CHAPTER 49: FIANCÉ'S RETURN
Turning slowly, Daphné confirmed the identity of this stranger who was not really one. Harry, her Harry, was finally here, standing in the hall of a school that both of them thought they would never know or set foot in, a tender smile on his face as he observed her with those captivating, penetrating eyes that made her melt in an instant and to which she could only succumb. Unable to bear it any longer and disregarding what gossip might say, she threw herself at him, as if to affirm that his presence was not a dream, a mirage, an illusion on which she clung desperately, wishing from the bottom of her heart for the reassuring and secure presence of the one she was to marry in a few months. The arms that enveloped her convinced her of the reality of the moment, and she almost cried with joy, thinking that yes, Harry was indeed there, standing in front of her and not on a stretcher waiting to be buried like the unfortunate ones who succumbed to the war. As she pulled away slightly from his chest, she looked up at him, a shower of emotions welling up in her as she lost herself in her fiancé's emerald eyes: Love, joy, but also a hint of anger when she thought of the absence of any information about him, but anger that disappeared as soon as she felt Harry's caresses on her face, his hair, and his hand wandering on the curves of her back.
"I didn't believe it anymore," she said timidly without letting go of him. "I thought... This silence about you..."
"I couldn't escape the orders of my superior," he said, understanding perfectly what she was alluding to. "I was pleased to know you were safe with Madame Maxime and your friends, but I cannot lie to you by saying that your absence was more painful for me than the blows I have taken in recent months."
Alarmed by these words, Daphné was about to inquire about these pains, but a finger on her mouth immediately silenced her:
"Do you think I would stand before you if it were painful for me?" he asked in that soft and reassuring tone. "Even torn to pieces by a cannonball, I would move heaven and earth to stand before you tonight, and I could not decently consider knowing that you were dancing alone at a ball without having me as your partner..."
"Idiot," she scolded him, giving him a light tap on his chest, although she didn't lose her smile. "Even with one leg missing, I would have come to fetch you myself to get you out of trouble."
"I expected nothing less from you, my dear," he confirmed, chuckling slightly.
Daphné's gaze fell for the first time on what he was wearing, and besides his scarlet uniform that stood out completely from the outfits worn by all the young men present, she could also observe a notable difference since the last time she saw him: Additional decorations, here and there, especially on the shoulders and chest, of a dazzling gold that now covered almost as much of the red fabric of his jacket as the still empty space on it. For the rest, his white pants and high boots reaching up to his knees added to the aura of power that emanated from him. However, she also noticed that her fiancé seemed tired, his facial features slightly drawn as bags began to appear under his eyes, indicating the sleep problems that Harry seemed to be facing.
"It's nothing," he assured her immediately, grabbing the hand she extended to examine his face. "The aftermath of the battles is later than I thought, but it will pass."
"You should still see someone," she said with a slightly worried tone. "One does not come out of such an ordeal without any consequences..."
"Maybe, yes," he said evasively. "Oh, but what do I see! Tracey! It is said up to Paris that the young people of Hogwarts are flaunting themselves in front of such a pretty face, and seeing you, I can only agree with the rumors!"
"Flattering scoundrel," she replied, accepting, however, that he took her hand to kiss it. "It is also said that war forges men, but seeing you, I rather have the impression that you are still as small and scrawny. Have you confined yourself to peeling potatoes and cracking nuts rather than fighting?"
"I am unmasked," he confessed falsely, pretending to look sad.
Small and scrawny, two things that could not match with Harry's appearance in Daphné's eyes. Her fiancé was a head taller than her, and years of training had sculpted his body to make it broad and muscular, which lessons in politeness had softened to add grace and dignity to his appearance. Just imagining that he was not yet seventeen and that he could still improve in the future made his fiancée look forward to it.
"Lucie," he then said, reproducing the same gesture as with Tracey, "I suspected that in the hands of my dear fiancée, you could only be the most beautiful young lady at this ball for the evening. I would even come to wonder if I should not change partners..."
