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Harry slowly got to his feet taking the note that Dumbledore had quickly written, wondering just how well his seemingly improved relationship with Snape was going to take him walking into class more than thirty minutes late … even with a note from the headmaster.

Turning he headed to towards the door, before stopping when he heard Dumbledore coughing to get his attention.

"For what it's worth, Harry, … I'd seriously recommend trying a Spicy Bubotuber … they may sound unappetizing, but they truly are a delight." He said with a smile, grabbing one of the treats, which looked as unsavory as the name made it out to be, and popping it into his mouth.

Shaking his head, Harry left the office, having ignored the proffered bowl of treats, trying to hide a smile.


As Harry cautiously made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons, he couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. He knew he was already late for Potions class, and the last thing he wanted was to incur the wrath of Professor Snape. With each step, he silently hoped to be able to slip into the classroom unnoticed.

After pushing open the heavy door to the potions classroom and stepping inside, Harry winced as it slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud. Instantly, all eyes in the room turned toward him, including the piercing gaze of Professor Snape. The intensity of the professor's stare made Harry feel as though he had just stepped into a den of hungry dragons.

Professor Snape's expression tightened, and for a moment, seeing Snape's lips part as if to deliver a reprimand, Harry braced himself for a scathing remark. However, to his surprise, Snape paused, only to close his eyes and then shake his head. With a brief sigh, Snape reopened his eyes, fixing them on Harry.

"I trust you have a good reason for being late, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his tone detached and clipped.

Harry nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness wash over him. He reached into his robes to retrieve the note Professor Dumbledore had given him, intending to offer it as an explanation. However, before he could present it, Snape shook his head dismissively.

"That is fine, Potter. You can drop the note on your desk after class," Snape stated curtly. "I do trust you will be able to find your seat without any more interruptions."

Harry glanced around the Potions classroom, his eyes sweeping over the familiar faces of his Gryffindor classmates. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he noticed Ron sitting with Lavender, the two sitting slightly closer than most of the students in the classroom. Hermione's guilty expression caught his attention next, and he saw her sitting beside Neville, her eyes flicking apologetically toward him before quickly averting.

Harry continued his scan of the Gryffindor side of the room. It seemed that everyone was already paired up, leaving no empty seats for him to occupy. Just as he began to resign himself to the awkward prospect of sitting alone, Professor Snape's sharp voice cut through the air, drawing Harry's attention back to the front of the room.

"Sometime today, Mr. Potter," Snape called out, his tone laced with impatience. "There is an empty seat next to Ms. Greengrass. I trust you can find it."

As Snape turned and strode purposefully back to the front of the room, Harry found himself staring after him, his mind buzzing with a mix of confusion and gratitude. Harry blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the almost cordial tone in Snape's voice. It was a far cry from the usual coldness and disdain he was accustomed to receiving from the Potions professor. Despite his astonishment, Harry felt a swell of appreciation for Snape's unexpected gesture of civility.

Trying to mask his smile of surprise at his ongoing streak of good fortune regarding Professor Snape's attitude towards him, Harry made his way over to where Daphne Greengrass was seated. As he passed by his friends, Ron and Hermione, he couldn't help but notice the worry etched on their faces. Leaning in close, he offered them a reassuring whisper, assuring them that everything was alright, and he would talk to them after class.

Settling into the seat beside Daphne, Harry nodded politely towards her before retrieving his quills and fresh parchment from his bag.

Before Harry could fully organize his supplies, Professor Snape's voice sliced through the quiet atmosphere of the room once more, commanding the attention of the entire class. Straightening in his seat, Harry focused his attention on the professor, mentally preparing himself for the lesson ahead.

"Now that we have reviewed everything we covered with our wit-sharpening potions," Snape began, his voice cutting through the air with practiced precision, "we are going to move along to antidotes. We will be starting with the simplest of them ..."

A brief pause followed, as he looked over, interrupted by the eager movement of Hermione's hand. However, Snape's dismissive gesture halted her before she could speak, continuing right where he had left off.

"... even though there are some of you in this class who would probably benefit a great deal with an entire year spent learning about ways to sharpen your wits," Snape continued, his words laced with a hint of scorn. A small smirk played across his lips as he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering momentarily on Ron, Neville, and Seamus before drifting towards the Slytherin students, seeming to ling on Crabbe and Goyle for a significant amount of time.

