CHAPTER 10 – DECISIONS
Few races on Earth remained as enigmatic and misunderstood as the Veela.
Many viewed them as mere creatures, akin to giants or dragons. Although their appearance bore a closer resemblance to humans than most other races, there was a pervasive misconception that they required stringent regulation, much like other non-human races. This perception couldn't have been farther from the truth. Physiologically, Veela were virtually indistinguishable from what was commonly referred to as "normal" human beings. What set them apart were their unique and remarkably specific abilities.
To begin with, Veela possessed an alternative form into which they could transform, primarily in moments of intense stress or fear during their youth. As they matured, they mastered control over this transformation. In this alternate state, they became creatures of fire, exhibiting a profound affinity for all forms of fire magic and the capacity to unleash destructive fireballs.
Misunderstanding also surrounded their emotional capabilities, particularly in the realm of love. The prevailing misconception was that Veela were primarily driven by sexual desires, a notion deeply ingrained in their history. In times when it was legally permissible, affluent men often kept Veela as slaves. Even in contemporary society, Veela were often sought after as second wives or concubines in certain cultures. This unfortunate reality cast a shadow over the daily lives of many Veela, for they were acutely aware that most men who encountered them were primarily interested in their perceived sexual allure, often overlooking their other qualities and aspirations.
In reality, Veela possessed a profound connection to the emotion of love, with their sexual allure merely emerging as a consequence of their unique ability to perceive the desires and affections of their partners. While it was true that their allure could be likened to a magnetic force, sometimes even a weapon against those ensnared by its charm, for a Veela, nothing was more appealing than a potential partner who could resist its effects. They had an innate ability to sense love in all its diverse forms. Consequently, when a Veela did find true love, they recognized it swiftly and navigated life with the assurance of their partner's genuine affection.
As Fleur contemplated the past weeks spent in the company of her betrothed, she pondered the emotions she had discerned in Harry. She realized that she had yet to touch his heart, which wasn't surprising given his upbringing and the abrupt circumstances of their relationship. Rather than feeling frustrated by his cautious approach, she welcomed it. His resistance to her allure was a testament to his emotional maturity and strength of character. She understood that Harry's ability to resist her allure was a reflection of his inner fortitude.
Fleur was content to allow her relationship with Harry to evolve naturally, nurtured by the passage of time spent together and the development of their friendship, which would hopefully blossom into a deeper love. Beyond her ability to sense emotions, Fleur, as a Veela, possessed an instinctual sense of compatibility, and she was confident that she and Harry were exceptionally well-suited for each other. Her future with Harry appeared promising, not only due to his character and abilities but also because the inevitable emotional connection between them was only a matter of time. It was not a question of if, but when their love for each other would flourish.
A genuine concern that weighed heavily on Fleur's mind was the evident emotions Harry displayed for someone else—clear to a Veela who naturally detected such nuances. She suspected that Harry himself might not fully comprehend his feelings, but Fleur was convinced that he was in love with his closest friend. Her judgment led her to believe that Hermione reciprocated Harry's affection wholeheartedly. Despite their youth at just fifteen years of age, Fleur discerned that their mutual sentiments surpassed the realm of childish infatuation typical of most teenagers. Theirs was a mature and deep connection, the kind of love Fleur deeply desired for herself, one built upon years of friendship, companionship, and mutual respect and affection.
In a way, Fleur felt a sense of remorse regarding the marriage contract that had essentially removed Harry's freedom of choice. If it had been entirely up to them, she wouldn't even have been in the picture. The strength of Harry and Hermione's friendship would likely have led them to marry when they reached adulthood. The fact that the contract, not her own volition, had dictated this outcome was a small comfort. As she had previously conveyed to Harry, she bore a sense of responsibility for the likelihood that his name would not continue with her as his wife. She was aware of the gravity of this issue, even if Harry hadn't fully grasped it yet.
Her parents found themselves in a similar situation. Fleur's father had made considerable sacrifices to marry her mother, solely out of love and an inability to imagine life without her. Lacking a male heir, their family name would fade away. Fleur couldn't even provide a male grandchild to continue her husband's lineage, given the near impossibility of either Gabrielle or herself giving birth to two sons—one to preserve her husband's name and the other to carry on her father's legacy.
Could she bear the responsibility of extinguishing the venerable name of the magical Potters from the world as Harry's wife? This question weighed heavily on Fleur's conscience.
However, Fleur was not oblivious to the alternatives within the magical world's traditions and customs. She knew that, as the last surviving member of his family, Harry was a prime candidate for entering into multiple marriages. If she couldn't provide him with a son, then by marrying someone else, he would have a higher likelihood of securing the heir he would one day desire. Fleur had someone specific in mind who could seamlessly fit into Harry's life as she had into her role as his friend.
