Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 12 - The Static in My Mind

Fleur reluctantly disentangled herself from a sleeping Harry, sliding out from beneath the silky sheets. As loathed as she was to leave him, she did not want to test Madam Pomfrey's patience any further. She knew she would see her again eventually, one way or the other knowing what Harry got up to. It was a grim thought, but at least Fleur had learnt her name. She suspected the nurse had a soft spot for him.

She was still riding the high of what had occurred earlier. It'd been a terrifying thing to admit. There was no regret for what she'd done - she wanted him to be ready and fully understand it before he said anything to her. Harry was still rather young - most boys his age were only just beginning to think of the opposite gender in that way. Her earlier euphoric feeling was muted - a product of their earlier conversation. She was optimistic about the future, however. His emotional maturity and reciprocity put into words what he couldn't yet.

Now, as Fleur carefully stepped towards the hospital wing door and swung it open, she was mentally preparing herself for the inevitable conversation with her parents.

Whilst the thought hadn't occurred to her previously, she had probably understated her attachment to Harry before. They'd been less surprised than she'd thought they would be. Her parents would also likely want to start finding solutions for him, seeing as her father was beyond grateful that Harry had helped her at such a cost to himself at the World Cup. They weren't even sure what the 'full cost' would end up being.

Her steps, now more deliberate as she left the corridor leading to the hospital wing, echoed down the halls of the castle. Trying to take her mind off the worry she felt, Fleur tried to remember the way back to the entrance hall.

She'd never really given the castle itself much thought, but the masonry, though cruder than Beauxbatons, had a certain charm to it that Fleur couldn't quite place. The polished stone floors had a slightly marbled look to them, and the tall ceilings throughout enhanced the castle's overall grandeur. Wall-mounted candles sent an orange glow bouncing down the corridor, its reflection on the floor bright enough to make her look away.

It would've been a great place for Harry to learn magic if he'd had the people to support him, and didn't somehow risk his life on an annual basis. The bitter thought flushed any admiration she'd had. Fleur wasn't sure what her family would, or even could do.

A cool breeze enveloped her as she exited the castle, leaving through the entrance hall. She shivered, folding her arms tightly together. Fleur hadn't returned to the carriage since she'd left for the second task, not planning to spend the whole day in the hospital wing.

She eyed the nearing glow of the Beauxbatons carriage reluctantly, again bracing herself for the coming conversation.

Opening the door, she stepped in and moved down along towards the end, where her room was. Naturally, the carriage was far larger on the interior than it appeared from the outside. Her parents were staying just a few rooms down, and she slowly raised her hand to rap on their door twice.

The door swung open to reveal her father, who had an unusually worn look to him. He gestured her inside without a word. Fleur hurried past to sit on the couch, seeing her mother sitting by the desk in the corner. Multiple pages of parchment were strewn out before her, full of loopy scrawl.

"We have not been able to find much of anything," her father began, "I do not have any authority to access British Ministry custody records, and I doubt I will be able to obtain them in any other way. There have also been no recent sightings of Sirius Black."

He sighed, and continued, "I don't know if there is much we can do at this stage with his custody status. Their Ministry is quite corrupt if they can censor the news, as they did last year. We will continue to do what we can, but I cannot make you any promises. The best we can do right now is make things as easy for him as possible, and get him through the last task of the tournament."

Fleur wasn't sure how to reply, feeling a pang of disappointment. She'd been optimistic that they could find something to get Harry out of that terrible place, and she couldn't wait to inform him that he wouldn't have to go back. Now it looked like he might have to.

She wasn't entirely sure if she'd want to let that happen. How long she could go, knowing that he would be completely deprived of what he was just beginning to understand?

Appreciative of her parents' efforts, Fleur simply chose to hug her father. She didn't particularly care about what the Ministry said, however. There's always a way.


Harry was released from the hospital wing the next morning, with instructions to not overexert himself for at least a week. Fleur must've left to go back to her carriage at some stage. The thought made him think back to the previous afternoon.

