Hello, this chapter was a lot of fun writing. Really excited to share it with you all.
As usual, my eternal gratitude goes out to my Beta readers, gamer0890, x102reddragon, DJKopper.

Chapter 10 – The Grave Is No Bar To Lord Voldemort

The weeks rolled away and Harry had thrown himself into practice and study like a man possessed, but the third task loomed proud and tall. It cast a shadow too, blacker than any pitch, and Harry knew that Voldemort was the source.

Dumbledore had been more than clear about that. The tournament was far too fortuitously timed. Though Dumbledore had taken every measure he could think of.

The death of Barty Crouch had thrown a cat among the pigeons. The ministry had been in and out of Hogwarts, so Harry had been trying to keep out of the way. Somehow Fudge still managed to find him, and Harry wasn't sure why he had bothered.

Still, he had made it this far. Moody had allowed him to keep a whole hide, for now. He still wanted Harry to perfect simpler spells with varied uses, he said that learning a hundred spells never helped anyone in a bind.

But whatever Harry was going through, others seemed to have it worse. Fleur had been around less and less, yet when they spent time together she was animated as ever. Any other time she was pouring over a book or rushing off to the Beauxbatons carriage.

She and the other champions had their exams to worry about. Despite being excused from doing them, it didn't mean much when Fleur and Viktor were taking their N.E. . Skipping the culmination of their educational careers would be silly, and Fleur had taken it very seriously indeed.

She took her exams a week before the third task.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. She hadn't stopped fussing over him all day.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

He had neglected to share the details of what Dumbledore had told him about Voldemort, and the final task was today. None of it looked survivable. It wasn't that he didn't trust Hermione or Ron with the prophecy, but he was in the same place Dumbledore must have been, endlessly unsure of how to go about it.

"You've barely touched your lunch."

Harry shrugged. He'd been avoiding thinking about eating, his stomach was in knots from the pressure on top of him. He was used to it, but this was different. At least, after today, some of that pressure would be lifted.

He hadn't been playing gobstones much, either, not since he knew they could explode and kill people. No matter what Dumbledore said, Harry didn't feel much like messing with them to see what might happen.

The great hall was bursting with excitement, muttering and restless feet fought for dominance. Ron was among them, though he tried to be more relaxed for Harry's sake, he had been giggling with his brothers and girlfriend. It wasn't that Harry minded, it was just a little annoying.

"Can't we just skip lunch?" he asked Hermione.

"Absolutely not! You need energy, today will be the hardest test yet."

A few scraps of food were easy enough to eat, nothing substantial but enough to appease Hermione. She relented, and they left, before long they were standing at a window overlooking the maze.

It stood many feet tall, shifting with each blink, and utterly imposing. Harry had heard the quidditch players' annoyance at the loss of their pitch, but he didn't much care for their plight, not today. No doubt whatever was in there he wasn't prepared half as much as he should. Bagman had said there were all sorts of enchantments and creatures crawling in the depths.

Hermione sighed.

"After today, it's all over."

Harry barked a dark laugh. One he'd copied from Sirius, it was a good laugh.

"Until next year, you mean."

Hermione paused, then blinked, "I guess you're right. It certainly does seem like clockwork."

Could Harry tell her? The prophecy was a secret, and Dumbledore had confided in him that Voldemort was desperate to hear the full thing. He had weighed telling Hermione, it seemed natural enough, but the risk was too great. Wasn't it?

Harry hadn't thought words could be heavier than mazes, but somehow this final task seemed feeble in comparison. Looking at the maze made his knees feel weak, which wasn't a good sign, but knowing Voldemort saw him as a mortal enemy was a tiny bit more serious.

"Did Dumbledore say anything about Sirius?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he said that he sent a letter to him, but we can't know where he is. I hope he can make it, but he has to stay as a mutt, too many people want to kiss him for an in-person appearance."

"Bet he'd love that, barring the dementors, of course."

"His fleas would scare off any sane person."

They shared a laugh.

Harry's eyes found the maze again.

Hermione shuffled them off, somewhere without windows, no doubt.

It wasn't a long wait until they were called to the maze. Harry led the way with Mrs. Weasley, who had been allowed to visit early as Harry's 'family', a gesture that warmed his heart. The rest of the Weasleys followed with Hermione, hardly leaving them enough room to spread out.

The other families stood around the head teachers of the three schools, each as different from the rest.