The dilemma, of course, was convincing Hermione that this was the right course of action. Fleur had no doubt about Hermione's feelings for Harry, but she also understood that Hermione regarded Harry as unattainable. The girl's sadness had not escaped Fleur's notice. It would undoubtedly be a catastrophe if Hermione sought solace in someone else during her emotional distress, especially considering that the most likely confidant would be her other best friend.
Ron, whom Fleur harbored no ill will toward, had certain traits of immaturity and unresolved issues that needed addressing before he could truly mature. What was even more important, Fleur's instincts strongly indicated that Ron was an ill-suited match for Hermione. Marrying Ron as a replacement for Harry would likely lead Hermione to eventual regret. Ron was simply not the right fit.
The most significant hurdle for Hermione would be overcoming her upbringing in Muggle society, where unions involving multiple spouses were considered immoral and unnatural. Yet Fleur held a strong conviction that Hermione marrying Harry was the best course of action for the young woman. They were exceptionally compatible on every level.
Fleur's fondness for Hermione further facilitated this idea. She doubted she could accept sharing her future husband with someone she didn't genuinely like. Fortunately, this was not the case with Hermione. Fleur acknowledged that Hermione was not without flaws, but in an intriguing way, Harry and Hermione's strengths and weaknesses seemed to complement each other effectively. While some might view Fleur's perspective as self-aggrandizing, she believed her presence in Harry's life would enhance the overall dynamic.
Perhaps it was time to initiate a conversation with Hermione. Marriage wasn't on the horizon for Harry or Fleur for several years, but planting the seed of thought in Hermione's mind early might allow her to adjust to the idea over time and reach her own conclusion sooner rather than later. Yes, Fleur felt the need to talk to Hermione, and if possible, before they returned to school.
A knock on Fleur's door interrupted her contemplations. When she granted permission for the door to open, her mother entered the room. Fleur couldn't help but inwardly smile at the serendipitous timing. It was as if her mother had sensed the same things she had, and Apolline Delacour, with her two decades more experience in dealing with Veela abilities, likely did so much earlier.
"Ah, my dear," the elder Delacour woman greeted her. "I was hoping to speak with you."
"Of course, Maman," Fleur replied, getting up from her reclined position and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her mother took a seat beside her and appeared to carefully consider her words before speaking. It was evident that she was genuinely concerned, a feeling Fleur easily detected. Veela women shared a unique connection, especially within the family, and Fleur had always known that her mother loved her and would be there for her under any circumstances. It was a source of comfort beyond anything she had ever experienced.
"How are you getting along with Harry?" Apolline began her inquiry.
"Fine, Maman," Fleur replied. "He's a very kind young man and treats me with respect and consideration. I believe that we will make a good match."
A warm smile graced Apolline's lips as she gazed at her daughter. "I believe you will as well. I've sensed the same about your young man. However, do not forget to take the time to get to know him better. Despite your apparent compatibility, a strong relationship doesn't sprout from nothing. I want you to experience the same happiness in life that I've found with your father."
"I will, Maman. We've only truly known each other for a few weeks, so you must understand that love has not yet developed between us. I'm content to let it evolve naturally."
Apolline Delacour regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Yes, that is perhaps the best course of action."
Mother and daughter sat in silence for several moments. Fleur patiently awaited her mother's prompt, sensing that Apolline was carefully choosing the right words to address the issue. Apolline seemed to grapple with indecision, but eventually took a deep breath and resumed speaking.
"Fleur, I won't underestimate your intelligence by assuming you haven't observed it yourself. However, I'd like to understand your plans regarding the situation between Harry and his best friend."
"Maman..."
Apolline's firm gaze silenced her daughter. "Fleur, you can't simply ignore the situation. Harry's feelings for Hermione are deep, and reciprocated. You can't embark on a relationship with that shadow hanging over you."
Fleur responded with an exasperated sigh. "And what would you suggest, Maman? If I press the issue, I have no doubt that, at this stage, I would lose Harry entirely. I'm aware he can't escape the marriage contract, but I'd risk any chance of connecting with him. Their friendship is strong, no matter what other feelings they might harbor, and I don't want to infuriate Harry by demanding he forsake his closest friend. Moreover, it's not fair to Harry—he didn't choose this for himself."
"I understand your perspective, Fleur," her mother replied calmly. "But in this matter, shouldn't you be a little selfish? Harry is meant to be your husband, not Hermione's."
"He could be a husband to both of us."
Apolline's unyielding gaze persisted, but her expression softened, and she embraced Fleur, offering both sympathy and support. "So, that's the situation, then?"
"It is, Maman, and I see little alternative."
Overwhelmed by emotions that had been pent up, Fleur stood and began pacing the floor, her hands wringing with agitation. "Harry and Hermione are incredibly close—as I've already mentioned, I don't believe prohibiting them from seeing each other is the right course of action, nor is it fair. I didn't choose this any more than Harry did, but in some ways, it's been more challenging for him than for me. I'm not in love with someone else—Harry is, even if he may not be aware of it himself."
