Beta: Digitize27
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"And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared." - Homer
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Harry stepped opposite the girl, Gabrielle, and bowed as custom dictated. She gave an elegant curtsey in return, wearing a smirk that belied the intrigue glittering in her pale eyes.
He eyed her wand; Laurel, by the look of it. He was no expert, but he had taken some time to study a bit of wand-lore after the summer of their third year. He was mostly guessing, it could easily be another light and rustic colored wood like oak, or perhaps cherry, even.
He knew the peaceful garden would only remain so for a moment, so he took a deep calming breath and inhaled the smell of roses to ready himself.
Her wand flicked up to start things off, sending out a quick stunner followed by a fairly advanced animation of a nearby bush that caused it to stand up and lumber towards him, flailing branches and roots like whips. It stood, nearly two meters tall, and swung roses and thorns at him with every wave of its spindly limbs. She wasn't done, however, and followed up with a disarming spell. Harry deflected it back towards her, trying and failing to imitate Dumbledore's own elegant style of deflection.
Dumbledore had lightly touched spells and sent them buzzing away effortlessly, Harry required much greater effort and focus to redirect spellfire.
While she shielded herself from her own spell, Harry turned his attention to her animation; he had considered an impressive application of Grindelwald's air conjuration, one which would have reduced the plant to shredded leaves and splinters, but he ruled it far too taxing.
Instead he incanted and let a little Dementor out of him.
"Imputresco."
As the hobbling mess approached it withered and turned to dust, the effect speeding up as it stepped closer until it was a pile of grey ash.
Ms. Delacour raised an eyebrow at his first verbal incantation and Harry used, the brief distraction to follow up with his epicenter spell against her shield. Dust and rock flew her way in clumps, enough to blind her, before she recovered and sidestepped, barely dodging the stupefy that would have put her down.
She twisted like a fencer, or perhaps a ballerina, through his spell chain. Her movements were confident but her expression was far from it.
She flicked her wand and pirouetted into her own rapid spell chain, her movements maintaining that same grace. It looked like she was dancing as she flicked her wand around her body and towards him, before twirling around again and firing off a few more in rapid succession.
It was an inhuman grace, and Harry found it almost hypnotic.
Almost.
Harry sheltered himself behind a barrier that covered his body, a shimmering half egg like shape coming into place before him.
She waved her wand again and he was nearly caught off guard when roots shot from the ground to clamber over him. They wrapped around his legs all the way to his waist, catching his hands, shoulders and part of his back.
All at once they tried to pull him down, attempting to render him immobile and open to her attacks. It would have worked too, against most anybody, and he was reminded rather forcibly exactly why he was here.
He needed the push, the challenge. He had grown in response to the obstacle the Dementors had presented; necessity being the mother of invention, and all that. It had driven him to new heights. The piece of magic he was about to perform was probably the most difficult he had ever attempted.
Harry inhaled heat and exhaled a long trail of wispy vapor, causing Gabrielle to freeze, metaphorically. Her animated roots on the other hand, froze far more literally. Frostbite quickly took hold in the plant, decay setting in wherever it touched him as the water inside rapidly froze, rupturing cells on a microscopic level. His Dementor imitation became ever-more complete as he grasped hold of the winter storm in his chest. He followed by waving his wand, almost negligently shattering the already disintegrating roots.
Hoarfrost spread across the ground at his feet as heat was sucked from the air, sketching glittering patterns in the ground that expanded inexorably outwards. Harry could even smell a touch of ozone, like in the moments right after a violent storm.
He cut the connection before it could exhaust him and found himself panting hard all the same. He could feel sweat run down his back from the sheer focus that had taken. It had been draining, but the result had turned a near-certain defeat into a chance for victory.
What worried him the most was that the struggle required to summon that power was nothing compared to the difficulty of letting it go.
Ideally, he would like to be able to maintain the disintegration effect, the cold, and the misery that Dementors could exude all at once while dueling. It would make him a formidable opponent that even talented, trained, adult wizards would have to take seriously to survive.
For now though, he could manage it only a little. Short bursts in a short radii around him, but no more than that.
His opponent still hadn't moved in her shock, and Harry touched her mind to find… a defense? It was certainly something he hadn't encountered before.
He recoiled, hoping she hadn't noticed the intrusion, but his touch, as always, had been feather light. No more than seeing the outermost layer of the web of thoughts behind her eyes. Harry could have pushed deeper, in all likelihood, and perhaps avoided ripping her mind raw, but that was… excessive, and risky. As were his other more sinister Dementor-esque qualities.
It was just a practise duel, after all. Right?
Besides, nobody needed to know that about him and he didn't need those abilities right now.
Show me what you can really do.
Harry thought in her direction. So far she had been impressive, certainly his most impressive dueling partner to date, but she hadn't displayed anything exceptional, except perhaps, her inhuman dodging.
Her face was elongating slightly, or was that his imagination?
"You think you can just toy with me!?" She hissed at him in French.
Yeah, kinda, at the moment at least. Unless you can push me more.
He didn't say that, for obvious reasons.
