Flowers from the Storm

Disclaimer : Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's. Still.

AN : Slightly shorter one, I'm afraid!

Flowers from the Storm

Agdol's shadow paced the length of the blind in his office and muttered Gobbledegook drifted from the half-open door.

Someone probably broke his precious rules. Fleur crossed her ankles. But not me. Not this time, at least.

"He's pissed." Bill leant back in the chair at the edge of her desk. "All the goblins have been antsy recently. Something's going on down below, I reckon. Voldemort's stirred them up."

Fleur glanced at her enchanted quill and quirked an eyebrow. "Down below?"

He threw a glance at Agdol's shadow. "How much do you know about goblins?"

"French history with them." Fleur watched him drag his chair around beside hers and raised her eyebrows when he got within arm's length. "Why?"

"So not much." Bill threw another glance at Agdol. "Not much less than me, though." He fiddled with the dragon fang, bouncing it on the ball of his thumb. "So, from what I've gathered. Gringotts is just, like, a trading outpost. All the branches are."

"And?"

"Well." He shrugged and scratched his cheek. "They're like the tips of the iceberg. Whole bunch of different clans and kingdoms down there underneath Gringotts. Takes a few years to start to recognise them from the Gobbledegook or the symbols. Some of them have cut off from the surface altogether, I think. Some are happy as things are. But most…"

"Aren't."

"Yeah." Bill shifted a little closer and lowered his voice. "Long memories, goblins. Some of it's in their language, though, if you pay attention. They call the Alps Ukz Dar Danag which literally means peaks of our bones. And they're opportunistic bastards, goblins, every time some wizarding conflict pops up they get all shifty. Reckon they'll be thinking about another rebellion more and more the longer this war goes on."

"But they still live under the Alps." Fleur threw a glance at the clock as Agdol stomped from his office and out toward the apparition point, his briefcase in hand. "Half the wars against goblins were fought under the Alps."

Agdol's not coming back if he's taken his case. She pursed her lips. If I can get rid of Bill, I can go check on the Notts.

"Yeah, under them. They want their land above the surface back." Bill's gaze dropped to her fingers and a faint frown passed across his face. "Lost the ring?"

"No." Fleur slipped out of her seat on the far side and ushered her quills away. "It's in the drawer."

"Not wearing it?" Bill leant back in his chair. "I thought you liked it?"

"My boyfriend didn't like it." Fleur cleared her desk. "It's an interesting puzzle, but not all that pretty."

"Right. Your boyfriend. Of course." He rolled his eyes. "If you're done early, we can grab a drink or something. I've had enough of the idiots downstairs for one day. Bunch of dicks thought it'd be funny to trick me into a cursed wardrobe at lunch. It grabbed me everywhere. Never felt so violated in my life." He chuckled, then the laughter faded from his face. "Speaking of the war, though. You thought about my offer? I - well, look, I consider you a friend, even if you are French, and those Death Eaters are nasty pieces of work…"

"Non." Fleur slipped her wand back through her belt. "To both."

Bill sighed. "Will you at least promise to think about it if things get worse or let me come by with a friend or two and put up some wards for you?"

She laughed. "I would be surprised if your friends can ward things better than I can."

"They've had ten years experience warding." Bill grimaced. "You're a really stubborn girl, you know. It annoys me almost as much as I like

it."

"Ten years experience stopping portkeys from working." Fleur turned her nose up. "When I left Beauxbatons, I could've joined the French version of your Unspeakables."

"Shit." Bill's jaw dropped. "Guess I should warn my boys you'd do worse than slap them."

Fleur let her magic darken her eyes a few hues. "Much worse. And I'm not the one they'll need to worry about."

Harry would kill them. His cold, hard green eyes glowed amongst her thoughts. He'd kill them all. And so he should. Anything between us and our sunset doesn't deserve mercy.

"I'm leaving." She locked her drawer with a tap of her wand. "I will see you tomorrow, if you feel the need to come and check I've not broken anything or lost any fingers."

"Right." Bill slid his chair back to its normal spot. "See you tomorrow, love." He strode away.

Fleur shot a dark look after him. Decent guy you might be, but you're pushing your luck. The last thing I need is Katie Bell seeing you try something and start whispering in Harry's ear. He panicked seeing us just having a conversation.

She took a deep breath and smothered a little flare of heat. "It wouldn't help her, anyway. Harry will never choose her over me."

Even if he seems to treat her almost the same. Their embrace spun "round and "round before her mind's eye. He has no trouble getting all close with her. I bet he tells her his secrets too. He talks to her about me, after all.

