Thanks to all my Beta readers, who once again worked wonders: DJKopper, gamer0890, Proctorb_32, x102reddragon, Thanos, DarknessEnthroned.
Chapter 5 - Bragging Rights
"Snape is still our teacher," Hermione complained.
Fred lunged forward, his beak of a nose landed a glancing blow off George's cheek. Laughter erupted around them.
"He's been much worse to any of us than this," Harry replied.
George swept his lanky greasy hair away from his eyes, and thrust his nose right back at Fred.
"Yes, but Harry, that doesn't make this alright."
"It's only a slight change."
Fred's nose knocked over a glass a few seats from him. They scrambled to clear up the spilled juice, each using the vile hair Snape had made his own. Lee Jordan wiped tears from his eyes.
Hermione frowned at him, her brows drawn down in a stern echo of Professor McGonagall.
Harry shrugged, "I see no difference." It only took her a second to make the link, and her hand shot to her mouth as her eyes narrowed. "Sorry, you didn't deserve to be reminded of that."
"No, you're right. I guess it is a pretty good glamour charm," she conceded. "Very high level spell that."
Harry dared a glance at the head table, but Professor Snape was engrossed in a conversation with Professor Moody. Harry shuddered. Harry wasn't sure which teacher unsettled him more, Snape with his snide derision, or Moody with his keen interest and wonky eye.
Since the moment he'd solved his clue, Professor Moody had reignited his efforts in helping him prepare, which amounted to blasting him with water — every single night. For all the good Moody's barked orders and drenchings did, he was beginning to think he might have to blindfold himself during their sessions, really pull out all the stops.
Many a night Harry left Moody's office soaked to the bone with soggy shoes, but on the upside, his drying charm was coming along quite nicely. Moody refused to do it for him. A bit more work and he might just be able to dry up the Great Lake. At least then he wouldn't need to worry about the bubble head charm.
He had a few weeks to go, even with Christmas only a few days away — and the Yule Ball too.
Fleur had visited him at the Gryffindor table once since; she drew all eyes of course, but she simply wanted to talk with him. She had probed about his interests, remembering his comments about the owlery and gobstones, she had refused to play him; claiming the game wasn't for her.
He had never managed to get anything out of Fleur about her interests, she hadn't admitted to a single hobby. She must just want to find out about him, get to know him better.
Harry scanned the other students until he found a head of silver hair. Fleur sat with her friends, their eyes met, and her smile took his breath away. One of her friends nudged her, and they set about giggling. He took a bite of his breakfast, and for some reason the bacon and eggs tasted better than normal.
Another round of laughter reminded him of what was going on, he watched the twins duel with the most outrageously long noses Harry had ever seen. There was no chance that none of the teachers had seen this, but no one made a complaint. If Snape had seen he would have swept down demanding blood, no doubt eager to draw it himself.
Cormac McLaggen sidled up to Harry, a boastful grin in full force. "Harry, the club and I have been arranging a friendly tournament between the schools. If you've not had your fill of tournaments, you should sign up."
Harry felt his stomach shrink. He'd neglected the gobstones club since the Triwizard Tournament began. He opened his mouth to apologise.
"Don't worry about it, Harry. Montague's not annoyed, she understands. Anyway, you've got a bye into the quarter-finals if you want to join in."
"I'd love to, when is it?"
"Today…" The git at least had the decency to give an embarrassed laugh.
Harry wouldn't have missed this for the world, excepting Cormac not telling him about it.
"The clubroom?" he asked.
"Yeah, come by at midday unless you want to sit around waiting."
Harry nodded and McLaggen moved away to his friends further down. It had been one of Harry's least pompous interactions with him, though that wasn't saying much — Cormac rivalled Lockhart for hauntyness. Still, his feet itched to be on their way to the clubroom, he was already thinking of ways to play.
He wondered if he should use his newest made gobstone, since he had never played with it, but he was used to using some more wild and erratic gobstones. And if the students from the other schools weren't prepared he might score a few wins off that alone.
