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Chapter Eight
Black Sunrise
Fleur's heart melted as she listened to Harry explain how he chose a simple pastry for her.
He's so adorable.
". . . Hide and protect all the good and warm and gooey and wonderful stuff on the inside."
Little thief is stealing my heart!
"Please don't let that sound as bad as I think it did."
Still so unsure of himself – where will I ever find someone else like this? Wizards twice his age don't see me like he does.
I should have kissed him first thing this morning like I wanted to.
I should kiss him now.
That's right 'Arry, keep your eyes closed—
Surprised to see me this close? Is this what you want? I heard that Cho girl, you're a beginner, That's okay. I'll help.
His skin feels so good against my hands—
His lips are trembling—
I can feel his breath—
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
'Arry be careful!
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
The fireplace flashed and Harry jumped to the side of the mantle, his wand already in hand as he pressed himself against the wall. Someone traveling to the Burrow unannounced exited the fire that had turned green with floo travel. Harry jumped him from behind, wrapping his foot around one of the visitor's legs and pulling, tripping the man and riding him to the floor before sticking his wand in the back of his neck.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded
Fleur's face fell. There's that horrible dead voice again. Where did my 'Arry go?
"Harry? It's me, Charlie Weasley."
"Charlie? CHARLIE? Oh bollocks I'm" – Harry remembered Remus's test yesterday morning– "What did you and Bill break last fall before dinner when I was here?"
"The picnic table," he replied.
Harry got up off him and gave him a hand. "Sorry about that, you okay?"
Charlie wiped off the remains of his Floo travel. "Don't apologize. Mum floo-ed me early this morning and told me what happened after the last task on Saturday, but she didn't know I was coming and neither did you; never apologize for safety and caution."
Harry gave him a confused look.
"Remember, I work with dragons, it's our motto." Charlie lightened up considerably and even flashed a smile. "By the way, I put my memories of the first task in a Pensieve and shared them with everyone at the dragon reserve. They were all amazed by your skill on a broom, though I have to admit you were their second favorite memory."
The second favorite memory? 'Arry on a broom is amazing, what could. . . uh oh.
"Yeah?" Harry asked. "Who was their favorite memory? Krum, or that beautiful French goddess who almost got her skirt burned off to everyone's delight?"
Oh, Zut! 'ARRY! Fleur was beginning to blush.
"I'm on a dragon reserve, Harry. Who do you think? They didn't make 'em like that when I was in school."
"Non?" Fleur finally spoke up. "'Ow did they make us back then?"
Charlie spun around so fast his foot caught in the rug and he tripped, falling back to the floor in a glowing red ball of embarrassment.
"Harry, would you mind getting the salt from the cupboard?" Charlie mumbled. "I've found 'foot' always tastes better with a little salt."
Fleur laughed, finding the amusing comment disarming.
"Mum told me Harry was here with his, um, actually she just smiled at that part, but she never said anything about it being one of the other Champions," Charlie said. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."
"I think you were the the one embarrassed, no?" Fleur answered in a good humor. "That's okay, it was entertaining and 'Arry needed a good laugh after today."
Embarrassed or not, Charlie became serious, pushing himself up off the floor (a second time) and sitting in the chair next to the wall that divided the sitting room from the kitchen. "What happened?"
Fleur cut off Harry as he was about to answer, not wanting to lose the lighthearted mood just yet. There would be enough seriousness in the evening. Of course, it was also time to pay Harry back for turning her into absolute goo a few moments ago.
Well, if nothing else, this is going to be a playful relationship.
"Your maman caught 'Arry and me in bed together zhis morning."
Instead of blushing, Harry's jaw dropped. Charlie took one look at him and threw his head back, roaring with laughter. "Remind me to tell you a story about her catching me in bed with a witch whose first name began with 'Nymph'."
Fleur didn't understand the nasty smile that quickly spread across Harry's face, nor why it got twice as wide a few minutes later when Harry reappeared with Sirius in tow, after Molly finished fawning over her son.
"Nymphadora, you said?" Sirius asked as Charlie finished the story.
"Yep, what a name. Imagine your mum catching you in bed with her."
"It'd be a cause for concern, I'm sure," Sirius said off-handedly.
"You know," Charlie continued, "it's strange sitting here talking to you again, I was what, nine the last time you were at the Burrow?"
"Something like that," Sirius answered. "I wonder, do you remember Nymphadora's last name?"
"Yeah, Tonks. Why do you ask?"
"Did you know her mum's last name?"
"No. . ." Charlie answered.
Fleur picked up on Charlie's apprehension and Harry, sitting next to her, grinning mischievously. Fleur had to admit to herself, that grin looked oh so cute on him.
"It's Black," Sirius informed him.
Charlie paled. "Black?"
"Black," he repeated.
"As in. . . ."
"My Cousin, daughter of Andromeda Tonks Neé Black, my father's sister." Sirius deadpanned.
Charlie paled even more. "I never knew. How, how is she?"
Tonks popped out from behind. "Wotcher, Charlie! I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Charlie jumped out of his chair, but lost his footing and for the third time in less than fifteen minutes, fell to the ground. Tonks reached out for him, catching his hand, but his momentum was too much and he pulled her down on top of him.
"Charlie!" Molly bellowed. "Did I not tell you that I don't want to see that EVER in my house!"
Gales of laughter rang out as Charlie turned red again. Tonks gave him a peck on the lips and helped him up.
Ooh, my 'Arry is a devious one, isn't he?Fleur's laughter turned into a very content smile.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
The appearance of Molly's only living son was a brutal reminder of what she had lost. The entire Burrow heard Molly wailing over the death of her family as she and Charlie mourned together in a back room until Charlie thought to cast an Imperturbable Charm, cutting off the sound.