Harry felt a small surge of satisfaction as he realized that Snape hadn't singled him out with his gaze, as he definitely would have done in previous years. It was a subtle victory, but one that spoke volumes about the current state of their relationship, or at least the lack of animosity. With a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, Harry turned his attention back to Snape as the professor continued with the lesson.

"So, first of all, let's …"

Snape's words were cut short as Hermione's hand shot up into the air with such determination that it seemed to defy gravity itself. Her arm waved back and forth, practically demanding attention.

This time, Snape paused noticeably longer, his dark eyes flickering in Hermione's direction.

Hermione, misinterpreting Snape's pause as an invitation to speak, wasted no time in voicing her question. "But, Professor Snape, …" she began, her voice carrying a hint of concern, "… we were supposed to start with the calming draughts once we finished with the wit-sharpening potions ... according to your syllabus and the notes of the previous students, antidotes were one of the last topics covered this year."

The classroom fell silent as all eyes turned to Snape, awaiting his response. Harry couldn't help but admire Hermione's boldness, even as he braced himself for Snape's inevitable rebuttal.

Snape's steely gaze bore into Hermione for a lingering moment, his expression a mixture of disdain and irritation. A small sneer tugged at the corners of his lips, but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a facade of cool indifference.

"Oh ... I'm sorry, Ms. Granger," Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm, each word laden with thinly veiled contempt. "I had apparently mistakenly been under the assumption that I was the professor of this class. But as you so clearly seem to know exactly what we should be doing and when we are doing it ... perhaps you'd like to come up and enlighten us all."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Hermione's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Harry could feel a flicker of anger stirring within him as he watched his friend shrink back into her seat. He knew from personal experience that Hermione possessed a wealth of knowledge when it came to potions, and likely could have explained the material at least as well as Professor Snape could have. After all, he was certain she had already read the textbook several times and she had spent countless hours tutoring him and Ron during their first three years at Hogwarts, patiently explaining the intricacies of potion-making until even they had been able to pass Professor Snape's class.

Observing Hermione's retreat into her seat, Snape gave a curt nod before shifting his attention back to the rest of the class. His dark eyes scanned the room, his demeanor as authoritative as it was demeaning.

"Now, as I was saying ..." Snape's voice cut through the air, the distinct edge of impatience evident in his tone. "… we are starting with antidotes, as I assume some of you will be foolish enough, or perhaps ..." He paused, his gaze locking onto Harry with a calculated intensity, "... will find yourself to be unlucky enough that you find yourself in a situation where you require an antidote."

Harry felt the weight of Snape's stare, a sensation he had grown all too familiar with over the years. But this time, instead of feeling unnerved by the professor's gaze, he found himself oddly unaffected, feeling that it lacked its usual hostility. Eventually, Snape let his gaze relax from Harry and weep over the class.

"Do any of you know of something on the grounds of Hogwarts that would require an antidote to treat?" Snape's question hung in the air, prompting a flurry of activity as hands began to rise tentatively.

Snape's gaze swept over the sea of eager faces, lingering momentarily on each raised hand. But then, his eyes froze on the last student to raise their hand, a flicker of surprise flashing across his features.

"Yes ... Mr. Crabbe," Snape acknowledged, his tone surprised.

"Ummm ... a poison," came Crabbe's hesitant response.

A ripple of poorly suppressed laughter erupted throughout the room at Crabbe's answer. Harry couldn't help but struggle to suppress a chuckle himself, the sight of Snape's shocked expression almost enough to break his composure. As he appeared to be struggling not to react to the answer one of his Slytherin's had given.

After a moment to collect himself, Snape shook his head in evident disbelief, choosing not to dignify Crabbe's answer with a response as he scanned over the remaining raised hands.

"Put your hands down," Snape instructed tersely, his patience clearly wearing thin. "In an attempt to save myself from hearing another answer ... like the previous one, I'm just going to tell you."

The classroom fell into a hushed silence, hands slowly lowering, as Snape continued, his voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and frustration. "You can use antidotes for many of the magical creatures that are found within this building. For instance, Doxys can be found within the abandoned rooms in the castle and can release a particularly nasty venom that needs to be treated without delay."

