Hogsmeade Attacked in Assault by Potter and Dark Lord
- An Evening Prophet Exclusive: October 6th, 1997 –
In an article of breaking news, we are here to inform our faithful readers of a devastating attack in the early hours of this morning on the non-Muggle wizarding settlement Hogsmeade by none other than Undesirable No.1 himself, Harry Potter. Sighted in the village, Potter, in an act of cowardice, set a trap for the brave witches and wizards of our dear Ministry and the ICW, who were sent out to retrieve him for questioning in connection to the murder of former Minister Rufus Scrimgeour. It is to our understanding that Potter signaled to his partner, escaped Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, to trigger the ambush under the guise of his cooperation. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Corban Yaxley, who was injured in the battle had this to say: "Potter was a fiend. It's clear he's corrupted by whatever dark magic he's learned at the side of Grindelwald. He murdered a man before my eyes, an innocent, pure-blooded wizard and he was looking to kill more. I barely escaped with my life."
We here at the Prophet can confirm that Spanish agent, Andres Marín, of the ICW was killed. Marín was the former partner of the late Annabelle Jacqueline who is suspected to have been killed by Harry Potter during the initial breakout of Gellert Grindelwald from Nurmengard Prison. It is reported that several others have been killed, but their bodies have yet to be identified. Ex-Bulgarian International Seeker and former friend of Potter, Viktor Krum, is said to have been wounded in a duel with Grindelwald as well, but little is known of his status. Stay tuned for the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet for more news.
We must remind the public once again, that Potter is dangerous and willing to kill, and all information regarding him and his whereabouts should be reported immediately.
The-Boy-Who-Lived Wanted Dead or Alive
- A Daily Prophet Report: October 13th, 1997 –
Last night, following a week of intense deliberation between Minister Thicknesse, the Auror Department, and high-ranking members of the ICW, an unprecedented decision was made to lay the fate of one Harry Potter in his own hands. Minister Thicknesse had this to say in a statement following the announcement: "We've come to the conclusion that Harry Potter is far too dangerous to be left free to his own machinations. Potter has shown a gross dismissal for the value of magical life through his violent acts, and we fear for the wizarding public every moment he remains on the loose. The choice is clear: surrender himself peacefully and he will be tried or resist and forfeit the life his parents sacrificed for him."
Infamously known as Undesirable No.1 across Britain, Potter's descent into darkness has been a fascinating, yet terrible reminder of what fame and a troubled Muggle upbringing can do to a mind. Also included in the new directive is Potter's accomplice, Gellert Grindelwald. What might seem like a preposterous pairing on the outside, lay hidden roots, dark ties, and an extraordinary history on its inside. Your most pressing questions on what links these two wanted wizards and what their motives might be, will soon be answered by the Prophet's very own Rita Skeeter in her new book, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.
In an effort to track down Potter, the Ministry has also announced its plans on an internal review on employees who are suspected to have maintained a secret alliance with the maligned Boy-Who-Lived. These will coincide with the interviews of the Ministry's formerly announced Muggle-Born Registration Commission. More details can be found on the next page…
Fans in Turmoil as Krum's Career Hangs in Healer's Hands
- A Rita Skeeter Insider Scoop: October 18th, 1997 –
As the International Quidditch community approaches a crisis, veteran Prophet journalist, and author of the upcoming tell-all book on Albus Dumbledore's shadowy past, Rita Skeeter, reports the latest on the Bulgarian superstar's status. Krum (pictured above receiving a double dose of Skele-Gro) has been undergoing treatment in St. Mungo's Hospital since being gruesomely injured in his heroic duel with Gellert Grindelwald at the attack on Hogsmeade.
Rumours have wildly spread in recent weeks on Krum's condition, ranging from the extraordinary to the outlandish. In an exclusive, one-of-a-kind opportunity achieved through a close friendship with the wizard in question, this writer had the chance to speak to Krum in the treatment room and bring the readers details from behind his road to recovery. When posed the question of whether his grandfather would be proud for fighting the man who killed him, Krum could not respond, his eyes so lost in pain and mind set solely on finding his revenge. If one thing is for certain, Potter and Grindelwald will never again have a peaceful night's rest with Krum hot on their tail.
Having a good look at the champion in person, it can also be confirmed that contrary to popular reports, Krum did not, in fact, lose his seeking hand, which should bring a sigh of relief to every Quidditch fan in the world. When speaking to specialists on the Janus Thickey Ward, one in particular had this to say: "Krum will be out as good as new, or even better than new once we're done with him. I even got an autograph from him the other day with his injured hand! It was a bit squiggly given he didn't have bones in it at the time, but my nephew won't mind. I'd tell his fans not to worry, he'll be back on his broom catching snitches like nothing ever happened."