Her body seemed to be generating heat around her, the air shimmering and warping above her like hot tarmac. She managed to genuinely surprise him when she abruptly summoned fire in her free hand and hurled it in his direction, even as she cast with her wand.
Pyrokinesis!
Harry thought excitedly. This was much more real, much more challenging. Between the mental defenses and this... She was a lot like him!
He wasn't sure how he stacked up to a pyrokinetic, and he wasn't sure how she stacked up to any other pyrokinetic. Her abilities were unique and special and that made him wary.
She shot a tripping spell, body bind, and a punching hex in rapid succession; more heated than her previous spells, but not all that dangerous.
The referee looked ready to step in but for now the duel appeared under control by both parties. Besides, when was the last time the poor coach had ever seen a duel between a pyrokinetic and whatever the hell Harry was? Never. Harry really couldn't blame the man for letting it continue, besides, Harry didn't want it to stop either.
He would have liked to nullify her heat with his effect, challenge her pyrokinesis directly with his cryokinesis, but he had used that fairly recently and needed to catch his breath. In reality it was the disintegration of the roots which had been more exhausting, but he could afford to take the time and recover. Harry stepped sideways and stretched the angles where she could cast spells to their limit.
He deflected spells away and avoided the fire she threw, while slipping past those he was confident would miss.
He saw her smirk and throw a fireball towards him. It rushed past him, only to pause in mid-air. A sudden shout had the fireball detonating just past his ear, a clear miss turned into a trap.
Harry inhaled the heat rather than let it burn him. When the roar in his ears subsided, he heard shouting.
Daphne had stood up and was looking at him in shock. Had he told her about his cyrokinesis and his study of Thermomancy? Surely he had, and even if he hadn't, she knew he published something about Thermomancy recently.
Harry touched her mind.
I'm alright.
He told her mentally through impressions and not words.
She gave a surprised start as Harry looked away.
The referee had stepped closer, his eyes looking panicked but when he saw Harry was uninjured he stopped.
"Are you unharmed? Do you need to cancel the duel?"
Harry shook his head. "She didn't touch me, Sir."
The man muttered something. "...children… Very well. Start again when you are ready."
Harry nodded and turned back to Ms. Delacour. She appeared a little ashen, but her anger was still there, simmering under the surface. He presumed she hadn't meant for things to go so far and was glad he wasn't hurt, but she clearly wasn't willing to let the perceived slight go unpunished.
That wasn't quite good enough, if he wanted her off-balance then Harry needed her pissed.
Harry lobbed his reversing spell at her. It struck her and spun her around, then he knocked her into the dirt with another lazy flick.
She stood up frantically and turned towards him with eyes full of fury. She wiped the dirt from her face and Harry saw the heat that had died out reawaken.
Harry waved his left hand and struck her with his wandless magic as he had done to Malfoy in second year. Then waved his wand to pull the air into striking her back.
Grindelwald's spell was much easier if you didn't focus the air so much, and with a wand in hand.
She staggered to her hands and knees and looked up at him with unrestrained malice, all trace of the previous worry gone. She stood back up, her movements were more elegant again, now that she was focused, less surprised and less panicked. Her face was indeed elongating; some kind of transformation? Her features were taut in concentration.
Harry felt something touch his mind. It was a lance, full of emotions. He shattered the probe with pitiable ease but eyed her more cautiously. He felt waves against him mind, lapping against his shore, smaller than the initial tsunami, but unable to breach his levees and flood his mind with foreign thoughts.
Legilimency? Surprising.
She was waiting, but for what? Harry cocked his head curiously.
Could it be that she didn't feel him smash her mental attack? What was she? Was she like him?
Oh…
Harry laughed out loud, unable to help himself.
The girl frowned at the unexpected reaction, any confidence she might have gained, shaken.
The pyromancy, the weak and undirected Legilimency, the transformation, the grace.
"You're a veela." Harry laughed again. He had started to worry; started to think that perhaps that she was like him; the mind arts, the control, all of it was familiar, even if not the same; it had been enough to get him thinking. But in the end… "Did you think that would work on me? That I'd just fall at your feet?"
"Do you think this is a joke?!" She exclaimed, part surprised and part furious.
Harry began to charge himself as she managed to gather herself once more.
She was exceptional to be sure, but she hadn't worked for what she had the way he had. Her Legilimency was a pale imitation of the true thing. Her defenses were a mere result of her nature, rather than of her dedication.
Her pyrokinesis was interesting, as was her transformation, but it was clear now how she was able to beat the Durmstrang boys.
It was impressive, and her dueling was practiced to the point that he was fairly certain she had had received additional instruction beyond what was taught here.
It was a well put together technique.
She hurled a fireball at him and he spun, twirling beneath the fireball even as he dashed sideways. As he moved left, he put as much distance between himself and her attack as possible, just in case she pulled that trick out again. How much control do pyrokinetics have? How do they compare to Veela? How does she sit within that spectrum?
Harry had no way of knowing, so he erred towards caution.
Harry let the circuit in his chest complete, the capacitance he built releasing its stored energy; sparks ran down his left hand from his core even as he spun, current following his path. Electricity balled along his arms and arced between his fingers and his teeth as he felt the charges flow.
