Hello Everyone and Welcome Back!
First I need to say that this will be a part 1 of 3. Originally it was suppose to be one chapter but I kept noticing areas of expansion. I was also helpfully reminded of other areas by fan comments so it ballooned to a large amount of content that I just couldn't fit in one chapter with the time I have.
Second, this chapter will feature more of the girls and other characters so Harry isn't quite so center stage... at least not all the time. The reason for that is I wanted to add a little more history and depth to surrounding characters. Let me know what you think!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 7/16/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
A Complex Day Part I
"How much longer do you think he'll be out for, professor?" Hermione asked Perenelle, sitting beside Harry's bed in the privacy of Nicolas and Perenelle's living quarters. It had been a week since the Acromantula attack, and though Harry was recovering well, he had yet to wake up. Perenelle was making sure Harry was comfortable when Hermione spoke.
"It's difficult to say," Perenelle answered. "Physically, he's as fit as can be, but mentally, I'd say he still has more fatigue that'll require more time for rest. The mind is an infinitely complex thing, not unlike magic itself."
"How do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Mnn, I say this as someone who's lived for quite some time," Perenelle started. "The human mind is the most complex map we will never have the privilege of fully exploring, exactly like the mysteries beyond our world and how magic connects it all together. Even at this age, I'm constantly surprised by what the mind and magic are capable of achieving."
"Is that why Ares is the way he is?" Hermione asked curiously, looking at the sleeping boy. "Because he's explored more of this complex map than many of us have?"
"He's certainly experienced more than most," Perenelle returned sourly. "And on average, his explorations tend to be more life-threatening than I care for. Just once, I'd like for a problem of his to be something simple like having no clue what to wear for a date."
Hermione smiled, adding, "He really does run headfirst into a lot of dangerous situations," prompting a smile from Perenelle. "He wasn't joking about that. I know he warned me, us, and on some level, I knew he was serious about keeping us from those dangers—I mean his scars say as much—but until I was in it, I never really knew." Hermione looked forlorn at thoughts of the attack.
"If you happen to be reconsidering how close of a friend you'd like to be," Perenelle started to propose. "I'm sure he'd understand."
"From a life-preserving standpoint, I won't deny that would be a pragmatic decision, but it's odd," Hermione said to the elder professor. "Sometimes when I look at him, I get this feeling, as if he knows me. Not always but sometimes. I have this feeling, as if recalling this certainty that he'd never abandon me. And he didn't, did he? Even when the Headmaster—who's supposed to be the one to protect us—did abandon us, Ares didn't. How can I possibly reconsider a friendship like that?"
"He'd say, 'you might live longer,'" Perenelle said with a smile.
"He also says, 'quality, not quantity,'" Hermione responded with her own smile, making Perenelle laugh.
"He does, doesn't he. Well, one piece of advice then," Perenelle offered. "That boy is as stubborn as a mule, but whether you agree with him or not, he always appreciates candor when speaking one's mind. So never be afraid to honestly speak yours."
"I won't," Hermione replied, then there was a knock on the door. Perenelle nodded at Hermione, who got up and went to answer it. Not surprised to see Daphne, she let her in and they made their way through the cozy common room into Harry's room.
After greeting Perenelle, Daphne grabbed a seat by the dresser and pulled it close to Harry's bedside.
All the while, Perenelle informed them, "Okay girls, I have a professors meeting to get to," as she moves to the door. "Fetch me if there's any change."
"Yes Professor," Hermione replied at the same time Daphne said, "we will." It had been like this for the past four days—since they began coming to Nicolas and Perenelle's dorm regularly.
Once they were alone, Daphne asked with heavy sarcasm, "Has the 'Queen of France' been around?" She even dramatically fanning back her hair with an unnecessary flamboyant hand.
Though humored, Hermione insisted, "She's not that bad."
"To you, maybe," Daphne added. "You two are practically flat-mates now. She gives me the haughtiest looks."
"No she doesn't," Hermione asserted.
"Can I please speak to the real Hermione? The smart one?" Daphne asked, without a sense of insult.
"Oh, you mean the one who's beating you in every subject?" Hermione returned just as casually before her eyes widened, surprised by her own retort.
She was about to apologize when Daphne smirked and said, "Catty, Granger. It's nice to see you're not a total pushover." Daphne commended her before continuing, "You must see how threatened she is by me, right? With her looks and her family's position, she's likely always gotten whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it... until now. Ares looks beyond nobility and the physical, which I'm big enough to admit she is... well, beauty has many forms, doesn't it? We're all beautiful in our own ways. Hers is just..."
"Outlandishly unforgivable," Hermione curiously finished.
"I was going to say, exotic," Daphne undoubtedly returned. "Which only denotes a small measure of foreign allure." Hermione nodded her head in clear acceptance, as if it would just be denial to say otherwise.
Daphne continued, "But that's my point. Beauty isn't the real competition in this case. Her greatest strength doesn't influence how Ares treats her. Do you know how exhilarating that is? That he's the type that puts more emphasis on the character of a person, rather than their looks? Shes part Veela; seductive on a magical level with the ability to charm wizards. With her allure, every guy and half the girls would kill to be with her."
"Except Ares," Hermione finished for her.
"Except Ares," Daphne repeated with a grin. "What do you suppose she expects to happen? She doesn't strike me as the, 'wait-and-see' type which means she's had to have made a move by now. If that's the case, then he more than likely said no, or she would've told us to keep it friendly with him, if not outright asked us to stay away. The arithmetic value of this being the probable state of affairs is-"
"Sixty-seven point four percent," Hermione interjected. "And to answer your question, she probably expects the same thing you do... for Ares to pick her on the merits of her character rather than the pleasure of her looks."
Daphne caught the slight resistance in Hermione's statement and asked, "Would you rather not talk about this?"
Hermione paused a moment longer than she should around the very perceptive Daphne before replying, "While I'll admit talking about the subject matter in front of the subject matter is a rather unsavory, you're the one who wanted to talk about this."
"No, well, yes, but you seem... quietly introspective," Daphne asserted. "I just thought maybe..."
"...Maybe..."
"Maybe you were having second thoughts... about helping me." Taking a deep breath, Hermione cleared her throat, intent on speaking, but stalled for an adequate response, and that was all the indication Daphne needed to assert, "You are having second thoughts!"
"It's not that I'm having second thoughts," Hermione quickly returned. "I meant what I said before. I really do feel like if a close friend and I liked the same boy, I'd step aside. I've never liked the notion, or even the perception, of girls fighting amongst themselves over a boy. I find it to be so incredibly degrading to women, and a colossal waste of time better spent studying."
"You can always go for his mate," Daphne suggested. "Draco is garnering a lot of attention recently. He's always been attractive, but now he's a lot less of an entitled prat."
"I'll admit he's attractive in a delicate sort of way, but I don't think I can ever date someone who was so horrid to me," Hermione said. "He made me cry numerous times. Call me unconventional, but I'd prefer a boy who doesn't have to pick on me because he's deathly afraid to say the words, 'I like you.' Though, I'm certain in Dracos case, he was just naturally contemptible. And how silly is that? Someone is mean to you for ages, makes you cry often, so then the natural course of events is you accept his advancements and date him? I just don't see the logic or romance behind that. Also, Tracey is a little scary, and I'd feel much more comfortable going about the rest of my school years without making an enemy out of her."
"I suppose she would be the proverbial final nail in that coffin. Tracey and I were nearly at each others throats over Ares. It's why I thank Merlin every day for Draco, or I'd be fighting her and the Croissant Queen simultaneously… but I suppose I now need to replace Tracey with you."
"Honestly, Daphne, did you not hear a word I said?" Hermione wearily expressed with some irritation.
"I did, but you also left your intent open," Daphne returned. "You don't like a cat fight but…"
"There is no but," Hermione insisted. "I want to be his friend—his best friend if he'll have me—but I won't deny I've entertained a fair amount of thought of what it might be like to be more, and I'd be lying if I said I'm against it."
"You're being very indecisive about this—which is a terrible attitude to have going into anything," Daphne easily replied. "Either help me or help yourself, but you need to commit, or you run the risk of ending up with neither friend or more."