The Diggorys were very affectionate, Harry hadn't seen anything like it. Mrs. Diggory was teasing Cedric, flattening his hair and fixing his clothes, utterly destroying his roguish charm. Mr. Diggory kissed his son on the head and whispered some words to him, whatever was said Cedric beamed and his chin raised.

The Krums were more like what Harry knew, reserved and stiff. Viktor stood as an equal with them, taller than both, and he talked with his parents without passion. He looked an awful lot like his mother, Harry thought, their noses and eyebrows left their faces looking extremely severe. But they shared small smiles, nervous laughs, and even briefly touched each other.

They weren't distant.

Unlike the Delacours.

Fleur stood hard-faced and harder-eyed, looking at nothing, while her parents glared at her profile. Her younger sister stood with tears in her eyes as she tugged at her parents, confusion plain on her face. Fleur's mother was beautiful, but each softly sculpted line of her face was twisted with anger, contempt, and envy.

Harry could hardly believe his eyes.

When Fleur saw him she darted over and swept him up in a hug, she had never been overly affectionate, and certainly not in public. But now she kissed him full on the mouth and introduced herself to the Weasleys.

Harry couldn't quite make words out at first, honestly, he hadn't even thought of how to introduce Fleur. Mrs. Weasley looked a little bewildered, but a smile took over her face, she gave Fleur a hug and Harry sighed.

"Girlfriend? Harry, how'd you manage that, eh?" Bill teased.

"Animal magnetism."

Harry barely blundered over the look Fleur gave him. It wasn't easy to feign confidence.

"I'm a big fan of kind and sincere people. 'Arry 'appens to ooze both qualities," she said.

"Did you have to say 'ooze', really?"

Fleur's laugh made the walls of the maze recoil, or at least it felt like it to Harry.

"Should I go introduce myself—"

"No, maybe one day, but today my mother chose to bring a stick up 'er arse."

!

Fleur took a breath, steadying herself, as Ludo Bagman walked forward. His robes were ruffled, and his smile looked panicked.

"Well, this is it. The final task. Before you is a maze, the first one to reach the Triwizard's trophy at the center wins. Simple as that."

Fleur tried not to scoff, if it were as simple as that there wouldn't be one thousand galleons on the line.

"We are sending Mr Krum in first, followed shortly after by Mr Diggory, then Mr Potter and Ms Delacour will enter. Anything inside could be an enemy, so be prepared."

Bagman stepped back. Dumbledore walked into the gap he had left.

"Safety is our main focus, if you are hurt and cannot continue, send up red sparks; one of the staff will find you."

Fleur couldn't help but notice how his eyes found Harry, no doubt he was worried about Harry more than the rest, but it was more than that. Whether it was Harry's fame or stature as The-Boy-Who-Lived, she couldn't say.

Karkaroff often watched over Krum, more so than his parents. Perhaps that was just how it was to have a celebrity student.

The staff and organisers gathered a short distance away, waiting only a few seconds before Bagman walked back up.

"We are ready, Mr. Krum, please step forward."

A burst of excitement rocked the maze as the crowd stomped and screamed. Fleur couldn't help but step back, and bumped into Harry, who gave her a concerned look. She gave him a smile, but held her tongue, it felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

"On my mark… Go!" Bagman yelled. His voice rang, and the crowd echoed his energy.

Fleur could feel the fury of her mother, burning into her back, as if she had developed some new Veela powers. She decided to ignore her again. Trailing the others a fraction wouldn't matter, not when she had poured everything into this. No one would be able to stop her from winning, and she had checked the rules; she could stop anyone she saw.

"Mr. Diggory, Please."

This time the audience made Fleur's ears ring. Each student screamed their lungs to emptying, or close.

"Three, two, one." Bagman cheered along with the crowd. "Go!"

The noise was deafening, hundreds of people pressed in above them, peering down when it should have been the champions who were elevated.

Harry set off, his head held high and his strides relaxed. She envied his ease, no matter how forced it was. Fleur watched him with a faint awareness of her mother's eyes on her.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving toward the maze, and Bagman had shouted out.

She set off, jogging at first and only slowing at the first pathway, she diverted since she had seen the shifting of the maze from the Astronomy Tower. It had seemed that every path shifted, but she had studied it enough to know that the target didn't move at all. She planned to keep moving until things seemed to stop rearranging.

It wasn't the best, but it was better than nothing.

