Ingenio ab Artifex (Formerly: Flowers for Your Grave)

by JaimeJabs

There have been many rumours surrounding me and my life—especially my love life. So, after due consideration—and a few well-aimed words from our resident bookworm—I have decided to publish my autobiography. For any questions and questionable charms placed on your copy of my self-updating autobiography, feel free to owl my publisher, Jaime.

7. Episode VI

A/N: First, I want to start by saying I do not, in any way or form, refuse scientific discoveries regarding the rising temperatures across the world and the dangers we are facing because of our careless destruction of nature. I wrote the small paragraph in this episode regarding Global Warming to further demonstrate the difference the world this story is in from ours. Because when magic is real and scientists aren't even aware of many of the wonders of the world, like in this case, their predictions are bound to be wildly inaccurate. So, for all intents and purposes, J. K. Rowling created a world where the fear of Global Warming exists yet the actuality of it differs from ours. Go, Jo!

Oh, and the first chapter of this episode involves a POV change. I did this because… Well, why not? And because this story is about Fleur to a large extent and not giving her a chance to tell a part of her story, no matter how small, felt unfair. The POV change won't be often but there will be parts of the rest of the story told through Fleur's eyes.

And as always, even if untold so far, thank you for reading and if you have suggestions or criticism regarding anything from plot elements to characterisation and grammar, please do share because I'm always happy to listen.

One last thing before the story begins: I am currently without a beta, which might be obvious from the errors I've committed, and will welcome a volunteer with open arms.

Cue the Harry Potter theme...

Chapter 1: Uncomfortable Questions

January 2, 1995

Life isn't supposed to be this complicated.

I had a plan, a relatively simple one. I would win the Triwizard Tournament, graduate from Beauxbatons with the highest marks of my year and use the aforementioned accomplishments and my Veela heritage to get a job with the goblins as an enchanter or a curse-breaker. By saving the money I earn for a few years, I would have enough money and experience to move out of my parents' house and open a store selling products I enchant, making a name for myself and earning enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life.

Simple, right?

Well, as I found out over the last few months; Fate is a bastard and Drama is a bitch.

I can tell you exactly when things got out of control: when that damnable Goblet of Fire spewed out a fourth name for the Triwizard Tournament. Ignoring the sexism inherent in that name, that stupid artefact should have selected only three names and for d'Arc's sake, how hard it is to count to three?

Ugh.

And like that wasn't enough, the goblet selected the boy I drunkenly slept with just this past summer. Maybe that was when things started to go wrong? Because no matter my outwardly reaction to the night we spent together, it was a great one and being who I am, those are scarce.

But if I am being honest with myself, the aftermath of the champion selection was the beginning of my obsession with him.

He not only denied any involvement with his- for lack of a better word- illegal entrance to the tournament, but he did so by unashamedly yelling at Madame Maxime. Madame Maxime who, when angry, can scare off even the most powerful man and make the smartest people feel like misbehaving children.

And she was speechless! If I wasn't so shocked myself, I would have laughed at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed look when she was reprimanded like a misbehaving child. A reversal of roles if ever there was one.

The tale James, now Harry, spun was unbelievable, to say the least, and I'm not ashamed to admit I wasn't completely sold until I asked him a few days later near the aptly named Black Lake. It was the resigned fatigue in his eyes that convinced me more than his words.

Then he asked me out. The boy who sent me an almost-naked drawing of myself, who I would compete against in a tournament of a lifetime, asked me out without fear in his eyes and a hitch in his voice.

I said no, of course. I had a plan, and there was no room for dating a fourteen-years-old in that plan, no matter how much fun he was throughout that night. I may dislike most of what comes out of my mother's mouth but she is right about one thing; reputation is everything; and dating a boy three years my junior and with a reputation such as his would ruin mine.

Still, I found my eyes wandering from time to time, finding his form from across the room during meal times and listening to his laughter and jokes while he ignored the rest of the world.

And I could tell ignoring the constant scrutiny wasn't a practiced motion for him; that he, as he said vehemently by the lake, hated the attention. Yet, in a manner opposite of the one I had to implement a few months into puberty, he continued his life with the same bright smile instead of turning cold towards his peers.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a pang of envy for the ease with which he did so and didn't doubt my decision to distance myself from my gossiping and drooling peers except for less than handful friends. Still, our situations are different enough that I can understand where the difference in outlook stems from and can't find it in me to truly regret my distaste of the masses.

I had a good laugh at his drunken state when I heard his god awful singing in the middle of a cold November night, but the knowledge of Dragons overshadowed the fun of the night. And that knowledge was almost enough to shake my confidence in my victory in a tournament with jaw-droppingly high mortality rate.

Still, I am nothing if not talented and resourceful, and came up with a perfect way to overcome my deadly foe. It wasn't easy, singing a Dragon to sleep, but I performed admirably and was sure I'd celebrate an early lead in the tournament.

Then he came out of the tent in that ridiculous costume of his and blew the competition, including me, out of the water with his performance. I'm not ashamed to say I underestimated him, and who could blame me? Here was a fourteen-years-old boy, transfiguring bridges and conjuring high-detailed illusions of rock-bands as if it was another Wednesday.

I hadn't believed him when he claimed to have no intention of going near the Dragon. At least, I hadn't believed he could complete the task without going near it. Well, now I know better. His performance also served to raise my interest even more.

His second and last offer of a date was a sweet one, especially compared to the countless morons that came before and after him. Two flowers; simple yet showcasing his talents once again with the Switching charm applied so fluidly as if to appear transfiguration.

His return to my table fifteen minutes later was a surprise but not as much as the reason behind it. His deduction of my knowledge in enchanting, again, surprised me and I said yes after a quick look to his design.

That may have been a mistake but in hindsight, a mistake I don't regret.

Even while his back was turned, hearing the slight desperation in his voice as he told the story of how he killed a Basilisk- a d'Arc-be-damned Basilisk- pulled at my heartstrings in all the right places and I found myself getting dressed the next morning in a hurry once again.

Second strike.

What sealed the deal in my mind and what made my attraction to him undeniable was watching him dance with another girl, ignoring my presence completely as he laughed with her. I ended up in his bed. Again. And I couldn't even blame the alcohol this time as I went to him with the purpose of seducing him before I was even tipsy.

Yes, obsession is the right word, I think.

And now, I miss his smell as I lay in my bed in France when it was only yesterday we said goodbye to each other.

How did I end up like this? Dating… No, not dating. Regularly sleeping with a boy- because he is a boy even if he acts like he finds the term insulting- who is my competition and the darling of British Magical World?

How will I explain this when it inevitably comes out? I don't believe for a second we could keep it a secret; and even if we did, for how long? He's right in that everything he does is under scrutiny and I'm not a stranger to the spotlight either.

What will my mother say? What would dad think? What sinister lies will the public come up with when they find out the Boy-Who-Lived is dating an older Veela?

Life isn't supposed to be this complicated.

-FD-

January 5, 1995

"Fleur! Are you ready?" Gabrielle shouts from downstairs, excited to eat at a high-grade restaurant like an adult. The adorable little troublemaker is always excited and sometimes, it is difficult to keep up with her.

Still, I love her dearly, more so than I ever loved or can love anyone and am happy to suffer the exhaustion. "Yes, yes! Stop shouting, you hyperactive little devil!" I yell back, knowing how much she hates when anyone calls her 'devil.'

I hear her muffled, age-appropriate curse and turn back to the dressing mirror with a smile on my lips. To say I look good would be an understatement and before I can stop myself, an image of Harry's face when he saw me in my dress before the ball flashes before my eyes.

Shit.

"Aimee!" Gabrielle squeals, drawing me out of my reluctant fantasy. "Are you excited to eat at Le Gabriel?"

"I sure am," Aimee responds just as enthusiastically as I descend the stairs. Those two are so alike, I sometimes worry Gabrielle is more like Aimee than me. But then again, maybe that's why I get along so well with both energetic girls. "Are you sure you are up to this, little angel? This is an adult restaurant with boring food even if you share a name with the chef."

Gabrielle huffs and I wonder if it's at her second most hated nickname or in exasperation at the question. I reach the first floor just in time to see Gabrielle stick out her tongue at my fellow champion and snicker, gaining both their attention and the three parents'; my mother, father and Aimee's father. Sadly, her mother passed away in an unfortunate accident when we were twelve.

"You look beautiful, my darling," my father praises as I walk towards them with perfect posture, earning a nod from mother.

I don't get the chance to respond as Gabrielle butts in, "daddy's right. You look like you are going out to find a husband."

Aimee snorts from behind me. "I highly doubt it."

I turn around and glare at my friend, doing my best to suppress the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Oh? Did my darling daughter find herself a worthy boy in Britain?" I hear my mother drawl, her tone challenging and cutting, a far cry from her words.