"Do I want to share my husband? Part of me shudders at the very thought. But another part acknowledges the situation and understands that it might be inevitable—after all, he is the last Potter. And, though I hesitate, I also realize that Hermione is a remarkable young woman. I could have been forced to share my husband with someone far less deserving."
"Remember, Fleur, you don't have to share your husband at all," Apolline comforted. "You will be the first wife, after all—all others must be approved by you."
Fleur halted her pacing and settled back into her previous position beside her mother. "Perhaps that's true, Maman. But there's also the matter of Harry's lineage to consider. You know as well as I do that the odds of me giving him a son to carry on his name are slim. That leaves us with the choice of convincing some young man to relinquish his name and take on our daughter's (and then facing the same issue in the next generation!) or allowing Harry to take another wife who might provide him with a son."
A smile curved upon Apolline's face. "This situation does sound strangely familiar," she remarked.
"Did you face a similar dilemma with Papa?"
"I did," Apolline confirmed with a smile. "Your father and I had a similar discussion when I informed him that I would likely be able to bear nothing but daughters. He pondered it for a while because, as you know, it's a significant consideration in our world. Then he declared his love for me and no one else, emphasizing that it didn't matter to him, as he would be just as happy with daughters as he would be with a son, should a miracle happen and I gave birth to a boy. I don't think he has ever regretted that decision. Perhaps Harry would feel the same way."
"I'm sure he would," Fleur replied. "Harry didn't grow up in our world, and the notion of carrying on the family name hasn't been ingrained in him. I'm confident Harry would say something similar to what Papa said if I brought it up."
"Why are you worrying, then? He's young—perhaps he'll outgrow his infatuation with his friend in time."
Fleur gazed at her mother in disbelief. "Maman, I know you don't believe that. You have far more experience in this matter than I do, and I can sense that their feelings are genuine."
Apolline's expression turned rueful as she admitted, "As much as I wish I could say otherwise, I cannot."
"That's why I've made the choice I have. I understand Papa's circumstances, but he wasn't bound by a betrothal contract when he was in love with someone else. I won't take this away from Harry, Maman. He deserves to pursue his heart's desire. I hold Hermione in high regard as well—she deserves Harry as much as he deserves her.
"And there's another reason. I can't quite explain it, but I have this strong feeling that Harry will need the support of both of us in the times ahead. I don't know where it comes from, but I'm sure it's true."
Her mother's piercing gaze bore into her, but Fleur stood resolute. She couldn't quite grasp the origin of this impression, but the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. Harry would require the support of both of them to succeed in his quest against Voldemort.
"It seems, then, that you've made your decision. I'll stand by you in this, as you're well aware."
Fleur smiled and wrapped her mother in a tight embrace. "I know you will, Maman, and I'm grateful for that."
"I will support you, Fleur," Apolline affirmed with a determined look, "but it doesn't mean I like this. I had hoped you'd find true love with your young man."
"And who's to say that I won't?" Fleur responded with a mischievous tone. "Regardless of Harry's feelings for Hermione, I am still highly compatible with him. Harry has enough room in his heart for both Hermione and me, Maman. I may not like the situation, but I'm confident that Harry and I can develop our own feelings for each other, separate from what he has with Hermione."
Apolline smiled and affectionately touched her daughter's face. "I believe he has a remarkable capacity for love, my daughter—I truly do."
At Hogwarts, the staff was diligently preparing for the forthcoming term, set to commence in just a few days. Summer was a time for various tasks that couldn't be tackled during the school year—the entire castle was being aired and cleaned, lessons for the upcoming year were being organized by the professors, and numerous administrative duties were being completed, all essential for the school's smooth and efficient operation.
As had been their tradition for well over a decade, Minerva McGonagall, who had been serving as Deputy Headmistress since Horace Slughorn's retirement, found herself in the Headmaster's office, going over the final details in preparation for the students' return.
Their years of collaboration had fostered a deep understanding between them, allowing their meetings to be consistently efficient and brief. Dumbledore had the utmost confidence in Minerva's capabilities, and she was grateful for that trust. Due to his commitments with the Wizengamot and the ICW, Dumbledore often seemed as absent from the school as he was present, leaving Minerva to function as the de facto Headmistress for a significant portion of the year.
This particular meeting began no differently than their past meetings over the last decade. Minerva presented her report on the incoming first-year students, with a particular focus on Muggleborn students. Part of her duty involved delivering their acceptance letters and acquainting them with the magical world they were about to enter.
Over the years, they had made it a practice to discuss the new students and enjoyed guessing which houses they might be sorted into, turning it into a sort of game. Some were easy to predict—like Draco Malfoy, who seemed destined for Slytherin due to his lack of loyalty, less-than-stellar intellect, and his penchant for bullying. It was the students who could fit into multiple houses that made the guessing game interesting. Then there were the surprises, such as Miss Granger, whom nobody had anticipated ending up in Gryffindor.