"It's not indecision," Hermione defended. "You seem to think that just because I'm not fighting you for Ares that I'll lose out in some way, but that's not the case. The probabilities being what they are, well, you said it yourself: Ares looks for the character of a person rather than their beauty or title. That girl can be almost anyone. But no matter what happens, I still want you all in my life. If he chooses you, I can accept that as much as I can accept him choosing Fleur, and I'll still be your friends. I don't mind competing against you for top Hogwarts student, but Ares is not a competition for me and it feels demeaning to even think of him like that. So, if I can't see him as competition, then obviously, I can't see you as an adversary, either."
"Life and love are battlefields you have to fight for if you want to win, Hermione," Daphne stated. "And you may come to regret that liberal approach later on."
Hermione casually shrugged as she replied, "The only thing I'll regret later in life is if I don't make Minister of Magic by the time I'm thirty."
Daphne shook her head lightheartedly with a smirk before saying, "I don't understand how you can put so much focus and detail into planning your future, but not into the person you want to spend it with."
"I don't think I can give you an answer for that," Hermione said. "Except to say, I can't control other people's feelings. If a boy does or doesn't like me, I can only assume he means it, or else why say it, or show it?"
"Outside of one thing, boys never know what they want."
"Then I'll wait for the one who does," Hermione pledged. "In the meantime, I'll focus on the one thing I can control, my future."
"Fine," Daphne said with a huff. "I'll relocate you in the Possible Threat pile."
"I'm not a threat!" Hermione restated before they heard a knock at the door.
"Maybe you're not," Daphne stated with suddenly sharper eyes. "But a galleon says the person behind that door is."
Walking over to answer the door, Hermione offered, "You know, it isn't a betrayal of how you feel to genuinely be friendly with her. But what would I know?" she sarcastically asked without expectation of an answer. "It's not as if I subscribe to the sway of popular romantic ideology."
Sure enough, the shapely figure of the enchanting Fleur Delacour entered the charming living room, dressed in her form-fitting, powder-blue, silk uniform, smiling radiantly with her cherry sweet lips and sweeping long eyelashes. As was her custom, Fleur pressed her rose petal soft lips on each of Hermione's cheeks.
"Bonjour, 'Ermionee," Fleur cheerfully greeted.
"Bonjour," Hermione returned.
"'Ow ees 'e," Fleur asked, following the bushy haired girl.
"No change," Hermione answered as they entered Harry's room.
"Bonjour Daphne," Fleur greeted, also with a double cheek kiss. Looking around the room for—Nicolas, Perenelle, or any of the other visitors; namely Luna, Draco or Tracey—Fleur asked, "Eet ees zhe zhree of us again?"
Hermione informed her, "Professor Flamel had a staff meeting to get to, and Nicolas left early this morning to speak to the head of the DMLE."
Fleur walked to Harry's bedside, but rather than bring a seat over, she plopped her bottom on the spacious bed, crossed her legs, and leaned against the headboard. Daphne's crystal-blue eyes pay far too much attention to the liberties Fleur was taking, while Hermione eyed Daphne with a look that asked, 'be nice.'
"Ees zhere any newz on whezher zhey will charge 'im?" Fleur asked either girl.
"Are we even allowed to tell you anything about that?" Daphne cautiously returned. "Considering the diplomatic liability this crisis between our governments would no doubt create if we tell you what we may or may not know."
"Eet ees possible," Fleur answered honestly. "I 'ave every intention of defending Arez, as does my fazher."
"Then maybe we should stay clear of this topic for now," Daphne reasoned. "I don't want to be responsible for any sort of testimony I may not want to give later on."
"That's probably for the best," Hermione agreed. "At least until Ares wakes up."
Fleur tilted her head down to the quietly resting Harry—tucking her beautifully cascading of white-gold hair behind her ear—and whimsically asked, "'Ow many years must you make us wait before we turn into stone, Monsieur Trouble Star?"
Hermione smiled as she brought out her occlumancy book.
"I must say, Fleur," Daphne began. "You seem to know Ares quite well, to wait here like this until, how'd you put it? Turn into stone?"
Fleur turned to Daphne, eyeing her with a certain everlasting confidence. Quickly uncomfortable in her seat, Hermione brought her book closer to her face, but couldn't concentrate with her usual level of focus. Picking up on Hermione's unease, Fleur said, "Come now, 'Ermionee. Zhere ees no need to feel unsettled. Eet ees true we do not know much of each ozher." Turning to Daphne, Fleur continued, "Zhat ees what you're curious about, non? You weesh to know more about me?"
"This is the fourth day in a row you've come to see him," Daphne pointed out. "And you're neither his first friend at Hogwarts," she said, indicating Hermione with a nod in her direction. "Or his housemate. So, yes, I feel it's perfectly reasonable to want to know a little more about you."
"I am 'appy to 'ear you zhink so," Fleur returned. "After zhree dayz of small talk, I am very eager to 'ave a real discussion and learn more about each of you. Why do we not go around and say somezhing important about ourselvez zhat zhe ozhers may not know. I'll go first," she says, not giving them a chance to refuse. "Hmmm, ah, nozhing irritates me more zhan small talk. I come across zhat impotent talk too often een galas and events, and consider eet a tremendous waste of time."
"Why is that important to you," Hermione curiously asked. "It doesn't seem like a big deal."
"As you may already know, I am part Veela," Fleur told them, pausing only a moment to see if the girls reacted prejudicially towards half-breeds. When they didn't, she continued. "Due to my 'eritage, I am 'ighly perceptive to zhe emotions of ozhers. Eet does not work wizh everyone, but after much practice, I have a good sense of whezher a person ees lying to me or no, among ozher zhings. Een my experience, small talk ees merely a mask for zhe weak who are too afraid to speak what ees truthfully on zheir mind, and az zhe daughter of zhe Deputy Minister, I 'ave no choice but to entertain zheir aggravating lies of grandeur. Eet ees zhe sole reason I will stay away from politics."
"...That's a neat trick to have,"Daphne said slightly envious.
"Oui," Fleur agreed. "Ermionee?"
"...Mmnn, well, it's very important to me that I become the Minister of Magic," Hermione told the girls.
"That's not fair," Daphne proclaimed. "I already know that one."
"Well, I did not," Fleur stated. "And I suddenly feel embarrassed for what I said. I did not mean to imply all politicians are aggravating—my fazher ees not, for instance."
"No, I know," Hermione said, not at all offended. "I can understand that part of politics isn't the best."
"Still," Fleur continued. "Zhat ees an ambitious and amazing goal, 'Ermionee. Eef I am ever able to, you must allow me to assist you."
"Than at least tell me why?" Daphne asked Hermione. "You never did tell me that. Out of every job you could possibly do, why Minister?"
"Well, I'd love to say something altruistic like I want to enact lasting and positive change for all magical kind, and to an extent, that is true, but I can't deny how angry I get over the way muggle-born witches and wizards are treated by others in our society. Bad things can happen to them... very bad things, and- and it's like no one cares. Even at the top of my class, I'm consistently looked down upon, like some know-it-all teacher's pet, who'll never amount to anything simply because of the lack of status behind my birth."
"I unzerstand you completely," Fleur sympathetically and vigorously expressed. "Een my case, eet ees infuriating to be seen az nozhing more zhan an object to facilitate sexual desire. I am een zhe top one percent of my class, az well az one of zhe finest duelists they 'ave ever produced, and yet wizh most of zhe men I meet, I can sense zheir pledges, gifts, and words of kindness serve only one purpose een zhere minds." Hermione and Daphne have a slightly clearer understanding of the French beauty when Fleur continued to tell the bushy-haired Gryffindor, "I know you are more zhan zhe status of your birzh, just az I am more zhan a sleeve for zhe sole purpose of wrapping around a cock."
"...So," Daphne almost hesitated to ask Fleur. "And you don't have to answer this if you don't want... but... you've never fooled around before? Or had sex? I just mean considering your stance I could understand, but you seem... there's a certain level of... experience about your demeanor." Daphne was curious and a little shocked, as was Hermione. They both thought with her age and beauty, she would've already experienced making love with a man.
