Nothing is mine.

The penultimate part of Cocytus's Cruelty... And to prove that I'm just making this up as I go, the chapter title should come as a complete and total surprise xD

Two For the Flames

Katie babbled into her bowl of sliced banana pieces, squishing them into mush with one sticky, fruit-smeared hand and the back of her chewed blue spoon.

'Are actually you going to eat any of that, little chick?' Fleur picked a small piece of squashed banana off the end of one of her daughter's silver curls and brushed them back behind her ear. 'Or are you just playing now?'

'Mamamama,' Katie gabbled, waving her banana-slathered spoon in the air.

'I think you are just making a mess, non?'

Her daughter dropped the spoon into her lap, peering at her fruit-covered fingers with curious green eyes.

'Yes, you are just happily making a huge mess.' Fleur's heart squirmed, flopping about in her chest as she bent and retrieved the blue spoon, kissing Katie on the top of the head. 'Hold still, baby bird.' She placed the spoon in the bowl and slid it away, vanishing the banana from her daughter's fingers and off her front with a flick of her wand.

Katie clutched for Fleur's hand with a small noise.

'You felt that in the magic?' Fleur lifted her from the chair into her arms and smiled as her daughter buried her face in the crook of Fleur's neck. 'You are just like your Auntie Gabby, little chick.'

But it is time for us to leave. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. And I don't want you to see Mithras, or feel his magic and think it's your papa. That monster would sacrifice you just to feel la folie once more.

Fleur hummed, lacing threads of magic into the melody, cupping Katie's head against her chest with one hand, swaying back and forth in time to the tune. Katie yawned, squirming about in Fleur's embrace; her green eyes slipped shut and her breathing grew steady and even.

'Sweet dreams, baby bird,' Fleur murmured, tidying everything away into the sink. 'You are not a dragon; that will keep you happily napping for several hours.'

She pulled a bright striped orange and green hat down over Katie's silver curls, and tugged up her little striped socks. There, almost ready. Fleur sat down with her daughter in her lap and eased Katie's feet into her shoes, tapping the laces with her wand and watching them twist into small neat bows, and disillusioning her daughter with a gentle touch of her wand. And now you are all wrapped up safe and warm, it is time to go.

Fleur fished the slim silver ring from her pocket and stared at the teal spiral. 'I suppose I might as well get one last use out of you.'

You saved our little girl, Gabby, mon amour. Now it is my turn. She slipped it onto her finger and cradled her snoozing daughter against her heart. And Fleur Delacour does not fail. Not this time. Never again.

Fleur disapparated, skipping through the Sunshine Room, Novimagus, and out onto the slim, steep steps up to the Waldkrone.

A long procession of wizards and witches shuffled up the steps ahead of her towards the burning peak.

She spied Présidente Desrosiers between the three blue-robed, golden-haired Duforts, and ducked behind the South American girl from Nurmengard and her tall, broad-shouldered father, trailing them up the steps and through the narrow, shadowed passage into the mountain.

Ravens clustered in the gnarled boughs, cawing and flapping their dark wings as they hopped along the bare oak branches overlooking the small clear lake and the floating stones above it. A hushed murmur of conversation rose from the packed benches ringing the ancient iron seat.

Mithras sat shackled upon it, a small sad smile upon his lips as he stared up at the sky.

You will be safe soon, baby bird. Fleur pulled the bright green and orange hat down to cover Katie's silver curls, drifting down the steps after a handful of Italians. When Mithras is gone, there will be nothing left for you to fear.

One of the ICW's white-robed aurors strode up the steps, reaching for his wand. 'Members of the public are not authorised—'

A slim blue-sleeved arm caught his elbow. 'Sarcelle is with the French delegation.' Isobel Dufort's grey eyes were soft and sad as summer rain clouds. 'Aren't you, sister?'

Fleur gave her a stiff nod.

The ICW auror glanced between them and stepped aside. 'Very well, captain.'

Celine and Colette drifted across to Isobel's shoulders as the last witches and wizards filtered past to their seats.

'Sister, what are you doing?' Colette asked. 'We are meant to be with Desrosiers.'

'So impatient,' Celine chided.

Three pairs of grey eyes dipped to the pair of rings upon Fleur's left hand, flicked to Mithras, and back to Fleur.

'Don't be reckless, sister,' Colette murmured.

'Did you come to rescue him?' Isobel asked. 'It cannot be done. I do not think he wants it to be done. He has not even tried to leave. Not once.'

'Non.' Fleur turned her nose up. 'I came to watch him die.'

They exchanged a swift sharp look.

'You don't want to see this,' Celine whispered. 'You should—'

'Take your daughter home.' Colette's grey eyes softened as her gaze drifted to Katie. 'She should not see this either.'

'She is sleeping.' Fleur settled her daughter against her shoulder. 'I cannot leave her by herself and I have to see he is gone for certain.'

'What if she wakes?' Isobel demanded. 'It is a monstrous thing to watch your own blood die.'

'I made sure she will not wake for several hours. I do not want her to see Mithras or feel any of his magic; she might think he is her papa.'

'Desrosiers is looking this way,' Celine said. 'We must go back before we draw attention, sisters.'

'It is about to start,' Isobel murmured. 'Poor Henri—'

'Harry Potter,' Colette said. 'Right, sister?'