"I didn't say that," Aimee answers in a high-pitched voice, a blush on her cheeks, though I doubt anyone believes her.

Gabrielle speaks again before anyone can, "who is it? Is he handsome? Is he smart? How old is…"

"If we don't leave soon, we will miss our reservation," father cuts in before she can ask the rest of her no doubt endless questions, making me look up at him with gratitude. He gives me a wink and turns around to lead us out of the modest three-storey we call home, to the small garden.

We live in south of Lyon and the restaurant is in Paris so this will be the longest distance I've apparated. I can't say I'm too excited about it as the distance means the quick journey will be even more jarring.

I hate apparating, preferring floo travel anytime but in this case, floo would mean ashes going in everywhere- I mean everywhere, it's like sand- and that would ruin our dresses. Father checks his grip on the youngest of our group as she clings to him like a monkey, then he turns on the spot, disappearing with the softest bang, a testament to his experience with this form of transportation.

I turn on my heels and throw myself across the distance, ignoring my stomach's protests. A second that feels more like five minutes pass and I land lightly on my feet. I may not like apparating but I look damn good and composed when I do it. It may sound vein but that's something I can say without an ounce of doubt and I am proud of it. Even with magic I'm barely adequate at, I have an eerie talent to make things look effortless.

After checking myself to ensure everything is in place, I step out of the alley. When Aimee arrives five seconds later, we walk the short distance to the famous restaurant. Our wait is short thanks to a subtle charm placed on the staff by my father and a sommelier takes our drink orders after a few minutes of menu gazing.

The waiter, a blonde in his early twenties, arrives at our table to take orders, starting from my father, though his eyes rarely leave me. Normally, it wouldn't bother me but the intensity of his barely hidden glances make me double check that the charms on my bracelet are working.

This is the fourth time I've charmed a bracelet for this purpose and now, I'm proficient at it; this one taking only two hours and working perfectly.

When my turn comes, I give my order with a cold voice and with a glare, making it clear he needs to back off and earning me a look from mother for my behaviour.

I can hear the unsaid words in that look; 'a proper lady does not glare, Fleur,' 'never show emotion, Fleur.'

Gah!

As the waiter leaves the table, so does the silent tension brought on by my discomfort and conversation picks up again. The talk stays mostly focused on the work my father and Mr Beaufort do in Law Enforcement; with my father as the Head of Auror Division and Aimee's as the Head of Civil and Muggle Order Division.

For as long as I've known, our families have been close since both men entered the Auror Division around the same time and was partners for over fifteen years. They still work together closely for joint operations. Though they deny coordinating to make sure we were born around the same time but I don't buy it. If that's true, then the ten days difference between Aimee's birthday and mine is one hell of a coincidence.

I listen to the conversation with half an ear as we wait for the food so I miss whatever it is Mr Beaufort said to my father that has him, and everyone at our table, looking at me with surprise. I glance up from my wine glass when the silence settles and ask, "what?"

My father raises an eyebrow, but it's mother who speaks. "Is it true you took part in a duelling tournament? In Ibiza, no less?"

Oh, right. I didn't tell them about my brief jaunt to the island paradise. It wasn't because I was afraid they would be angry with me for duelling, a sport mother detests. I couldn't explain how I made the trip with my allowance without telling them about Harry.

I glance at Aimee, hoping for an inspiration or a way out of the conversation but find nothing but a hopeless shrug from my best friend. When I turn back, mother's disbelief has morphed into anger though my father's surprise is still there without judgement. "I did. I even made it to the second round though Anneliese Steinhäusl did defeat me soundly," I answer with a nonchalant shrug, playing down the affair as much as I can.

My father's other eyebrow joins the first as he leans forward on his seat, looking at me with wide-open eyes. "You duelled Steinhäusl the Charming? The legendary auror?"

I nod with a small smile, ignoring the narrowed eyes of mother in favour of my father's unbelieving enthusiasm. "I did, and she went on to win the tournament, defeating the likes of Filius Flitwick so I'm not too broken up about it."

"And why, pray tell, did you take part in a duelling tournament of all things?" mother asks, her tone pinched and nostrils flaring.

"And more importantly, how was the tournament? Who else did you see duel or duelled against yourself?" Mr Beaufort jumps in. It's obvious from the excitement in his eyes he has been dying to ask me countless questions about the event.

I glare at mother, challenging her. "Because I wanted to test myself to see if I'm ready for the duelling portion of the Triwizard Tournament. I didn't want to get caught flat-footed when I walk onto the stage," I answer, before turning my attention to my best friend's father. "Well, I watched Johan Hoff, Elizabeth Wangen, Leonardo D'alto, Leopoldo Paola, Cenk Gözüpek and Camelia Cèspedes. Flitwick and Steinhäusl were the most impressive though. Professor Flitwick is incredibly fast, both at his feet and with his spell casting and Steinhäusl used many spells no one heard of."

"I bet. If the rumours are true, she has the uncanny ability to craft spells on the go which would make every spell she casts unheard of until she casts," my father explains with a snort.

"I heard Harry Potter was in the tournament too," Mr Beaufort speaks, leadingly. I glance around to see Aimee with a hand on her mouth, trying to hide her laughter while my father leans further on his seat, apparently interested in the gossip about the famous boy. Gabrielle listens to the conversation in rapt attention though I doubt she understands the tension between mother and me or why the two men are so curious about a bunch of people with foreign names.

"He was. He lost to his teacher in Quarter Finals." I keep my answer short, hoping to avoid further mention of Harry unless I let on the full extend of my knowledge about his talents and activities.

"Was he as good as Daily Prophet made him out to be? I know his performance in the first task was impressive if my men in rotation in Britain to be believed," my father asks.

I hear Aimee snort but refuse to look her way lest I put her on the spot. I am capable of spinning my way out of this mess but my friend is a notoriously bad liar, unable to keep from blushing whenever she tells lies or half-truths. "Definitely," I say with conviction. "He was undefeated until Flitwick stunned him with a blind shot after fifteen minutes. I doubt I can defeat him in our duel unless I train harder than he already does, and he spends most of his time training."

"You make it sound like this professor, Flitwick, defeated him by luck," mother comments dismissively, suspicion leaking from her voice and features.

I consider my answer for a moment. "I think the professor would have won either way, but he himself confessed that the stunner that took Harry out was cast blindly as the boy was invisible."

Mother snorts, causing me to roll my eyes at her unsurprisingly dismissive attitude to a boy she doesn't even know yet. She opens her mouth to say something, a dangerous glint in her eyes, but the waiter chooses that moment to bring our food, smell alone making my mouth water.

I'm glad for the distraction because calling Harry by his first name was a mistake. Even while the rest of the night involves less dangerous subjects, the looks mother throws me is enough to inform me she caught my slip.

Shit.

-FD-

January 7, 1995

Returning to the Hogwarts is an experience I doubt is comparable to anything in the world. Now, I know I bad mouthed the school many times but now that I'm back; I realise how much of a home it feels like.

I love the palace that is Beauxbatons and doubt there are many buildings in the world, if any, that could compare to it in terms of beauty, not even Hogwarts. Yet, as the horseless carriages pull us to the castle proper after two weeks and as I watch the imposing castle loom over the mountain range, my breath hitches at its magnificence and warmth. Beauxbatons is beauty; cold and aloof while Hogwarts is down-to-earth, homey and… alive.

If I were to use a metaphor for the difference between two schools, I'd liken the palace to a model one can see in a magazine while the castle is the girl next door; not as pretty as the women in the papers yet has more character and is all the more real for it.

Perhaps that is why Briton Magicals love Hogwarts so much, refusing to allow a single bad word spoken against the school, while us, French, show a fraction of the same loyalty to our school. Because how can you compare love with fantasy?

I shake myself out of my musings and step out of the carriage as it pulls near the castle. The rain is pouring down from the skies vengefully, so I cast a targetless Water-Repelling charm, causing my wand to act as the handle of an invisible umbrella that keeps me dry.

Trudging through the muddy grounds reminds me why I complained so much about Britain and makes me chuckle as I finally reach the giant doors. Wordlessly ending the charm over my head, I cast a cleaning charm on my outer robes and boots as Aimee does the same next to me.

Samantha is an orphan, one of many living victims of the civil war in Britain that affected even the main continent, and elected to stay in the school despite Aimee's relentless invites to her family's home. She's the most studious one among us and choose the highly impressive library of Hogwarts.

We find her reading on the Hufflepuff table with a boy- British if my guess is correct- and absentmindedly eating dried grapes. Aimee is the first one to reach the table, skipping ahead of me and hugs the distracted girl out of her chair with the force of her momentum. "Sam! I've missed you."

I reach the still intertwined girls a few moments later to see a healthy blush on 'Sam's face. Apparently, the boy isn't just a friend she made in one of her long jaunts to the library.

Oh, goody! A teasing material.

