CHAPTER 23: THE ENCHANTED CRUCIBLE

Harry observed the staircase as it swung back in his direction, meandering its way through a group of apprehensive first-year students. They cast furtive glances in his direction and exchanged hushed whispers that included his name.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes in mild exasperation as he confidently stepped onto the shifting stairwell.

"Got you," Katie announced with a hint of mischievousness, maneuvering herself behind the cluster of younger students and joining Harry on the moving staircase.

Harry casually glanced over the side, observing the daunting descent spanning several floors. "I suppose you have," he replied with a raised eyebrow, acknowledging the daring nature of her actions. "Bit of a risky move, that."

Katie's smile wavered, her nervousness showing. "I – um – I have a lot of things to say," she admitted, her voice growing hesitant. "I probably won't be able to say all of it before the stairs swing back…"

Harry understood that there was no escaping this conversation. He offered Katie a faint, encouraging smile. "I guess I'll have to wait, then."

"Thank you," Katie murmured, her fingers idly toying with the skin around her knuckle, her knuckles paling under the pressure. "I suppose I should start with the tournament. Professor McGonagall came to me and asked if I would be your hostage. She said the hostage had to be someone you'd be most determined to save, someone you'd dearly miss. Harry, you're still very important to me."

Harry nodded, remembering the perilous underwater task and his decision to rescue her. "I did save you," he admitted, his voice tinged with humor. "I must confess, I did briefly consider leaving you to live as a mermaid. But there's no Quidditch underwater. I was afraid you'd never forgive me."

Katie grinned, a brief smile touching her lips. "I would never have forgiven you," she declared. "Although, I think I would have made quite the mermaid. I've got the right hips for it. I'd just need a seashell bra."

Harry's gaze dropped momentarily from Katie's face, and he raised an eyebrow with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Well, you don't need a seashell bra," he quipped, his tone playful. "I'm quite certain nobody would complain if you went without it."

Katie burst into laughter. "I bet they wouldn't."

As the stairs came to a stop, Harry stepped onto the lower set, and Katie looked at him, a faint frown creasing her brow. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled her down onto the step beside him just as the staircase swung away, leaving them in solitude for their conversation.

"Let's head over to the Quidditch pitch," Harry suggested. "We can have our conversation there without anyone eavesdropping."

Katie squirmed but agreed. Together, they wandered through the corridors and stepped out into the refreshing spring air. As they strolled across the grass, they carefully navigated around the budding spring flowers.

Once they reached the Quidditch stands, Harry gestured for Katie to take the lead. "Go on, then. You've been chasing me, after all."

Katie shuffled her feet and fiddled with her little finger, a gesture of nervousness. "Can we be friends again? Will you forgive me for going with Roger Davies and acting so foolishly?"

Harry contemplated her request, recognizing that forgiving didn't necessarily mean forgetting. "No, I won't forgive you for overreacting. Davies just wanted revenge on me for getting Fleur Delacour's attention when he couldn't, and she…" Harry's voice caught as he buried the memory of Fleur's blue eyes. "She just wanted to win."

"But we'll be friends?" Katie asked, her demeanor tinged with uncertainty.

In Harry's gaze, he saw the reflection of his guarded emotions. "Definitely. You proved that you still cared when you nearly became a mermaid. I just wanted to be clear... in case you were about to ask me to Hogsmeade again."

Katie fidgeted. "You looked very lonely. I wanted to go and speak with you, but Angelina and Alicia thought it was a bad idea."

"They were probably right," Harry admitted. "If you hadn't agreed to help me with the task, I might not have believed you. I find it very hard to trust people a second time."

Katie whispered, "I'm not surprised, Harry. But I won't let you down again. I promise, yeah. Not again. And it's okay that you don't want to date me, too. I'm not mad or anything. We kind of messed that up."

"Yeah, we did," Harry sighed. "A shame, really. It was really good until it wasn't."

Katie nodded, a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "But I meant what I said, Harry. I won't let you down. I won't do anything foolish like that again. I won't choose anything over our friendship."

"You will," Harry murmured. "But I expect some things to be chosen above me now. Everyone has goals, dreams, and people more dear to them than others. As long as I know where I stand on your scale and think it's fair, then I'll never be disappointed or hurt. I've got my own scale now, too, so it's all even."