Snape continued, his gaze sweeping across the room with a steely intensity. "Additionally, as I am sure some of you have noticed, Professor Sprout has a wide variety of plants that have important uses. But some, for instance, the fanged geranium, can release particularly unpleasant toxins or poisons."

"And finally, …" Snape paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto Harry's, feeling a slight prickling sensation at the back of his neck as Snape's gaze lingered on him for a fraction longer than necessary … almost as if Snape's words were directed at him personally, "… it is rumored that merpeople coat their weapons with a blend of poisons that they culture from underwater animals found at the bottom of the lakes they dwell within ..."

Before Snape could continue, a scoff echoed through the classroom, breaking the relative quiet atmosphere. Harry looked around to see that it had been Ron.

"Pfff ... I thought he wanted examples of things we would find around Hogwarts," Ron blurted out to Lavender, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Unfortunately for Ron, his scoff and following comment was louder than he had anticipated, drawing the immediate attention of Professor Snape. The Potions Master spun on his heel to face Ron, his expression one of thinly veiled irritation.

"That'll be ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Snape announced, his voice cutting through the classroom. "Besides, I didn't hear you offer any examples."

Ron's face fell at the deduction of house points, a sheepish expression crossing his features as he realized his mistake. He muttered an apology under his breath as Snape turned his attention back to the rest of the class.

"As I was in the process of saying," Snape resumed, his tone clipped and businesslike, "I'll expect for you all to pick an example of a poison or a toxin from around the Hogwarts area and start researching your selection, making sure the antidote is a year-appropriate potion. Next week, you will present your selected idea, and should I approve, you will start brewing the corresponding antidote."

The classroom buzzed with the sound of rustling parchment and murmured conversations as students began to absorb Snape's instructions. Snape paused briefly, scanning the room to ensure everyone was paying attention before continuing.

"This week, we will start brewing one of the simpler antidotes that has basic steps found in the brewing of most antidotes. Now, if you turn to page three hundred and ninety-four, you'll find the instructions for brewing, and you are to begin. I expect a bottled sample of your antidote on my desk by the end of the class."

With the final comment, Snape fell silent, observing as the students scrambled to retrieve their textbooks and turn to the designated page. Satisfied that his instructions had been understood, Snape nodded curtly before striding purposefully toward the desk Harry shared with Daphne Greengrass.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's voice cut through the air as he approached, drawing Harry's attention away from the textbook he had been reaching for. "Because you were late, unlike your peers, I want twenty-nine inches of parchment from you relating to making and applying the antidote, on whichever topic you choose ... actually to make it easier, you can choose between one of the examples I provided ... and should I not like your selection, I'll make you rewrite it."

Harry's heart sank at Snape's instruction, a wave of frustration washing over him. Twenty-nine inches of parchment was no small task, especially on top of the regular coursework he already had to manage. He cast a sideways glance at Daphne, noticing the slight stiffening of her posture beside him.

"Is that for all of us, Professor Snape?" Daphne's voice held a note of concern as she spoke up, seeking clarification.

Snape shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "No, Ms. Greengrass," he replied curtly. "I believe Mr. Potter could use a little help ... in this class. And perhaps this will help him decide to come to class on time." Snape finished with a self-satisfied smirk, his words carrying a hint of mockery.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Snape turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward Ron, who seemed more interested in his desk mate than in following Snape's instructions. Snape gave Ron a light smack on the head as he passed by, effectively grabbing his attention.

"Page three hundred and ninety-four," Snape's voice rang out once more, a reminder to the class to stay on task. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment bubbling within him at Snape's unfair treatment, but he knew better than to voice his frustrations aloud. With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention back to his textbook, already dreading the extra assignment that lay ahead.

Sensing Daphne's gaze still on him, he turned slightly, meeting her eyes, and was met with a look of sympathy that mirrored his own frustration.

"That sucks, Potter," Daphne remarked, her voice tinged with genuine concern. "It really seemed like he had been treating you better ... I mean, he didn't even deduct house points or give you a detention for entering late ... but I guess he was waiting for this ..."