Now, now. Don't be so quick to judge me. I've dealt with enough teasing from the collected girl to earn my chance at revenge. Still, I am patient enough to wait until the dark-haired boy with a similar blush on his face leaves the earshot.

"I missed you too, Pixie," Samantha responds once the two girls separate. "Welcome back to the jolly old Britain." She says the last part with a smirk aimed at me.

"It still rains. No wonder the Muggles worry about Global Warming. This country steals all the rain from the rest of the world," I joke with my nose in the air.

Don't worry, I'm not a Muggle hater and even find most of their accomplishments inspiring, especially in arts and telecommunication. But, they know so little about the world compared to us, Magicals, that I can't find their fear of rising temperatures to be adorable.

The shorter girl and I hug before I take a seat next to her after taking off my outer robe while Aimee walks over to the other side and sits next to the silent boy. "Who are you?" the excitable girl asks without a preamble, a big smile on her face to ease the boy's mind.

"Ken- eh- Kenneth O'Marley," the boy answers, his nervousness clear across his whole being, not just his stutter.

Aimee's large smile turns to a gentle one of warmth. "And I'm Aimee Beaufort. Nice to meet you." She shakes the boy's hand before pointing at me with her thumb. "And that po-faced beauty is Fleur Delacour. Don't let her cold looks fool you. Deep down, she's a sweetheart." Boy nods at me but turns back to Aimee with a look of disbelief at her last words.

I can't help snort at the look of the boy and Aimee's next words. "It's buried very, very deep. Archeologists are still searching for it."

Kenneth nods as if that makes any sense. "Well, nice- eh- nice to meet you both."

"You too, Kenneth," I respond, shocking the boy once again, then turn to Samantha who was watching us with an amused smile. "So, how was Hogwarts without your two best friends to entertain you?"

"Wouldn't you know? Hogwarts is more fun without you two," she answers.

"Now, I'd believe it if you didn't include me in the fun-hating group," Aimee answers before throwing a grape in her mouth, eating it with a smirk.

I sniff and turn away from them. "I'll have you know I'm one of the most fun people to have around." My lips curl down in a pout when they snort in disbelief. "I am too."

"While I'm sure some people may think so," Samantha begins, giving me a pointed look. "The rest of the world, a group I'd like to call 'normals,' think spending your time complaining about everything and sneering at most male population is outside the scopes of what we call 'fun.'"

"Speaking of, what did your parents say about the duelling tournament and…" she trails off, glancing at the reading boy next to her.

I huff at the reminder and shrug. "My father was enthusiastic about hearing more about my duels and teaching me a few hexes. I think he enjoys finally being able to teach me magic, even just a few simple spells." I glare at Aimee as I continue. "Mother, on the other hand, needled me about whether I met any boys with some well-planned entrapping questions, reminding me how a lady should act and so on. Thank god she'll have no time to visit anytime soon, with Grandma still on vacation in Sydney and no one else to focus on the store."

"I think your grandmother deserves a gift for her well-timed vacation," Samantha comments not-so sarcastically. "What? Your mother is a cold-hearted bitch," she says with brutal honesty when I glance at her.

I consider getting angry but decide against it. "Meh. Can't deny there is truth to it."

A group of men, their ages ranging from mid-twenties to late thirties, enters the hall, laughing uproariously and drawing our attention. None of them are school age which makes me wonder why they are here but I shrug my curiosity off, turning my attention back to my friends.

"Who do you think they are?" Aimee whispers, leaning forward.

Oddly, it's Kenneth who answers, reminding us of his presence. "Curse breakers from Gringotts." He eeps and blushes when we turn our attention to him. "They've been here for the past two days, doing something in Black Lake."

"That reminds me, what do you think they'll take from you?" Samantha asks in a hushed voice.

Aimee and I shrug at the same time then grin at each other. "I don't know but they better stay out of my jewellery box," Aimee says, trying to sound threatening but failing miserably. Instead, she just looks cuter, making us snicker. "Don't laugh! I'm serious. If one piece from that box goes missing, I might rip someone's arms off."

We laugh harder. "As long as you don't go around slapping people with your flippers," Samantha answers once she stops laughing, causing me to laugh even harder.

"I'm not a penguin!" Aimee yells with a red face, attracting attention. She buries her head in her hands. "I hate you both."

I don't care what she says, her repeated reaction to seeing snow proves she is part penguin.

"Na-ah, you love us," I pat her on the arm, misjudging and pushing her hands as her head hits the table due to sudden loss of support.

Samantha's high-pitched laughter attracts even more attention while I put a hand on my mouth to stop myself from laughing, knowing I'm guilty enough as it is.

"Ow!" Aimee cries rubbing her forehead and glaring at me. "Why would I love you when all you do is insult me, laugh at me and abuse me?"

"Because I'm cute?" I ask, giving her a doe-eyed look with a charming smile.

She snorts and shakes her head at me. "Yeah. Look at that face. How can I ever stay mad at you?"

"No one can," I answer with absolute certainty, enjoying the simple banter while I have less eyes on me thanks to the holidays.

Samantha opens her mouth but is interrupted by a throat clearing from behind me. Even without turning, I can guess what's coming. I school my face and turn around. It's a redheaded boy, one of the curse breakers if I have to guess as he looks far too old to be in school, mid-twenties at least. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Bill. Bill Weasley," he introduces himself as takes a seat next to me, earning a raised eyebrow from me at the presumptuousness. "I was sitting two tables over when I heard you and thought I should come over and assure you I think you are absolutely stunning." He finishes with a charming smile I'm sure would have my panties on the floor if I were anyone else. Especially with his roguish looks.

"And I looked stupid enough not to recognise my beauty when I look into a mirror?" I ask, my tone barely polite.

"Even mirrors can't convey your beauty enough," he disagrees, his smile widening despite the cold welcome. I say nothing, giving him a bored look that has no effect on him. "I never got your name."

I sigh. At least he's not drooling or yelling at me like his brother did.

-Flowers for Your Grave-

Chapter 2: Wasted Genius

January 11, 1995

The Weasley Twins, or as I'd like to call them: Pettigrew twins, are geniuses. There is no denying that. I may dislike their high-handed methods and attitude towards me since my coming out party à la Halloween curse, but I can't deny there is a method to their madness.

I've seen many of their pranks in action over the years and considering the low budget they are working with, the products they developed have superb quality and effects that would have any entertainer salivating.

And they prove their brand of genius, much to my annoyance, once again in the form of a spiked tea.

It happens when Hermione asks what I did after the tournament in Spain. I open my mouth with intent to share details of my trip to New York and Salem. "I don't take coffee, I take tea, my dear. I like my toast done on one side," I sing, my eyes wide as my lips disobeys my command. "And you can hear it in my accent when I talk; I'm an Englishman in New York."

"Okay," Hermione says to my serenade, rolling her eyes. "A simple New York would have sufficed. No need to bring Sting into it."

"It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing," I answer, my voice cracking as I, or more accurately, my mouth tries to imitate Nina Simone's wonderful voice. "It don't mean a thing; all you got to do is sing!"

Ron snickers next to me, joined by Neville and Katie and soon, everyone around me. I look around, confusion and surprise dominating my features until my eyes happen upon the twins' smug grins as they laugh at me.

Still, anger isn't my first response. No, my first response is a grudging respect because the magic controlling my mouth right now is a masterpiece. It isn't Cantis jinx. That makes the target sing a song of the caster's choosing and is easy to counter. No, this is different.

I have complete control of my brain functions but my mouth responds only in songs I know by heart which means the magic is affecting my mind as well and that's all kinds of troubling.

Whether they know it, the idiot duo is testing my Occlumency and now that I know exactly what kind of magic I am up against, I should be able to resist. At least, in theory, because no matter how prestigious I am in many forms of magic, Occlumency is one that requires discipline and organised mind while I am prodigious in many areas of magic; disciplined, I am not, and more importantly, my mind is far from organised.

One thing I have going for me is I am far too stubborn to fail at something so important, at least in the long term, so I put on a gargantuan effort to my next words, limiting the magic's effect on me to single words and phrases instead of complete verses. "I. Think. Someone," I say in broken sentences and with great effort, my voice changing from tone to tone depending on the song I choose the words from. I nod towards the twins. "Put a spell on. Me."

"I gathered that much," Hermione says, holding her snickers with great effort if the redness of her face is any sign. I love that girl. She'd never laugh at my plight. "A visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order, don't you think?"

I nod, refusing to open my mouth more than necessary. The twins got me good this time and deserve a good revenge. I must plan. And when I'm done, they will wish they never crossed me.

Hermione gives me a worried look as we traverse the corridors in search of a cure, my crazy laughter alarming her.

-HP-

January 13, 1995

I've done it. After three days of research, a lot of begging Hermione to brew a relatively unknown potion, modifying spells and conducting small test runs to see if the complicated pieces of magic would work together; my plan is in motion.

