Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this story belong to me.

Chapter Forty | Once More, With Feeling

Amelia Bones kneaded her temple with one hand, staring at the corpse of Ludo Bagman.

Even she would admit that the sight was horrific.

His skin was covered in markings from head to toe, lightning-like cracks that spread all over as if he'd been a bit of pottery dropped from a high.

Not to mention the bloodied, gaping eye sockets; a trail of gelatinous residue was all that remained of the organs once nestled in his skull.

She'd never seen magic the likes of this before. No one had. Damnit, she'd wager that even the unspeakables had never seen such a thing.

If that didn't scream danger, she didn't know what did.

"Shacklebolt, anything you're getting from those readings?" she asked, a touch of impatience lacing her words.

Her right hand looked up from the body with a blank look on his face. "Nothing at all ma'am, at least, nothing I've ever seen before." He cast a confused glance back towards Bagman, brow furrowed intensely. "It's… I can't explain it."

She crossed her arms, looking back at her subordinate with an understanding expression. "Just tell me what you can Shack."

He nodded shakily, face still knitted in consternation. "The magic is unlike anything that I've ever seen. It's raw… pure, and he's absolutely covered in the stuff." Rubbing his forehead, Shacklebolt continued. "We'd have to call in the research division to take a look at this, but the closest thing I can think of would be whatever spells that person who broke into Azkaban used."

Amelia's mood took an immediate nosedive at those words, her features falling into a poorly concealed grimace. "What do you mean?"

"I… it's hard to explain, but it's almost exactly like that magic. Just… opposite."

Swearing loudly, she dragged her fingers through her hair. "Call in the Unspeakables immediately, I want them to find out whether or not this murder is connected to the break in as soon as possible."

Shacklebolt got to his feet, briskly nodding at Amelia. "On it, ma'am."

Just as he was leaving the room, she turned and shouted after him. "Get the files on the break in to my desk while you're at it. Everything we've got."

A muted, 'yes ma'am,' reached her ears, immediately followed by the telltale pop of apparition.

"Fucks sake," Amelia muttered, turning back to the crime scene and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Looks like we've might have another Dark Lord on the rise."

Ludo Bagman Murdered!

Just last evening one of our most accomplished members of society was found brutally murdered in his own home.

Ludo Bagman was best known for being the former star beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, as well as the Assistant-Head of the Department of Magical Sports and Games. Many are also familiar with him due to his being one of the primary Tri-Wizard Tournament Planners and Judges.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was called to his home yesterday afternoon, after he was noted as conspicuously absent from work. Our esteemed Minister Cornelius Fudge attempted to get into contact with his long-time co-worker and friend. When he could not get a hold of Ludo via floo, he contacted the DMLE and had them sent over, where the body of Ludo was found.

As the investigation is still on-going, we are not privy to all the information.

What we have been told, is that Ludo was subjected to magic of a most horrible nature, something never before seen by the DMLE, nor the Department of Mysteries.

We at the Herald offer our condolences to his family and friends and hope dearly that justice may soon find his killer.

The news is… well, it's news.

I send a calming smile Fleur's way, an unspoken message reassuring her that there's no possible way for them to find out who we are by magical signature alone.

It's not like a fingerprint as some would assume, but more like a feeling, a smell or taste that can be correlated to each individual witch or wizard.

Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the DMLE, one cannot be tracked by that alone.

No, they'll have a record of the spell used as well as a faint remnant of Fleur's magical signature, but unless they catch her casting that exact spell once more – in plain sight at that – they have no chance in hell of so much as guessing at who killed Bagman.

All in all, we're off scot-free.

Now all we have to do is get as much training in as possible before the third task happens in about two weeks.

In all honesty, I've never been quite so nervous before. Yeah, I've seen and done some serious shit in my life – let alone the last four years – but fighting Voldemort is going to be a task in and of itself.

Unlike Dumbledore, he's going to be resurrected back into his prime, and while I use the word prime very loosely in this regard what with the whole 'undead snake man' thing he'll have going on, he's someone Fleur and I cannot underestimate.

