EIGHTEEN - Visitors


The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement for the upcoming event and despite it being relatively early in the morning, nearly the entire student body had shown up for breakfast. The small few who were participants in the deadly tournament and their closest friends were the only ones with a more subdued air hanging about them.

"You have to eat something, Harry," said Hermione, as she watched her boyfriend push around the food on his plate. The worry in her tone was glaringly evident to everyone around them.

"You're right," he sighed in admission, and moved to cut one of the sausages. He ate them, unfeeling of any hunger, and could swear he felt the minimally chewed food lodge itself in his throat. It was an effort to bring himself to continue.

Fleur pushed over a small bowl of fruit and yoghurt. He looked up and smiled when he met her beautiful blue eyes.

He abandoned his serving of eggs and sausages, and slowly ate the much lighter alternative. It was smooth and sweet with a bit of honey, and thus much easier on his stressed stomach.

Hermione gave her girlfriend a grateful look and allowed herself to relax the tension she felt in her sternum, happy that Harry was at least getting some substance before the trying task ahead of him. There was still plenty of time left until they were supposed to start, but the earlier they prepared themselves for it, the less they were going to be caught on the back foot.

Ron, who sat across from them, leaned a bit to the side as his eyes tracked an approaching figure. He swallowed the small bit of food in his mouth before speaking. "Someone's here to see you, mate."

Harry looked over his shoulder and found one of the Hufflepuff prefects – he always forgot her name – heading straight for them. The student didn't bother with pleasantries, but then again, there were the few Hufflepuffs who still didn't have the highest opinion of him.

"Potter. Delacour," she greeted them with a pointed look, "message from Professor McGonagall. She wants you to head to the transfiguration classroom, I believe your families are here to see you."

"Our families?" queried Harry in confusion. He searched the faces of those around them and found nothing but equally surprised expressions.

Fleur leaned down and spoke softly to Hermione, prompting the younger girl to stand as well.

As they left the Great Hall, Harry wondered aloud to Fleur and Hermione. "You don't think, the Dursleys…"

Hermione shook her head. "I doubt it."

"Are you sure it's alright that I come?" questioned Hermione, giving Fleur a quick glance before looking back at Harry.

"I can't imagine there's a rule against it," shrugged Harry before giving her a mirthful grin.

"I didn't mention it, but my papa will be 'ere," said Fleur, causing both Harry and Hermione to stop dead in their tracks.

"What!?" They yelled in unison.

Fleur laughed her beautiful melodic laugh. "Relax you two, mon père is a big teddy bear."

Both Harry and Hermione gave her a wry look but accepted her description of her father with the grace of someone on their way to the gallows.

"Relax, she says." Harry spoke aloud to no one in particular. "I am about to meet my girlfriend's father, while our girlfriend is right there. This won't be awkward at all."

"Don't be so dramaties, I am dating zhe both of you and my papa will understand." The last bit was whispered so softly, neither Harry nor Hermione heard it properly.

"What was that?" asked Hermione.

"Rien," Fleur sped up her pace.


The transfiguration class was a small bustle of activity, Harry caught the glimpse of Cedric and Amos Diggory, along with a kind looking woman who had to be his mother, and further back he saw Krum hugging a very petite lady, while a serious faced bearded man patted his back.

Before he could continue observing the room in search of an answer to the question of who had come for him, he'd found the answer in the form of Molly Weasley pulling him into one of her trademark hugs.

"Oh! Harry dear, it's so wonderful to see you!"

"Mrs. Weasley!" greeted Harry happily with what little air remained in his lungs.

She let go of him, before putting her hands on her side in a stance that is usually used when angry. "You're finally eating," she said approvingly.

"It's not your cooking," joked Harry. "But Hogwarts comes fairly close." He was definitely happy to see her. They weren't family, but it still meant a great deal to him that she'd come to support him.

"And what of us?" came an older man's voice, one who Harry would recognise in a heartbeat. He turned in the direction from which it had come.

"Professor Lupin! Bill!"

Harry surprised the man by moving in for a hug of his own accord. He'd become far more open with physical displays of affection since being in a relationship. In the meanwhile, Molly had pulled Hermione into her arms in as bone-breaking a fashion as always.

Remus patted Harry on the back as well before holding him back by his shoulders. "Now, now, I'm not your professor anymore. But my, I must say, you're looking more like your father with each passing day. Even if it is strange to see you without your glasses."

"I am glad to be rid of them," chuckled Harry, and was surprised to find he was nearing the older man in height.