The others spent time collecting and organizing memories for the Pensieve. Fleur and Harry both begged off revisiting the scenes of two nights ago, but Harry wasn't so lucky concerning the events of his Second Year.
Once the memories had been extracted, Fleur and Harry, along with Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Charlie, who had just reappeared from the back room, all entered the Pensieve.
~ . ~ . ~
Fleur looked around. "Where are we?"
"We're in a tunnel that starts in a bathroom on the second floor. We're pretty much at the other end of it now."
"Which bathroom?" Sirius asked from behind them.
"Moaning Myrtle's," he answered.
"Moaning Myrtle?" Tonks laughed. "What were you even doing in a girls—"
The memory of Harry hissed, opening the Chamber of Secrets.
"You're a Parseltongue?" Tonks asked, surprised.
"Yeah, I found that out this year as well, at least what it was called."
They followed the memory of Harry into the chamber. Fleur choked up when she saw little Ginny Weasley lying face down at the feet of a massive statue. Twelve-year-old Harry ran to her.
"Ginny – don't be dead – please don't be dead!"
Fleur reached for Harry's hand and held it, interlacing her fingers with his as he squeezed her hand and bit down on his lip.
It was easy to see how difficult it was for Harry to watch this memory.
Everyone listened carefully as the future Voldemort began to speak. Gasps were heard when they learned his real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle and he was a half-blood. Fleur heard Sirius explaining that Marvolo was a family name of the Gaunts.
Fleur's eyes filled with tears of joy when she heard the phoenix song in the chamber, but her heart filled with fear when she heard Riddle's speech concerning how Harry and he were just alike – not that she was worried Voldemort was right; Fleur could see the difference between the two of them even in the memory. Rather, it was as if Harry stood as a counterbalance to Riddle; one that was created the night Voldemort targeted the Potters. Yet a counterbalance, while being different, also must be equal. Just how much more 'equal' would Harry have to become in order to kill this Dark Lord?
Coupled with the Dumbledore's and Molly's worries, along with the things she'd seen herself concerning his dreams and scars, the question made Fleur go pale.
Harry caught her eye and smiled. "Hey, I promise, I win this in the end."
I hope you do, 'Arry,she answered silently, knowing that he wasn't answering her worries, but hoping all the same.
There was an uproar in the Pensieve when the basilisk made its appearance.
"That bloody thing has to be sixty feet long," Charlie cried, taking a couple unnecessary steps back.
They watched in horror as a young and wandless Harry closed his eyes and tried to run, tripping before Salazar Slytherin's pet monster struck where his head had just been. No one blamed the memory of Harry for putting on the Sorting Hat and pulling it down over his eyes.
A few seconds later, Sirius mumbled, "I'll be damned," as the twelve year old pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor.
Disbelief was evident in every adult face as they saw the younger Harry, now armed, turn to face the blinded pet. The disbelief turned to pride as he thrust the blade deep into the roof of the basilisk's mouth, blood flooding over Harry's upper body.
But Fleur shuddered when she saw the overgrown snake return the favor, driving a fang deep into the twelve year old boy's arm, flooding his body with poison. As the memory of Harry slid down the wall to lie dying on the floor, she turned away and buried her head in Harry's chest.
He put his arms around her and whispered with amusement, "It's okay, you don't even have to fix me up this time."
Fleur wanted to cry, hit him, and kiss him all at the same time. To joke about a thing like this! How does he—
The piercing scream of the diary made her jump. Harry caught her in mid-air, holding her tightly against his body. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered into his ear. "As zhe English say, 'Always zhe bloody 'ero,' aren't you?"
Harry smiled as he let her down. Fleur slipped a hand around him and he did the same. They walked out of the chamber arm and arm, following the memory of Harry. Fleur was struck by how tender the younger Harry was with Ginny, reassuring her as they walked through the gloomy tunnel.
The irony wasn't lost on Fleur as she followed the Ginny and the young hero – the same hero that later saved the French Witch's life. She was deep in thought as her feet hit the ground in the Burrow. It was no wonder Ginny's devotion to Harry had grown, no wonder a witch so young could write letters to him with so much passion and conviction, and no wonder how a witch her age could stand shoulder to shoulder with others against the onslaught of death.
And Fleur had to be willing to do the same, even if 'Arry didn't like it. She decided to tell them that night, after the meeting.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Harry's owl showed up a little later in the day.
"Hedwig!" Harry chirped in surprise as the owl landed and nipped at him. "I've missed you too, girl."
Harry fed his owl and looked it over for any signs of distress. Hedwig nipped affectionately at his fingers and ears, staying close to him. Harry introduced the owl to Fleur and she gave it a few extra treats while fawning over it until Hedwig included her in the affectionate nipping.
Since it was time to eat, Fleur took the owl outside to let it hunt for a more satisfying dinner. But the owl didn't fly off right away. Instead, it landed on the table and waited for Fleur, seemingly anticipating that she wanted to say something.
"You're a smart owl, aren't you?" Fleur cooed.
She would've sworn the single hoot was an answer and thought for a second before asking her next question.
"You know I'm part Veela, don't you?" she asked, beginning to understand why the owl had taken to her as well as it had.*
The owl hooted again, then stared towards the house, back to Fleur, back to the house, and back to Fleur again.
"Oui," she answered, figuring the owl wanted to know if she really cared for Harry. The soft hooting and pecking at her fingers confirmed it for her.
"Now listen," Fleur said after a few seconds. "'Arry and I might 'ave to escape to France if something 'appens. If we do, will you be able to find us?"
The owl turned to the East and gave a loud hoot. Fleur laughed.
