When a Veela Cries

by E.C. Scrubb

A tale of rage and revenge, of loss beyond what any person should have to bear . . . and a tale of love, Harry's only hope out of the darkness.

19. Descent

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Chapter Nineteen

Descent

Harry relaxed on the small couch in the larger sitting room. Dinner was great, and he was stuffed from the stewed moose meat, which, to his surprise, he enjoyed. Gabrielle sat next to him and refused to move when Fleur walked in. She pointed to Harry's lap and said something that sounded like "Gid-de-up." He didn't know what it meant, but figured it was an Americanism that she had learned from her friend since Professor Sirko laughed so hard he almost spilled his beer.

Minister Philippe and Mr. Delacour were on the other side of the Professor, both sipping on their own bottles of Molson and eyeing the liquid with reluctant approval. Mum, Anastasie, and Maryse sat in chairs and conjured lounges on the far side of the room. Sirius and Charlie were at the meeting, too. Minister Anselme suggested inviting them yesterday and sent a falcon with a Portkey. He met them earlier at the Ministry and shuttled them to the house.

Next to Anastasie sat an older but still striking Veela. Her silver mane cascaded over her shoulders, framing a youthful face and typical blue eyes. These however, burned with intensity at Harry.

"So, you killed a few more of the black-robed sons of bitches, did you?"

"Don't encourage him," Fleur said.

"And why not?" Those eyes shifted to Fleur and softened. "Be proud of a wizard that can face his enemies like a man, and be even prouder that he chose to do so instead of leaving a small town in the hands of robed devils with the penchant for the Killing Curse."

"I am. I'd just prefer that he wouldn't ignorantly tempt the fates while doing it."

Those eyes turned back to Harry. "She has a point. And may I add, if you ever do it again, leave one alive."

That was a strange request. "Why?"

"When you put on a show like that, you want them to tell others. The effects on morale are devastating."

Harry thought about that. It reminded him of that Muggle he read about last summer. "I guess that makes sense."

"Good." She winked at Fleur. "My grandson takes instruction well. I think you're going to have fun teaching him a few things."

"Grandma!" Fleur said. "Be good!"

Sirius choked on his beer. "Grandma?"

"When has being good ever been any fun?" Grandma Guillory turned to Sirius. "Yes, Grandma. And I consider 'Arry a grandson. My daughter has ministered to him in ways that are only given to Veela-children. In the older days, that meant she adopted him among the Veela community."

She looked back at Harry and Fleur. "Though, I think a slightly different interpretation is necessary here, or that's a very disturbing scene of sibling love."

"Alright, behave," Mum said, "Or I'll have Jacque try to throw you out of the house again." All the Veela in the room laughed at the inside story, piquing Harry's curiosity, but he wouldn't get a chance to ask about it.

Professor Sirko tipped his bottle back and finished it off while. "Sorry to change the mood, but I need to get back to the school in a couple of hours. Ministers, what questions do you have for me?"

The feeling in the room took on a serious tone. Minister Anselme asked, "I speak not well English. We can change for French?"

Everyone around the circle nodded except Sirius.

"Don't worry," Charlie said. "I'll translate for him. We had a number of French workers on the reservation and I picked it and a couple other languages up. We had to find some way to make sure they weren't cheating us in our weekend poker tournaments."

"Then we get started." Minister Anselme switched to French and focused on the Professor. "How often do students visit Bremen?"

"Except for the Head boy and/or Head girl, almost never." Professor Sirko answered in English so Charlie didn't have to translate.

Minister Anselme frowned. "Why's that?"

"There's not much in Bremen unless you grew up in the area. We get our supplies there since the shops give us a great price, and they have no problem running a tab."

"How long has that been going on?" Minister Philippe asked.

"The records go back about three hundred years. We send Markus or Azzurra once a week, and always in the evening of the same day. With the duties of Head boy and girl, it's the one time that's free."

The Ministers shared a confused look.

"Harry?"

He turned to Charlie. "Yeah?"

"How often have you gone with this Markus bloke?"

"Once. I wasn't planning on going last time, but Quidditch practice was canceled so I asked if I could tag along."

"When was this?" Professor Sirko asked.

"Just before Markus knocked on your office door for the Portkey."

Harry looked around at the confused faces. "What's going on?"

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Mr. Delacour, who nodded back to him. "Well, it seems that your luck, or lack of it, put you in the middle of a Death Eater attack that had nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me?" Harry said. "How in the name of Merlin's hairy arse can a dozen Death Eaters and even more Dementors descending on a little, out-of-the-way town that I've been to just once before have 'nothing to do with me'?"

"You just answered your own question," Sirius answered. "You weren't planning on going there until just a few minutes before you actually did, and they had no reason to suspect that you'd be with the Head-boy."

"Then why were they there?" Harry asked. "What, they were just out for a Firewhisky and got lucky?"

"Not at all," Grandma Guillory cut in. "They were looking for someone specific, it just wasn't you."

He turned back to her. "Come again?"

"There was more than one threat to a Dark Lord in Bremen that night."

Harry pondered that. "Why would they go after Markus? I know he's an Auror, but they've never operated on British soil."

"You're right," she answered. "But Markus Falkenrath is Zashtitnik and most likely their next leader, like his father, and his father's father. The difference, however, is that it looks as if the Death Eaters have designs on more than just Britain, and since Markus is dating a future Zekānōt member, and a very powerful one at that . . ." Grandma Guillory's features hardened and her eyes burned once more with intensity. "Yes . . . that has to be the reason, and that would mean. . ."

Anastasie held up her hands. "Wait a second; you're stringing too many coincidences together. There's no proof, yet."

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them, and had no idea what they were talking about.

"Am I?" Grandma Guillory asked.

"Yes, you are. And if we jump to conclusions, it may lead us to do something we'd regret."

Grandma Guillory turned on her Flock Leader. "Typical Zekānōt sentiment! A war over blood purity is spilling over to the continent, and our wonderful Flock Leaders still prefer using their wands to pleasure themselves instead of striking down their enemies."

"Don't you dare put me in with the others, Anne-Marie! Just because I'm more circumspect than you doesn't mean I stand with them." Her magic flared and a hint of the regal Flock Leader emerged. "I took up your fight among the Zekānōt the day I proved to be your Successor, did I not? And I have remained loyal to that fight ever since!"

"Her what!" Gabrielle screeched.

Harry looked to his left and saw that her eyes were so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of her head.

Fleur put a finger to her lips. "I'll explain later."

On the other side of the room, Anne-Marie Guillory sighed. "Forgive me, both as my Flock Leader, and as my cousin. There's still too much fight left in me."

"I'm sorry, but I'm lost," Sirius said. "Why is it important who Markus is dating?"

Maryse laid a hand on Anastasie's arm. "You and Anne-Marie huddle together and see what she's thinking. We both know she's been right far too often. I'll explain it to the rest of them."

Anastasie and Grandma Guillory did just that.

Maryse turned back to Sirius. "Let's start at the beginning. Markus is dating Azzurra Sala. Her mother is a Flock Leader as was her grandmother and both of them were one of the three strongest Veela in the Zekānōt in their eras. From what we've seen the same will be true for Azzurra. Now, she is dating Markus and it looks to be very serious—"

"It is," Harry interrupted. "She marked him during Christmas hols."

Grandma Guillory's head popped up. "She did what?"

"She marked him," he said again, "They came back all excited and told everyone."

He wondered why identical smirks grew on the faces of the four older Veela in the room.

"That's very good news," Maryse said. "If he's accepted the mark, then basically, they've chosen to mate for life."

A soft noise escaped Fleur's chest and Harry looked down at her. "Wait . . . we're basically engaged?"

"Oops?" Fleur said.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

She bit her bottom lip. "I didn't want to pressure you by labeling our relationship, but that could be one way of looking at it."

"One way? As in, I'm your fiancé, at fifteen?"

She nodded again.

He could feel her trembling in his arms, and decided that winding her up wasn't a smart idea. "That's okay, Azzurra and the others explained it to me last fall."

Fleur grabbed the pillow next to her and smacked him across the head.

"Good for you, 'Arry," Grandma Guillory said. "Put her in her place. I'd take her shoes, too."

"Grandma!"

After a good laugh at Fleur's expense, Maryse continued. "There are a number of reasons that Markus may have been targeted, but I think they knew his death would cripple the future leadership of the Zashtitnik. The result of his death on Azzurra, if she has been intimate with him, would devastate her to the point that she wouldn't take her place as a Flock Leader, either."

"Son of a bitch!" Sirius interjected. "Listen to me. I've seen this show before. Someone is passing information to Death Eaters, and that someone has a lot of knowledge about both Veela and the Zashtitnik. Who has inside knowledge of both groups, and is tied in enough to Durmstrang to know what's going on?"

Harry noticed neither Professor Sirko nor the Ministers were happy at Sirius's proclamation, especially Minister Anselme.

"Obviously any student or teacher at Durmstrang," Professor Sirko answered. "I'll give Markus's father a call and we can do a quiet inquiry into the backgrounds of a few of our students."

"I'd do more than that, gentlemen," Sirius said. "Information is gold and if we want to win this war, access to information needs to be tighter than the bedroom door to Rome's Vestal Virgins, understand?"

"He's right," Anastasie cut in. "I'll take Anne-Marie and Maryse with me and get together with a few of the other European Flock Leaders. Ministers, I'll suggest that for now, we cool relations with France on the official level, but we can keep this backdoor communication open, I'm quite sure I can trust Jacque."

"We'll tighten up with the Zashtitnik," Professor Sirko said. "I think we may also forgo any more trips from school grounds until summer."

"That's a good step," Minister Phillipe answered. "I'll work with Anselme and Jacque to do a quiet inquiry through a few of our own departments, just to make sure." He nodded to Professor Sirko "I want to apologize once more for sounding like I was accusing Durmstrang of any wrong doing."

Professor Sirko waved it off. "I overreacted." Then he said to Harry, "Monday, I'll escort you directly to the school. Until then, be careful, this attack may not have been directed against you, but now that they know where you are, I wouldn't be surprised if you were targeted rather soon."

The meeting broke up a few minutes later, but before anyone could leave, Fleur asked, "Didn't we forget something?"

"What?" Anastasie asked.

"Azzurra."

Harry smacked himself on the head. "Of course. How do we know that someone won't go after her? Azzurra and her family need to be warned."

"They do have a point," Mr. Delacour said. "But they'd never accept it from any Veela in my wife's flock."

"Not quite," Anastasie corrected. "I'm sure Sophia would listen to her daughter, and her daughter would most definitely listen to 'Arry and Fleur." She looked at the two of them. "If they're willing to take a trip to Italy."

