CHAPTER 22: STRUGGLE BENEATH THE WAVES

As bands of unyielding steel seemed to tighten their grip around her lungs, Fleur found herself trapped in a nightmarish vice of suffocation. Dark spots ominously floated in her vision, draining the vibrant colors from the serene lake that surrounded her. Dizziness overtook her senses, swirling around her head like a relentless cloud of summer midges.

Desperation surged within her as she clung to the image of Gabby's face, an anchor in this perilous moment. "Just a little longer," she willed herself, even as the dark spots continued to expand, threatening to obscure the entire lake. Her lungs screamed for air, each breath growing more elusive.

"I mustn't breathe, or I'll drown. I mustn't breathe, or I'll drown," Fleur fought against the reflex with unwavering determination. Sparks of blinding white danced before her eyes, and she braved a deep breath. The frigid water flooded into her, a searing and freezing sensation as if she had ingested shards of frozen razors.

In this dire situation, Fleur summoned her magic to her aid. "If I can't reach the air, the air must reach me," she thought, meticulously picturing the water both within and above her lungs. With a powerful incantation, "Evanesco," her magic was ripped from her as if by some ethereal fist, and sweet, blissful air rushed to fill the void. The encroaching black spots in her vision gradually receded.

But her ordeal was far from over. A colossal, ten-meter wall of ominous black water loomed ever closer. Panic surged as she thought, "I won't make it." Clutching her wand, she took a deep breath and prepared for the impact.

The water assaulted her from both sides, spinning her like a discarded doll, leaving her profoundly dizzy. Fleur blinked, struggling to regain her bearings. "Keep swimming up," she urged herself. "I was nearly there." Kicking her way towards the inky surface, she pushed through the disorienting currents.

A stream of silvery bubbles emanated from her nose and lips, descending past her chin into the depths of the bright lake. Confusion struck. "Bubbles don't sink," she realized. Fleur frantically turned herself around and burst through the surface, gasping for lungfuls of precious air as she floated on her back atop the tranquil lake. Her thoughts raced to Gabby, a beacon of hope in the midst of this aquatic turmoil.

Her stomach and heart seemed to coil and twist around one another, a painful knot of anxiety. The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on her, and her eyes welled up with a burning heat. Fleur propelled herself towards the shore, using the last shreds of her magic to cast warming charms in an attempt to combat the frigid water.

Desperation engulfed her. "Please, let Harry have saved her," she silently prayed, her heart heavy with guilt over enthralling and kissing him. A hard lump formed in her throat, and unbidden tears streaked down her cheeks, dripping into the lake. "Fleur Delacour doesn't cry," she reminded herself, even as the hot tears betrayed her resolve.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she swam fiercely, each stroke bringing the distant shore closer into view. The cold and exhaustion settled deep into her bones, and her tears merged with the spray of her struggle.

Reaching the platform, Fleur's strength failed her as she tried to pull herself out of the water. In her moment of weakness, Madam Pomfrey came to her rescue, levitating her from the lake and bathing her in warming charms.

"Come with me, Miss Delacour," Madam Pomfrey urged, leading her away from the water's edge.

Fleur's eyes darted around in search of her sister. The cheering crowd and the judges in their box created a cacophonous backdrop, while the medical tent sat just beyond the shore.

"Gabby?" Fleur's voice trembled as she stumbled after Madam Pomfrey, allowing the mediwitch to support her with one hand. "Where's Gabby? My sister? Where is she?"

Madam Pomfrey's response offered little solace. "Anyone who comes out of the lake will be brought straight to this tent. You'll see your sister quickest by staying here."

Fleur's frustration bubbled up. "No, I won't. I'll see her quickest if I'm near the lake," she protested, struggling to free herself.

Madam Pomfrey sighed and firmly guided her inside the tent. "I'm sorry, Miss Delacour, but if I let you wait out there in the cold in your state, you may seriously harm yourself. You're in shock as it is."

Fleur's retort was swift, though wavering. "I'm not in shock." She found herself seated on a bed not far from the entrance, and a gentle warmth began to seep into her bones. "I want to see my sister!"

Her gaze shifted to the corner of the tent, where Viktor Krum lay on a bed, covered in hundreds of small bite marks. Hermione, Harry's former friend, lay asleep in the bed adjacent to his.

Fleur's lower lip trembled, and the tears she had kept at bay threatened to return. Madam Pomfrey, with her wand, traced a comforting path over Fleur's lips and lower face. "Just soft tissue damage. Easily fixed," she assured. A soothing warmth spread through Fleur's face.