A small smile curved on Katie's lips, and then she playfully jumped up. "Want to see what I look like when I'm not wearing a seashell bra?"

Harry blushed and stammered, "Er?"

"I look like this, silly!" Katie cackled. "What, did you think I was about to pull my top up and flash you? We're not even dating, Harry. A boy's got to ask me out before anything like that happens."

Harry snorted and quickly checked the time. "Okay, you got me. I have to go help Nev, Katie. I'll catch you later."

"Be gentle with him," Katie whispered. "He seems fragile now. I heard that when he met Mr. Crouch in the hallways, he accidentally set fire to every tapestry within ten feet of him."

"Nev?" Harry studied her expression, detecting no trace of mischief in her eyes. "He did violent, accidental magic at our age?"

"What on earth could've pushed him so far?" Harry wondered, furrowing his brow. "I really don't know anything about Nev at all, do I?"

"I heard it from Alicia, who said she heard Malfoy and Ron arguing about it," Katie replied. "Apparently, Malfoy was going on about how he heard Neville couldn't even perform accidental magic as a child. There's some story about Neville's family trying to provoke him into doing some when he was a baby, and Malfoy was spreading it around. Ron had to be dragged away by Seamus and Dean."

"When was this?" Harry demanded.

"A few days ago. I can't believe you didn't hear about it. The whole school's talking about it," Katie explained.

"I've kind of stopped listening to rumors. It makes my life easier," Harry sighed. "How's Nev been?"

"I haven't really seen him," Katie said. "You know how he is with girls. He stutters twice as much even talking to Hermione, and I'm fairly sure Hermione's as asexual as the venomous tentacula. I don't think anyone has. Ron defended him, but it was more because he hates Malfoy than anything to do with Neville."

"I can't imagine Nev doing something like that."

"It's true. I've seen the walls on the fourth floor where the tapestries used to be."

"I should go meet him," Harry decided, standing up.

"When will I next be able to corner you?" Katie asked.

Harry grinned. "I'll be around. I'm sure you know where I turn up after stalking me for so long."

She beamed. "You can't hide from me, Harry!"

"I definitely can," Harry said and cast his disillusionment spell, fading from view.

"That explains a lot!" Katie yelled after him.

Harry hastened back up to the seventh floor, where Nev leaned against a tapestry opposite the Room of Requirement.

"There's an item of furnishing Hogwarts won't miss if he feels like setting fire to something else," Harry thought to himself.

"We're using the room?" Nev nodded toward the blank wall across from him.

"Yes," Harry confirmed.

"I found it over the last year," Nev said. "I often come to wander the school away from anyone, and not many people come up here. One time, I just wanted somewhere to be on my own, and the room appeared. How did you find it?"

"I knew it was here," Harry replied. "I came looking for it, and eventually I found it."

"Shall we go in?"

Harry smiled and gestured, "After you... Since you know how to use it and what you need better than I do."

As the door materialized on the stonework, Harry followed Nev inside, the empty stone stretching from floor to ceiling.

Nev hung his head. "I guess I don't really know what I want."

Harry grimaced, realizing that he was the one with the strongest desire, and the Room of Requirement was about to change. "Let's try again." He ushered Nev out of the door and slammed it shut, casting only a quick glance at the holly log fire. "And that's just the beginning of that room's lack of respect for personal privacy."

Nev stared at his feet. "Y-you're disappointed in me n-now, aren't you?"

"No," Harry reassured him.

"You're just saying that," Nev mumbled. "Everyone knows I'm not much of a wizard."

"You need to believe in yourself, Nev. If you expect to fail, it'll corrupt your intent," Harry advised.

"Would not much of a wizard be able to set an entire corridor alight without using his wand?" Harry pointed out.

Guilt flashed across Nev's face.

"I don't think they could," Harry continued. "You even rid the school of some terrible tapestries." He grinned and jabbed his thumb at the tap-dancing trolls. "If you'd got that one, you'd have your own award for special services to the school!"

Nev smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"You're strong," Harry insisted. "You just need to stop listening to the people who try to tell you otherwise. If you expect and visualize your spells failing, they will."