"Sorry, I had to ask. Not very many owls are as smart as you. 'Arry is very lucky to 'ave you."
The owl gave another soft hoot and nipped her on the finger again.
"I like you too, 'Edwig. Now go off and 'unt." She thought about sending the owl to her parents with a note, but there was too much to say. She decided it would be better to Portkey home for an afternoon instead.
Maybe she could get Harry to go with her and they could stay a bit longer. . . even be uninterrupted long enough for her to kiss him like a Veela should. . . like a witch should.
Why not both? Fleur giggled, and realized she'd done that more in the last day than she had in the last five years combined.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Professor McGonagall came through the back door in the early evening. Seeing Harry, she buried him in a hug worthy of Mrs. Weasley then stepped back and wiped away a few tears, righted herself, and became the "Professor McGonagall" that Harry knew. After that, the Burrow quickly filled up and Harry found himself sitting on the floor in the corner of the sitting room with Neville, Susan, Cho, Su Li, and of course, Fleur, who was sitting on a small footstool behind him. Harry was leaning back against Fleur's legs as she rested her chin on his head, her arms were draped over the front of him and across his chest.
"It's good to know you take advice so well," Susan teased Harry.
"And work so fast," Cho added.
"Well, a little provocation 'elped," purred a content part Veela.
As if on command, Harry turned red once more, thinking at the same time that he had to stop blushing at every little tease she directed at him.
A voice Harry wasn't as familiar with chimed out, "It's about time he got a witch."
They all turned to Su Li, a petite, cute little Fourth Year that Harry hadn't said much more than 'hi' to in all his time at Hogwarts.
"What?" she asked. "Do you know what it's like having to listen to witches pine away for him?"
"Yes!" Susan and Cho answered rather quickly.
Neville broke out in laughter and leaned over to Harry. "Bet you wished you knew about this a couple years ago, eh? Should've settled for the average looking squib role like me."
Susan cleared her throat. "Not according to a couple witches in Hufflepuff, or the Ravenclaw witch your lips seem permanently attached to in the last couple days." She shot a playful look at Su Li.
"What?" she answered. "I'm was just impressed with the way he handles his wand."
A moment of silence followed her comment before she realized what she had said. "NO! Not like that. I meant the one he just learned how to really use a couple days ago!"
"When you stayed with him all night?" Cho asked.
"Yeah."
Guffaws rang out.
"NO! You perverts! When we spent the night– oh forget it!"
Harry, who'd been watching the whole thing, raised an eyebrow to Neville.
Though embarrassed, Neville shrugged and leaned over to Su Li.
"Um, thanks for defending my honor, but next time, maybe we should leave it undefended."
She swatted him on the shoulder and pushed him away, only to latch on and pull him right back, leaning her head against him.
Harry felt Fleur tightening her arms around him as well and he looked up to find her practically glowing. At least one thing seems to have turned out okay in my world. He looked back over at Neville. Alright, two things. Though out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice the flash of grief Cho was trying to hide. It was hard to watch, harder still since the grief was caused by Cedric saving his life.
Harry was rattled from his thoughts by Sirius calling the meeting to order and introducing Professor Moody (even though he didn't teach Harry, the title stuck with him in Harry's mind).
"We need to get some particulars out of the way," Professor Moody began. "First, a reminder; we have all made wizarding oaths to the Order. I remind you that what is said in this room will not be spoken outside this group. To do so will cause severe pain and death. That was part of the vow each of you voluntarily took. The only ones not under that vow are the six teenagers sitting in the corner and they have attacked or killed Death Eaters already. That means every one of them are targeted for death and not a risk, especially Potter. Even so, they will not sit through the entire meeting.
"Second, this is not the same war that was fought a decade and a half ago. That war was a slow, methodical advance against our society. This war follows the Muggle Nazi doctrine of Blitzkreig, or 'Lightning war'. Voldemort; THAT'S RIGHT I SAID VOLDEMORT"—Moody thundered when half the gathering flinched at the name—"has been heavily recruiting for some time right under the nose of the Ministry. Last night, we received word that he has close to a thousand Death Eaters at his command."
Dismay ran through the Order. "How sure are we of the information and the source?" someone asked.
"Very. Those of you who were part of the first Order remember that Severus Snape spied for us towards the end of that war. After the slaughter at Hogwarts, he was able to slip back in with the Death Eaters and Apparate with them to their master. He got a firsthand account last night of their numbers and also told us that Voldemort—IT'S ONLY A DAMN NAME PEOPLE—was planning on moving fast. He found Minerva and informed her this morning, but none of us expected VOLDEMORT"—his magical eye spun in its socket, challenging someone to flinch at the name—"to move as fast as he has."
"How did he get so many followers?" a witch asked.
"I said he was heavily recruiting, didn't I?" Moody sniped. He didn't like repeating himself.
Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "Before the ministry fell this afternoon, we had received reports of prison breaks."
"Azkaban?" Charlie inquired.
"I said breaks, plural. Not just Azkaban, but Wizarding prisons of South Africa, India, the US, Australia, Russia, Zambia, and Yemen, and probably other we don't know about. Next you're going to be asking how we found out about all of them. . . we were notified."
"What? Why were you notified of a prison break in Zambia or China?" Sirius asked.
"Same reason Panama notified us when they almost caught you," Shacklebolt answered.
"Oh, Merlin's nutsack." Sirius turned whiter than any ghost at Hogwarts that Harry could remember.
"Don't tell me," Remus whispered.
"Yeah," Sirius said, then looked at everyone else. "I'm a subject of the British crown under the magical government, as is everyone else born here."
"So?" someone asked, but Harry could tell more and more people were beginning to understand.