Hermione smiled at him, she had been listening in of course, but Harry knew better than to ask her if she would come along. There was little more she hated than the constant clacking and crashing of gobstones, or the excited murmurs. No, the clubroom wasn't peaceful enough for Hermione.
Breakfast passed in a blur, and his feet carried him to the clubroom, gobstones in hand, singed bag and all.
A few people were there when he arrived, Sally Montague stood with a pair of Durmstrang students; they shared plenty of gestures and little words. Harry sat alongside the outer wall, where he could see the four boards in the centre of the room each with comfortable chairs to sit on while playing. There wasn't much demand for the benches, few people cared enough to watch, and even fewer stuck around after being eliminated early; which naturally meant they missed Harry's best games. No wonder they didn't enjoy the game.
Harry knew he was an anomaly, he didn't know when it happened, but from the first sight of gobstones he had been hooked. The gentle clatter of their collisions, which burst into a dazzling mix of fireworks and glass only to settle down into a peaceful board again.
Gobstones had been the first magic thing he'd found delight in, other than Hedwig. Flying was alright, but it couldn't compare.
Montague sat down next to him, her polite smile and soft eyes were always part of the clubroom. She was hardly the best player, but she demanded fairness and equal opportunity for all, and for that she was given captaincy of the club. Harry returned her smile.
"Glad Cormac remembered to invite you, he's been forgetting recently," She tittered, drawing a few eyes. "He thought if you weren't here he might have a chance."
"He isn't that bad, just a little envious."
"We have four Durmstrang students joining us, and two from Beauxbatons, almost twenty all in all," Montague said, her face pink. "I've asked Professor Flitwick for a few house elves to provide some refreshments, trying to get a few other students in too. Not many want to watch, but one of the Durmstrang students is Krum's friend, if he shows up…"
A hungry look entered her eyes, not the same as Ron often wore around Krum, nor perhaps Katie. This was the look of a dragon watching her nest grow. The threat was clear in the air — no messing up today.
Harry never really argued with others, they just had a habit of being upset when they lost to him. At least he certainly never rubbed it in.
He nodded anyway, as though he could do anything about it. Montague took it well enough, she patted him on the back and rushed off to greet some newcomers.
It didn't take long for the first few games to be underway. Harry could tell that a few players weren't really players, but just here for the ride. One of the Durmstrang boys lost in the first round and forgot his gobstones next to the board. Harry's suspicions were confirmed when the loser threw his pouch of gobstones to a tall sharp-faced boy.
A few spectators were milling around the outside, all had some work books to fill in the downtime, though there wasn't much. Other than the time taken to set the board up and snacking.
A large table sagged under the weight of platters of fresh food and large pitchers of juice — the house elves had outdone themselves. Everyone had taken the time to peruse the table, Harry included; from chocolate-covered pastry to a vegetable and dumpling stew, it all looked sublime. The smells permeated the room, and the gentle rhythm of gobstones sang to him.
"Harry was quick to notice a pair of threats though, among the visiting competitors.
There was a tall thin boy from Beauxbatons whose fingers clasped the gobstones with an odd and unfamiliar grasp. At first glance, it appeared as if he hadn't been playing for long, but if that were the case Harry would eat his invisibility cloak. Some of the throws he had seen from the boy were masterful, one throw had knocked three different gobstones out of the ring in one go.
The other was the very same tall sharp-faced boy from Durmstrang who'd evidently been lending out gobstones. With him, each toss was precise and deadly. He had taken care of some of the usual club-goers without much trouble at all, Harry still hadn't seen him crack a real smile.
It wasn't until Cormac was knocked out by the Beauxbatons boy that Harry started to get really excited. Cormac, whilst being a bit of a blow-hard, was more than competent at gobstones, Harry had only just beaten him in last year's final.
He could taste the faint electric tang in the air, each clatter of the gobstones drew him closer to a real opponent, and for once only his pride was on the line. Not his life. Montague won her game putting her in the quarter finals, along with Harry and the two boys he had been watching.
Another Beauxbatons student was losing her game, not by much, if she made the right play she should manage to scrape a win. Her dark skinned fingers twitched as she clasped the gobstone, hesitation clear in her movements.