Harry nodded slowly, the unfairness of Snape's assignment gnawing at him. It felt like a deliberate reversal of their ceasefire.

" … if you need help, I am your partner for the day, so I wouldn't mind helping you pick a topic or helping with your research before you write it," Daphne offered, her voice soft but sincere.

Harry's eyes widened slightly in surprise at her unexpected offer of support. "Thanks?" he replied, his gratitude tinged with hesitation.

Daphne's smile and light laughter brought a hint of warmth to the air, momentarily easing the tension that lingered between his shoulder blades. "No worries," she reassured Harry, her voice soft and earnest. "Not all assignments are bad. I find that if you give an assignment an honest effort, you can learn about something you didn't really know about and will be that much more prepared for class … or real life if you are really good. And I am not willing to let Hermione get any farther ahead of me in this class ..." she paused looking around the Slytherin side of the room before looking back at him, "… and for what it's worth, not all Slytherins are against you."

However, Harry only vaguely heard the last part of what she had been saying, his mind was already elsewhere, a flicker of realization igniting within him as he recalled the upcoming second task of the Triwizard Tournament. It dawned on him that Snape's seemingly unfair assignment might actually be his way of indirectly preparing Harry for the challenges that lay ahead.

As he leaned over to retrieve his textbook from his bag, Harry shook his head slightly, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a jumble of confusion and apprehension. "If this is Snape's attempt at indirect help ... at least I'm glad that he isn't taking a more direct approach ... that might really hurt," he muttered quietly to himself under his breath.

With a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Harry placed his book on the desk before him and turned to page three hundred and ninety-four.

- HP - HP - HP - HP - HP -

As the Potions class drew to a close, Hermione and Ron hurried over to Harry's desk, their voices overlapping in a frenzied attempt to be heard. Their excited chatter filled the air, a whirlwind of questions and concerns that Harry noticed left Daphne with a smile as she packed up her belongings.

"Harry, where were you? You showed up so ..." Ron began, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"Was it the conversation with Professor Dumbledore that ran long?" Hermione interjected eagerly, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Merlin, you were there that entire time? How long did you two ..." Ron trailed off, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"What did he say? What did you talk about?" Hermione pressed, leaning in closer to Harry with anticipation.

"Harry, mate, you said we'd chat once to talked to Professor Dumbledore and try to explain what's been going on with …"

Harry chuckled at his friends' barrage of questions, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ok ... ok. Hold on half a second and maybe I can try to get a word in, and then I can try to explain."

His attempt at humor elicited a chuckle from Daphne as she finished packing up her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder with a nonchalant ease. Ron shot her a brief glare before turning his attention back to Harry.

Ignoring Ron's look, Daphne offered Harry a supportive smile. "I'll drop off our antidote on Professor Snape's desk, Potter. Let me know if, and when, you want to meet up," Daphne declared, her voice carrying a note of finality as she strode purposefully to the front of the classroom, placing their potion on Professor Snape's desk. With a graceful turn, she turned to join her friends, Tracey Davis and Blaine Zabini, who were waiting for her by the door. The trio exited the classroom together, leaving Harry to face the bewildered expressions of his friends.

As Daphne disappeared from view, Harry turned back to Hermione and Ron, fully intending to fill them in on his conversation with Professor Dumbledore. However, he was halted in his tracks by the look of shock and disappointment etched on Ron's face. Before Harry could even open his mouth to speak, Ron beat him to it, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"Mate, are you are meeting up with Greengrass? You ... you can't do that. She's a Slytherin," Ron exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Harry shook his head, having momentarily forgotten about Ron's deep-seated generalized hate against all Slytherins. "I might, Ron," he replied calmly, his tone firm but measured.

Ron's mouth dropped open in astonishment even further, seemingly unable to comprehend Harry's willingness to associate with a member of the rival house.

"She offered to help me with the assignment Snape gave me on my choice of antidotes, for being late."

"She ... what? You can't trust that," Ron protested, his voice laced with skepticism.