Once more, unlike Dumbledore, he's not afraid to use everything in his repertoire to bring us down. Every single bit of the knowledge he's allotted over his near eighty years of life will be sent our way in the most violent manner possible.

Makes me wish I had another four years to spend studying and training, and I'm sure even then I'd still feel terribly nervous.

My mastery over Blood Magic has taken great strides as of late. Having a suite of horrifically dangerous curses under my belt will be very useful when up against Voldemort, and the same goes for my ability with Necromantic spells.

Necromancy is still a funny subject for me. Not that I'm averse to using it, not at all. In fact, it's become my favourite branch of magic, something that would have sickened me greatly to know not even two years ago.

The spells just… they come to me, I can't really explain it. Every facet of the Black Art feels like I should have been casting it my whole life, like it's always been a part of me.

I don't know if that has to do with the fact that only I can use those spells, or if it runs deeper. That's something I've thought about a bit more lately, especially after coming to understand that while Death has always been open with me, he's never been open.

He gives information freely, but it feels like he's only supplying me with the information he wants me to know. I get it, there's some things that people can't know, but there's this niggling feeling at the back of my mind that tells me he's holding back something very, very important.

The plights of getting caught up with gods.

Scratching my chin, I glance towards the Slytherin table, surreptitiously watching and waiting for Draco Malfoy to leave the Hall.

Reason being, I need to sweep his mind to find out where he, and more specifically, daddy dearest live.

The location of Malfoy Manor is relatively public, something that I could, and have easily gotten my hands on. What I really need to know is the layout of the place. Where Lucius spends most of his time, or where his hideaways are and how to get to them. Most importantly, I need to know if there are any boltholes that he'll flee to in the case of an attack and whether I can trap them in advance.

Even a tracking charm set in places where he may go will be crucial in making sure that he dies and Fleur and I get away without a fuss.

Of course, we're not attacking him quite yet.

If things go as expected with Voldemort, we'll kill him in the graveyard. If that doesn't happen, we'll already have all the information we need on Malfoy Manor, somewhere that I know Lucius spent most of his time during fifth year.

Ipso facto, we'll be as prepared as possible if we've got to deal with the worst-case scenario.

War.

That's my primary fear.

The fear that everything that I've trained for, that Fleur has trained for amounts to nothing. That the future she's seen comes to pass once more.

How many people will die? What will happen to Britain? To my family?

That's something I can't allow to happen.

Draco gets to his feet and I push my thoughts aside, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he leaves.

"I'll see you all later, yeah? I've just got to go and do something," I say, pulling my bag over my shoulder and setting off behind him.

I nearly miss him turning to the left, heading off towards the dungeons. Walking a bit more briskly I tag along, smiling as I realize that he's made my job quite a bit easier.

The dungeons are littered with countless abandoned rooms, not to mention the fact that they're dungeons, meaning they're quite soundproof. The pathways and corridors wind and twist like a snake coiling in on itself, a maze of carved stone spreading out across the bottom of the castle.

As soon as we actually reach the dungeons proper, I silence my shoes, breaking into a run and stunning Draco from behind.

He collapses to the ground with a muted thud, and I cast a quick mobilicorpus on him. I continue on forward, Draco levitating in my wake until I'm comfortable with how far away I am from the Slytherin common room.

I pick a room at random, transfiguring a chair out of a bit of rubble and binding Draco to it. After frisking him and removing his wand, I throw a silencing charm at the door before resuscitating him with a whispered ennervate.

Spluttering loudly, Draco comes to, eyes still somewhat foggy. "Wh- what the hell is going on? Where am I?"

I kneel in front of him, poking him in the chin with my wand. "Wakey wakey little Draco," I taunt, lifting his head and staring into his eyes.

His eyebrows shoot up dramatically, mouth opening in surprise. "Potter?" His astonishment quickly morphs back into anger. "What do you think you're doing?"

