Chapter 2 – Scrambled Eggs
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Quidditch Pitch – 1994
"Ladies and gentleman, it is with heavy hearts and souls that we must announce the deaths of two of our champions." The crowd in the stands let out a mixture of gasps, wails, and screams. This was supposed to be a day of celebration, marking the end of the prestigious Triwizard Tournament.
Fleur sat on her transfigured bed in the champion's tent. Unlike all of the supporters in the stands, Fleur didn't show a physical reaction to the morbid news that Minister Fudge bellowed to the audience. Internally, though, Fleur was at war with herself.
On the one hand, she believed every one of the champions knew the risks that the tournament entailed. But, contrarily, she had come to respect each of her competitors in their own way.
And Harry didn't know the risks of this tournament. A small voice in Fleur's head assured that she wouldn't omit that detail.
"Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter were loved by any who had the pleasure of knowing them. They were good, kind-hearted wizards who had very bright futures ahead of them." Fudge continued his impromptu eulogy of the fallen champions. How he would know the character of Cedric and Harry baffled Fleur, but at this stage it was pointless to be affronted. "Unfortunately, their lives were cut far too short." More sobs could be heard at the repeated confirmation of their deaths. "During the third and final task, our brave competitors managed to navigate themselves through the maze until they found the Triwizard Cup. Being the selfless wizards that they were, they decided share in the glory of victory." Fleur gave a humorless laugh at that; anybody that had the displeasure of navigating that maze couldn't give a damn about selflessness, it was solely about survival. "Sadly, the notorious Azkaban-escapee, Sirius Black, had manipulated the cup into a portkey where he had setup an ambush for our esteemed champions." Fudge sounded like a man retelling a grand tale, crescendoing towards the climax of the story. "The portkey led to the graveyard of Black's former Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named where Black murdered, in cold-blood, young Cedric Diggory!"
Fleur knew the English were crass, but she never thought someone could be so insensitive as to recall the death of a student in front of his own father! She gripped the sheets on her bed in frustration of the entire situation.
"But one murder was not enough," Fudge continued, "Black wanted revenge on our youngest champion, Harry. Poor, poor, Harry." Fleur almost gagged at the absurdity of the Minister's monologue. "Just as he murdered his best friend on that fateful night fourteen years ago, he also gruesomely butchered his own godson, eviscerating all but a single finger!" A cacophony of angry yells, painful wails, and vicious curses was all Fleur heard from the crowd as Fudge finished his speech.
Fleur's mind was in the midst of a hurricane of emotions. Given everything that had occurred, she tried what had always worked for her and lied down on the bed in search of some sort of escape from the hell she and her fellow champions had found themselves in.
Looking up at the top of the hospital tent, Fleur focused on the storm howling within her head. When this year started, she would have given anything to have the opportunity to be a Triwizard Champion. Now, she would trade it all back just to have the chance to never join this wretched tournament.
Present Day
When Fleur finally awoke from her slumber, she noticed two things. One, she was lying on a four-poster bed fit for a queen. No longer was she in the foyer, instead she was in a grand bedroom with valuable, if not archaic, furniture furnishing the room. Secondly, bright light was beginning to shine through the extravagant curtains that lined the windowsill. Had she really slept through the entire night? Well, I suppose being kidnapped by a dead man can really throw a witch for a loop.
It was amazing, Fleur thought, that the night she finds out Harry Potter is not dead, her subconscious decides to playback that terrible night three years ago in her sleep.
Harry is alive. She still couldn't comprehend how the boy that saved her precious sister was not dead, but, actually, very much alive.
How did he survive that night? Did the British Ministry lie to the people? Or, was Harry involved in the murder of Cedric? That couldn't be possible. He was Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived, the hero of Britain, and, most importantly, the boy who saved her Gabrielle.
But, then again, it was impossible to survive the killing curse, too.
Gah! None of this makes sense! She should've taken the job in her Maman's boutique store like she had wanted her to do.
Snapping Fleur out of her stupor was the smell of something delicious cooking from somewhere within the house - nay, mansion. Her stomach also noticed the delightful aroma and decided to make its presence known with a loud growl.