The centre of the board was a mess, almost all of the points for each player were collected in the middle, and she had the last throw. Harry could see the play, she only needed to shift a few gobstones and there were plenty in the outer rings, any disruption in the centre ring could be a disaster.
Her throw was hard, deliberate, and right at the centre. Harry groaned. It was such an unnecessary risk, the cluster of gobstones could do just about anything. He was on the edge of his bench peering at the board when something incredible happened.
Each of the girl's stones clustered together, like magnets, pushing the other players' stones out of the centre. Achieving a respectable victory, perhaps not a dominant one, but still a victory. Harry clapped along with the other spectators, already planning for a potential game against the girl.
These were players with skill, not just luck, and certainly not some amateurs. They were like him.
Harry walked over to Montague, who was instructing a sixth year Hufflepuff on how to draw names for the quarter finals, he congratulated her once she had a spare second. Not many would consider her pretty, her face was too severe for that, but in that moment with her face flushed from emotion and her eyes alight with joy, Harry reconsidered. She spun to look around, her grin spread further; it risked splitting her face.
He copied her, and blinked. If he had to guess, there were at least fifty people in the clubroom. By far the most that had ever been here, at least in his time at Hogwarts. Harry noticed the surly face of Viktor Krum at the edge of the room, and a few other Hogwarts students. There were only a few Beauxbatons students.
After a short wait for the last pair of games to conclude, the brackets were drawn. Harry was matched against the Beauxbatons girl. He couldn't have been happier with the outcome. If he won, he would be against either the Beauxbatons boy, or Glenys Pritchard, a Slytherin seventh year.
Harry walked over to his board, the one closest to the door, and settled down waiting for his opponent. He lined up his preferred gobstones along the board, each one eager to be used, he had been impatient to get to playing and now he wanted nothing more than to play.
Unfortunately, his opponent didn't share his eagerness.
Fleur lounged on her bed, her head was propped up by a healthy amount of pillows, and she perused an essay on advanced atmospheric charms. It was a dull read, but if there was a single useful thought or spell inside she would make use of it.
Just outside her window wind chimes rang, a small piece of home — even if the window had been frosted over for weeks.
Mikaela lay on the floor composing a letter to her newest crush, some windswept Gryffindor boy. She had talked about him plenty but somehow avoided mentioning his name. Fleur wanted to laugh at the poor girl, she had her wits tangled over a single kiss. Well, some kisses could do that.
She would have to test Harry's boundaries soon enough, he seemed eager but he acted shocked when she asked him a question. His reticence was worrying, whatever the cause she knew she would have to be slow and careful. Scaring him off would be a disaster. Likely for the both of them.
His performance in that first task had been the talk of the carriage for a few weeks; that a little boy could stand face to face with a dragon was absurd, and Fleur Delacour was going with him to the Yule Ball. Rumours had sprouted that maybe Harry Potter was a Veela in disguise, Fleur could imagine who had started that one.
Still, the Yule Ball was a much talked about subject, and with it being a week out everyone was scrambling for a date. Mikaela was basically set, but Evélia would need help, she never wanted to admit she was pretty. She thought people cared about her skin colour, some did of course, but those weren't worth the oxygen they stole. Any boy would be lucky to date Evélia. A little nudge, maybe a shove, might be the only way. She deserved this as much as the rest of them.
Fleur tried not to envy their casual joy in dancing, her own dancing wouldn't be silly or fun; it was captivating, powerful. She had been testing out her dancing with her friends, Mikaela would have shown the effects of her allure, but from simple steps there was nothing. That would have to be enough for now. It would be a shame to disappoint Harry so much, but she wouldn't allow herself to slip; not even a little.
Her door crashed open.
Evélia panted, her face flushed, "I have made it to the quarter finals, I'm up against your Potter. Come on."
Mikaela groaned but put away her parchment, Fleur chuckled and walked to the door.
"Breathe, Evélia, we are coming with you."