A silly grin grew on his face unconsciously as Harry sauntered through the castle.

He'd been a little frustrated when Fleur had stopped him from speaking. The thought that she might be the one to say it first had never occurred to him, but he was now glad that she'd allowed him to come to terms with it. Whilst the previous topics were certainly not what he'd anticipated from the conversation, Harry felt like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Her parents seemed to like him too, something else that he'd worried about in the lead-up to the task.

For one reason or another, his scar hadn't given him as much as a single twinge since the summer. It had also been mostly fine before that, not bothering him much at all in his third year, so he didn't see a reason to worry.

The bizarre dream from the summer nagged at his conscience.

Harry made sure to stop by the empty fourth-floor classroom, in which he'd hidden his photo album and cloak in one of the desks at the back of the room, right in the corner. He'd decided to not hide the map with them, because he didn't think Dumbledore or any of the staff would know of its existence, let alone how to activate it. Emerging from the lake with a piece of parchment didn't strike Harry as particularly entertaining for the spectators either.

It hit him that he should probably check on Ginny, if not Hermione too. If Hermione even wanted to see him. Their friendship had entirely dissolved, but Harry thought he'd at least want to know that she was safe. He resolved to seek them out later.

Thinking back, Harry was disturbed by how indifferent he'd become towards everyone but Fleur before the Yule Ball. He didn't even know if he was still all there mentally. Surely, no sane person would do such a thing. Uncle Vernon would have some choice words for him.

His only comfort was that Fleur, or at least her parents, would certainly notice if something was off. He'd had enough of people seeing him through rose-tinted glasses, for better or worse. The school had always seen him as either the tragic hero or some conniving loner.

It somehow amused him how quickly people could change.

After trudging up the near-empty Gryffindor Tower to put his things away, he headed back out. Everyone else must've been at breakfast, or their first classes of the day.

Making his way down to the first floor, the corridor was suddenly filled with a flood of students, pouring out of the classrooms on either side like a raging river. He saw a head of bushy brown hair from his place on the staircase, a few steps from the bottom. Her eyes met his, but quickly averted, and he lost her in the crowd.

It hurt, but not nearly as much as it used to. He'd written Hermione off a while ago anyway. Harry wasn't sure how to describe it, but the castle felt different to him after yesterday anyway. Whilst it had previously been the only real home he'd ever known, it now felt like that home was elsewhere.

Harry didn't make an effort to steer his feet in a different direction this time. They carried him through the throng of students, out of the castle, and straight toward the Beauxbatons carriage.

Knocking on the door, he waited anxiously as muffled footsteps approached the other side of it. Before it'd even opened fully, he stumbled backwards and found himself flat on his back, a solid weight on top of him. It occurred to Harry that he should've probably gone for his wand, but before he was able to realise the thought, a giggle came from above him.

Looking back to the doorway, he saw Fleur smiling brightly at him. The weight on him shifted slightly.

"Um… hello?" he asked, adjusting the slightly-askew glasses on his nose and glancing down.

Familiar silver hair pooled on his chest as they looked up at him, wearing a grin he'd surely seen before elsewhere.

"Gabrielle?" he asked again.

She put her head back down and murmured something in French, hugging him tighter. It unnerved him slightly, having someone he'd never met before so close, but he reminded himself that it was Fleur's younger sister. She couldn't have been older than ten or eleven.

Mercifully, Fleur eventually took pity on him and helped to pry her off, although she looked like she was holding back a laugh. She helped him up after, the dewy grass having left a rather large wet spot on the back of his robes.

Fleur said something to Gabrielle in French, and Harry watched as a sheepish expression formed on her face. Her sister looked at him and grinned once more.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Harry," she said, smirking at Fleur, who simply sighed.

"You too, Gabrielle," he replied.

She held her hand out with a mischievous glance at her sister again, and he humoured her by shaking it.

"Was that good enough?" she asked Fleur.

Fleur sent an exasperated glance toward Harry.

"Yes, Gabby," she sighed, "Now come inside, it's too cold in this horrible country."