As he came out of his spin to stand up straight, he pointed his left hand at her and the voltage snapped closed. He aimed high, for her right shoulder and not towards her heart. Her Veela heritage would protect her from burns, but not from the amps.
The bolt struck her dead centre and she was lifted from her feet, to be thrown rolling out of bounds. Her body was steaming slightly, as was Harry's left hand.
His powers over the elements were good, he had modeled them after the Indian-God-Kings themselves, but he knew his abilities still paled in comparison to their power.
He could charge and release some electricity, while Indra could become a human bolt of lightning and lay waste to mountains. He could pull at the air, but not so quickly that it formed a vacuum, generating light and heat even as it pulled the entire population of cities inside out. That ability belonged to Vayu, Queen of the-Open-Spaces-of-the-World.
No, his elemental powers weren't so awesome and he knew that he would never match those legends, but his abilities could be impressive, even if they would always fall short of mythical.
However little it was, it was still enough to win.
Harry watched Gabrielle get to her feet, glaring daggers at him even as her friends rushed to her to help her up. Harry saw that he had burned through part of her silk robes but her skin beneath was fine, as he suspected it would be.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked stepping closer.
She looked at him furiously. "Fine, thanks." She managed through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry for baiting you," he said earnestly. "I just wanted to see what you could do."
"You attacked me!"
"You started throwing fire around," Harry reminded gently. "I just wanted to know more. You were impressive."
"Thanks," he heard her mutter angrily. "I guess you saw everything you needed then." There was something disappointed in her tone as her friends escorted her away.
Harry shrugged it off and walked back towards Daphne, thanking the awestruck judge as he paced past.
"Was this all part of your plan?" Susan asked Daphne.
"You have to admit it was funny," Daphne said, smiling. "She had no idea why her Veela wiles weren't working." She paused as Harry approached, glaring at him somewhat accusingly. "You didn't mention the cold."
"You knew that I published something on Thermomancy recently," Harry countered with a shrug.
Daphne just sighed, looking resigned. The session was drawing to a close around them, but Harry wasn't going to wait even that long, already heading off towards the Dining Hall.
"Where are you going?" Daphne asked.
"I want to see Dumbledore's age line," he said. "Then I'll probably take a look at the library."
"Does he ever relax?" Susan asked, looking at Daphne for an answer.
"Studying and practicing magic?" Daphne clarified. "For him, that is relaxing."
"Doesn't he want to see Cannes?"
"Harry, want to go to Cannes?" Daphne asked him.
Harry shrugged.
"There you go," Daphne said, turning back to Susan. "I'll probably get him to apparate me over with him later but he's on a mission right now."
"He can apparate too?" Susan exclaimed. "That's rubbish!"
"I'd say you get used to it, but you really don't."
Inside there were dozens of students sitting around staring at the goblet, including the rest of their Hogwarts year mates.
"Anyone put their names in?"
"Diggory and Spinnet that I've seen," Ernie said with a nod. "All the Durmstrang students too, including Victor Krum."
Harry walked past them towards the golden shimmering line which surrounded the goblet.
"If you think of a way around it, you'll tell me, right Harry?" Michael asked. "For academics of course."
"You could probably walk right through it if you had no intention of putting your name in," Harry murmured, examining the line. "If it had been made by anyone else but Dumbledore that is."
Almost anyone else, really.
Harry extended a hand and met a barrier. He followed it around and saw it formed a cylinder of resistant magic that wrapped around the goblet.
A boy in a Beauxbatons approached talking with his friends and holding a steaming goblet of red liquid.
"It's brilliant! How did you have time to brew an aging potion?"
"It was easy, I just had to get the ingredients from Professor Petit." Harry guessed that Professor Petit was the potions instructor. "It really didn't take much convincing."
Harry stepped out of the way smiling slightly.
"What's going on?" Su asked.
"They're going to try an aging potion," Daphne said. "I think." She looked to Harry for confirmation and he nodded.
Had she really picked up French that fast? And he had thought his powers were good.
"Will that work?" Michael looked interested.
"No," Harry said, now grinning.
He caught the attention of one of the boys' friends. "And 'ow would you know?" He said in accented English.
"You really think Dumbledore will be tricked by an aging potion?" Harry asked the older boy.
"Arrogant Englishman." The boy snapped back. "Dumbledore 'asn't accomplished anything in decades. Ze old man is slipping."
"You're really sure it won't work?" Michael asked again, eyes glancing between the potion and the line.
"Yes," Harry answered, just as succinctly.
The crowd chanted for the boy with the potion to drink it and he did to the cheers of the hall. The boy gave a smirk and a cheeky grin with a wink before walking confidently through the line.
When he wasn't thrown back immediately he was met with applause from the hall. Michael glanced up at Harry, his expression doubting.
"It seems that Harry Potter isn't the next great wizard after all." The boy announced mockingly from within the circle. "Boy-Who-Lived, indeed."
Harry merely raised an eyebrow.
The boy gave him an arrogant look and smirked before facing back towards the Goblet, but his expression turned into surprise as he was catapulted head over heels out of the circle, nearly a dozen meters away. He landed harshly and coughed from the impact; winded.