Evélia bounced as she strode the halls of Hogwarts, her near-run had made their journey much faster than Fleur would've preferred. She took a second to fix her robes and hair before stepping inside. The gobstones club room was precisely as Harry had described, beautiful. A trait, it seemed, Harry Potter had an eye for. Fleur couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.
The room was wrapped in a fine wooden finish, lacquer giving the aged wood a fresh look. Halfway up the walls were an assortment of silver and bronze candelabra, their age evident, but still prettier than most of Hogwarts. A pair of small windows barely gave enough light, so the candles weren't just for effect. Even crammed with another fifty or so students didn't detract from the charm of the room.
Harry had been right, the room was very modern — for Hogwarts. If she could show him the palace of Beauxbatons he might faint.
And there he was, sitting in a chair watching a nearby table play gobstones, the back of his messy hair clearer than any sign. As Evélia passed him to claim her seat he stood to shake her hand. Respect for his competition was a rare trait, but a noble one, she would have expected nothing less from him.
Gobstones had never interested her, she couldn't afford that, hobbies were for people with too much time on their hands. And this one seemed pointless, even a little silly. The glass beads were pretty, but nothing more.
Fleur looked around and found Viktor Krum, his eyes fixed on a different table while he discussed events with his friends. That wasn't the only familiar face; a few students who had accosted her, due to being a Veela, were crowded in a corner watching as Luc Bennet played.
Of course Luc was here. The self-satisfied prick swaggered around everywhere, and he was still bitter from her selection as Beauxbatons champion, not that he let it show; she just knew it. No one was that good, no one.
Harry and Evélia started playing, so Fleur took a seat behind Harry, not wanting to distract him. Even for Evélia's sake. She had seen him fiddling with those gobstones plenty, it would be interesting to see just what his fascination was.
A flash of purple whipped around the circular board and Fleur noticed a pair of gobstones clatter on the floor beside Evélia. Harry had done something clever by her stunned look. Fleur and Mikaela chuckled together, it was a rare sight; Evélia was a sore loser, but she didn't lose often.
A few clacks and clatters later, not to mention some flashes of light, and Harry stood offering Evélia his hand. It took her a few seconds to notice, her eyes were wide and unfocused.
Evélia joined them.
"What happened?" Mikaela probed.
"He beat me, with almost no effort…" she whispered.
"What do you mean?" Fleur asked, her interest peaking.
"He had a plan from the start, and he didn't let me play my game at all."
It meant nothing to Fleur, but to Evélia it clearly meant something. Harry Potter had shaken Evélia's confidence, and apparently easily at that. Fleur couldn't ignore the swoop her stomach gave, every step she was taking was perfect. The Tournament just needed a little better results and she would be well on her way.
Harry wandered over to the gathered winners, Luc Bennet among them, Fleur watched as the pair shook hands and chatted. Harry was a fair bit shorter, but still he met Luc's eyes with a fervour she had rarely seen. Today Harry was competing for joy, not need, and it showed. His handsome face was alight with his enthusiasm, and his bright green eyes danced with abandon.
He managed to make the often sought after Luc Bennet dim in his presence. The room seemed to watch that pair, everyone drawn to the Hogwarts champion.
"Fleur… you're drooling!"
"Shut up."
Harry sat down opposite Luc. The Frenchman was polite and had introduced himself instantly, though Harry was still wary. He was clearly a good player, and nothing he had seen so far would convince him otherwise.
His accent was rich, but his English was still excellent, not unlike Fleur's.
"I 'ear you are going to zhe Ball with Fleur," Luc said.
He picked up a solid white gobstone, without a hint of any other colour inside it. He tested it in his long fingers, but he didn't toss it, he just waited for Harry's reply.
"Yeah, I suppose I am."
Luc tossed his gobstone straight into the centre of the middle ring, a common opening, one Harry had many strategies to beat. But it would be the next few throws that determined his course.
"She is very excited, she never lets anything like zhat slip, and yet she did…"
Harry blinked at Luc, was he blabbing out of nerves? Or was he trying to put Harry off? Either way, Harry was focused on the game. This could well be his toughest match yet, he wasn't about to blow it thinking about Fleur Delacour.