"I do have one question, Albus," Minerva commented after their discussion about the new students had settled.
"Please, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, leaning back in his chair.
"Miss Delacour. She will be attending Hogwarts this year, but what are your plans for her? Will you place her directly in Gryffindor, or are you inclined to let the Sorting Hat make the decision?"
Dumbledore took a moment to consider the matter before responding. "Although it would be less than ideal to place her in a house separate from her betrothed, I believe we should still let her be sorted by the hat. I suspect she will end up in Gryffindor, based on what I know about her, so it should not be an issue."
Minerva nodded in agreement. "I recall the second task last year. It was evident she was frightened—understandably so, given her nature. However, she courageously participated despite her fears, regardless of the outcome."
"Exactly," Dumbledore affirmed. "If the Sorting Hat does place her in another house, we will have to make a decision at that point. There's one house for which she would be entirely unsuited, although I don't believe the hat would sort her there."
A look of distaste accompanied his statement. "She would be in physical danger in Slytherin, Albus, and you are aware of this. Even many students whose families aren't affiliated with the Death Eaters would likely consider her an outcast and a target."
"Indeed," agreed the Headmaster. "While she possesses ambition, it is not her dominant characteristic, so the likelihood of that happening is quite low, in any case. Although she is intelligent, I don't believe Ravenclaw would be an ideal fit for her either. Gryffindor is the most suitable, of course, though Hufflepuff could also be a good match for her."
McGonagall smiled and gave an approving nod. This conversation was, in all likelihood, a formality; she was almost certain that Fleur would be sorted into Gryffindor.
"Bring her to my office before the feast, and we'll sort her in private," Dumbledore instructed. "There's no reason to subject her to a public Sorting in front of the entire school, alongside the first-year students."
McGonagall concurred, and the Headmaster moved on to another topic.
"Now, regarding your selections for the Gryffindor prefects."
"Yes, of course," McGonagall responded. Rarely had the choices for prefects been as clear to her as they were now—in fact, Dumbledore likely already knew her choices as well as she did herself.
"As neither of the Head Students this year are from Gryffindor, and my sixth and seventh-year prefects performed admirably last year, I see no reason to replace any of them. As for the fifth-year prefects, I believe this may be the easiest decision I've ever made during my time at Hogwarts. The prefects will be Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
Dumbledore remained silent for several moments, thoughtfully stroking his beard. McGonagall couldn't help but wonder about his unusual behavior. Miss Granger's selection was practically uncontested, and considering the Headmaster's pride in Mr. Potter's accomplishments, she was surprised he hadn't immediately concurred with her choices.
"Yes, Minerva, excellent choices indeed," he eventually said. "However, don't you think it might be appropriate to offer the fifth-year prefect position to young Mr. Weasley instead of Mr. Potter?"
Minerva was taken aback by the Headmaster's words, struggling to maintain her composure. In the past, Dumbledore had never shown overt interest in her choices, except to approve them. So, why was he now objecting to Harry's appointment as a prefect, especially given his personal feelings for the boy?
However, Minerva knew that Dumbledore was a thoughtful and intelligent man. He wouldn't make such a suggestion without a good reason. She began to voice her agreement with him but then reconsidered his suggestion and contemplated the possible consequences. She couldn't endorse his proposal without a clearer understanding of why he believed Harry should be passed over.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but why do you believe Mr. Potter is unsuitable for the position?"
"Not unsuitable, Minerva," Dumbledore responded. "I have the utmost confidence in Harry's abilities, as you are well aware. I am merely concerned about his current state of mind and the numerous challenges he is facing. Perhaps taking on the responsibilities of a prefect might be too much for him, given the circumstances."
McGonagall's expression tightened. "I must respectfully disagree, Albus. While Harry may not be the most studious student I've ever taught—though a bit more diligence would certainly improve his grades—his leadership and maturity make him the best choice in my opinion. I also believe it would send a discouraging message to the entire house if we were to bypass a deserving young man like Mr. Potter for the honor in favor of someone who is not as qualified. Mr. Weasley is a fine young man, but I believe he lacks the emotional maturity required for this position.
"Furthermore, I believe it is more beneficial for Mr. Potter to learn how to balance all aspects of his life at a young age, rather than being overly sheltered. If anyone can handle the pressures of such a role, it is undoubtedly Harry. Underestimating his abilities in this way is not in his best interest."
Dumbledore chuckled and nodded his head. "That is precisely why I value your abilities and straightforwardness, Minerva. You are absolutely correct—I was considering sparing Harry some additional responsibilities, but I concur that if anyone can manage the challenges, it is certainly Mr. Potter. Thank you for setting me straight."