Then his hair started to change color, shifting from a rich black to an elderly white. A ludicrous, almost Dumbeldore-esque beard began to grow on the boy's shaven face, the same snowy color. His friends closed around him while the rest of the hall laughed at the would-be-champion's expense.
Harry stepped back closer to the ward and ran his wand along it, taking careful measurements. He paused and did it again, repeating his process. He stepped back and shook his head.
"I read that no ward is foolproof, but I don't see anyone getting through that." He said to the Hogwarts fourth years.
"Could you overpower it?" Daphne asked him.
He frowned. "Maybe. If I had time. But certainly not without alerting Dumbledore, I'd probably bring the hall down before I breached that ward."
Maybe if I used blood magic...
"Excuse me." A girl in the grey uniform of Durmstrang walked up to him. "How did you know that wouldn't work?" She pointed towards were the boy with the beard was being moved to the Beauxbatons equivalent of the hospital wing, in all probability.
"If you can think of it, Dumbledore likely has too," Harry explained. "I'm not saying he doesn't make mistakes, but they are rare."
"So, there's no way through?"
"There might be one…" Harry stroked his jaw. "Not because Dumbledore wouldn't have thought of it, but because I'm not sure how he could have warded against it. Mind you, that doesn't mean he couldn't do it, I just don't know how he would while also making it so everyone else could enter who should."
"How?" Harry turned to look at Daphne for a moment.
"You could use a memory charm on yourself until you believed that you are seventeen, but anything could cause you to be reminded how old you really are and cause the charm to fail and you will have accomplished nothing. Not to mention mind magic is incredibly dangerous." Harry shot the last part towards the girl who asked him, rather than for Daphne's sake.
"Er-and for those of us who are just learning French?" Michael asked.
Harry repeated his theory for them again.
"But who could cast a charm like that?" Su asked. She shook her head. "It would be stupid to do."
"Harry could." Daphne said. "Couldn't you, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but I won't," he asserted resolutely.
Harry stepped back, shaking his head, and made for the exit.
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The library was magnificent. When Grindelwald destroyed the old French school, he had burned the library with it, a priceless collection, something Harry held against him.
However, there was one French wizard magnanimous and wealthy enough to replace it. The Library had been named after the donor in question.
Bibliothéque du Flamel was printed above large doors just opposite of the Dining Hall. It had two floors with large glass windows that stretched from floor to ceiling and, in some places, across that, too. The shelves were stacked high around tables nestled between stacks.
It was by far more modern than the Hogwarts library, which made sense considering it was built almost a millennium later.
There were even small rooms on the second floor which one could occupy and use to study, cut off from the rest of the library in what wasn't quite a private room, given the windows, but was more secluded.
Harry took an unoccupied room. There was a sign hanging on one of the windows of the room.
It translated to 'Willing to Share'. Harry stepped through and noted the other side read 'Please Don't Disturb.' Harry flipped the sign at once so that the 'Please Don't Disturb' faced outward and opened his journal, setting out the books he was studying.
He missed his room.
He pulled the first pile towards him, two of the books Professor McGonagall loaned him on Animagi, The Mechanics of Human Transfiguration and The Animagus Process. There were also two others she had loaned him; Arithmancy for Inhuman Transformations and Modalities of Mankind, but they were… well they were beyond him.
None of the books contained the knowledge he sought about what happened to a human soul during an animagus transformation, though Modalities of Mankind might come close in terms of how the mind changed during the process.
He began to take careful notes from the two books he started with for several hours, before he switched tracks towards Lebendig eine Katagorisch Studie. He wanted to finish it soon so he could return it to the Headmaster. He had borrowed it for most of a year now.
He also wanted to finish the things he had started so that he could fully take advantage of the French Library while he was here.
He felt Daphne's familiar mind approaching, and it didn't take her long to find him.
"You could have told me where you were going," She said after she opened the door and sat down.
"I said I was going to see the age line and then come here."
"The library is pretty large, Harry."
"Fair enough," he admitted. "Sorry."
"Will you teach me how to deflect spells like you were doing earlier?"
"I don't see why not."
"Oh yeah, and during your duel, you also told me that you were okay," she said, giving him a pointed yet almost coy look as she got to her point. When he shrugged she finished the thought. "With Legilimency."
Harry nodded but then frowned slightly. "I did. I probably shouldn't have."
She shook her head. "No, It's alright. I just didn't know you could do that. Legilimens could have entire conversations where they just think the words at each other."
"Well," he mused, "you don't want to actually think the words. One of the core tenants of Augeomancy is that you should only deal with impressions."
"What do you mean?"
"Well let's say you were solving a problem. Do you want to narrate the problem, or do you want to just think through the solution for it? It's faster, and it can help you think faster. That's why it's part of Augeomancy. Even in your own mind, working only with impressions rather than with words is more efficient, this sort of telepathy is no different. I didn't think at you that I wasn't hurt with words, I just let you know that I was alright. I skipped over language entirely."
"So, you could explain this concept to me even faster if you just thought it at me."
Harry nodded.
"Have you ever done something like this before?"
"Only with Dumbledore."
