Fleur De Lis Chapter 17. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Teasing.

“How could you?” He had intended for his voice to be a quiet growl but what emerged instead was a low, cold hiss, infinitely more menacing than any growl could have ever been.

Dumbledore appeared unfazed. He calmly turned away from the merman and placed himself between Harry and the other judges.

Behind his Headmaster’s tall frame, Harry could see Percy’s face get progressively redder with every passing second but he was beyond caring. Madam Maxime studied him for a brief moment before giving him a small nod and slipping away. The others simply stood rooted in place, momentarily cowed into silence by his cold fury.

“We were just clarifying what happened, Harry,” Dumbledore murmured. He took off his half-moon spectacles and slowly cleaned the glasses with the edge of his robe’s sleeves. “It appears the merfolk ventured outside the parameters of their assignment. Their instructions were simple but were not followed.”

“No shit,” Gabrielle growled, gently pushing Hermione out of the way and stomping up to Harry’s side. “These bastards hurt my sister and you’re having a pleasant chat with them?”

The merman in the water let loose an angry roar.

“Miss Delacour-”

“Don’t Miss Delacour me,” Gabrielle hissed, tears shining in her eyes. Her fingers sparked and she glanced at Harry, half-afraid that he’d step in and stop her. It seemed he had something different in mind. He was clenching his wand so hard that his knuckles were white and was gazing out at the lake with a stony expression. Her hand began to steam as the sparks dancing along her fingers started to evaporate the water clinging to her skin. Just before she could conjure a fireball a hand grabbed her wrist and Hermione pulled her hand towards her chest, forcing her to choose between extinguishing the flames and hurting her love.

Gabrielle sighed and killed the fire.

The Merman glared at her with angry yellow eyes and let loose a quick succession of chitters.

“Humoc wants you to apologize for your insult, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore said quietly.

“Miss Delacour is going to do no such thing,” Gabrielle said, reluctantly allowing Hermione to pull her away from the lake. “Humoc should consider himself lucky that my girlfriend was around to stop me from frying him to a crisp.”

“You don’t want to go down that path, Miss Delacour.”

“Why not?” Harry asked coldly. He turned his gaze away from the lake and directed his anger at Dumbledore and by extension, at the remaining judges.

“She could start a war,” Dumbledore explained quietly. “The last war between the Veela and the Merfolk burned down London. I doubt you want Hogwarts to suffer a similar fate, Harry.”

“If she doesn’t start it, I will.”

“It wasn’t their fault, Harry.” Dumbledore reached out to grasp Harry’s shoulders but withdrew his hands when Harry shrugged them away. “We should talk about this in private.”

“Why?” Harry snarled. “So you can get me away from the lake?”

“Please understand. Humoc has revealed to me many disturbing things, some of which I cannot translate right now,” Dumbledore said softly with a quick glance at the remaining judges. “The two of you must come too, Miss Delacour and Miss Granger. We have much to discuss.”

Harry exchanged an uncertain glance with Gabrielle. It seemed as if their anger was seeping out of their bodies at the same time, taking all their energy with it. Their bodies slumped as the adrenaline keeping them going ran out, letting the exhaustion it was keeping at bay catch up with them. Harry’s knees buckled and both Gabrielle and Hermione were forced to grab one of his arms to support him and keep him upright.

“Alright, professor,” Hermione said. “We will come with you.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely and turned back to the merman, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Gabrielle to Madam Pomfrey’s student assistants.

They quickly dried Hermione and Gabrielle’s clothes and hair with gentle heating charms before Daphne stepped in to wrap a towel around Harry’s tall frame.

“Let me know if you need some help slitting their throats, Potter,” she muttered. She pulled the floating medicine tray towards her and uncorked three vials. “Strength, Warmth, and something for the lungs. You swallowed far too much water during your ascent,” she said, handing him the vials one by one. She made sure he drained every vial and had him put them carefully in the tray once they were empty.

“Why would you help me?” Harry asked, studying the blonde Slytherin. He wasn’t close with her but he knew her well enough to know she stayed far away from the rest of the bigots in her House. She had never given him any reason to dislike her. A low bar, but one she cleared with admirable ease. She didn’t look up at his words. She stayed on her knees, studying the wounds on his legs with a critical eye.

“Because I’m much better at slicing throats than I am at dabbing dittany,” Daphne murmured. She grabbed cotton balls in one hand and a bowl full of dittany in the other, placing it in the sand. She kneeled next to Harry and began to clean his various wounds with the dittany.

“Why do you want to be a healer then?” Harry hissed. He stopped squirming after Daphne’s exasperated slap to his leg.

“Because I’m bloody good at dabbing dittany,” Daphne said with a smirk.

“What’s the real reason?”