The idea itself is not original and it needn't be. I just took the twins' latest prank on me and made it better. Now, all I have to do is wait for them to come to breakfast and when they walk past the threshold to Great Hall, they will feel my wrath.

Before I can practise my evil laughter, a yawn escapes me again so I take a large sip of my disgustingly sweet tea to stay awake. I've spent much of last night casting necessary magic and forcing the sleeping twins to drink the necessary potion. It took time and sneaking around, causing me to lose sleep though if it works, and I have no reason to fear it won't, it will be worth it.

"I can't believe you convinced me to help you in your harebrained scheme," Hermione complains again, looking around to see if there are any professors spying.

"Now, now, Hermione. We both know you enjoy a good rule-breaking session as much as I do," I drawl, fighting off another yawn. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"I do not!" she exclaims, scandalised.

Ron snorts unbelievingly. "This comes from the girl who used a time-turner to spend extra time in library and brewed a highly illegal potion to sneak into Slytherin base."

I nod in agreement to my best friend's words. "Ron's right. You are a rule-breaker. If anything, you are worse than I am."

Hermione shakes her head. "No way. You have no respect for the rules. I at least adhere to the spirit with which they were written."

"That's even worse," I disagree. "I admit, I care little for rules that don't pertain to the wellbeing of others while you care a great deal about them yet you still break it." I think of a good metaphor. "It's like cheating on a spouse. I cheat on a wife I don't like while you cheat on a husband you love. Mine is a marriage of convenience and neither side expects devotion."

Next to me, Ron gasps in an exaggerated shock, pointing an accusing finger at the exasperated girl. "You are a cheater! I can't believe I thought you were a good girl."

Hermione sniffs and looks away, corners of her mouth twitching up though she fights the smile. Ron and I grin at each other before turning back to our plates.

I spy the twins from the doorway and look around the hall and see there are enough witnesses. Good. I want their humiliation to go down in history. It is tiring to have to expect attacks from all corners, and I hope this will serve as a reminder to everyone I'm not to be trifled with.

The duo stop single step into the hall, a confused expression on their faces. That is the Jelly-Brain jinx, muddling their mind, making it harder for them to think and easier for my magic to take hold.

A second later, a puff of smoke erupts from the ground and form around them, revealing their changed attires when it dissolves. Instead of the usual school robes, they are now wearing corsets, one in pink, the other in powder blue; each completed with skin-tight pants and high-heels. I don't know if you knew it but Riddikulus doesn't work only on Boggarts. It affects the appearance of any living thing.

Their groggy looks and new appearance garner laughter from the student population but this far from over. As soon as the crowd settles and laughters trickle down to snickers, I whisper, "Dobby, begin."

The Cantis jinx takes hold and due take a step forward with open arms, courtesy of potion-induced Vodoun magic. It is a difficult brand of magic and one I'm not immediately familiar with but I know enough tricks to make the next part. Dobby will make the dolls dance, and with the help of two representative dolls I supplied and potion I've used to link the dolls to them, the boys will copy the moves.

Peter and Peter open their mouths and begin their song; It's Raining Men by The Weather Girls.

They dance; and even though there is no music in the background, they sing the lyrics with enough enthusiasm to entertain the masses. A few girls I know to be Muggleborn even sing along with them though in much lower voices.

The boy dance their way to the staff table and finish the song, and their dance, with coordinated bows, wide smiles and blank eyes. It is a bit eerie to be honest, the emptiness in their eyes as if there were no souls behind them.

They turn around and skip in front of Snape. Both pull off their left hand middle finger and put it on the table with great care, making sure both fingers stand straight. "Please accept this heart-felt song and the fingers we give you, oh, mighty Lord of Grease."

Snape turns to me, guessing correctly I'm responsible, with a fierce glare promising a detention and an arduous Occlumency session.

Who says a prank can't be useful?

The moment the zombie boys take a step back, the magic affecting them ends, and a horrified look crosses their faces as they look around the hall, then at each other. The moment their eyes find their hands, they give a horrified scream before turning to me with a similar glare to Snape's.

There is a reason I chose to improve their prank instead of coming up with an original idea and the message is clear: 'anything you can do, I can do better.'

Meanwhile, the spectators laugh harder and harder as the twins' reaction gets funnier and funnier while I reward the comedy duo with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Ah, I love the sounds of horrified screams and degrading laughter in the mornings.

-HP-

January 14, 1995

"Come in!"

I enter the potions' master's office and take a seat in front of his desk, ignoring the glare he's shooting at me with practised ease. "Good evening, Professor. How are you this lovely day?"

Oh, he's definitely angry, his nostrils widening and eyes narrowing. "When we agreed on this detention scheme as a cover for Occlumency training, insulting me wasn't what I had in mind, Potter."

"I needed a detention and the prank on the twins was already in plans so I used the opportunity," I explain with a careless shrug.

"I'd have given you detention either way," he snarls. "You didn't need to involve me in your immature joke."

"And you don't need to be an arsehole yet, here we are," I respond, angering the man further with my disrespect.

"Legilimens!"

The attack on my mind is sudden, vicious and unending, banging against my head with a vengeance. Still, the moment the accursed word leaves his lips, my mind is firmly on a wildlife documentary I watched a few years ago.

Let's see if he can find a way into my mind through a footage of a butterfly's life cycle, from birth to metamorphosis and death.

It still takes a lot of effort, keeping my mind on such a boring thing as the caterpillar morphs into a beautiful butterfly in agonising slowness. To be honest, the result is beautiful; a butterfly with silvery yellow wings, two sky-blue dots on them, reminding me of eyes.

Eyes so beautiful, they remind me Fleur, especially with the silvery yellow wings surrounding them.

She's been distant lately. Well, distant is not the right word. She has been ignoring me to such a degree that she changes directions as soon as we run into each other, refusing to even look at me.

Something's changed and not knowing hurts.

Considering the closeness we shared before she returned to France… Wait!

Dammit! Focus, Potter!

Butterfly returns to its cocoon and slowly reverts to an ugly caterpillar. Good, that ugly creature cannot remind me Fleur. Ever.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes, Fleur's inexplicable behaviour. I've been hearing rumours lately of someone asking Fleur out on a date but I haven't been able to divine who…

Oh, for fuck's sake! Snape's attack is definitely stronger than our first session as this is the twice he manipulated my mind with an eerie skill. However he's doing it, his influence is almost impossible to identify.

With a great effort, I throw him out of my mind and I slump on the chair, breathing heavily from exertion and a small headache. A few minutes pass by in silence as I gather myself and go over the experience. The butterfly I saw in the tele had pink wings with yellow dots all over it. Somehow, Snape changed the colours to remind me of Fleur and used that feeble connection to make me relive other moments relating to the cold girl.

Impressive.

What's more impressive is his second try at manipulating me back to Fleur and no matter how much I try, I can't find the thread back to his mind. "That was different," I comment once my breathing allows me to speak. "Impressive though."

The corners of his mouth curve up in an ugly smirk, enjoying my suffering. "Different how?"

"The only other time we've done this, you used my emotions to draw forth memories attached to those emotions. This time, you changed a part of my memory to draw a connection to what you wanted to see."

"Indeed," he drawls with a nod, his elbows resting on the table, hands clenched with his chin resting on them. "That is what a Master Legilimens does. Manipulate unimportant details in memories to facilitate a correlation so the subject will reveal the desired information without realising the manipulation and connection. It is immensely difficult to defend against and the only tool an Occlumens has against it is control of his own mind to recognise the changes, the manipulations."

Scary.

No, really. It means I have to be aware of every detail in every memory to ensure I recognise the changes. That is impossible which means I will always be open to mental manipulation, liable to betray my secrets. And if Snape can do so with such ease, I shudder to think how much control Voldemort can exude in my mind.

It means a Legilimens can, if talented enough, change the perception of reality of a target. A rapist could make his victim believe she loves him; a sufficiently motivated person can manipulate someone who's feeling down into committing suicide.

I don't think sleep will come easy tonight.

-Flowers for Your Grave-

Chapter 3: Saving People Thing

January 21, 1995

According to the organisers of this tournament, it is a great idea for the water challenge to take place in Black Lake in the cold of January.

What a magnificent fucking idea!

If I find who came up with this idiotic idea, I will bash him in the head with a stick until he is dead. Or she is. Who says women can't come up with stupid ideas.

I'm all for women's rights.

Anyway, as I walk to the lake, I consider changing my philosophy about this tournament from 'I should win it' to 'fuck it, I should go back to my warm bed'. It takes effort but I convince myself the potential ramifications of the contract breach isn't worth the temporary discomfort of having to walk around with Warming charm cast all over myself.

It itches something fierce and the desire to scratch every inch of my body is difficult to fight.