Shacklebolt clarified the problem. "We get a report every time a magical subject of the Crown is arrested, released, or breaks out of prison in a foreign country. We crosschecked the names this morning and of the seven prisons outside the UK where we know a break happened, all seven had at least four British magical subjects that were imprisoned six to nine months ago. Anyone care to guess what mark every one of them had on their forearm?
"All of them?" A witch that looked like an older version of the Holyhead Harpies's captain asked.
"Every one of them. From what we can tell, they were all mid-level Death Eaters in the last war. Every prison reports the majority of those that escaped, had become loyal to them."
Charlie was incensed. "You're telling me that Death Eaters went recruiting in the largest and most dangerous Wizarding prisons in the world?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Shacklebolt answered. "And worse, they were highly successful. The last count puts the total breakout at close to three hundred people. Including those that escaped from Azkaban, that makes up almost half the total count Severus gave us, all with time in prison, and most of those for serious crimes against Muggles or Muggleborns."
"Damn," Sirius said for the now silent Order. "We're going to have to be very careful. Speaking of which, as much as I loathe Snivellus, you were wrong to reveal his work for the Order, Alastor. The Moody I knew in the last—"
It was Harry and Neville's disarming spells that hit Moody first, followed almost instantly by three more from the other teenagers who sat a year under a fake Professor Moody's teachings. Moody took the spells in the chest, flipping him over a chair and into a wall where he fell into a heap as his wand landed at Harry and Neville's feet.
Shacklebolt stepped between Moody and the teenagers.
"CEASE YOUR HEXING!" He commanded. "This is the real Moody. He shared the name and actions of Severus Snape with you because Severus was killed this morning."
More murmurs ran through the gathered group, but Professor Moody, who had pulled himself back up to lean against the wall, put his hand up and stopped it. "If you don't believe Shacklebolt, watch the memories in the Pensieve on the attack of Diagon Alley. Someone had a wand on Potter. Snape noticed and killed him, only to be cut down by other Death Eaters that saw what he had done.
"How do you know it was Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked.
Moody came around the chair and sat down. His magical eye whizzed around the room once before settling on Harry and Neville. "No one can cast the Killing Curse silently. I recognized his voice."
"We need to move on," Shacklebolt instructed the Order. "Enough talk of the battle this afternoon, or we'll never get through the meeting."
"I agree," Moody said as he stood up again to finish his speech.
"Third, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he bellowed as people jumped. Harry and the others chuckled. They figured the real Professor Moody would have done much the same as the fake. Harry could see Tonks laughing on the other side of the room as well.
"Before you leave here tonight," The retired Auror continued, "congratulate those two young wizards over there for beating me to the wand. As soon as something didn't look right, they disarmed me. This war is not about friends, people. It was a friend that made Potter an orphan and put Longbottom's parents in St. Mungo's, permanently mad!"
Harry had to fight with ever last fiber of his being to not curse the ex-Auror again. It was only the arms of Fleur and her whispering in his ear that stopped him. A quick glance at Neville showed Su Li doing much the same for him.
"You may think that is harsh on those two young wizards," Moody nodded to them, "but every person here must understand the reality of what happened. Always keep your wand at your ready. There is only one way to be alive at the end of the war.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
A little while later, the six teenagers headed upstairs to Ginny's bedroom, but Cho and Susan kicked out Neville and Harry "to talk with their witches, alone," as they put it.
Said wizards were worried.
"What do you think. . . ?" Neville trailed off, casting a worried look at the door they'd just been ushered out of.
"I have no idea," Harry answered. "Sirius told me that he thinks even Dumbledore isn't smart enough to understand witches."
Neville grunted in agreement.
"So, you and Su Li?" Harry asked as they sat down on the landing, half a flight up from the bedroom. They could hear the witches giggling and laughing.
"Yeah, I guess so. A lot has changed in the last forty-eight hours. Can you imagine that I'm able to do magic without blowing anything up?"
Harry shot him a quirked smile. "Can you imagine people actually believe me about something?"
They eyed each other for a second before howling with laughter.
"I'm not sure what's funnier—that, or the fact that there are four witches in that room talking about the two of us," Neville said when he caught his breath.
Harry, who was still laughing, sobered quickly. "There's nothing funny about that. It's downright scary is what it is."
"I think you're right," Neville said after a moment of pondering. "I'm not sure what's worse, teenage witches or the Death Eaters."
A moment later they both quipped, "Teenage witches," and laughed again.
Finally, Neville had to ask, "You and Fleur? How did. . . ?"
"We're not, officially—though we are, kind of, if that makes any sense?"
"No, but once again we're talking about witches, so that's probably the best we're going to get."
Harry grinned, finding it oddly comforting talking with Neville.
Laughter broke out from the bedroom again. "It's good to hear them laughing," Neville said quietly. "Most of the last two days have been filled with mourning."
Harry thought about that for a second. "What about you?"
"Me? I guess I'm used to it in some way. It's different, but this isn't my first loss." He looked Harry dead in the eye. "You know what I mean. The whole damn house knows what I mean thanks to Moody."
"Yeah," Harry said, lost in his thoughts again. He couldn't get over the change in Neville. It wasn't that his entire personality had changed, but there was a fundamental difference in him that Harry couldn't put his finger on.
Neville seemed to come to the same conclusion about Harry. "You've changed, mate."
"I was thinking the same thing about you. What happened?"
"Those damn Death Eaters attacked, that's what happened."
Harry saw a wave of emotion overtake Neville and when he began speaking again, there was a deep sense of pain and an ocean of anger.