Mollified by Dumbledore's agreement, Minerva assured him that it was no trouble, grateful that she had been able to persuade him to see things from her perspective. They discussed a few more matters before concluding their meeting. Minerva left the office, her mind already focused on the tasks she needed to complete in preparation for the students' arrival.
The last few days of summer vacation passed, and Harry found himself reflecting on the numerous changes that had taken place in his life over the past four weeks. It had been quite a lot to absorb, but he was content with the way things had unfolded. For once, he looked forward to the future with a sense of anticipation rather than the dread that had often plagued him.
His relationship with Fleur, although progressing slowly, had developed into a friendly connection that he had not been entirely certain would be attainable. Fleur's sweet, confident, and determined personality was one he could genuinely appreciate and could envision himself loving. Hermione had practically moved into the ambassador's manor, no longer returning to her home or Grimmauld Place even on weekends. Her parents were regular visitors, and they often stayed for the entire weekend. It was beneficial that the Delacours were not uncomfortable around Muggles, and the Grangers had quickly become close friends with them.
The Weasley children, along with Neville and Luna, were also frequent visitors, though they hadn't been allowed to stay for the weekends. Neville and Luna, while not obliged by their guardians, expressed a desire to spend time at home during the weekends, and their wishes were respected.
Harry had come to regard Neville as a true and loyal friend. The timid, clumsy boy he had once known had transformed into a mature and confident young man. With his new wand, Neville was excelling in magic, a significant contrast to his earlier struggles. Harry valued their close friendship and was glad to have Neville's unwavering support.
Luna, on the other hand, remained a bit of an enigma to Harry. Her eccentric discussions about fantastical creatures and otherworldly experiences often left him questioning her sanity. However, Luna could also be quite lucid, albeit always whimsical. Harry suspected there might be some past experiences that influenced her behavior, but she hadn't shared much about her personal history. Regardless, he genuinely liked her and respected her unique abilities. Luna's presence added a distinctive dynamic to the group that would be sorely missed if she chose to distance herself from them.
As the month neared its end, the group gathered for their final training session with Moody on a Wednesday. Despite the fast-paced learning, none of them felt overwhelmed. Moody, in his peculiar and paranoid manner, had a unique way of teaching that made the material more accessible. Harry recognized that he still had much to learn before achieving true proficiency, but he had acquired more knowledge than ever before.
Moody's stern and unyielding demeanor softened slightly as he continued. "But never forget that in this world, competence is not enough. Giftedness alone won't save you. You need discipline, determination, and the will to do what it takes to get the job done. You need to be relentless in your pursuit of excellence, always pushing yourself to learn more, to become better. And never, ever underestimate your opponents. No matter how powerful you become, there will always be someone stronger, more cunning, more experienced, or more ruthless out there."
Harry and the others listened intently. Moody's words were a stark reminder of the dangers they would face in their fight against Voldemort and his followers. The weight of their responsibilities was always present in their minds.
Moody paced in front of them, his magical eye swiveling as he scrutinized each of them. "You may have your strengths, but so do your enemies. They will exploit your weaknesses, and they won't play by any rules. They'll use every dirty trick in the book to defeat you, and they'll do it without hesitation. You have to be ready for anything, and you have to be willing to do what it takes to win, even if it means going to dark places you never thought you'd go."
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. "Your training has given you a strong foundation, but it's only the beginning. The real test is out there, in the field, facing the unknown. You'll make mistakes, and you'll face setbacks, but you must learn from them and keep going. Never stop improving, never stop growing, and never stop fighting for what's right."
Moody's gaze fixed on Harry, his magical eye locking onto him. "You, Harry Potter, have a unique role to play in this fight. You've faced the Dark Lord and survived, and you've already proven yourself as a leader. But don't let that make you arrogant. Stay humble and stay focused. Your friends and allies will rely on you, and your enemies will fear you, but never forget that you're only human. Use your strengths, but don't neglect your weaknesses. Train, study, and prepare yourself for the challenges that lie ahead."
Harry nodded, taking Moody's words to heart. The others did the same, their resolve strengthened by the Auror's unwavering determination. They knew that the road ahead would be tough, but they were more determined than ever to face whatever came their way.
Moody concluded his speech with a characteristic gruffness. "Now, enough of this sentimental rubbish. You've got work to do, and I expect nothing less than your best. Stay sharp, stay vigilant, and stay alive. That's an order."
With that, the training session came to an end, and the group dispersed, each of them reflecting on Moody's words and the challenges that awaited them in the fight against the forces of darkness.
He ceased his perambulation around the room, opting instead to take up a position directly in front of them, his stern gaze laser-focused upon their collective presence. His true eye remained resolute, locked onto them, while his artificial ocular appendage whirred intermittently, its erratic motions almost whimsical.