We here at the Prophet all wish Mr. Krum the best and speediest of recoveries, and hope to see him lifting the Quidditch World Cup next year, but not against England, of course.
Potter to Strike Ministry Next!
- A Daily Prophet Daily Report: October 23rd, 1997 –
Shocking new details have emerged from the Hogsmeade attack perpetrated by Harry Potter and Gellert Grindelwald. Speaking to us at the Prophet directly, a first-hand account of the events preceding that fateful autumn morning were shared straight from the mouth of the owner of the now destroyed Hog's Head Inn, where Potter allegedly was first confronted by ICW and Ministry forces. The barkeeper, a man who calls himself Abe, has come out after over two weeks of hiding to reveal information he was too scared to before. "They came to recruit me, you see, because I'm Albus' brother. They thought I'd be powerful, but all I care about is me goats. Then they tried to kill me in me own bar! Gellert never liked me when he used to run around with Albus, I'm sure you can read about that in Ms. Skeeter's new book."
Although at the Prophet we appreciate the free publicity for one of our writers, we cannot corroborate the claims that this old man is Albus Dumbledore's long forgotten and estranged brother, Aberforth. Despite his dubious identity, he also had this to say: "They're going after the Ministry next! I heard the Potter boy rambling about taking something, but I can't remember what exactly. He was going on like a madman and I was too scared to listen proper."
And there we have it, news of an impending attack on the Ministry. What Potter truly wants is as mysterious as his prior motives, but it's safe to say that a hunger for power and thirst for violence is not something new to those who have loyally followed the Prophet and our coverage on The-Boy-Who-Turned-Dark since his troubled beginnings at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When asked for a comment on his former student, current Headmaster Severus Snape said, "Potter is as much a danger to himself as he is to others. The boy was always emotionally unstable, and no one listened despite my frequent warnings."
The Ministry has not yet commented on the validity of this threat, but we urge all Ministry employees to be vigilant at all times and report any suspicious behaviour.
Flipping through the articles, Harry rubbed tiredly at his face. There were more, many more spread out in front of him, clippings and headlines and photographs all stacked in a growing, wobbly tower on the desk to his right. No stone had been left unturned in the smearing of his name, picking right up where the Ministry left off in his 5th year.
Tucked into the bottom corner of today's paper, of which he held in his hand, and printed in bold popping letters, was: Who are the Dursleys? A look into the Muggle's who poisoned Potter.
Feeling sick to his stomach, he tossed the paper away and set his jaw.
"At least they finally published Aberforth's story," said Fleur from where she sat on the edge of his bed across the room.
Some of the tension left his face, and he looked to her eyes which reached out softly.
"It took them long enough. I was starting to think they would sniff it out for a fake."
He walked over and joined her, sinking into the lumpiness of the old mattress.
"I still think they might figure it out. Maybe not the Prophet, but the Ministry."
"You worry too much, 'Arry," Fleur chided. A finger poked him between the eyes. "All day I see you frowning, I think I might have forgotten what it's like to see you smile."
Harry attempted one, but it felt strained and misplaced.
"That's no it," she said with a shake of the head. "No. That makes you look like Monsieur Moody."
He felt something that was almost a laugh escape his throat, but it died before it could so much as reach his lips.
Fleur frowned.
"The Ministry will believe your story, even if they don't trust Aberforth," she assured. "With you and Grindelwald together, even the tiniest hint of a threat will have them worried." She paused and laughed lightly to herself. "That dreadful woman's book has somehow managed to do us a favour."
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, Harry recounted to himself bitterly. What a horrible creation. It was something only a retched little insect like Skeeter could release… But it added credence to the story Harry had fed Aberforth, and he would count whatever blessings he could find.
Something soft suddenly cupped his cheek and pulled him towards the warm pools of pale blue eyes. Concern swam within their depths along with other things he couldn't quite place.
"There's something else troubling you… I can see it eating inside you," Fleur said, rubbing her thumb over the burn along his jaw.
Harry closed his eyes, wishing he wasn't so easy for her to read. He breathed in deeply. "I'm nervous is all. Things are going to happen soon, I can feel it."
It wasn't a lie, not entirely. But there was more. There was fear—so, somuch fear. A fear which clamped around his heart and squeezed every time he walked into a room and was met with lavender or the sight of light dancing over streams of silver hair.