Bill took the opportunity to offer his hand, which Harry grabbed in a strong handshake. "Alright there, Bill?"

"Can't complain an' yourself?"

Harry grinned. "Can't complain either."

"Brilliant. Oh, there's one more here to see you." And with that, Bill stepped aside to reveal the shaggy canine form of Sirius Black.

"Si-Snuffles," corrected Harry with the biggest grin. At this point, the anxiety that had plagued him during breakfast had long since evaporated.

Sirius, or rather "Snuffles" bounded up to Harry and nearly pushed him to the ground in his enthusiastic greeting. The sight of a young man with his "dog" was something which put a smile on the surrounding people's faces. While the few in the know regarding the canine's real identity found it extra amusing.

"Oh, sorry," realised Harry. "You all know Hermione of course." He grinned at her, and she laughed.

"And this," he took Fleur's hand and gently tugged her forward, "is Fleur, and I know Hermione agrees with me that she's the best thing to come into our lives."

Fleur blushed at Harry's introduction. She intertwined her fingers with his and offered the small group a soft smile. "Bonjour, 'Arry and 'Ermione 'ave told me all about you."

"It's a pleasure," greeted Bill congenially, even if he did have a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley stared quietly and intensely at Fleur. It was so intense in fact, that the rest of them instinctively stilled. Being under the stout woman's scrutinising gaze, Fleur felt the urge to squirm. Harry and Hermione both grew weary, ready to come to her defence.

But the Weasley matriarch surprised them by beaming at the young woman. "My kids have mentioned you in their letters. While Harry may not be a Weasley, he is very dear to us all – Hermione too," she smiled at the girl in question, who returned it with one of her own. "It's obvious that you mean a great deal to them. I look forward to getting to know you."

Fleur's throat closed up and she felt Harry squeeze her hand gently.

"I hate to bring up a difficult memory," continued Mrs. Weasley. "But I know you were the young lady that they," she glanced at Harry and Hermione, "saved. It is wonderful to see how well you've recovered, and while it pains me whenever they or any of my kids find themselves in dangerous situations, I am glad they were able to help when you needed it."

"A debt my family and I will never be able to repay," interrupted a strong, male voice. While Mrs. Weasley spoke, Fleur's parents and sister had approached from their blind spot but held back on interjecting until then.

"Alain Delacour, Fleur's father," introduced the man, holding his hand to the one nearest to himself, which happened to be Remus.

"Remus Lupin," replied the ex-professor as he returned the handshake.

"Bill Weasley."

"Molly Weasley."

"Are you?" Mr. Delacour shifted his gaze between Mrs. Weasley, Remus and Harry.

"Oh, no," laughed Molly, "but Harry is a friend of our family."

"Friend of his parents," explained Remus.

It wasn't the first time Harry or Hermione had seen Fleur's father, but that night at the world cup didn't give them much opportunity to really see the man. But now, in the well-lit room, things were far easier.

He wasn't the most imposing figure, only the barest slight bit taller than his wife. Features wise, he could be considered handsome, with a neatly trimmed, but short beard, which had just a few grey hairs mixed in. He dressed neatly as well, like a lawyer who made enough money to shop on the upper side of smart casual.

When the full focus of Mr. Delacour's attention landed on him, Harry suddenly found himself fixed in position. "Uh, Mr. Delacour—"

The tension was shattered by the pint-sized missile that was Gabrielle. She got tired of waiting and in the same manner as their previous meeting, threw her arms around Harry's waist and hugged him tightly.

"It's good to see you again, Gabrielle," laughed Harry good-naturedly.

The young girl let go of him and pulled her sister and Hermione together in an embrace which stretched the limits of what her short arms could wrap around.

Smiling at her youngest's antics, Apolline took the opportunity to greet Harry.

"Bonjour, 'Arry," she said with a warm smile, that really highlighted how beautiful she was.

"Bonjour, Madame Delacour," replied Harry with his accented attempts at French.

Remembering that Mr. Delacour was in fact still standing there, Harry quickly collected himself and returned his attention to the man who appeared unfazed at the interaction.

He offered his hand for a shake. "I'm sorry, bonjour Mr—"

"Call me Alain," Fleur's father interrupted, and took his hand. "You've earned that right and so much more." His voice was far less accented than the rest of his family's. Perhaps a result of more time spent using English.

Harry remembered something Vernon had told Dudley once, 'Always give a strong, firm handshake.'

It was one of the few things Harry learnt from the man which was actually good advice.