Nonetheless, he pressed forward with his message, underscoring the pivotal term: "Nevertheless," he underscored, "though your competence is undeniable, your journey toward mastery shall remain incomplete unless you persist in rigorous practice. The return to Hogwarts should not serve as a pretext for indolence; rather, it should mark the inception of unrelenting diligence, imperative for the preservation and enhancement of the knowledge you've garnered."
His physical absence from Hogwarts this year was no secret, attributed to other pressing obligations. However, he offered a solace of sorts, suggesting that the Headmaster stood ready for any assistance required. Furthermore, he pointed out a hidden facet: their Charms Professor, in his prime, had been a formidable duelist. To add to their resources, Miss Delacour and the more experienced Mr. Weasleys, given their additional years at Hogwarts, possessed a wealth of wisdom to be tapped into.
In this regard, he nodded towards the elder students, indicating that they were valuable reservoirs of knowledge. The prospect of a collaborative practice regimen was put forth as a solution, urging them to make use of their collective expertise. He concluded with an inspirational reminder to retain the teachings imparted, a promise of future success lingering in the air.
Then, in a sudden crescendo of authority, he thundered, "And above all else," his voice reverberating with unmistakable intensity, "you must engrave in your hearts and minds the relentless creed of constant vigilance!"
A shared, conspiratorial grin danced across the faces of the twins, their irrepressible humor momentarily bubbling to the surface, while the rest of the assembly valiantly grappled with the urge to suppress similar reactions. Unbeknownst to them, their trainer's keen observation detected these covert exchanges.
"Mr. Potter!" he snapped with unyielding scrutiny.
In response to the call, Harry attentively inquired, "Yes, Auror Moody?"
With an air of solemnity, Auror Moody posed a probing question, laden with the weight of their perilous times, "Do you possess knowledge of the identities of the progeny of Death Eaters harbored within the walls of Hogwarts?"
After a moment's contemplation, Harry began to list their names, acknowledging the delicate web of relationships interwoven with dark legacies. "I can name a few, sir. There's Malfoy, as you mentioned, and then Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Pucey, Zabini, probably Parkinson, not to forget the Greengrass sisters… In essence, it wouldn't be far-fetched to consider the entirety of Slytherin House potentially involved."
Moody's response was laden with a predatory, almost feral, satisfaction. "That, Potter, is an assumption," he stated with a calculated, unyielding demeanor. "The undeniable truth remains that, while it's plausible that some among the group you've listed have ties to Death Eaters, to indiscriminately label an entire house with the same sinister brush is fundamentally flawed. Remember this lesson well: unwavering vigilance must be your shield, but avoid the pitfall of presumptive judgment."
Turning his scrutiny to a bewildered Ron, he inquired, "Weasley! Who among the Gryffindor ranks can be identified as the progeny of Death Eaters?"
The expression on Ron's face was a priceless blend of incredulity and offense. "But… but… there are no children of Death Eaters in Gryffindor!" he sputtered, his disbelief palpable.
"Are you absolutely certain?" Moody countered. "What empirical evidence can you present? Were you present at the Death Eater trials at the culmination of the first war? Do you possess the ability to peer into the minds of your classmates, discern their intentions?"
Stymied, Ron continued to stammer, unable to formulate a substantive response. Harry, however, observed the room, registering the speculative expressions adorning most faces. It appeared to be a prevailing belief in Gryffindor House that its members were inherently "good," while the shadow of "evil" rested predominantly over Slytherin House. Meanwhile, individuals in the other houses seemed to occupy a more nuanced middle ground.
Harry found himself contemplating the very essence of this belief. Why should it be so? He had learned long ago that life's complexities defied a binary classification. Categorizing people in such stark terms was shortsighted and, more importantly, perilous.
"Is Gryffindor House, then, too virtuous to accommodate Death Eaters and their offspring?" Moody's inquiry hung heavily in the air, casting a weighty shadow over the room.
Harry hesitated before offering his response, aware of the underlying message Moody was conveying, and deemed it a valuable lesson. "What about Pettigrew?" he ventured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.
Moody's gaze pierced through Harry, one eye wildly spinning, and he took a step back, his countenance darkening with recognition. "Pettigrew! Well done, Mr. Potter."
Directing his attention to Ron, Moody pressed further, "And your thoughts on this matter, Mr. Weasley? Do you still hold to the notion that everyone in your house is beyond reproach, untainted?"
Ron appeared to mull over the idea, then shook his head.
"Rightly so," Moody concurred. "No one is immune to concealment of their true nature. In fact, it's the ones who are most adept at dissimulation that require your utmost vigilance. While Slytherins may bear the notoriety, the majority of them are more bark than bite, not as menacing as their predecessors. The real concern lies with those harboring sympathies for the Death Eaters in the other houses."
Moody's relentless interrogation continued. "Even if there are no confirmed Death Eaters in your house, can you be absolutely certain that none of them are under the Imperius curse?"