Harry shook his head, trying, and failing, to clear his thoughts. "Have you heard back from the goblins?" he asked, in an attempt to distract himself.
Her hand stilled, and there was a moment of silence.
"I have."
When nothing further was said, Harry peeked over to see Fleur staring up at the ceiling.
"And?" he prompted.
"I think we have finally come to an agreement," said Fleur, biting at her lower lip. "I already wrote them back trying to find a suitable date."
"I knew they'd be a pain to deal with," grumbled Harry.
Fleur nodded, her lips pressed thin. "And what about you?" she asked quickly.
"Still nothing."
In a bout of pent-up frustration, he kicked his trunk and watched it scrape a half-inch across the floor next to his bed. He then shifted his eyes to a short string of silver, gleaming just out from under his pillow.
Everard's locket had sat there, dormant, for weeks. The old wizard had yet to get back to him, and no amount of staring at a blank canvas in the dead of night, calling, had roused him to his frame.
The thought that maybe something happened had started to twist its way into his mind, only adding to his already irritable mood, which Fleur had clearly picked up on.
A knock on the door interrupted them, and Grindelwald peeked his head through with a twisted grin.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
"You know you're not," said Harry, unamused, while Fleur fought back a smile. "What do you want?"
"A great many things now that you ask," he said, his eyes lighting up at the scowl worn on Harry's face. "But before all that, we are wanted downstairs for a meeting."
"They came to get you first?" Fleur raised an eyebrow, dubiously.
Grindelwald straightened his shoulders, looking rather pleased with himself. "I think they are beginning to like me."
"I'm sure…" Harry rolled his eyes. "And who was it?"
"Those twins you are friends with."
Harry snorted. "They don't like you, they only wanted to see your evil lair—too bad you sleep on the floor of an attic."
"It would explain the reason they sulked once I opened the door," Grindelwald thought aloud, tapping at his chin.
Making their way downstairs, they were quick to notice that it was more of an informal meeting today. An odd smattering of the Order was present, already waiting for them. He could see Bill and the twins at one end of the room, and Heath, Tonks, Mad-Eye and Kingsley filling in around the rest of the table.
"Slow day?" Harry said to Fred and George as he entered.
"We had some… unwanted guests poking around our merchandise. Thought it'd be best to close up for the night," Fred replied with a shrug.
"Or the next three," George muttered under his breath.
Shifting their eyes and perhaps noticing for the first time who'd come down with him, the twins shared a furtive look. A matching set of overly cheerful smiles suddenly sprouted on their faces not a second later.
"Fleur," Fred cooed.
"Flower," George sung.
"You look as ravishing as ever," Fred finished with a bow.
"Merci," she replied, but her eyebrows knit together in confusion and her lips turned in an unsure smile.
Harry watched the twin's suspiciously but saw nothing that suggested they were up to anything. Shaking his head, he turned to face the rest of the room.
"Your plan with Aberforth looks to have worked," Moody said, starting them off. "You sure it will bring You-Know-Who to the Ministry?"
"It should make him at least worried," Harry said, a bit more confident than when he'd spoken to Fleur. "But I imagine that's not why you wanted to meet."
He looked around the room with a level of seriousness.
"The goblins chose me to be one of your escorts to the vaults," Bill said, stepping forward, chancing a glance towards Fleur in a way that bothered Harry more than he'd like to admit.
Harry tried to squash the feeling inside of him. Bill had been more than agreeable in recent weeks and gone out of his way to, perhaps not rebuild the bridge between them, but at least clear away the charred remains of the last one. He looked much better as well, a vibrancy returning to his tied back red hair and a confidence settling in his shoulders.
"You managed it then," Fleur said, her eyes lighting up intently.
Bill shrugged his shoulders casually, a handsome smile sneaking over his lips. "It took a bit of luck, but I got it done in the end."
"What?" Harry broke in, a bit more forceful than he had intended.
Lingering a moment longer, Bill's eyes flicked from Fleur's delicate features.
"Fleur asked me to find a way to join you in Gringotts," Bill replied, very much enthused.
"It is a stipulation I have been negotiating with the goblins," Fleur added, narrowing her eyes a touch. "They wish to have one of their employees escort us to the vault. Rather than someone who will cause us trouble, I asked William to try and land the role."
"Most of Gringotts knew we were together," Bill said, his cheeks coloring slightly, "so, recently I've been rather… er, vocal about what happened around work. With the way the goblins feel about Fleur, we thought they might want to stick us together just for their own cruel amusement. It was her idea, really—perfectly brilliant," he finished, flashing a charming, white grin.