Once I am on the shore of the lake and the boat begins sailing at a lazy pace to one of the pier like things built just for this tournament, I let my mind wander.

I do that a lot lately, letting my mind wander.

I admit, the tournament isn't the only reason I am not my usual happy self. Fleur has been colder last two weeks since my return to Hogwarts. We were fine before she portkeyed to France but since I returned from the States, she's been distant. I am not clueless about what the fuck is going on with her. I tried to find out from her. I did, but she is avoiding me and…

It wasn't hard to figure out the reason. As the reason came and bragged himself.

I don't know. Life shouldn't be this hard.

Other than that little pickle, life hasn't been that bad though. Like I hoped, Professor Flitwick agreed to help me with my duelling which has been going great. He really is a great teacher. I also dodged a bullet with my progress in Occlumency. Albus deemed my work satisfactory, allowing me to continue studying myself with semi-regular visits to Snape.

The boat hits the pier, or whatever you want to call the structure, with a thud and wakes me up from my musing. I step on the platform and stumble my way to the changing room to change into swimming clothes.

The changing room is warm thanks to the charms applied beforehand so I refuse to leave until fifteen minutes before the challenge. As I step out of the tent-ish room, I see Aimee chatting amicably with Fleur while Viktor and Britt stand a few feet apart, imitating statues. I smile at Aimee and sit down next to where Cedric is sitting with his legs dangling. "Are you ready for the challenge, young Mr Diggory?"

He gives me an awkward smile. "Are you doing the Dumbledore bit again?"

"Nah. I like the way he talks. It is condescending and kind at the same time. It puts people off their game so it's fun."

"Yeah, I'm ready. I just hope Cho is doing okay."

Oh, yeah. The latest brightest idea of organisers is putting a hostage for each of the champion under the lake. I'll hold off my comments on that.

"She'll be fine. I imagine you'll find rescuing her very rewarding."

He chuckles at that. "Yeah. What about you? Who's your hostage?"

"It's Ron, I think. He's been missing since yesterday. I don't think he'll be rewarding me the same way though."

"That's a shame. You two would make a cute couple."

"I imagine I could do better than him if I was gay," I say with my head held high. "Oh, and fuck you."

"You say you aren't gay but then go around saying things like that," Cedric says with a large smile and a shake of his head.

Good. He should stay calm lest he freaks out under water when the stakes are high.

We continue to joke around while we wait for the next fifteen minutes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second task of the Triwizard tournament."

I ignore him in favour of getting out of the robe I put on to keep the chill out. I consider casting a Warming charm on my skin but the idea fills me with dread so I hop from one foot to the other and stretch.

"The champions have two objectives today. One is to find the brooms they will use in the next task hidden among the merpeople. Nimbus Racing Company donated six of their new model, Nimbus X for our champions use. Their second, and more important, task is to rescue their loved ones from captivity. They have their work cut out for them; that's for sure. If the champions are ready?" He looks our way for the first time. "In three, two, one. Begin!"

I watch as the other five champions dive in to the lake and wait for another minute to make sure they are out of the way before turning around and transfiguring the robe I had into shoes with smooth undersides. After casting a Freezing charm under the shoes, I jump into the water. Once I am sure the ice forming as soon as my feet touch the water won't break due to my weight, I walk towards the middle of the lake and reapplying the Freezing charm continuously for the next ten minutes, until I am near the top of the merpeople village.

I cut out a piece of ice and transfigure my shoes to a pair of flippers before casting a bubblehead charm and diving in. I swim down without a problem until a pack of grindylows jump out of weeds, their teeth barred and webbed claws stretched in my direction. These little water demons are not much of a problem for two reasons. First, the most their teeth and hands can penetrate my skin is a few inches, nothing life threatening. Second, they hate warm water. It takes two minutes to get rid of the dozen blighters by casting a strong Warming charm on the surrounding water.

As soon as my path is clear, I continue my downward movement and find the village merpeople built for themselves. Well, built is not the right word. They carved large rocks to keep other dangers of the waters away. It must be a cultural thing as well because there really aren't dangerous creatures in the Black Lake.

I swim between their 'houses' as the merpeople watch me as if I am a circus act. People above water are doing the same on the screens so I can't blame them. I wave at a few them and continue swimming until I am in the village's centre. There, on a wooden broom stand; six beautiful brooms with silver casings and golden twigs.

I take one broom and turn towards where I assume the hostages are to find myself face to face with a certain beautiful mermaid with dark hair and a nice pair of... Never mind. She smiles at me and takes off her bra made of seaweeds as she had done last year. I gulp down my reflexive reaction and point to an omnicular that has been following me around.

She must understand what the device does because she rushes away as if a monster is chasing her, a green tinge on her cheeks.

One thing is for sure, I handled her better this time.

I shrink the broom, put it in my pocket and swim away with a smile on my face. Next ten minutes go by with little fanfare. At least, for me. I come across two large packs of grindylows. The first pack, I handle with no problems. The second pack I come across is fighting Fleur who is using a piece of cloth as a breathing apparatus.

The fight is not going Fleur's way. Her spell work is sloppy and ineffective, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. I consider helping her but decide against it. She's my competition and if her behaviour towards me lately is anything to go by, she's not a friend either.

I continue my way without a second glance. Ten minutes later, a bad feeling creeps up on me. Something is off. I didn't come across anything alive since I swam past Fleur. The reason becomes clear as I make way over a small hill and come across a Sea Serpent as big as the Basilisk in the chamber was.

Sea Serpents are not aggressive creatures and are generally amiable towards humans but they are still dangerous.

You know what? Here is a little tip for you adventurous people, consider every creature that can eat you without chewing dangerous.

Before I can even wish to pass it by without it realising, it turns to make and stares me down as if considering whether to play with me or eat me. I need to distract him somehow before it decides so I conjure fifty colourful fishes to keep it interested and swim away as fast as I can.

Conjuring this many animate objects at once is a bitch but I'll survive.

Another fifteen minutes go by involving only one clash with yet another group of grindylows before I reach where the hostages are to find them surrounded by six sirens, three of both sexes.

It is a common misconception that sirens are always female and the males of the species are as attractive as their counterparts. The difference between sirens and mermaids are easy to identify. While mermaids can be just as beautiful or handsome as sirens, their voices can't turn you to a horny, brainless zombie. And mermaids don't have gorgeous golden eyes.

As soon as they see me, the three females showcase their voices while the males turn around to give us a semblance of privacy. I have to say, their singing voice is great and the one on the left with white blonde hair is very sexy.

I shake my head and continue swimming until I am past them. All six hostages are tied to iron posts with ropes. I recognise Ron, Hermione, Cho and Samantha though the little blonde girl looks like a younger, eight years old Fleur.

I cut Ron free and turn around to find the Sirens glaring at me as if I offended them somehow. I smile at them as I swim away, one hand on Ron's arm. I am almost out of the seeing range before a thought hits me. What will happen to the hostages if the champions are unable to save them? Fleur is an example that comes to mind.

I really don't believe Dumbledore would let them die. I am sure of it. But, my conscience doesn't let me swim away without giving them one last glance so I turn around to find the blonde siren poke at the little girl with her trident as the other two females shake their shoulders as if laughing.

That wasn't a kind thing to do.

I'd say they are bored and having fun but as I continue to watch, they keep poking the same girl repeatedly, not even sparing a glance at other four hostages.

Oh, shit.

I made the connection. Sirens like to charm unsuspecting fools. A similar talent to what veelas have. When you consider that veelas have an affinity to fire and sirens have an affinity to water, I can understand how they would consider each other natural enemies, hunters who like same preys.

While I know Dumbledore and the whatever committee that organised this tournament have no intention of letting any non-competitor get hurt, it isn't out of the realm of possibilities for them to have overlooked this small but crucial detail.

Fuck. I will do the stupid yet heroic thing again, won't I?

I let go of Ron and make sure he isn't moving anywhere before swimming back to the hostages. The sirens are surprised to see me again but they aren't doing anything offensive yet. I swim to the little girl and cut her free. As I am about to take her hand to lead her away, something sharp, probably a trident, pokes at my lower back. I turn around to find all six of the sirens glaring at me and waving their fingers threateningly.

"I am taking her with me. Either move or die." Thank god for the bubblehead charm or I wouldn't be able to speak.

"No. One hostage only," one of the male sirens answer in a gruff voice.

I push the trident away and glare at the feral creatures. "You have five seconds to lower your weapons. At the end of five seconds, you die." I raise my wand. "One. Two..."

They lower their tridents and I swim away as soon as I have a firm hold on the girl's wrist. I lead her to where Ron is and use a temporary sticking charm on their hands to keep my right hand free to use my wand. It will be hard to swim with both but I will have to make do.