"We will talk soon," Mr. Delacour faced Hermione next. "You as well my dear, but first I must embarrass my daughter." And with that, he surprised Fleur, by grabbing and lifting her in a massive hug while twirling her around to the amusement of the room.

Fleur laughed joyously despite her raging blush. "Papa!"

What followed was a rapidly spoken few sentences in French, which Harry's fledgling understanding of the language only managed to catch a few words.

"I…. proud…. well done… my daughter…"

It was more than enough for him to get the gist of what was being said. Harry wondered if it was from Mr. Delacour that Gabrielle inherited her overzealous hugging nature from.

He felt Hermione nudge his shoulder with hers, they shared a meaningful glance, like two conspirators in witnessing another piece of the puzzle that was their French girlfriend. Namely, her father.

Once Alain lowered a now red-faced Fleur, he turned to the rest of them. The Weasleys and Remus were still a bit confused as to what to make of the strange man.

"Could we walk the grounds? This is my first time visiting Hogwarts, and from what I've seen, it is certainly beautiful."

"It is a lovely day outside," agreed Mrs. Weasley.

It was as she said, one of the rare warm days in the Scottish Highlands, which didn't fall within the summer period. While the ground was still damp, and the grass and leaves still had a bit of dew, the sun was out, and as long as you stayed out of the shade and within its rays, it was a wonderfully comfortable day.

Once out in the fresh air, Mr. Delacour met his wife's eyes in an unspoken request. Apolline nodded her agreement and distracted the Weasleys and Remus.

"Harry, Hermione, sorry, may I call you by your names? After Fleur's letters home, I feel like I already know you both." Fleur's father stopped walking, prompting the pair to stop as well.

Fleur, even though she realised that her father wanted to speak to her loves alone, tried to turn back and join them, but was stopped by her mother's hand on her arm. Fleur gave her mother a silent plea with her eyes, but her mother shook her head.

"They will be fine. Trust them."

She did trust them, but she couldn't help but glance back in worry as her mother led her back to the others. All of whom could read the room and knew not to interfere with the talk happening within a stone's throw of them. Snuffles though, kept his canine eyes firmly peeled on the trio conversing.

"Uh, sure—" said Harry.

Hermione nodded. "I don't mind."

"Thank you." Mr. Delacour smiled. "We don't have as much time as I'd like, so I'll get straight to it. I should have found the opportunity to do this sooner. What I said inside is the truth, my family owes you a debt which could never be paid. There's nothing in the world that could equal my daughters lives in value and were it not for your arrival," Alain swallowed and clenched his jaw at the thought, "I might have lost them both."

Alain breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. "If you ever need my help, as long as it is within my power, you will have it. And I'll start with bringing that dog of yours back to France with me." He threw a knowing look towards Snuffles, who barked once in reply.

Harry's eyes widened in joy, as Hermione gained a brilliant smile.

"Thank you, sir," beamed Harry, even if Mr. Delacour gave him leave to call him by his first name, it felt too odd.

"What you're doing means a lot to us, to Harry, thank you," said Hermione gratefully. She knew more than most, just how badly Harry wanted his godfather to be free and to have him as a part of his life. She couldn't help but share in his happiness when she saw that sparkle in his eyes.

"Uhm," began Hermione with a glance over her shoulder to where Fleur was. "You haven't broached the topic, but are you alright with…?"

"With the two of us being in a relationship with your daughter?" finished Harry with all the bravery he could muster when speaking to your girlfriend's father.

Mr. Delacour sighed. "If you asked me if this is what I ever envisioned for my Fleur, then the answer would be a resolute 'No'. If you asked me whether I have any misgivings regarding it, Yes… However," he spoke hurriedly when he noticed the pair in front of him tensing.

"I believe that over the years I have learnt to trust my daughter to make the right decisions, and to give her the space to make her own mistakes as well. Whether this relationship she's found herself a part of happens to be among those mistakes is yet to be seen."

"It isn't," protested Harry adamantly.

"Sir," began Hermione. "If you asked me a year ago if this is where I would have found myself, I would have laughed. But it is where I am, where we are, and neither of us would trade it for anything."

Harry rustled his hair in a manner Hermione knew meant he was nervous.

"I—I'm not the best with words… Fleur… uhm, I—we've only known Fleur for a few months, but being around her, it feels so natural, it's like she's always been there, from the start. I-She keeps me, keeps us grounded. I love her, Sir, and even if it is unconventional, I love Hermione too." He ended with far more strength in his voice and eyes than when he began, as he stared into Mr. Delacour's face with an unwavering stubbornness.