Deciding to discover the source of the cuisine, Fleur made her way out of the bedroom and into the hallway, navigating herself to the spiral staircase. Following the scent, Fleur continued her trek down the stairs in search of whatever was cooking. Along the journey, Fleur passed the mirror in which she had saw that her appearance changed last night. Fortunately, all was as it should be this time. Gone was the shaggy black hair, facial stubble, grey eyes, and masculine figure. In its place was her shoulder-blade length silvery-blonde hair. Where there was once facial hair, was silky smooth skin that any man only dreamed of caressing. Instead of grey eyes, sky-blue orbs now rested in their place accenting her athletic figure in a way only someone with veela heritage could.
Pleased that she no longer appeared as a middle-aged wizard, Fleur continued her walk in search of the food that her stomach craved.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. But, the scene that was laid out before her baffled her even more.
Her apparent kidnapper, and former co-champion, was standing over the kitchen stove frying a quartet of eggs as if he was just an average muggle cooking breakfast. Ah, but of course he is, Fleur! What else would you expect him to be doing after coming back from the dead and robbing the most secure wizarding bank in the world!?
No longer was he wearing the black wizarding robes that he had the night before. Instead, he had changed into casual muggle clothing.
Cutting through her thoughts was his voice.
"How do you like your eggs, Fleur?"
Was he serious? How did he even know she was there!?
Sensing she would never understand this boy in front of her, she resigned herself to just answering the question.
"Scrambled." Fleur said with an exasperated sigh.
Making her way into the kitchen, she was surprised to find it to be quite small, warm, and homey. It felt completely out of place with the rest of the mansion. It was like a home within a home.
As Harry continued cooking breakfast with his back towards her, Fleur walked on the other side of the kitchen island towards the round dining table that could hold four people. Maneuvering her way to the side of the table that could give her a direct look at him, Fleur was stunned to find her wand laying right next to her silverware as if it was just another eating utensil.
Either he is an incredibly incompetent kidnapper, or she is about to look stupid.
Again.
Quickly, Fleur grabbed her wand and hid it on her lap, using her napkin to conceal her precious Rosewood wand. Harry, finished with fixing breakfast, turned around with the skillet in-hand, and scooped some eggs onto Fleur's plate before serving his own dish. Fleur did her best to maintain a neutral expression.
Of course, that had been an easy task when she was at Beauxbaton's. Her aloofness and perceived indifference towards others were passable deterrents to many a dozen suitors during her time at the institution.
But, as with everything that involves Harry, nothing could stay normal.
Fleur could feel his eyes staring right at her as he began to eat his breakfast. She started to fidget uncomfortably in her seat and fumbled with her silverware as she attempted to keep her cover.
"Everything alright over there, Fleur?" Harry asked.
She desperately hoped her cover hadn't been blown and tried to carry-on with her act just a little while longer. Just act normal, Fleur, he's still just that little boy you met three years ago that looked as if a strong breeze could send him tumbling.
Apparently, though, that command never reached her brain. Somewhere along the route, the message had changed from 'Just act normal,' to 'Act like Bitch Fleur.'
"Oh, of course I'm alright 'Arry! It's not as if you came back from the grave, robbed Gringotts, vanished a wizard, and then kidnapped me!" Fleur's disdain for the entire situation was finally starting to show towards her captor. "And then, you 'ave the audacity to make me eggs!? Eggs, 'Arry! You don't do that!" If the stories they made up about veela were true, Fleur was sure she would have sprouted feathers and grown a beak by this point!
There was an awkward pause after her small outburst. Harry looked at her with confusion marred all over his face. His response only served to sever any grasps of sanity Fleur had left.
"So…you don't like the eggs?" He asked with the most infuriatingly innocent voice that only accented his, even more so, innocent expression.
While Fleur had always been adamant that she was human and not a magical creature, the feral sound that emanated from her sounded utterly animalistic.
"Gah! That's eet!" Standing up abruptly, Fleur revealed her wand and sent a stunner directly at him. His only reaction was a slight widening of his eyes, and the tiniest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. Surprisingly, at least to Fleur, he didn't even attempt to dodge the charm – he just let it hit him straight in the chest.