She gave a short nod in response, acknowledging the compliment. "I agreed to the rest of their conditions this morning, that must be why they asked William today."
"What else did they want from you?" Fardale asked from where he stood next to Tonks. He laughed lightheartedly. "The worst jobs I've ever had were when the Auror office sent me down to Gringotts. They always made me do something unnecessary and ridiculous."
"Nothing," Fleur said, shifting her eyes to the ceiling. "I only had to write my mother and have her send copies of my certifications to prove my identity, since I left them home in France. My robes will arrive in a few days' time, and all should be set."
"And you'll just walk in and they'll take you to whatever it is you're looking for?" Moody asked, still clearly skeptical over the quality of their plan.
"That is what we are hoping, yes," she responded.
Mad-Eye grunted. "And what about your good friend over there?" He nodded scornfully in the direction of Grindelwald. "What is he doing in all of this?"
"To my great disappointment, I have no role to play. Harry views me as too much of an… aggressor, shall we say." There was a hint of self-satisfaction with Grindelwald's use of the term. "I am a wand left to the reserves, the same as you."
"There's no room for fighting in what we're trying to do," Harry explained to the man for what felt like the millionth time. He could see a glint of amusement in Grindelwald's pale eyes and knew he'd been riled up on purpose.
"I'm going into Hogwarts alone," he continued on in spite of Grindelwald's antics. "I have my cloak and my map, and I'm slipping in and out before anyone notices. I don't want to draw any more attention than necessary. Besides, the goblins only think it's Fleur going to see them."
"We understand, Harry," said Kingsley, cutting in gently.
"It's just a lot on your shoulders, is all," said Tonks, her eyes shifting between a soft brown and deep blue.
You have no idea… Harry thought to himself, wanting to curse and laugh at the same time.
Kingsley cleared his throat and leaned closer over the table. "I know it's something we ask you a lot—and I'm sorry about that—but are you sure about this? Are you okay? We can help come up with a different plan if we need."
Harry swallowed thickly, but before he could so much as open his mouth to respond, the front door snapped shut and the room fell silent.
Voices could be heard, soft and rumbling, indistinct from the front hall, but something about them was enough to make Bill's eyes shoot open and the twins jump to their feet. Moody's magical eye snapped to a point through the wall, and his mouth tumbled open.
"Bloody hell… it's Arthur."
That was all it took for the Weasleys to race from the room.
For the rest of them, time seemed to suddenly stop, leaving them staring numbly at one another. However, the cheers and cries of a jubilant reunion was eventually enough to burst the bubble they'd found themselves in.
At some point, he wasn't sure when, Harry's feet carried him into the hall, and he found himself watching Arthur Weasley climbing free from the many limbs of his sons.
He looked thin, wasted, with far more wrinkles and gray hairs than he could remember seeing before; but shining over it all, lifting the marks of what he had endured, if only for a moment, was the brightest smile Harry had ever seen.
"How?" Someone asked from within the crowd. Harry thought it might have been Tonks.
"We were at home…" Mrs. Weasley choked, tears streaming from her eyes, "and… and…"
"We were just taking care of the gnomes in the garden when—when Krum showed up… with Dad," Charlie took over, his eyes puffy as well. "Said he was free to come home. We wanted him to get some rest but—"
"I wanted to see Harry first," Mr. Weasley finished softly. He took a step forward to face him, the warmth of his affection still glowing on his face. "I wanted to apologize."
Harry felt his head swim, and he fought to keep it above the emotion which threatened to drown him. "You shouldn't have to apologize," he almost gasped.
"No, no I should. It was wrong of me to turn my back on you. I should have listened, and I should have trusted you, just like Dumbledore would have wanted. I was blinded by emotion, and I'm sorry."
"You were locked up because of me."
"I was locked up because of the war. Whether it resulted from you or was used in a manner to get to you, it doesn't matter—there is no higher honour." His light blue eyes twinkled with a kindness. "I've known you since you were a half-starved little boy, Harry, I should never have suspected you of any wrong."
A pressure built up behind his eyes, and Harry ducked his head.
"Why did he let you go?" Bill asked from the side.
Arthur paused at his son's question.
"In truth, he never did quite say. All he told me was that a deal had been made, and he'd kept me long enough from my family—and that's not something I can disagree with. I'm just glad to be home." He took Molly in his arms and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
Despite the scene in front of him, Harry felt his brow furrow. Something didn't sound right to him. Why had Krum kept Mr. Weasley so long if he planned on honoring his agreement from the beginning? What caused this change of heart?