"When the Death Eaters came, one of them cast a dark cutting curse into the stands for no damn reason at all. I knew where it was headed and I knew what to do, but I couldn't get my magic to work. I tried, Merlin, I tried, but I couldn't cast the charm because I was too weak and that damn curse hit a cute little Second Year, tore right through her body. I held her in my arms Harry. I held her in my arms as she died because I was an effing squib that couldn't produce a simple, bloody Shield Charm . . ."
Harry sat silently as Neville fought through another rush of emotions.
He looked up, tears brimming. "I held her. I kept apologizing over and over for not being able to save her, not being good enough to protect her. I held her as she bled out in my arms. She was scared, confused . . . I'll never forget her eyes when she died, they just went blank. I still see them in my dreams."
"I'm sorry, Neville." Harry didn't know what else to say.
"Then I heard her voice," Neville spat out.
"Hervoice?" Harry repeated.
"Yeah, the same voice that I hear whenever Dementors are too close, just before I hear my parents. It's the only time I've ever heard them talk."
Harry leaned back against the wall, thinking hard. He and Neville were the same age. If Neville had never heard them talk, that meant . . . "When did it happen?" he finally asked.
"November first, 1981."
"The day after . . ." Harry was taken aback by how intertwined his and Neville's lives actually were.
"Bloody convenient coincidence isn't it?" Neville asked. "Makes you wonder just what happened the week our parents were destroyed."
Harry rolled his wand in his fingers, thinking about the screams he heard every time the guards of Azkaban got too close. He felt oddly comforted now, knowing that someone else knew his hell.
Neville leaned back. "Last year, when the Dementors came near, I could hear my parents being tortured. I heard Bellatrix Lestrange cackle with laughter while crying out "Crucio." That's why I just about went around the twist in class the day we were shown the Unforgivables.
"The night before last, While I was watching that little girl die, I heard her. I heard the bitch that destroy my parents and I wanted revenge. I wanted blood. Everything just exploded inside of me. All the magic that I had somehow dammed up, came out. I got so mad all I could think about was killing. I cast so many curses my wand began to glow. I even started casting curses through Shield Charms and killed a Death Eater with a Body-bind Jinx. That's not supposed to happen, Harry. There's no way that I should be able to do that."
Harry blew out a gust of air. "How?"
"I asked Madame Bones and Professor McGonagall the same thing. They think that I pushed so much anger and pain into my magic that it broke whatever was holding it back all these years. It all came rushing out that night and that's what made my spells so overly powerful. They think that the Body-bind jinx literally bound his heart, keeping it from beating."
Harry sat, wide-eyed.
"And you know something else? I'm ashamed to admit this to them"—he gestured to the witches in the room below them—"but there was a part of me that liked it. When my magic began to pour out, a part of me felt a vengeance and wanted to kill more of them. I didn't want to stop. I wanted to kill until every last one of them was dead."
"I know exactly what you mean," Harry whispered.
Neville wiped the remaining moisture away from his eyes. "Have you ever heard of the Muggle term, Bloodlust?"
"I've heard of it, but never really knew what it meant."
"I read a Muggle book a couple years ago that had the term in it and looked it up. It's an 'insatiable desire to shed blood.' Interesting that I remembered that after one read, but I can't remember anything else, isn't it? Anyway, that's what I think I had that night and it's beginning to scare me. Why would I have it? Why would I enjoy killing them so much?"
"I don't know."
"Have you ever had it?"
"I. . ." Harry stopped and decided that of anyone, anywhere in the world that could understand what he was going through, it'd be Neville. After what Harry had found out over the last couple of days, he was starting to see much of his story in Neville, and also beginning to see in him a kindred spirit—that spirit might very well be Ankou, the Breton mythological personification of death himself, but a kindred spirit nonetheless.
"Yeah, I have," Harry confessed. "When we left the graveyard and went back to Hogwarts, Death Eaters ambushed Fleur and Krum. I was on my broom—"
"That figures," Neville interrupted with a snort, "best place for you to be, probably pretty effective, too."
Harry gave him a small grin. "I made one pass and hit the Death Eaters with a couple curses, but before I could come around for a second one, I saw Krum being hit with the Killing Curse."
Neville nodded. "There were a lot of those that night."
"Yeah, well, then I did it. Twice, killing two Death Eaters. After that, I landed, cast the biggest Serpensentia Charm you would have ever seen and told the snake to go kill more of them. Today, I threw a cutter spell I learned about the other day and literally sliced a wand in half as the Death Eater tried to block it."
Neville cocked an eyebrow. "And you were surprised by my Body-bind jinx?"
"Yeah, well, I summoned four more snakes and sent them off to kill the Death Eaters, didn't even care. I wanted them to die. I wanted to stay in the alley and cause them pain. I wanted to see the alley filled with black robes and blood. I got so mad when Remus grabbed my arm and Apparated that I wanted to stun him as well."
"We were at Madame Bones's office today when it happened," Neville said after Harry took a couple breaths to calm himself.
"Tonks told us when we were in Diagon Alley. I thought you were all dead."
"We thought the same about you, figuring they were going to hit Diagon Alley as soon as the Ministry fell. I think that's why those two Aurors went back after you."
"They arrived about five seconds before the Death Eaters. Remus asked about Madame Bones and Tonks told him all of you were with her and she didn't know if you had made it out. What happened?"
"We were in Susan's aunt's office. I came out and saw bodies of Hit Wizards and Aurors I had just been talking with, flipped right out my cauldron and went off to kill something—didn't even consider them human after that. I started cutting down anything that wore a black robe and mask. What's wrong with me? That's not how a fourteen year old is supposed to act, is it?"
Harry smirked. "Are you seriously asking me if it is normal for an underage wizard to take stupidly big risks by rushing off into situations he knows little-to-nothing about and start cursing things on a whim?"