I swim towards the surface, putting much more effort but still slower than before. It takes five minutes for me to get tired so I take a small break. Being ahead of other champions definitely has its advantages. I let go of the girl's ankle and massage my legs. As I am about to take the girl's hand again, I see a glimpse of silver underneath me.

That doesn't seem right. I look down to see the silver-haired siren, stretching back with her hand on the trident.

I act without thinking once again and push the girl out of the weapon's route. She drags Ron away with her, taking him with her to safety. I somehow make a full turn because of the momentum and feel a tingling in my back. That's odd.

I try to turn to face the siren again but I am off-balance and my eyes are out of focus. Something is wrong. I shake my head stupidly to help my eyes focus but it accomplishes nothing.

First, get rid of the siren. Then figure out why I suddenly have a visual impairment.

I tighten my grip on my wand and cast half a dozen of cutting curses towards where I can vaguely see the shape of the siren. That should be enough to keep her scared for a while. I try to move towards Ron and the girl but my muscles aren't working properly. Something is definitely wrong. I blindly feel behind me to understand what the problem is and touch something woody.

Oh, right. The trident. And suddenly, pain.

I writhe in pain for a while before another thought hits me: Ron and the girl. I have to figure out a way to send them above water. Especially the girl. The sirens proved themselves dangerous and I will not let either of them get hurt because of the organisers' fuck-up.

The problem is, I can't swim, let alone carry two people with me. I'm not sure I have the time anyway if the amount of blood that dirties the surrounding water is any sign.

What to do? What to do?

I can conjure fish and use a leash to have them drag the two to the surface?

No, that only works in comic books.

Can I conjure a submarine?

Dammit, focus!

Okay, I need a method of transporting two people to the surface as fast as possible. I can't side-along apparate both. I learned how to apparate only this summer and I can't risk leaving behind an arm or a leg.

I haven't created a portkey before but I know the theory. I think I can do that successfully and portkeys don't really care how many people use them.

Portkey it is. I move towards the two hostages with moves that probably looks retarded but hey; you try to move underwater with a trident sticking out of your back! It takes me ages to reach them which means probably only a minute passed. I look around for anything I can charm to act as a portkey but find nothing. I am already tired and my vision is going black so a conjuration is out of option. If I have the strength in me for one magic, I have to use that for the portkey charm.

Flippers! I am wearing flippers. I take one off and focus on the destination and the activation conditions.

'Destination: the pier. Activation condition: in one minute.' I keep repeating the same thing over and over in my head before finally casting the charm and sticking it between the girl's hand and Ron's.

And I wait. The wait is a terrible thing. I am not sure if I did it properly and until I see them disappear, I don't take a breath in fear of messing with the portkey somehow. My vision continues to get darker and I can barely see anymore.

Just before the portkey activates, a thought hits me: 'I can take the portkey as well' but it's too late.

I pass out cursing myself.

-HP-

January 23, 1995

Waking up in pain in the hospital wing is one inevitable fact of life for me. I do it often. A couple times a year at least.

So, it isn't a surprise when I open my eyes on the bed that has long since adjusted to my body shape. Okay, that last part was a joke if you haven't noticed. I am a growing bo... growing man. Yes, man.

I hate laying face down so I turn around.

Poppy must sense my movements somehow because she is all over me in a manner of seconds. "You can't stay away, can you?"

I grin at her. "I missed your tender care and gentle hands on my body, Poppy."

"Shut up and turn around so I can check your new holes."

"Oh, yes, talk dirty to me." I turn around as ordered. "Tell me the scars look cool, please. I went through all that trouble to earn them."

"If you are well enough to make jokes, I assume you need no pain relievers?"

I sit up quickly and get dizzy. "Half the reason I love you is, you make my pain go bye-bye. It's like you are Magic."

"Lay back down before I stun you, boy."

I once again do as ordered. "I love it when you do the tough love act."

She hits my back not so softly. Thankfully, she avoided the wounds. "Will you stop?"

"Fine. What happened after I decided taking a nap underwater sounded like a great idea?"

"As soon as the trident hit you, a group of aurors jumped into action. They carried you out of the lake." Her hand moves on my back, checking the skin around the wounds and I feel a tingle of magic cast.

"How long was I out?"

"Just three days."

I laugh at her response. Particularly the word 'just.' "How are the hostages? The little girl and Ron?"

"The hostages are fine. The champions were a little banged up but except you nothing serious."

"Good."

"You can turn around now. Your wounds are fine."

I turn around and smile at her. "Are they cool?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Yes, they are cool. Does that mean you want to keep them as well?"

"Damn right. I earned them."

She looks at me uncomfortably for a moment. That's weird. She is never uncomfortable. "What is it?"

She hesitates before asking, "how did you make a portkey to Hogwarts grounds that got past the anti-portkey enchantments?"

Right. I made that portkey, and it worked. How did it work? "I don't know. I wasn't thinking straight, what with all the blood loss. Albus probably caught onto what I was doing so temporarily lifted the protections. There is a possibility I overpowered the portkey but I doubt it. That's close to impossible even for someone powerful like Albus and I was far too weak to even conjure something."

She nods but I can tell she's not sure about my theory. "Speaking of the headmaster, he wanted to speak with you."

"No problem. I have an hour or two in me. Can you have an elf bring food and something to drink? I am famished."

"Almost dying does that to you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just do as you are told, woman."

She glares at me, barely able to keep in her smile. "Do you want a spanking, Mr Potter?"

I smirk. "Are you offering?"

She shakes her head and leaves for her office.

Two minutes later, an elf pops into existence next to my bed and gives me a tray filled to the brim with food. She leaves without I can say thank you. Typical.

Albus arrives fifteen minutes later. "It is wonderful to see you awake and well, Harry."

I swallow my bite down and smile. "Thank you, Albus. Did you take down the anti-portkey jinx?"

He smiles kindly. "Yes, I did. I was curious about what your plan was when you removed your fascinating footwear. I thought maybe blood loss was making you delirious but when you put it in the young Miss Delacour's hand, I realised what you were planning. I lifted the jinx a second before your portkey activated."

"You weren't wrong exactly. I wasn't thinking straight. First idea I had was conjuring fishes and tying them to the hostages. I didn't even consider the jinx. I'm glad it worked though."

"An ingenious idea if I say so myself. Though I was surprised when you didn't take the portkey yourself."

I smile sheepishly. "I realised I could have just when the portkey activated. I was so sure I would die, I didn't consider what I could do to live."

His expression turns troubled at that. "Yes, I can't seem to keep you safe."

"Stop that." I glare at him fiercely. "Shit happens. I know you are doing all you can. I doubt you wanted hostages to be put under the lake, let alone one with veela heritage."

He says nothing to that.

I feel full so I put my tray to the small table beside my bed. "How about the task? What's the situation?"

His smile returns. "There was an uproar about what happened, especially from Daily Prophet, which resulted in arguments between the judges. You technically finished the task as did the four other champions. Only one to fail was Miss Delacour. I will announce everyone's points when you leave the hospital wing."

"Oh, good. I would hate for this silly tournament to get in the way of my fame."

Yay, sarcasm.

-HP-

January 25, 1995

"Harry! Are you okay? How is your wounds? Did madam Pomfrey say when you can leave? Are you an idiot? Taking someone else's hostage with you? Especially that girl's hostage!"

I sometimes wonder whether Hermione discovered a way to breathe without actually breathing. "Calm down, Hermione. Yes, I am okay. My wounds are cool. Poppy said I can leave for dinner if I promise to come back for check-ups after breakfast and dinner for the next few days. I am a heroic idiot. Of course, I rescued her. Didn't you notice what those sirens were doing to the poor girl? And no, I didn't rescue her because she is Fleur's sister. I would've saved her even if she was Malfoy's sister."

Her cheek reddens while Ron, Neville and Katie snickers behind her. "Sorry. I was so worried. You have no right to worry us silly like that."

"Right. I'm sorry for worrying you with my injuries. Next time I get mortally injured, I will tell you not to worry before falling unconscious. Now, give me a hug. Do be careful though. Poppy may skin you alive if you cause me pain." I tilt my head and reconsider. "Or she'd offer you apprenticeship. I'm unsure."

After Hermione's hug, Katie follows while the two boys give me a gentlemen's pat on the shoulder. We are manly men.

"So, what's the word around Hogwarts?"

Katie jumps up and down on the chair she's sitting in excitement that lacks any real enthusiasm. "You are a hero again. Everyone is like 'I always knew how great he is.' Or 'the poor thing must be so alone in the hospital wing, maybe I should visit him in bed.' Those who say things similar to the second one are mostly girls."

"That's nice." My eyes widen. "Wait, mostly?"

She gives me a wide smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Well, I heard Colin and some other guys entertain the idea."

I groan as Ron adds, "Malfoy and his little gang are as usual but no one gives them a time of day."

Neville winks at me. "Twins are very subdued lately."