"You're frowning again," a voice whispered in his ear, drawing him from his thoughts. Fleur looked to him with teasing eyes. "Are you not happy?"
"I am happy," said Harry, attempting a smile. Just concerned…
"Ah, hello, my dear, I was expecting to see you here when I returned."
Mr. Weasley's voice stilled the activity around them. A cordial smile still sat on his lips and his eyes crinkled. There wasn't a hint of displeasure in his expression as his gaze fell on Fleur.
"I hope you are doing well," he said kindly.
For a second, Fleur stared, perhaps a bit baffled, but she quickly composed herself and looked back just as friendly.
Her eyes flicked to Harry as she responded, "I am."
Someone cleared their throat then, loudly and distinctly.
"Um… I have an announcement to make now—we do, I mean—me and Tonks, that is," Fardale stumbled over his words, standing above them all on the second step of the staircase. He looked oddly nervous with all the attention on him, but he wore a goofy smile.
To his side, Harry could see Tonks gripping his hand like a vise, her eyes beaming with a similar nervous excitement while fighting the grin trying to escape to her face.
Harry's stomach dropped with a sudden realization.
"We've been holding off the last while, trying to keep it secret since—you know, it hasn't been the happiest of times as of late. But things are looking better now and everyone's here and… well, I'm not sure how much longer we can keep it hidden anyway. It gets pretty obvious at a point. But what I'm trying to say is we—actually, it's not me, it's Tonks since she's the girl—but Tonks is…"
"For Merlin's sake I'm pregnant!" Tonks announced, ending her husband-to-be's waffling.
A moment of silence fell over the house, so profound a Doxy dropping could be heard falling to the carpet three floors above.
Then Mrs. Weasley screamed, rushed to the young couple, and threw them into a bone-crushing embrace.
After that, everything seemed to happen in a blur. Euphoria swept through the house taking hold of it like a fever, its occupants fully captured in its swaying delirium. A party had been called, all other matters cast to the wayside, celebrating the good and the great life had served them today. Seemingly from nowhere Fred and George pulled out a 'Welcome Home Dad' and 'Baby On The Way' sign, before disappearing to their shop and coming back with singing balloons, and streamers that danced and changed colors and called you names if they so fancied it. Mrs. Weasley was off cooking up a storm, preparing a feast of Arthur's favorites and dishes she remembered craving during her own pregnancies. Even Hermione had come out of her hole in the library and was busy chatting excitedly with Tonks after having been told the news.
Harry could scarcely remember the last time things had been like this, so carefree and fun with laughter abound. It had been as if they'd all drunk a gallon of Gigglewater, which in truth, wouldn't have surprised him with what Charlie was passing around behind his mother's back. The twins had smuggled in their own contraband as well, judging by the devious smirks worn on their matching faces.
Seeing this all unfold, watching this flicker of happiness spark from a day as dark as any other, Harry felt a cloud of melancholy cast its long shadow over him. A part of him wished Ron was here to be with his family, and Ginny too, not holed up in a castle with the enemy. He wanted Remus here, and Sirius, and Dumbledore and his parents. He wanted to be surrounded by people that he loved… who loved him back.
This doesn't change anything, he thought. They'll wake up in the morning and see me with Grindelwald and forget this ever happened. I stained their love, and it'll never be the same…
A glass was shoved in his hand, cool and heavy, followed by an order.
"Drink."
Fleur clinked her own glass against his and peered at him coyly over its crystal edge before taking a sip. With a practice swipe of the hand, she wiped a thin red stain off her upper lip.
Harry felt his throat dry at the sight.
"Please, 'Arry, drink, be merry avec moi," Fleur encouraged with some of her French slipping through. She giggled. "Enough with your brooding. It is wine, good wine, I had Kreacher show me where the Black Family kept their collection."
He took a sip, feeling its acidic taste and fruity aroma fill his mouth pleasantly. He wasn't an authority on whether it was truly good or not, but he enjoyed it, and judging by the flushness of her face, so did Fleur.
"See, I told you," she said, and he had a second taste of the wine off her breath. He thought he might have liked that one more. "I would not give you such waste like the others."
She sent a snobbish look in the direction of Charlie, Heath and the twins, who took turns taking shots of cheap Firewhiskey and laughing at the steam coming from each other's ears.
"No, of course not, your distinguished palate could never allow it."