"I guess you have a point there," Neville conceded. They both laughed, breaking the tension of the moment.
Harry suddenly felt the need to confess something, even though part of his rational mind questioned why he was beginning to act so out of character by being open and honest about such things. He didn't know whether it was because of what was happening with Fleur, or because he and Neville did have so much in common. Maybe it was just everything that had happened over the last few days, but Harry felt like he had to tell Neville.
"I don't know if I'm going to live through this, I don't know if I want to."
Neville was gazing down the stairwell. "I know. I've been thinking about the same thing. I'll tell you this, though, there is no way in hell I am going to end up like my parents. I'm finished Harry. Lovable but buggered Neville is gone. I'll Crucio every black robed bastard between here and Diagon Alley before I end up like them."
"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. But what happens if we end up like Voldemort instead?"
Neville slowly raised his eyes, set his jaw firmly, and pushed his shoulders back before facing Harry. "If I end up like Voldemort, then you'll kill me. If you end up like him, then I'll kill you. It's what friends do."
Harry thought about it for a second and nodded, realizing he had just promised to possibly kill the last remaining Gryffindor that he called a friend.
They sat in silence until the meeting below came to a close a few minutes later.
Descending the stairs, Harry knocked on the door of the room they had earlier been banished from. The four girls poured out, pink cheeked and giggly. Even Fleur, who always carried herself in a demure manner, had the look of a flibbertigibbet; it made Harry laugh and that was saying something considering the conversation he just had.
Downstairs, Madame Bones addressed the students. "As you know, Minister Fudge was killed in the attack at the Tri-wizard tournament, which made me the emergency Minister of Magic over the last legitimate government of Wizarding Britain. As such, I am instructing you to not take part in this war until you're of age, except in self-defense, and only if there is no other escape."
Harry and Neville looked at each other, took a deep breath each, and opened their mouths to argue.
"However," she said, holding her hand up to cut off their protests before they even started, "since it looks like I have two hard-headed, consequences-be-damned Gryffindors here, as well as a few witches that are too stubborn for their own good – yes, Susan, I am including you – you should note that my last act before the Ministry fell was cancelling the traces on all children over the age of twelve. The last thing I want is Death Eaters using the trace to find or track a family. But that does not mean that any of you have a license to put yourselves in danger, do you understand me boys?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Ladies?"
"Yes, ma'am.
"Ms. Delacour. I am sorry to say I was not able to get into contact with your father through the French ministry. I am sure your family is very worried about you. Did you take care of that thing we talked about?"
"Yes, ma'am. I 'ave it with me at all times."
"Good. Remember my warning."
"I will, but since I am of age and 'ave seen what these bâtards 'ave done, I would like to join the Order."
"NO!" Harry shouted.
Fleur put a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes, but continued talking to Madame Bones. "This way, I can know what is 'appening and make plans for 'Arry and I to be safe until the time comes. I take it you 'ave all been told that it's been prophesied 'Arry will be a part of the war?"
Harry knew they had to tell the Order something concerning the prophecy and Fleur's way of putting it made sense, but he did not want her to be a part of the Order. It was his job to protect her. Not the other way around.
"Good, zhen I can be a go-between zhat keeps 'Arry one step away, but close enough to know what is 'appening. I will take the vow so there is no doubt about my loyalty."
"I said 'NO!' damn it!" Harry yelled again.
"That is not for you to decide, 'Arry. We must all do our part. You 'ave yours, would you deny me mine?"
Harry glared at her, wanting to scream to the heavens that it was exactly what he wanted to deny her, but he knew it wouldn't work, so instead he settled for being brassed-off something terrible.
The younger witches were all smirking, though Harry had no idea why. Neville, he could see, was just as incensed, like Harry thought a true Gryffindor should be, but since it wasn't his fight, he kept out of it.
"Good to see you're keeping our Gryffindors chivalrous, Minerva," Charlie interjected from the side of the room.
"Yeah, but chivalry only gets you so far, or don't you remember?" Tonks cut in, to his embarrassment. Others laughed politely at Tonks's awkward attempt to break the tension.
Twenty minutes later everyone had gone home, though Tonks stayed to help clean up.
As soon as possible, Harry trounced upstairs and went to bed. The door opened a short time later.
"'Arry? Can we talk?"
Harry rolled over to face her, but didn't say a word. He couldn't. She looked so beautiful, standing in the moonlight that illuminated the room through the windows, but it was the vulnerability that shone in her face and her body language that made him want to get on his knees and beg forgiveness for yelling at her earlier.
He decided he couldn't do it.
"Are you mad at me, 'Arry?"
"No," he said too fast, cringing and waiting for the 'don't lie to me' mantra he knew to be coming.
It did, but a lot softer than he expected. "I know you're lying, 'Arry, you're not very good at it."
"Then why ask?" Harry regretted it as soon as the words escaped his lips. He heard Fleur suck in a sharp gasp of air just before he clarified. "I didn't mean it like that."
Fleur sat on the edge of his bed. "I would be lying if I said I was not upset with you," she began. "But I am thankful that you want to protect me. I know that is why you are mad that I 'ave joined the Order. The young witches were very informative about you."
Harry couldn't stop the hint of fear that surfaced.
Fleur laughed. "You are such a puzzle. You 'ave faced so much, but fear giggling teenage witches. So many things 'ave 'appened to you, but your 'eart is still so beautiful. Please don't ever change that. It is one of your most charmantes qualités."
"English?" Harry asked.
"Just like it sounds, it's one of your most charming qualities."
"Oh. Well, since we're on charming qualities," Harry began, his voice dripping with sweetness. "One of your most charming qualities is that you're breathing, don't every change that—oh, wait; you started to by joining the Order, didn't you? Never mind."