Fleur's resolve solidified. "I'd slice my face off for Gabby without a second thought," she thought, her determination unwavering.

Madam Pomfrey offered Fleur a mouthful of something thick, sticky, and sweet, which turned out to be marzipan. "The warming charms will keep your temperature up until you've got some energy back and your body can do it itself," she explained, her motherly concern evident.

With some effort, Fleur managed to choke down the marzipan. Despite her own physical distress, her primary concern remained her sister. "Gabby?" she inquired, her voice filled with desperation.

"You'll feel much better soon. I'm sure your sister's fine," Madam Pomfrey reassured her before turning her attention to Viktor Krum.

The mediwitch strode across the room to the injured champion, muttering incantations under her breath. Fleur watched as the bite marks on Krum's torso gradually faded away. Then, Viktor Krum, visibly remorseful, shifted and addressed her. "I am sorry for the curse, da. I get competitive, things got out of hand."

Fleur's anxiety flared, and she couldn't hold back her pressing questions. "What happened to Gabby and Harry?" she asked, her voice quivering with unease.

Viktor Krum closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. "When I left, she was still a hostage of those merpeople. Harry may have saved her. He swims slower than me, and I had a head start, so he's not back yet."

Just then, a silver cat bounded into the tent through the entrance flaps, sitting up on its haunches and delivering a message in the distinctive Scottish accent of the stern transfiguration professor.

Madam Pomfrey swiftly exited the tent, and Fleur couldn't help but wonder if the professor had gone to find Harry. Viktor Krum's thoughts were on the same track as hers. "She must have gone to get Harry," he mused, massaging his back with his palm. "I hope he is okay. I owe him revenge for all the bites in the next task."

"The bites?" Fleur echoed, her stomach roiling with anxiety, her gaze locked on the tent flap as if willing it to reveal some news about her sister and Harry.

"Please have saved Gabby, Harry," Fleur silently pleaded, her heart heavy with worry for her sister.

Viktor Krum chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Da, the fish. He transfigured all the pebbles around me into aggressive fish. They had very sharp teeth. I owe him a curse or two, I think."

Fleur couldn't help but express her concern. "He's only fourteen," she murmured, her voice tinged with both admiration and worry.

Viktor Krum offered an insightful perspective. "He was holding his own against me for several minutes before you disarmed him, and I think he was holding back. Every spell he cast was a minor curse or hex. He hit me a couple of times, and had he used some of the more powerful curses I'm sure he knows, I would still be in the lake."

Cedric Diggory, recovering from his own ordeal, inquired about their experiences. "I wonder what our scores will be? Did you guys all make it there and back?"

Viktor Krum replied in the affirmative, but Fleur's voice dropped to a whisper. "No."

Her thoughts raced with worry. "Where is Harry? Where is Gabby? Why is the nurse taking so long?"

Cedric Diggory, now noticing the absence of Harry, asked, "Where's Harry?"

Viktor Krum provided an explanation. "The nurse went to get him."

Anxious and impatient, Fleur struggled to get dressed in her Beauxbatons uniform, her trembling fingers making even the simplest task a challenge.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey entered the tent with a small, reassuring smile on her lips, followed by Katie Bell. Fleur's heart sank when she didn't see Harry with them.

Harry eventually staggered through the tent flap, his complexion pallid and trembling. In his arms, he cradled Gabby, who was asleep with a peaceful smile on her lips.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Fleur whispered, "You saved her." A lump formed in her throat, and she fought back tears. "Merci."

Harry gently laid Gabby on the bed beside his and accepted the proffered Pepper-Up potion from Madam Pomfrey with a weary yet wry smile.

Madam Pomfrey, her expression stern, addressed Harry's reckless actions. "I do not expect, Mr. Potter, to see such a dangerous use of self-transfiguration in all the rest of my life. You turned your lungs into some horrible parody of gills, restructured the entire musculature of your chest, and thought it would have no consequences."

Harry, acknowledging his recklessness with a nod and a roll of his eyes, turned away and covered his mouth with his hand. A raw, harsh cough erupted from his throat, and Fleur glimpsed a spatter of crimson on his palm before Madam Pomfrey quickly ushered him to sit down.

As Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's chest with her wand, she continued her scolding. "Professor Dumbledore told me you decided to pick a fight with a whole tribe of merpeople and razed almost a sixth of the lake bed. No doubt all the dust you breathed in as well as the pressure of your magic damaged your transfigured lungs. I've fixed you as best I can, but some of the damage has come back with the reversion. You'll likely have that cough for the next week or so. Maybe it will remind you that we can't just put you back together every time you try something so reckless."

Harry appeared as if he wanted to object but bent over to cough into his hand, the deep, wet sounds tearing from his throat, and red flecks dotted his palm.

Fleur winced at his condition and felt a mix of emotions. She realized that the only reason the merpeople would have interfered was to uphold the rules. Her gaze shifted to her peacefully sleeping sister. "Which means he did that for me," she thought, her heart aching with gratitude. She quickly turned away, discreetly wiping the corners of her eyes.

Seeking reassurance about her sister's well-being, Fleur murmured, "Is my sister okay?"

Madam Pomfrey promptly checked both Katie and Gabby with her wand. "They're both perfectly fine," she confirmed.

Overcome with emotion and gratitude, Fleur stumbled from her bed and sat down next to Harry. She embraced him tightly. "Merci, Harry," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. "Vraiment. Merci."

However, Harry stiffened and edged out of her embrace, his reaction unexpected and complex.

Fleur winced as her attempt at reconciliation fell flat, and she drew back, her words dying on her tongue. The atmosphere grew tense, and Harry's eyes turned cold and unyielding as he responded, "That's okay, Fleur. I'm sure any boy in my place would've ended up doing the exact same." He flashed a bright yet unsettling smile, sending shivers down her spine.

Reeling from Harry's unexpected reaction, Fleur felt stung and confused. "What?" she managed to utter before Harry's cold satisfaction became apparent.

"He's glad he hurt me," Fleur realized, her heart aching, and hot, angry tears filled her eyes. "I don't understand."

Viktor Krum's interruption provided a brief reprieve. "The scores are being announced," he announced, drawing their attention.

Harry, sporting a small, bitter smile, decided to leave the tent, and his icy tone cut through the air. "Shall we go see what I got, Fleur?"

Fleur couldn't help but wonder why Harry seemed so angry. She contemplated her actions, including the kiss, and couldn't fathom the depth of his resentment. Her gaze shifted to her sister Gabby and then to Katie Bell, who remained asleep.

An overwhelming sense of betrayal coursed through Fleur. "You did something, didn't you?" she thought, her anger flaring. "After the Yule Ball, when I tried to avoid things, you went after him and turned him against me. You must have."

"Come on, Fleur," Harry's voice drifted back from outside, sounding both inviting and chilling. "Don't you want to see our scores?"

Inwardly, Fleur realized it was too late to fix things. She perceived Harry's hatred towards her and concluded that he despised her. Her anger dissolved into sadness and resignation, but she wouldn't let herself cry. "Fine," she thought. "Just me, then. As always. Fleur Delacour doesn't cry." She wiped her tears away, composed herself, and stepped out of the tent, ready to face whatever the scores revealed.

Cedric Diggory, with a grin, shared his score. "I got forty. After my Bubble-Head charm exploded, I feared I would do the worst again."

Viktor Krum, curious, inquired about Cedric's performance. "You were there first?"

Cedric nodded and explained, "I went for speed, but my adaptation of the Bubble-Head charm failed; it still exploded when a grindylow pierced it."

Meanwhile, Harry remained lost in thought, staring off into the distance beyond the judges' box. Viktor Krum assessed the situation and noted, "Da, I see. You lost points because you didn't return to the finish, but did better than the rest of us elsewhere."

As the judges conjured Fleur's score, she counted along with them. "Thirty-six," she noted, accepting her score with mixed emotions.

Ludo Bagman's booming voice filled the arena as he announced Harry's score. "For an innovative and exceptional piece of transfiguration, and for being one of only two champions to return with their hostage, we award Mr. Potter forty points." The spectators murmured in surprise, and a tremor crossed Harry's face as he stared at the number four conjured by Barty Crouch. His green eyes brimmed with fury.

Mr. Crouch, stern and unyielding, explained Harry's loss of points. "Had Mr. Potter not interfered with the hostage of another champion, I would have no reason to remove points. As it is, he disobeyed the rules and must pay the penalty."

Fleur's heart sank further. She couldn't help but think that Katie had successfully turned Harry against her. "No wonder Katie managed to turn him against me," she thought. "Every time he helps me, he gets set back."