Fleur smacked him lightly on the arm, taking a step closer and warming the two of them. Harry felt his heart pulse a little quicker.
It's just the wine, he told himself, taking another sip.
"You may laugh, 'Arry, but have you not ever had better food than when you stayed avec ma famille?" She sighed heavily and continued without waiting for a response. "I cannot wait to leave this island and return to ma belle Provence."
Harry didn't quite know what to say to that, feeling his stomach squirm strangely at the thought of Fleur leaving, but thankfully he was saved by Mrs. Weasley bringing out the food and laying it on the table for all to try.
"Don't look now," he said taking the opportunity, "but here comes more terrible island food."
"I always appreciate Molly's efforts," Fleur replied with a quick roll of the eye.
They followed the crowd which migrated towards the laden table as though magnetically attracted to the steaming scents coming off the piping trays. More picking at his food than actually eating, Harry was far more interested in the wine Fleur kept pouring for them. Soon enough, the troubles which plagued him began to melt away, and a fuzziness built inside of him, warming his skin and focusing his mind on important matters such as the slope of Fleur's neck, the fullness of her lips, and the way her eyes sparkled when he earned a precious laugh.
"Isn't it so wonderful!" An excited voice cut in.
Harry twisted his neck to see Hermione approaching their sheltered corner of the sitting room with a freshly loaded plate.
"Mr. Weasley coming back and Tonks and Auror Fardale having a baby!" Her eyes burst with an excitement Harry had almost forgotten they could possess. "I wonder when the wedding will be, Tonks was saying she wanted it soon, before the baby comes… and oh, the baby! They said they were thinking of calling him Teddy after her father, isn't that splendid?"
"Teddy…" Fleur repeated the name under her breath. For a moment Harry thought she might insult it. "Théodore… Théo…" A dazzling smile split her face, "C'est mignon."
"It is, isn't it! It's absolutely adorable," Hermione agreed enthusiastically. "I told that to Tonks right away, that she better keep it around. I still can't believe she's pregnant!"
"I'm surprised you didn't notice," Harry said, not thinking.
Hermione looked to him in confusion.
"It's just that—I thought it would be one of those things you pieced together… you know, like you used to. Like how you figured out Remus was a Werewolf before anyone else."
Harry could feel the way Fleur's eyebrow arched in amusement as she watched him. Unfortunately, he didn't need her judging stare to know he sounded like an idiot.
"Listen, forget it, that's not what I was trying to say—"
"I know what you're trying to say," Hermione said, pensively. Her excitement dimmed and she grew very serious, not saying anything for several seconds, deep in thought. Finally, she looked up, almost vulnerable. "I know I haven't been around much, but it's because I've been working on something… I think I've found my parents."
Harry's mouth fell open. He hadn't been expecting that.
"Or narrowed it down at least," Hermione continued quickly. "There's a pub down the road I've been using to make calls and there's a library not too far from here I've been visiting often; no one seems to notice when I'm gone so I thought I might as well. I figured that if my parents moved to Australia, and they're dentists, then maybe they've tried to set up a new practice."
"And did they?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded. "It took a lot of digging, and I nearly gave up, but I found someone by the last name Granger who applied for a license last month. I still need to get there and actually find them, but…"
"Incroyable," Fleur breathed, just as impressed as he was.
"She is, isn't she," the distinctive voice of Fred whispered reverently. His orange head suddenly popped into view, and he was holding what looked to be a small silver shot glass.
"Brewed her ourselves, we did," George joined in, holding his own.
Appearing seemingly from nowhere, they pushed in front of Hermione and pressed the silver glasses into Harry and Fleur's hands.
"What is it?" Harry asked with caution.
"She sips like syrup and kicks like a canon about twenty minutes later," George said as though it were the greatest thing in the world.
Hermione looked on disapprovingly.
"Her creation was a happy accident after we botched a batch of our daydream potions from our Wonder Witch line," Fred explained.
"And you want me to drink it?"
They both nodded like a pair of bobbleheads.
"Oh c'mon, Harry, don't be such a slug," said Fred.
"You too, our Fleur-de-lis," George grinned.
"It'll liven you right up," Fred encouraged with an even bigger grin.
Fleur looked cheekily to Harry. "You have been awfully frowny today," she pointed out.
Harry sighed and rubbed an exasperated hand over his face.
"Sod it! If it gets you off my back, I'll do anything," he laughed, tipping the glass back and let the sticky, liquorice tasting liquid hit the back of his throat.