He grabbed his yellow gobstone, and spun it as he threw it into the board, the middle ring; a bait. If Luc took that bait he would be creating his own worst nightmare.
"She's 'ere you know?" Luc mused. He nodded his head towards the back of the room. "Watching you play."
Harry couldn't resist, he turned his head and found Fleur instantly. She was perched on the bench like an eagle on high, her silver hair glowing in the candle lit room. Harry felt his stomach swoop when she gave him a warm smile. Her wave shouldn't have tied knots with his tongue, but it did.
He remembered himself when he heard a chuckle, the rich laugh victorious, Harry snatched up another gobstone. He had a game to play after all.
"Very funny," he said.
Luc threw his gobstone, it touched Harry's bait, leaving them stuck together, but it had also dragged both of them into the central ring. Harry wouldn't be able to knock the gobstone out without risking his own.
A clever move.
Harry toyed with a few gobstones, but he needed something that could cause some disruption; to lay in wait for later. He settled on one of his oldest gobstone, one that he had used plenty, and threw it as close to the others without touching as he could — when touched this gobstone liked to bounce around.
"You know what she is, non?" Luc asked, his eyebrow lifted. "A Veela."
Harry nodded, though all he wanted was for the boy to make his next move. He talked more than any of his usual opponents, and they mostly only talked about the game at hand. Not some silly dance a week away.
Luc almost placed his next gobstone; he applied backspin so that when it landed it stayed almost in place. On the outer ring. Hardly a common move, but one Harry would have made if he wanted to use it to clear out the centre later on. It was enough to give him pause.
Was it a bluff? Some kind of trick, playing on Harry's notions of how the game ought to be played, or was it a rather inelegant bait? Harry glanced up into Luc's eyes, the honey brown depths taunted him as a small grin lingered on his face.
He needed to play, and not overthink things.
Snatching up his violet gobstone he threw it into the ring, a blocker for whatever that odd gobstone was intended to do. He didn't need to destroy this opponent, he only needed to beat him.
Luc didn't frown, or show any sign he was annoyed. And yet, he decided to talk, "You know, I asked 'er to an evening ball once, she wasn't amused. You'd 'ave zhought I'd called 'er something 'orrible."
Harry blinked, the Beauxbatons boy was tall and handsome enough, his face suited his easy smile. Was he really trying to make him insecure? All over a game that Harry was going to win regardless. Such cheap taunts wouldn't get to him; after all, he intended to win. And nothing shut opponents up faster than losing.
Luc threw once more, and Harry snatched up another gobstone and set about to win the game.
After a few more throws Harry had made a dent in Luc's calm facade, his eye twitched slightly; a small victory but just a taste for now. They both had two gobstones left now, and the board was looking grim for his opponent. He only had twenty-two points as things stood, compared to Harry's thirty-three.
It wasn't over, Luc had proven to have plenty of tricks up his sleeve, but Harry had managed the game fairly well. He was expecting something, and despite trying to give off a casual vibe, it was clear that Luc knew what he was doing.
He watched Luc lift his penultimate gobstone. It seemed as if time had slowed, and the throw was precise. Right into the centre and sending two of Harry's gobstones to the middle ring. Bringing the score within two points in a single throw, but Harry just smiled, he had expected something much more brazen.
His own gobstone landed behind a sizable pile, all bunched up towards the edge of the middle, a low risk attempt to stop anything devious. Luc grinned. A flash of white teeth bared in almost a snarl, and Harry tried to reassess the board.
His gobstones weren't really at risk, and Luc's were too separated to do much.
The gobstone sailed through the air, it landed with a quiet thud, and the stone board rippled.
Stone shivered and shook. The area the gobstone had landed on seemed to fall away underneath it.
After only a few seconds the board had a huge divot in it, and second by second, Harry's gobstones were falling into it. If all of his gobstones from the centre fell in then he would lose eight points. If he didn't knock a few of Luc's gobstones out of the way he was doomed.