Ahead she caught a glimpse of something big, scaly, and bulbous, its body was bright red and shelled. An oversized crab, maybe? As she approached, it shot off a burst of sparks and fire.

She recoiled but didn't retreat. Whatever this was, it was rare, she hadn't seen anything like it. Well, not in a single animal.

Her wand flicked and one of the beast's legs jerked to the side as it started to rise into the air. Which, while useful, made it panic. Which made it erupt.

The maze walls, made from some massive bushes, caught fire. The thing screeched, and the maze burned.

Fleur watched it, heart pounding and hopes soaring. Then witnessed the bushes regrow almost instantly, without so much as a twig out of place. Because of course it wouldn't be that easy. Worse even than the bush; the creature was starting to fight her spell, its thick meaty limbs were wrestling free of her control.

Fleur backed up along the hedge line and kept her wand trained on the thing, waiting for it to react. Then everything shifted around her.

The path was empty and long, so she shook herself and made to rush ahead.

There was a faint mist, clinging to the ground, but Fleur couldn't avoid it. She took a cautious step and felt torrential winds rushing around her. From every angle gusts buffeted her, and she kept her feet planted on the floor, but that was the limit of her ability to press on. Her breath hitched.

After a second, she realised her hair wasn't blowing around, it only seemed as if there was a hurricane. She tested a step, finding no resistance was as off-putting as that last creature, but she managed to move. The patch of fog wasn't too long, maybe ten strides, but each step was a nauseating task.

Her mind seemed to scream that this wasn't natural, but her body was completely fine. A devilish enchantment. One to snare the mind. Fleur hadn't expected anything like this, but she knew enough to be comfortable to move forwards. The world didn't instantly right itself when she was out of the fog, instead, a lingering sense of off balance clung to her. As if in memory of what hadn't been happening.

She squatted down and recollected herself, it wouldn't take much to shock her now, and she had to be ready for anything. At least she wasn't dizzy.

Ahead a giant spider, with hair as thick as fingers, burst out into the path.

Fleur didn't stop to think, her wand was twirling in motion, and with a single word she brought forth fire. Nothing like her Veela fire, which was a part of her as much as her limbs, no this was a second-rate fire.

Still, the spider didn't stand a chance.

She ran past, even as it moaned pitifully.

Corners at strange angles appeared ahead and with nothing to suggest what might be a safe path. Fleur took the path that almost doubled back on her because it had looked to be more hidden than the rest. The maze had seemed devious already, she would give it some respect.

What she found nearly stopped her heart. Viktor Krum stood over a thick black snake, wand pinning the thing down, and ready to finish it off. Fleur had read and reread the rules, taking out fellow Champions was not only legal but encouraged, though her only concern was the new safety guidelines. They hadn't changed any rules, but they also hadn't given them direct competition yet.

Her mind whirled, if she attacked him now she might win, but if she messed up she'd have a furious Krum to deal with.

Krum turned.

Eyes sharp with focus, and face lined with strain. Krum didn't seem surprised by her, because he flicked his wand and disregarded the snake. Then they stared each other down, wands ready.

Fleur heard the pathway behind her shifting, hedge rustling and collapsing upon itself, and was forced to step fully into the path with Krum.

She slashed her wand first, not excited to see what the Durmstrang student might start with. A devious befuddling hex, her usual opening. It met resistance but not enough, Krum dived out of the way and rolled to the ready.

Fleur's next spell hit the hedge behind him. Krum's counter was swift. He transfigured the hedge behind her into spikes. Fleur had to run to avoid that. That had been a serious attack.

Fleur didn't give him a chance to try again. Her voice carried the threat she held as she sang, gently and full of malice, and poor Krum didn't stand a chance. His eyes were glazed over and glassy. A stupid smile covered him and it rather spoiled his face. Fleur did a twist and spin, all the while casting a simple stunning spell.

The red sparks would have to alert a teacher to him because Fleur wasn't staying around to wait.

She ran and ran, for what felt like ages, until she had to stop. Pathways had opened before her without problem, but each had seemed too obvious. So she had gone for any that seemed hidden, but before she knew it, the maze had her trapped. With nothing to fight against, she was panting against the hedge.

Nothing had jumped out at her, so she reasoned that she wasn't near the trophy, and if that was the case; she had a long way still to go. Her feet burned, and her thighs ached, but she would be damned if she let something so small beat her.

The world shifted.