“A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady to explain her hobbies, Potter. But if you must know it’s because you and Delacour make a good couple. It gives the rest of us hope that there’s someone amongst the wholly unsuitable male population in this castle that will make a good husband one day,” Daphne answered with a smile. She quickly packed up her supplies and pushed the tray away before she stood. She summoned the clothes he had discarded on the beach and handed them to him, watching him dress with a smirk gracing her pretty features. “Plus, it’s been a rather dreary year. A little homicide will lift my spirits.”

“I’ll uh… I’ll keep you in mind if I ever get homicidal urges and need someone’s uh… help.”

Daphne gave him a mock salute, then sprinted across the beach to join her colleagues.

“Did the merman leave?” Harry asked, staring at the still surface of the lake. He now knew that appearances were deceiving and the water held many dangers.

“Yep,” Gabrielle said, scowling at Dumbledore and the remaining judges. They were huddled together some distance from them.

“Did you apologize?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” Harry said with a tired sigh. “What’s that about?” Harry asked, watching Dumbledore respond to a furious whisper from Karkaroff in his usual calm manner.

“No clue. You’re not thinking about letting them off the hook, are you?”

Harry shook his head. “As bad as the merfolk were, they were worse. They designed this Task knowing one of the champions and her possible hostage were both Veelas. We get them first. The merfolk aren’t going anywhere.”

“Harry!” Hermione chastised in a horrified whisper. “Do you understand what you’re talking about?!”

“Yep. Do you understand what you’re talking about? Telling me to restrain myself?” Harry asked, his voice colder than it had ever been. He watched Hermione flinch at the tone of his voice but did not relent. “They tried to murder our girlfriends, Mione. Both the judges and the merfolk. For once in your life forget the rules! Where is the Hermione who once set a teacher on fire to save me?!”

“Do you think I’m not angry?” Hermione asked in a furious whisper. She grabbed Harry’s chin and made him turn towards the judges, Dumbledore in particular. “What do you see?”

“Uh…” Her unexpected question deflated his rising anger again. “Professor Dumbledore?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look at him. His face. His expression. Pay attention,” Hermione urged. “What do you see?”

“He looks…” Harry frowned. He pulled his glasses off and cleaned the water clinging to the lenses before pushing them back up on his nose. “He looks worried,” Harry murmured, studying the deeper-than-usual lines on Dumbledore’s wizened face.

“Not worried. Pay attention, Harry,” Hermione urged. “We’ve seen him when he’s worried. This is not it.”

“He’s… scared,” Gabrielle said, breaking the tense silence after a few seconds. “But that’s natural, Mione. He just told us he doesn't want a Veela-Merfolk war in his school. That’s a very natural thing to be scared of.”

Hermione shook his head. “I was watching him long before the two of you stomped up to him and decided the best course of action was to start a highly destructive war,” Hermione chided with a loving smile. They were such hotheads and so protective of the ones they loved. Was there any doubt that they were both true Gryffindors? “He’s been scared since the moment Humoc first emerged from the water. Two or three sentences, that’s all it took for Humoc to terrify the living daylights out of our Headmaster.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting that the Merfolk are powerful enough to scare someone like Dumbledore.” Harry’s eyebrows were so high that they were at risk of disappearing into his hairline. “Hermione, do you hear yourself? I fought them off. Do you really think they pose any kind of threat to Dumbledore?”

“The merfolk pose no threat to someone like Dumbledore,” Hermione said, agreeing with Harry’s observation. “But who said it was the merfolk? Think about it, Harry. Don’t just look at what happened here,” Hermione urged. “Combine it with the events of the Quidditch World Cup, with your name coming out of the Goblet, with the attack on Crouch…”

“There’s something… someone at Hogwarts with an agenda of their own,” Gabrielle guessed.

“The agenda being the death of one Harry Potter,” Hermione said grimly. “Fleur was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Harry. Or maybe the person had the Merfolk attack Fleur to disguise their real target… you.”

“That would explain why Dumbledore wanted to talk to us in private,” Harry murmured, the air knocked out of his lungs. “He thinks it’s someone on the panel. He looked at the other judges when he said we couldn’t talk here.”

“That would make sense,” Hermione said. She moved to Harry’s side and made him wrap his arm around her shoulders, using her body to support him and keep him upright. “They’re the ones with the greatest access to the Tasks. Someone had to go down and place us in the village of the Merfolk. Maybe whoever it was had a little chat with them. It wouldn’t be too difficult to bribe some of them. Maybe that’s what Humoc was telling Dumbledore,” Hermione guessed in a whisper.

“That’s enough,” Harry whispered. He glanced at the students who were slowly making their way down from the stands. A lot of them stared at the champions as they passed them, but no one dared to approach either them or their hostages. “There are too many people around,” Harry explained. “We don’t want the wrong person overhearing our theories.”

Hermione and Gabrielle nodded. They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence. The only notable thing was the dittany finally kicking in and healing the wounds on Harry’s legs. He gently extricated himself from Hermione and Gabrielle and was just about to move closer to the judges in the hopes of overhearing something only for them to break up.