When the board stopped falling into itself, Harry looked over the damage; he only had a single gobstone in the centre ring, while not a single one of Luc's had fallen in. Leaving him five points behind.
His final gobstone was the newest gobstone in his collection, the red-black creation. He had put off using it, hoping for there to be a turn where he could throw without thought — it had never come.
Luc's gobstones were spread out all over the board, and the pile that had sunk into the board was impossible to make use of. There was a pair, so close to his only central gobstone that it seemed to mock him, a pair ripe for taking.
His earlier throw had managed to survive the onslaught untouched, neither had a clue what was about to happen. Harry lined up his throw, and released, right at his own gobstone.
The black fire gobstone crashed into it with a roar, and sparks flew as they collided. Harry's heart pounded as he stared, transfixed.
It crashed into it, and stopped moving at once. His other gobstone smashed into the nearby pair, and flew up and out of the ring. But Harry's heart didn't slow, not while Luc's gobstones still moved.
Each one was sent flying off in opposite directions, clattering and shifting previous positions. One collided with the sticky mess of gobstones in the middle ring, shifting it closer to the outer ring.
The other flew full speed into the gobstone played earlier in the outer ring. Harry watched as the two gobstones seemed to melt into each other, the glass bead quivered and came to a rest; without the other in sight.
Even if the gobstone still counted as a single point Harry had won, his final throw had lost Luc six points, and earned Harry not a single point.
A burst of foul liquid shot out and hit Luc in the face. There was a brief wait before Luc waved his wand and banished the gunk.
Luc stood, and thrust his hand out to Harry. Open and ready for a customary handshake, Harry took it.
"You played very well," he said.
"You too."
"I 'ad expected to win this, so if you don't go on to win it all, it'll make me look bad." He grinned, and Harry laughed, fairly sure Luc was kidding.
"I will, don't worry."
Luc's laugh rang around the room, did a few girls watching sigh? Harry didn't pay them any more mind, he wanted to talk about the game they had just played, but Luc had other plans.
"'Arry, a word of advice, when you take Miss Delacour to zhe ball, act zhe gentleman, she expects zhe best. And is more zhan willing to demand it." He laughed as if remembering something, or maybe enjoying his own wit. "A kiss on 'er 'and, a firm grip but not forcefully; be a gentleman but be yourself, anything less and she will bore. Enjoy your date."
Fleur watched as Harry and Luc chatted, as if they were bosom buddies; instead of recent rivals in a gobstones match. She would have given a great deal to learn what was said, Luc had grown out of his silly boyish phase fairly quickly, but still one wrong word and he could ruin everything for her; for them.
Evélia gushed about how well the both of them had played, Fleur had no real understanding of the game so she just took her word for it. Mikaela, however, had slipped off to go and chase down her Gryffindor friend; Fleur didn't mind, she had been awful company mooning over him all week.
Still, she hadn't envisioned this was how her day would be spent, lunch having passed an hour ago. It wasn't as though she was bored, watching Harry play gobstones was fun enough, but it was a change of pace.
The last time she had allowed herself to just relax and watch something was years ago for a big quidditch match at Beauxbatons, one that Luc had won for his team; though there was no win for him today. Harry had seen to that.
She could have kissed him for that, not many got one over on Luc Bennet.
Her blood ran cold as Luc turned away from Harry with a victorious smirk, their eyes met, and Fleur really wished she could have heard them. Luc stopped next to them, Evélia started blabbing about gobstones, but Fleur cut her off.
"What were you telling him?"
"Hello Delacour, lovely to see you too…" His features twisted, gone was the handsome man, and in his place stood a sneering boy. "Was just warning Potter what a date with you would mean."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she hissed.
A few nearby students were watching them, Fleur realised her tone probably sounded aggressive, even if she had reverted to her native French.
His smirk, a common adornment, as though he knew a secret, bloomed full on his face. And he walked out of the room, leaving Fleur glowering at the wood, if only she could burn it to the ground — Luc along with it.
"He really is too handsome," Evélia simpered. She, like most of the school, had a crush on Luc, not that it was unwarranted. Fleur just expected better.