She stood among a grove of trees, twisted and gnarled trunks littered the path, and from somewhere further ahead came a crooning song. Her heart raced ahead, the trees were too close together and not enough air made it to her. Her hands were sweaty, clammy, and someone was with her. An enemy.

She had no idea where she was, and somehow in her core she knew this place, if that were possible. Was she supposed to be here? That didn't make any sense to her, she was competing in the Triwizard Tournament, not traipsing in a forest.

A shrub, twisted and tortured, caught fire nearby. And out of those flames stepped a tall woman with bright blue eyes. Mist rolling off her outstretched hands, peace flooded off her and filled Fleur.

She shook her head, this wasn't right. None of this was right.

"Stay a while…" a whisper echoed in her head.

The voice was calm, soothing and gentle, but wrong. Fleur's very being protested the influence, it was as though she were fighting off an invisible brute.

"You have everything you'll ever need here."

She ground her teeth, ready to kill if need be, but didn't have full control of herself. There was a way, but it would limit her. Embracing her Veela birthright would give her the power to fight off this.

"Don't fight, girl, it's alright."

It was in her mind, lulling her as easily as breathing. There wasn't any more time left.

She embraced those swirling emotions, those that Veela thrived under, and burned.

The fire didn't erupt, it didn't burst. Instead, a fountain of flame cascaded in front of her. Causing the thing to back up, only a few steps, but enough for her to escape. Only, she didn't want to flee.

Not now.

Her wings snapped, leathery and strong. The air surrounding her flowed in obedience, in acknowledgement to her, and she took a step towards the woman.

She stood out from the hedgerow, covered in tattoos and wisps of smoke, fear etched onto her pathetic face. There was no weapon to be seen, but Fleur knew this beast's weapons weren't wands.

She struck hard.

Her talons were razor sharp, and its skin was easy enough to tear. The fire that burst from the wound would make do, an inferno that could devour stone would encase this monster.

And then she took off, letting her wings carry her faster than any legs could.

The hedges grew with her flight, blocking her from going over, but it didn't matter. In the air there were no obstacles that could challenge her, so she darted down any path she saw.

After all, being in her bird form was a sure way to exhaust herself.

It wasn't long before she found something, deep in the woods ahead she saw Diggory duck around a corner, and she pursued. The hedges here didn't budge an inch, somehow that tickled a memory.

Air rushed around her as she flung herself around the corner, and before her was much more than she bargained for. Diggory was trailing Harry, both looked slightly the worse for wear, but Diggory was limping. And there at the end of the path was an opening with the Triwizard Cup in the centre.

Fleur felt a rush of excitement. Her wings quivered as she made to fly past them, the very air was alight.

A sickly purple spell crashed into the hedge in front of her.

This time the hedge didn't heal off the spell. It withered and started to decay at a breakneck speed.

Fleur glared down. Diggory was expressionless, wand pointed right at her.

!

Harry floundered, Cedric had thrown his weight on Harry and knocked him down, but then he had felt that spell. It had ripped the air away around him as if it fled from the curse.

He gasped as he saw the hedge, rot consuming it, then he took in Fleur. Flying alongside the hedge, her face had that angular beak he had seen before. Her skin was replaced with tufts of feathers and scaly black wings.

"That's Fleur," he shouted to Cedric.

But Cedric just threw another curse at her.

Fleur landed lightly on the grass, her legs were lithe and ready, but her wand was alive with a red glow. Harry had seen her ready to fight once, but nothing like this. The cruel-looking beak was trained on Cedric, ready for blood. And Harry knew he had to do something.

He moved to stop them from killing each other, hoping that they both had an ounce of sense left.

The spell slammed him into the floor. It had come from behind, from Cedric. Thrown to the ground with the air knocked out of him, he panted for air, but nothing he could do would let him move. It was as if a great weight was on him, his chest creaked under the pressure.

Fleur snarled.

Harry could barely make it out, but Fleur's legs were very obvious, and she was pacing in front of Cedric.

"If you think that'll give you your win, you're mistaken," she snarled. Her voice was somehow melodic, soft but harsh. Harry felt a wave of something flood him and knew it was something not appropriate.

Cedric's feet didn't move, Harry knew exactly why. No doubt Fleur had ensnared his senses and was going to make a quick end to this.

Fleur jumped to the side, further away from Harry. A spell fizzled off in the distance.

Cedric had fought back.