Fleur closed her eyes and pictured a wild, unkempt field beneath lime trees and a dying pine, apparating into wet grass and scattered poppies. A tangle of dark-leafed, white-flowered rhododendrons screened everything but the chimneys and roof of the house from view.

She disillusioned herself and crept through the sweet-scented bushes to where a low wall ran between the wild grass and neattrimmed flat lawn. The damp and cold soaked through her shoes and socks into her feet. That's where I would put a ward, if I was going to put one up. She stretched her sense of magic out and found the endless abyss of the Unyielding Shield Charm beneath the thin layers of anti-apparition and portkey wards. Impressive, but with both Harry and I, not a problem. And there's nothing to let anyone inside know someone's broken through the wards, either.

Three loud cracks rang out across the grass. A trio of figures appeared before the wall a dozen steps along and the Fianto Duri wavered and vanished. Two silver masks shone either side of a blank white one.

"I really don't want to go back there." The middle figure's silver mask gleamed in the sunlight. "They've not put any of the wards back up, sure, but the place is still a death trap."

"There's nobody down there but caretakers, Rookwood." Nott's dark robes faded away to reveal smart blue ones and he tucked his silver mask away beneath them. "Grindelwald killed all the real Unspeakables. First thing he did when we got involved in the war. Fudge and all the idiots that've run the place since then have refused to spend any money on restarting it."

"That we know of," Rookwood said. "Could be a couple down there waiting for me tomorrow. I can't even wait until the evening, because I'm supposed to cause trouble during the lunchtime shift change as a decoy before I leave."

Tomorrow lunchtime. Silver mask means inner circle, too. She scowled. I'll have to be working then. Merde.

The third figure vanished with another loud crack.

"Jugson's pissed." Nott laughed a rough laugh. "Don't think he's pleased with the Dark Lord's comeback."

"He's pissed because the Dark Lord has stuck us out here and said we can't talk to anyone." Rookwood balled his fists and kicked at the grass. "He wanted to go have some fun with muggles."

Fleur pursed her lips, then apparated back home onto the landing. "Mon Cœur?" She knocked upon the door to the spare room. "I know you're brooding in here."

Harry pulled the door open and smiled at her. Runes of purple flame hovered in the air behind him. "You're back early."

Fleur watched the runes flicker and narrowed her eyes at him. "Did I interrupt you doing something dangerous that you decided not to tell me about?"

Harry twitched. "You interrupted me planning to do something dangerous I hadn't quite gotten around to telling you everything about."

Fleur pushed him back into the room with one finger and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "What is it?" She closed her eyes. A swirling ball of intent surrounded her like the eyewall of a storm; its winds throbbed like a racing heartbeat. "What does it do?"

"Decreases my recovery time." Harry swept the runes away with his wand. "One of the ones in Salazar's book. I've tweaked it a bit today to make sure it works for me."

Fleur stole his chair and rested her heels on the desk, pulling her shoes off one at a time and setting them on the floor. "I visited the Nott house just now."

"Oh?" Harry stepped behind her and massaged her back with his thumbs. "Anything interesting?"

"Two things." Fleur closed her eyes and let out a little sigh as his fingers worked into her muscles. "One, the wards are strong, but not very smart, so we'll have no trouble getting in. Two, Rookwood, who's not on your list, seems to be in the inner circle and is slipping into the Department of Mysteries tomorrow."

"I'm not really doing much tomorrow," Harry murmured. "I could hang about and wait for Rookwood if the aurors don't catch him first. I don't know anything about him, do you?"

"I know he's going during the shift change for the aurors at lunch and he's one of the ones that got broken out of Azkaban." Fleur leant her head back and gave him a warm smile. "That feels really good. Keep doing that."

"I guess I can ambush him." Harry yawned and pressed a kiss to her forehead, running his hands down her back until all the stiffness melted away from her body. "At the very least, it's one less inner circle member to worry about."

"And no doubt you're happy I can't come," she accused.

"A little bit." Harry shot her a rueful grin. "I like knowing you're safe."

A small pout crept onto her lips. "Well, I'm going to go take a shower and then play with my new toy."

"Ah." A gleam of curiosity sprang up in Harry's eyes. "Your box."

"My box." Fleur bounced out of her chair and plucked her shoes off the desk. "But now, I could really use a warm shower, my feet are cold and wet."

"You want to cook something, or wait for Gabby?" Harry called.

"Wait for Gabby." Fleur poked her head back in through the door. "We might decide to go somewhere nice in France.

Discord is still a thing. Audiobooks are also still a thing. All the links are on my profile and on discord, including how to support me and read my original works! Discord is the best place to get updates and find about everything I do, so do check it out if you're interested!