What Harry did not realise was that this was the first time he'd said out loud that he loved them. Whether it was a product of his upbringing, or the understanding of the depth of his mother's love for him. Saying 'he loved' had never been the easiest for him.

Hermione ignored Mr. Delacour and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek. It was nothing like the deep and electrifying kisses they'd shared before, but still, it carried a weight of emotion, an intimacy, which was nearly palpable.

"I love you too," she whispered in his ear.

Mr. Delacour interrupted their moment. "While I am of the stance that a relationship should be restricted to a single pair, no more. I am not so close-minded to believe that it is the only path to a happy union. My wife has spoken long and hard to me regarding her observations of the two of you and my daughter. So, I will not interfere. And while I am tempted to put the fear of God in the both of you, I know my Fleur, and she would not appreciate it. So, instead," he looked at the silent Harry and Hermione with an imploring gaze, "I'm asking you, as a father, please, don't hurt her."

Harry grit his teeth. "We have no inten—"

"Of course, you don't. But you need to understand, hurt doesn't have to be something you say or do. Tell me, both of you. If heaven forbid, something happened to Fleur, if she was taken from us. How would you feel?"

The thought of losing Fleur was terrifying to them, and it must have shown on their faces. Mr. Delacour's voice softened to a gentle timbre.

"You see. I know you're all still young, but I've spoken to your godfather Harry. I know that your life is not an easy one, not a safe one. From what he's told me, that applies to you as well Hermione."

She nodded defiantly. "I refuse to let Harry face things alone if I can help it."

Harry's hands were balled into fists. "I wish I could, but I can't help it."

The older man placed a hand on his shoulder and looked between the both of them. "Just promise me the two of you will be careful and take the fact that you mean something to each other and to Fleur into consideration before rushing headfirst into things."

"I promise," said Hermione.

"You have my word, sir." Harry said with a knot in his chest.

"Hm, I'll be the judge of that, words can be cheap. We'll see in time. But for now, enough of this heaviness. Let's join the others before Fleur comes over here."


It was with worried eyes that Fleur watched them approach. She completely ignored the conversations going on around her. Even Gabrielle, who would normally become irritated at being ignored, could tell that there wasn't much use in attempting to draw Fleur's attention to herself.

Her father was in the lead, and once Fleur met his eyes, he smiled at her and beckoned her towards her two paramours with a tilt of his head. Fleur needed no further prompting and immediately hurried to meet Harry and Hermione. She grabbed a hand from each and felt her spirits lift when they both gave a squeeze in return.

"Ow did it go?" She asked rapidly, with a furrowed and worried brow.

In lieu of an explanation, Harry lifted Fleur's hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm. Fleur felt the tension bleed out of her at the tenderness. Harry stepped into her space and placed another soft kiss, this time on her pink lips. "It went just fine."

Hermione followed suit, and cupped Fleur's cheek with her free hand, and despite Mrs. Weasley being not far, she still allowed herself to savour the feel of her girlfriend.

"It went well. Your father made us promise to be careful though," said Hermione to a dazed Fleur.

"Fleur."

"Oui, 'Arry?" replied the young veela, curious at his serious tone.

"I may have told your father that I'm in love with you," he began.

Fleur spluttered and laughed. "Quoi? You did? I'm trying to remember if you 'ave told me zhis before?

"Uh… I love you?"

"Bien, Je t'aime, 'Arry. Je t'aime, 'Ermione," giggled Fleur.

"Je t'aime, Fleur, and I've been in love with Harry for a long time," said Hermione with a soft laugh.

The moment would have been perfect, had a grimy black dog not taken the opportunity to run between their legs, tripping them into a mass of limbs and yelps.

If dogs could laugh, the sound Sirius made sounded like a dog's terrible attempt at impersonating a hyena. It would have been creepy, were it not made adorable by the snickering Gabrielle.

Fleur, exceedingly annoyed that their moment had been ruined, drew her wand in an instant. Sirius, with the reflexes of a much younger dog, dodged the colour changing charm, which turned the grass behind him into a hideous array of mauves and magentas. Despite his dark fur, Sirius visibly paled and prepared himself to be at the receiving end of Fleur's spell fire.

Molly Weasley had a fond expression as she watched from her place beside her oldest son.

"It's good to see him so happy."

"Zhey are good for each ozher," commented Apolline, before her tone took on a hint of melancholy. "My Fleur 'as not been zhis open in public in many years."