Harry couldn't believe it, he and Cedric had joined up together not long ago, and they had fought off an acromantula. In all that time, all those opportunities, and no hint of him trying to attack him.

He tried to watch the battle but just ended up pressing mud into his face. He could manage to make both of them out, though.

'If you're going to do a thing, Potter, do it properly." Moody's voice swam into his mind. The spells he'd been learning were offensive, maybe too damaging to use on friends.

Fleur used a very twisty, almost dancing, style, her arm was moving in short wide arcs and spells flew in rapid succession. Cedric meanwhile batted away spells with contempt and anger, his face a mask of rage, and he had the upper hand.

It took Harry a minute to realise that Cedric wasn't talking at all, he was merely snarling at Fleur like a mad dog. It made Harry's skin crawl.

Fleur was panting as she tried to keep the upper hand, she often took flight, but Harry couldn't see what happened in the air. It was all he could do not to scream.

He had his pouch, waiting in his pocket, but he didn't know if he dared use them.

What might happen? He only needed to free himself, but he had no idea what spell had been used. No idea how the gobstones worked. He had neglected to learn about them like a fool.

He had to try something though. Fleur panted heavily, her chest heaving under the strain. Harry knew at that moment something needed doing.

He felt the gobstones sitting there, and tugged at them. With that strange magical connection.

One rolled up out of the pouch and felt hot against his skin, it rolled up his neck. He tried to force it out into the area between Fleur and Cedric, but closer to Cedric when he noticed it.

Cedric lay on the floor, his skin smoking from a fire that had to have come from Fleur.

It took a moment for Harry to realise he was able to move again. His arms felt heavy, but he still got up. Stiff and sore, he forced himself to move, and he rushed to Cedric.

He didn't know anything that could help him, but Cedric still breathed. Very shallowly.

Harry rounded on Fleur.

"Why did you do that, you could have killed him."

The gobstone trembled in his fist, or was it his fist that trembled?

"He was under the imperious curse, he wasn't affected at all by my allure."

Her voice was steady, calm even. But her face wasn't.

Harry took a step.

"So what? You try to kill him?"

"I had to stop him, I need to win, and he would have killed me to stop me. Or did you miss every spell he cast?"

Of course he hadn't, but still, there was no reason to nearly kill Cedric.

Fleur looked past him, there was blood on her face and her feathers. Harry wasn't sure if he was meant to be looking at her feathers, it seemed oddly intimate to him. But she wasn't bothered if she noticed.

She cast red sparks up and walked further up the path.

Harry followed, and Fleur nodded to herself ahead.

The cup glistened in the dark maze, a beacon of purity in a lair of evil. Well, it was pretty. Fleur gave it a long hard look.

"Only one way to do this," she said. Holding out her wand in a taloned hand.

A duel. Harry had expected it, kind of. Fleur was self-assured beyond belief, and she had the skill to back it up. But Harry had never backed down from a challenge.

"Fine. No hard feelings?"

She flashed him a soft smile, which with her face elongated to a beak was impressive.

"Of course not, if you can beat me, then I lost to the best."

So Harry readied his wand and thought up a plan to attack Fleur. He hadn't considered it before, not once, but a few ideas popped into his head.

As Fleur opened her mouth he cast an 'Aguamenti' charm at her, she was doused head to toe in water. Harry quickly darted to the side, eager to avoid her retaliation. He cast another one for good measure, but Fleur evaded it. She grinned down at him with her clothes already dry.

Her wand carved the air, and her movements caught him unaware. She was so graceful and lithe. Each soft curve of her body screamed tender, but firm. And Harry felt his mouth dry.

Fleur stopped dead. Then growled.

She backed up, muttering to herself.

Harry blinked, and he pulled his wand back up. He had let it fall to his side in his momentary lapse. Her Veela powers were a tough obstacle.

But he gaped as she reverted to the Fleur he knew all too well. Her soft face smiled at him, though it hadn't lost its eager edge.

"I refuse to beat you with you unable to defend yourself."

Her chin was lifted slightly, Harry had seen a haughty side of her a few times, but with this confidence and eagerness, it was a miracle he didn't make a fool of himself.

Harry did copy her gesture, his pouch of gobstones landed softly in the grass. Fleur's eye had twitched at that, and then her face looked very satisfied as if he had given her a big clue.

"Hurry up, Harry, we don't have all day."