Tilting my head questioningly, I ask, "What do I think I'm doing?" Tracing his jawline with my wand.

I watch as he looks down at the seemingly innocuous stick, a simple piece of wood that when combined with the right incantation and a little push…

Magic is a terrifying thing.

"I d- don't know, but you better stop it right now," he threatens, upper lip curling almost reflexively. "You of all people should know how powerful my father is."

I tut quietly. "Draco, Draco, of course I know how powerful your father is. That's the whole reason I've got you here all tied up, see?" I gesture forwards, reminding him of the situation he's in. "Have you been working on your occlumency Draco?"

He frowns, mouth opening slightly. "What?"

"I said. Have you been working on your occlumency, Draco?"

He blusters, looking almost offended. "Of course I have! As the next in line for the Malfoy family I've got to have a strong hold on my mind!"

"Good. That's good," I mutter, jabbing him in the forehead with my wand. "Wouldn't want this to be too easy, you know?"

Cross-eyed, he stares up in fear at the bit of wood digging into his skin. "Easy?"

"Legilimens."

I feel the immediate, familiar pressure of my mind. A cacophony of smells, shapes, sounds, and other feelings all culminating into a roiling mass of me.

With a tug, I reach forward, yanking on the other presence I feel on the forefront of my mind, attempting to tear a hole in it and allow myself entrance.

Draco shouts in pain, screaming as I bore a hole in his psyche.

He's good, that's for sure. Lucius probably began tutoring him in the mind arts at a young age, maybe as young as four or five. Hell, maybe even three, considering the general antipathy that Lucius regards others around him with.

I don't know if a man like him can love, truly love his son, as opposed to see him as a means to an end. Another nameless face in a long line of blond aristocrats. Another spoiled, soon to be dangerous man.

But he's never been truly attacked, never had someone try to pry his figurative skull open like a trepanation. He's never been attacked by someone who truly wanted to know what he keeps trapped and hidden within the recesses of his mind.

As such, he doesn't last very long.

I can feel his shields falling rapidly, his screams becoming more muted as I delve deeper and deeper into a tumultuous mess of memories that feel foreign, almost offensive, very evidently set apart from my own.

With one last cry, I fall through, rummaging through his thoughts like a burglar given free reign, paying no heed to his discomfort and pain as I search for the information that I require.

There.

Something hidden deep, deep in his mind, an almost ignorable cluster of whirling memories that have been sequestered away. Boltholes, escape methods, portkeys, even hidden artifacts of dubious, and insidious nature all contained in one effervescent bundle.

I gasp as the sheer extent of Lucius' planning begins to be revealed to me, and I can't help but worry that I've only been given a snippet of information, what bits and pieces the man could trust his son to know.

Two hideaways in France, and one a piece in Germany, Belgium, and Switzerland. Multiple secret passages running in and out of Malfoy Manor, each one covered in its own series of wards and traps, triggered by all manner of things. A magical pressure plate here, an enchanted trip-line there, all equally lethal in their own right.

I tally each and every bit of information up, ripping it from Draco's mind and storing it away in my own, keeping it put under metaphorical lock and key until I get the time to go over everything.

Like pulling my shoe from wet mud, I eject myself from Draco's mind, coughing and spluttering from the after effects of poring over his every thought.

Looking into his mind has given me a new perspective on the person who spent most of his time in my past life making my existence as painful as possible.

From a young age, a very young age, he's been trained by his father to be the same as him.

Stoic, unfeeling, and motivated to advance his families standing at any cost. Not to mention the near brainwashing he's gone through, having all compassion towards those 'lesser' stripped away with a fine blade, a hate for newcomers to the magical world seared into his mind like a cattle brand.

It doesn't make his behaviour acceptable, but it helps me understand just a little bit more.

He never really had a choice.

I look down at the now unconscious blond in front of me, a thin stream of blood trickling out of his nose and his head lolling over the back of the chair, face wet with sweat.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I hit him with the strongest obliviate I can muster, wiping his mind free of the last fifteen or so minutes.