Figuring she should take advantage of this opportunity, Fleur fled the kitchen in search of an escape to the outside world. Making her way back to the main entrance of the mansion, she made a beeline towards the grand doors…only to be sent sprawling backwards.
Propping herself into an upright position, Fleur looked at the doors incredulously. She couldn't even sense the wards, and when she stepped closer to cast a diagnostic charm on the doorway, she was encountered with a ward she had never seen before.
With another sigh, she'd really been doing that far too often lately, Fleur scampered off in search of another exit. But, again and again and again, she was sent sprawling onto her derrière by the complex wards.
Ashamed that a professional cursebreaker and Triwizard Champion could not get past a seventeen-year old's wards, not to mention that her rear was becoming quite sore, the once proud French woman returned to the kitchen with her tail between her legs.
Sitting back down in her original seat, Fleur dropped her head onto the table and let loose several choice French words. Apparently, Fleur's nightmare would never end.
On the bright side, she didn't have to worry about rushing for work this morning. Amazingly, even the goblins had an 'Extenuating Circumstances' policy, and this certainly would apply. Small blessings, Fleur, small blessings.
Taking a peak through her arms, Fleur gave a small chuckle at the expression that was left on Harry's face from when she stunned him. His face was frozen with a look of confusion, shock, and humor all blended into one. The odd combination led to a very comical expression.
Resigning herself to being stuck in her current predicament, she figured the least she could do was try to find some answers.
A loud 'Grrr" emanated from Fleur's stomach.
Answers can wait until after breakfast.
Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Filluk always knew that his chocolate addiction would catch up with him. How stupid could he be to actually think that a witch gifting him a box of chocolates couldn't go terribly wrong? Griphook always told him to watch out for that veela. If only he would have listened.
No matter, now Filluk was going to finally have the opportunity of going bird hunting. And he was going to enjoy it, immensely.
"Filluk, come with me to my office. We have an important matter that needs to be discussed." Griphook said.
Filluk had little doubt what this matter would be.
Closing the door behind Filluk, Griphook walked behind his desk and leveled Filluk with a stare that could cut through diamonds.
While Filluk didn't give any signs, at least that a human could detect, of anxiety from being under the wand of his superior, a keen goblin could notice his discomfort.
"We have a problem, Filluk." Griphook began. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you how much we value our reputation as being the most secure wizarding bank in the entire world. We can't have episodes like yesterday jeopardizing our clients' trust in our establishment."
"Of course, sir. I've already taken steps to mend our clients' fractured trust in our institution." Filluk replied.
"And I'm sure this will be conducted discreetly, and not besmirch our pristine relationship with the Ministry." Griphook said. Filluk didn't miss the sarcasm that rolled off his superior's tongue when the topic of 'Goblin – British Ministry' relations was mentioned.
"Don't worry, sir. The Ministry will be of no concern in this matter. They are nothing but bumbling buffoons who couldn't even see a hippogriff if it kicked them in the face." Does he really believe I would make the mistake of trusting a witch twice?
"That may be true, typically. But, Director Bones has proven to be quite formidable and if she is made aware of your…contingency plan, Gringotts could face could face severe backlash and I will not tolerate such actions." Griphook rose and leaned over his desk to make his point unmistakably clear. "Somebody will pay for this, Filluk. And, if you can't bring justice to that veela you will face the penalties instead. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal."
A sinister smirk found its way onto Griphook's face, "Good, I'm glad that we finally got that sorted out. Now, what do you have planned for your little bird hunt?"
"Well, sir, I have had my top security analyst review the robbery via the pensieve. You'll be shocked who he believes was a collaborator in this heist."
"Who?" Griphook replied anxiously.
"Sirius Black."
"If you weren't goblin I would say you're joking." Griphook started. "I wonder what, exactly, within our ancient walls was enough to draw out the infamous Mr. Black."
"We don't know yet, sir, but we will find out."
"How does this relate to the girl, though?" Griphook asked.
With a sigh, Filluk responded, "We don't know that yet, either. But, it might not be his relationship with the girl that is of interest here."
"What do you mean? She may know the other boy?" Griphook asked perplexed.
"We all may know the other boy." Filluk said, only furthering Griphook's confusion.