Neville hesitated, then burst out, "I'm not like you, Harry. I can't just be strong. I can't stand up to You-Know-Who, or basilisks, or anything like you've done."

"You're just like me, Nev," Harry said gently. "You've just not been stuck in a spot where you've had no choice but to ignore that little voice of doubt in the back of your head."

"What if I can't do it?" Neville asked, his voice trembling.

"How would you know until you've tried as hard as you're sure you can?" Harry challenged.

"I–"

"You don't," Harry asserted. "There's nothing to be gained from giving up, Neville. You're stronger and braver than half of the Gryffindors I've seen, and to prove it, you're going to call Voldemort by his real name."

Neville swallowed hard, but determination shone in his eyes.

"I can't do that," Neville shook his head. "Even Gran doesn't say his name."

"You will," Harry said firmly. "Repeat after me, Tom, Marvolo, Riddle."

Neville's brow creased. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"See, you, Neville Longbottom, just said Voldemort's real, original name. One he hates, one he'd probably try to kill you for saying if he knew. What happened when you said it, Nev?"

"Nothing," the boy mumbled.

"And nothing will happen next time you say it, or if you say Voldemort," Harry encouraged. "Go on."

"V-Voldemort," Neville muttered.

Harry grinned. "You're braver than your Gran. And I've heard she's a pretty formidable lady."

"But–"

"There are no 'buts,' Nev. You said the name, you were brave. If you can be brave when you thought you couldn't be, then you can be strong, too."

"But my magic always fails," he said. "I know it will."

"You knew that you couldn't say Voldemort a moment ago," Harry pointed out. "Forget what happened last time. Magic is about intent. If you want it to happen, if you focus and understand what you're trying to achieve, then you'll make it happen."

"I always want it to happen," Neville said.

"I'd bet you never believe it will, though."

Neville shuffled his feet. "Maybe."

"Believe it, Nev," Harry urged, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If you can set fire to a corridor without a wand, you have more than enough power to do a few spells."

"It's not the same," Neville whispered. "I was so angry when I saw him. It was like he thought he was better than the rest of us, striding down the corridor with his tight collar and self-righteous face. Nothing but disdain for everyone else. He judges everyone he sees like it's his right." Neville's face twisted. "He's got no right to, not when his own son was a monster!"

"His son is dead, isn't he?" Harry asked.

"Not dead enough," Neville hissed. "Not after what he did." He took a deep breath. "My parents were Aurors in the war. A group of Voldemort's followers tortured them with the Cruciatus Curse for hours. They don't even recognize me." A bitter smile crept onto Neville's lips. "I wanted to make them proud. I even use my father's wand, but they'll never be proud of some stranger. Why would they?"

Harry sympathized with Neville's plight. "That might be worse than having no parents at all. It's easy to pretend dead people would've loved you."

"What can I do about that, Harry?" Neville demanded.

"Nothing," Harry replied, causing Neville to flinch.

"Just like there's nothing I can do to bring my parents back," Harry continued. "You should be strong for yourself, your own reasons, and your own goals. I'd be proud of you for that, and I'm sure your parents would be proud of you as well. Your Gran, too. And if they aren't, then they should be."

"They'd be so disappointed if they could recognize me now," Neville mumbled. "Sometimes, I'm glad they can't, just so they don't have to be let down by me like Gran is. I'll never be as good as either of them."

Harry encouraged him, "You won't be as good as them if you give up, but if you believe in yourself, why can't you be better? You have all the tools you need. You can't deny you have enough magical power; you set a corridor on fire without using a wand. You just need to want it."

"Maybe I don't want it anymore," Neville muttered. "Maybe I've already given up."

Harry drew himself up, determined to help Neville overcome his self-doubt. "Let's give you some proof, Nev. You trust me, and I ought to trust you. I want you to open that door, Nev." He pointed at the empty wall. "The room will change for the one who wants things most if those using it aren't in unison. You don't doubt how much I want things, do you?"

Neville shook his head. "No, no, you've grown so strong."

"Then if the room changes and you want something even more than me, you'll be able to get strong, too."

Neville wrestled with the idea. "I guess so."

"You know so," Harry affirmed and willed the room back into existence. He twisted the handle of the door, revealing a surprising sight.