I pull the marauders map out of my robes, quickly scanning over it and grunting in relief when I see that the dungeons are still empty.

With a smooth flick of the wrist, I heal Draco of his nosebleed, before levitating him. I walk us back to where I stunned him, throwing Death's cloak over myself and propping him up in the middle of the corridor, supported by magic.

Another murmured incantation and he's awake, shaking his head in confusion before heading off to do whatever he'd come down to do in the first place.

-::-

Tree roots snake over each other as they race towards me, knotted and twisting in impossible ways as they churn up earth and rock.

With a shout, I leap over them, enhancing my jump with a burst of wind and sending myself sailing well over the serpentine attack. Just as I reach the forest floor, I cushion my fall with another use of my elemental abilities, throwing up a wall of earth just as the roots come crashing towards me, the wall shuddering under the impact.

Jabbing sharply, I cut deep into my forearm, drawing out a thin line of shining red blood. Grimacing at the pain, I focus my magic to regenerate the cut, the skin quickly knitting itself up of its own volition. Twisting my wand, I fashion the blood into a spiked ball, spinning it rapidly.

I jump up and over the wall, quickly setting sights on Fleur.

Thrusting my hand outwards, I banish the chunk of crystalline blood towards her, following it up with a heavy volley of spells that home in like a hawk.

Cursing loudly in French, she sweeps her hand in front of herself, a curtain of flame melting the blood on impact.

I blink at the sudden shine, the light of the fire so bright as to sting my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I duck and roll, feeling the magic as it whizzes past my head and obliterates the tree behind me.

Or, so I thought.

I shriek as I'm grabbed from behind, spinning around to see gnarled limbs wrapped around my waist, like an Ent come to life.

Touching my hand to the bark, I push, a blackened void appearing underneath my palm and turning the writhing branch below it to motes of immaterial dust.

Collapsing to the ground with a thud, I groan loudly. "Jesus Christ that is some of the freakiest shit I've ever seen." With a grunt of exertion, I point my wand upwards, drawing a circle over my head before jabbing forward, a torrent of sickly green smoke rushing towards Fleur.

She throws up a glimmering, golden shield, the necrotic smoke eating away at the magical substance. Eyes wide, she claps her hands, pulling them up towards the sky, a wall of water forming around her. Somehow still making the gesture graceful, she throws her hands towards the ground, the water exploding outwards and taking the smoke with it, rushing loudly around the shield that I cast just in time.

I stab my wand forward, a line of rotted hands erupting out of the ground and grabbing aimlessly at the air above them.

Fleur lets a torrent of flame out of her open palm, incinerating the desiccated limbs in the blink of an eye.

"Aw come on! That's no fair," I grumble, chasing after her with earthen spikes.

"All's fair in love and war!" she shouts back, grinning at me.

I blink awkwardly, Fleur taking advantage of my momentary pause and catching me in the chest with a well-placed banisher, sending me flying backwards.

My entire body bends over the rock I come into contact with, ribs splitting under the pressure and sending a great, heaving gasp out of my mouth.

Coughing loudly, I send magic rushing through my veins, un-bruising muscle and pulling bone back into place. "Shit," I gasp, wiping a bit of spit from my mouth. "That was a hell of a hit."

Fleur rushes up to me, a worried look on her face. "Are you okay? I think I got ahead of myself there."

I nod shakily, pulling myself back to my feet. "I'm fine, I'm fine," I say, waving her off. "Something like that isn't enough to put me down."

She hums in agreement but doesn't look entirely convinced. "I think we should call it there, we've both used a lot of magic."

Letting out a slow breath, I nod once more. "Sounds good to me." I press my hand to my neck, stretching it out with a slight pop. "You've gotten a good handle on that druidic stuff."

"It's really useful," she admits, lazily flicking her wand and returning the animated branches and roots to their rightful place. "I'm sure it'll catch Voldemort by surprise."

I smile. "That and the fact that we'll be in the middle of a graveyard."