"What the bloody hell does that mean, Filluk? Get to the point!"
"We believe the boy may be Harry Potter."
"No, that can't be. That's impossible." Griphook said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.
"Yes, it should be impossible. But, then again, he did survive You-Know-Who's Killing Curse as a baby so maybe it is possible." Filluk countered.
Griphook gave a grunt of begrudged agreement before muttering a few choice gobbledygook swear words under his breath.
"Sir, I know it's surprising that Potter could be alive, but I assure you we can eliminate him along with the vee-"
"MERLIN, NO!" Griphook shouted. "Do you know what kind of hippogriff shit we'd be in if the Ministry or, Merlin forbid, the Daily Prophet found out that Gringotts had the Boy-Who-Lived killed!?"
Trying to assuage his superior's fears, "Of course, sir. That's why they will never find out who was responsible for the boy's death. I have already begun the process of assembling a unit of highly-trained assassins-…errr, I mean contractors, to do the deed for us. With my oversight, of course."
After a few seconds digesting Filluk's information, Griphook asked "Who did you have in mind?"
"So far we have Stryker Everbleed, an American who specializes in magical marksmanship; Elaine Vossen, a Dutch witch with an uncanny ability to track a target at a level that is supposedly unmatched on the Continent; finally, we have Victoria Bloodworth- I'm sure I don't have to explain how she came about her surname." As he listed off the contractors, Filluk conjured manila folders containing profiles of each one.
The first folder was filled with paperwork documenting past contracts that Stryker Everbleed had completed. Paper-clipped at the top of the folder was a magical photograph depicting a well-built man dressed in camouflaged wizarding robes posing with a dead acromantula. With an impressive beard and, what appeared to be a muggle hunting rifle, he fit the stereotype of an American hunter.
Elaine Vossen's folder wasn't as thick but was impressive nonetheless. The picture in her folder showed a young woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties, lithely built, with shoulder length blonde hair that was wrapped into a tight bun. Wrapped around her waist was a toolkit containing a variety of different tracking tools and trinkets meant to find her targets.
Lastly, the third and final folder contained nothing but a single photograph and one barely filled out application that only had the name and gender filled out. The photo was grainy and filled with a bustle of different strangers passing by. Only one individual could be made out clearly. She had raven-locks that flowed down her back, a pale complexion, and ruby-red lips that covered pointed teeth. This, undoubtedly, was Victoria Bloodworth, a vampire who had been feasting off her targets since, perhaps, the foundation of Gringotts itself.
Griphook gave a hum of approval at the team that he had assembled, "Not bad, Filluk, you may salvage your hide yet."
"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down." Filluk replied as he rose to exit the office. On the way out, Griphook called for him to stop.
"I know that I have stressed the importance of this matter at hand, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to assign one more wizard to your team. Unfortunately, that veela we're after has been having relations with Weasley and he is threatening to quit if he's not allowed to be put on the, and I quote, 'Search and Rescue' team. And before you try to cut me off," Griphook raised a clawed hand, "I can't afford to be down forty percent of my cursebreakers. The man even had the audacity to threaten to notify the Department of Magical Law Enforcement if we didn't take the 'necessary actions that are required.' If his brother wasn't whispering in the Minister's ear, I'd add him to the list of targets." Griphook finished with a snarl.
Knowing there was no way out of his predicament, Filluk sighed and replied, "I'm sure we can find use of him somewhere, sir."
And with that, Filluk left his boss's office to assemble his team.
The hunt was about to begin.
A/N
I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter of "Extenuating Circumstances", I know that I've enjoyed the time I've spent writing this story. I'm sure this chapter didn't answer many of your questions regarding how these sequences of events have taken place, but they will be answered eventually.
Also, I've had many people ask me about the pairing for this story and, as I told them, I won't be putting a pairing tag until later on in the story. But, I'm sure you all can surmise that Fleur was not enamored with her date with Bill.
As for an update schedule, unfortunately, I don't really have one right now. However, I am doing my best to aim for at least one chapter every other week.
Thank you again for reading, I really appreciate any reviews or PMs you may have about the story. I read all of them, so please, let me know what you think!
- BBF