"She is unfortunately already taken," intervened Neville, while Daphné hit Harry once again. "Neville Londubat, heir of the ancient and noble house of Londubat, at your service, Sir?"
"Gabriel de Bourbon, Prince of Lamballe and Duke of so many lands that I could not list them all without boring you," he introduced himself, accepting Neville's handshake. "So, you stole the place of this young lady's favorite boy from me..."
"I thought it was me," complained a voice behind him.
"I don't think that since the incident at the lake, Lucie could consider you the man she prefers, Nicolas," he replied, turning his head towards him.
Sulking, Harry's best friend crossed his arms while Juliette, next to him, laughed slightly at his friend's antics. Everyone then realized their presence, both also dressed in their soldier uniforms, but unlike Harry, neither had an insignia demonstrating a hierarchical elevation; For now, Harry was their superior, and it could well be that in the future, this difference would still remain. Daphné, who didn't know them as much as her fiancé, still appreciated knowing that they were also among them, just like Tracey and Lucie, who, during the summer holidays, also had the opportunity to meet them for a few weeks in Lamballe to forget for a while the long and painful months of schooling at Beauxbâtons and for them the exhausting lessons and punishments of their Metz academy.
"Nice place," commented Nicolas, looking curiously around. "There is also a castle like this near my place, but it's been in ruins for ages and peasants mainly go there to take a few stones for their houses or to demarcate their land. I used to go there with my friends to play until one of them fell from the battlements of the keep... In a sorry state, he smashed his head on a rock..."
"What a horror!" exclaimed Marie with horror.
"Yeah, as you say! He had the entire front of his face embedded in the..."
"That's enough," interrupted Juliette, slapping the back of his head. "We came here to have a good time and accompany Gabriel, not to hear the story of your thrilling and... disgusting adventures. Besides, you're bothering these young ladies with all these horrors!"
"Oh no, I find it amusing!" Tracey said to the general surprise. "Authenticity and spontaneity: two things sorely lacking at Beauxbâtons and among its delicate little students!"
"The delicate little students are here and hear you, Tracey," scolded Daphné, giving her a light tap on the back of the head.
"At least, we can be sure of one thing now, that Daphné won't mind me having a partner!" resumed her best friend after a few moments of silence rubbing her head. "Nicolas, would you be so kind as to be my partner?"
"Me?!" he exclaimed, looking in astonishment at Harry as if seeking confirmation of Tracey's words. "But... I don't even know how to dance! You didn't warn me about the risk of humiliating myself in front of a whole crowd before coming here, Gabi!"
"Oh, but I'm not to blame," he asserted, raising his hands in the air. "If this charming young lady wants you to dance a minuet, she's free to do so!"
"In any case, it wasn't a proposition," added Tracey, grabbing the arm of the unfortunate Nicolas. "I'm not asking you to dance, big fool, but just to hold my arm and smile at people as if you had by your side the most wonderful, the most beautiful, the most seductive young girl you can imagine."
"Well, that's going to be very difficult with you..." he mumbled, his now-cavalier said before also receiving a blow to the head. "Ouch!"
Their little quarrel, however, had the effect of further relaxing the atmosphere and, at the same time, drawing even more attention from the rest of the students. Harry had just enough time to greet Marie and Aglaé, who were almost trembling with ecstasy from the compliments of the young prince, before, to Daphné's great displeasure, a new arrival came to join their little group, almost screaming with excitement:
"Gabriel!" called Fleur, rushing towards him.
"Oh no, not her..." Tracey muttered, blowing air.
He barely had time to turn around to greet her than Fleur pounced on him, hugging him tightly in an embrace that could have, had he been a few years younger, crushed his ribs. With her head on his shoulder, Fleur held him like this long enough to arouse the jealousy of his fiancée, to whom she even gave a slight smirk before stepping away from him, looking as happy as if she had just been told that she was going to marry the said young man in question.
"Vile scoundrel!" she protested, giggling while hitting him with her fan on the chest. "Omitting to warn me of your presence! I would not have ceased to ask you to accompany me for this evening if I had only known that you would come! You know how to make yourself desired, my dear Gabriel!"