Fleur's eyes widen. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Yeah, those bastards are gonna' be in for a hell of a surprise." I continue stretching, pushing on the small of my back and groaning in relief. "Psychological warfare against Death Eaters… seems a little ironic, don't you think?"

She shrugs lazily. "It's no worse than what they've done to others."

"I know, I know. I just thought it was a little funny. I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when Voldemort's dad comes shambling out of his grave ready to tear them in half."

Fleur snorts loudly. "What a lovely image that paints."

"The loveliest of them all," I agree, throwing my arm around her waist. "Do you think we're ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be." She puts her arm over my shoulder, kissing me on the forehead. "Just… don't get hurt, alright?"

I put my hand over my heart. "I promise. If things get really messy and we have to get out of there, we will. Can't kill Voldemort if we're horribly maimed."

She squeezes my arm. "Good. I don't want to see any of that ridiculous selflessness from you, alright?"

"Ridiculous selflessness?" I ask, aghast. "Why, I never!"

"Hush you," she chides, playfully flicking me on the head. "You know what I mean."

-::-

I flip the page on my book, once more going over the hundreds upon hundreds of spells contained within Et Necromantium.

Taking a moment to just study the tome, I can't help but feel a small sense of accomplishment and pride.

It's carried me through so much in so little time, the spells within helping me to grow from a naïve teenager into the woman I am today, and while I don't exactly look too 'womanly' on the outside, I feel that I've managed to mature quite a bit in the last four years.

Glancing up, I take in the sight of Daphne lounging about, the girls having turned the Room of Requirement into their own personal common room, a place for us to spend time with each other without dealing with the issues that come with an inter-house friendship.

Smiling, I set the tome down and move over to join her, slumping into the couch next to her.

"Done reading?" she asks, looking down and steadily filing away at her nails.

I nod. "Done as done can be." Stretching my arms over my head, I close my eyes tight and sigh. "I just want to be as prepared as possible for tonight."

Daphne pauses momentarily, her idle grooming having been forgotten. "Yeah." She vanishes her conjured file, turning her attention towards me. "Are you sure everything is going to be fine?"

"I'm as sure as I'll ever be," I admit, scratching the back of my neck. "And it's not just me, Fleur has been practicing a ton as well. We're pretty much evenly matched if she focuses on using offensive magic, although most of her spells tend to gravitate towards controlling an opponent rather than putting them down."

"Is she really that strong? Are you really that strong?"

I shrug plaintively, gnawing at my bottom lip. "We're strong, that's for sure, but I don't really have anything to compare us to… if that makes sense?" I pause, resting my chin on my palm. "Think of it this way. I know we're strong, that's a fact. How strong? That's what I'm not sure about. The only person I've ever really fought properly was Dumbledore, and we were both holding back for fear of taking the school down on our heads."

"You fought Dumbledore?" she asks, aghast.

"Er- yeah, I did," I answer sheepishly. "This was a while back, end of second year. But yes, we fought, and I came out on top… although it took a lot of trickery on my part to make that work. I'm sure we'd be a much more even match now. Hell, I'd probably win seventy percent of the time, but he's old, very old. Dumbledore was a calamity in his time, and since then he's been complacent, he's lost his edge. I'm sure he could give Voldemort a run for his money simply because he understands how the man fights, but I don't have that advantage."

Daphne leans forward, interest shining in her eyes. "Didn't you… did you fight him in your last life?"

"Yeah, I fought him a few times," I admit. Glancing upwards, I recollect our few battles.

The Philosopher's Stone… the Chamber of Secrets, and the Graveyard.

Each and every one of those wasn't a true fight, a real, proper duel. Those were just… they were fleeting moments of fear and panic; my whole being focused on surviving and nothing more.

"And?" Daphne continues.

"I didn't really fight him. More like survived him, all things considered." I tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear, the blur of red having encroached upon my vision. "I was only a child then… eleven, twelve, fourteen… no prior experience in the magical world, just dumb, blind luck. I barely survived each of our encounters, but this time? This time it's different.