"He can't," Sirius said

"Why not?" Harry asked. "They need to be warned and—"

"And you have a meeting back in Britain to attend, if you want to, that is," Sirius finished.

Harry's heart pounded. "You mean . . ."

"I do," Sirius answered. "But you're coming straight back here after."

Harry caught sight of Fleur's neutral expression and remembered their compromise. His stomach soured. "Okay, but since Fleur's also part of it. . ."

"Of course," Charlie answered. "As long as you're both free tomorrow evening. We'll make sure both of you have Portkeys, just in case."

At least it was just a meeting, Harry thought to himself. Right in, right out, and Fleur will have a Portkey with her every moment she's there.

Professor Sirko offered to take Markus's father with him in the morning and meet with the Salas, then said goodbye and stepped into the Floo. Others followed and the house emptied quickly, until just the immediate family remained. Harry was happy to see that somehow, both Sirius and Charlie were included in that definition.

They caught up on minor stuff before the three older wizards excused themselves to their respective bedrooms. Fleur, Gabrielle, and Grandma Guillory disappeared to Fleur's bedroom for some reason as well. That left Harry in the front sitting room with maman across from him, relaxing by the fireplace.

"My mother's taken a liking to you," she said. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry I didn't come straight out and tell you about the Veela tradition and what it meant."

"You mean being marked?"

"No, you handled that one rather well." She grinned. "I meant my maman calling you her grandson.

Harry got up out of the couch and moved it back to its original position, facing mum, then sat back down. "I already figured most of it out. I still don't know why you did it, but thank you."

"You're welcome. I told Fleur a few weeks ago that I've grown to love you as much as any mother could love a son. That, plus your relationship with Fleur, is why our two strongest Flock Leaders were here tonight."

"Leaders? I thought there was just one leader in a flock."

"Yes and no," she answered. "There's an entire hierarchy, really. Remember when Fleur tried to explain it like a pecking order?"

"I think so."

"Good. Because that's it, all the way to the top. Maryse is the second strongest Veela in our Flock. If something were to happen to Anastasie, she would step into her role, however, anyone in our Flock that is able to take the warrior form could challenge her."

"But, I thought just members of the Zekānōt could take the warrior form."

"You're right."

"Say again?"

Mum laughed. "The Zekānōt are our elders. Technically, every Veela that can take the warrior form is a member of the Zekānōt. Since there's around ten to fifteen in each flock, the leader is the only one that attends the meetings unless it's a war council, but she heavily depends on advice from the other elders in the flock. It's why you seldom see Anastasie and Maryse separated."

"Who are the others in your flock?"

Mum scratched the back of her neck. "We have three."

"I thought you said—"

"Sometimes things happen . . ." Mum cut him off.

Harry realized that was all she was going to say, and something told him prying wasn't a good idea, so he moved on. "If anyone that can take the form is already part of the Zekānōt, then does that mean Azzurra is an elder already?"

"Technically, yes," Mum answered. "It'll be a while before she can work up through her flock, however, depending on how strong she is."

"But, what if something happens and someone else steps in before she's ready? Won't she lose out?"

"A Veela's magic knows who is who. When it is time for Azzurra to become the Flock Leader, whoever is in charge will step down. If she isn't willing, then the same thing that happened between her and Fleur will happen between them. It's primitive, but it works. It's also how the Zekānōt can function with so many Veela. Each Flock Leader is equal in Veela law, but the reality is that they often acquiesce to the stronger leaders."

"But then, doesn't that amount to a dictatorship?"

"Oligarchy," Mum corrected.

"That too."

She chuckled. "No. As you heard, our flock and many in Azzurra's don't get along, but her mother has never tried to make Anastasie agree through force. That type of thing is not done except in extreme times, such as war."

"But I thought you just said . . . ?"

"The stronger Flock Leaders ask for opinions, and then try to form a consensus. Once reached, the weaker Flock Leaders support it." The doorbell rang and Mum's glanced back over her shoulder. "I need to get that."

Harry rubbed his head, feeling a headache forming. It was the reason he missed Gabrielle entering the room.

"You okay?"

He peered through his hands. "This Zekānōt business is giving me a bleedin' headache . . . much like the one you gave me, by the way. Why did you have to send the memories of Christmas to my Veela-chicks? They took the mick out of me for a month."

"What makes you think I'd do something like that?" she asked.

Harry dropped his hands into his lap. "Oh, no reason, except that you enjoy it as much as they do."

Gabrielle's face lit up. "That was that the reason for all the threatening letters!"

"As if you didn't know!"

"Honestly! I didn't!" She looked as innocent as an angel, standing next to the fire.

"Right," Harry said. "I've seen that look before, and Fleur already told me it was you."

"Fleur?" It came out in a very impressive growl.

But he didn't get a chance to answer. Mum came back up the stairs with another Veela.

"Sorry I didn't come by to see how you were doing earlier, but I was out-of-town." Susanne kissed him on both cheeks.

"Don't worry about it, when did you get home?" Harry asked.

"Today, I would have waited to visit 'till tomorrow, but Aunt Apolline said that some old dog might come by and wondered if I could take him out for a walk." Her eyes danced with humor, but Harry swore he could see a little hope in there, too.

He went to bed a few minutes later, daydreaming about the possibility that he and Sirius might someday end up as cousins.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

"Ready?" Sirius asked the next afternoon.

Harry and Fleur held a rope in their hands nodded. Sirius looked back up at the house.

"She already left." Fleur teased. "And Charles has been gone a few hours already, not that you would've noticed or anything. I take it you had fun last night?"

Then something happened that Harry never thought he'd see in his life.

Sirius blushed. "She's an amazing young woman." He cast another longing glance at the house before turning to the two of them. "You have your emergency Portkeys?"

They both nodded.

"And you know how to use them?"

"Fleur's father showed us this morning," Harry said. "We tap the Portkey once and call out either 'home' or 'hospital,' then come crashing through the wards."

"Good. If either of you suspect anything, don't hesitate to use them and get the hell out of there." After getting a nod in affirmation, Sirius touched his wand to the Portkey, then pocketed it and grabbed a hold. Harry felt the normal tug behind his navel and thirteen seconds later, the three of them hit the ground in England. He fell over, dragging Fleur down too.

She pushed herself off him. "You could at least have waited until Sirius left."

Harry gave her a playful swat on her rear when she stood up and asked, "Where are we?"

"This is a safe house for a few werewolf friends of mine." Remus approached and hugged the two of them. "It's good to see you again, Fleur. I'm surprised Harry hasn't driven you to use the Killing Curse on him yet."

She giggled. "It's been tempting a few times."

"Hey!"

The others laughed. "Tonks has been excited to see the two of you ever since Charlie got back," Remus said. "And there's a few others that can't wait to see you tonight as well."

"Neville?" Harry asked.

"No, his group had something come up, but they're sending someone else that you might remember."

"Who?"

Remus smiled. "Nope, and we should get inside rather than presenting a nice target in the middle of an open field.

Harry took Fleur's hand and they followed Sirius and Remus up a hard, rocky incline. "Where are we?"

"Northern England," Sirius answered.

"I can tell that." Harry pulled his cloak around himself. "It feels like it's freezing, are you sure we're not in Scotland?"

Remus looked back over his shoulder. "And here I thought you attended at Durmstrang this year."

"He did," Fleur answered. "You should ask him how the cold affects brass brassieres."

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Harry, tell me you didn't buy the leather riding crop for her, too."

Fleur winked at Harry, then laid a hand on Sirius's arm. "There's a lot you don't know about Veela yet, like how we love to brag about our conquests to family. I can't wait to talk to Susanne."

Harry caught a second blush and guffawed.

"What's this?" Remus asked.

"Shut it," Sirius answered. "You should have come across the channel. Gabrielle was in rare form."

They crested the hill before Remus answered, "She reminds me of a witch we all loved back at Hogwarts: smart, full of piss and vinegar, and cute as hell, too."

"That she does," Sirius agreed.

"She married another close friend of ours. A damn shame what Sirius's bint of a cousin did to them."

Harry stopped. "That's, you're talking about Neville's mother?"

"He is," Sirius confirmed. "And talking about it hurts almost as much as talking about what happened to your mum and dad."

They continued in silence across a field and into a small depression. In the middle of it, evergreens hemmed in a large, two-story structure.

"It was abandoned a couple of decades ago," Remus said. "We've put some charms and other spells on it to keep people away. The Order's met here once or twice over the last few months."

Remus pushed open a dilapidated door and let Harry in. The house was old, very old. Every board in the wooden floor was warped or cracked and the ceiling was about ten feet high, held up with thick beams that showed signs of rot. The only nod to the eighteenth century, let alone the twentieth, was a few couches that were strewn about in no discernible pattern. To call the place rustic would be an overstatement, but at least it was warm.

Tonks bounced over and gave Harry a hug, then Fleur. She had a smile that lit up the room. "Charlie and I are official now, and if we get through this war in one piece, we're going to make it permanent."

"Congratulations," Fleur said.

They talked for a few seconds before Harry heard another voice over the din, "Don't tell me that is Harry bloody Potter!"

He turned around. "Oliver?" A rush of memories flooded his thoughts. He made his way across the room to his old Quidditch captain. "Do you know if Katie or—"

"None of them," Oliver answered. "A few of us went to Hogwarts a month after the battle and buried the bodies with the help of the elves. They were all there, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina. I figured you already knew about the twins."

Harry nodded. He'd already surmised they were all dead, but hearing that fact made it hurt all over again. It must have been how Fleur felt when she was told about Madame Maxime. He felt two hands slide over his arms and around his chest from behind.

Fleur's light scent caused him to relax. "Is everything okay?" The French language was soft on her tongue.

"I just learned that three more of my friends died last spring."

"I'm sorry." She kissed him on the cheek, then looked at the man standing in front of Harry, and switched to English. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Oliver's face slackened. "Veela?" he asked when he got control of himself again.

Harry felt Fleur stiffen behind him. "Don't worry, Oliver's one of the good guys."

"What does that mean?" Oliver asked.

"You see Fleur as a person, not as a creature."

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"There are many who can't see passed the Veela to the person," Fleur answered. "And it is their loss. But it seems, this is not so with you."

Oliver gazed at Fleur again, then back at him. "Harry, she's intelligent and beautiful. And somehow, she even has you learning French. Don't be stupid and do something to lose her."

Fleur grinned. "I like 'im!"

The door opened and another group came in. Professor Moody looked as though he had come fresh from a battle with half of the U.K. Behind him was Shacklebolt, looking thinner, even a bit drawn out, but otherwise healthy. A witch entered next. She took two steps and stopped.

"James?" The blood rushed from her face and she blinked. "It can't be . . . Harry? Is that you?"