"Eet saddens me to zay my maidenhead ees still intact," Fleur said, genuinely looking sad as she did. "'Owever, you must unzerstand eet ees not my fault!" she stated emphatically, pointing a finger at them. "My mozher refuses to allow me to seduce older men or zhe professors, even zhough zhey are better at resisting my allure zhan zhe boyz een my school. Furzhermore, every potential mate nearest my age zhat I 'ave 'igh 'opes for, cum all over zhemselvez een a matter of seconds. I can 'ardly get on my knees before, 'prfft,'" she added a squirting, spitting noise with her mouth and tongue, along with a hand jerking motion for their benefit—not that Hermione or Daphne needed the audio and visual effect to understand the dismayed french girl.
"Uh," Hermione tried to search for words to a conversation she's never had with other girls. "I've-I've read that's called premature ejaculation," is all she can think to say, her cheeks a twinge with rose blood. "It's caused by high levels of stimulation."
"...Is that a, uh, common occurrence... among French men?" Daphne asks slightly scandalized.
"Of course not," Fleur answers. "Eet can 'appen to any man. Een truzh, eet ees not zhere fault. I simply lack zhe control over my allure when I am most passionate, or excited. Once, I waz wizh zhe most beautiful man you 'ave ever seen. 'E was twenty-four years of age, so naturally, I did not tell my mozher... and neizher will eizher of you—zhis stayz among us girls, yes?" The two nod their head before she continues. "I waz so excited to lose my virginity to such an Adonis, I could not control zhe strength of my allure, and he came zhe moment my tongue brushed zhe underside of 'is man'ood." Hermione bit the corner of her lip apprehensively before shaking her head, as if to alleviate herself of troubling thoughts. It did not escape Daphne's notice as Fleur continues to say, "Zhe weakest of my stale-mates, ejaculated een 'is trouzers zhe moment I tried to unfasten 'is belt." Fleur sighs deeply before asking, "much seductiveness can be an unforgiving bitch, non?"
Daphne and Hermione turned to each other and the question was clear in their heads: 'was that a rhetorical question?'
"Well... uh, I have no desire to be Minister," Daphne said evenly, slightly apprehensive at how open Fleur was to sharing. "So, I'll help you in any way I can."
Hermione nodded gratefully, still thinking about Fleur's unique problem. Oddly fascinated, yet more than satisfied with the amount she'd already heard, Hermione turned to Daphne and with a chipper attitude stated, "Your turn."
Daphne didn't seem like she wanted to play along but let out a quick huff and said, "I... would prefer others know nothing about me."
"Weak," Fleur teasingly called.
"Well, despite your best efforts," Hermione began. "That does seem to be very important to you."
"You do seem a 'touch' controlling," Fleur jokingly pointed out. "Not unlike someone we know," she added, nodding toward Ares. "Why ees zhis important to you?"
Again, Daphne seemed to not want to play along but ultimately answered, "Aside from being a good quality to have as an Unspeakable, I was raised with a business-like mentality, where deception and unpredictability are strong qualities to have. If you never let your enemies know you, than they can never defeat you."
"Do you zhink everyone is your enemy?" Fleur asked with some concern.
"No," Daphne responded. "I don't care about most enough for that."
"Will you at least tell me why you want to be an Unspeakable?" Hermione asked.
"I suppose that's fine," Daphne stated. "Unspeakables know all sorts of dark and terrible things the rest of the world isn't supposed to know, and I like that. What they teach us in school is a joke compared to all that's out there to learn. Things the world has no clue happened or could happen that might've easily destroyed our very way of living. Forbidden knowledge is thrilling."
"You've certainly earned your green and silver," Hermione joked before asking, "the Department of Mysteries report to the Minister on a weekly or bi-weekly schedule?"
"I can't say," Daphne answered with a smile. "Or won't," she added with a confident smirk.
"You 'ide yourself quite well," Fleur commented. "Even I cannot sense anyzhing more from you ozher zhan zhe 'ostility a protective mate bares upon a potential suitor." Straight-faced, Daphne neither confirmed nor denied anything to the French beauty.
"Even if that was the case, it doesn't seem to bother you," Hermione said, more curious than anything.
"Why would eet?" Fleur asked. "Arez ees unlike any ozher man I've ever met, non? Eet ees unzerstandable Daphne should feel zhis way. Zhe one I do not unzerstand, 'owever ees you."
Hermione looked confused as she asked "How do you mean?"
"Of everyone een zhis room, you seem to 'ave zhe strongest sway over Arez' 'eart," Fleur told Hermione.
Out of her peripheral, Hermione could tell Daphne was paying extra attention. Hermione didn't know what to say, but Daphne followed up with, "Why do you say that?"
"Zhat day of course!" Fleur answered, referencing the acromantula attack. "Zhe day of second chances—or zhird een my case," she looks sad to admit before continuing. "I am unsure of all you've been told but I confess to you I was terrified. My fazher has seen zhe memories een zhe pensieve, and even 'e admits, wizhout Arez, zhere would 'ave been a substantial loss of life. Az I stated earlier, I can receive emotional impressions from ozhers due to my Veela nature. I can zhen interpret many likely theoriez. Eet was effortless to read zhe tremendous amount of magical strengzh Arez was displaying. Eet was absolutely astronomical and all of it came from an unmatched desire to protect. I felt 'is need to protect you, Daphne, Professor Flamel, Draco, and Tracey, but out of everyone, you, 'Ermione caused 'im zhe most fear. Zhe platform we were standing on nearly collapsed when 'e learned you were in zhe field. 'E defied 'is 'eadmaster and zhe near certainty of death to rescue you all. Zhat ees a man of great conviction, and eef nozhing else, you, Ermionee, mean a great deal to 'im."
There was a moment of silence, each girl fully taken with their thoughts about Ares. What he meant to them; what they suspect he feels toward them; the undetermined potential of his ability, and what the future could look like. Regardless of future hopes and dreams, the three girls had never met anyone of the opposite sex within their age range who was very much in a league of his own before. The excitement of what that could mean going forward was perpetually thrilling to them, if in their own ways.
Daphne turned to Hermione, asserting, "Well, you've just been bumped up to a definite threat now."
Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. She cleared her throat before asking Fleur, "So, you really fancy him, then? Like properly fancy him?"
"Oui," Fleur easily answered. "Despite 'ow I believe 'e may feel about you, 'e 'as saved zhe life of my precious seester, and 'e 'as saved my own life zhree times now. 'E can resist zhe full strengzh of my allure and 'e 'as not explicitly stated 'e 'as a lover. 'E ees handsome, powerful and recently, I've developed a fetish for scars. My fantasiez are saturated wizh scared men now."
Daphne and Hermione both smiled at Fleur's odd sense of inappropriate remarks.
Sensing an opportunity, Daphne smirked as she added, "You should've seen him without a shirt. He has even more scars; larger than the ones on his face."
"You must tell me!" Fleur gasped happily.
"No," Hermione hollered, though slightly amused. "We can't. We shouldn't."
"Why not?" Fleur asked, brows crunched in curiosity.
"Well…" Hermione began, grasping for logic. "Well, don't you feel it's a little inappropriate to think of how attractive he- how- ...He was seriously injured rescuing us. His entire torso was exposed from the Acromantula clawing at him, ripping his clothes off. His muscles were tight, twitching, and his skin was burning from the dark venom. How are we supposed to just... admire him like that?" she asked, but her cheeks blush slightly.
Fleur curtly turned to the other blonde in the room, asking, "Daphne?"
"He's more muscular than you might imagine," Daphne began to say as Hermione plopped back in her seat, feeling defeated. "He's very fit, toned, right down to his hips, which you could just tell keeps going all the way down. He's defined, but not bulky." A knock at the door interrupted what was sure to be a good hour of delightful communion, insightful anecdotes, and analytical observations about Ares' body. Hermione gladly went to answer the door and soon returned with Nova, happily cooing in her arms—Draco and Tracey following behind the bushy-haired girl.
"Where'd Luna go?" Hermione asked Draco.
"Went to play with the Weasley girl and her joker brothers," Draco stiffly answered.
Once near the bed, Nova flapped her wings three times, gathering more than enough lift to hop and land on Harry's chest, prompting Hermione to comment, "Gently, Nova."
"Is he still sleeping?" Draco curiously asked
"This wasn't a simple fall from his broom, Draco," Daphne returned. "It takes more time to recover from severe magical exhaustion."