"I've been training, training my goddamn heart out nearly every day since I was brought back. Be it learning new spells, mastering them, or working on my ability to dodge and shield… I've been doing everything in my power to make sure that when it comes down to me and him, I'm the one to come out on top." I clench my fist, teeth gritted. "He and his fucking gang are going to be wiped off the face of the earth come tonight, and I'll be happy to see them gone."

Daphne gapes at me, mouth hanging open. "I… I've never seen this side of you."

I laugh. "Because I'm scared of how people will react. I'll admit that quite readily. People look at me and they see this snarky little red head. 'Whatever, just your average fireball,' is all they think." I shake my head, a quiet groan escaping me. "But deep down… there's a darkness in me. There's a fire. It's always there, always just below the surface, ready to escape. When it does?"

I let that statement hang for a moment, wondering whether I should continue.

Fuck it.

"I've killed a lot of people Daphne. A lot. Yes, they had it coming, but I still killed, and you know what? I'm fine with that. I'm fine with the fact that I'm a killer, that I'm a soldier. I was raised to be one. Hell, it was the only thing I could be, my childhood considered." I throw my head back onto the neck of the sofa, groaning. "My earliest memories are of being beaten. By the time I came to Hogwarts I had no sense of self, no idea who I was. All I'd ever been told was that I was a delinquent, something unwanted. So, I threw myself at whatever friendship would come my way, whatever love came my way.

"I became everything that the Dumbledore of that world wanted me to be. Naïve, complacent, and unaware of the true danger that I was in. All of that because he didn't want me to grow up the same as him, to go through what he did as a young adult. Instead, I killed a man at the age of eleven, nearly died fighting a Basilisk at twelve, had to fight off a horde of Dementors at thirteen, and was entered in this same fiasco of a tournament at fourteen."

I wipe my face, resting my head in my palm. "After I died… well, I sort of just went along for the ride. I think I was running on some sort of high for the first year I was back, still completely in awe of the fact that I was back, that I was still kicking." Clicking my tongue loudly, I continue. "But things kept happening. Somehow things got worse, my problems aging with me, becoming more and more… awful. Something in me snapped after that, and I killed someone, deliberately killed them. It was something that I had to do, needed to do… but after that? That little fire inside me grew and grew, and while I have it under control, there's still an inferno blazing away that just wants to get out."

"You've been through a lot," Daphne murmurs, reaching out and covering my hand with her own. "More than anyone should."

I snort loudly. "That's the life of a hero I guess… at least, an anti-hero in my case." Slapping my knee, I let out a long slow breath. "But yeah, that's the side of me that no one ever really sees. The Helene that will sooner slit a man's throat than try to convince him the error of his ways."

Daphne studies me, really looks at me, her eyes practically boring through my person and into my soul.

"I can't say that that doesn't scare me, but I get it."

"Huh?"

She lets go of my hand, clasping her own together and covering her mouth. "Look, I'm not as good with words as you are, never will be, but I get it." She tilts her head back, pausing. "You've been through a ton of shit, more than I, or anyone else would be able to handle. But you've still come out of it as you." She pokes me in the chest. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I like this side of you." She puts her hand up, one finger raised in the air. "Listen, let me finish. I like this side of you because I've always felt like you were hiding something. Like I never saw the whole Helene, you know?" Gesturing to me widely, she smiles. "But now I and everyone else know the real Helene, with all the bits and pieces, good or bad. That's something to celebrate."

I nod dumbly. "Never thought of it that way."

She pats me on the shoulder. "Because you're ungodly dense half the time."

"Hey!"

Daphne laughs loudly, holding her belly. "Come on! You know it's true."

Moaning in protest, I cover my face with my hands. "My own sister turned against me! What's the world coming to?"

"I'm just knocking some sense into you, is all," she denies, crossing her arms and attempting to look superior, nose raised and all.

I have to say, she does quite a good job of it.

"Whatever, whatever, I guess I needed that," I concede, squeezing her shoulder. "Thanks for that."