"Do you have telepathic conversations with the Headmaster often?" She sounded slightly nervous.
Harry shook his head. "It was a bit of a special circumstance. It was when Hermione was paralyzed by the Basilisk. When I discovered what Slytherin's monster was, I had to tell Dumbledore as fast as possible."
She looked slightly relieved. She bit her lip and there was a sort of tense silence for a long moment. "You know… you could do it with me... talk to me like that, I mean." She looked at him from the seat next to him with big blue eyes.
"You're not worried about me invading your privacy?" Harry asked.
She shook her head without hesitation. "Just think about how useful it would be."
Harry looked at Daphne for a long moment. "It'll probably be okay, if it's used sparingly."
"You think it could be damaging?"
"Maybe." He eyed her carefully.
"Well, that only works if you need to talk to me, what if I need to talk to you? Then you'd have to be in my mind all the time."
"You shouldn't get used to me being in your head. It would be counterproductive to learning Occlumency."
And this is starting to have shades of Ginny Weasley…
"Alright, fine," she relented. "But you'll still use it to talk to me occasionally, right?"
"Just not all the time," Harry affirmed.
That can't hurt, can it?
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Daphne had him apparate them to the Cannes the next day. The city was a muggle tourist trap, but there were plenty of restaurants too, as well as fine sandy beaches to relax on.
The city also had a hidden magical area, like Diagon Alley in London. Though, it was much more modern looking than its almost Medieval-esque counterpart. French Magicals simply had to live closer to muggles and there was no real pureblood bigotry, Grindelwald had caused too much damage, killed too many people for the witches and wizards to care about blood status in all but the most fringe elements, making them closer to their muggle counterparts.
In order for mainland European magical society to survive they had to overthrow many such ideas.
The systematic slaughter of continental Europe's magical aristocracy likely hadn't hurt either.
Witches and wizards in Cannes du Magique wore robes, sure, but for every wizard in formal robes there were two more in jeans.
"Do muggles really wear this stuff? There's nothing there." Daphne pointed to a clothing store with mannequins that were displaying some skirts that left some material to be desired.
Harry just shrugged, he couldn't care less about clothing.
"We should probably buy something for Tracey."
"You think she wants a tourist knick-knack?" Harry asked.
"I know she does." Daphne reached into her robe and pulled out a letter and branded it towards him. "She told me so. She says 'hi' by the way."
"Does she want something muggle or magical?"
"Both probably." Daphne grumbled. "What the hell do people get in France for friends?" She asked herself.
"Wine?" Harry guessed. "Cheese? Is Olive Oil Italian, or French?"
"That's just stereotypical." She huffed at him. "You know… since you can apparate, we could probably go visit them on a Hogsmeade weekend."
"You want me to sidelong apparate you across a continent?"
"Too dangerous?"
"I wouldn't pretend it was safe, certainly."
She settled on a muggle postcard. "In my defense, I'm sure I'm going to send her more things."
It was midday when Harry apparated them back to the pier at Beauxbatons, the only place where one could do such a thing on campus.
Harry made to move towards the library, but Daphne caught his arm.
"Nuh uh. You agreed to help me with hex deflection. I refuse to be beaten by some third-year again."
Harry taught her the technique and theory behind spell deflection down in the clearing that the Hogwarts Train had settled in.
"It's not about hurling spells away from you, though that's part of it. You need to reverse it, to change the intent as you do it."
"You could just show me how." She tapped her temple with her wand.
"Sparing use, Daphne, sparing." Besides, if he had to learn it the hard way, there was no way he was going to let her cheat so easily.
He spent half an hour jabbing stinging hexes at her and she would try and deflect them. He didn't hold back near as much as he had when working Neville over last year. Daphne wouldn't appreciate him handling her with safety gloves.
By the end of the impromptu session she was sweating from the exertion and panting hard.
"Need a brake?"
She gave him a half-hearted glare but didn't respond, forced to lean of a tree at the edge of the clearing for support. Harry counted that as a victory.
"I really… don't see how… you do this… so easily," she gasped between breaths. "It's not like you… had practice… did you?"
"I had the memory, and I did practice as much as I was able. Besides, magic doesn't exhaust me as quickly as it does you." He paused to look at her drooped form. "Evidently."
"Brag about it more, why don't you?" She teased, smirking.
"You asked." He smiled back.
She adjourned to the showers and Harry made his way into the dormitory. He dug around in his trunk until he found the pensieve he had completed on the first night. He took a seat on his bed, dropped the memory into the bowl, and put his face into it.
The duel was the same as ever. Magnificent and beautiful, almost.
Like a battle between Gods.
And when the opening volley destroyed lesser witches and wizards as a mere side effect, it really drove that point home.
Soon.
Harry thought.
I'll join them soon.
Harry watched the duel rage and put aside his awe. Instead he watched for Grindelwald's honeds technique and Dumbledore's tireless, impenetrable defense. Two Centennial wizards, born in the same century.
Just like Voldemort and himself.
The thought brought him back to who he was bound to. He remembered examining Gabrielle Delacour's wand yesterday and looked down at his own. Holly and Phoenix Feather.
Voldemort's twin.