"Why is that?"

"Well, now that you are a hero once again, everyone suddenly realised what arseholes they've been to you."

Oh, goody.

"How have you guys been? Dealing with each other must have been difficult without my calming presence."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "We've been getting along rather well so it looks like you are the reason Ron and I fight so often."

I put my hand on my back. "You wound me, Hermione. There is now another hole in my body, right where my heart used to be."

"Don't even joke about that, you prat! Do you realise how scared we were?"

"I imagine Ron wasn't scared at all what with his unconsciousness."

Ron grins at me, then reddens when Neville says, "he was enjoying himself while you were bleeding out. As soon as he and the girl appeared on the pier, Fleur jumped on him and kissed him on the cheek which- surprise, surprise- turned him into a slobbering mess."

While the other three guffaw, Ron and have a hard time laughing for different reasons though we try.

I smile to Ron and pat him on the back. "Good for you, mate."

We sit in companionable silence until Hermione remembers the important things in life. "We should get to the class. We'll come back before dinner so we can walk together."

"Yeah, treat me like I'm disabled. I won't mind." I smile at her when she glowers. "I'm joking. Go. Learn things."

They all get up to leave except Katie who I stop with a hand on her arm. "Stay for a moment, please."

She looks at me with worried eyes. "What is it, James?"

"Are you okay? You seem off."

She says nothing but I can see tears pooling in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, it'll be fine."

She jumps on me and lets her tears fall on my shoulder. "I thought... I thought you died! When they brought you out of the lake, you weren't moving, you weren't breathing. Blood everywhere. I was so scared."

I put my arms around her and move my hand up and down on her spine to calm her down. "I'm okay. Did you really think I would let a silly little thing like three extra holes on my back and an extreme blood loss kill me?"

She half sobs, half laughs at my joke. "It was so horrible. Madam Pomfrey was treating you furiously. Even McGonagall was near tears."

"Well, I have to keep the tradition alive."

"What," sniff, "tradition?" Sniff.

"I can't just let a year in Hogwarts pass without almost dying at least two or three times. It's a tradition I have to uphold."

Her arms tighten around my neck but she giggles. "I don't like that tradition."

She rearranges her position on the bed and lays next to me, her head buried on my chest. We lay silent for some time. I don't want her to get any ideas but I can tell she needs this; she needs to make sure I am alive and well. So I let her do as she wishes.

We don't move until the door to the infirmary opens. Katie is out of the bed so fast I worry she might get vertigo.

Fleur, her sister and a middle-aged man with blond hair a shade or two darker than Fleur's enter the infirmary and walk over to my bed after a glance around. "Mr Potter, I am glad you are doing well." The man speaking is anything but average which explains why Fleur considers herself a 'quarter' veela. Her veela heritage must have come from her paternal grandmother. Even though the blonde man is around my height, he looks like a model, especially with his high cheekbones and light blue eyes.

If I was gay, I'd tap that.

"Thank you, Mr?"

"Forgive me. Where are my manners? I am Sebastian Delacour. Fleur's father. And this is Gabrielle." He points to the angelic girl who is shying behind his legs, her head buried into her father's dark brown coat, before holding out his hand for me to shake.

Fleur... She is her usual public self; aloof, haughty and utterly gorgeous.

I sit up in my bed to shake his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Mr Delacour."

"I came to Hogwarts to watch my older daughter compete, Mr Potter, but I had to watch as you almost died to protect my younger daughter. You have my gratitude. If there is anything I can do for you, you need but to ask." He takes two steps back once I let go of his hand.

"Your gratitude is more than enough."

Katie cuts in before he can say anything else, "I should go. I already missed charms. If I miss Transfiguration too, McGonagall is sure to have me in detention for a month."

Her face shows how uncomfortable she is so I don't object. "Sure. Tell her I said 'hi kitty.' I'll see you at dinner." I wait until Katie leaves before focusing back on the middle-aged man. "Fleur tells me you are the Head Auror of the French."

His looks at Fleur with widened eyes like he had not expected her to have contact with me, let alone telling me about her family. "Yes, that is correct, Mr Potter."

"You may choose not to take this seriously but I feel like I should give you this warning. Troubling times are coming, Mr Delacour. I think, for the sake of your country, you should increase your numbers and make sure your men are well trained."

He focuses back on me with narrowed eyes. "Are you talking about what happened with the Death Eaters after the World Cup finals?"

"No. They were a bunch of drunken idiots who thought attacking defenceless people would make for a fun night. What I am talking about is serious. I wish I could be more forthcoming but I don't know you and while I am sure you are a fine man, I can't share any more than that."

He considers me for a moment before nodding. "I appreciate the warning, Mr Potter. I will take it under advisement."

"I sincerely hope you do."

"I should go. Speedy recoveries, Mr Potter." He turns around to leave with the little girl.

"That upsetting," I say in a joking tone. "There is a beautiful angel here yet she doesn't even talk." Mr Delacour stiffens as do Fleur. I ignore their reaction. "Gabrielle, the patron angel of communication yet she doesn't speak."

The little girl can't seem to decide whether to be shy or coy so she reddens and giggles at the same time.

"She's alive!"

That gets a verbal reaction. "Of course, I'm alive, silly." Her voice has a musical quality to it like her sister's, a tinge of nature's alluring song though where Fleur's voice induces desire, Gabrielle's give me a parental desire to protect her.

"Gabrielle!" I'm not sure why Fleur finds that offensive. "You should thank him, not insult him."

Gabrielle looks down at her feet. "I'm sorry."

"I don't think silly is an insult. I like being silly. It is much more fun than being all serious and cold." Yeah, I'm not above a little jab.

She rewards me with a warm, toothy smile. "Thank you for saving me," she says and runs off.

Well, it's something.

The patriarch of the family follows her, leaving me and Fleur alone in the room.

Either she's trying to unnerve me by staying silent like Albus enjoys doing or she is unsure how to proceed because she stands still and silent for the next five minutes.

"Thank you for saving her."

"Oh, I exist today. Lovely."

Another silence follows, this one even more uncomfortable. I am fine with that. I have nothing to say to her. I tried. I tried to find out what's wrong, what turned her to this cold shell of herself towards me and I am tired. Tired of wishing for things that won't happen, tired of waiting.

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. Obviously, you decided I wasn't worthy of an explanation. Stand by your decision."

"It's not like that. I didn't mean to ignore you. I..." she trails off.

I wave my arms "See. You still don't explain. You what? You got bored? You decided I wasn't good enough? What?"

She turns to the window. Yet, she doesn't answer.

I turn and dangle my feet over the side, facing her. "How about I guess what's been going through your mind lately. You are falling for me. You realised that when you left for France. So you put some distance to see, to figure out what that means to you. In the meantime, you met this charming redhead with an exciting job as a curse breaker. Someone who is socially more acceptable than a fourteen-years-old schoolboy. Especially when being with that boy, while exciting, would put you under more scrutiny. Something you hate. This redhead though would be perfect for you. Now, you can't decide what to do. Since you can't decide what to do, you came here so I can help make that decision for you."

The blonde turns away from me halfway through my speech to prevent me from seeing her face; soon turning back once again with her features schooled yet some surprise still bleeds through.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. Bill is Ron's older brother. One of many. Mrs Weasley would have his hide if he hadn't visited us while here for work."

She gives me a puzzled look.

"His mother. Delightful lady. Overbearing and quick to judgment but very loving and a great cook."

After my summary of Mrs Weasley, a tense silence ensues. She looks at me expectantly, waiting, hoping for me to say something to convince her to be with me. It is hard not to but I won't lower myself like that.

"I won't make your decision for you. In fact, from now on, consider our relationship, or whatever you want to call it, over." She looks hurt. "I put in the effort, Fleur. I opened myself up. I was there for taking. It is time for you to make a move. You want to be with me? Great, ask me out on a date. You want to be with Bill? Understandable. All you have to do is say yes to him."

That seems to hurt her pride because she lifts her nose at me. "Do you want me to crawl for you as well?"

I get up and walk to the window to look out on the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts. "While it would be fun for role-playing, no. I like my woman with a backbone. A woman who isn't afraid to go after what she wants with her head held high."

She huffs and turns around to leave.

I grin viciously. Even though she can't see it, it is obvious from my tone when I speak. "Be warned, though. Pride is a tricky thing. It's a good thing when you are prideful for the right reasons. Like knowing what you want and taking it. But when built on empty foundation, it falls apart like a house of cards. Will the decision you make right now fall apart like that?"

She hesitates but continues walking away.

"I guess we'll see where the cards fall," I whisper to myself.

The view from the window is magnificent with late afternoon sun reflecting on the thin snow and the lake, creating a rainbow of colours with a white background. I'm aware what a great view this makes for yet I see no beauty at the moment.

The hospital wing feels like a horde of dementors passed through it.