"Oh, but I see that you haven't lost any time to not come here alone anyway," he retorted, casting a fleeting glance at the young lady's escort.
"Hm hm..." she just breathed without even looking at Roger Davies. "There was only the embarrassment of choice in this school, but not a single man here measures up to you, my dear friend."
"The embarrassment of choice here boils down to counting on one hand the men who resist your veela powers, and apart from those who are married, I don't see any," countered Tracey, immediately receiving a heavy threatening look from Fleur.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the champions of the tournament, please come forward near the entrance of the Great Hall," then called Professor McGonagall a few meters away from them. "The ball is about to begin."
Leaving Harry with regret, Fleur headed towards the center of the hall where the other champions awaited her, and it was at that moment that Daphné noticed the sudden change in behavior in her fiancé as soon as he saw his half-brother. With a cold gaze and a pulsating vein on his temple, he stared at Matthew in the same way an eagle observes its prey, ready to pounce on it and scratch its skin with its long claws before flying away with it to devour it in complete intimacy. For a moment, she could easily imagine the same thing happening here, Harry somehow managing to isolate his brother from the rest of the assembly and lead him into a dungeon to make him have the worst night of his life.
"Come on, let's go," she immediately invited him when McGonagall invited the other participants to enter the Great Hall, awaiting the entrance of the main actors of the evening.
Harry let himself be guided without truly reacting, his gaze always fixed on the little brother he hadn't seen in so long but for whom he still felt a manifest rejection; If he didn't express it openly, his body language was more than enough to convey it. However, swept away by the stream of students entering the reception hall, his interest in his brother dissipated as soon as he set foot inside.
The walls of the Great Hall were covered with sparkling silver frost, and hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crisscrossed under the star-studded ceiling. The tables of the different houses had disappeared, replaced by a hundred smaller tables illuminated by lanterns, around which a dozen guests could sit. From the corner of her eye, Daphné could notice her fiancé's interest in the hall, devouring it with his gaze as he contemplated the tiny snowflakes falling on them, but Nicolas was certainly the most amazed by the new decor of the room, which he complimented Tracey on to her great pleasure. Stepping aside, the students formed a kind of honor guard, with Harry's group choosing to position themselves in the middle of it, their eyes now fixed on the entrance doors, from which the champions would soon appear.
"Eager for the dance," Tracey whispered impatiently, also observing the entrance to the Great Hall. "I can't wait to see how Potter handles dancing to the rhythm. Watching him do pirouettes must be an unforgettable sight!"
Lucie and Neville chuckled immediately, and even Daphné couldn't help but smile at the thought of Matthew struggling to keep up with the baroque dance rhythm on which the champions were to open the ball. Harry remained silent, absent-minded, as he watched Professor McGonagall enter the ballroom. But his demeanor changed radically when, following her and holding Madame Maxime's arm, Dumbledore made his appearance: His features immediately tensed, his eyebrows furrowed abruptly, and Daphné was convinced she felt him slide his hand toward the hilt of his sword. Dumbledore paid no attention to the assembly, too busy escorting the Beauxbatons headmistress to the entrance of the Great Hall, smiling proudly and happily in stark contrast to Madame Maxime's almost sullen expression.
"She doesn't seem thrilled to be here," commented Tracey, making the same observation as Daphné.
"Or maybe she's simply not thrilled to have Dumbledore as her partner," speculated Daphné in any case.
Karkaroff and the rest of the teachers then entered the hall, most of them deeming it appropriate to present themselves arm in arm with a colleague, before finally the champions arrived in turn; The first, Cedric Diggory, had chosen a young girl with Asian features as his partner, whom many others labeled as foreign and indigenous as she passed by. Krum had chosen another Hogwarts girl with similarly Eastern origins as his partner, but the reason seemed more likely to be a possible religious match than a matter of the heart. Then came Fleur, resplendent and radiant, who cast mocking smiles at the jealous young ladies as she passed by, while Roger Davies couldn't stop looking at her, a thin stream of drool escaping from the corner of his lips. Finally, perhaps to emphasize the age of the last candidate, it was Matthew's turn, with a surly expression and furrowed brows, his arm occupied by a Ginny who was as delighted to be there as ever and who, perhaps imitating Fleur, smiled blissfully at the present crowd as she led her partner to the center of the room.