A hundred different reflections of Fleur Delacour looked down at them, her rare, warm smile and bright blue eyes shining from dozens of frames. They appeared to be leaning forward, a memory away from kissing him.

"Harry?" Neville's eyes flickered over the walls.

Harry gestured around the room. "The room has shown you what I want, as much as I'd rather it wouldn't. Now show me how much you want to be strong."

Fleur Delacour's image faded from the walls, replaced by shelves of spell books. Harry watched the pictures go with a bitter, sour heat in his heart. "A stupid thing to want. She just wants to win. She's proven that twice now. Better to want to help Nev. He can be trusted not to thrall me, at least."

"Well done, Nev," Harry said, appreciating the progress.

Neville gaped at the transformed room. "I did it. I – I actually did it."

"No, you didn't," Harry thought. "I changed the room. I wanted to help you help yourself. And as long as you believe in this, then you'll believe in yourself."

"Let's have a test," Harry suggested. "The Blasting Curse has the incantation 'reducto.'" He demonstrated the wand motion with his hand, then conjured a statue of Mr. Crouch. "Destroy it."

Neville's eyes burned with determination. "Reducto," he spat, sweeping his wand into a sharp V. The spell hissed across the room and obliterated the upper half of the statue into dust.

"Not bad for a first try," Harry praised. "You need to practice the wand motion a bit; it was over-exaggerated, but still a good first attempt. Better than mine, actually."

"Reducto," Neville cried again, this time with more confidence.

The remaining half of the statue exploded into shining grey dust.

"Well done," Harry said. "When you have a better grasp of the spell, you'll be able to control the power put into it and cast it silently."

To demonstrate, he drew two sharp, horizontal lines in the air with his wand, unleashing two silent Blasting Curses at an empty wall. The first fizzled out, but the second rippled across the wall, and a wave of hot air reflected back past them.

"I should practice," Neville said.

"Practice everything you think you need to, but don't forget how successful you were here when you're doing it on your own," Harry encouraged him.

"I won't," Neville said, still staring at the dust that had once been the statue of Barty Crouch Senior. "I only wish that I could've shown Barty Crouch he wasn't anything more than the father of a monster. He's disappeared. I heard Professor Sprout talking to Professor McGonagall about it this morning by the greenhouses."

"Has he," Harry murmured, a small, sly smile spreading across his lips. "What a terrible shame."

A gentle touch roused Fleur from her slumber, coaxing her to stir from beneath the cozy covers. She shifted to her side and, with a yawn, shrouded herself in the warmth of the bedspread.

"Time to wake up, Fleur!" The cheerful voice belonged to none other than Gabby.

Fleur, while not entirely thrilled with the wake-up call, reluctantly turned over and squinted at her younger sister. "You know I can't stand it when you do this. How did you even manage to sneak in here?"

Gabby, her enthusiasm uncontainable, bounced lightly on the balls of her feet and let out a giggle. "The carriage lets all Beauxbatons students in."

Fleur's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "But not my room." She retrieved her wand and confirmed that her protective wards were still in place. "You haven't taken them down. You haven't been able to do that for quite some time."

Gabby regarded the doorframe with newfound understanding. "You warded it?" She paused to sense the magical barrier. "Ah, now I feel it. I thought you'd either forgotten about them or had allowed me in."

"It's reminiscent of my room back at Beauxbatons," Fleur explained.

Gabby contemplated this, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Fleur, I'm growing up, and we're both quite similar as sisters and veela. I suppose we might even pass for each other now. Your ward isn't as foolproof as we thought."

Fleur let out a sigh. "It seems I'll need to reinforce the wards. I can't have you barging into my room whenever you please."

Gabby's face fell, disappointed by the prospect of stricter security measures.

Fleur followed her sister's gaze to her own chest. "It takes time, Gabby. They don't grow overnight," she replied with a hint of patience in her voice.

Gabby's disappointment was palpable as she pouted and clasped her hands to her own chest. "But it's already been so long. I want to be like you, Fleur. You're so much prettier than me. It's not fair."

Fleur offered reassurance, "You'll be just as beautiful as me, Gabby." She rummaged through her drawers in search of a clean bra. "And then you'll come to realize it's not as ideal as it may seem." She gently cupped her breasts, her fingers tracing the curves. "Boys tend to get fixated on these, and girls, well, they get envious."