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A Rook of Wood

Disclaimer : Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's. Still.

AN : Another shorter one, but we're getting to the good stuff now!

A Rook of Wood

The golden statues gleamed in the fountain as Harry slipped through the atrium beneath his Disillusionment Charm and into the elevator beside a slim, lanky wizard with a box of files in his arms. Red-robed hit wizards clustered at the entrances, wands in their hands.

The lanky wizard elbowed one of the buttons.

"Internal Affairs," the automated voice announced.

Harry studied the inside of the elevator. Seems like they fixed all the damage. He stared at the ceiling until the doors pinged and the wizard stumbled out. Department of Mysteries time. Harry pushed the button and waited.

"Floor thirteen," the female voice said.

"Thanks." Harry slipped out and strode down the corridor toward the ruined entrance. "I guess they haven't fixed this." He cast a quick revealing charm, but nothing appeared, so he leant against the wall. "Time to wait, then."

He spun his wand in his hand and watched the elevator doors while time trickled by. One more horcrux. The stone. Harry closed his eyes and let the sunset hover among his thoughts. And then we're free. Blood spread over white tiles before his mind's eye and Dobby's faint smile vanished in the flames. Until we die. His gut knotted. Then the emptiness has us forever.

The elevator pinged.

Five dark-robed figures stepped out. Four white masks surrounded one gleaming silver one.

"Hurry up," Rookwood snapped. "We go in. We take anything useful. We get out. Don't touch anything unless I say so. If you see a time turner, let me know. They're our priority."

I destroyed all the time-turners. Harry curled his fingers into the silk of his cloak and raised his wand. No Fiendfyre down here. It'll bring the place down on my head. He waited as they approached, holding his breath and flattening himself against the wall.

The last white-masked Death Eater stepped past in a wash of wet wool reek.

Harry pulled off the cloak. "Ardens flagello."

A wave of purple fire swept from the end of his wand.

A Death Eater disappeared beneath it writhing and screaming, then the fire splashed off Rookwood's shield. Harry batted away a handful of orange curses and transfigured the walls into spikes, wrinkling his nose at the stench of seared flesh.

"Confringo." One of the Death Eaters shattered the spines.

Harry's piercing curses punched through him, spattering them all in steaming gore. Brown spells sailed over his shoulder and scorched small holes into the wall. He deflected a few back at them, slipping his own spells into the mix until they threw up shining, silver shields.

"Fuck this," Rookwood snarled, turning on his heel and sprinting through the ruined door. "You two kill him. I'll get what we need."

Harry poured magic into his spells as the two Death Eaters retreated after Rookwood, hammering curses into their Shield Charms until their light wavered and they guttered out. The pair threw themselves through the nearest door.

"There's no way out of here." He stepped after them, sparing a glance for the whispering archway. "Except past me."

"What do you want?!" The closest tore off his white mask. "Whatever you want, just tell us! You can have it!"

Harry slashed his wand forward and stuffed the invisibility cloak under his clothes. The basilisk's maw closed over them, sending shredded corpses splattering across the stone benches like rag dolls, and he sprinted back out after Rookwood's fading footsteps.

Rookwood kicked at the sealed door, saw Harry, then swore and bolted into the Hall of Prophecies.

Back here again. Harry stepped in after him.

"You're the sort of wizard who ends up down here, you know."

Rookwood's voice drifted through the shelves of glowing white orbs. "I came down here, but only to look after the place. You belong. "

Harry prowled through the prophecies, breathing in the soft cool must. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Rookwood's sneer echoed through the shelves. "You sound like that mad bitch, Bellatrix. The Dark Lord never favoured me like he did her or the others. I had to earn this silver mask."

"I killed her." Harry tracked Rookwood's voice through the gloom. "I'm going to kill you."

Derisive laughter drifted through the pale, gleaming spheres. "No you aren't. I know this place pretty well. This mask I earnt. I earnt it down here. Six long fucking years rotting in the dust for that silver trinket."

"Then you know there's no way out." Harry peered through the rows of predictions and spun his wand in his hand, then strode back to the entrance. "And if you're going to play hide and seek, I'll just wait by the door…"

A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye.

He twisted "round and batted away a bright orange curse; it smashed through the shelves, leaving a trail of white ghosts and a cacophony of prophecies. Rookwood dived behind a stack of shelves. Harry hurled piercing hexes through it, sending shards of glass hissing through the air.

White mist swirled over Rookwood and silence hung over the Hall of Prophecies.

Back to hiding. Harry retreated toward the door one step at a time, glass fragments crunching beneath his feet.