Harry chuckled softly as he turned to his friend, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I'm pretty sure that if I do agree to meet up and accept her help, I will not find that this has been some ruse to embarrass or hurt me," he reassured Ron, his tone laced with amusement. "Ron, even you've got to admit that after everything that has happened to me, it's unlikely that the most devious plot that could be thought up would involve one of our classmates offering to help me with an assignment ..." He trailed off, casting a pointed look at Ron, his eyebrow raised expectantly.

Ron stared back at Harry, his expression torn between skepticism and uncertainty. He glanced toward the door through which Daphne had exited, then back at Harry, as if searching for a way to explain the scenario to his friend. "But, Harry ... she's a Slytherin," he protested simply.

Shaking his head sadly, Harry turned to face Ron fully, his gaze steady and earnest. "Mate, not all Slytherins are bad people, …" he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. He paused, remembering something he had seen in Grimmauld's Place on the Black family tree. Something that prompted a smile to appear on his lips.

"… in fact, wasn't your grandmother a Black?" Harry continued, his smile widening as he watched realization dawn on Ron's features. "I thought I heard that almost every Black was sorted into Slytherin."

"My nan …" Ron mumbled out, looking shocked at Harry, leaving him with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had managed to chip away at Ron's prejudices, even if only slightly. However, Ron quickly shook his head violently. "You can't trust a Greengrass." He said defiantly as he looked towards Hermione, looking for her support.

Hermione, however, responded with a calm and measured tone, shaking her head slowly. "Sorry, Ron, she's alright to me. She's in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and she's not a bad person. She's certainly no Malfoy ..." Hermione's voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "... although, now that I actually think of it, Malfoy certainly hasn't seemed to be as ... well ... as Malfoy-esque this entire year." She shrugged her shoulders, her attention drifting away from Ron as she turned back to Harry.

Ron stared at Hermione in shock, as if her words were a betrayal.

She turned back to Harry, her expression a mixture of confusion. "Although, Harry, you don't need to ask her for help. I mean sure she's an alright person and she's smart, but I'm smarter. You could always use me ..." Hermione's words trailed off abruptly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized how her statement sounded. "... I mean, use me for help ... you can always ask me … I could help you."

Harry nodded, a fond smile playing on his lips as he observed Hermione's blush after her unintentional slip of words. "I know you could, and I know that you are most of the reason that Ron and I passed some of our classes in our first three years," he acknowledged warmly, his gaze shifting between Hermione and Ron, choosing to ignore the disapproving look Ron was giving him, focusing instead back on Hermione. "But you are more than just a homework helper ... you mean more to me than that."

Hermione's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in response to Harry's heartfelt words. She appeared to struggle to find a suitable reply, seemingly overcome by a rush of emotions at his statement.

Harry glanced back and forth between his two friends, sensing the need to change the subject to something less emotionally charged. "Okay, but I meant what I said before about starting to talk about what I've been up to and where I've been, if you want to talk about that instead," he offered, his tone gentle but firm.

Both Hermione and Ron nodded in unison, the emotions from their previous conversations dissipating in the face of Harry's suggestion.

Before Harry could begin, however, the sound of the door to the potion ingredient room slamming shut echoed through the classroom, causing all three of them to freeze in place. Their eyes snapped to the source of the noise, locking onto Professor Snape's stern gaze as he stood at the threshold, his presence casting a shadow over the room.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger, what are you three still doing here?" Snape's voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding. He fixed them with a piercing gaze, his expression unreadable as he stood at the doorway of the potion ingredient room.

"If you have nothing better to do with your time," Snape continued, his tone dripping with thinly veiled disdain, "I can get you some of the first-year cauldrons that need an intense amount of cleaning. It seems some of them were doing their best impressions of your friend Mr. Longbottom and burnt their potions onto the bottom of them to the point where magic has been unable to remove the concoction and it will need manual scrubbing. However, unlike your friend's previous cauldrons, at least these remain salvageable."

Hermione shook her head hastily, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, professor, we were just talking to Harry about why he was late and his assignment," she explained, her voice tinged with nervousness.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Snape's lips. "Ah ... perhaps if you are so interested in Mr. Potter's assignment and why he was late, I can assign you your own twenty-nine-inch parchment write-up on a poison and corresponding antidote so you shall be able to join Mr. Potter while he is researching his topic?" Snape suggested, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

Ron's response was immediate and resolute. He vigorously shook his head, his eyes wide with apprehension, as he hastily gathered the last of Harry's remaining supplies. Without waiting for further discussion, he grabbed Harry and Hermione by the arms, guiding them out of the classroom and into the hallway, eager to escape Snape's gaze.