Fleur's eyes shone triumphantly, and she lifted her own glass.
"Don't!"
The blur of a hand swiped through the air and knocked Fleur's glass before it could reach her lips.
A sudden lull fell over the room, as voices hushed, conversations paused, and eyes could be felt turning with interest.
"What did you give her?" Bill demanded, wide-eyed and panting. He pointed a finger at his brothers.
The twins exchanged a look, neither wanting to say anything, until Fred elbowed George in the ribs, and the injured one said, "Nothing. It's the same as what we gave Harry."
Harry looked down at the empty glass in his hand. It tasted fine.
"Don't lie!" he snapped.
"We're not," George squeaked.
"What?" Bill stopped, his eyes losing focus and face redonning by the second. "You mean—but—but I saw you… I know the looks you have when… You didn't give her—"
Perhaps spurred by his older brother's embarrassment, Fred's face caved in with guilt.
"At one point we maybe, kinda, just for a second, considered slipping some feather sprouting oil into her drink," he admitted in a shameful rush. "But our better nature won out in the end! We've grown up a bit; realized it was too petty."
Bill didn't respond. Instead, he stared, unblinkingly, at the perfectly harmless drink he'd splashed to the floor. Looking up to Fleur, his eyes searching longingly, Bill's handsome face twisted between humiliation and something more. Spinning on his heel, he fled the room.
Deflated, the twins sulked their shoulders and followed after him in apology. Hermione excused herself as well, saying she wanted to go thank Mrs. Weasley for the food.
"That was unnecessary," said Harry once they'd all left.
"I think you're just jealous Bill came to my rescue," Fleur teased, her blue eyes dancing.
"Jealous," Harry scoffed at the word, but Fleur looked anything but convinced.
"You don't need to pretend, 'Arry." She parted her lips and leaned in close, her breath mixing sweetly with his own. "I rather like it." She pulled back and winked.
"Come! Let us find a place where the others will not bother us."
Taking him by the hand, Fleur led him upstairs and away from the party, the voices fading behind them as they climbed. Harry's head felt cloudy, but he couldn't be sure if it was because of Fleur or the wine. Eventually they ended up in front of his bedroom door, and she pushed it open and pulled him inside.
The door closed behind them, and by the time he spun around, Fleur was already at a table, pouring from a new bottle into a pair of waiting glasses. Kreacher worked very fast when he wanted to.
He could hear her giggling again, the sound more pleasing than anything he could think of in that moment. Her laughter only built as she tried rather unsuccessfully to compose herself between shaky sips.
"What is it?" Harry asked, unable to hold back any longer.
"I cannot believe he did that," she said, giggling some more, to the point where her eyes started to water with mirth.
"Who?"
"William."
"Oh… yeah." Harry let out a dry chuckle. He played with the crystal glass Fleur had passed to him. "I almost feel bad," he said.
"He looks at me with such hope I could not dare to crush it, but perhaps that is cruel of me to do," she said with a shrug, raising her glass vaguely above her head.
"I don't think so," Harry answered honestly.
Fleur gazed at him strangely, the intensity of her look enough to lodge his heart in his throat and stop its beat.
She looked away, dipping her face behind her glass, and Harry felt like he could breathe again.
"This wine reminds me of home…"
Harry waited, knowing she was to continue by the way her voice trailed off lyrically.
"It is one of Papa's favorites, we had it with dinner the night before I came back for you. He told me I should go, I never told him that I wanted to, but somehow, he knew. He said my light had dimmed after you had left, une bougie par rapport au soleil, that he could not bear to watch me live in such darkness anymore. I miss him terribly."
A feeling from earlier tugged at his mind, pulling him into the gloom of what it would be like when she was gone. It was a silly thought, but the war would not last forever, and there were no guarantees he'd make it out with her.If that's the case, then it doesn't matter in the end, he tried to tell himself. But it would matter. It mattered more than anything. It mattered enough that Dumbledore had spared his final breath to tell him so.
"What is it?" She was in front of him now, and that same queer gleam played in her eye. She put down her glass and took his hands in her own. "Speak to me, 'Arry. It is only us."
Harry swallowed, trying to unstick his throat as he traced the silver strands which framed the beauty of her face.
"Will you leave? When this is over, do you truly want to go?" he asked, and Fleur's eyes clouded.
"'Arry, of course I want to leave. This place…" She looked around the room, "I do not belong here."
His heart sank and he ducked his head, feeling the words twist around his heart.