In a sudden, dramatic turn of events, Moody executed a rapid pivot and cast a stinging hex at Neville. Much to the surprise of those who had misjudged him as a lackluster student, Neville displayed remarkable agility, promptly erecting a Protego shield that intercepted the incoming hex, thwarting its assault. This had become a routine occurrence during their lessons with Moody, and the group had honed their skills in protecting themselves from his seemingly sporadic attacks.
Moody's laughter reverberated through the room, and he playfully clapped Neville on the back, conveying his approval. He then hobbled to the front of the room, positioning himself to address the trainees, his grizzled countenance etched with both pride and gravitas. "Well done, every one of you. I commend your progress. Yet, you must never let your guard down. Always be aware of your surroundings, be certain of the identities of those around you, and maintain a constant vigilance, even within the confines of what should be 'secure' places, such as your own common rooms. You can never take for granted who may have fallen under the sway of the enemy's cause, willingly or otherwise."
Following Moody's lecture, the group dispersed, making their way to the manor's dining room where they sat down to enjoy the lunch prepared by the diligent house-elves. With their summer training regimen now concluded, Hermione could eagerly anticipate the upcoming school year at Hogwarts.
Her cheeks flushed as she considered that she might be the lone enthusiast in their midst eagerly anticipating another round of schooling. Yet, upon closer observation, her initial assessment underwent a revision. She realized that Luna, being a Ravenclaw, was probably equally eager for the pursuit of knowledge, and though she hadn't yet formed a deep bond with Fleur, the French witch exuded an air of enthusiasm for learning. Even Harry, despite his usually restrained demeanor, bore a glimmer of anticipation for the upcoming Hogwarts term. Hermione understood that this was partly due to his desire to escape his relatives, who, from what she'd heard, made his return to Hogwarts a much-welcomed respite.
With a soft sigh, Hermione redirected her attention to her meal, reflecting on the myriad changes and the new friendships that had graced her life. The Weasley twins were familiar faces from her past, and Neville had evolved from an acquaintance to a genuine friend. Ginny had grown closer, transitioning from casual friendship to a more meaningful connection. As for Fleur, she had made considerable strides in cementing a deep friendship, despite the initial unfamiliarity. Even Luna, whose eccentricity contrasted sharply with Hermione's practicality, was making inroads into the cherished realm of friendship, transcending their differences.
For Hermione, friendships were more than mere connections; they were precious treasures, meticulously nurtured and fiercely protected. Her understanding of their value had been shaped by her somewhat solitary upbringing, yet the origin of this sentiment was inconsequential. Regardless of the reasons, she was steadfast in her commitment to support her friends in any way possible, confident that they would reciprocate in kind.
Hermione's brows furrowed as she surveyed the members of the training group. Upon closer examination, she realized that, aside from the Weasley siblings, each of them had experienced a somewhat solitary upbringing. While none had endured the exact hardships Harry had faced, they had all encountered various forms of loneliness during their formative years. Fleur, set apart by her striking beauty and heritage, Neville grappled with the constant anxiety surrounding his magical abilities, amplified by his overbearing grandmother. Luna, unique in her nature and beliefs, had walked a distinctive path, while Hermione's exceptional intelligence had set her apart. It was as though these shared experiences had woven a tight bond among them, endowing them with a deeper sense of loyalty and camaraderie.
The four Weasleys were equally tethered to this group through strong friendships, with Harry's heroic actions in saving Ron from perilous danger further cementing the connection. These were the friends who would stand beside her, confidants and comrades, as they ventured into the challenging years ahead. It was an exhilarating realization.
Just as this moment of reflection was unfolding, Apolline Delacour entered the room, her countenance radiant, bearing a handful of envelopes. "These arrived while you were in training," she announced, handing the envelopes to Harry, Fleur, and Hermione. She then addressed the remaining occupants of the room, "I suspect your letters were sent to your respective homes."
Excitement surged through Hermione, and she eagerly tore open her envelope, revealing her Hogwarts acceptance letter and the anticipated booklist for the upcoming school year. The receipt of this letter always signaled the end of summer and the reality of her imminent return to school. However, this time, there was an unexpected addition to the envelope—a small object that slipped from the torn envelope and tumbled to the floor, producing a delicate tinkling sound as it came to rest.
Intrigued, Hermione's hand trembled slightly as she reached for the fallen object, her mind racing to unravel the mystery of what it could be. The moment her fingers brushed the cool metal, she recognized it instantly, and her suspicions were confirmed when she laid her eyes on the shiny, engraved "P" emblazoned upon its surface—a prefect badge!
"Hermione, you've become a prefect?" Harry inquired with a joyful grin etched across his face.
With a nod, Hermione held the badge aloft for all to witness, and the room filled with congratulations, causing her cheeks to flush with gratitude.