"Only those who are already pretty don't care about being pretty," Gabby sulked briefly before her eyes lit up mischievously. "I bet Harry wouldn't be as fond of you if you weren't so pretty."

Fleur's response was matter-of-fact. "Harry doesn't seem very fond of me anyway. He's not that important."

This statement, however, only fueled Gabby's laughter. "Nuh uh, Fleur. I know you better than that. And even if I didn't, I still have a letter you sent me that says otherwise."

Fleur denied it with a smirk. "No, you don't."

Gabby's disappointment was evident as she patted down her pockets. "I was going to have so much fun showing that to maman and papa, and then..." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I was going to show it to Harry."

Fleur let out a sigh. "And that, Gabby, is precisely why I took it back. I love you, my little chick, but sometimes you're just too much trouble."

"Such a spoilsport," Gabby muttered playfully, her gaze wandering around Fleur's room.

Fleur offered a wry smile. "You won't find it. It's gone."

Gabby's eyes widened in disbelief. "You destroyed it? But if the letter is gone, how is Harry going to know you love him and come to find you?"

Fleur couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I burnt it. I think you've been delving too deeply into maman's romance novels again, Gabby. Real life doesn't quite work that way."

Gabby shrugged nonchalantly. "They're good books. Did you change your mind about him, though?"

Fleur's response was resolute. "I'm not going to pursue someone who dislikes me. Even in maman's books, it's usually the wizard who chases after the witch."

Gabby's eyes twinkled with mischief. "So, you don't want him, then? Can I have him instead? He's my age, and honestly, he's too young for you, Fleur."

Fleur's reply was swift and firm. "No, Gabby. You haven't even met him."

"But he saved me from the lake," Gabby said with a dreamy sigh, placing her hand over her heart and dramatically collapsing onto Fleur's bed. "Like a true hero."

Fleur couldn't help but snort in response. "You know very well you were never in any real danger."

"He didn't, and he still saved me, so either he's a hero, or..." Gabby looked up at Fleur with a hint of mischief in her gaze. "Or he had some other reason for saving your darling, baby sister."

Fleur's heart ached as she thought about Harry's actions. He saved you because it was the right thing to do, she silently admitted to herself. But he didn't do it for me. He can't have, not when he hates me.

Fleur couldn't let her sister continue down this line of thought. "Enough, Gabby," she said firmly. "Enough."

Gabby pouted but didn't push the matter further. "Do you think you're going to win?"

A small smile graced Fleur's lips. "I'm going to win," she declared confidently. "As always, remember? Where's maman? There's no way she would have allowed her little chick to wander off on her own, and you're not sneaky enough to get away yet."

Gabby countered with a grin, "You don't win when we play cards. I'm luckier than you. Maman is speaking with Madame Maxime again. She has to return to Carcassonne soon, but I'm almost as far ahead of everyone in my year as you were, and I want to stay to watch."

Fleur's heart swelled with warmth. "All the way to the end?" She couldn't hide her joy. "Really?"

Gabby nodded vigorously. "All the way until the third task. It's not as much fun at the chateaux without you, and I know you must miss me." She batted her eyelashes and playfully kicked her feet against Fleur's pillow. "Non?"

"Feeling lonely, huh, Gabby?" Fleur ruffled her sister's hair gently. "Me too, little sis."

"I hope Madame Maxime lets you stay," Gabby said with a hopeful smile.

Fleur nodded, her lips curving into a proud grin. "She will. I've received the highest marks in my classes since you took them."

Gabby's competitive spirit flared up. "Still trying to beat me." She playfully stuck her nose in the air. "Nobody beats me, baby sister. Not even you."

The sisters shared a playful exchange, each teasing the other about future accomplishments. "I'll beat you next year in the real exams," Gabrielle declared confidently.

Fleur responded with a supportive tone. "In some of them, I expect you will. You have a gentler touch with magic than I do. If you choose the right kind of enchantments, they might even surpass mine."

Gabby's eagerness to spend time with her older sister was apparent as she pleaded, "Let's go somewhere? Your room is so boring without all the little things you made."

Fleur considered the request. "I can create something for you if you'd like. It's probably best to stay around here so maman knows where you are and doesn't have to worry about you getting into trouble."