Ludo Bagman continued with the final results. "The winner of the second task and the new highest-scoring champion is Viktor Krum, whose brilliant piece of transfiguration and swift return with his hostage grant him a score of forty-four." Bagman then turned his attention to his argument with Mr. Crouch.

Viktor Krum appeared elated by his lead. "Now I am winning, da?"

Cedric Diggory pointed out the closeness of their scores. "Eighty-six," he counted for Krum, himself, Harry, Fleur, and the others. "Eighty-two. Eighty. Seventy-four. We're all close enough for the last task to decide everything."

Viktor Krum, still grinning, teased Harry about the underwater fish encounter. "I owe you for those fish. They had nasty teeth."

Harry chuckled, but his demeanor remained distant. His gaze shifted between Fleur and the ongoing dispute between Mr. Crouch and Ludo Bagman. "I'm much better above water," he commented, his gaze briefly meeting Fleur's. "And I really, really want to win now."

Fleur's internal struggle intensified. She wished she hadn't kissed him, but she also knew that deep down, she wanted to fix the situation. "It can be fixed. Everything can be fixed. It just won't be easy," she thought, determined.

Maman's reassuring words pulled her from her thoughts. "You can still win," her mother encouraged. "Four points is nothing. There'll be ample opportunity to outdo them in the next task. You did well, Fleur, especially in such an adverse environment."

Fleur muttered in response, her thoughts consumed by doubts. "If it had been real, Gabby would be gone," she lamented. The question of why Harry had saved her sister, despite the apparent hostility Katie had stirred between them, lingered heavily in her mind.

Maman's revelation about Gabby's safety eased Fleur's concerns. "Gabby was never in danger. When they asked us who you would be most determined to save, your sister volunteered. We were assured that she would be in no danger."

Fleur, resolved to maintain her determination, forced her pride to resurface. "Good," she replied with newfound determination. "I'll still win."

Meanwhile, Harry swiveled on his heel and walked back toward the castle, with Katie Bell hastily chasing after him. Fleur watched Katie's pursuit and felt a sense of bitterness in her mouth. "I've not lost yet," she thought. She suppressed the simmering heat and the feathers that seemed to ripple under her skin. "I don't lose to petty, shallow, lying little girls. Not anymore."

Gabby emerged from the tent, and Fleur's heart lifted. "Gabby!"

In response, Gabby shook her head and reassured her sister. "Nuh uh. It's better this way. You'll see."

Fleur understood the difference between real life and her mother's stories. She stifled a sigh and put on a smile. "Come on, little chick. Let's go find some hot chocolate and something sweet."

Gabby beamed and inquired about their mother. "Maman?"

Fleur gently redirected her. "You two go. I need to speak with Madame Maxime." She allowed Gabby to lead her toward the carriage.

During their walk, Fleur asked her sister about her cravings. "What do you fancy?"

Gabby, with a hint of mischief, revealed her knowledge. "Cherries. I know you have some."

Fleur couldn't help but chuckle. "Because you turned over my entire room searching?"

Gabby giggled and teased her. "And I bet they're not the only cherries you're thinking of giving away, huh, big sister?"

Fleur choked at the suggestive comment. "Don't let maman hear you talking like that. Where did you even pick that up?"

Gabby's laughter filled the air. "Maman. Her romance stories have all sorts of steamy bits in as well."

The mischievous glimmer returned to Gabby's eyes, and she couldn't resist asking, "So, Fleur? Did you talk to him?"

Fleur let out a sigh of exasperation. "He hates me. And that is all I'm going to say."

Gabby, ever the optimist, furrowed her brow. "Then he must not know you very well. You need to talk to him more; otherwise, he won't be able to realize he's wrong."

Fleur, feeling a mounting frustration, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gabby, I love you dearly, but if you don't leave this be, I'm going to hex you until you can't sit down."

Gabby responded with a mischievous giggle. "No, you won't," she sang. "Because then I'll go steal Harry for myself. He did save me."

Fleur knew Gabby was teasing, but the situation with Harry was far from simple. "And he's not happy about it," she thought, her concerns deepening. "He probably thinks I enthralled him again. And I bet Katie Bell keeps reminding him of it at every chance she gets."

In an attempt to steer the conversation away from her complex relationship with Harry, Fleur made a request. "If you want to help, you can take my mind off it by not talking about it."

Gabby reluctantly agreed. "Fine. You owe me cherries, though."

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