"Maybe you were wrong," Tracey told Draco, who replied, "maybe."
"Wrong about what?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing, really," Draco said. "I just got this feeling like he was awake."
"It was more than that," Tracey added. "Even Nova cut her flight early and rushed us to bring her back."
Hermione, Daphne, and Fleur looked at each other—startled in Hermione's case, alarmed in Daphne's case, and thrilled in Fleur's case.
"No," Hermione began denying. "He- he couldn't be."
Moving closer to his ear, Fleur, rather seductively, chanted, "Arez? Are you awake, monsieur Trouble Star?" There was no response as Nova laid comfortably on his chest. Moving a strand of his long, pitch-black hair out of the way, Fleur noticed a delineation in the skin tone of the right side of his forehead that resembles a lightning bolt. She mumbled, "I've never noticed zhis scar before."
"So… he's not awake?" Daphne cautiously asked.
"I cannot tell," Fleur returned, leaning in close to the sleeping boy. "I suppose I could recreate Charles Perrault's famed tale, La Belle au Bois Dormant."
"La Belle au..." Hermione questioned, digging deep through her French vocabulary. "Sleeping Beauty? You mean to kiss him awake?"
"Do it," Draco called with a grin. "He needs a good snogging."
"What do you mean, 'kiss him?'" Daphne asked. "Where did kissing come from?"
"La Belle au Bois Dormant ees a tale depicting the waking of a beautiful princess from under an enchanted sleep wizh true love's magical kiss," Fleur sweetly answered. "While I do not believe in such quaint tales of naive love, I am confident a kiss from me will arouse a response from our sleeping princess."
"Or Daphne could do it," Tracey staunchly suggested on behalf, and in defense, of her friend. Daphne felt conflicted since she didn't like the feeling of backing down, or making her intentions so obviously known.
"Or maybe you can use your allure, instead?" Hermione suggested. "If he doesn't respond than we'll know."
Fleur seemed bummed by the alternative suggestion but nodded in acceptance. Draco quickly moved to the furthest side of the room, curiously followed by Tracey. Fleur leaned in closer to Ares, tracing the smooth cliffs, soft valleys, and dark, scared trenches of his facial features with her delicate index finger.
"Anytime now," Daphne interjected.
Fleur gave her a sheepish smirk before she began to relieve control of her allure, and the room immediately felt it. Before Fleur could release half, however, Nova leaped closer to his head and petted his face with both sides of her cheek.
"Eet would appear we 'ave anozher rival," Fleur comically told the room as a long sigh escapes Harry's lips, followed by the slow reveal of his beautiful emerald irises. Harry's sight was filled with Nova's beak and blood red eyes, and his hand naturally moved to pet her. "Hey," was all he said as the shuffling of pushed chairs from either side of the four poster bed alerted him to the others.
Harry achingly lifted himself upright to lean against the headboard while Fleur, Hermione, Daphne, Draco, and Tracey surrounded his bed. "Hey," he simply said.
"You're awake," Daphne exhaled more to herself than the room.
Fleur moved out of the way to let Hermione hug him as she said, "We were all very worried."
Harry placed his free hand firmly at the center of Hermione's warm back, happy to see her again as Draco asserted, "I knew you were awake. I just got this weird feeling, then Nova hurried back, antsy to see you."
Hermione let him go as Harry curiously asked, "Why didn't she just flame to me?"
"You're not going to like this," Draco began. "Take a look at her leg."
Harry inspected Nova's leg, and sure enough, there was a cloth-like parchment, with an unclear rune scheme folded in a tight looking knot, making it unreadable.
"What the fuck is this?" Harry hotly asked, the edge clear in his voice.
"That," Draco started. "Would be a safety measure Dumbledore—in all his infinite wisdom—felt was absolutely necessary for the protection of the castle: never mind how it saved everyone."
Tracey added just as snidely, "Though his own phoenix seems conveniently exempt from shackles."
"You're saying it keeps her from flaming?" Harry asked the silver-blond.
"It's tamper-proof, unbreakable, and yes, keeps Nova from flaming," Draco answered.
"That fucking, egomaniacal knob," Harry cursed under his breath. Taking a breath to calm down, he then asked, "How long have I been out?"
"Saturday to Saturday," Daphne answered. " A full seven days."
"Damn, that's long," Harry mumbled with disappointment. "What else happened? Dumbledore couldn't have been the only prat throwing their polluted weight around."
Everyone looked at one another before Fleur stepped forward and spoke, "Zhere ees a strong claim zhat you were- are Zhe Green Reaper zhat zhe ministry 'as been searching for."
"Umbridge and everyone on her side are the ones making that claim," Daphne proclaimed. "It's the only topic that's mattered in the Prophet, and the Minister and the DMLE are under a lot of pressure right now from multiple fronts to act."
Draco added, "There's a huge debate going on to see whether they'll charge you for the murders of Rowle, Jugson, and Nott."
"Why not charge me?" Harry asked, lazily pulling his long hair back. "What's the other side of the debate?" he asked as Fleur took it upon herself to help him set his hair in a knot.
"The French Ministry," Hermione answered. "The very moment the ministry proceeds to officially charge you with the murders of now known Death Eaters, the French Ministry will have legal precedence to use that official charge to retaliate by claiming those same British wizards attempted to murder prominent French wizards, namely the daughters of the Deputy French Minister, which could very well lead to a diplomatic and political nightmare. So the British Ministry either defends these Death Eaters and make an enemy of France—and I suppose anyone who hate Death Eaters by arresting you—or they don't proceed with anything official and nothing happens."
Tracey interjected, "Add to that, the Prophet already ran the story that the Ministry forced them to hold back the one with you and your glowing eyes saving Fleur and her sister against a death squad. So the Ministry is facing even more pressure from the citizens if they decide to go after you."
"Originally it was father who wanted to proceed with finding and charging you," Draco informed Harry with a particular disgust in his tone. "But now that he believes you're the Green Reaper, he's honor bound to either defend you, recuse himself from leading that charge, or face justified consequences for breaking a magical honor oath if he proceeds."
"The House of Flamel has garnered a lot of favors from other prominent political figures," Hermione remarked. "So you do have a lot of strong allies."
"…Alright," Harry concluded with a half-nod. "It's not ideal, but I have complete faith in our Minister to make things worse. What else is there? What about the Acromantula attack?"
"Eet turns out you 'ave better instincts zhan I imagined," Fleur said. "Zhe Auror you would not shake handz wizh? Zhe same one who would not shake my 'and?"
"John Dawlish?" Harry asked and Fleur nodded.
She nodded before telling him, "Zhey've learned 'e was zhe perpetrator behind zhe attack."
"He covered his glove with a potion glaze that transferred a powerful lure on anyone who shook his hand," Hermione explained.
"What? Why? How?" Harry asked, wondering if the Dawlish in his timeline was ever exemplary in potions, or even had the intelligence necessary to formulate that plan.
"We don't know," Daphne answered. "They wouldn't tell any of us anything. They simply questioned him with veritaserum, then locked him away in Azkaban to await his trial."
Fleur commented, "Even my fazher does not know what was asked of zhe traitorous Auror."
Hermione continued to say, "They only told us about the potion glaze because Mr. Flamel and Professor Snape had to create a counter-potion and apply it to everyone who touched his gloved hands. It turns out, he shook hands with thirteen people in total."
"And all the Acromantula?" Harry asked, finally understanding why the beasts were so fixated on Hermione among the others.
"Once they sorted that death lure, all the wizard-killers left the castle," Draco stated. "Well, all the ones that survived. They're crediting you with a staggering hundred and seven slayings. Witch Weekly dubbed you The Eight Eye Assassin or Eight Eyes for short."
"He's really racking up the titles," Tracey joked with Draco.
"And they didn't tell you anything at all about Dawlish?" Harry asked them. "There has to be a reason why he'd do this. I can't imagine he did this on his own, and even if he did, to what end?"
"Even Sirius wouldn't tell me anything," Tracey offered. "They're keeping this strictly need to know. It's that sensitive."
Harry sighed before shifting his weight to get out of bed, and asked, "Anything else I should know?"
More worried about him, the concerned girl asked, "What are you doing? You need to rest."