An orchestra then emerged from the small room adjacent to the Great Hall, and the multiple musicians, each carrying a more or less heavy instrument, quickly took their places behind their music stands, on which they placed the scores of the multiple pieces they would play throughout the evening. Other adults also made their way into the hall from the entrance doors, but this went almost unnoticed as they placed themselves directly among the crowd to leave a clear space for the future dancers. Among them, Daphné spotted several Aurors, probably there for the security of the ball, but she recognized one of them in particular for having met him in the past: Sirius Black.
Again, her fiancé seemed to tense upon noticing the presence of this distant uncle who had eyes only for his half-brother, but he managed to keep his composure and not show any signs of anger when he felt Daphné's tender hand on his arm: A simple glance, a silent exchange, and a sweet smile on her face were enough to make him want to return the gesture.
The champions and their partners then separated on either side of the dance floor according to their gender, and after a moment of silence, the orchestra began its first piece. One by one and in perfect synchronization, the eight dancers then performed various dance steps, acrobatics, leg crossovers, and little jumps in the air to the rhythm of the music and the cadence demanded by their small choreography. Overall, the result was quite satisfying, and there was no doubt that they must have rehearsed the required movements for hours, but a less knowledgeable observer could easily see that one pair was not quite in the same rhythm as the others: Matthew, due to his slight plumpness, struggled to stay on his feet and spin around, but his partner did absolutely nothing to save him as she seemed to have forgotten some of the required steps.
"That'll teach him to spend hours in front of his mirror getting pretty instead of reviewing his choreography," commented a girl near Daphné, around the same age as Ginny.
Since baroque dance was reserved for a privileged elite in Europe, Harry's fiancée thought that Matthew's partner probably had never been able to indulge in it, unless grace truly eluded her. But out of politeness, she waited for the end of the dance to applaud, like the rest of the students, the eight dancers who performed a final bow of thanks before most of them disappeared from the dance floor without asking for their rest. Other couples immediately came to take their place, and Daphné did not need to ask her fiancé for a dance for him to guide her to the center of the room. Again, the music started, and the small group of about twenty students began to whirl, cross paths, and, as before, occasionally hop and sometimes rise on their tiptoes.
"I must say you look very beautiful tonight," Harry suddenly said as he passed behind her. "I already imagined having to battle a bunch of suitors to win the favors of my fiancée..."
"A bunch is quite a bit compared to the multiple proposals I've had in recent weeks," Daphné replied mockingly as they crossed paths again. "I couldn't say how many boys begged me to be their partner, but there were so many that I couldn't count them all..."
"Should I be jealous then?" he replied when they crossed paths again. "Heaven, I'll have to take drastic measures to pry you away from the clutches of this mob... Locking you in a dungeon would probably be a good idea!"
"Then I'll be your prisoner, but also in your debt," teased his fiancée.
Their dance continued, and at times, both Daphné and Harry could see their friends making fun of them and their dance, especially Nicolas, who could barely stand on his legs as he pointed his finger at his comrade when he took a few dance steps where poise and grace bordered on the ridiculous for a man.
"Your best friend seems to be having a great time tonight," commented Daphné, noticing Nicolas's actions.
"Poor guy was languishing in Metz for the Christmas holidays, so I thought he might as well spend the festivities in my company," Harry explained. "From the moment I read in your letters that a ball was organized at Hogwarts, I immediately thought of him to keep me company... And to keep Tracey company too. These two get along so well when they see each other that I thought it reasonable to bring them together for an evening..."