A faint shimmer darted past his shoulder.

Merde. Harry twisted "round and unleashed a barrage of spells.

Rookwood's disillusionment charm faded and a shining silver shield weathered the hail of Harry's spells. "Good luck getting out." He reached out and touched a finger to one of the prophecies.

Double merde. Harry hurled another pair of spells after Rookwood, scorching the walls of the corridor. His third spell put a fist-sized hole in the elevator door as Rookwood ascended out of sight. The aurors will be here in a few seconds. And they'll probably seal the exit off and sweep this place for disillusioned wizards.

"No point sneaking." He thrust his wand back into his sleeve and conjured long, dark robes and a plain white mask to conceal himself. Harry closed his eyes and wrenched at the world; his magic scrabbled at thick, strong wards. "And only one way out."

The elevator pinged and a group of red-robed wizards charged out behind bright shield charms. Harry grit his teeth and clawed at the ward, crushing it down. Spells flashed past. A ray of blue light seared through his thigh and sent him staggering back against the wall.

The world spun past him and he stumbled across the kitchen floor, spattering blood across the cupboard full of saucepans. The stinging throb in his leg swelled to a crescendo and he sank down to the floor, poking a finger around the edge of the smoking hole.

"That… did not go well." He sighed. "Vulnera sanentur."

The throb in his thigh faded away.

Harry vanished his conjured robes and mask, then kicked his jeans off. "Better not let Fleur see that hole or she'll melt my face off."

"Better not let me see what, mon Cœur?" Fleur stepped in from the hall, a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand. "Unfortunately for you, I'm on my lunch break…"

"Ah." Harry shot her a rueful grin. "So. To sum up. Rookwood got away. Some auror made a hole in my leg. And I had to break the wards to apparate out, so I'm going to feel dead tired when the adrenaline wears off."

Fleur's lips thinned and her eyes darkened to midnight blue. "Did you… improvise? "

"Nope." He grinned and repaired the hole in the front, then turned the jeans over and mended the one in the back. "I didn't even really have a plan to begin with, this time."

"It went all the way through?" Fleur's eyes flashed black and she swatted him over the head with the newspaper. "You have no sense of danger!" The newspaper burst into flames, scattering to ashes, and white feathers burst through her skin. "How do you think I feel?! Waiting, knowing you might do something stupid and reckless enough that you won't come back!"

Guilt twisted beneath his ribs. "Fleur…"

She dusted ash from her hands and crossed her arms, crumpling white feathers against her stomach. "How would you like it if I came back with a hole in me?"

He flinched. "It's not the same."

"Not for you."

"Not for you!" He hauled his jeans back on. "I've been hurt before. I'll endure. I'll drag myself back to you even if I'm nothing but a charred corpse!"

"I don't care." Fleur reached out and caught his chin in her fingers, tilting his head up to hers. "You don't get to take risks with our sunset, mon Cœur. Not without talking to me first. If you die, our perfect dream dies, too."

He swallowed. "But if we don't kill Voldemort-"

"Some auror put a hole through you." She closed her eyes and forced the feathers back beneath her skin. "You think Voldemort won't do worse if you go off to fight him blindly?"

Harry stifled a chill. "I was trying not to think about fighting him at all." He shivered. "I spoke to Salazar about it once. The will behind his magic, the power in his spells, all driven by what he's sacrificed, what he endured."

"What has he sacrificed?" Fleur swept her hair back over her shoulder. "What has he endured that you haven't, mon Amour."

"He's sacrificed everything. "

"Why?" Fleur breathed.

A girl in thick-framed glasses strode down a London street in the eye of Harry's mind. "I don't know… Perhaps, perhaps after everyone turned on him and there were no more wishes left, there was no perfect girl to save him."

When all the dreams are gone, nothing's left. A little shudder rippled down his spine and his wand turned hot within his sleeve. There's only power.

Fleur's eyes softened and faded to sky blue. "It doesn't matter what his dream is or was," she whispered. "He's standing between us and the sunset."

She's right. It doesn't matter. Harry closed his eyes.

A shadow hovered before the dipping crescent of the red sun, the scattered, warped recollection of a handful of dreams. It spread its arms and green light flickered through the storm clouds like lightning.

Neither can live… He smothered the twist of fear. There's no choice. He dies. Or our dream does.

Discord is still a thing. Audiobooks are also still a thing. All the links are on my profile and on discord, including how to support me and read my original works! Discord is the best place to get updates and find about everything I do, so do check it out if you're interested!

But if you don't fancy hunting, there's always this one below.

discord. gg / 7D7dWjzKac