Professor McGonagall came closer. She lifted a shaking hand and touched his scar before cupping his chin. "You've grown up so much . . ."

"Professor?" Harry wasn't sure what else to say.

"Keep him safe," she said to Fleur, then turned on her heel and walked back across the room. By the time she sat down, the familiar mask was in place, complete with thin, tight drawn lips.

"She's taking this war rather hard," Oliver said. "Madame Bones told me that she blames herself anytime one of her students die. If they sat in her class, she figures there was something she could've done to teach them different."

"That's being rather unfair to herself, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Fleur clucked her tongue. "'Ypocritical, are we?"

He opened his mouth, then stopped for a second before answering. "A bit, I guess."

"You're learning, my love."

The door opened again and three more witches Harry didn't recognize walked in. Then, just before it closed, two wizards pushed it back open.

A curse was on the tip of Harry's tongue and his wand leveled at the wizards before Oliver could react. "They're with us!"

"Bollocks!" He glared across the room. "You're telling me that Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey are fighting against Voldemort?"

Oliver flinched at the name. "That's exactly what I'm telling you. And if you don't want people judging your girlfriend by her heritage, then don't judge them by their house."

"What does this mean, 'by their 'ouse'?" Fleur asked.

"It means," Harry answered, "that they're both members of the same house at Hogwarts that spawned Voldemort and most of the other trash that wanders the countryside in Silver masks and black robes."

Flint came around a couch and stopped in front of Harry. "It wasn't a Slytherin that betrayed your parents, nor was it someone from our house that posed as Mad-eye over there and got you into that graveyard. If you don't like me, Potter, just say it, but don't hide behind house loyalty."

Oliver grabbed Harry by the shoulder and spun him around. "Marcus refused to join the Death Eaters. In return, they hunted down his parents and killed them. When he set out for revenge—turns out it was a couple pillocks by the last name of Carrow—Adrian went with him. Those two are almost as beloved by Death Eaters as you and Neville, now."

Fleur stepped in front of Harry and offered a hand. "I'm sorry to 'ear about your parents." She nodded to Pucey. "It is nice to know that you 'ave such good friends, is it not?"

Harry watched both Slytherin welcome her.

She backed up and wrapped her arms around him again, then whispered in his ear. "A young, avenging wizard, ma amour, with no parents; it sounds like someone else I know."

Harry blew out a gust of air in defeat. "Old habits die hard." He offered a hand to Flint. "Sorry, I guess I'm still a little brassed off about our Quidditch matches."

Oliver snorted and Pucey started laughing.

"I don't know why," Flint answered. "You won both." He took Harry's hand in a firm grasp and shook it. "I hear you've been attending Durmstrang."

"From who?"

"Neville." Pucey clasp Harry's hand. "He's the one that generally attends these meetings."

Harry couldn't hide his surprise. "You're working with Neville?"

"Didn't have a choice," Pucey answered. "A week after we killed the Carrows, four Death Eaters surprised us up in Glasgow. There were too many Muggles around so we tried to lead them to a park that should've been deserted, but there was a concert going on—the middle of the bleedin' winter and they have concert in the park. Some things about Muggles I'll never understand."

Harry chuckled.

"We doubled back into an empty alley, but the Death Eaters had reinforcements. We held them off as long as possible, but they finally overpowered us and I thought we were dead. That's when Neville and his group stepped up to the ledges of the surrounding buildings and rained down curses like they were Zeus's hexed off bastard children.

"When it was over, Neville and the others Apparated to the street and extended a hand to us," Pucey said. "As soon as we clasped hands, they side-Apparated us and the next thing I know, Marcus and I are sitting on the floor in some dusty old house with twenty wands pointed in our face.

"A little while later, Neville offered us the opportunity to join them."

"We joined immediately," Flint said. "Well, immediately after we demanded to know how they found us."

"What was his answer?" Harry asked, intrigued by this new incarnation of his friend.

"He looked me straight in the eyes, and without a trace of humor, says, 'Magic.' Then he walked away."

Harry filled the room with laughter. "When did he get so cheeky?"

"Don't know," Oliver answered. "He sure wasn't like that at Hogwarts. Then again, he also wasn't one of the two most feared magical beings by Dark Wizards. The Forbidden Forest is the other."

"The forest next to Hogwarts?" Fleur asked.

"That's the one," Oliver said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "They're winding us up now. Neville, I'll believe, but I've been in that forest every year since I was a firstie. It's not sentient, nor is there anything in there particularly fond of our side."

"That may've been true before the war began," Flint said. "But it's changed. Death Eaters went to claim Hogwarts for themselves after the slaughter. The House-elves fought them and a few escaped into the forest, and disappeared."

Harry shrugged. "Between the Acromantulas, the Centaurs, and whatever other things are in that forest that I haven't ran into yet, it shouldn't be a surprise."

There was a short pause in the conversation while the other three wizards and a Veela-witch gaped at him.

"What?"

Oliver thumped Harry on the shoulder. "Someday, you're going to sit down and tell me in detail about the things you did at that school."

"I'd like to hear it too," Pucey said. "But it wasn't Acromantulas or Centaurs. From what I understand, it's only killing Death Eaters."

"'Ow do you know that?" Fleur asked.

"A few of us have seen it." Flint answered.

"Oh?" Harry cocked his head to the side, looking forward to hearing the tale. They'd have to work a bit harder to get one over him.

"Not me," Flint clarified. "I know Sirius and Remus have. So has Professor McGonagall and Mad-eye. They refuse to talk about it. We've hit a few Death Eaters with Portkeys destined for the place. They never come back."

"Pfft." Harry crossed his arms. "Now I know you're winding me up."

"You don't believe us?" Oliver asked.

"Of course not, it sounds like a few pieces of disparate tales spun into a massive story."

Fleur bit her bottom lip before interrupting. "Um, 'Arry, that's what I thought about your stories, remember?"

He looked at her. "You believe them?"

It was her turn to shrug. "No reason not to. You know the forest before the war began. But so much has changed since then, why not goings-on in the forest, as well?"

"It's possible, I guess."

"Good." Pucey said. "Now that we got that settled, are you going to show us what you learned at Durmstrang, or not?"

"Sure," Harry answered. "Anywhere we can go before the meeting?"

"The back room is warded for spell practice. Let me see how long we have." Oliver stepped over to Remus and asked a question, then nodded. "Is fifteen minutes enough time?"

"Let's find out," Harry said.

The five of them made their way through a dark, unfinished hallway. Oliver twisted the handle of an old door and held it open for everyone. Harry looked around at the spell marks that lined the walls. He shot a light jinx against the back and recognized the flash of light.

Flint gestured to the spot. "The wards are weaker than you're probably used to, so be careful not to cast permanent spells like the Killing Curse. We've had them fail once they get overloaded. Matter of fact"—he conjured three life-sized wizards made of straw—"why don't you show us on these."

Harry replicated a few more targets, conjured a pig and a goat, then conjured large shields in front of two of the targets.

"So . . . what I've learned." He scratched his head. "Let's start with this: when you're spell-casting, think of your magic as a river that flows downhill. Overload it, and it floods everything in sight. Put it through a tunnel at full strength, and it smashes through the target without much regard for what you were intending to do, not to mention backing up on the person that cast it. However, if you can find just the right amount for the task, and then learn to control it—"

His wand twitched and a Bone Crusher hit the pig. It squealed and collapsed in on itself, but not before Harry turned ninety degrees to his left and cast a Stunner at the first target made of straw. He reached out with his magic and bent the spell as it passed to the right of the shield and brought it down into the fake wizard's chest, then spun to his left again and cast at the second guarded target. This time, he reached through the spell and narrowed it to the size of a pinhead. It pierced the board and exploded into the second fake wizard. Harry stepped to the side and cast an Accio Charm that caught the back-pressure and directed it against the goat standing next to the dead pig.

The wave hit the animal and knocked it to the floor, bleating in pain. Another wave of the wand crushed its heart, silencing it. He cast three more curses that looked almost simultaneous, and the last three targets were shredded. Harry stood up straight. "As I was saying, learn to control it and you can do all types of things with your magic."

"That was a right nice little display," Flint complimented. "What was that curse you cast at the goat before you killed it?"

"Nothing."

Pucey and Flint looked at each other. "I thought we were passed this," Pucey began. "If you don't want to tell—"

"No, it's not that," Harry argued. "I literally didn't cast a curse."

Oliver chuckled. "Look, we weren't winding you up about the Forbidden Forest—"

"And I'm not taking the mick out of you now," Harry answered. "What you saw was me casting an Accio Charm on the rebounding curse, then directing the back-pressure wave."

"That's . . . how the bloody hell did you learn to do that?" Pucey asked.

Fleur took Harry's hand in hers. "'E didn't. In the middle of a practice duel he came up with it, how do you say, 'on the fly,' yes?"

"Yeah," Flint answered. "Harry, I hope your stamina is as good as your wand, because you're about to show us every spell you learned in the next ten minutes."

"That's not a problem for him." Fleur called on just a touch of her Veela heritage and dipped her chin, her eyes burned with lust. "'Arry has great stamina."

The three wizards looked at Harry, gobsmacked, and he blushed bright red.

Fleur laughed. "This memory is so going in a Pensieve and up to Durmstrang."

Harry shook his head. "Aside from the wicked ways of the Veela, let me show you a few other things." He displayed a number of spells and a few of the easier wards over the next few minutes. After finishing a ward to keep wizards out of a protected circle, he asked, "Did anyone ever find out how the Death Eaters got into Hogwarts?"

Pucey looked at him. "You don't know?"

"No, no one's told me anything."

Flint pocketed his wand. "He's going to love this."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy," Pucey answered. "That little ponce and his two wand-buddies left the stadium a few minutes after the third task began. From what's been pieced together, they threw the gates open and let in a group of Death Eaters, who, in turn, brought down the wards from the inside."

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said. "He's a marked Death Eater, isn't he?"

"Sure is," Flint answered. "He's one of the ones that tried to talk me into joining."

"I hope you won't miss him."

Pucey let out a short bark of laughter. "Good riddance is more like it."

Harry looked back and forth between the former Slytherin students. "Here I believed you were all one happy lot. Were we that blinded by our houses?"

"To a point," Flint said. "I admit it got out of hand a few times, but what else is there except cheering for your house nine months out of the year?"

Pucey snorted. "But murdering a stadium full of people ends any notion of house loyalty, as far as I'm concerned."

"Damn right," Flint agreed.

Harry was about to say something when he heard a squelch zip up the valley. "Anti-Apparition wards? I thought they were already in place—"

"They were!" Oliver cut him off.