Daphné nodded as she could indeed see her best friend and Nicolas chatting joyfully while continuing to mock them. The dance ended a few moments later as the orchestra played the last notes of their music, and after some cheers and applause, Harry left the dance floor, his fiancée once again clinging to his arm.
"What a funny dance!" chuckled Nicolas as he saw them approaching. "At home, we dance the rigaudon, and it's much livelier than your little antics!"
"Well, why don't you show us your dancing talent, braggart!" Juliette challenged him, pointing to the dance floor.
"I can't," he immediately said, losing a bit of his bravado. "It takes two to dance it, and besides, the orchestra would have to play a piece resembling it."
"Oh, but I can very well go ask the musicians if they have one in their repertoire..." their comrade began before being abruptly grabbed by Nicolas.
"No, no!" he said nervously. "You wouldn't want to bother them, would you? I'm sure they have other things to do!"
"If you don't mind, I now have to initiate someone into baroque dance," Neville interrupted as Lucie became nervous too and the third piece came to an end. "I think my partner has seen enough of others attempting it to showcase her talents."
"Go ahead, Londubat heir," Harry invited him as Daphné and Tracey responded to their friend's silent pleas with smiles and little waves of the hand.
Defeated, she let herself be dragged by her partner to the center of the room, while the rest of their small group finally chose to sit at one of the tables and discover the menu for the evening.
"It's always better than the cafeteria," commented Nicolas, analyzing the different dishes. "Pork ribs!"
Immediately, a dish appeared in front of him, and without waiting for the others to also place their orders, he eagerly enjoyed the steaming meat.
"Poorly learned," grumbled Aglaé as she watched him eat.
To which he responded by sticking out his tongue, a gesture that had the effect of turning her skin a very pronounced shade of red as she fumed with anger.
"Aren't they cute together?" Daphné exclaimed, watching Neville and Lucie dance in perfect harmony.
"Weren't we just like that a few minutes ago?" Harry inquired in a soft tone, squeezing her hand.
"No, you were ridiculous," Nicolas replied with his mouth full.
"Will you please watch your manners!?" Juliette retorted, hitting him again on the head. "And we didn't ask for your opinion!"
"Ouch! Stop hitting me!"
But despite his pleas and for good measure, Juliette gave him another slap to the amusement of the guests around the table. At least, until an unwanted individual appeared behind Harry.
"I don't know who you are, but you'll do me the favor of going back where you came from, Frenchman!" Matthew ordered, attempting to appear more imposing than he actually was.
In vain. Despite his puffed-up chest, all Harry had to do was stand up and face his brother to realize the obvious height difference between them.
"You... You have no business here," Matthew continued less confidently. "This party is reserved for students of the three schools competing in the Triwizard Tournament, and as far as I know, you're not one of them."
"Maybe, but my partner here has graciously invited me to participate, and as far as I know, there's no rule against inviting a partner who doesn't necessarily belong to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang."
"Invite me?" his brother repeated incredulously. "As a partner? That's a good one! She's my partner, and I'm here to rescue her from the mess she's in, living with people like you."
As he spoke, he gestured with his head towards Daphné and Harry's friends. While the girls blushed slightly, Jules and Nicolas, though not understanding English, knew enough to stand up and reach for their swords, ready to use them.
"People like us?" Harry asked coldly, briefly looking at his comrades. "Choose your words carefully, sir, for it might be the last thing you say in our presence."
"Threats? I'm not afraid of threats," his brother replied, attempting to maintain composure. "And if you knew who I am, you certainly wouldn't threaten me."
"It wasn't a threat but advice, but it might indeed become one if you don't leave us alone. If you had any intelligence, you would know that it's impossible for me to know who you are since you haven't even introduced yourself," Harry informed him coldly.
Troubled for a moment, Matthew seemed surprised to find someone who indeed didn't know who he was; his ego undoubtedly took a hit. However, the confusion quickly turned into mockery, and an almost condescending smile appeared on his face as he spoke again.
"You must not read much English press in your country, I suppose," he chuckled. "Otherwise, you would know that I'm very famous here."
