"Now back to the Horcruxes and your scar. That night, the little piece of soul that remained in Tom's body got into you. There's a piece of Voldemort in your aura. No, you can't cut out bone, skin, or the whole skull," anticipating Harry's question, Dumbledore said, "you are a living person with an aura, and the Horcrux has contacted it. The good news is that it's sort of 'asleep'. Your scar almost never hurts, you haven't had any strange visions. Oh, and chances are, if it was active, most of your normal and mental magic went into containing it."
"So I'd be ... the one you were designing that whole plan under?" asked Harry neutrally.
"Yes. The thing is, with an active Horcrux, you wouldn't be able to live much longer. The only way I know of to get rid of it is to set yourself up for the avada of the owner of the rest of your soul. My plan was very delicately constructed, you would eventually, after destroying all the Horcruxes, fall under his avada and the Horcrux would die. Yes, you would have been morally underdeveloped for your age. Yes, your education would have wished for better too. But you'd be alive, and then you'd have plenty of time to catch up on all the backlog anyway. True, if you thought about it a bit afterward, you'd probably come to the conclusion that I'm a scary manipulator, but I really don't see any other option."
"How many Horcruxes did he create?" muttered Harry thoughtfully.
"I don't know. More than three, I think."
They fell silent. Fleur was mulling over everything she had learned. Harry thought it was a good thing he hadn't awakened the Horcrux, it had been very easy to do so in his early childhood, certain types of accidental magic could have awakened it. Let's just say transgression is quite suitable. Dumbledore waited.
"So what are we going to do now?" after a moment of thought, Potter asked.
"Well... a sleeping Horcrux isn't critical for the next ten years, really. After that, all sorts of things can happen. There are very few cases of a Horcrux in a living person, and here it's also a somewhat unusual situation, so I can't predict what might happen. But it's unlikely to be anything good."
Fleur, who had tears streaming from her eyes, quickly ran over to Harry and, unashamed of the Headmaster, sat down on her boyfriend's lap and snuggled into his shoulder.
Harry on the other hand just closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he hugged Fleur.
"Don't despair, we have the Black library at our disposal now, and there we may well find another solution to the problem," Dumbledore said quietly and a little guiltily, "Alright, I guess I should be going."
Harry and Fleur just sat there, supporting each other. The news had the effect of a whipping slap.
The champions had to go up to the Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock tonight. This was announced during lunch in the great hall. Honestly, all our couple wanted to do was to further snuggle together to calm down, but they realized that they were likely to be told important things there.
At half past nine they went to the agreed place. This time, to Fleur's surprise, Harry himself took her hand. Apparently, the boy really needed support from the only person in the world he trusted with his feelings.
Cedric Diggory caught up with them in the hall, he too was on his way to the grounds.
They walked out of the castle doors together. The evening was overcast.
"What do you think the third challenge will be?" asked Cedric to Harry as they began to descend the stone stairs.
"The third task is traditionally the search for the cup," replied Harry neutrally. Frankly, he was beginning to think of Cedric as his... well... buddy.
"Personally, I think it will be a search in the underground passages... Ou pas?" said Fleur.
They walked across the dark lawn to the stadium and entered through an archway in the stands. Cedric saw the pitch and stopped like a dumbfounded man.
"What have you done to her?" he exclaimed indignantly.
The Quidditch pitch had always been flat and smooth, but now it was lined with long low walls that went in all directions and crossed each other.
"Hey, come here! - Ludo Bagman cheerfully called out to them.
"Well, what do you say?" asked Bagman. "Is it growing nicely? It'll be thirty feet tall in a month. Good for Hagrid, he's the one who planted it. Nothing, nothing," he added, looking at Cedric's stretched face. "The tournament will be over and you'll get your Quidditch pitch back, don't worry. So, have you figured out what this is?
"Genre maze. Obviously," Fleur said arrogantly.