Harry had moved over to the Durmstrang boy, they were chatting together. What could Luc have told Harry? It was hardly important, she had captured his attention and it would take more than words to shift that — but Luc could have done real damage. Harry didn't seem the type to judge based on what others said, he had implied that those situations had hurt him before.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Luc had done something awful, Luc wasn't a harsh or cruel boy. He had a stellar reputation which he had earned fully, but Fleur couldn't shake the thought from her mind.
Only then she noticed Viktor Krum was watching her, a small smile on his serious face — not an admiring smile, but not cold. She waved at him, and he took it as an invitation, slipping around the room with little grace or comfort. He seemed as uncomfortable on his feet as Fleur felt on a broom.
"Evélia, can you give us a second?" Fleur asked. Her use of French made Krum frown, no doubt he hadn't learned a word of it. Evélia rose and found a spot near one of her fellow competitors, her awkward English and naturally effervescent speech would have to do there.
Viktor Krum however had none of Evélia's issues, he could make a stone seem talkative. Still they watched as Harry and his opponent shook hands and sat facing the other, Harry toyed with his row of gobstones, either nervous or excited, Fleur couldn't tell.
"Roman has never struggled with gobstones, he has made a habit of winning, seeing Harry Potter play though…" Krum trailed off. Fleur nodded, Evélia was much the same, she spent a good amount of time playing and she won more often than not. Fleur hadn't watched many of her games, it was hard not to view it as wasted time.
However, watching Harry play felt different, like she was seeing some new side of him, one she hadn't expected but fit with that she knew all too well. He had stood tall and confident as a Champion, his name was known the world over, and he could hold his own in a game of strategy.
"This is my first time watching in years, a lot of it is lost on me," she admitted.
"I watch most of Roman's games, we grew up together, it's only right."
Fleur nodded, family was important to most, whether found or otherwise. She knew all too well of the burdens, if not the pride and joy; Gabrielle was the only person she truly loved, but even that was souring with time and school. Filled with tales of princes and gallant men, she was slowly being poisoned by stories.
A gasp rattled around them, Fleur craned her neck to see Harry, the people in front of her had stood up to get a better view of the board. She could just make out a smirk, the same he had worn when he had asked her for that dance — she had thought perhaps he was putting it on for affect, but perhaps he had some genuine confidence. That he had tried alone was endearing, it clearly wasn't something he would have done for just anyone.
Krum grunted, his sharp nose seemed to part the crowd for him. The people were packed into the small clubroom, Fleur couldn't count them, as heads bobbed and swayed, still it must have doubled since she had arrived. She recognised Harry's best friends near the food table, the tall ginger one was a head taller than most, it would be hard to miss that one in a crowd.
A buzz flowed through the watchers as glass clattered against glass, not nearly as many spectators as the Tournament had drawn, but this was Harry's game. Fleur knew enough to know that would make all the difference for Harry.
"He isn't what I was expecting," Viktor said.
Fleur nodded, her eyes found Harry, his hands were clasped in front of his face and a look of delighted strain adorned his face.
"None of you are what I expected, 'Arry carries 'imself like a real Champion, despite being fourteen. Cedric isn't in the least intimidated, despite being against 'Arry and yourself. And you, you 'ave a brain."
Viktor chuckled, his eyes flashed with some victorious gleam.
"I saw some of those French newspapers, not very complementary to a team that thrashed their own."
"I 'ad 'eard, that it was all down to a single player…"
"My team did their part," Viktor said, firm as could be. Fleur nodded, a loyal man Viktor Krum, it would be easy for a star player to hold himself above the rest. And still it fit with what she knew of him, if only she could find some advantage over her competition — cheers burst around her, Harry stood amidst the crowd arms aloft, and a beatific smile on his youthful face.
Their eyes met briefly and Fleur couldn't help the delight that sparked when he flushed, she applauded loudly, and the breeze she created felt nice in the warm chamber. Viktor slipped past her and went to console his friend, Fleur meanwhile watched Harry bathe in the glory of his moment.
She doubted he would get another one soon, not if she had her way, and she would.