"From the time I've spent around him, I'd say the same about Harry," replied Molly.

She sighed. "When I heard that Harry and Hermione had formed a relationship with a young veela woman, I was confused. On one hand, I was happy for the two of them, they're both splendid young adults and I care for them both. That they found each other was wonderful. Then, on the other hand, I felt terrible for my youngest, she had the biggest crush on Harry, you see."

"Really?" queried Bill, curiously.

"Ginny could barely stay in the same room as Harry," chuckled Molly with a hand covering her mouth.

"Huh…"

"Anyhow," continued Molly. "The part that scared me, and I know it wasn't really my place, but I knew nothing about the 'French veela', and as I'm sure you've noticed, there's a lot of misconceptions here."

"We know," said Apolline solemnly. "My visits to England 'ave rarely been wizhout zheir share of negativity."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Remus with a weary knowingness. He'd certainly dealt with his own share of prejudice.

"It's alright, we've learnt to live with it…"

"But you shouldn't have to," ground out Molly heatedly. "And that's why I want to apologise to you. I believed the nonsense that is mistaken for the truth, and were it not for my husband, Arthur, I might have made a terrible mistake."

She looked warmly at her son. "Their father, bless him, is a far better person than I am. He found me sitting out on our patio by my lonesome. Now, Arthur may come across to people as silly, with the way he likes to tinker with muggle toys, and he's never gotten the most respect at work. But he's the kindest man I'd ever met, and it makes me so proud to know that while my kids may have their own failings, they've all got that bit of Arthur in them."

Bill couldn't help but swell a bit at that.

"I'm sorry, I got a bit distracted."

"It's alright," said Alain.

"Where was I? Oh yes, I told Arthur about my worries, about this 'veela' that's ensnared Harry and Hermione. He asked me to ignore everything I've heard or read about veela, and when the chance comes that I get to meet her. Leave none of it in mind, and simply see what was in front of me."

"What did you see?" asked Apolline curiously, without a hint of anger at learning that Molly was among those who stereotyped veela.

Molly Weasley smiled gently. "I saw a young woman with exceedingly kind eyes, who is cared for deeply and in turn cares deeply. She's also strong, confident. Harry and Hermione were both ready to come to her defence too. That's good, you should always be willing to stand up for your loved ones, even if it's up against somebody you respect."

Apolline smiled at the praise for her daughter. "I'm 'appy you were able to keep an open mind. Even in France, it can be difficult for veela. Too many believe zhe stories and rumours, zhey can be especially 'ard for a young veela to bear."

"I think," began Alain. "I'd very much love to meet this husband of yours."

Mrs. Weasley looked towards the scene of Harry trying to restore Sirius's fur to its original colour. While Fleur scowled at the turquoise-coloured dog who wagged his tail innocently. Hermione whispered something conspiringly to a mischievously grinning Gabrielle.

"You're all more than welcome to our home," offered Mrs. Weasley. "Perhaps you can join us for a Sunday lunch during the break. I don't know what Harry's plans are, but he has an open invitation to spend his summers at the Burrow."

"Zhat sounds lovely," said Apolline, before glancing at her husband.

"Fleur wouldn't happen to have any cousins by any chance?" piped in Bill, drawing laughter out of the others and a chastisement from his mother. Even then, Molly couldn't hide her amusement.

"Bill!"

"Depends," started Apolline with a grin, "...'Ow do you feel about zheir fazher being a 'itwizard?"


The sun had begun its descent while the excited murmurings of the crowded stands filled the air. The champions stood in the open area with the waning shade of the large maze looming over them.

Harry's mind drifted to the unveiling of the third task.

"Welcome, welcome, champions! I hope you're all excited to finally learn what the third task is going to be?" bellowed Ludo Bagman as the small group of TriWizard contestants approached. Behind the man, the grounds were filled with a strange pattern of short hedges.

"Now, it's still growing," continued the man excitedly as they arrived, without even giving them a chance to greet. "But who can tell me what it is?"

"Maze," answered Krum.

"That's right, and if you think it's going to be just a simple maze, you wouldn't be more wrong. Along with what the tournament and the Ministry arranges, Mr. Hagrid will also be providing an assortment of magical creatures—"

Harry and to Fleur's surprise, Cedric both groaned beside her, drawing a curious glance from the beautiful veela.

"So, we have to get through the maze? First out the other side wins?" asked Cedric.

"Pretty much, yes."

Mr. Bagman continued with some pointless details, and a run over of the rules. Which basically amounted to restricting them to only their wands. No other tools will be permitted inside the maze.