"That's right, a maze! So the third task is easy. The Cup of the Three Wizards will be placed in the center, whoever touches it first wins."
"You just have to go through the maze?" marveled Krum.
"There'll be obstacles," Bagman rubbed his hands together, rocking back on his heels. "Hagrid will have all sorts of magical creatures ready... and there will be spells too, you'll have to get around them too... well, that sort of thing... The first ones to enter the maze will be the ones with the most points." Bagman smiled at Harry and Cedric. "Then Mr. Krum. Then Ms. Delacour. Each of you will have a chance to win, it all depends on how you handle the obstacles. Isn't that great?"
Honestly, in light of recent events, Harry wanted to, just knock this False Bagman out now. He was starting to get annoyed that there was a... person walking in such close proximity to him who wanted to kill him. Fleur seemed to be having the same thoughts.
"Alright, if there's no questions then let's go to the castle, something's starting to get cold..."
And he hurried past Harry towards the stadium exit. Just before Harry could think to keep his distance, Krum took him by the shoulder.
"Can we talk?"
"I don't think so. We have nothing to talk about," Harry replied rather coldly. He didn't care about the Bulgarian champion.
"What's going on with you and Hermione?" decided Krum head-on. At the risk of threatening the young champion, he didn't dare. A demonstration with a dragon would impress anyone. He's also got a veela on his arm that could very well burn him.
"With who?" wondered Harry.
"Oh mon dieu, your ex-friend. How can you forget a name you're reminded of regularly?" poked him in the side by Fleur.
"А... What's my issue with her? I don't fully understand the point of the question. "
"A lot of people say you've been friends for the past three years... "
"Basically, she and I have nothing in common. I don't care about her at all."
" And you've never... there's never been... "
"I told you, there's nothing to do with her. And there never was. She thought I was her best friend and she was always dragging me around. Nothing more," Harry said a little irritated.
"She talks about you all the time, and those articles in the Prophet... "
"She's probably jealous that I'm taking the NEWT this year. I don't read the tabloids. Have a nice day."
With those words, he and Fleur were about to leave when a noise came from the bushes nearby:
"He... Help..." with those words, the apparently real Bagman came out, staggering a bit. The stray eyes, torn clothes, tattered gait and speech all indicated that he was post-imperius.
"I... In my place... Eater... H...elp."
Harry was a little relieved. Now it was possible to go and expose the False Bagman. So, having conjured a patronus in the form of, for some reason, some strange bird instead of the usual stag, he sent a message to Dumbledore:
"Headmaster, the real Bagman has just been discovered near the Quidditch pitch, I'll hold the impostor, fly over to his chambers in half an hour."
"Arry... can you tell me how long you've had that patronus?" looking a little dazedly at the bird, Fleur asked.
"I don't know. Had a deer at the end of third year. Didn't use it after that."
"Arry... this... this... we'll talk at home," the veela couldn't utter from the overabundance of feelings. She just pressed herself against Harry.
Krum was a little embarrassed. A lot of things had been said about this couple, and apparently all of them were garbage. They seemed incredibly cold when they spoke to him, but between them their voices took on a, albeit barely noticeable, tenderness.
"Right, well now I'm off to carry out what I told the Headmaster, and could you take the real Bagman to the Hospital Wing?" nodding goodbye to Kram, they walked to the castle. Fleur was still thinking about his patronus and Harry was setting himself up for a battle.
Which it wasn't.
When Harry flew into the judge's chambers, there was Dumbledore, Snape, and a bound False Bagman.
"I wanted to detain him," Harry said a little angrily.
"I don't think you should have. You need to digest the news, Harry," the Headmaster said seriously.
Snape cast a strange look at Dumbledore. He was talking so seriously to the little brat, and he was almost being coddled by him - the professor, the wizard, and his only agent in the enemy camp. And not just him. No one noticed it, but damn it, Snape had always been more observant than the rest of them. You couldn't really hurt a student without hitting him where it hurt.