Gabby was quick to assure Fleur, "I never get into trouble, and maman won't worry about me when I'm with you." She gazed up at her sister with wide blue eyes, a bright smile, and her silver hair cascading around her shoulders.

Fleur couldn't help but admire Gabby's allure, even within their own family. She thought to herself, If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse her of using her charm on me. With that look, she could make tears flow from a stone.

Fleur couldn't resist her sister's enthusiasm. "Alright," she relented. "Where would you like to go?"

Gabby's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Somewhere exciting!"

Fleur pondered for a moment. "I can show you where they kept the dragons from the first task. It's not far into the forest, and it should be safe now."

"Let's go," Gabby declared, jumping off the bed with a mischievous smirk. "We can sneak out."

Fleur, ever the responsible one, hesitated. "We could just ask..."

"Sneaking is more fun," Gabby interjected, and with a flourish, she produced her wand from her cleavage. "See?"

Fleur was taken aback. "You keep your wand there!?"

Gabby grinned mischievously. "I couldn't before, but I can now, and it's much less likely to be lost or stolen when it's safely tucked away here."

Fleur offered practical advice. "You can't draw it very quickly from there. The best place to keep it is at your waist or up your sleeve."

Reluctantly, Gabby agreed, "Fine, but we're still sneaking."

Fleur couldn't help but tease her. "You always get caught, you know."

Gabby's confidence was unwavering. "Not anymore. Watch."

With a flick of her wand, Gabby cast a disillusionment charm and gradually faded from view.

Fleur observed the faint shimmer left behind. "You're almost as good as I am, or very close. But it's never perfect. Our natural magic resists the intent of the charm."

Gabby couldn't hide her satisfaction. "Tell me you've seen anyone my age with a better disillusionment charm," she boasted.

"It's very impressive," Fleur admitted, acknowledging her sister's skill.

With a mischievous giggle, Gabby took the lead. She opened Fleur's door and tiptoed out. Fleur swiftly followed, casting her own disillusionment charm as she crossed the carpeted hall and ventured outside the carriage into the damp grass.

Once outside, Gabby asked, "Which way?"

Fleur dispelled her own charm and pointed her wand toward Hogwarts' quidditch pitch. Gabby, without a second thought, darted off across the wet grass, paying no heed to her attire.

Fleur called out, "Slow down, Gabby! If you get lost in the woods, we might never find you again. You don't want to be stuck out here, especially with the miserable weather."

Gabby bounded ahead to the edge of the pitch and then into the trees, occasionally pausing to ensure Fleur kept up. Fleur had to quicken her pace to keep Gabby's bright hair in sight through the forest.

As they ventured deeper into the woods, Gabby's enthusiasm led her to momentarily lose Fleur among the trees. Fleur's voice called out, "Gabby, come back."

Silence settled beneath the pine trees, and Fleur's heart began to race. An unsettling sense of apprehension curled in her stomach.

Then, a piercing scream tore through the woods.

Fleur's heart pounded as she yanked her wand from her pocket and sprinted through the trees toward the sound. Needle-sharp branches lashed across her face, but she paid no heed to the stinging pain. She rounded a tree and collided with something soft, bouncing off and rolling on the forest floor.

"Fleur," Gabby groaned. "Why did you hit me?"

Fleur demanded, her wand still leveled. "Why did you scream?"

"Look!" Gabby's voice held a note of horrified fascination.

Fleur, recovering from her collision with a tree, brushed her hair away from her eyes and followed Gabby's gaze. There, beneath the trunk of a pine, lay blackened bones, twisted and charred by fire, with strips of melted, scorched flesh clinging to them.

A shiver of dread ran down Fleur's spine. It was clear that this was a skeleton, and the condition of the remains suggested something sinister. "And you don't set fire to a body unless you have a very good reason not to want people to find it."

She spoke softly to her sister, "Stay away from it, Gabby. Actually, go get Madame Maxime; she'll know what to do."

Gabby promptly obeyed, hurrying back in the direction they had come. Meanwhile, Fleur cautiously approached the gruesome discovery. Shattered and cracked bones lay beneath the tree's branches, loose teeth gleamed among the dead needles, and only a few strips of charred flesh clung to the battered skull.