Flint pressed himself against the back wall and peered through the crack between the curtain and the window frame. "Something's moving in the shadows of the forest"

Before anyone could answer, Sirius crashed through the door. "Harry, Fleur, Portkeys now!"

Harry drew his wand and tapped the shoestring, then said "home," but nothing happened.

"Portkey wards?" Sirius stopped and thought for a second. "That means they've known about this place for the better part of the day."

"But we used a Portkey to come 'ere," Fleur said. "They can't ward it in just one direction, can they?"

"They can," Sirius answered. "'Easy in, but not easy out.'"

"'Said the lobster to the lobster pot.'" Pucey finished.

Sirius gave him a look.

"Mum was a Muggle English teacher. I ended up in Slytherin due to my cunning, not my blood-status." He gestured beyond the walls. "What are we going to do about the Death Eaters?"

The answer came in the form of dozens of curses that hit the outside wall. Wood and brick collapsed inward.

Harry's wand was already in motion and a stone shield blossomed before them. He cast a holding charm on his left hand, put a blasting spell on it, and then thrust it forward, followed immediately with his right. "Lapis-lancea!"

The shield exploded outward, and the shards of rock transfigured into miniature stone lances. Screams and bodies hitting the floor covered Sirius's command to retreat to the main room.

Harry took a step back toward the door when the first outlines of Death Eaters appeared in the dust. A plethora of curses streaked out from either side of him. Pucey, to his right, cast every curse he probably knew and Flint stood just behind him, using shields, transfigurations, and summoning charms to protect the both of them.

Harry felt a hand on his back even as he cast his next spell. Fleur's wand came up next to his face and the dead pig shot into the air, intercepting a killing curse aimed at him.

A tornadic wind ripped through the room, pelting them with the rubble from the wall. Fleur cast a shield and Harry sent three conjured vipers over it, back in the general direction of the attack. He reached out with his magic and directed them at their targets.

More Death Eaters poured into the other side of the room and Harry felt Fleur tugging on his robes, even as she cast two nasty cutting curses. "Back to the main room!"

He started backing up when Sirius came back through of the doorway. "They're coming in from all sides. We need to make our stand here!"

"Where's Oliver?" Harry asked.

"Defending on the other side of the house."

A spell shot between them. Sirius stepped to the side, then waved his wand. Pieces of the wall ripped away, and hurtled toward the attackers. A counterclockwise twist and a jolt downward unleashed a powerful blast against the floor, and another flick of the wrist sent that out against them as well.

Harry and Pucey reengaged, mixing weak stunners with cutting and blasting spells. Flint cast an Obscuration Charm that filled the space between them with smoke, and they split, Harry and Fleur to their left, Pucey and Flint to their right.

Sirius stayed in the center. His wand went back up in the air and five balls of red light the size of Bludgers appeared over him.

Flint slashed his wand and the Obscuration Charm disappeared, then Sirius threw his hands forward.

Harry covered his ears to protect them from the shrieking orbs that shot out of the room. They broke up into a thousand angry red dots before driving through the next two waves of Death Eaters that were making their way into the building and turning them into sieves.

Harry watched the bodies drop, then met Sirius's eyes. It took half a second for Harry to realize what was his godfather was wrestling with, and yelled out to him, "The lesser evil is the greater good. If you know how, do it, or we're all going to die!"

Sirius closed his eyes, took a breath, and then gave in and cast the spell. Mangled, grisly Death Eater corpses reanimated and Sirius sent them back out against the attackers.

Remus ran into the room. "They're still coming back there."

"Here too," Sirius answered.

Harry caught a glimpse of a group of Death Eaters standing behind everyone else, and pushed three Killing Curses out through the massive hole in the wall. The green curses streaked across the field, but were blocked at the last second by rocks summoned from the nearby forest floor.

The chance was too much however, and a violet curse with brown wisps snuck under Fleur's defenses, striking Harry in the chest. He stumbled back and caught himself against the wall.

"Harry!" Fleur stepped in front of him and her wand became a blur. Curse after curse rocketed across the room. She managed to drop three more Death Eaters, a plethora of spells, most green or black, shot back at them. She conjured a large brick wall at the last moment. The spells crashed against it and sharp pieces of brick sliced through their exposed flesh. Harry checked to make sure it was all superficial. Fleur yanked up his shirt to see where the other spell hit, but he pushed her hands away.

"You can strip me later, now Expulso the wall!"

"I plan on it." She smirked despite the battle, then sent a Blasting Spell into the brick. He thrust his hands out again, and sent the pieces hurtling at the Death Eaters, but this time they were waiting. Three of them threw Banishing Charms into the room, driving the debris at the other four.

Flint shielded Pucey again, and Sirius and Remus threw up their own shields. Six Killing Curses followed the Banishing Charms, all cast at Sirius. He managed to conjure half a cow to take two of the curses, and Remus banished broken chunks of plaster and wood into the path to stop two more, but the fifth and sixth curse lit him up in a bright green aura. He fell to the floor, eyes wide open and unblinking. His wand bounced across the room and came to rest at Harry's feet.

Remus shouted and sprinted to Sirius, ignoring the curses that sailed past his head. He knelt just before a transfigured piece of crystal appeared in the room. A blasting curse hit it and drove the crystal shards through the werewolf's body.

He slumped over on the other side of Sirius.

Harry's world almost came to a stop, literally. Curses, spells, and hexes of various colors crawled through the air. The remaining pieces of crystal continued their leisurely journey before coming to rest on the floor. Remus's body was still dancing with the impact of curses.

Harry turned back to the murderers outside, filled his lungs with air, screamed, "Come, and die you bastards!"

He didn't bother to aim, instead reaching through the curses and bending them left and right, up and down. He brought a Killing Curse up over a mound of dirt and drove it into the Death Eater standing a few feet behind it; drove a Cutting Curse around a tree, dismembering the legs from a second Death Eater; then pushed another one straight through a conjured shield Charm, taking the back-pressure square in his chest.

Another wave of Death Eaters stepped forward and Harry dug into his darker repertoire. Back-Breakers, Heart Crushers, and a liquefying spell all found their targets. Then he twisted his wand and brought it back in a sharp upward motion. "Comedunt-Corpus-Intro!"

A bluish spell ripped through the space and struck the next victim. He kept coming for a second, then stopped, looked down at his body, and screamed as his organs came alive and devoured him before turning on each other. Harry winced when he saw the man's heart chomp down on the stomach, popping it like a balloon.

Fleur crossed the room to protect Remus, and Harry stepped forward to do the same for her. A curse shot into the room and he brought his shield up. It bounced off and nicked Fleur, sending her sprawling across the floor at the same time a green curse lit up Remus.

Fleur pushed herself up to her hands and knees and crawled the last few feet, gritting her teeth in pain.

Flint and Pucey parted from each other and came up on either side of Harry. Both of their wands gamboled in the setting sun that now filtered through the ever-growing opening in the wall. A curse from each wand blazed out.

Harry recognized the Dragon's Curse, and watched dual tongues of flame roar from their wands, engulfing two more Death Eaters. Their screams were drowned by the unmistakable sound of wards coming down.

"Go!" Harry shouted.

"You first!" Drops of sweat dripped off Flint's nose from the heat of the spell. "Get your girlfriend and activate the Portkey, we'll Apparate away as soon as you're gone!"

He nodded and ran to her, but before he could get there, he heard Flint shout a warning, then his world turned upside down. At least four different colors of curses filled his vision before everything went black.

He opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground. The sounds Apparition cracked across the valley floor as Death Eaters, he assumed, disappeared. Familiar voices, including Flint's and Pucey's made their way to him and Stray curses were still hitting the upper part of the walls and what was left of the ceiling. The rest of which, he realized, had buried him and Fleur.

He climbed out and crawled across the rubble. "Fleur? Where are you?"

She should be right about here, he told himself. Sirius had fallen here and then Remus, there. Harry levitated part of the ceiling off a pile and threw it across the room, but he didn't see anything there.

A few feet more he levitated more debris and cast it aside. He caught sight of a little tuft of bloodied blond hair sticking out from under a large piece of the ceiling joist. He pushed the wallboard that was attached to it to the side to expose all three of them.

"Fleur, open your eyes. Talk to me!"

Blood trailed from a corner of her mouth and both nostrils. There was no other movement.

"No! Please, God no!" He snatched the Portkey out of his pocket and hit it with his wand, then pressed it against Fleur's body. Without really knowing why, he tossed other end of the rope across Sirius's body and made sure it touched Remus.

"Hospital!"

The familiar sensation yanked him out of Britain. His feet hit the floor in a sparse room that stunk of cleaning potions and antiseptic. The two dead bodies hit the floor with a dull thump.

Harry eased Fleur down, then stood up to get help, but a tiny witch that couldn't have been more than five feet tall already stepped around the corner. "What the—"

Harry pointed to Fleur. "She was cursed—dark magic, just before a ceiling collapsed on us."

"And those two?"

"Killing Curses."

"Move aside." She crossed the room and dropped to her knees in front of Fleur. "Where did this happen?"

"Can't tell you." He watched the Healer cast a number of spells, one or two of which Harry recognized as diagnostic charms. "But we were fighting Death Eaters."

The nurse's eyes widened and a string of vulgarities followed. "This is an Emergency Portkey entrance for Aurors, what the hell is going on? How did you get those Portkeys?"

"You'll have to ask her father, Mr. Delacour.

"As in Jacque Delacour?"

"That's him, he—" The results of the diagnostic spell cut him off.

The Healer took the parchment that appeared in a puff of smoke over Fleur and looked it over. "Dear God!" She waved her wand in two quick swipes and a nondescript voice blared across the hospital wing.

"Code Black, EPR three!"

The healer turned to Harry. "Get back against that wall and stay there!"

Harry obeyed without question.

The Healer cast a charm and Fleur's clothes disappeared. She hit Fleur with a cutting curse, and opened a wound on the inside of Fleur's upper thigh by another three inches. Then she reached in, pulled the muscle back, and pinched off the severed artery that lay underneath.

Harry vomited.

Three Cracks of Apparition bounced off the walls, and despite emptying his stomach, Harry's wand was up and aimed for the closest person before the echo died.

"Stay that wand!" The witch working on Fleur screamed, "They're healers!"

A tall, dark complected wizard glanced at Harry, then knelt next to the smaller witch. "Talk to me, Leanna."

She nodded at Sirius and Remus. "They're dead—Killing Curse, and this one's not far behind: massive curse injuries, and internal crush damage, rampant internal bleeding, and that doesn't include the severed femoral artery I'm pinching off. Both lungs are punctured and her magical core has turned against her."

A middle-aged Healer with a paunch took one look at where she had her hand. "Why aren't you using the Extrueret vas protocols?"

"They were battling Death Eaters," she answered.