She smiles at me, flicking her wand and casting a silent tempus. "No problem, but let's get you out to the pitch, the task is starting in a half an hour."

I groan loudly, but admit defeat, climbing up and off the sofa and following Daphne out of the room.

We quickly make our way downstairs, where I'm confronted by the sight of the rest of my family.

"Where in gods name have you been?" Terra chides, muttering quietly as she checks me over. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

I blink. "Oh shite, I completely forgot! Sorry, Daphne and I were having a bit of a heart to heart."

"Don't drag me into this."

"Hey!"

"Enough you two," Terra continues, wagging her finger at us. She brings me into a hug, rubbing my back calmingly. "I just wanted to see you before the task, all of us did."

Octavius walks over and claps me on the shoulder. "Be safe out there tonight."

I nod seriously. "I will."

"That's all I can ask for… your mother and I love you, and no matter what happens tonight, we want you to know that."

Blinking awkwardly, I shake my head. "I… I love you too."

Terra kisses my forehead. "If anything goes wrong, anything, promise me you'll get out of there."

"I promise." I pause, looking around for the one missing person. "Where's Sirius?"

Octavius frowns. "He was just here…"

A sudden yelp alerts us to the current predicament a big, fluffy dog has found itself in, surrounded by cooing teenagers all fighting to get its attention.

"Ah."

Laughing loudly, I let go of Terra and push my way through the crowd. "Hey there Padfoot," I murmur, patting him on the head and attempting to put the fact that I'm patting my godfather on the head out of my mind.

I'm sure as shit not going to scratch his neck.

"Is that your dog?" One of the girls asks, a younger Hufflepuff.

"More or less," I answer, grinning at Sirius. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Barking in thanks, he races between my legs and off towards Octavius and Terra, the two of them looking down at him with no small amount of exasperation.

"Good luck in the task!" the girl shouts after me as I leave.

"Thanks!" I say, giving her a quick wave in reply.

I jog back over to everyone. "Come on, I haven't got much time."

Terra sighs loudly. "Well, lets be off then."

We quickly make our way over to the pitch, and I catch sight of Fleur on the main path, waiting for us.

"Hey!"

She smiles widely, rushing over and pulling me into a hug. "Are you ready?" she whispers, her breath hot on my ear.

Holding back a shudder, I reply. "As ready as I'll ever be. You?"

"The same." She lets go of me, looking up at my family. "It's good to see you, Mister and Missus Greengrass."

Octavius waves her off. "No need for any of that, it's Octavius to you."

She nods, Terra offering the same. "Thank you."

"Hush dear, there's no need to be so cordial," Terra states, hugging a somewhat confused Fleur. "Keep my baby safe out there, alright?"

"I'll do everything in my power," she answers, awkwardly returning the hug.

Terra lets go, smiling thinly at the two of us, her tension getting the better of her. "We'll be in the stands… I'll see you tonight Helene, Fleur."

"See you later, Mum, Dad."

Fleur grabs my hand and starts to lead me towards the pitch but makes an odd turn towards the main stands where the judges are sitting. "What's going on?" I ask.

"My family is here, and they wanted to meet you."

I blanch. "They what?"

She chuckles at my sudden bout of fear. "It was a surprise. I didn't expect them to show up, but they started asking me about you."

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," I mutter, noticing the glint of a very familiar silver standing out amongst the crowd.

"This is what you're scared of? Not Voldemort, but my parents?"

"Fighting I know, this? This I have no idea." I pause to think. "Do they know about you?"

Fleur falls silent. "No… I haven't told them."

"Shit. They're going to kill me when they find out."

Laughing once more, Fleur leads me over to them.

I recognize the small blonde girl hiding between her parents immediately, Gabrielle looking the same as I remembered her, bright hair and a small, pixie like face.

Fleur's parents are daunting, to say the least.

Her father is a heavyset man, with a large salt and pepper beard and tidily styled hair, a broad smile on his face.