The realization sent a chill down her spine. Burned. And I found the body. The implications were alarming, especially considering how this could be exploited by the likes of Rita Skeeter. "Rita Skeeter will have a field day with this," she thought, "Part veela witch seduces and murders a British wizard. At least it's been here too long to be Mr. Crouch."

Just then, their mother's voice cut through the trees. "Fleur, what's going on? Gabrielle was rambling about skeletons."

Madame Maxime, too, appeared in the clearing, and her gasp was audible. She cast a Patronus, a huge, silver swan that soared away toward the castle. "Go to Dumbledore," she instructed her Patronus. "Tell him we have discovered a body on the school grounds, but we don't know who it is."

Turning her attention back to Fleur, Madame Maxime inquired, "How did you find this?"

"Gabby wanted to go somewhere, so I offered to take her to where the dragons were," Fleur explained to her mother.

Maman, arms folded, expressed her disapproval. "You shouldn't have given in, Fleur. You always do whatever Gabrielle asks without considering the consequences."

However, Madame Maxime interjected, "It's a good thing she did. This is not Barty Crouch, the Triwizard Judge; the skeleton is the wrong height. Yet they haven't been dead for more than a few months."

A burst of bright, flame-edged red light pierced through the branches, and Albus Dumbledore appeared in the clearing, accompanied by his phoenix, whose soothing song provided some comfort and momentarily pushed thoughts of Rita Skeeter aside.

"That is not Barty Crouch," Dumbledore confirmed. "I have a few questions, Miss Delacour. Afterward, it would be best for you to return to the carriage and stay somewhere the aurors can find you in case they require your answers."

Fleur nodded in agreement. Maman, however, was concerned. "You cannot be suggesting they will suspect her?! If anyone accuses my daughters—"

Dumbledore reassured her, "I am implying nothing of the sort, Madam Delacour, but they will have questions about the body that your daughters can answer." He then drew his wand, a knotted, engraved length of pale wood, and cast powerful protective wards around the body. "Did you only just find this skeleton, Miss Delacour?" he inquired.

"Yes, Gabby screamed, and I came running after her and found it," Fleur confirmed.

Dumbledore continued his inquiry, "Have either of you touched the body?"

Gabby responded, "No," in a hushed whisper from just behind Fleur.

Fleur couldn't help but ask, her voice trembling, "Who is it?"

Dumbledore, with his characteristic calm, replied, "I don't know, but we will find out. I can assure you that it is not a student. The wards of the school would have notified me the moment one of them left the grounds without permission, and I know for a fact they are still working as of just before the wand-weighing ceremony."

Madame Maxime voiced her concern. "That was some time ago, Albus."

Dumbledore considered this. "It tells me that they've not decayed over time enough to fail, and nobody has tampered with them in over a decade, which I would've certainly noticed. Whoever this poor unfortunate is, he is neither staff nor student." He tucked his unique wand away and ran his fingers through his beard. "That does rather lead to the question of what he was doing here. Alastor has been growing increasingly concerned of late, but I had no evidence to lend credence to his theories except for the shadows in his foe glass."

"I will have to warn my students, Dumbledore," Madame Maxime declared.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, saying, "Of course, Olympe. I would expect and advise nothing less."

As the phoenix let out a low cry, Dumbledore continued, "I must notify our ministry and the aurors. Please do try not to touch anything; the area is quite strongly warded."

With another flash of fire, the venerable wizard vanished from the clearing.

Gabby, her unease apparent, asked, "Can we go back to the carriage? I don't like this place. It feels angry... and cold."

Fleur glanced at her younger sister, surprised by Gabby's sensitivity to the residual magic. "She can still feel the magic after a month? That means it had some real feeling in it."

Their mother, concerned for her daughter, inquired, "What do you feel, Gabby?"

Gabby, however, shook her head and tightly closed her eyes. "Please don't ask," she pleaded.

Fleur, holding her sister's hand, insisted gently, "It's important, Gabby. Just listen to what you can feel for a minute."

Gabby shuddered, her eyes closed as she described the eerie sensations. "It's distant," she muttered. "Far away and fading, but it must have been so strong." She hunched into herself, her discomfort evident. "It's like an echo. I don't think they died here, but the magic's still clinging to them. It's like thick, black smoke."