"Damn, the wrong Healing Spell . . ."

"Will cause systemic shutdown," she finished for him. "Exactly."

The middle-aged Healer dropped down to the floor and inspected every inch of Fleur's body, waving his wand two and three times over it to pick up curse signatures.

A third Healer that had Apparated in turned to the side and said something. A House-elf popped in and the Healer gave it instructions, then it popped back out.

Leanna waited until the tall, dark-haired wizard finished reading the report. "Domenico, take lead." She nodded at the paunchy Healer. "Greg can back you up; I can't do anything until we can get Vulgaire clamps to stem the blood flow. You're better with crush injuries, anyway."

"Got, it. I'm taking lead," Domenico announced.

The Healer with the paunch finished his scan and stood up. "In that case, I've got surgery prep; there are too many spell signatures to pass it off to someone else."

Domenico nodded, and then Greg Disapparated.

At the same time Leanna was speaking, the House-elf popped back in with a tray full of potions, bags, and other assorted items.

The last Healer took the tray and set it down next to Fleur. He picked up a needle with a tube attached and shoved into Fleur's arm, on the other end was a large bag with "Blood Replenishment Potion" written across the top. He levitated it a few feet above her and piggybacked three inverted vials of potions into the line. "I'm done!"

"Get her to surgery!" Domenico stood. "And remind the prep Healers, no spells, and very little magic unless Greg approves. I'll be there ninety-seconds after you."

The third Healer conjured a flat board under Fleur. Healer Leanna jumped on it, her hand still inside Fleur's leg. A levitation spell later and the third Healer rushed them down the hall, and around the corner.

And just like that, Harry was alone with Sirius and Remus. He looked down at his own hands, covered in Fleur's blood. He fell to the floor and wretched a second time. Then a sharp pain tore through his head and he ground his teeth together against the torture of the Horcrux.

A middle-aged female Healer stepped into the room. "Come, we're getting you looked at as well."

"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"Like hell," The Healer began.

Harry waved her off. "There's nothing you can do for this. It's not a spell. Where did they take Fleur?"

"She's in an Emergency Operating Station. Look, I know you want to be with her, but we need to check you out for curse damage as well. Not all curses from Death Eaters are immediate."

"How . . . how do you know that?" he managed, and took another breath. The another wave of pain hit him and he squeezed his fists, his knuckles turning white. He could feel blood pumping out of his scar again.

"Most of the Healers in the Auror Emergency Entrance department were here during the first war. We've seen it all."

Harry nodded, then closed his eyes. "Is Fleur . . . ?"

The Healer put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "She's in a very bad way, but she's also in the best hands you could ask for. We won't know anything for at least another half hour.

"And I don't care what you say, blood pouring out of a scar is not natural. Let's get you checked out, then you can go wait with the family."

"Blimey, I forgot! I needed to get to a Floo and let them know!"

The Healer shook her head. "When activated, Auror Portkeys alert the Ministry who gets in contact with the family. They're probably already on their way."

Harry let his eyes drop to his godfather, lying on the floor a few feet from him. "Can you give me a few seconds to say goodbye?"

"Sure," the Healer answered. "But just a few seconds. I want you examined soon."

Harry waited until the Healer stepped out, then pulled the sheets down that a House-elf had draped over Sirius and Remus. His head still pounded, but he didn't care at this point. "You're not going to like how I do it, but I'm going to end this war, that I promise."

He placed his hand on Sirius's chest and was surprised to find his ring there on a gold chain. He undid the latch, removed the chain, and took the ring, then did the same with the ring he found around Remus's neck and held all three in his hand.

"Every last one of those bastards will die. You won't like my methods, but I swear on my life, it will be done." He lowered his head and fought back the emotions that raged just under the surface. The Horcrux however, felt appeased for some reason. So be it, he thought to himself, and let the tears run down his cheeks.

"'Arry?"

He looked up to find Paige and Susanne standing in the doorway. Susanne's face lost color. "What . . . how . . ." She made her way toward the body, knelt, and traced her fingers across his face. She closed her eyes and her bottom lip trembled in time with her hands.

"I would've loved you, Sirius Black. I would've given my heart to you when you asked for it." She leaned down and kissed him. "I hope you have found your peace."

Susanne covered Sirius back up with the sheet, took a deep breath, and wiped at her eyes, then looked at Harry and palmed his cheek. He fell against her and she wrapped him in her arms.

"Come, let's see about Fleur," she said a moment later.

The Healer stepped back into the room. "Sorry, but he has an appointment with me."

Harry didn't have the strength to argue anymore.

Paige took one look at him and somehow understood. "I'll go with you. Susanne can go tell Fleur's parents that you're here and being looked at."

He suspected that she was giving Susanne a few moments alone to say goodbye to Sirius, so he got up and followed the healer out of the room. He wasn't even surprised when Paige reached over and took his hand. They walked to another room that had a bed centered in it. The Healer handed him off to another middle-aged, slightly plump witch whose first word to Harry was, "Strip."

"Maybe I should wait outside," Paige suggested.

Harry nodded. The door closed and he was alone again. His strength vanished and he collapsed against the bed. The reality of what just happened crashed in on him and names of the dead flashed through his mind.

"It's okay, calm down," the Healer said. She levitated him onto the mattress.

Harry didn't notice. The memories of Fleur getting hit by the curse, the way she looked when he found her under the rubble, and the nurse digging through her leg chased each other in his head, as did the list of injuries and problems: crush damage, internal bleeding, multiple spell signatures, her magic fighting against—" He gasped for breath, but his lungs refused to fill with oxygen. A weight sat on his chest, pressing the wind out of him.

"What the hell? Stay with me!" the Healer said. "More help will be here in a second." Her wand flashed back and forth across Harry and names of spells used against him dancing in the air. She gasped as the list grew.

Harry didn't remember being hit that many times, but it didn't matter, not when Sirius and Remus were gone, possibly even Fleur . . . and if he lost her, he was damned. Maybe that was for the best, though. If she was gone, he'd have no reason to want to cheat death. It'd make everything so much simpler. Of course, he could just close his eyes now and fall asleep, never to open them again. That's be even easier

"I can't find anything!" an angry voice said.

"Then look harder!" another one answered.

"I'm running every charm in the Protocols, and even some that aren't!"

"Then let me take a look!" Numerous loud, popping noises interrupted anymore talking. A few seconds later however, a voiced yelled out, "Found it!" Quickly followed by, "What the . . . it's going to take all of us to counter this curse!"

And why not? he asked himself. Why couldn't he fall asleep forever? What would be so wrong with that? So many that he loved were already gone.

"Ready, cast . . . No, get over here! That's it. All of your wands need to be right up against his body. This isn't a normal Countering Spell!"

Nothing, really, except that Voldemort and the Death Eaters would have won, and he wouldn't be able to call in the blood debts. But just how important was that, really?

"It was too much for him, he's fading! Clear away! I'm hitting him with a Stinger."

Are you willing to give them up? A deeper, sinister sounding voice asked him. Harry listened, seeking its source, and was surprised that it wasn't the Horcrux. It was his own soul, without remorse or compunction for mercy; his own voice, so foreign and yet, so recognizable. And then he knew. This was the point that he was headed toward his entire life. To this place of vengeance, this dark nightmare, and Fleur was the only person that could keep him away from it.

If she lived.

"Again!" Harry's body cleared the table by three inches.

That was the only variable left, but it was enough to keep him tethered here for now. If she lived, then he had to live. If she was dead, then he'd cut a swath through Magical Britain a mile wide and a foot deep in blood.

"Again!" His body jerked up.

"Vengeance!" the Horcrux raged within him.

"Again!" Another shock ripped through him.

"And Death!" his own soul echoed.

"One more time!" someone yelled.

Harry opened his eyes enough to see a wand leveled at him. "No!" he flung his arms out and pushed with all his magic. The Healers stumbled back, crashing into the walls. Harry glared across the room. "Level that wand at me again and I will kill you. Get out of my room."

"We were losing you," the Healer said by way of apology. "It's not normal medicine by any means, but at least it worked."

Harry turned to the witch. "Am I okay to leave?"

"You most certainly are not, not after what you just went though. Now relax.

Harry thought about cursing them all, but figured that'd just cause more problems, so he obeyed. All but two Healers left the room over the next couple of minutes.

Harry relaxed watched as sheets of parchment appeared over his body every thirty seconds. The plump Healer he had started with in this room plucked the latest one out of the air and clucked her tongue. "Two and a half minutes ago, you were unresponsive, and now . . . this is impossible, even for magic."

"Does that mean I can go? My girlfriend might be lying in a bed somewhere in this hospital dying. I need to be with her."

The Healer read the parchment again, then offered it to the other one that had remained behind. Harry realized for the first time that she looked to be in her late twenties and was quite pretty, and he was still lying on the table, starkers.

"At least let me cover up."

The older witch chuckled and handed Harry's clothes back to him while the younger Healer read the report. "Amazing, I've never seen anyone recover so fast. It's almost as if he just lost the will to live, then regained it."

"Nice bedside manner," Harry said.

She flushed from the rebuke. "You're right, I'm sorry. According to the report, as Geraldine said, it seems almost impossible that you've recovered so quickly, even by magical standards." She shook her head. "There's nothing here now that indicates we need to keep you. Just take it easy the next day or two, and take these." She handed over a few vials.

He sniffed them and turned his nose up, already knowing what they were before she told him. He'd had enough Replenishment Potions over the last few months.

"There's a beautiful witch waiting for you outside," the younger Healer said.

"Veela," Harry corrected.

"What was that?"

"She's not just a witch, she's Veela."

"Oh, that's something different. We almost never get Veela in here, patients or visitors."

He finished dressing, wondering why she felt the need to tell him that, then walked out of the room and straight into a frightened Paige.

"Harry!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him. "The way Healers were Apparating into to your room, I thought you were going to die."

"I'll be okay," he said.

"Please don't say that."

Harry shrugged. "I'm always okay."

Paige pushed him against a wall and held him there with her own body, her nose almost touching his. It would have been too intimate to be innocent had the anger that burned behind her eyes not been there. "I don't want to hear, 'I'll be okay,' just a couple of minutes after I hear 'We're losing him,' and Healers popping in so fast it sounded like Apparition school."

She stepped back half a step. "Fleur warned me about you and your 'I'm okay' shit. Let's get one thing straight, I am not Fleur, so I have no problem hexing you, cursing you, hitting you with my Veela magic, and even driving you to your knees with lust if you dare lie to me about how you are doing. Is that understood!"

"She warned you?"

Paige glared at him. "Yes, over Christmas. She asked me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to her."

Harry opened his mouth, and then realized that he was doing the same thing he did last summer. Only now, he was hurting someone else that cared about him and through her, Fleur.

