'Thank you,' Fleur said very gratefully. Her headmistress' help was the only chance she had at deciphering the egg, even though the task itself was not until after the Christmas Holidays.
Casting her disillusionment charm Fleur all but ran to the library. The other champions might have been given similar hints and then had the foresight to take the book out to prevent their rivals from taking the same route they did.
Hogwarts' Library was one place Fleur had to concede it bettered Beauxbatons. It was not as attractive and open, Beauxbatons had terraces and balconies surrounding its domed equivalent, but it was far larger and just as organised.
Fleur found the book she was searching for tucked away in the section for magical creatures.
Someone, she noticed, had taken out all of the books pertaining to veela and she rather hoped it was not related to her. Veela had their weaknesses just like any other and she didn't want her rivals to be able to exploit hers.
Flicking through the book she ignored the sections on Grindylows and other lower forms of magical life. None of them were capable of emitting more than growls and squeaks.
It was almost an hour of poring through the pages of the book before she came across a useful passage.
The singing of the Merpeople cannot be understood above water, Fleur read. Any attempts to hear their singing above the waves will only be met by a loud shrieking.
Fleur snapped the book shut. She had her answer. The egg needed to be underwater to be understood.
Saying a silent thank you to her headmistress and ending her concealing magic, she picked up the book and headed to the library exit.
It was with a slightly smug smile that she checked out the book. None of the others would learn the answer as she had.
Eager to finally decipher the clue she hurried back through the corridors towards the nearest bathroom. The sooner she discovered the clue the better.
Filling the sink furthest from the door with water and casting a charm to keep the bathroom locked she tapped her fingers impatiently along the length of her wand. She was so close to finding out what came next, waiting was unbearable.
The instant the sink was full enough to completely contain the egg she opened it and dropped it in. The screaming cut out instantly and Fleur could just make out the sound of singing from the basin.
It was not loud enough to hear, regardless of how close to the water she put her ear.
Sighing she swept her silver hair over her right shoulder and gingerly dipped her ear into the water.
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this;
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Fleur did not like the sound of any of it.
The first line alone was enough for concern. Merpeople could only be heard underwater and that meant the second task would be taking place there. As a veela she was weakened in such an environment. It was not a drastic reaction, but her magic would be sluggish in the cold, and less powerful in the wet, just as it was ever so slightly quicker and stronger in the hot and dry. There wan nothing she could do about her natural aversion to the wet and the cold. Hopefully it would not be noticeable to the judges.
The rest of the song was every bit as worrying. It was obvious that the Merpeople would either be given or would take something precious to her. Fleur did not really consider many things as particularly precious, but those she did she was very attached to.
Sorely miss will not do it justice.
Fortunately the majority of the things she loved were with her and as of yet untouched by any other. The first thing she would do when she returned to her room in the carriage was make sure they could not be removed by anyone except her. Fleur imagined they needed something, but after failing to find anything of clear value would settle for something less important. If she did fail to recover what was taken, it would only be a disaster in one dimension.
That just left finding a way to survive underwater for an hour.
Fleur knew of several ways that this could be achieved. The most obvious, but also the most difficult was self-transfiguration. She was better than most at transfiguration, but averse to the idea. Veela already had two natural forms and a transformation they could undertake, if self-transfiguring went badly the attempts to return her to her original form might well not work. There were plenty of stories of failed veela animagi who had to live with feathers permanently because the magic used to reverse their transfiguration attempts could not distinguish between the human and creature forms of a veela.
She would be opting for a more simple, elegant approach. The bubble-head charm could be held for an hour with ease, but it left her vulnerable. If anything burst the bubble she would not be able to recast it underwater without an air source. Some adaptation of the charm or a contingency plan was needed as it seemed unlikely the Merpeople would just give back what they had once she found them.
Pulling the plug on the sink she retrieved the book on water creatures and her egg, shaking the worst of the water from it, then tucking it under her arm. There was nobody outside the bathroom when she undid her locking charm and exited, but the handle had been tried enough times for it be considerably loser than before. Fleur hoped that the girls who had come here had had the sense to give up and find another toilet before they wet themselves. There were plenty within a few minutes walk of here.
She began to make her way back towards Beauxbatons' carriage, following the corridor down to the stairs that led her to the Great Hall.
As she walked she considered what she knew of the bubble-head charm. It trapped a considerable amount of compressed air within a bubble around the nose and mouth of the caster and allowed breathing underwater or in areas of high altitude. Fleur knew that the more magic she put into the spell the larger the bubble and the more air she would have to breathe, but she knew of no way of protecting the bubble itself. If it was burst she would have to have a contingency plan. To recast the spell would require a considerable amount of air, something she was not willing to rely on being able to find once the task started.
Perhaps I can take the air with me.
A container of some sort, a bag, or a box or air that was large enough to contain enough air for an hour underwater could be shrunk, as long as it was airtight, and summoned to take with her once the task had started. Fleur would not be making the same mistake that Harry Potter had in forgetting he could simply summon what he needed to assist him and trying to take it in as well as his wand.
'Miss Delacour,' a smooth baritone voice came from behind her only moments after she had passed through the entrance to the Great Hall. She instantly knew from the tone what this would be about.
The Yule Ball. I should have disillusioned myself again.
Fleur turned slowly, taking in the slightly glazed eyes and hopeful faces of over fifty students, wishing very much she had not been so caught up in her solution to the second task that she forgotten to conceal herself.
I hate this, she cursed. Stupid, passive veela magic.
'Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?' The young wizard who asked was a lean, but unattractive young man. He would be only the first of many that Fleur would have to refuse if she couldn't quickly continue on her way.
'Sorry,' she answered, smiling politely as she knew should, 'but no.'
The hope blossomed afresh on the faces of all the boys around her. Fleur resisted the sudden urge to transform and burn them all to a crisp. Half of them were in their early teens and couldn't be more than first or second years.
'Miss Delacour, my name is Roger Davies, I was hoping you would let me accompany you to the Ball?' It was a far better phrased attempt to get her to be his date than most others she had heard. Fleur felt it at least deserved an answer rather than falling ignored as she walked away.
Roger Davies was dark-haired, blue-eyed and a little taller than she was. A neat, earnest and kind appearing individual whose eyes were not glazed like those of the students around him. He was not unattractive. There was a noble, angular quality to his face, an impression given off by his brightly coloured eyes, high cheekbones and strong, confident jawline. It was a face of obvious pure-blood heritage.
The faces' hope dimmed, even the girls seemed upset, clearly they expected her to say yes to Roger Davies. Dismay rose in the eyes of every student in the hall save one.
Harry Potter entered the hall from the far side, hand in hand with the same girl who had passed her the Bouillabaisse when she had first arrived. He seemed utterly oblivious to Fleur and her dilemma. It was infuriating. She had earlier extended so far as to consider him a kindred spirit and future equal and here he was mocking her with his lack of notice again.
Her mood flipped completely.
Roger would have proved passable company if he could at least resist a little of her allure, but his face bore a slight resemblance to Harry Potter's in its angular nature, though the fourteen year old had not yet fully lost the baby fat from his cheeks. The Potters were another old pure-blood family if she remembered correctly. Fleur was not in a good mood and felt like being cruel. She could not reach Harry without bringing trouble upon herself, but she could reach Roger Davies who bore enough of a passing resemblance to the source of her temper to make her feel vindicated in her viciousness.
'No,' Fleur repeated, still looking at Harry and the girl, 'I'm afraid you may not.'
In the silence that followed her refusal of the Hogwarts student came quiet, but obvious laughter. Harry Potter clearly found her predicament amusing.
Fleur's anger reach new, previously unknown heights at the reaction of her rival. He knew that they stared and had seen the lengths to which she went to avoid being noticed. Harry was a kindred spirit of sorts. He was supposed to be able to understand.
Harry Potter, of all people, should know better than to laugh.
It would not stand. Angry tears threatened to rise in her eyes at his betrayal of her hope, her envisioning crumbling away. The wizard, her comprehending equal, alongside her faded until Fleur stood alone once more. She blinked the tears stubbornly away, fixing her polite smile firmly upon her lips. Fleur Delacour did not cry, but she would happily seek vengeance for slighting her dream.
With no desire but to see him humiliate himself before the girl whose hand he held she unleashed a torrent of her allure in his direction. It was not everything she could control, but it would be enough to turn even the most resistant men Fleur had encountered into a drooling, doddering wreck.
As her charm travelled across the hall it captured every male in its path. They were left enthralled, staring at her with vacant, empty eyes, lost completely in the rapture of her allure. Roger Davies was no exception.
It was obvious what she had done, every girl in the hall was staring at her in anger or disbelief. Madame Maxime would be furious, but Fleur could not bring herself to care. All she wanted was for Harry to understand how wrong of him it was to laugh at her and how angry she was with him. It would be best if he did that by coming to beg her to be his date for the Yule Ball in front of the girl he seemed so close to. Then he'd understand how it felt to have the hope of a dream torn away. Fleur would feel they were even again after that.
He didn't notice. Harry's only reaction was to throw a puzzled glance around the room, shrug and smile before turning back to the girl at his side.
It cut the wind from the sails of Fleur's anger and for a second she just stared at the couple in shock.
He cannot possibly have not felt that.
Yet Harry still seemed oblivious to what she had done. The girl he was with, however, was staring at her in apoplectic rage. The fingers of the hand that was not in Harry's had clenched into a fist so tight her knuckles had turned white and was inching towards her wand with deliberate malice.
It was then that Fleur realised she had just done what every Beauxbatons girl had accused her of. She had deliberately used her allure in an attempt to charm another girl's boyfriend. It did not matter that her intent had been to humiliate him rather than steal him, or why Fleur had tried it, she done it all the same and everyone would know.
The girl started towards her in clear, righteous anger, but Harry caught her arm and whispered something to her before she could cause a scene. The two of them began whispering to each other very quietly, with Harry gesturing confusedly at the hall and people around them.
Even now he does not notice, does not realise.
It was too much. Nothing would give him a glimpse of the realisation she had had. His potential to be her equal would fade as unnoticeable as she seemed to be to him.
Fleur took the opportunity to turn away and leave before things grew worse. Her guilt was not strong enough to force her to apologise, even if she knew she should, her pride was seriously smarting from validating the rumours she had believed herself above for so long, but the image that had somehow become dear to her slipping further out of reach hurt most. A weaker Fleur, a younger Fleur, would have cried, but she had grown stronger in the time she had spent alone.
As she strode, head held high, still smiling stiffly, from the hall, she glimpsed Harry and his girl locked in an argument of increasingly furious whispers.
AN: Please read and review, thanks to those that do! (I like that, it rhymed) I do apologise for this being a tad shorter than usual and if anyone has any better ideas of how to format the song please PM me or include it in a review. I don't really like how it is set out at the moment, it's offending my sense of right and wrong, but I have no alternatives.