As the excitement subsided, Ron, with his characteristic humor, couldn't resist a teasing remark. "Oh, come on, Hermione, who else could possibly be Gryffindor's prefect? I've known since our first year that it would be you."
Hermione shot him a mock glare, though her heart wasn't in it. Besides, the mischievous twinkle in Ron's eyes rendered any sting in his words utterly ineffective. "Well, I certainly didn't know, Ronald, and I'm truly honored that Professor McGonagall has placed such faith in me."
Ron rolled his eyes and quipped, "Of course, she wasn't going to pick Lavender 'more-boobs-than-brains' Brown or Parvati 'there's-no-secret-I-can't-turn-into-gossip' Patil. Besides, our whole house together doesn't even know half the rules you do. It had to be you!"
The room erupted in laughter, and Hermione's cheeks tinged slightly at Ron's jest. She sent a playful scowl his way, but he responded by waggling his eyebrows and joining in the mirthful chorus. Hermione shook her head with a good-natured huff and returned her focus to her booklist, diligently making notes of all the required purchases.
Luna's ethereal gaze fixated on Harry as she posed a pointed question, her curiosity evident. Hermione looked up from her list and noticed that the room was now abuzz with speculation regarding the identity of the second Gryffindor prefect.
Ron, not one to shy away from the limelight, proudly proclaimed, "It's me, naturally."
Ginny couldn't help but snort at his confidence. "And what's your reasoning for that, Ron?"
With a beaming grin, Ron began to explain, "Well, you see, Hermione here is the embodiment of a rule-enforcing, by-the-book prefect. To balance that out, they needed someone who's all about fun, relaxed, and laid-back—traits that I possess. It's clear as day; I'm the perfect choice."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's proclamation, fervently hoping he was indulging in jest. She couldn't be entirely sure, but the mischievous glint in his eyes indicated as much.
Ginny chimed in with a playful challenge. "I'll bet on Harry."
All eyes swiveled to the raven-haired young man, who, though slightly uncomfortable under the collective scrutiny, responded with a nonchalant shrug. Delving into his own envelope, he retrieved a prefect's badge, identical to Hermione's, and directed a grin toward George. "Looks like you should've taken that bet, George. You'd be the winner."
Amid the chorus of congratulatory voices, Hermione darted around the table to embrace Harry, her happiness evident in her genuine delight. She was thrilled, not only because Harry remained a dear friend, but because this new role would bring them even closer as they worked together. It was a clear consensus among those present that Harry was an excellent choice for the role.
However, there was one discordant note in this symphony of celebration. Ron reclined in his chair, a trace of discontent etched on his features. Harry receiving the prefect's badge felt like another instance of the Boy-Who-Lived being showered with privileges that eluded him, and Ron was growing increasingly weary of it. Hermione's rather affectionate reaction to Harry's appointment didn't help.
"Ron!" Ginny's voice hissed from his side, her gaze intense.
Startled, Ron turned to find his sister glaring at him. "What?"
Ginny's tone was firm. "You can't let your jealousy get the best of you, Ron."
Ron scowled and turned away, muttering, "Don't worry, Ginny, I won't say anything."
Ginny pressed on, undeterred by his response. "Your body language says it all, Ron. Besides, did you even want that badge? You wouldn't enjoy enforcing rules, attending those boring meetings, doing patrols, and having all that responsibility. Think about it."
Feeling a bit sheepish, Ron mulled over Ginny's words, acknowledging her wisdom. The responsibilities and duties of a prefect were not aligned with his own preferences and desires. He cherished his Quidditch games, chess matches, and the occasional speedy completion of homework, and serving as a prefect would undoubtedly encumber these pursuits. In the end, he realized it was better that Harry had received the badge.
While part of Ron had hoped to become a prefect because it would afford him more opportunities to spend time with Hermione, now those moments were Harry's to enjoy. However, he reminded himself that Harry was his best friend and had previously assured Ron that he held no romantic interest in Hermione. Ron had even come to the realization that it might be for the best this way. He was well aware of Hermione's feelings for Harry, and although Harry couldn't reciprocate them, this arrangement would be more practical.
Being prefects would indeed provide Harry and Hermione with moments of solitude, but it would also make it clear to Hermione that a romantic relationship with Harry was not in the cards. Moreover, with Harry being the one with responsibilities, he could act as a protector, shielding Hermione from any potential admirers. While Neville, Seamus, and Dean hadn't shown much romantic interest in Hermione in the past, she was becoming increasingly appealing as time passed. It seemed preferable for her to be with someone already taken rather than someone who might pursue her.
Harry was a loyal and trustworthy friend, and he deserved to have some positivity in his life. With these considerations in mind, Ron set aside his pride and extended his hand to Harry, offering heartfelt congratulations for his appointment as a prefect. The genuine smile on Harry's face and his grateful response assured Ron that he had made the right choice in being gracious and supportive.
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