There was sharp intake of breath and then a slight giggle. Harry found himself looking up, wondering what she found so funny about all of this.
"Désolé, 'Arry, do not be cross with me," she said, a smile still pulling at the corner of her mouth. "I did not realize what you were asking."
She squeezed his hands, mere inches away, so close he could see the light gloss over her lips.
"I have never thought of leaving without you."
In the way his heart sunk, it shot back up with a force that made it skip. "Do you mean it?" he asked, needing to be sure.
She nodded, flecks of rose dusting over her cheeks.
"I could not return without you. What would Gabriel say? What would my father after sending me out with one purpose?" She laughed, but sobered just as quickly, that intense look returning to her eye. "France, it is my home, but never so much as when you were with me. If I return without you by my side, it would not be whole, no place could ever be."
Harry pulled her tight against him and whispered, "You asked me once before to come with you to France…"
"My mind has never changed."
He kissed her then and she fell into his arms. Their lips pressed against one another with the force of the world, until Fleur opened her mouth, deepening it, and it felt as though they fell through it.
The haze of the wine was replaced by the haze of something else—a passion, a need, a desire, which tore through him with desperate fingers. His skin burned with every caress of her hand, as if the scars of his face had been lit back to life. The silk of her hair tumbled like a curtain, and he brushed it gently to reach the space he kissed along her jaw.
She moaned, and Harry smiled, and then she stopped him with her hands. The blue of her eyes had never looked so brilliant, and the flush of her face and the puff of her hot breath made him want to ravish her even more.
"Is this what I need to do to see you happy?"
Harry shrugged, smiling again. "It doesn't hurt."
She shrieked in delight as he picked her up and pushed her to the desk against the wall, not caring about the tower of papers he sent flying to the floor.
He didn't care about anything in that moment, other than the taste of her lips and the feel of her under his fingertips as they travelled along her body. He didn't care about the wine they'd left behind or the sound of Moody's barking laugh from downstairs, or Molly's shrill admonitions, or Bill and Charlie's echoing voices as they shared jokes and stories to anyone who would listen. He didn't care for any of it.
It was different from last time, there was no shame, there was no guilt. There was nothing stopping him from taking what he wanted, so he did.
He dove into her sweetness, and she let him, falling to the bed and laying there in each other's arms, basking in the feel of the other. He could feel her hand running through the dishevelled mess of his hair, and he closed his eyes, his lids having grown heavy, drunk off her and the overwhelming scent of lavender.
It was as though he was back in the fields of France, swimming in a purple sea; and for a moment he was. He could feel the breeze coming in from the East, blowing the flowers at his side in shifting waves. He stood, staring off at a hill growing into the horizon, smiling, knowing that a home rested on its other side. A home, happy and so full of love, like he'd always wanted.
Like he'd always dreamt of…
The hill fell away, and so vanished the breeze and the home and the flowery fields around him with it. But the lavender remained, lingering in the soft space beside him on his bed, still warm from where Fleur must have left not moments before.
He found he had woken with a smile.
Flipping to his stomach, looking to find his glasses, which must have fallen off at some point, Harry's hand came across the thin chain of the locket beneath his pillow.
A thought came to him then—a realization from a mind still foggy with sleep and wine and Merlin knew what else.
I need to tell her, I owe her that at least, he reasoned, grasping the locket and staring at its amber surface. She deserves to know. I can't have her thinking there's a chance, when I've found…
"Everard?" Harry exclaimed, shocked to see the man staring back at him through the frame.
"Ah, Harry, finally. Apologies for taking so long," the man sounded exhausted.
"It's alright," he said, suddenly very awake. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," he assured. "It's just, as I said before, it was not an easy task you asked of me."
"Did they get my message?"
"They did, and they found a way for you to enter the castle as well."
"When?"
"In a weeks' time, before the celebrations of Samhain," he said. "On the 30thof the month, a week from today, they ask that you meet them at sundown at a place known as the Shrieking Shack."
Harry sat in silence, his mind awhirl, and his earlier intentions completely forgotten. The locket hung loosely in his fingers as he stared out into the shadows of his room.
"Mr. Potter…"
He looked down into the solemn face of the painted man.
"Good luck."
AN
I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter! I tried to get it out as soon as possible following the last one. As most of you can probably tell, we're approaching the end quickly, and only a few chapters remain. That being said, they probably won't be released as quickly as these ones, but I'll try to not keep you hanging for too long.
As always, please leave me your thoughts and opinions! Your reviews mean a lot to me, and I enjoy reading all of them. Thanks.