-HP-

I wish I can say I leave the hospital wing with no aid but I can't. I wasn't aware at the time but the trident hit only the left side of my back while the right side is doing just fine. Because of the extensive damage to the muscles on my back, I have limited use of my upper left body which affects my balance.

So I lean on Katie as I walk. She has a hard time dealing with the additional weight I cause but Ron and Neville are too tall for me to lean on without damaging the still healing muscles and Hermione carries enough weight on her shoulders. A small library worth of weight to be precise.

This is the first time I leave the hospital wing in need of physical therapy and Poppy takes offense by it somehow. Like saving me from a certain death caused by an extensive blood loss, damage to the liver, a punctured lung and a punctured kidney wasn't enough, she had to bring me back to perfect health from the ordeal in only five days. That woman!

Ron and Hermione lead us to the courtyard, then to Forbidden Forest like I asked. It was hard to convince them to take me to this little journey. Poppy wanted me to use this ugly metal cane. Which I, of course, rejected. Call me vain but if I have to use a walking aid, I will use one that looks stylish and is useful. So I will make myself another staff.

Hence the forbidden forest. There are these beautiful holly shrubs I want to use the wood of for the staff in the forest. The first staff I made was for artistic purposes so I made it with beech wood and Raiju whiskers. This will focus on defence. Thus holly wood and Phoenix feathers.

Why defence? I haven't forgotten Voldemort's failed, and perhaps still active, plan to kidnap me.

We walk for fifteen minutes before Firenze and Ronan join us. "Hello, Harry Potter," Firenze greets. "I am glad to see you are recovering from your ordeal."

"Were you watching?" He nods, I grin. "I thought centaurs didn't like to waste their times on superfluous things us wizards do?"

Ronan chuckles. "Don't listen to Firenze, young Harry. Even centaurs, gets bored with watching the stars."

Four friends of mine watch us with wide eyes as we continue to talk. It's not surprising. Even though they know I am friends with the two centaurs, the familiarity with which we converse is mind-boggling for them.

Firenze looks at me searchingly. "Why have you come to the forest, Harry? It is not safe for you, especially in your weakened state."

"It's precisely for that reason, I am here. I need to make a staff to help me walk. I want to use holly wood for it."

Ronan is definitely interested. "A staff, you say?"

"Yes. It won't last long depending on how often I perform magic with it. A dozen spells at most but it's better than being defenceless." I turn to Ronan. "I can make you one too if you are interested."

"I thought you had laws against that?"

I shrug. "I've never been one to follow rules and I won't let rules imposed by bigots stand in the way of giving a gift to a friend."

We reach the bushes I am here for. "I would like that."

I cast a drying charm on the ground and sit down. "How about you, Firenze?"

He shakes his head, causing his mane to flail around. "I enjoy the bow you gifted me fine."

"Okay then." I turn to Hermione. "Hermione, can you?"

She knows what I need, so she cuts useful parts of the bushes, putting the berries aside and giving me the woods.

"Dobby."

Pop.

"Can you bring the wooden box with the symbol of two wands and a staff on it? It is on the highest shelf in my room. And some Basilisk hide?"

Dobby pops away and back without a word. I guess he's nervous around the two centaurs.

"Thank you, buddy."

Pop.

The small box has three parts. First one filled with whiskers I worked hard to convince Puck to give. Second filled with eye strings from the basilisk. The third has feathers Fawkes donated. I plan to use seven feathers of Fawkes for my staff.

"Ronan, what characteristics would you like your staff to have? Holly wood is great with defensive magic. For core, you have three options. Basilisk eye strings are better when used to cast magic intending to hurt. Phoenix feathers have a greater range. It is a risk though. The staff would either work great for you or abysmally. Raiju whiskers have a tendency towards artistic and fluid magic like Transfiguration."

I know a wand, or a staff the case may be, chooses a wizard but I don't have many options so asking for his opinion is the next best thing.

He considers for a long moment. "Basilisk eye string."

I nod. "Not a bad choice though it may clash with Holly's protective nature."

Seven eyestrings leave the box and I work on preparing the cores while I explain the process to the four students. "Wood works as a transmitter in wands and staves. They channel the magic from your arm to the core, then out. The cores are the tricky part. They expand the magic, give it a shape and a purpose thus making it easier to perform spells. In essence, the core's job is to simplify the magic."

I tie the feathers together, then the strings and wind them around a small piece of holly. I hold out the two small pieces of wood. "This is a staff core. For a wand, the makers use only one string and feather. Otherwise the wood can't handle the resulting magic. Staves are capable of more powerful magic because they are made with more core material but that is also the reason they don't last long, especially if made by a novice like me. The core elements burn away at an exceptional rate with little time to settle."

I stealthily perform the few necessary enchantments I know. This part of the work is a secret wandmakers holds close to their chests. There are less than four hundred people who know the secret and it isn't my place to tell other people.

Albus truly is a well of knowledge and knows almost everything there is to know about magic.

Hermione has gathered enough wood for the two staves already and is listening attentively. I gather the wood in front of me and lay them in two horizontal lines. I turn to Ronan and try to measure how long a staff he should get.

The length of a wand or a staff is important but I don't know what is the determining factor. So I go for comfort. Six feet for Ronan and three feet three inches for me.

My staff is the first one I work on. I choose a wavy pattern for it. My first move is bonding dozens of thin branches into seven long and thicker branches. I then place the core on where the staff will be thinnest, near ground. The staff will start thin on the ground and get thicker towards the handle. I use extra material so the inside of the staff won't be empty. Next, I wave the branches around the core in a circular pattern using a simple transfiguration trick. I transfigure the part where I will lean on the staff as a knob so the grip is good.

Ronan's staff turns out bulkier than me. Three thick branches going straight down around the core. He will use it as a tool so it is for two handed grip.

By the time I'm finished, it's been two hours and there is no sign of the winter sun.

Ronan takes the staff when I hold it out for him. "Try it but be careful. If I did a good job, resulting magic will be much more powerful than you are used to."

Centaurs can do great feats of magic. Though they mostly focus on healing and divination, they are capable of offensive magic as well and Ronan proves it. He takes the staff in a two handed grip and slams it on the ground. Four trees hit the ground in pieces, destroyed beyond recognition and a thin wisp of smoke is leaving the staff.

We stay still at the result, in awe and shock, even Ronan.

Two minutes later Ron gulps and breaks the silence. "I would be very careful when using that thing if I were you."

Potential reactions are cut short by the sounds of approaching hooves. We all turn towards the noise and thirty seconds later, see two dozen centaurs with drawn weapons. They look like they are ready for a war which, considering the noise, is not surprising

"What's going on here?" Bane yells when he is close enough.

Ronan and Firenze step in front of us and explain what happened and why five humans are in the forest. What follows is twenty minutes of centaur politics.

As soon as we get out of the forest, Hermione turns on me. "I told you we shouldn't go to the forest! They might've killed us!"

I disagree. Centaurs don't kill children, or 'foals' as Ronan puts it. "Nah. They were just tense because of the noise and destruction."

"That's the last time I listen to your harebrained ideas and follow you into the forest."

"That was the first time you followed me to the forest."

She huffs and storms off. I feel bad for scaring them though. Ron got used to getting into trouble with me a long time ago so he's okay but Katie and Neville are still shaking.

"Let's get food and relax."

We walk into the great hall and all conversation stops. It takes me some time to understand why everyone is staring at me. I stand straight and put on my best Lockhart expression. "Yes, it is I, Harry Potter. There is no need to get up. Please, continue as you were."

Some laugh. Some sneer. Some clap.

I shrug and make my way to the Gryffindor table to sit down with my friends.

It feels uncomfortable, being the focus of most of the population once again but I survive. Some Gryffindors come to congratulate me on my rescue of Gabrielle, some look at me in awe. I ignore the awe and nod gently at the congratulations.

I wonder when I will become a villain again.

My pondering is cut short by Dumbledore who stands up and walks in front of the staff table to make an announcement. "Now that we have all our champions back with us, it is time to announce the points they received for the second task. Because the task was cut short by the unfortunate incident, the judges decided to award points according to the performances up to that point. First up, we have Harry Potter who reached his hostage first and performed admirably, even going to the extra trouble of saving a young girl in trouble. For that we award him forty-seven points."

The applause is deafening.

"Second, we have Cedric Diggory who used a bubblehead charm to great effect and was second to reach his hostage. We award him forty-three points."

"To Viktor Krum who managed a half-transfiguration and reached his hostage third, we award forty points."

"To Aimee Beaufort, we award thirty-seven points for her ingenious use of potions. To Britt Henningsen, we award thirty-seven points for her use of Bubblehead charm and a great show of power. And last but not least, Miss Fleur Delacour's charmed breathing apparatus earned her thirty-three points."

That gives me fourteen points lead. Not too shabby.