"Flitwick wants to see you as soon as possible," Draco answered unconcerned about Harry's health. "And he's not the only one. Dumbledore wants to be alerted the moment you're awake."
"Oh that self-righteous narcissist is going to see me alright," Harry threatened as he gets to his feet. Harry was wearing a black, long sleeve, thermal top, and black pajama bottoms as he got out of bed. He tested his wand retraction from his holster. Satisfied, he slipped his white wand back, though one look at Hermione, and Harry had to reassure her, "Hermione, I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry. After a week-long nap, I could do with a bit of moving around."
"Professor Perenelle says the mind requires more rest than the body after magical exhaustion of that level," Hermione implored as Harry walked back and forth in the room, stretching and rotating his limbs. "You may have woken up, but that doesn't mean that you're at a hundred percent yet."
"I'll take it easy," Harry told her. "I'll just keep it light for now."
Hermione seemed reluctantly pacified and added, "Just don't overexert yourself."
"I won't," he assured her before asking Draco, "was there someone with him at all times?" At his confused silver eyes, Harry clarified. "Was someone with Dumbledore whenever he'd come to see if I was awake?"
"He hasn't seen you, actually," Draco answered.
"What?" Harry responded, surprised to hear as much.
"The Flamels insisted on moving you into their flat by the second day," Daphne explained to Harry. "Then put the room under the Fidelius Charm. They only told us, and Luna Lovegood the secret of its location, so the headmaster hasn't seen you. More to the point, Professor Flamel won't allow it. She's very angry with Dumbledore."
"Zhey bozh are," Fleur chimed in. "Zhe immortal Alchemist still refuses to speak wizh 'im."
"By the way you're in the Flamels living quarters, on the first floor, at the end of corridor four in Hogwarts," Hermione shared the magical secret with him, so he'd know where to return whenever he needed to.
"That article didn't help," Tracey pointed out with a smirk. At Harry's look, Tracey said, "Rita Skeeter wrote an article about you and the Headmaster. Apparently, she has a source that claims the Flamel heir has been under constant threat in Hogwarts and Dumbledore refuses to safeguard you from any harm, despite Professor Flamel's urging. With everything going on people are starting to wonder if Hogwarts is actually safe under Dumbledore's care."
Harry could say from experience that if anything could get by Dumbledore, it would. "Good," Harry voiced. "Anything else?"
Draco continues, "Well, nobody outside of this room knows you're a Parselmouth, so there's a plus."
"As I was not zhere, I still find zhat so difficult to believe," Fleur stated. "I 'ave been most curious to know more since I 'eard."
She eyed him eagerly for an explanation. Harry looked around the room, and aside from Draco, they all seemed eager to know more. Not surprisingly, they seemed to have a lot of questions for him that were forced to postpone until he woke up.
"There's nothing much to know, really," Harry down played. "I've been able to speak to snakes for a long time."
"Does that mean you're a descendant of Salazar Slytherin?" Daphne asked before Tracey quickly added, "and why didn't you tell anybody?"
"I'm not much of a sharer, Tracey. And no, I'm not his descendant," Harry answered. "I can just speak to them, is all. Though that reminds me. I suppose, no one's been able to see Nāga."
"Nāga," Fleur repeated curiously. "I like zhat name. Eet ees cute!"
"How did you even find the Chamber of Secrets, and how did you find a basilisk let alone put it in the chamber?" Daphne asked, more than likely having learned about it from Hermione. "They're incredibly rare," she continued. "To the point where one hasn't been seen in decades! I just don't understand so much."
Everyone looked at him once again, expecting a response. Despite his reluctance to involve them further in his dangerous world, he realized that sharing some information with them was the logical course of action. As he looked into their eyes, he could see that not a single one of them regretted being by his side, even after the dangers they had faced the previous week. If they were going to stay, it was important for them to be fully aware of the situation as necessity dictated.
"Draco told me about what happened to you, second year," Harry started, looking at Hermione. "You and all the other petrified students. While that fact was important, what was really key to discovering the Chamber was the death of the roosters."
"Roosters?" Tracey repeated skeptically.
Nodding, Harry continued, "Professor Hagrid's roosters were killed, which reminded me about something Nicolas and Perenelle once told me. Salazar Slytherin had a magical room in Hogwarts where he kept his pet Basilisk when it wasn't hunting in the forest. And a Basilisk's mortal weakness is the crow of a rooster—not that it kills them outright, mind you. It's a substantial weakness, but not an instant kill like many believe. Asking around, I eventually came across Myrtle Warren, more commonly known as Moaning Myrtle."
Hermione's eyes widened at the name and Harry gave her the briefest of concerned look, before she asked, "What about Myrtle?"
"In the 1940s, she was killed in the girls' second-floor bathroom by a Basilisk," Harry continued explaining. "The reason she died back then, and the others recently were only petrified, is because she was the only one who saw directly into its eyes. I'd imagine it would've been the same if you and the others had direct eye contact as well, but I assume they all only saw the killer eyes obscured or through some form of reflection; not head on basically."
"That's what that yellow was?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "I was walking back from the library, saw yellow reflected on a puddle on the ground, and then nothing. I woke up in the infirmary by semester's end." Hermione was shocked and a little frightened at the thought, and voiced aloud, "I was almost killed by a Basilisk?"
"…Almost," Harry sympathetically answered. "It's why I wanted to investigate and make sure that didn't happen again, to anyone. Myrtle's bathroom just so happens to be the main entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and since I could already speak parseltongue, I went down there, and killed Slytherin's Basilisk."
"You killed a Basilisk?" Daphne asked aghast. "By yourself?"
"No," Harry answered. "Nova was a big help. Draco did stuff too," he lamely added. Tracey immediately whipped her head to eye Draco in such an adoring way that he failed to mention he stayed as far away as possible. Harry continued, "What I didn't know was that Slytherin's Basilisk was pregnant or had given birth, or whatever, but Nāga imprinted on me, so it thinks I'm its-"
"Daddy?" Fleur asked more seductively than the room was ready for. Everyone eyed her toilsome sex appeal—even with the simplest of things—but all of Fleur's attention was on Harry.
"…Master," Harry eventually corrected, though Fleur seemed even happier with the correction. After a cough, he turned away and added, "Which is still just as bad."
"Will you see Nāga?" Fleur asked.
"Eventually, yeah," he answered.
"Can we see 'im too?" Fleur continued her query.
"…I guess?" he awkwardly answered. "Let me make sure Nāga's fine to see others first. For now, I need to talk with Nicolas and Perenelle. Where are they?"
"Mr. Flamel is meeting with the head of the DMLE at the moment," Hermione began answering him. "But I can't say for how long. Professor Flamel is in a teachers meeting, but I've just remembered she wants to know the second you're awake. I suppose I'll go get her."
Harry countered, "Actually, have her meet me at Hogwart's entrance instead. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"I'm sure she's not going to like that," Hermione replied with absolute certainty.
"I know," Harry responded before looking to the rest. They all gathered for him, because they were worried. Though nervous, he couldn't help but say, "Um, thank you, all of you, for coming to see me. It means more than I can say. I uh, need to make sure Nāga is okay, so I'll see you all at lunch?"
"Do we have to sit at the Ravenclaw table?" Tracey asked, looking sick at the thought of betraying her house so openly.
"I do not see why tables 'ave so much sway een 'Ogwarts," Fleur stated in bewilderment. "Zhey are nozhing more zhan simple tables. Een Beauxbaton students are free to sit where ever zhey like."
"Draco," Harry called as he takes clothes into the bathroom. "Twenty minutes, front entrance."
"What? Why me?" Draco demanded as Harry closed the bathroom door. "Groupie's are perfect for doing your bidding."
"We are not groupies!" Hermione declared to the silver-blond. "I'll see you at lunch," she called to Harry before exiting the room and the Flamel's quarters.
"I zhink I will go wizh 'er," Fleur said to the group. "Au Revoir, Arez."
Dressed in comfortable black slacks and a thick, grey wool turtleneck, Harry exited the Flamel quarters with Nova perched on his shoulder. As he walked through the halls of Hogwarts, the spare students traversing the corridors immediately recognized him. Disillusioning himself crossed his mind, but with Nova still visible on his shoulder, it would defeat the purpose. Ignoring the onlookers, he made his way to the long bridge behind the school.