He missed Fleur's stunned look or the tears he caused when he rolled over and faced the wall, unable to cope with his own fears and emotions that were welling up inside. He had no words to describe what he was feeling, no ability to even process it. This wasn't about what happened at Hogwarts. It wasn't even about what happened at the grave yard. This was about what was happening in his own soul—in his own heart, and what could happen to someone else who happened to find her way into it.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Harry woke up to the sound of a loud ping, a second one brought him upright in bed.
What is that?
He reached over to the nightstand and put on his glasses, looking over to see Fleur sleeping peacefully in the other bed. He could feel her magic pushing images into his mind, though from this distance it was much weaker. It surprised Harry that it didn't feel like a violation of his person. Instead, it felt intimate, like she was opening a precious part of herself to him, and only him.
Harry closed his eyes and wondered again why she cared so much. Could Sirius have been right? He smiled as he thought about their almost kiss and holding her hand in the Pensieve, not to mention how they were sitting during the meeting with her arms draped over him.
Then she had to join the Order.
He walked over to the window on the other side of the room and looked out, trying to figure out what woke him up.
PING!
He saw movement just beyond the Burrow's outer Protective Charms.
"Damn it," he breathed. The next moment it sounded like a hailstorm on a tin roof.
Death Eaters had misjudged and Apparated into the Protective Charms, bouncing off them and landing in the back field.
They had finally come.
"Fleur! Wake up!"
She stirred and turned over in her bed. "'Arry? Etes-vous d'avoir de mauvais rêves encore?"
"English," he snapped.
She mistook the urgency in his voice for anger and sat up, confused. "Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night to yell at me?"
Harry ignored the question. With a wave of his wand and a vanishing charm, his nightclothes were gone.
"'Arry, what are you doing?"
"Keeping you breathing," he answered a little vindictively, driven by the fear of what might happen if she didn't get out beyond the Protective Charms and Apparate to France.
Another series of pings rang in the room.
"What was that?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling.
"Death Eaters. About forty of them now. They began Apparating in about a minute ago. Get up and get dressed, make sure you have your Portkey with you.
Fleur jumped out of bed. "I'm going to my room to change and get my things. Is your trunk ready?"
"For what?" Harry asked, confused.
"To Portkey with me to France!"
"I'm not going."
Fleur opened her mouth to argue, but it was drowned out by more Death Eaters Apparating in and bouncing off the Charms.
"'Ow long can the protections 'old?"
"I don't know, their oldest son was curse-breaker, so their charms are probably decent, but I don't want to push it. Go, get dressed."
Fleur grabbed her wand, ran out of the room and down the stairs, putting off the argument she was about to have with Harry until more adults were around.
Back in the room, Harry got dressed, slipped his bag of gold and his books into his robe (and sealed it) just in case they were forced from the Burrow, and ran out the door. He headed down the flight of stairs to the next floor, barging into Sirius's room.
"Wake up!"
"Harry? What's wrong?"
"Death Eaters! They're just outside the Protective Charms."
Sirius jumped out of bed already dressed and grabbed his wand. He and Harry ran down two more flights of stairs to Fleur's room and without thinking, crashed through the door.
"Harry, take Fleur on your broom to clear the wards, then land somewhere safe."
Sirius turned to Fleur. "As soon as he gets clear, both of you use that Portkey, got it?"
"Oui."
"Sirius, I'm not running." Harry argued. "I'm staying with you."
"No you're not! You're going with Fleur and figuring out your next steps in France, do you understand? That means figure it out, not doing something stupid like your father and I would have done. You are smarter and better than us Harry. Good luck."
He gave Harry a quick squeeze, then released him and turning to Fleur, enveloped her in a tight hug to whisper in her ear.
"Get my godson out of Britain and if I don't see you again, take care of him, please." Before she could say anything, Sirius ran out of the room and down the stairs.
Harry looked out of the window to see five dark figures running out of the house, one of them morphing into a very small, slender little girl with very little area to target. He started towards the door to follow them to the battle, but Fleur stepped in front of him.
"If you stay, then I stay."
"NO! You heard Madame Bones. They'll. . ." he couldn't even bring himself to say it.
"Then you are coming with me."
Harry fumed, but there wasn't anything else he could do except grit his teeth in anger for not being with his godfather. Quickly, he summoned his broom and motioned Fleur behind him. When it reached him, they both stepped over it and she put her arms around his waist, holding on tight. In the waning moments before they flew out of the window, she couldn't help but look over at the letters sitting on the nightstand and wonder how often Ginny had wanted to sit on a broom like this with Harry.
A moment later, they were in the air. Harry immediately dove for speed, then pulled out, lancing across the backyard while slowly climbing higher to give him better vision of what was happening. Fleur already had her wand out, spells slicing through the air. Harry had his wand in-hand as well, casting spells left and right. He heard yelling in the distance and turned the broom that way, diving for more speed and streaking across the ground as fast as he could push the broom. He didn't slow down when he hit the tree line where the smaller of the two battles was taking place. He yanked the broom left, then right, up over a branch and right gain, then left, only to come too close to a tree trunk. He yanked the broom to the right and held on tight as he felt a bump, then pulling up over a branch and dove below another. Fleur's head was buried in his back, not wanting to watch.
Harry veered the broom to the right and flew towards the battle, casting three curses and hoping the Body-binds would hold - maybe he would get lucky enough to kill one of them like Neville did.
Harry and Fleur broke out of the tree line and raced through the field, coming upon a staggered line holding off too many Death Eaters. But a bright green flash flared in front of him.