He felt a deep pang of fear and remembered his boggart.
Many people were afraid of Voldemort, but how many were afraid of Tom Riddle? Or at least the idea of Tom Riddle. Maybe Harry was the only one.
There was no way it was all a coincidence.
He shook his head and cast the thoughts aside and tried to return to the duel.
He gave up after a few minutes of not really absorbing what he was seeing, withdrawing and placing his wand at his temple. He hesitated. He had felt compelled to view his confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets, but now he was decidedly less certain.
He lowered his wand.
It doesn't matter anyway. Besides, the Basilisk might still be dangerous, even as a memory.
Harry pulled out Grindelwald's paper and set his quill to it, only to frown. Despite their brief interaction, or perhaps because of it, he still didn't trust Grindelwald enough to ask him about Dumbledore, or his more pressing worries regarding the soul.
He lowered his quill too.
I feel... trapped.
He decided.
Before he could explore that further he felt a familiar mind approaching him rather quickly for its usual pace. He put Grindelwald's paper back in Daphne's box hurriedly. He turned at once towards the dormitory door where there was a polite knock.
"Come in Headmaster." He smirked lightly at turning the Headmaster's own trick around.
The wizard stepped in with a calm look on his face that belied his authority and self-assured strength. It was the face of a sorcerer.
"Harry, I'm afraid I need you to come with me. There's been accident and it seems that there are questions you can answer."
Harry frowned and stood from the bed he had been resting on.
Dumbledore's eyes had none for their usual mirth. They shone but held no twinkle. Harry had only seen such expression on Dumbledore's face a few times. He could count the incidents in question on one hand with fingers left over.
Harry followed the Headmaster to a low building on the more southern side of the campus.
The building had few windows but there was a caduceus in front of the door, making the purpose of the building obvious.
Harry stepped in to find Madam Maxime, Highmaster Karkaroff, a girl in a red uniform, another girl in similar colors in one of the beds which lined the hall, and a nimble looking witch of short stature whose uniform marked her as a Mediwitch.
"That's him, Highmaster. He told me to do it," she said in German, and he recognized her as the one who asked him about the age line.
"You didn't," Harry replied in the same language. He felt shocked and looked back towards the girl in the bed.
The bedridden girl was motionless.
Surely no one was so stupid?
"Boy!" The Highmaster snarled. "You confess to a role in this madness?" The Highmaster sounded furious.
"Per'aps zis discussion should be more open." Madam Maxime cut in. "Mr Potter, we 'ave 'eard Ms. Faere's side of ze story. We should like to hear your own."
"Why don't you start from after your popular duel with Ms. Delacour yesterday, until you departed from the Dining Hall, Harry," Dumbledore added.
"I went from the dueling pits to the Dining Hall with Daphne and Susan. I wanted to have a look at your age line, headmaster. I had never seen one before and I wanted to examine it. Once I arrived I saw someone, who I assume attends Beauxbatons based on their uniform, attempt to cross it using an ageing potion. I predicted that it wouldn't work, and was proven correct. Afterwards a girl in a Durmstrang uniform asked me how I knew the potion wouldn't work. She asked me if I could think of a way around the ward."
Harry paused for a moment.
"And?" Madam Maxime pressed.
"I hypothesized that if you could use a memory charm to fool yourself regarding your age, then you could fool the age line."
"Is that accurate to your description Ms Faere?" Dumbledore turned towards the girl.
"I don't speak English," she said, sounding more nervous. Being addressed by the most powerful wizard in the world would do that. "And only a little French…"
If she spoke German, then it may be safe to conclude that Durmstrang was in Germany. Though, if pinning down the school's location was so easy, then it would be public knowledge by now. Perhaps it was just a ruse. Make people think it was in Germany when it was elsewhere.
Harry repeated what he had said in German for her.
"I was not aware you had progressed so far with German, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Does that match your description of events? Ms. Faere?"
"More or less, he said that you could use a memory charm on yourself so that you believed that you were seventeen. After that, the ward should let you across."
Harry had turned towards the other girl laying in the bed. "And you actually attempted it?" He muttered incredulously.
"Harry, surely you wouldn't recommend something like this," Dumbledore cut in.
Harry shook his head. "I mentioned that mind magic is incredibly dangerous," He replied. "I didn't recommend it, I was just postulating." His eyes never left the victim. "Will she recover?" He asked the mediwitch in French.
"I'm not a mind healer," she said. "This is beyond my expertise."
"One of my students is in a critical condition," Karkaroff cut across. "Something must be done!"
"We need 'er legal guardians to authorize a mind 'ealer," Madam Maxime returned more calmly. "That is within your power, Igor."
"I am well aware of that, thank you Olympe." Karkaroff bit back. "I meant about him."
"Me?" Harry asked.
"Your experiment, your responsibility."
"Now Karkaroff-"
"I suppose it's only natural you would protect your star pupil, Dumbledore," The Highmaster interrupted.
"I never raised my wand to this girl, nor did I recommend performing such dangerous magic," Harry said heatedly. "I don't see how you can possibly blame this on me."
Faere was looking more and more lost, being perhaps the only person there who didn't speak English.
