Fleur tossed her hair back over her shoulder with a light, scared laugh, resounding in the air like bells. She stood tall, undaunted by the fact that she had been eliminated from the Second Task.
Letting out another ironic laugh, she said, "Are…are you joking? Ze ees to young to stay under water for long. You cannot be zerious!"
"If no one retrieves her by the time the other champions have surfaced, the merpeople will save her," Dumbledore assured the girl in a soothing voice.
"Zat is not fair!" Fleur cried, stomping her foot against the hard ground of the pier. "Ze should not have to zuffer because of me!"
Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder, bending over to look down his long, crooked nose at her. "She does not even know that she is there. She agreed to this, and knows full well what is going on. She is in a condition that lets her breath under the water, and therefore saves her from any suffering. Calm down, Ms. Delacour. She will be all right. The chieftain of the merpeople has promised to not let the Grindylows attack Gabrielle."
Fleur looked into the old man's blue eyes, anger and fear burning in her own. She wrapped her towel tighter around her shoulders, turning to the edge of the docks. "Then I will wait here for her," she declared resolutely as she sat herself on the damp wooden ground at the edge of the dock where she had been pulled up.
Dumbledore looked at her in sympathy. "I am sorry," he said quietly, "but it's part of the tournament's rules. No hostages can be released until all of the champions have surfaced, successful or not."
"Zat is a stupid rule," the Beauxbatons Champion muttered. "Rules are meant to be broken, are zey not?"
"These rules are here for safety, and therefore must be kept."
Fleur drew her legs up to her chest, resting her head on her knees. "I am sorry, sister," she said gently, her voice forlorn. "I could not zave you. I am a failure." She let her head fall to the side, a tear glistening in her eye. "I do not deserve you as a little sister. I am horrible at this. A failure of an older sister."
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and her head to spring up. "You are not a failure, Ms. Delacour," said the soft voice of Dumbledore. "That is why the Goblet chose you to participate. Many here would not even have been able to figure out a way to get underwater far enough to even attempt the task. You did valiantly. You fought bravely against the Grindylows. Very few would have put up such a struggle. I admire your strength, Fleur. So do all the students of Beauxbatons, and many of those from Durmstrang and Hogwarts. You are their Champion, and for a very good reason."
The girl looked at the old, wizened man. "Is zis true?" she asked shakily. Dumbledore nodded. "Then I am happy to have even gotten zis far." She stood up, looking out into the depths of the Black Lake. Dumbledore straightened besides her, placing a hand on her shoulder in consoling support.
"Thank you, Monsieur," she said, staring the wizard in the eyes. "You are kind to me, even though I am not your Champion to support."
"You are everyone's champion," Dumbledore answered. "That's what the Tournament is about though, isn't it? Magical cooperation between those of different countries, making friends, and so on and so forth." Dumbledore smiled at the girl, redirecting his gaze to the lake.
"It shouldn't be long now until someone comes up."