"We only keep ourselves informed about essential things happening in this country, and obviously, you're not worth our attention," Harry replied.
Stung, Matthew quickly turned as red as Aglaé's dress. A small crowd began to gather around them as everyone gauged the rising tension between Matthew and the mysterious Frenchman.
"I am Matthew Potter, or as people prefer to call me, 'The Chosen One' or 'The Boy Who Lived,' or even 'the Vanquisher of Lord Voldemort,'" he proudly informed them. "I am a true legend here, a figure in the highest echelons of our society, and even the most influential Muggles know my name! It's not a little upstart like you who should make me afraid!"
"Do any of you know a Matthew Potter before coming here, my friends?" Harry then asked, turning to his companions.
They all shook their heads, to Matthew's great annoyance. He immediately focused his attention back on Daphné, who had been silent throughout their dispute.
"You! You know who I am!" he declared, pointing his finger at her. "You were engaged to my brother!"
"Perhaps, but that's no longer the case," she said, approaching Harry and taking his hand. "Now, I am promised to another, a much better young man, not a coward who has been missing for nearly ten years now. Mr. Prince de Lamballe and I are a few months away from our wedding, and this match is worth all the honors your brother could have bestowed upon me. You mean nothing to me, neither now nor in the future."
"We'll see about that!" Matthew declared. "In the event of either party's death, the brother or sister who succeeds them immediately becomes the new beneficiary of the marriage contract, and in this case, it's me!"
"Except it seems your brother isn't dead, Potter heir; otherwise, we would have been notified of his death since our engagement certificates. And before you ask, your brother's disownment by your father rendered the marriage contract null and void because the terms of the contract are no longer fulfilled. I was supposed to marry an heir, not a disowned boy without fortune. I could easily get out of that contract and unite with Gabriel de Bourbon, the royal prince of the houses of Savoy and France. Don't you think that's a much better prospect?"
Matthew's surprise at the identity of the young man in front of him wasn't concealed by Daphné's ironic tone, nor did it allow him to hide the shock he felt at the news of the broken engagement between his brother and her. He had imagined himself marrying such a beauty for months, and now everything was falling apart.
"None of this matters," he said coldly. "I am Matthew Potter, I can have everything I want with a snap of my fingers, and what I want tonight is you! So, I won't repeat it: Remove your hands from my partner, or you'll quickly understand the consequences of daring to oppose me!"
"Courtesy would suggest that you address me formally, something you have never done until now, as we don't know each other. Now, let me explain how things will go: First, I will give a negative response to your order, then I will kindly ask you to leave us alone and go about your business with the lady who serves as your partner for the evening. Otherwise, I'll be forced to push you much less amicably, and you wouldn't want that, would you? So, let's start with the basics: No, I won't let you enjoy my fiancée. Is that clear to you, sir?"
"I won't let my behavior be dictated by a filthy Frenchman and his slut of a fiancée..." Matthew didn't have time to finish his sentence before a violent slap landed on his cheek, causing him to turn his head under the force of the blow. With his hand firmly clenched around the glove he had just removed, Harry now looked at his half-brother with such hatred that Daphné was certain she had never seen him in such a state before. A desire for death almost seemed to animate him, and if he hadn't yet drawn his sword from its scabbard, she was convinced that it was mainly due to a momentary oversight on his part; otherwise, it would have already found its way into the slightly overweight body of the Potter heir.
"You are exceeding the bounds of proper conduct, sir!" he roared as the entire room fell silent. "You dare insult me in front of a numerous audience, you dare ridicule my noble lineage, mock my comrades and friends, but above all, you insult my fiancée and tarnish her honor before this assembly. I demand redress for the harm suffered!"
Handing his hat to Nicolas, he unsheathed his sword, pointing it towards the visibly paling Matthew Potter. He voiced the request that had been burning on his lips for a few minutes now, finding a perfectly opportune reason for his intentions:
"As God is my witness, sir, I will not leave here without obtaining satisfaction for the wrongs you have committed against me! I challenge you to a duel!"
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