'Yes.' Isobel's grey eyes sharpened. 'Harry Potter. Not Henri Dufort, who was your husband, Sarcelle, and our brother.'

'That is not him,' Fleur hissed. 'Harry was mine. He loved me like I was the sun. And he gave up the one perfect thing he had for our little girl. That thing down there is what crawled out afterward to play at being a hero and destroy everything Harry loved.'

Isobel's eyebrows drew down into a steep vee. 'I do—'

'Sister, not now,' Celine murmured. 'We must go back or Desrosiers will notice Sarcelle.'

Colette took Isobel's hand and drew her away.

'You should watch from the back.' Celine pointed up at the entrance. 'Desrosiers will not make a scene if she recognises you, not here, but Neville Longbottom…'

Will be a thorn in our side just as he has always been.

'Merci.' Fleur swept back up the steps and leant against the trunk of one of the oaks, ducking into the shadow of the branches.

Triya Shah stood up from the front bench and raised the iron-bound horn to her lips, blowing a deep eerie note.

The hum of conversation faded into silence.

'This, the two thousandth-and-eighty-second gathering of the International Cabal of Wychfolke, is now convened,' she called. 'We will bear witness to the death of Harry Potter for innumerable crimes committed against the magical world. Before we proceed, does anyone wish to raise a motion of any sort that pertains to this?'

A ripple of turning heads swept across the benches.

Triya Shah nodded. 'Very well. No motions. Harry Potter—' she turned to stare at Mithras '—in order to ensure that you are dead, we have elected to use an unconventional method of execution.' She snapped her fingers.

Two of the ICW aurors carried an iron square across and set it down before Harry's feet.

'We have borrowed this ancient and curious artefact from the British Department of Mysteries at the suggestion of Captain Longbottom; its original purpose has been lost to time, but once upon the stair, there is no way off it until you reach the bottom.' She bent, tapping it with her wand.

The square split open and a set of gleaming iron steps sank into the ground.

'You will walk down these,' Triya Shah ordered. 'There are seventeen steps, but nothing beyond them. Before you reach the bottom, we will carry out your sentence with Fiendfyre, to ensure nothing of your body remains and any magicks on your person are destroyed.'

The corner of Mithras's mouth twisted up. 'Fiendfyre.'

'You will feel no pain,' she said. 'The heat is such that you will be immolated instantly.'

That much is true. It does not hurt. Fleur held her breath as Mithras stood up; Sophonissa's words rose up from the memory of Kart Hadasht's shadowed sunken halls on wings of crimson fire. Two for the flames.

Triya Shah waved the horn at the pair of aurors. 'If you have any last words, Harry Potter, speak them now.'

Mithras's green eyes drifted across the benches and swept up to linger on Fleur.

He knows it is us. She held her breath, cradling Katie tight against her chest. He knows.

'I'm glad to know that it doesn't hurt.' He closed his eyes and raised his left hand in a rattle of chains. 'More glad than you can ever imagine.'

A soft, green stem snaked through Fleur's fingers, putting forth glossy dark leaves, budding and blossoming into a bright crimson rose; its red petals fluttered to the trembling beat of her heart.

Are you still in there somewhere, mon amour? Shrouded somewhere beneath the surface? Like I was within Vert's sea of secrets. Would you still come back to the light of such a cruel sun?

Mithras opened his eyes with a small soft smile. 'There is nothing left to fear, so I may as well just disappear. You all always did want me gone when you thought you didn't need me anymore — I suppose some things never change.' He strode down into the dark.

The two aurors raised their wands, the tips glowing cherry-red.

Fleur turned away, fleeing back through the narrow passage and disapparating.

The small willow sapling stood before the swathe of yellow daffodils, and purple and golden crocuses upon the riverbank, its bright green leaves still in the spring sunshine.

She breathed in the sweet fragrance of the rose, clutching its stem tight in her hand, her heart hammering against her ribs.

J'espère.

The hope twisted between her ribs like a razorblade, bitter on her tongue but cutting so deep and sweet it stole the breath from her.

J'espère, mon amour. Je t'aime.

Katie spluttered in her sleep, squirming in Fleur's arms.

'Tu iras bien,' she whispered, staring at the willow sapling. 'Tout ira bien, mon poussin.'

J'espère. Tu m'as promis.

The slim dark shapes of fish darted beneath the ripples of the river, flashing from the shadows of the near riverbank to those of the far and disappearing into the depths of the bend. Fleur's hope crumbled away; it took her heart with it, ripped it free with searing fingers and crushed it.

Of course you did not come back to our sunset, mon cœur. You saved our little girl.

She forced herself to breathe. 'Je suis désolée, baby bird, but it is just going to be the two of us now.' Fleur apparated into Gabby's bedroom, a small hot lump swelling in her throat and tears prickling in her eyes, and settled Katie down on her bed. 'Sleep well, little chick.'

A tear slipped free, splashing onto the tip of Katie's small nose.

She bent and kissed it away. 'Je t'aime.'

Warm tears slid down Fleur's cheeks and she sank to the floor beside the bed, cupping the crimson rose in her hands. 'Adieu, mon cœur. Adieu. I will keep our baby bird safe and make sure she's happy for you; je te le promets.'

AN: Follow the linktree to Discord for all my other stuff and another chapter to read, or come support me to read all the rest of this story and some of the next one, the new, lighthearted thing that everyone fancied after this bleak one.

linktr . ee / mjbradley