Despite a few groups of younger students following him, Harry reached the midway point of the bridge and hopped over the guardrail, free-falling for two seconds before slowing his momentum and landing on a particularly large boulder below. Scanning the rocky cliff, he started searching for a large cavernous entrance. In the Chamber of Secrets, he had discovered a back opening, thrice his height, past the main showroom, which allowed Slytherin's Basilisk to exit freely, likely to hunt in the forest. Recalling an oddly formed rock, he easily found the entrance into the chamber.
Standing in front of a large boulder with a small snake insignia, Harry hissed, ~Open~
The large boulder shrunk to the size of a pebble, allowing Harry to enter the portal. Five minutes later, he was in the chamber and called out to Nāga. Relief flooded his system as he saw his large snake slithering toward him with frightening speed.
~Master!~ The large serpent hissed. ~Master! Master! Master!~
It had already coiled Harry in a fierce two-coil wrap, squeezing him incredibly tight. When Harry realized Nova couldn't flame him to safety, he called out, ~Nāga!~ Putting all his heightened strength into resisting the bone-crushing hug, Harry felt the Basilisk's large head affectionately nuzzling against him. Nova gripped the large snake's tail and slowly started lifting their entire weight in the air. Without the snake's leverage of the ground, Harry found it easier to escape the strong grip. After checking to be absolutely certain his Basilisk was fine and praising him for his amazing efforts, Harry headed to the rear portal, telling his snake, ~I'll bring you food later.~
Once outside, Harry flattened a nearby rock into a round platform using transfiguration. Standing on the rock platform, Harry slowly levitated himself until he felt confident he wouldn't tip over, and then quickly made his way high in the sky. Wings spread wide and beautiful, Nova flew beside a crouched Harry as he took the overhead shortcut to the front entrance of the castle. Waiting for him were a very upset-looking Perenelle, accompanied by a disgruntled Draco, a smiling Fleur, a serene Hermione, and to his surprise, Lily and Hardwin Potter were also waiting with them.
Despite the crowd of people, including his blood family, Harry was more concerned with the bludgeoning words Perenelle would likely use on him, in front of everyone. He realized he might be in for another lecture when he didn't find a single new scar on his body while he was changing. The absence of notes could only mean there was a stern talking-to in his future. Harry knew it was only out of worry and not malice, but it still made him anxious to expect it.
"Maybe I should show her I'm fine," he suggested to Nova. "So she can see there's nothing to worry about."
Nova turned away without so much as a caw. Still, Harry stepped off the rock disc. The blaring cold wind enveloped him as he sped straight to the ground until he slowed his momentum just enough to touch down in front of them without much strain. Nova landed on his shoulder with a few flaps of her strong wings as Harry canceled the levitation charm and transfiguration on the floating disk, and it fell to the ground, slamming into the dirt with a hard thud.
"Hey," Harry cautiously said to Perenelle, but her displeasure wasn't quelled by his good health in his entrance or presence. He looked to the others for a moment before he continued, "Thanks for looking after me... again." Seemingly still upset, Harry added as a side anecdote, "I've just checked on Nāga, and he's doing fine too."
"What's a Nāga?" Hardwin insistently asked, to which Draco answered, "just a small pet snake." Hardwin rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Slytherins."
Perenelle took a step towards Harry, and for the briefest of seconds, his instincts prepared for an attack. Ignoring that reaction, he allowed her to wrap him in her arms for a warm and fiercely caring hug. One hand placed on the back of his head, the other wrapped under his arm around his, Perenelle held him with familial comfort. It wasn't difficult in any way to feel her relief, concern, and overall tender affection in her embrace, and that made him nervous in his rigid, strained tenseness. People caring for him was one thing, but the physical expression of it was just jarring. He couldn't trust it. Too many people who cared for him didn't make it. In a very real way, he was dooming her by allowing this, and he couldn't feel responsible for more pain and misery.
"You bloody scared me half to death," Perenelle stated. "That Trouble Star nickname is supposed to be ironic; not prophetic."
Harry let out a long breath that he didn't know he had held in. Maybe things didn't have to go as he expected, he wondered from some unexplored place in his mind. He had more going for him than he did in his timeline, and though events that had come to pass were certainly different, he was far more determined to end the dark parasite than he had ever felt. In his previous timeline, being the one to end Voldemort for everyone's sake felt like an act of divine providence. Now it physically hurt him to know that the parasite was still out there, and until he ended him, he would never know peace.
Harry slowly raised a left palm and patted Perenelle's back awkwardly, then held it there. This was the last chance for the life-embracing him, for the few watching, for everyone else, and for himself. He promised himself he'd kill Voldemort or die trying, as he took a step back after Perenelle let go.
"What are you doing out of bed?" she couldn't help but ask.
"I feel fine, really," Harry assured her.
Perenelle shook her head in light frustration as she said, "Well, I might as well check you over."
Lily nudged Hardwin to step forward. The Potter heir seemed very reluctant to step up to Harry as Perenelle, checking him over, asked Harry, "Why do you have bruising and microfractures on your bones already? I looked you over before I left, and those weren't there."
Harry looked at her as if willing her to remember his large overexcited pet Basilisk when Hardwin coughed to get his attention. He said, "Mum says we don't have to do honor debts this time since the Ministry's Aristocratic Commission, as well as the Noble Ancient's Society, consider the effort to rescue lives that day as a group effort. And though it's not required by the usual standards, she still reckons I oughta thank you. So, you know… thanks."
"Making friends with a Slytherin now?" Harry heard a familiar voice shout out before turning to see Ron, Ginny, and Bill walking toward the castle's entrance. Ron still seemed angry, not that it was a surprise to Harry as the Ron from his timeline hadn't seen sense until after Harry had almost died facing a dragon in the first task.
"We're not friends, you wanker!" an irate Hardwin called, immediately followed by a stern, "Hardwin!" from Lily.
"Hope you two'll be happy together picking out matching bracelets," Ron spout before leaving them. Ginny shook her head at her brother's animosity before turning to Hardwin and saying, "You know he doesn't mean it, right? Don't worry, he'll come around and see he's just being a royal prat."
Bill apologized to Lily who just waved it away as if his apology was unnecessary. The handsome redhead then turned to Fleur and extended his hand. With a suave smile, he confidently said, "Hi, we haven't met, but I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Bill Weasley."
Fleur happily shook his hand, replying, "Fleur Delacour. Pleasure."
Harry allowed his mind to wonder about how content he was that they had met again in this timeline, and oddly enough, found that he wasn't quite as content as he thought he might be. He should be thrilled—over the moon, really—but he wasn't, and that bothered him more than they bothered him.
"Well, aside from Nāga doing a number on you, you're fine," Perenelle stated.
"That's a relief," Lily said stepping close to Harry—too close for his comfort. "I'm sure a lot of people will be happy to hear that. Perenelle reassured us you were just resting but it's better to see in person."
"Agreed," Bill said. "On behalf of my family, thank you." The charming redhead extended his hand and Harry shook it.
"Uh, thank you, Professor," Harry said courteously. "And… Bill, right?"
With his nod, Bill returned to Fleur and Harry turned to Perenelle, stating, "I don't know if I need permission to go to Hogsmeade, or not."
"I don't know either but it's fine by me," Perenelle easily replied. "What's on your mind?"
"Shopping," Harry answered. "Long overdue shopping."
"Magnifique!" Fleur exclaimed. "I must go wizh you! Shopping jus soundz so soothing to zhe soul, neh, 'Ermionee? You will come as well, yes?"
"Well, I planned on spending a few hours before lunch in the library..." Hermione responded to Fleur as Perenelle told Harry, "I'd walk you, but I have to head back for a meeting with Dumbledore. He'd like you to see him as soon as possible, but currently, I don't care for anything he wants... not after that stunt he pulled with Nova."
"That's not sitting well with me, at all," Harry said, downplaying his anger at handicapping his familiar.
Meanwhile, Hermione was trying to explain to Fleur that she didn't really do shopping. Harry hadn't planned on anyone but Draco and himself going, but he was fine with Fleur and Hermione tagging along. It would make things easier anyway, thus he stated, "You should come, Hermione. Just this once."