"I 'ave to agree. Mr. Potter did not actually cast ze spell. He cannot be guilty. Your student displayed poor judgement."
Karkaroff was clearly out voted and it looked like he knew it. There was something resentful in his eyes, however.
"Harry, your knowledge of mind magic is likely only surpassed by my own, here on this campus. What do you think about Ms Malachite's condition?"
He eyed the Headmaster oddly for bringing that secret to light here and now. He himself received some looks from those who spoke English.
"If the charm had merely rendered Ms Malachite comatose," he began stepping around to eye the girl in question, bringing his attention to the problem at hand. "Then we should expect to see some indicators of deep sleep. Rapid eye movement, twitching, et cetera." He glanced up towards those in the room and touched his jaw.
"She 'asn't moved," Madam Maxine informed him, sensing his question.
"Then she is likely brain-dead," Harry said bluntly. "Well beyond modern medicine. Her attempt to cross the ward killed her."
He could feel no consciousness from her.
"Harry, why don't you return to the train. If I'm not mistaken, you have classes early tomorrow." Dumbledore sounded mournful, but Harry suspected that he had merely confirmed the man's own suspicions.
"Yes Sir." He departed with one final look at the victim's body.
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Harry slept for only a few hours that night. Enough for him to get by, at least, before he donned his invisibility cloak and slipped out. He made his way towards the clinic and slowly pushed the door open.
The girl was still lying there.
Harry cast the person revealing charm to see if anyone was close by before kneeling down by the girl.
Without eye contact and in her current state he could get no more than the barest trace of consciousness from her, now that the room was emptied of all minds but theirs.
Which was good news.
She wasn't entirely brain-dead.
Harry pointed his wand at her. "Legilimens."
Bright lights and a spider's web. Clusters of emotion and a loom of memories. Dark shadows cast by waves which lapped against her skull.
He dove.
There were glaring absences. Where in Ginny's mind magic hummed against certain cords, sealing them away, here there was that too, but also places where they had been torn.
It was a tragedy, but it was almost… beautiful, to behold.
Like the view of a hundred acres of scorched forest the day after a massive fire.
There was no need to fear traps laid in waiting by Tom Riddle, so Harry set himself to work.
He must have knelt for hours peeling away coverings and removing the rushed and unpracticed work of the memory charm.
Some sections… they were beyond recovery. Plain and simple. Ripped out rather than tucked away. It was sloppy work even on the cut off connections, so it was slow going.
Even if he put her back together the connections would be different. She would never be the same person.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...
He must have knelt for hours because when he finally withdrew from her mind he saw sunlight reflecting across the surface of the Mediterranean through the few of the hospital's windows
He stood up and his joints popped. He cast another Hominem Revelio and saw no one approaching. A quick Tempus revealed that it was six in the mourning. He had been at it for nearly five hours and he had made good progress, but the work yet to be done was staggering.
The intent of the memory charm had been to remove age, but age was so deeply rooted in her mind that it had to touch everything. Combine that with a badly cast charm and you were left with… this.
He estimated that it may take two dozen more hours to mend what could be mended. After that, they'd just have to see if she woke up at all.
Even if she did, it would likely take years to recover. Months of her life, permanently lost. Hours of surgery, all because of a four syllable spell.
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"Potter?" The Magical Zoology professor called his name for role, they were down by a pier which faced away from Cannes.
Beauxbatons didn't have anything like the forbidden forest to house its creatures, and his understanding was that most, if not all of the classes for the subject would be theoretical, rather than the practical ones he was used to at Hogwarts.
They sometimes had practical lessons here at Beauxbatons but they had to portkey out to the foot hills north of Cannes.
He had also heard that it was there that they kept a herd of Abraxan Horses.
He raised a hand. "Here, ma'am."
She took a moment to look up from her list. "You're the Dementor boy, aren't you? Odd choice of study, don't you think?"
"They were on the Hogwarts grounds." Harry shrugged. "They chose me."
"That means you can cast a patronus." She eyed him up and down with narrow, evaluating eyes. "That's a fine, complex bit of magic there."
Harry nodded. "It's crude, but it works."
"Crude?" Daphne whispered to him when Professor Laguardia continued down the list of names.
"I still haven't managed anything corporeal yet," he admitted, slightly abashed.
She giggled at his embarrassment. "Yeah, how dare you not fully master the patronus charm as a fourth-year." She teased him.
He smiled slightly at her teasing.
"Hey what happened last night?" She continued.
"That Durmstrang girl from the dining hall, remember how she asked me how to cross the ward?"
Daphne nodded waiting for him to continue.
"She tried it." He finished.
"Is she okay?"
He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Mind magic is no joke, Daphne."
"That explains some of the dirty looks you've been getting from them." She nodded towards some grey-uniformed students. "They probably think you attacked their friend."
Harry hadn't noticed.
"I hope I didn't cause a diplomatic incident," Harry said lightly. "I can see the headline now; Hogwarts Student Attacks Durmstrang Representative."
"Oh stop." She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "No one would believe that."
"The same way no one believed I was the heir of Slytherin?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "Or that I'm not some dark wizard who curses people." He gestured lightly in the direction of their Hogwarts peers.