"Sorry," he said. "I was hit by a curse that seemed to take longer to activate than I thought possible. Luckily, I was in with a bunch of Healers who caught it in time." It wasn't the full truth, but it was close enough to soothe his conscience. "Can we go see how Fleur's doing now?"

Paige watched him a second longer. Her features softened and she pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you. A Healer's assistant told me they were this way."

They made their way through three long, narrow corridors, around a corner, then through another corridor. Five minutes later, they turned the last corner and Harry saw the Delacour family crying on each other's shoulders. Harry's stomach flipped and a metallic taste grew in the back of this mouth. He dropped Paige's hand.

A movement caught his eye and he looked into Fleur's room. An attendant pulled the sheet up over her head and then stepped out.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The words turned into empty, meaningless sounds, and even those faded. He could see people crying, mouths moved and words formed, but he heard nothing.

Air escaped his lungs as something struck his chest. He took a breath, and it was forced out once more. He looked down to find two slender fists hammering against him. The owner was yelling something, screaming at him, but he had no idea what she was saying.

Gabrielle collapsed against him and he caught her. Mr. Delacour appeared and gently pulled her away, then held the young Veela while she wailed over her dead sister.

Harry looked past them to see mum collapsed in a chair on the other side of the room, and her own two sisters tending to her. All around, Veela cousins were crying. Slowly, he began to hear the haunting sounds of devastated beauty.

The he realized that someone was talking to him. ". . . You're not to blame." Mr. Delacour said.

He dropped his eyes to Gabrielle. "It doesn't matter anymore. If I don't face him, this'll just keep happening."

The older wizard nodded. "Give me a week to put my house in order, then I will fulfill my promise to go with you."

"No." Harry looked at mum again, then Gabrielle, and back to him. "Take care of them."

He put his lips against Gabrielle's forehead, but she pushed him away, not bothering to look up. He turned on his heel and made his way through the doors.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

Gabrielle buried her face in her papa's chest. A small part of her brain registered what she had just done to her big brother, but she'd apologize later. Right now, it was more important to remember how to breathe through the sobs.

She just about had it under control when more cousins poured into the room. Maman tried to explain what happened, but she broke down in tears again, sending Gabrielle back over the edge. Paige and Danielle dragged her to the couch and made her sit down between them.

Grandma walked in a few minutes later, with Anastasie, Maryse, and another woman who had to have been a full Veela. Grandma went right to Maman, shooed the sisters away and enveloped her daughter in her arms.

Anastasie stood next to Papa. "We were in the middle of a meeting and came as soon as we heard. How is she?"

Jacque shook his head. "She passed about five minutes ago."

The new arrivals looked at each other, and then back at Jacque. "Be quick and tell me exactly what happened." Anastasie ordered.

"They took a Portkey with Sirius to a meeting. That's all we know."

"That's not what I meant." Anastasie faced the room. "What Healer called Fleur's death?"

When no one spoke up, she barked out, "Answer the question!"

Every partial Veela inclined her head, offering submission to the Flock Leader. It was a new experience for Gabrielle, and it pissed her right off. Why was Anastasie playing Pecking Order games now?

Maryse grabbed the Flock Leader's arm. "They're mourning, and—"

"Release me!"

Her magic pounded Maryse to the floor. Gabrielle felt the edges of it and squeaked, pushing herself further up on the couch.

"Now answer the damn question!"

"The attending Healer," Maman said. "Why?"

The unknown Veela took Maman by the elbow. "Did you see the diagnostic Charms?"

Maman shook her head, but Gabrielle answered, "I . . . I did. They were all the normal ones, including a spell to check her condition. I got used to seeing them last fall when 'Arry . . ."

A lump lodged in her throat at the sudden realization that he was no longer in the room. "'Arry! He's headed back to England, we gotta stop him!"

She jumped off the couch and took two steps toward the door before she was scooped up by her father. "Let him go."

"No!" She managed to wiggle out of his arms, but Anastasie's full attention fell on her.

"We don't have time for this, now SIT!" Anastasie said.

Gabrielle went down hard under the Flock Leaders magic. She could smell the urine as it soaked her jeans.

"That's my daughter, you bitch!" Maman said.

"Enough! I said we do not have time for this!" Every witch with Veela blood who was not a Flock Leader was now on her knees. Anastasie turned to the unknown Veela. "Get that Healer, Petra."

Gabrielle surreptitiously waved her wand over her lower waist, but she still saw Petra's eyes flit over to Fleur's body, then she rushed across the room and pushed open the door. "I need the attending Healer in here, now!"

"What's going on?" Maman asked.

"Something's not right," Anastasie answered.

A tall, dark Healer shot back through the door. "What's the problem?

"Did you call Mademoiselle Delacour's death?" Petra asked.

"I did, why?"

"And you used the normal diagnostics, right?" she asked.

"Of course," the Healer answered. "Why?"

"Because she's Veela, you idiot!"

"What does—" He blanched. "La strega sia dannato!"* He drew his wand and cast a charm. Alarms pierced across the entire wing of the hospital.

Four Healers Apparated into Fleur's room, the cracks echoed in the family waiting area. The first one waved a wand and a sheet disappeared from Fleur's battered corpse, clamps sticking out of her leg.

The Healer turned on the spot and reappeared inside the room. He yelled orders at them and three of the Healers disappeared, then twice as many reappeared a few seconds later, carrying a vast assortment of instruments.

"Maman, what's going on?" Gabrielle asked.

Maman shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief. "I don't know, Anastasie?"

Gabrielle heard the sliver of hope that crept into her mother's voice, and she caught her breath, just before the curtain in the emergency operating room was pulled shut.

Anastasie took a step back and leaned against a wall. "I don't like doing that to any of you, I'm sorry, especially to you, Gabrielle."

"Maybe you should tell them what's going on?" Grandma suggested, then seemed to take pity on the Flock Leader. "Or, do you want me to."

Anastasie nodded and Grandma passed Maman off to her sisters, then came across the room and took Gabrielle by the hand and led her back to the couch.

"Grandma?"

Grandma brushed Gabrielle's hair back. "My last granddaughter has finished her transformation." She gave a little sigh and continued. "Veela are very similar to humans, it's why we can mate with them, and in reality, we are all half human, half Veela."

"Not you," Gabrielle noted.

"Even I am," Grandma corrected her. "Don't confuse being a 'half Veela' on account of the Zekānōt not seeing further than their beaks with the fact that we all are biologically half Veela, half human. Our magic weaves the two natures together and discards whatever is superfluous, but it reapportions other parts of both natures. Have you ever heard of Torpor?" she asked.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"Ah, well, it is something that affects a number of species of birds, among other animals. At different times, their heart rate slows down, their temperature drops, and their metabolism decreases. Whenever our race came about, torpor was no longer necessary since humans are able to forage for food in almost all situations. So it changed."

The dark-haired Healer opened the curtain again and Gabrielle looked in to see a swarm of other Healers now huddling over her sister.

A quick turn and the Healer was on this side of the wall. He seemed to catch the mood of the room. "We still don't know."

Gabrielle was ready to explode. Her foot smacked down on the floor. "Enough with the Veela-lessons! What's happening to my sister?"

The Healer walked over to her.

"This is the first time she's learning about Torpor," Grandma said.

"Ah." He kneeled down in front of her. "If a Veela is severely injured, her magic will kick her into Torpor, except that in Veela, it almost stops the heart. Her magic then takes over and helps push the blood through the body, with just enough going out to the wounded areas to keep them alive. It slows down healing, but it's better than bleeding out.

"The problem however, is that we get so few Veela in here that we didn't even think to check. Instead, we followed normal protocols for a patient's status, which are based on heart rate, breathing, and temperature loss. In short, our Healer got a false reading."

Gabrielle's eyes grew to twice their normal size. "Fleur's still alive?"

The Healer gestured back to the room. "They don't put that much effort into a dead person, no matter how beautiful she is."

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

Harry felt Gabrielle's hot tears still on his cheek and his skin burned where she pushed him away. He walked through the door of the hospital and cleared the wards at a dead run, not even bothering to stop when he Apparated back to the Delacour home. With little more than a few wand waves, he managed to pack the books and clothes he needed in his trunk, then spun about to walk back out of his room.

Next to the door, however, was a picture of Fleur and him taken Christmas day. He watched it, taking in the happiness of the scene, and the room began to vibrate. Harry reached out and touched the image of Fleur that was whispering something into the ear of Harry's image, making him blush. She backed up and gave him one of those little looks that made Harry's heart thump.

He realized that he'd never see her do that again.

The room exploded. Glass, ceramic, even the table in front of him shattered, sending broken splinters through the walls, and ceiling.

Harry forced himself to put one foot in front of the other out the basement, then slammed the door shut and walked back to the Apparition point. Halfway there, Hedwig soared down from the Owlery.

He held out an arm for her and she seemed to have sensed his mood, landing softly and nipped him on the ear.

"She's dead, girl. They got Fleur."

Hedwig spread her wings let out a low-mourning sound, then fluttered up to Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks, but you can't come with me." Harry held his arm to her again and she stepped off his shoulder and back onto it. "I have something I need to do, and chances are I won't be coming back. I want you to stay here with Gabrielle and take care of her. She's yours now, make sure she stays safe."

Hedwig hooted an indignant response and pecked Harry hard on the nose.

"It's not hard to trace a snowy white owl, and I don't want to think about what they'd do to you. That's why you can't come, and why you can't deliver mail to me, either."

He took out his wand and conjured a piece of parchment and a writing utensil. "I need you to deliver one last thing for me, though."

He finished the note and tied it to her leg. "Wait until she comes home. It's a letter telling her that I've left her to you."

Hedwig let out a low hoot.

"I love you too. I'm sorry I have to leave, but please, take care of my Gabby."

The owl gave Harry a much softer nip on the ear before flying off toward the house. He watched her circle once and look back at him, then fly through Gabrielle's window.

He turned back and looked up at the mountains to the West of the Delacour home, and turned. The difference in temperature was startling, but from this high up, he could see for miles. He Apparated again to a spot he could see far in the distance and then two more times after that before he was standing in snow-capped mountains on the border between France and Spain. Five hours later and a number of Locating Charms, he stepped into an abandoned cabin, wrapped his heavy Durmstrang cloak around himself, and fell asleep.

He woke up early the next morning and looked around the cabin. He found a dirty old towel and transfigured it into a dirty old mattress. He placed it against the wall, next to the one table, and then set the wards. Finished, he wandered out into the surrounding area. About a mile north, he found a road and followed it into a small town where he bought groceries, thankful for the trip to Gringotts a few weeks ago.