Gabrielle still hadn't let go of his hand, even after he'd tried to lightly draw it back, and she proceeded to yank him inside the carriage. Harry sent a helpless glance behind him to Fleur, who once again seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

She dragged him through the hall down to the very end, where she let go of his hand after pulling him inside a deceivingly large bedroom. There was a kitchenette just next to the door, embedded into the carriage wall, and an ensuite bathroom opposite it.

"I didn't know Beauxbatons students had such big rooms," Harry said, stunned at the luxury of their accommodation.

"You've not been in Fleur's bedroom before, Harry?" Gabrielle piped up from next to him, causing Harry to fight back the heat that rushed to his cheeks.

"Gabby!" Fleur scolded as she sat on the edge of the bed, "It is rude to tease, please give us some privacy."

With another quick grin at Harry, Gabrielle skipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Fleur was far less flustered than he thought she'd be. The smouldering glance she sent him only served to embarrass him further. She beckoned him towards her and he obliged. Fleur then wrapped an arm around his waist once he'd sat, right as a knock came at the door.

Fleur used her wand to open it. Stood there were the two Delacour parents. They smiled at her and walked in, pulling two chairs out from a desk near the foot of the bed. It seemed that Fleur had expected this.

"Hello, Harry," Apolline greeted, sitting down, "How do you feel?"

"Mostly fine," he started, but seeing Fleur's frown out of the corner of his eye, he hastily added on to it.

"Madam Pomfrey says I need to take it easy for a week. That's all."

"Good. I hope you follow that advice," she replied seriously, "We have a few more things to get to. Since yesterday, we have made a few more discoveries."

Sebastien stepped forward, wand in hand. Harry had the sudden urge to run away. He seemed to notice his uncertainty, as he lowered his wand and looked at Fleur.

"Perhaps it would be best if you did this part. Could you please cast the presence-revealing spell again?"

She nodded and drew her wand with the hand that wasn't around his waist. Not bothering to stand or disengage from him, she whispered the incantation.

Harry looked down, startled at the dim glow spreading outwards from his sternum. Whilst he'd heard Fleur talk about it yesterday, he was yet to see it in action.

"It seems brighter than it was yesterday, Papa," Fleur observed, "How can you explain this?"

Sebastien exchanged glances with Apolline.

"That may be something only you can give him," he commented, a smirk threatening to form, "This is a good sign, but we can't explain it to you until we understand it fully. The last thing I wish to do is give you false hope. I promise to tell you all I can if there is further progress with the soul's regeneration."

"Soul regeneration?" Harry blurted out in disbelief, "You mean it can work?"

"Yes, it can," Apolline answered softly, "As I said, it is a very obscure topic, but is thought to be possible if certain preconditions are met. The exact circumstances are not clear, we can only guess."

With a glance at her husband, Apolline continued.

"Unfortunately, I have confirmed my guess that dark magic was involved," she started, drawing her wand and waving it around the bedroom rapidly.

"I do not want to risk anyone else hearing this," she explained, looking back to Harry and Fleur when she'd finished, "What I have discovered is the theory behind what is referred to as a fragment of the soul. A Horcrux."

Harry felt Fleur's arm tighten around him.

"Have you felt somewhat…different, Harry? Since the World Cup?"

He nodded, dread pooling within him. Apolline grimaced.

"A Horcrux is the only explanation that makes sense, then. It is a fragment of the soul, split by the owner and placed within an object, to prevent them from passing on when their body dies. I can only assume that this 'Voldemort' is the one to blame in this instance. You said yesterday that he somehow inhabited your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's body?"

"Yes," Harry started cautiously, "Professor Dumbledore said that it was my mother's love for me that caused him to… react like that."

She frowned at that.

"I have a feeling the headmaster knows more than he lets on, he was not very forthcoming with what the second task was going to be either. However, he may also be correct - love is a very potent force that is poorly understood by most," Apolline said, "Regardless, I believe a part of the soul may have merged with your own if Voldemort is still alive. That would explain what my daughter saw and your mood swings, as well as why you had so many people avoiding you. Horcruxes cause others to feel negative emotions, and only a very special few would remain unaffected."