"Touche." She frowned, biting her lip. "It's not that they don't like you."
"It's just that they're afraid of me," he finished for her.
"They don't understand you. It's not their fault."
"Luckily, I have you," he said.
She looked away and they followed the Professor down to the end of the pier. They spent part of the morning cataloguing magical plants and feeding them to a Mediterranean sea-creature called a Hippocampus.
Daphne translated between the other Hogwarts students and the Professor so they wouldn't be totally left behind.
Harry frowned lightly. They should have learned the language. At least some of it. Or they shouldn't have come. Unfortunately for those who didn't speak French, not all of the Hogwarts fourth-years had the same classes. Most of them were in Runes and Arithmancy, but Harry and Daphne weren't in Divination, and Su and Ernie were.
Harry instead went to the Dining Hall for lunch. As he walked into the hall he immediately attracted stares from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students alike. Most were curious, no different from the looks he got when he first went to Hogwarts, but there was also suspicion and some anger. Mostly from Durmstrang, but there was also a little from the French.
Leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone.
Harry thought.
He adjourned to the library once he was finished with classes for the day, tired of being stared at. He just wanted to be left alone to study.
He sighed as he set his materials up again in one of the private rooms before beginning his scouring of the library. Anything on Mind Magic was the obvious priority. He also kept his eye open for anything about the soul, but this library had no restricted section, they simply didn't carry books about sophisticated dark arts or advanced and dangerous magic.
He wondered if that was the school's decision, or Nicolas Flamel's.
Though there was more about Alchemy here in a single section than in all of the Hogwarts library.
Reasonable, considering this collection's previous owner.
He wasn't particularly interested in alchemy. Not as much as he was by other things, at least for now. He wandered the stacks for an hour, learning the layout, before he retreated to practice the magic back in the room he had occupied.
He was more than a little surprised to find a girl who definitely wasn't Daphne inside. She was the girl people had been staring at the first day.
What is it with me and blondes?
He asked himself.
"Did you need this room?" He asked the girl as he stepped inside.
She shook her head.
"Then what can I do for you?"
She gave a small, confident smile. He touched her mind lightly.
"My name is Fleur Delacour," she said with a glowing smile and perfect straight white teeth. "My sister mentioned dueling you Saturday."
"You are a Veela too?" He took a moment to study her.
"She said you did not notice her allure. Even when she focused it on you."
He frowned. "And?"
"I wanted to see if it was true," She finished, the smile faltering slightly. "You do not seem affected, but nobody simply does not notice it."
Harry shrugged, sitting down and pulling an animagus book towards him.
"I wish to try and test my allure against you," she said at length, when it became clear he wasn't going to respond.
He set the book down and frowned considering.
"I don't see the harm in it," he mused after a moment.
"You are sure?" She asked.
He nodded and at once he felt a rise against his mental defenses but it never touched him. Empressions conveying a desire to impress her and keep her attention were utterly dismissed. "Was that all?"
"Merci…" She was giving him an astonished and evaluative look. "What do you know about Veela?"
"Veela are a lot like calicos." Harry said rubbing his jaw.
"What?"
"Calicos," he repeated. "Tortoiselle. It's a trait that some cats have."
"I know what calico cats are," she said after a moment, looking at him oddly.
"It's a trait some cats have, the black and orange stripes on white," Harry clarified. "It's only apparent in female cats." He nodded in her direction. "Being a Veela refers to a series of traits which only manifest in female witches. Further, like Calico cats, Veela children are all female Veela."
"You are well informed…" Fleur said slowly. "Most wizards know little about Veela. And those who do are more interested in our abilities zhan why they manifest."
Harry shrugged.
Harry heard the door open and felt Daphne's mind.
"Harry?" She asked. "What's going on?"
"She wanted to test her Veela magic on me." Harry said.
"Per'aps I can explain better?" Fleur interjected. "I 'ad 'eard from my sister Gabrielle zhat 'e was immune to ze allure. I wanted to see for myself."
Harry frowned. "That's what I said."
"Harry… no it wasn't," Daphne said slowly and with some exasperation. "I take it from the lack of drool that it didn't work on you?"
"'e wasn't affected in the slightest." Fleur answered in his place.
I just wanted to read about Animagi.
Daphne smirked slightly. "That's Harry for you."
There was a moment of awkward silence and Harry turned back to his book.
"I z'hink that I shall depart for dinner," Fleur began, giving Harry a totally confused look, "Au revoir, Mr. Potter."
Harry waved her off and returned to his book.
"You are such a strange wizard, Harry," Daphne said as she took her seat.
"Why?"
"You just ignored a Veela who went out of her way to find you and talk to you," she informed him. "How many wizards would do that?"
"I have no idea. I'm really not a normal wizard." He shrugged. "I just wanted to read this book."
"God, you're such a nerd," she said, laughing lightly. "Do you want to practice Occlumency with me?"
She smiled, and he couldn't resist the desire to smile back at her.
"Sure," he said, closing his book.
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"And your very flesh shall be a great poem."- Walt Whitman
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I answer questions and respond to reviews at my forum.
WG
Edited 4/17/18