To his horror, Mrs. Weasley froze in mid-curse, then fell to the ground, unmoving as she joined her family in the ethereal existence.
Harry screamed in rage and raised his wand to collect the newly incurred blood debt, but before he could kill the Death Eater, Fleur leaned into him even more and whispered, "Take me 'ome, 'Arry. We'll regroup and come back a 'undred times stronger, just like your godfather wants. Take me 'ome so we can plan our revenge."
Somehow her voice broke through Harry's wrath. He wrenched up on his broom and shot out into the night.
Fleur continued to lean into him, crying over the death of Molly and heartbroken at the loss that her hero, her amour had to endure in his life.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
A minute later, they set down on the same hill that Harry and the others had used to travel by Portkey to the World Cup the previous summer.
Fleur took out the Portkey and gave it to him to hold on to. "Okay 'Arry, I will activate it and we will 'ave five seconds.
She touched it with her wand and they watched as it began to glow. She took hold of it as well, standing inches away from him and stared into his eyes.
At the count of three, she noticed they became distant, as if he had just resolved himself about something.
She was right. At the count of one, Harry let go of the Portkey.
"QUE? NON!" Fleur launched herself at him, wrapping her legs and an arm around his body. With the other hand, she pressed the Portkey tightly against his bare skin.
Fleur felt the yank just behind her belly button and held on tightly to Harry. Ten seconds later, they tumbled to the ground in France.
A very large, peaceful home spread out before them a few hundred feet away.
Harry got up and faced Fleur. She could see anger smoldering in the same eyes that were so distant just a few seconds ago, but before Harry could get a word out, she slapped him across the face.
"Never do that to me again! 'Ow dare you!"
Fleur turned on her heal and walked off into the sunrise just breaking over the horizon. At the top of the little knoll where the home sat, she turned back to see that Harry hadn't moved, except to stare into the west and the darkness of night.
She turned around and walked back down the knoll. "Come, it's been a hard morning already and the sun 'as just risen.
Harry remained silent.
Fleur came closer and softened her voice even more. "You scared me when you let go of the Portkey, 'Arry. Let's get to the 'ouse. We can relax and talk in there."
"Talk," Harry said. "Something I'll never hear her do again."
Fleur stopped dead in her tracks. She'd heard that voice once before, two days ago as Harry knelt beside his Headmaster and watched him die.
Silently, she took his hand and led him off to the top of the knoll and into the Delacour home, where she guided Harry to a room before waking up her parents. He was in no shape to meet them now, nor had he said anything else since landing in France.
Fleur came out of Harry's room and walked down the hall to the other end of the house, where she opened her parents' bedroom door.
"Gabrielle, are you okay?" her mother asked.
"No, Maman, it's me, Fleur."
Apolline Delacour threw her covers back and hurtled off the end of the bed.
"FLEUR! OH MY BABY FLEUR. YOU'RE ALIVE!"
"What?" Jacque Delacour asked sleepily.
"Your daughter is home!" she yelled.
He jumped out of bed and crushed both mother and daughter in a hug. Fleur, hugging them back, broke down in tears.
Her parents held her and let her cry, gently lowering her to the floor when she couldn't hold up her own body weight anymore. Jacque finally had to get his wand and cast a privacy charm so Fleur's wailing wouldn't wake up her sister, who was still going through her transformation.
He flashed a look over Fleur at his wife after a few minutes and they communicated silently.
"Ma Petite, are you hurt?" her mother asked.
Fleur held on tighter and cried harder, almost sending her parents into a frenzy.
"Do you need a Healer?" Papa asked this time.
She shook her head no.
After more crying than both parents combined had seen from her in the last five years, Fleur was able to calm down a little, though tears still leaked from the corners of her eyes.
"How did you get back to France?" Her father asked, figuring it would be a safe question.
"Portkey," she answered, then remembered who she came with and had blink a few times to be able to see again.
"Did you make it?" he continued "Not that I'm upset. It's just that if you did, I'll make the arrangements to pay the fine."
"I did, but don't worry Papa, it was legal."
He looked over her head at her mother again, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to acknowledge what he knew now to be true. Jacque Delacour knew the only way an international Portkey made by a non-government agency could be legal.
"Fleur, what are you telling me?"
"They're at war again, Papa." Fleur buried her face in her hands. "We were attacked in the middle of the night and had to leave. I had to force him to leave the only family he ever knew, force him to abandon them only to see his adopted maman killed before his eyes as we flew past on his broom."
"Him, killed?" both parents mouthed to the other.
"Oh my god Maman what am I going to do? He's going to hate me. I forced him to come to France. I didn't let him go back . . . and then, and then I slapped him! OH GOD what was I thinking!"
Fleur broke out in sobs again, safe at home. Then she remembered that 'home' was something Harry never really had and now, after Molly's death, whatever little amount of it he did have at the Burrow, he would never be able to have again.
So much loss for someone so young.
She sobbed even harder.
Her parents continued to hold her, but finally her mother had to ask, "Who is he? Who are you talking about and where is he now?"
"In the guest bedroom at the other end of the hall." Fleur choked out.
"That's the end of the hall you're sister is in." her father reminded her. "Are you sure—"
Fleur gained a little more control of herself. "She won't mind, trust me Papa."
The parents looked at each other once more over Fleur's shoulders, confusion and frustration evident. Her father kneeled before her and gently pulled her hands from her face. It was a puffy, red mess by this point.
"Fleur," – he tried to keep his voice light and a little playful so what he asked didn't sound accusatory – "could you tell your mother and me who it is that your sister doesn't mind having in the bedroom just down the hall from her?"
"Her hero, 'Arry Potter."
"Oh, dear god in heaven."
END OF PART I