After lunch, Harry pulled out his potions kit and set it up, then opened up A Dark Journey to Power and re-read the story that had given him chills earlier in the term. The ingredients were simple enough that any student would have them in his potion kit. Once the cauldron was set up and brewing, he took on the harder part and prepared for the ritual. With luck, he'd last more than a few hours before going insane. Then again, this wasn't really stealing someone else's magic.

Voldemort gave it to him freely, sort of. And if Harry had to have the damn Horcrux in his head, then he might as well use it. One thing he knew for sure, if the story in the book was accurate, then whatever magical ability was in the Horcrux, would be his . . . as long as his changes worked.

When all the preparations were finished, Harry took off his shirt, transformed a rock into a small knife, and carved a figure into his chest over his heart. He let the blood on the knife drip into the potion. The first drop hissed and danced on the liquid in the cauldron. The second calmed it down and the third turned the green liquid amber.

Next, he wiped off some of dried blood that had leaked from his scar last night and dropped a few flakes into the cauldron. The potion turned green again, the blood danced, and then back to amber.

It was ready.

He turned the wand on himself and cast the first spell at the figure on his chest, and didn't feel a thing. The second and third spells followed to the same effect. He thought back to the story, and wondered how foolish he was for thinking that he could rearrange a blood/possession ritual in this way. Then again, the entire story may have been exaggerated, just like his Uncle used to do with his golfing stories.

He snorted at the thought, and wondered what would happen if he showed up at the house now, able to do whatever magic he wanted, not to mention defending himself without his wand. It wouldn't be worth it, he realized. Not them, even with everything they did to him, it paled in comparison to what he owed others.

He cast the same series of spells at his scar, then laid his wand on the table and ladled the potion into a vial. He took a deep breath, tilted his head back, and slammed it back, then gritted his teeth for what was to come.

But nothing happened. He waited, thinking back through the story. He couldn't kill the Horcrux as the one wizard did the other, that'd defeat the entire purpose. He couldn't possess the Horcrux, either. But he wasn't even at that point yet. No, those were issues that he'd deal with after the potion and spells took effect.

Something else had to be wrong. Did the wizard drink the potion before or after casting the curses? He was sure it was after, but it never hurt to check. He reached for the book, and didn't make it.

A fire ripped up his spinal column and he hit the floor, already in the throes of a brutal seizure. His body bounced across the rough stone. With the last vestige of control over his limbs, he tried to direct himself toward the mattress.

Then the Horcrux woke up and attacked him for what he was attempting. Harry dug his fingers into his scar, trying to rip out the source of the nut-shriveling pain.

The figure he had carved on his chest flashed and the smell of burning flesh reached his nostrils about the same time his brain registered what was happening. He reached in front of him, grabbed the mattress, and yanked, ripping parts of the fabric away, denying him anything outside of himself to grab on too.

A second fire ripped back down his spinal column and he arched involuntarily, his back high off the ground. With his last lucid thought, he thanked Merlin that he cast a Silencing Charm on the shack, then his eyes rolled up into his head, the pain redoubled again, and he screamed his way into the black abyss that waited for him.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

Two days later, Jacque Delacour sat at his desk in the Ministry. Dark circles lined his eyes, red from a lack of sleep.

Fleur was still in torpor and Gabrielle had refused to go back to school. She and Apolline spent the day at Fleur's bedside, and Jacque took the night shift so they could go home. It left him with three or four hours of sleep at night, which led to his secretaries—and everyone else—given him a very wide berth.

Almost everyone else, he corrected himself, as the door opened and Philippe walked in. "I brought you lunch."

"Not hungry."

Philippe ignored him and produced two take-out boxes. "Thoughts in the brain improve when there's food in the stomach."

"Let me guess, Chinese, right?"

Philippe chuckled. He opened a container of rice noodles and set it in front of Jacque. "See? It's helping already."

Jacque pushed the container away. "I doubt I could keep it down now."

Philippe gave Jacque a hard look. "You look like hell. Go home tonight. I'll take your shift at the hospital. Sit by the fire with your wife and daughter and love on them. You need the rest."

"I can't," Jacque said. "We don't know when she'll wake up, or in what condition she'll be in. Decisions may need to be made fast if she's lost control of her magic . . . or her mind, which, in a Veela, amounts to the same thing."

Philippe eased himself into a chair and set his lunch on the desk. "Is that a real possibility?"

"No," he said. "But I don't want to risk it. Besides, if you were there, even if we gave you complete authority to make immediate decisions, you'd be second guessing yourself the rest of your life if that came up and it didn't work out."

"And you wouldn't be?"

"Yeah," Jacque admitted. "I would, but she's my daughter, so it's my burden. Anyway, there'll be plenty of time to rest when Fleur's awake. Apolline and I have already discussed it and I'm going to take a couple weeks off when she comes home."

"I like that scenario a lot better."

"Me too."

Philippe crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "In that case, here's what we're going to do. I'll sit with Fleur for a couple hours tonight and you're going to see a Healer about your stomach issues."

Jacque opened his mouth, but Philippe cut him off. "Nuh, uh. Don't argue, you'll just be spells' cast away from her, so there's nothing to worry about—and that wasn't a suggestion. When you gave them an Auror Portkey, you put the entire thing under the authority of my department. So consider it an order."

The corners of Jacque's lips turned up. "Your authority my wand, but I'll take you up on seeing a Healer."

"Good," Philippe sat up and pulled his lunch back off the desk. "Now eat. I happened to remember what you were like when your wife was in labor and ordered accordingly."

Jacque opened the box in front of him to find a chicken and vegetable dish, no sauce. He figured he'd at least try it.

The conversation meandered through different topics, including the state of France's national Quidditch and Hockey teams, and then settled on the audit that was thankfully over.

"How did your office come out?" Jacque asked.

"Pretty good, I think we were in the negative about twenty Galleons, which isn't bad when you consider—" Jacques fireplace flared and someone stumbled out of it and fell to the floor.

"Anselme?" Philippe put his food down and went over to help him up. "I thought you called in sick this week?"

Anselme waved him off. "Harry, Fleur . . . in danger!" He managed, then collapsed into one of the couches a couple feet away from where he landed.

Jacque shared a look with Philippe. "What are you talking about?"

"Death Eaters, Imperious . . . I just broke the spell."

Jacque's fist collided with Anselme, breaking his nose and sending him over the couch. "You son of a bitch! Get up!"

Anselme got to his knees and Jacque drilled him again, knocking him back down to the floor.

"Stop!" Philippe ordered. He opened the door and yelled to the nearest secretary, "I need two Aurors from Internal Investigations and a bottle of Truth Serum. Now!"

Not forty-five seconds later, the Aurors rushed through the door. Philippe took the vial and walked over to the couch where Anselme was sitting, holding his nose to stem the flow of blood. Without a word, Anselme opened his mouth and accepted the dose.

Philippe healed his nose while they waited for the serum to take effect.

"Did Death Eaters use the Imperius Curse on you?" he asked a minute later.

"Yes."

"Was Harry their target?"

"Yes," Anselme said again.

"Was Fleur their target as well?"

"No."

"How did they find you?"

Anselme hesitated, and tears welled up in his eyes. "I went for a walk after lunch a little over a week ago. I saw a flutter of black robes and then I was hit with the curse."

"Stupid bastard!" Jacque said from behind the opposite couch. "Another leisurely stroll without Auror guards; just like always. Tell me I'm wrong. Please tell me you actually listened to us."

"I . . . I can't."

He came around the couch and stood in front of Anselme. "And I suppose you haven't kept up with your training to throw off the Imperius Curse since you left the field, right? Never mind that it's regulations, or that we told you how stupid it was."

Anselme bobbed his head back and forth.

"Thanks to you, Harry and Fleur were ambushed in England and barely made it back. Fleur is still in a coma in the hospital and Harry is gone." Jacque bent down, inches from the other man's face. "Your lackadaisical attitude killed Sirius, Remus, and I'm sure a number of other's we don't know about.

"It almost killed two of my children, as well." He caught himself before his anger caused him to attack his former friend again. Instead, he sat down on the opposite couch. "How?" he asked. "You didn't know where they were meeting or what time it was being held."

Anselme took a deep breath. "I was reporting any news we got from across the Channel or about 'Arry. That's why I suggested Sirius and one or two others come to the meeting last Saturday. That way, I could cast tracing charms on them. It's also why I called in sick this week—if I didn't know anything else, I wouldn't be forced to report it."

Jacque stared at the wizard that he had bled on battlefields with a decade and a half ago. There was so much history between them, and so many good times. The birth of every child, every holiday until Fleur's Veela genes kicked in, numerous cookouts and meals, and whatever else, the three of them had done it together. But Anselme's lax attitude towards his own security had always been a sore point between them. At first, it was just Jacque worrying about an old friend, especially in the last year. But now, that attitude almost cost him the one thing he refused to lose, his family.

Not almost, he corrected himself. Harry was gone. It did cost him part of his family.

"Get your ass out of my office!"

One of the Aurors helped Anselme out of the chair and guided him over to Philippe, who was standing by the door. They had a quiet few words before the second Auror took the other arm and led Anselme out.

Philippe sat down in the couch across from Jacque. "He's going to lose everything over this, you know that, right? His job, his retirement, everything."

"At least he still has his family."

"And you? There's a very good chance that Fleur's going to make it, Gabrielle is growing into a beautiful young woman, and your wife still loves you. Come to think of it, you even get along with your mother-in-law."

Jacque shook his head once. "You forgot someone."

"Do you really consider him a son?"

"The only reason I'm not in England right now is because he asked me to stay here and take care of Gabrielle and Apolline. Hell, he still thinks Fleur is dead."

Philippe leaned back against the couch. "Tell me something. Are you ready to throw away two decades of friendship over a mistake?"

"Mistake?" Jacque asked. "I told him something like this would happen. There's no excuse. After everything we saw in that war, he damn well knows better!"

"True, but there was nothing intentional. He didn't seek to betray you."

"I never said he did. But his actions still betrayed me and this government, actions that he could have easily prevented."

Philippe rubbed the palm of his hand along the armrest of the couch. "If I were casting your spell, I'm sure I'd be feeling the same way, but don't do anything rash. You know you're going to want him with us when we're on the other side of La Manche."

Jacque's eyes snapped up. "What?"

"I'm not a fool. At some point, you're going to end up there helping 'Arry, and we're going to end up over there fighting so that it doesn't spread to the continent anymore than it already has. I just hope we can get the French and English Muggle governments to agree, or technically, it'll be an invasion of a foreign power. With this new European Union thing the Muggles have, it just might throw all of Europe into the war, both Muggle and Magical."

Despite the last hour, Jacque chuckled. "If 'Arry and either of my two daughters are involved, I'd expect nothing less."