Once they were dismissed, and on their way back to the castle. Fleur asked why the news of Hagrid had drawn such reactions.

"Uhm, Hagrid isn't exactly the most reasonable when it comes to magical creatures," said Cedric in an attempt to explain.

Harry laughed darkly and shook his head. "Hagrid's brilliant, but he tried to raise an Acromantula when he was still a student and thinks 'Fluffy' is an appropriate name for a Cerberus."

Viktor paled considerably, while Fleur's response was limited to, "Oh."

"Ready, Harry?" voiced Cedric, snapping him out of his memories.

Harry shrugged. "About as ready as can be I guess."

"Honestly," he continued. "I think at this point, I just want us to make it out in one piece."

"Oui," agreed Fleur. She was nervous, they all were. But the knot in her stomach felt worse, it was like her instincts were screaming at her.

Harry winced and rubbed at the scar on his forehead.

"Are you alright?" asked Fleur worriedly.

In the audience, Hermione had seen his hand go to his scar and felt her nerves climb. It was never a good sign when his scar hurt.

"Stings a bit, is all," answered Harry.

The crowd quieted as Professor Dumbledore approached the champions, the other heads and the ministry members followed behind him.

"Champions," greeted the old man. "I hope you're all prepared for the task ahead of you?"

At their assurances, he continued. "In a moment, at the sound of the cannon, we will begin. Remember, you are allowed only your wands. Now, the maze will test you, but I am confident you will all triumph."

Professor Dumbledore studied each of their faces before he nodded and left them alone to address the audience. He took his place in the centre, with the rest of the tournament committee fanned out behind him.

Quiet filled the air, as everyone waited for him to speak.

"Good evening. In a few minutes, our champions will face the third, and final task of the Triwizard Tournament! Within the maze behind me, we have placed the Triwizard Cup. The first to reach it will be named winner!

The scores from the previous two tasks will be used to determine the order at which the champions will enter the maze. In first place, Cedric Diggory!"

The crowd screamed their cheers, none as loud as the group wearing the yellow of Hufflepuff.

"In second place, Harry Potter! And tied for third place, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum!"

With each name, the cheers ran out, but none were as loud as those received by Cedric.

"At the first cannon blast, Mr. Diggory will enter the maze, on the second, Mr. Potter, and on the third, both Miss Delacour, and Mr. Krum will enter." As Dumbledore said that, four paths opened in the maze.

"Shit," whispered Harry, loud enough for Fleur to hear. They'd planned on entering together, or just waiting for the other once inside. But if they're all entering from a different entrance, that wouldn't be possible.

She hummed her agreement, a nervous knot in her stomach wound all the more tightly.

"Within the maze, our contestants will face all manner of dangers," Dumbledore turned away from the audience and addressed the champions, "Tread carefully, but if at any point you are unable to continue. You are free to forfeit by firing red sparks from your wand."

"With that out of the way, we wish our champions the best. Mr. Filch, on the count of three."

The crowd only then noticed the Hogwarts caretaker standing at the ready behind a cannon which was up on a high stand.

"One. Two. Thr—"

The canon blasted in a thunderous bang, which caused the stands to shake as everyone was taken by surprise.

"Good luck," said Harry, drawing a nervous smile from Cedric right before he disappeared into the depths of the dark maze.

Each second after that felt like a lifetime to Harry. The sound of the crowd slowly faded away, his palms felt sweaty, he could hear his own breathing, feel his anxious heartbeat in his chest. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, in, count to three, out, in, count to three, out, and repeat. He could smell the grass, the moisture from the nearing night, the hints of Fleur's perfume.

When he opened his eyes, he felt the slightest bit calmer.

The second bast of the cannon ripped through the surroundings, and through his calm. He jerked in surprise and looked around. All eyes were on him.

"Go, chéri," encouraged Fleur, her hand brushing against his.

Harry met her blue eyes, which shone in the light of the setting sun. She was nervous, same as him, but her eyes still held encouragement. He grabbed a hold of her hand and squeezed it, trying to offer her the same strength that she gave him. He could see her relax slightly, just enough that you had to be looking for it to notice.

With his renewed resolve, he steeled himself, and looked forward and with another deep breath, he entered the maze. He did not see the pair of weathered eyes staring at his back with their sinister gleam.


END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Future chapters of my work are available in advance on my P atreon (Office_Sloth), please consider supporting my work. You'll have my utmost gratitude. Link can be found in my profile.