Hermione looked at him a moment before nodding her head, saying, "Just this once."
"Lily, I don't know if you have any plans but I still have a meeting with Dumbledore," Perenelle explained. "Would you be a dear and have an Auror meet them at the front gate?" At Harry's questioning brow, Perenelle answered, "New policy. More aurors on the grounds, and any group expecting to leave the castle need chaperons."
"That won't be necessary," Lily cheerfully replied. "I can watch them while they shop. I was actually heading into the village today, so it works out. We can even have lunch in the Three Broomsticks if you'd all like," she tolds the group.
"Oh, that wouldn't get in the way of your affairs, would it?" Perenelle asked, despite the concerned rising of Harry's eyebrows.
"Not at all," Lily responded, waving away her concern. "It'll be fun, won't it Hardwin?" Hardwin whirled on his terse mother and the looked into her sharp green eyes: they easily communicated that he has no choice.
This was far more than Harry was comfortable with, and to his frustration, Perenelle didn't seem to mind one bit. "Wonderful," Perenelle said. "Thank you."
"I feel you might need another chaperon to watch after this lot, Mrs. Potter," Bill told Lily, stepping forward, with an affable smirk. Turning to Fleur, he said. "In case we need to split up."
"Oh Godric, why am I even here?" Draco asked impatiently.
"Yes, please Malfoy. Make my life easier and leave," Hardwin quickly responded before Lily warned her son with a stern, "Hardwin."
"Draco," Harry called, not wanting to witness another piss match between the two. He tilted his head toward the school's main gate, as if to say, 'let's go.' As Draco moved past Hardwin, he hotly returned, "Don't forget to hold mummy's hand before you cross the street Pottykins."
The group made their way down the trail to the gate, and beyond that, to Hogsmeade. Harry was in the lead with Nova on his shoulder, and Draco beside him, Hermione and Fleur followed behind them, and making up the rear were Hardwin, Lily, and Bill.
As they walked, Harry told Draco, "When we split up, we'll talk."
Draco simply nodded, and in a little over half an hour, they all entered the all-wizard village. They drew quite a bit of attention when other students noticed Harry or this timeline's Boy-Who-Lived. The adults noticed a phoenix on a boy's shoulder—essentially the subject of what had been all over the Prophet the entire week, now standing in front of them. Harry heard a few, 'Eight Eyes,' or, 'The Green Reaper,' or, 'The Flamel Heir,' whispered throughout the crowd.
Harry spotted the pairs of patrolling Aurors and noticed how young they were. Likely new recruits, Harry reasoned as Lily called, "Okay, everyone," gathering everyone's attention. "So where do we all want to go first?"
"Witches Wears and Wardrobe." Fleur quickly called from beside Hermione. "O'wever, I will need differing opinions on zhe wears I model," she added, hands clasped behind her, twisting her body seductively in excitement as she looked around at the mostly male group.
"I can take a look," Hardwin said, looking at Fleur before turning to everyone and hastily adding, "to-to see if I need anything new to wear."
Bill played it cool while Hardwin and Draco were pink in the cheeks and clearly interested. "I need to go to the Quidditch shop," Harry said, smacking Draco in the arm to pay proper attention.
"Perhaps we should split up after all," Lily stated, eyeing Hardwin suspiciously. Humored by Hardwin, Bill winked an inside joke at Fleur, who smiled in understanding. "Girls with me. Boys go with Bill and gaze lovingly upon your broomsticks as if nothing else exists. Hardwin-"
"I know, I know," he quickly interjected. "I won't buy anything."
Walking towards the Hogsmeade's Quality Quidditch Supplies, sister store of the one in Diagon Alley's—complete with huddled students ogling the Firebolt display—Harry asked Draco, "You reckon you can handle a Firebolt?"
"Reckon I can fly it better than you," Draco cockily returned.
"We'll see," Harry remarked as the group entered the shop. The shop attendant was immediately amazed by the Phoenix on Harry's shoulder before spotting the rest of the party—Hardwin Potter in particular.
"Merlin's beard, what a joyous day!" he beamed. "First a Bulgarian Quidditch superstar and now the Hardwin Potter!" The elderly attendant gasped as he rushed over to Hardwin. "It is my greatest honor to be at your service. What may I interest you in today?"
"Hello," Hardwin returned with a winning smile, feeling at home with the praise. "Not at the moment thank you. We're just looking around a bit, but if I see something I need to have, I'll let you know."
Harry rolled his eyes, moved toward the counter, and waited for the attending to stop fawning over Hardwin. After a few minutes of the clerk asking about Hardwin's favorite team, Draco snapped, loudly calling out, "While it pains me to my second-rate soul to snatch you away from a boy who did magic he can't even remember doing, would you mind terribly being a professional for a minute to customers who don't need their mummy's permission to pay for things?! I promise you can worship his feet later."
All eyes were on a huffing Draco, stunned by his outburst. Harry tilted his head, looking at Draco cockeyed, as if to ask, 'What is the matter with you?' A frustrated Draco shrugged, and after a calming exhale, said, "Old habits…"
The elderly attending held his tongue from what was sure to be a very negative response as he moved over to the counter. "How may I help you?" he asked in a clipped tone.
Harry huffed before answering, "I'd like to purchase two Firebolts and five Nimbus 2000's, along with maintenance kits for each." The older man's eyes widened like saucers at the request. "I'm not sure how long it'll take you to organize that but I'd like it as soon as possible, please. In an hour or less, if you can manage."
"That's going to cost a bloody fortune!" Hardwin yelled. "Your mum'll never let you buy all that!"
"My word," the older man let slip alongside a gasp. "Young man, I can not impress upon you how high such a sum of galleons that is. I simply can not arrange so much valuable merchandise if you do not have the funds to procure them."
Harry's Flamel heir ring appeared on his hand, allowing the elderly man to see the official seal of the House Flamel surrounded by the insignia representing of a Noble and Most Ancient House. He said, "Please write a receipt now so I can stamp it."
"Very good, sir! Right away, sir!" he hopped to say, completely forgetting about Hardwin Potter and Draco's impatient outburst. "I'll need to have both the Firebolts floo'ed here, but I'll have everything ready for you within the hour." Hardwin looked over to the Firebolt displayed in the shop's large window, and the attending stated, "That's for display purposes only. It doesn't even fly."
After the attending left, Harry pondered about necklaces or bracelets when an astounded Bill asked him, "Why do you need so many brooms? The two Firebolts alone will cost a small fortune."
"I don't want to be caught unaware again," Harry easily answered, turning to exit the shop. As they exit the business, Harry asked the group, though primarily Draco, "Where can you buy necklaces or bracelets?"
"Witches Wears and Wardrobe," Hardwin immediately answered.
After an annoyed exhale, Harry asked, "Anywhere else?"
"They do have some good stuff there," Bill interjected. "I buy stuff for my mum there all the time," the redhead added, making it clear to Harry why they want to go there. He reluctantly nodded, and soon the group of young men were walking into the rose-scented wardrobe shop. Harry and Draco moved toward the jewelry section while Hardwin and Bill left to locate the ladies.
"What are you looking for?" Draco asked.
"Something to hang the brooms on," Harry answered. "I'm thinking a bracelet would be better since it'll be closer to their hands. Which bracelet do you think Daphne would like?"
"Are you seriously asking me for advice on jewelry for a girl?" Draco asked in disbelief. "You- YOU! Bloody hell, how the fuck is this the world we live in now? Where you're asking me for jewelry advice for one your tarts?"
"I hear you call her, or any of them, a tart again, I'm going to make you feed Nāga from now on," Harry calmly answered back. "And you don't think I know how weird this shite is, but you're literally my only option—which works out because you're so posh. I imagine you know more about this than I do."
"You're acting like there's some complex mystery behind it," Draco replieed with a sigh. "Just get the most expensive one. That's literally all I do."
Looking at him in disbelief, Harry asked, "You want me to buy Tracey's too?"
"…No," Draco stated. "You already got her a Nimbus. I'll get this."
Looking at the selection, Harry continued to ask, "And which do you think you'll get for her?"
"Hmm… Not sure," Draco answered, taking a critical look at all the bracelets. "She's very conservative—really adheres to traditional values—but she initially grew up in the muggle world so..."