Fleur without the bird feature was just as deadly, but she didn't spin and dance as much. Her spells still flew at him viciously. Harry had to dive out of more than a few of them, but he found his feet and never let her out of sight.

He was on the defensive, her skill alone ought to have ended the duel long ago, but Harry had always been lucky. A few cuts were nothing, he knew that he could win if he could get one good shot on her. She was much slower in defending than attacking. As if she never thought of its need.

Considering how he had been defenceless moments ago, perhaps she didn't.

He shook his head, his mind couldn't wander now. He had to focus.

Her feet shifted, and her incantation was in French. He had learned that wasn't a good sign earlier.

As the ground erupted where he had been standing, he darted at her, casting anything that came to mind. Just as fast as he could, one might get through. But none did.

Her shield charm stood tall and solid. Even panting as heavily as she did, she looked like a queen, but Harry didn't stop there. He snatched some mud and threw it at her, then cast another few harmless spells. Then he got even closer.

Fleur wiped the mud off of her, and glared at him. Harry was glad to see her surprise as she took in his new position, he shoved into her and ran off. A neat trick Dudley had taught him many times.

Knocking someone off their feet was the easiest way to win.

He cast a tickling charm at her, and she squealed.

A curse caught him in the leg. And he screamed.

But he got closer, just close enough to wrestle the wand out of her hand.

Fleur looked furious, amazed, and impressed. Harry wasn't out of the woods yet, he threw the wand away. Any safety would be better than none.

Fleur panted.

"You won," she breathed.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She was clearly exhausted.

"No, but I'm not hurt. Go get your trophy, before my pride gets the better of me."

"Together?" Harry asked. He meant it, if Fleur hadn't gone easy on him, he would have lost.

"No."

There was no argument there. He grabbed up his gobstones and Fleur's wand. Keeping both to himself, lest Fleur gave into temptation.

The Triwizard Cup beckoned him, and he hobbled up the stairs, his leg aching all the while. Fleur gave a small mocking applause. Harry turned to grin at her, but she was gone. A tugging at his waist ripped the sense out of him.

Harry felt his feet hit solid ground, the air was vibrant and clear. He certainly wasn't in the maze any more. He glanced about him, then blinked.

It was a graveyard.

Clear as day, a graveyard. Tombstones littered the surrounding ground. Harry saw nothing else of note.

A huge manor loomed over the area, a village's lights in the distance, but nothing that made sense for a portkey to bring him here.

Harry stumbled out to a nearby tombstone, more ornate than the others. On the marble plaque, he saw the name 'Tom Riddle' and felt his heart stop. A common name, but a name that held too much meaning.

He needed to move, and fast. But his leg was throbbing.

Ropes snaked around him from out of nowhere. He was flung against the tombstone, arms restrained and impossible to move. In the shadows of the manor walked a figure, with a wand raised, and pointed right at him.

Harry gulped. This had been Voldemort's big plan. And he had stepped into it like a fool.

"Well done, Wormtail," wheezed a weak voice.

Harry didn't need his scar to burn to know who had spoken.

And 'Wormtail', Harry seethed.

!

Fleur gaped.

Harry vanished, one second he had been there, then just gone. A portkey?

He had taken her wand too.

A burst of fire enveloped the far end of the clearing. She didn't shy away from it, so she saw Albus Dumbledore step out of the fire with panic painted on his face.

He didn't so much as glance at her. He darted over to the stand and muttered. His wand was twisting and tapping away.

Then Fleur realised that Harry wasn't safe, not at all. This wasn't according to the plan.

She must have made a sound, as Dumbledore rounded on her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He touched the Cup, but it was a portkey."

"Was it?" Dumbledore sounded distant as if he was already thinking up some countermeasures.

"Fawkes, try to find him, please."

A phoenix that Fleur had barely noticed trilled and erupted.

"Come, Ms Delacour, we must make sure everyone is safe and accounted for," he added under his breath.

The maze parted for Dumbledore. If she were less in shock, she'd have been a bit annoyed by that.

They exited the maze at the place they had entered. Diggory was being worked on by the school's healer and hovered over by his parents. Fleur felt a pang of sympathy there. Krum was glowering at her.

The crowd was silent. No doubt they had noticed this wasn't the jubilant ending they had intended.

"Can Fawkes find Harry?" she whispered to the headmaster.

"I'm almost sure of it."

Fleur couldn't help but hear some uncertainty in his voice.