Harry's smile widened as Ron shoved the last of the items into his hands, carefully stowing them away in his bag before looking up. "I'll explain everything, or at least try to start explaining everything ... but a hallway isn't the ideal place, and the common room is going to be too busy. I know a place we can go ... it might make this conversation easier. But this chat is going to take a while. If you're okay with missing supper in the Great Hall, I can grab some food for all of us, and we can start our talk now."

Hermione nodded immediately, her curiosity evident in the earnestness of her expression, while Ron paused, appearing to weigh the prospect of skipping a meal. Eventually, he nodded slowly, meeting Harry's gaze. "As long as you make sure to grab enough."

Harry laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I won't let you starve, Ron. I'll grab the food now and meet you there."

Hermione turned to Harry, her brow furrowed in thought. "Where are we meeting? An empty classroom? The trophy room? The library?"

Harry's smile widened, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "I know someplace better," he replied cryptically, shaking his head. "Meet me in the seventh-floor corridor, near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the ballet dancing trolls."

"But there's nothing there ... is there?" Hermione asked, her skepticism evident in the quirk of her eyebrows.

"Don't worry, I'll show you as soon as I get there," Harry reassured her with another smile before turning on his heel and heading off in the direction of the painting of a fruit bowl, excitement coursing through him at the prospect of revealing one of Hogwarts' hidden secrets to his friends.

- HP - HP - HP - HP - HP -

After gathering what he hoped would be enough food to satisfy even Ron, a request the house-elves had seemed only too happy to help provide, Harry made his way out of the dungeon, the aroma of the evening meal already wafting through the air as the house-elves finalized their preparations for the evening meal. Ascending the stairs towards the grand staircase, he made his way towards the grand staircase prepared to head up to the seventh floor.

However, as he rounded a blind corner, his arms laden with the bundle of food the elves had generously provided, Harry collided with someone rushing around the corner, nearly causing the contents of his bundle to spill. Before he could even register who had bumped into him, a familiar voice pierced through the commotion.

"Leave me alone already, for the last time I just ..." the voice trailed off abruptly as the speaker realized their mistake, "... oh, excusez-moi. I thought you were someone else ..." Fleur paused, her eyes widening in recognition as she locked gazes with Harry. "Oh, Monsieur Potter. Pardonez-moi. I did not mean to run into you or yell at you ..." She sighed, frustration evident in her tone. "Ever since I arrived at this school, the attention is non-stop. Including this last week, where I have been constantly followed and 'accidentally' bumped into by ... well, I don't know his name, but he looks and sounds like a gorille when he talks ... a gorilla, I believe you call it."

Harry chuckled softly, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with Worthington ... or Crabbe ... or Goyle ... or … Sorry, your description doesn't do much to narrow the list."

Fleur joined in his laughter, her melodious voice carrying a hint of resignation. "It is alright, it is not your fault," she replied, shaking her head slightly. Despite her light-hearted tone, there was a trace of bitterness in her words. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Her expression softened into a gentle smile as she regarded Harry. "I must say, it is nice finding someone with whom I can actually have a conversation, without them staring uncontrollably or being unable to speak ... Even when I'm fully in control of my allure, the attention never stops."

Harry nodded in understanding, a sense of empathy washing over him. "I can only imagine. Even I am sick of the way people treat me, always acting like I'm in the spotlight. But I feel that I can't even imagine what it must be like for you ..."

Fleur's nod was slow and thoughtful. "It is not always easy, vraiment," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "People always staring, always fumbling over words ... I feel ... some don't even treat me as a person ... I'm just 'that Veela girl' to them."

"That must be ... so incredibly ..." Harry's voice trailed off, his head shaking in disbelief. "I mean, I know what it's like for people to only see you for one thing. The feeling that you need to put in all this extra work to try and get people to see something else. But it sounds like it's even worse ..."

He was interrupted as Fleur exclaimed, her eyes widening slightly. "Non, that is exactly how I feel!"