Her mother is what scares me.

Tall, collected, and undoubtedly a powerful woman. She evokes a sense of strength in the way she carries herself, chin held high and rigid, eyes scanning over me like a hawk studies it's prey.

What with Veela being an avian species, that doesn't surprise me.

"Maman, Papa? Voici Hélène," she says, introducing me with a slight wave. "Helene, this is my father, Clément, and my mother Appoline." She points towards Gabrielle. "And I believe you've already met my little sister, Gabby."

"It- it's good to meet you," I stutter, cursing myself for being so terribly awkward all of a sudden.

Get it together Helene!

Clément laughs boisterously, patting me on the shoulder. "No need to look so worried!" he cheers, smiling at me. "It's lovely to finally meet you my dear."

"Bonsoir," Appoline intones, reaching forward to shake my hand.

I take her own and shake it briefly, nodding at her. "Bonsoir."

Fleur chuckles at my horrendous accent. "You don't need to say it that way, you know?" I glare at her, just causing her to laugh even more. "It's good to see you all."

Clément hugs her. "Same to you my dear, it's been too long." He turns his attention towards me. "So, tell me about the little lady here who's seemingly captured your heart?"

Blushing furiously, Fleur slaps her dad on the arm, while Gabrielle giggles at her plight. "Père!"

"Enough teasing my love," Appoline interjects, placing a dainty hand on his shoulder. "I'm happy to finally meet you Hélène and put a face to the name. Imagine our surprise when we found out that our little girl was dating the Girl Who Lived?"

I rub the back of my head sheepishly. "Eh, I find that label a bit more frustrating than anything."

Appoline's eyes shine with approval. "Agreed. I can't imagine how terribly obnoxious it is to have people view you through a moniker."

"I'd think that if anyone understood, it would be Veela."

She smiles at me. "Absolutely. I was lucky to have met Clément," she states, sending a loving glance her husband's way. "It's not so often that we get to meet someone who sees us for who we are, rather than who they imagine us to be. Veela more so, what with our gifts."

Just as she says that, a bell rings loudly, signalling the beginning of the task. "It was great to meet all of you, and good to see you again Gabrielle," I offer, smiling at Fleur's very shy little sister. "I'll hopefully be seeing more of you."

"The same to you," Appoline says, nodding regally. She turns towards Fleur. "Fais attention à toi, ma chère."1

"Oui, à tout à l'heure," she replies, hugging her mother for all she's worth. "Pareillement, Papa, Gabrielle."2

Fleur and I leave the Delacours, walking hand in hand towards our lone competitor, Cedric standing towards the front of the maze, his shoulders sagging.

"You ready?" I ask.

"Ready as ever," Fleur states.

1 - Fais attention à toi, ma chère: Stay safe, my dear.

2 - Oui, à tout à l'heure / Pareillement, Papa, Gabrielle: I will, I'll see you later. Same to you, Father, Gabrielle.

Holy shit! We're finally wrapping up this arc and getting into the last! I expect the story to be finished within the next 10-11 chapters, give or take depending on how much content is crammed into each one.

DocTrench: Don't worry about that, first paragraph is gonna' be Cedric getting knocked out.

SeaweedBrain18: The pettiness will be covered during the upcoming arc, and we'll definitely be stepping a good bit away from canon when that happens.

Gothic Rain: Yeah, that's a good way of putting it.
When I first began writing the story, I'd only been reading fanfiction for about a month or so, and because of that my experience with it was solely in cliché fests, a la Robst, James Spookie, and Methods.
Fourth year was the goal, but everything in between just sort of… happened, I guess. Yes, it was planned, but I hadn't written in years, so the end result was supremely lacking. Took me a while, but I managed to pick up the quality by the end of second year/beginning of third.

Feauxen: I'm glad you enjoy it! I've done my best to write about things that I felt Rowling couldn't include in her stories, considering the age of her audience as the series was being written. That, and I didn't want to go full grimdark. Never go full grimdark (unless you're writing a 40k story).