Madam Maxime wrapped her up and fussed over her. Her father joined them soon, checking her face and holding her to him. Fleur allowed it, she was too tired to do much fighting.

What had happened to Harry? Dumbledore was on it, but what did that mean? Harry had still been entered into this tournament.

Alastor Moody hobbled into the clearing, Fleur knew his reputation, everyone did.

"Portkey... took Potter right off," he whispered to Dumbledore.

His gruff voice carried though, and mutters began to spread. Fleur saw the British Minister go pale. Not to mention Mrs. Weasley, who rushed over to Dumbledore, trying to be of help.

Fleur couldn't watch until there was something to be done; she had to take care of herself. She couldn't shake her father yet, his arms wound around her like a vice, but it wasn't quite as cold.

The noise of the area hit her, yelling and shouts burst up around her. The students had found out then. From what Harry had said, they were more likely annoyed that they'd have to wait outside a while longer.

She wished she could help, somehow.

There had to be something.

Dumbledore was comforting the Krums, his smile looked strained.

The Diggory's still flittered around their son, she hadn't killed him, she wasn't an idiot. But she could go apologise, then again it wasn't her fault their son had been—

She pushed her father away, muttering an apology. And she rushed to Dumbledore.

His hand felt weak in hers, but he allowed her to pull him away from listening ears. A few of his staff made to follow, but he waved them off.

"Diggory had been imperioused. His mind wasn't his own. And he was with Harry when I found them," she blurted out.

Dumbledore blinked, nodded, then thanked her and strode off. Purpose filling those strides.

She watched as he gathered his staff around him in a circle.

Snape, the one Harry hated more than anything, was visibly uncomfortable, guilty perhaps. The others were hanging off the headmaster's every word. Until something changed. They all pulled out their wands and trained them on Moody.

The veteran Auror.

No one in the stands had seemed to notice yet. But Fleur was watching like a hawk.

The old Auror was disarmed and dragged away, Dumbledore leading the way.

Fleur had to follow, her legs were sore and the muscles weak. She couldn't just wait, could she? Harry needed her.

The thought seemed to do something to her, something she didn't want to think about. But it gave her the strength to move on. She noticed the healer's bag was open, she couldn't miss a few pepper-up potions, and just slipped a few out of the bag. No one stopped her or even noticed her.

The first one went down smooth enough, a slight burn in her throat, but soon her energy was flowing back into her.

She brushed past a few people who were no doubt important and was just about to reach the clearing when a small hand grabbed hers.

Gabby looked up at her with scared eyes, Fleur groaned but stopped.

"What is happening?"

The French took her a second to process, she had gotten too used to English of late.

"Nothing, Albus Dumbledore has it all in hand. Harry just got lost, is all," she said. Though her soft and soothing words failed, Gabby saw through it instantly.

"Why are you panicking, then? Why won't you look at me? I miss you."

Fleur's heart broke. She didn't look at Gabby, she just wrapped her in a hug. One she had given hundreds of times before, but one she had expected to be done with. Mother had worked her charms on Gabby as surely as she'd failed with Fleur. But that wasn't Gabby's fault.

She kissed her sister, at first on her forehead, but soon she was kissing all over her adorable face. Relishing in her giggles.

"I'm panicked because, I think, I care for Harry a lot." Fleur tried to think of the right words. "He might be in danger, and just like with you, I can't let anything happen to him."

Gabby nodded. Tears smeared across Fleur's neck and chest, Gabby had always cried the biggest tears.

"You'll come back, right? Maman says you're not going to come back," Gabby whispered.

"Maman is an idiot. If you ever need me, I'll be right where you are."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Gabby, I need to go. You understand?"

Thankfully she nodded, Fleur gave her one last kiss, then rose and took off running.

She hated lying to Gabby, but she would be damned if she would be stuck with her mother while Harry needed her.

The path ahead was dark, night had long since fallen, and there was no sign of the Hogwarts staff. Fleur made her way to the castle and felt her spirits rise when she heard an angry Scottish curse word. Fleur threw back another pepper-up potion and made her way towards the sound, and was greeted by Professor McGonagall, pacing with the mud-covered teacher.

"Ms Delacour? What are you doing here?"

"Please Professor, I need to help Harry. Moody must know something, and… and…"

A hand fell on her shoulder, gentle and firm.

"I quite understand, you can wait here with us, but you won't be tearing off after Mr Potter. That is his teacher's job," Professor McGonagall said. Her tone was so sympathetic that Fleur could guess very clearly she had faced a situation like this before.