Fleur was perplexed. This wasn't how Gabby usually described magic; she typically used colors and feelings to convey its nature. "And it's cold," Gabby whispered. "It's so cold, like ice when your skin sticks to it. I - I can't touch it. I don't want to stick to it. I don't want to touch it anymore. S'il vous plaît, Fleur."

Maman reassured Gabby, "It's okay. Stop listening." Then, she turned to Fleur and gave her instructions. "Take her back to the carriage and keep her mind off it. I need to talk to Madame Maxime about the aurors. Nobody talks to you two without asking my permission, especially in this country."

Fleur led her trembling sister back toward the quidditch pitch, choosing the direct path toward the light rather than the more winding route back to the carriage. The eerie discovery would linger in her mind, but she was determined to protect and distract Gabby from these disturbing sensations.

Gabby whimpered and resisted, her heels digging into the ground. "Not that way," she muttered. "It's stronger that way."

Fleur, concerned for her sister, asked, "Can you lead me to where it's strongest?"

Gabby clutched Fleur's hand with both of hers and, with trembling steps, guided her through the pine needles until they came to a stop just a few meters from the edge of the quidditch pitch. Gabby's shoulders shook with unease.

"Let's go," she pleaded, her voice filled with fear. "Please, Fleur, let's go. It's angry. It's so angry. There's so much hate. I can feel it inside, like a blade of ice twisting in my chest. And it's empty underneath, like – like sitting outside in winter until the cold and the dark seeped so far into you that you never felt anything else again." She shuddered and buried her face in Fleur's shoulder. "I've never known anything like this."

Fleur, trying to calm her sister, gently said, "Let's go, Gabby. Let me show you something magical. You can listen to the magic in it and see what you think. It's very nice magic."

Gabby clung to Fleur's hand, her eyes filled with a disturbing emptiness. Fleur couldn't help but worry. "Merde. She's not been overwhelmed like this since she was little," she thought. She quickened her pace and led her sister up the stairs, ensuring they stepped over the points that the other students avoided.

As they passed a pudgy, shy boy Fleur had seen near Harry's former friends, she couldn't help but notice the strange, potent mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes, even beneath the effects of her allure.

Gabby continued to resist, her unease evident, and Fleur couldn't help but feel her sister's fear. Fleur, growing increasingly concerned for Gabby's well-being, asked, "Can you lead me to where it's strongest?"

Gabby clung to Fleur's hand, her trembling steps guiding her through the pine needles until they came to a halt a few meters from the quidditch pitch. Gabby's shoulders shook with her distress, and she implored, "Let's go, Fleur. Please, let's go. It's angry. It's so angry. There's so much hate. I can feel it inside, like a blade of ice twisting in my chest. And it's empty underneath, like – like sitting outside in winter until the cold and the dark seeped so far into you that you never felt anything else again." She shuddered and buried her face in Fleur's shoulder. "I've never known anything like this."

Fleur, trying to calm her sister, gently said, "Let's go, Gabby. I'll show you something magical. You can listen to the magic in it and see what you think. It's very nice magic."

As they made their way up the stairs, stepping over the points that other students avoided, Fleur noticed a pudgy, shy boy she had seen near Harry's former friends. Even under the effects of her allure, she couldn't help but sense the peculiar and intense mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes.

Fleur led Gabby into the Room of Requirement, explaining, "It's ok. This is the Room of Requirement. Harry Potter showed it to me after the Yule Ball. I mentioned it briefly in my letter, but not much. I didn't want to give away his secret."

Gabby, her eyes closed, was filled with awe. "It's amazing. I can't pick anything out, there's so much!" She eagerly approached a jar beside her bed, only to be disappointed. "My secret sweets stash isn't here."

Fleur chuckled, saying, "We're not really home, Gabby. This is a recreation based on what I want. The room can only mimic objects; it can't create anything like food."

Gabby, undeterred, insisted, "Well then, let's go back. I need something warm to drink. Something warm, and sweet, and tasty."

Fleur playfully complained, "Which means you intend to drink what little's left of my hot chocolate stash, you greedy little bird. That would've lasted me a week, and you've gone through it in a day."

Step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.

For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.

Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!