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, and for a moment Harry forgot how to breathe. The wheels in his head had slowly been turning on her previous explanation, but then cranked into overdrive as she elaborated. He had a part of Voldemort's soul within his own?

"B-but," he stammered, "Wouldn't it have been there before, too? Why now? How do we destroy it?"

Whilst Harry usually would have appreciated the sympathetic look Fleur's mother gave him, it just worried him further.

"To destroy it would mean to destroy your entire soul." Apolline replied, "You cannot isolate it now that the fragment has merged. It must have also been there before, and once again, I feel that the headmaster must have known. How did your relatives gain custody over you?"

He took a few moments, still struggling to digest and come to terms with the information.

"Professor Dumbledore left me at their doorstep with a note," Harry explained, "My aunt was my mother's sister."

This time both Apolline and Sebastien looked at him in disbelief, and he wasn't sure why.

"Is that a figure of speech?" Sebastien asked.

He hadn't realised just how dangerous the man could look if he tried.

"Figure of speech?" Harry questioned, confused.

Fleur's warm hand took his chin and turned it towards her. He wasn't sure why but she started lightly stroking it, looking at him intently. Harry found it to be very comforting, but her unreadable expression worried him.

"Did your relatives agree? He didn't just leave you in front of their door, right?"

Harry shook his head.

"He did," Harry replied, still puzzled, "My relatives reminded me of that until it sunk in."

It was difficult to not shy away from the dangerous glint in her eyes, but he reminded himself that he wasn't going to sink into playing the victim. Not again.

She let go of his chin, sighing, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Harry, we must remind you this is not normal," Sebastien said, "Most sane people do not make a habit of leaving babies on doorsteps."

"Okay," he answered, unsure how else to reply, "So what's with this 'Horcrux'?"

"I can only assume it must have been a real Killing Curse that hit you, and for the second time, after the World Cup," Apolline replied, "The Horcrux latched on to you that night your parents were murdered, and Voldemort was defeated, or so they say. There is no other explanation for its formation. The second Killing Curse might have partially torn both your original soul and the Horcrux, leaving the remaining parts to merge. Without it, I do not believe you would have survived."

"So I still have part of him in me?"

"Unfortunately, I assume that to be the case," she replied, "We can only hope that eventually your original soul overpowers it and erases it, but that will take time. If something else were to cause complications, it would have already happened. You do not need to worry about it taking over and possessing you. Overall, the foreign fragment of soul that has merged with your own is not nearly large enough to be a majority. Otherwise, the effects would've been visible immediately. Have you had any thoughts that were not your own?"

Harry thought back to the odd thrilling feeling he'd felt when handling the leather-bound book on soul magic, the Killing Curse he'd thrown out of anger back in that empty classroom, his personal goal for total independence and ambition. His anger and lack of trust towards those who had betrayed him. The near-euphoria he'd experienced doing things on his terms.

Most of it had faded over time, especially as he'd gotten closer to Fleur. He certainly wasn't the same person as he was before the Quidditch World Cup, however.

Slowly, Harry nodded, keeping his face impassive. He chose his words carefully.

"I sort of felt like everyone else could just go to hell," he admitted, "No one's ever really looked out for my interests too much, so I decided I'd start once my name came out of the goblet and no one wanted to talk to me. Even if I no longer have my old friends, I find it better in a way."

Fleur used her free hand to grab for his, and Harry threaded his fingers through hers. It was no longer such a foreign sensation, now rather instinctual.

"As we said yesterday, at the moment we just need to get you through the last task of the tournament." Sebastien commented, smirking, "It's admirable that you can focus on the bright side, although I do not doubt that my daughter helps with that,"

It was difficult, but Harry managed to avoid blushing before Fleur's parents. At least, until she chose to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek.


A/N

I'm glad that the previous chapter was well received, thank you all for your kind/constructive words. I'm also touched that some of you were invested enough to review and continue to do so. Until next time... :)