The other teacher conjured Fleur a chair and ushered her into it.

Before long, the door opened, and a grave-looking Dumbledore walked out.

!

"And now we duel! Bow Harry!" Voldemort taunted.

Harry felt his spine curve of its own accord, forced by magic. He tried to do anything, but he moved his wand and Voldemort attacked.

"Crucio."

The world faded, and nothing but pain existed for him.

How long he had endured it he couldn't say, but it did stop eventually.

Laughter and sneering met his ears, Harry could remember each name, but he was as powerless to do anything about it as he was in this 'duel'. Voldemort made some comments to his gathered cowards.

Harry writhed, the ground wasn't muddy, it was covered in grit and small rocks. He'd have preferred mud. The ground was hard and poked at him all over. But at least he could still feel.

"Get up Harry!" Voldemort snarled.

And Harry got up, not due to magic this time. This time it was pure spite, pure hatred and pure arrogance. Voldemort hated being challenged, Dumbledore had said so, and Harry would be that challenge until his last breath.

"So, you aren't a complete coward. Neither was your father, a fool yes, but not a coward."

Harry ignored it. He thought up the most deadly curse he could, 'If you're going to do a thing, Potter, do it properly.' His wand snapped at Voldemort. Who batted the spell away with contempt, "Harry, be careful, that spell could hurt someone. Didn't Dumbledore teach you anything?"

Harry growled.

Voldemort smirked, his pale face seemed to stretch to make it even more mocking.

"Children like you shouldn't play around with magic. Crucio!"

Harry collapsed, his legs fell away from under him and his body shattered. He was crushed against the floor, the spell had lifted, but Voldemort had walked over and kicked Harry's wand away. Then he stepped on Harry's face. A horrible laugh echoed around him.

Harry felt the warmth, and knew it at once, he had never gone long without them nearby. And despite how he had felt, he'd brought them tonight.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived, I find myself disappointed." The crowd laughed, joining their master.

Harry wasn't listening, though. His body hurt more than anything he'd ever known, he was bleeding freely from a few wounds, but more than that he felt his gobstones. Fourteen of them.

They rolled, silent and tiny, in the dark. Spreading out away from him, well except for one. He held on to it, the warmth was soothing.

He hadn't actually thought of it, they just reacted to his desire.

Voldemort crunched Harry's face into the rocks, then stepped back.

Harry just laid there, his mind linked to those gobstones, perhaps more than just his mind. He had an idea of what he was doing, and what would happen, but it didn't horrify him. It felt right at this moment. Unleashing, whatever it was, upon these 'people' didn't seem so bad.

"Get up, Harry, you'll die on your feet. It's the least I can do."

'If you're going to do a thing, Potter, do it properly.'

Harry somehow got up, his body alight with agony, but his mind was ready. He clutched one gobstone in his hand and faced Voldemort.

That warmth, ever-present from the gobstones, filled him; and he channelled it. Only into the single one in his hand, and it lit up, he smiled when it glowed a stunning green. He had always been told his mother's eyes were exactly like his, it seemed fitting.

Mutters burst out around him.

'Do it properly.'

Voldemort watched him, a sneer plain on his face. Harry's wand lay on the ground in front of him, and he watched as Voldemort made the connection.

Harry acted.

He reached into another pocket and pulled Fleur's wand out. He tapped it to the gobstone in one swift motion and cast an exploding charm.

The gobstones weren't linked, but for some reason they all exploded, just like Harry had expected.

Stupidly, he realised he wasn't dead. It was a strange moment, but the relief gave him a shock of energy.

He heard screams. He heard Voldemort most of all, his rage, pain, and confusion. But Harry wasn't going to die gloating.

A greenish haze covered him, sticking to him, and he managed to snatch up his wand. It felt good to have it back.

He dragged himself toward the Triwizard's Cup. He knew the people here were dying, or he hoped, either way, he wanted one last look at Voldemort.

But silvery shards of glass and magic hovered in the air, colours that he had grown so used to lingered. He could make out shapes, but nothing else. It was time to get out of here if he could.

The Cup was cold, but blessedly, it ripped him out of that grave.

AN: Thanks for reading, loving being back into the story and hope you all are too. If you want to check out more Harry/Fleur fics I'd strongly recommend joining the pairings discord server. discord gg/ SVr9w9C5

Much love to you all, see you again next time.