Harry nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting understanding. "Well, I doubt it will mean much, and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to change the attitude of the other students. But for what it's worth ... I am pretty sure there is so much more to you than what people can see on the surface. I can't imagine the Goblet of Fire would have selected you if that wasn't the case."

After a brief moment of silence, Harry locked eyes with Fleur, noticing the intensity of her gaze. "Merci, Monsieur Potter," she murmured, her tone genuine as a sincere smile graced her features. The warmth of her smile seemed to lift Harry's spirits, infusing the very air with a sense of happiness.

"I suppose … it is only a shame that I shall need to beat you in the Triwizard Tournament to prove this to everyone," she remarked with a playful wink.

Harry chuckled, returning her smile. "Well, I can only wish you luck with that."

Fleur's smile widened before her attention shifted to the bundle of food in Harry's hands. "So, what are you up to? Unable to wait until dinner or perhaps ... off to meet a female friend for a little ... picnic. Quelle romantique!" she teased.

A slight blush crept onto Harry's cheeks at the suggestive tone, prompting him to shake his head. "I'm meeting with some friends ... not like that," he clarified, noticing Fleur's raised eyebrows. "And not sure if we would be done with our chat before the meal ends."

Fleur nodded understandingly. "Well then, enjoy your meal, Monsieur Potter."

"Harry is fine, if I'm going to be forced to do this stupid tournament with you. It is probably easier if you just call me Harry," Harry interjected.

Fleur's smile widened, casting a radiant glow that seemed to illuminate the entire room. "Well ... in that case, I insist that you call me Fleur," she replied warmly. "I must admit, it will be nice to hear my name from someone who can say it without stumbling over their own tongue or slobbering all over themselves." She chuckled softly before continuing, "I wish you a good meal, and once again, I wish you luck on your ability to finish second in the tournament."

Before Harry could come up with a response, Fleur gracefully passed by, her shoulder brushing against his in what seemed like an accidental gesture. As she exited the room, the lingering floral fragrance of her presence enveloped Harry, leaving him momentarily spellbound in spite of himself.

Smiling to himself and shaking his head to dispel the daze, Harry refocused his thoughts and turned towards the grand staircase, preparing to lead his friends to the Room of Requirement.

Kind Regards,

FavoriteAuthor


HItsugana - I am happy it was worth the wait and you enjoy it! I enjoy interacting and really appreciate the time everyone takes to leave me feedback, so as often as I can I try to reply. I'm glad you like this Dumbledore and definitely feel free to provide any feedback should you think of anything!

Yaw613 - I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

RaiDaniels - Enjoy the next installment!

Ariadne Venegas - I am not sure if Harry was ever aware there was no trial. I think that is a very Fanfic idea but will definitely be looking into that. Looking forward to your feedback on the future conversations with Dumbledore and Harry.

jslee102 - Thanks it took a while to script out what I had wanted to have happened and then how I wanted this to have been said. Glad it came across well!

Evergone the Great - Thanks, I thought it was ... a good idea. I wonder if the undersecretary will make an appearance! That's a good catch.

Lucy Elizabeth Dawson - I am glad you enjoy it. Thanks for the feedback!

zega606 - Thanks! I guess we will see what happens with the bank and Sirius!

littleemberlou - Another lovely review! Thanks! It is fast approaching!

jkarr - Makes it a little easier!


Story Note 1 – To any of you who feel that Ron is taking a step back, you are partially correct. Personal growth is not linear and while the way I have written Ron has certainly improved in some areas there will always be moments where you slip a little. But hopefully Ron doesn't dwell on negative aspects and learns to put this behind him!

Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.

Author Note 1 – All feedback is welcome (hopefully constructive!) Looking forward to what you think! Once again, thanks for all the reviews and feedback on this story, I'm pumped it has been well received. Obviously, I love people telling me they enjoy the chapters (keep it up if you do) but I really enjoy the constructive criticism as well. One of the earliest pieces of feedback I got was that Fred/George dialogue was rough – so as a result I changed it but really like the way it is coming across now (a sentiment that seems to be shared by the readers as well). Also please continue to share ideas or requests as to things you wish to occur in the stories. I love the suggestions. And try to incorporate what I can.


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