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

The light was too bright, her body too sore, and nothing felt right, neither inside or outside of herself. At least she was alive, but where was she? And how did she get here?

"Fleur?"

She opened her eyes. "Gabrielle?"

Tears leaked down her sister's cheeks, and she beamed with happiness.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the French Magical Hospital. You almost died."

Fleur tried to look around, but couldn't move her head. "Whas . . . can't. . ."

"They have you all bound up so you'd heal better. At least you don't have the restraints on anymore. Up until a day ago, they were worried about how you'd wake up.

"Whyzzat?"

Gabrielle wiped away a few tears. "You were an absolute mess. Your magic sent you into torpor."

Fleur tried to nod, but even that was impossible. She closed her eyes. Something was wrong, a strange feeling or thought that hovered just on the edge of her conscious mind, something that she should be asking about . . . but what? And why is it so hard to think?

She swallowed again, and got her answer. "Potions?"

"Tons," Gabrielle said. "Pain, bone growth, and every kind of replenishment potion they could find, I think. You name it, and they've shoved it down your throat for the last three weeks."

Her eyes widened. That was longer than when Harry ran into the side of the . . . wait, he was with her, wasn't he? Why isn't he here now? He was with her when . . . what?"

"Where was I?" she asked.

"England," Gabrielle answered.

She closed her eyes. England? What was I doing back . . . a meeting! The Order! He was showing the others what he learned, and then . . . That's what it was! 'Arry was coming for her, coming to save her, and then he was lit up with so many curses that he cart-wheeled to the ground, just before roof fell in. Her heart raced in her chest. "Is 'Arry . . . did he make it?"

Gabrielle's eyes teared up. "Yes, then the Healers confused your torpor with being dead. I was upset and . . ."

"And what?" Fleur asked.

Movement on the other side caught her attention, but she couldn't see that way yet. "And she did what any normal little sister would do."

Fleur knew that voice. "Who—"

She heard a chair-cushion decompress and Azzurra leaned over with a wry grin. "You know, someday, we're going to have a normal conversation."

"Why start now?" she looked back over to her sister. "Tell me what happened."

"I . . . I pushed him away."

She sniffed. "I didn't mean to, and when I realized he left, I tried to get someone to go get him but then everything happened with you being in torpor and Papa said to let him go even though I didn't want to and it's my fault he's gone."

Fleur had to slow down the words in her mind and replay them, then swallowed. "Gone?"

"Britain," Azzurra answered.

Fleur gasped, then with all her strength, she tried to move her right arm, getting just enough leverage to push against whatever stopping it.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked. "Wait until the Healers get here!"

Fleur ignored her and reached over to free her left arm, but a hand came down on hers and she looked up to see Azzurra standing inches away. "Stop. You don't want to hurt yourself, I'm sure Harry is fine."

"Think" Fleur said. "If he believes I'm dead, then he's gone back to England to see how many Death Eaters he can kill before he follows suit."

Azzurra blinked. "Why would he . . . the Horcrux." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that this entire time, he was planning a suicide mission?"

"Something like that," Fleur answered. "If I'm dead, then 'killing Voldemort' just turned into 'taking him with me.' I have to get to him!" She removed the long pieces of board that kept her legs straight, then swung them off the bed and jumped down.

A high-pitched scream caused no less than six Healers to Apparate into the room.

~ . ~ . ~

Maman and Papa were down the hall talking to a Healer when Fleur woke up. They stayed while the healers reset the leg and wrist that she re-broke due to muscle atrophy, but with the way they were looking, Fleur made them go home a few hours later to sleep in their own bed. That left Azzurra and Gabrielle in the room with her.

The latter was still shaking her head. "I guess you won't be doing that again anytime soon."

She grunted. "Why aren't you back in school?"

"I refused. Then when Papa informed Professor Sirko what happened, Azzurra, Médée, and Jaleena came to visit you in the hospital and volunteered to tutor me. Susanne and Paige are helping as well."

"That was very nice of them," she said. "But I thought travel from Durmstrang was limited now.

Azzurra giggled. "If you were Professor Sirko, would you want to face me and two other pissed off Veela?"

"Guess not," Fleur answered. "Thanks."

"Someone had to keep Gabrielle in line while you were out of it. Who knows what kind of world-destruction she'd cause."

"Hey!" Gabrielle interjected.

Fleur smiled. "Azzurra's right, I've seen the trouble you get in, or should I say, get others in."

The conversation continued for a couple more hours until a Healer came in and informed them it was time to leave. Since Fleur was out of torpor, they weren't allowed to stay in her room any longer.

Gabrielle pulled Fleur's covers up, tucked her in, then leaned over and kissed her on her forehead, much as their mother always did.

Something about the way she did it set a lump in Fleur's throat. It was one thing to see Gabrielle worry about her, but the way she went about the small task spoke volumes about her maturity, and her love for Fleur. "You're my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister," Gabrielle reminded her.

"True, but your still my favorite, now go home. I want to talk to Azzurra for a few more seconds."

Gabrielle hesitated. "If you're making plans about 'Arry, I want to be here."

"It's not that," Fleur said. And stop blaming yourself. No matter what you did, he would have done the same thing, just like his note said."

"Doubt it," Gabrielle said to herself.

"Hey," Azzurra cut in. "You know she's right. I don't want to hear that."

"Sure."

"Don't make me get Médée and Jaleena down here to abuse you some more."

Gabrielle let a corner of her lip pull up. "Fine, though I think it'd be more fun if Markus abused me, maybe even did a little paddling in a leather suit."

Azzurra tossed a small sphere of fire at the girl. "Go!"

Gabrielle giggled, stepped away from the fireball, and walked to the door before turning around. Her humor was gone again. "Thanks. I just . . . it's hard."

"I know, Fleur said. "This isn't how I wanted it either, but we'll manage."

She smiled when Gabrielle's arms came around her again. "Get better, please."

"I will," Fleur said. Now go and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

When she left, Fleur closed her eyes and a smile crept across her lips. "Thanks for not really throwing it." Fleur said.

"I'd never," Azzurra answered. "I remember the first time Harry described her to me, I thought he was making it all up. Now that I know her, he wasn't even telling me the half of it."

"She's something special," Fleur admitted.

"Yeah, but what?"

Fleur smiled. "Good question. I've never told her this, but I look up to her. She has a natural compass that guides her in the way she treats others, and herself. All last fall, I just kept watching her from a distance and wishing that I had her heart."

Azzurra made that little noise in the back of her throat that Harry always talked about. "From my perspective, doing that from a distance was a good idea. Up close, no one has a clue what's going to come out of her mouth."

Fleur laughed, then grabbed her ribs and groaned.

"You okay?"

"I will be, just give me a second." Fleur waited until she could breathe normally again. "Gabrielle's the reason I wanted to talk to you. When I'm ready, I'm going after Harry and if anything happens to me, she needs someone to step in and be a big sister. She loves our cousins, and adores Médée and Jaleena, but despite her crack about Markus, she also respects you."

Azzurra scrunched her eyebrows together. "You do remember my last name is Sala? Our flocks have been at odds for decades, if not centuries in the Zekānōt. Are you sure?"

Fleur nodded again. "You respect your mother's beliefs, but you don't hold to them, and that's the only issue there really is between our flocks. I can't think of anyone else I'd trust her to that's still young enough for her to relate with."

Azzurra closed her eyes and nodded. "I'd be honored, but I'll be pissed off if it comes to that. At least I don't have to tell you the consequences of pissing off a full Veela."

Fleur couldn't help but chuckle, then had a small coughing fit. "Harry told me what happened his first night at Durmstrang. I imagine the fireball in the hand trick really put the fear of Veela in him."

Azzurra grinned. "I had to do something to get through."

"And the little school-girl outfit?"

Azzurra blushed a deep red, which sent Fleur into another coughing fit.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

Hundreds of miles away, up in a little shack in the snow-covered mountains, Harry cast a spell and watched it slice through a tree a foot and a half thick. The tree started to fall, but he cast another spell, rocketing the three toward him, then a third that shredded it into little spikes before he banished everything toward the cabin. Literally tens of thousands of two-inch pieces of wood buried half way into the wall.

He'd done it. Three weeks of mental torture the likes of which he wouldn't have thought possible, but this series of spells was one that he shouldn't be able to cast. It was too complex for a fifteen, almost sixteen year old, and stood as proof that whatever magic of Voldemort's that was in the Horcrux the night he first tried to kill Harry, was now his, and that included most of the knowledge and spells Voldemort mastered up to that very night. The Horcrux still raged, but it was controlled, pulsating in his head and feeding him images of revenge. He did think it stranger however, that he could feel the difference between his own soul and the Horcrux.

Harry gathered everything into his trunk except for an extra cloak and hid it in the rafters. He thought about making it disappear, but couldn't bring himself to destroying one of the last two items he owned that Hagrid helped him buy in Diagon alley all those years ago. He cleaned himself up and made his way to a Muggle ferry, the last one crossing the English Channel that evening.

He stood outside on the deck, leaning against a railing. No one approached him, or even came near him for that matter, for which he was thankful. Memories of friends now almost year gone danced through his mind. He also thought about Neville and the others that were waging their own war already, about Neville being one of the most feared Wizards by Death Eaters at the age of fifteen.

They were doing their part. And now, it was time for Harry to do his. It was time to wage war in a way they hadn't ever seen, to screw with their heads, to strip them of their security, and to kill them in their own beds as they slept. Chaos was alive and well on the island already, but now, death was coming.

In the distance, a dark shape occulted the stars on the horizon. Harry stared at it until he thought he recognized the beach to which Vernon and Petunia were forced to take him one summer on Dudley's birthday. One last check confirmed that no one was on the deck near him and he turned, Apparating half a mile away into freezing cold, waist deep water.

With slow, deliberate steps, he walked out of the ocean waters onto British soil. A wind whistled over him and the wild grasses shivered, as if it knew that something bad was coming ashore, and it would have been right. Something bad was coming ashore, something very, very bad.

END OF PART II

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* La strega sia dannato!: Italian for "The witch be damned!" I chose this as just a normal everyday vulgarity because of the history of the strega, or "witch." in Italy. Centuries ago, the witches embarked on healing arts and unbetwitching commoners, yet they held the common types of medicine with disdain. These witches were also thought to be "supernatural figures." According to a quote from Pliny the Elder, these witches turned into birds of prey. (They also murdered children in that form). Magliocco, Sabina. "Witchcraft, Healing and Vernacular Magic in Italy," in Witchcraft Continued: Popular Magic in Modern Europe, edited by Willem De Blécourt and Owen Davies. Manchester: University Press, 2004: 151-173. (specifically, pages 157-158).