Draco turned back to Harry, who was shaking his head, vocalizing his challenge, "Just get the most expensive one, huh?"
"Arez!" Fleur called, drawing both of their attention. "What do you zhink?" she asked, spinning slowly, showcasing her sensuous figure in a floral patterned, lace and silk sleeveless dress with a flaring hem that stopped a few inches above her knees, paired with red high heel shoes. Taking her full hour-glass figure in, and all her points of beauty at the same time, made Harry doubt she was even real. The way her beautiful silk blond hair cascaded over her creamy shoulders and her deep blue eyes stared into him, it was undeniable how amazingly attractive she was. "Be 'onest," she nervously requested.
"I uh," Harry saved his dry throat by swallowing some saliva. "I think you look amazing."
Fleur smiled coyly at Harry before skipping away as he called out, "Wait-"
"She didn't even ask me for my opinion," Draco pointed out.
"I'm sure she would've if your jaw wasn't hanging," Harry stated. "…By the way, I said we, uh need to talk later… but I didn't say neither of us is going to like it…"
"Talk about what? Draco curiously asked.
"Something way out of my depth," was all Harry said.
Draco looked at him suspiciously as Fleur returned with a sexy selection hanging from each hand. "Which would you prefer to see me in next?" she asked.
"Actually," Harry started. "I need you and Hermione for a second, please. Can you bring her over?"
Fleur nodded and ran back into the unplottable isles of witches' wardrobes and their accessories, before returning with Hermione a few minutes later. Hermione seemed nervous and slightly more like his Hermione than before. "Your teeth," Harry observed, looking at Hermione and thinking of fonder memories. "They're shorter," he said with a small melancholy-like smile.
"Uwahh!" Fleur wowed. "'E noticed right away, non?"
"Y-Yes," the slightly nervous Hermione said to both Harry and Fleur. "Professor Potter did it for me with the tooth shrinking charm. I've… always wanted to, I just never did. It must look odd, I imagine."
"No," Harry easily refuted. "I don't think it looks odd at all. It really suits you."
"Doesn't it?" Lily said, coming from behind with Hardwin and Bill. "I was going to help just a tad with her hair but it seems resistant to all my styling charms."
"It's okay, professor," Hermione told Lily. "Thank you for trying, but I've attempted everything I could research and nothing seems to work."
"Perenelle has a special remedy she has me use," Harry informed her. "My hair would be a puffed up mop without it so, I can get you some if you like."
Slightly taken and snapping a quick glance at his slick-back hair in a top knot, Hermione nodded with a smile as Fleur asked, What was eet you wanted wizh us?"
"I wanted to get you both bracelets, but I'd prefer it if you wore something you like, so," Harry casually said before nodding at the selection. While the girls seemed taken aback, Lily smiled knowingly, Hardwin rolled his eyes, and Bill moved over to the counter to take a look at the items.
"A gift?" Fleur asked excitedly. "I'm certain I'll like anyzhing you pick for me."
"Does this have something to do with the broomsticks you purchased?" Bill asked curiously.
"What broomsticks?" Hermione asked Bill, before turning to Harry.
"I don't know how I'm going to explain that to Perenelle," Lily glumly remarked, conveying to Harry that Bill must've told her. "Can you at least tell me why you spent a small fortune on racing broomsticks so I don't come up short when she asks—which I'm sure she will."
"As I said, I don't want to be caught off guard again," Harry reiterated. "If I had a broom when that impostor escaped Hogwarts, I would've caught him. If I had a broom when the Acromantula attacked, everything would've been easier. I won't let there be a third time." He turned to Fleur and Hermione and said, "So, I want you both to pick a bracelet to wear. I bought you brooms you'll shrink and attach to the bracelet."
"Wicked," Hardwin extolled. "So you can always keep your broomstick with you! Mum?"
"'Mum,' what?" Lily asked her excited son. "Practical it may be, but I can't see you resisting the urge to fly through the halls. No."
"It's not that I don't like quidditch," Hermione stated. "I'm just not a very good flier."
"Then get good," Harry told her in all seriousness. "This isn't for fun and games. This is for last week and the other time before that. I want you both to have options available to protect yourselves from the very real possibility when I can't be there to save you."
That seemed to register with them as they looked over the various options. As they chose their bracelets, Harry told the attendant to bill everything Fleur and Hermione wanted to house Flamel and stamped the blank receipt with his house ring. Harry then told Lily and Bill, "I just have a few more things to get. Draco and I will be fine on our own."
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that, young man," Lily said, "Bill will go with you."
Harry just nodded and Draco, Hardwin, Bill, and himself exited the shop. They wandered around the other shops as Harry kept an eye out for bottles of hot sauce for Perenelle and any phonograph cylinders for Nicolas' phonograph. When they picked up the brooms, Harry gave Draco his Firebolt—to Hardwin's extreme envy—then shrank the rest before attaching his own Firebolt to his chain around his neck. Harry explained to a curious Hardwin that while a broom is inactive, they can be manipulated by magic, unlike the moment they become active and the runes render all forms of tampering useless. Heading to the Three Broomsticks with a new bottle of hot sauce—that actually recommended diluting it before consumption—for Perenelle, but without a cylinder for Nicolas' phonograph, Bill asked Harry, "Spare a minute?"
Draco paused to stay, but Harry shook his head, saying it was fine, and the silver-blonde and Hardwin entered the popular inn and pub.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked.
"Bill, please," the eldest Weasley insisted. "Don't you think it would better if you didn't remind your classmate and Ms. Delacour of the horrible experience they went through last week? They're not like us. Women are more delicate than men, so you have to remember to treat them that way."
Of all the things Harry assumed Bill would talk to him about, this was not one of them. "You think I want them to go through that horror," Harry asked dubiously. "You try convincing them they'd be happier in a world that's all sunshine and rainbows, because I tried and they won't. I don't want them to get hurt, but I'm all out of ideas."
"I know you don't want them getting hurt," Bill returned. "That's not what I mean. It's just- surely you can see buying them their broomsticks will always remind them that they're not safe, because in their minds that broom is a symbol of a possible future threat. That's not a healthy mentality to have for young women."
"...I don't know what you want me to say here," Harry stated, looking very confused. "That stuff I bought is for emergencies and nothing more. I'd rather they have it and never need it, then to need it and not have it."
"Listen," Bill began again. "The crisis is over, and everything is fine now. When you give them expensive gifts for the sole purpose of avoiding death, you just remind them, all over again, of how close they were, and will always be, to death. It's like you're trapping their mind in that time. It's unhealthy and it just seems like you don't understand that. I know you meant well, but it's insensitive to what they went through."
With no response, Bill made his way into the pub, and Harry automatically followed, stunned by Bill's thoughts on Harry's pragmatic insurance plan. Walking into the rowdy pub, many eyes landed on Nova, but Harry ignored it as Bill's remarks incessantly go round and round in his head. Learning everyone was in the private room for lunch, it wasn't until the two were about to enter the private room that Harry grabbed Bill by the elbow and pulled him back with more strength than he intended to use. Bill looked curiously at a very serious Harry.
"Insensitive or not," Harry began. "I won't ever regret giving them any tool that helps them; be it a simple hair styling potion, or as life preserving as a broomstick."
They stared at each other intensely, firm in their stances, but without hostile aggression, when a familiar voice called out, "Bill!"
They turned to the source of the call, and Harry was gutted to see one of the best professors he'd ever had in the flesh not five steps away from them. Remus Lupin, haggard and tired in his overall appearance, but positively upbeat in his mustached smile. Remus spotted the tenseness between Bill and Harry, before his eyes landed hard on Harry, reading him like an old and cherished book.
"My," Remus said, looking directly at Harry. "It's as if I know you."
I had to ask a lot of the girls in my orbit what they talk about among themselves. It seemed to revolve around gripes and boys so, I figured the girls would talk about Ares among their general concerns.
I realized that I could've just had a sentence or paragraph of Harry buying the broomsticks and be done with it, but this is all building to an idea that I have for much later in the story. So I know story-wise, it's a little fatty, but I think it'll be worth it for the muscle it builds later on.
This was a dialogue heavy chapter so I loved agonizing over every word! As always, I'd love to know what you think. Have a great one and to the fans who have served, Happy Memorial Day.