Karkaroff was the first to leave. He snarled and stormed up the beach towards Durnstrang’s ship. Ludo Bagman sighed loudly and pulled away, his belly jiggling ponderously as he marched towards the castle. Percy considered his options for a few seconds, then ran up to join him.

Dumbledore was the last to leave. He stayed rooted in place for a few more seconds, then turned around and joined them again.

“Come with me, Harry.”

“Only him?”

“The two of you as well, Miss Delacour.”

Harry waved at Cedric as they passed him and Cho, with Dumbledore taking the same path Madame Pomfrey had chosen to transport Fleur back to the castle.

None of them said a word as they walked down the winding path back to the castle. They occasionally passed a few students, all of whom stared openly at the group. Dumbledore’s presence was enough to dissuade any incidents, even when they passed Draco and Pansy.

Harry only relaxed when they had walked across the courtyard and entered the deserted atrium of the castle. They followed Dumbledore onto a staircase.

“Professor-” Hermione finally summoned the courage to speak.

“Not here, Miss Granger. Even the walls have ears,” Dumbledore said softly. He glanced at the portraits decorating the walls, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Something was bothering him, that much was obvious to all three of them by now.

Harry raised an eyebrow when the staircase shuddered to a halt on the sixth floor instead of the fifth.

“Where are we going?”

“My office, Harry,” Dumbledore replied. He made his way down the hallway with the three of them having to run to keep pace with his quick stride.

“I need to see Fleur. She needs me,” Harry said, glancing at Hermione. He smiled at her quick nod. “Hermione can fill me in later.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened in the lake, Harry?” Dumbledore asked softly. “I have answers and I think you will want to hear them.”

“Did something happen?” Harry asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

“A lot of things have happened, Harry. Humoc has told me something very disturbing. The news from Mungo’s about Barty’s condition is troubling,” Dumbledore said gravely. “This is what we must discuss but we cannot do it here. Miss Delacour is in good hands. There is nothing you can do in the Hospital Wing.”

“Can I do something with the information you’ll share?”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said with an enigmatic expression.

“Alright, professor,” Harry said with a nod. He was right. Fleur was unconscious and would probably stay that way for a day or two. He would get justice for her and be by her bedside when she woke up.

They resumed their journey down the hallway, only halting when they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the staircase to the Headmaster’s office.

“Honey drops,” Dumbledore said softly.

The gargoyle nodded. The pedestal on which it rested sunk into the stone floor, taking him with it. The wall behind it withdrew to reveal a winding staircase.

Dumbledore climbed onto a step and the trio hopped onto the one behind him, letting the staircase carry them up to his office. The door to the room was shut but the golden doorknob glowed when Dumbledore grasped it and the door unlocked with a quiet click.

The office was exactly as Harry remembered it. Fawkes was sleeping on a golden perch next to Dumbledore’s desk, his head buried under his right wing. Dumbledore’s desk was still cluttered with books, rolls of parchment, and various instruments that he did not recognize. Bookshelves lined the walls of the office and portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses hung from the walls above them. A quiet gasp from Hermione made him glance at her and he chuckled at her wide eyes and awestruck expression.

His best friend had just walked into her personal heaven and even the events of the day weren’t enough to dampen her enthusiasm.

“If we could have some privacy,” Dumbledore requested politely, looking around the room. The portraits left one by one, some of them traveling first to the painting next to theirs to wake up their sleeping neighbors. Fawkes poked his head out of his wing but a silent nod from Dumbledore reassured him and he returned to his slumber.

“I’ve never seen a copy before,” Hermione breathed, running her fingers along the spine of a black leather-bound book. “I thought they were all lost in antiquity.”

“Not quite, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said with a delighted chuckle. “Some were saved. I was fortunate enough to get my hands on one.” He swept across the room and sat down in his high-backed chair, his expression growing serious as he studied them. “But we must abandon academic discourse for now and address the matter at hand.”

They took the three chairs arranged in front of his desk at his invitation and watched as he picked up a crystal bowl of assorted candies. Only Hermione took up his offer, grabbing an orange-flavored mint from the bowl.

Harry and Gabrielle stared stonily at him, waiting for him to address the elephant in the room.

“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. He stroked his snowy beard and lapsed into silence for a few seconds. “What happened today,” he said just as the silence was starting to be unbearable. “Was an incredible tragedy.”

“Spare us the theatrics, Headmaster,” Gabrielle growled, displaying none of the deference that Harry and Hermione showed for the venerable wizard.

“Very well. The truth is that the Merfolk knew about you and your sister, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore said gravely. “I had a chat with Chief Humoc myself. He had no problem with your presence. In fact, he vowed to me with a binding blood pact that he was looking forward to treating you as their honored guest. A sign that the Merfolk were committed to making the new treaty work.”

“Is that so? Is it a Merfolk custom to nearly kill the relatives of their honored guests?” Gabrielle asked sarcastically. “How do you plan to justify their behavior, professor?”

“They were compelled to act, Miss Delacour.”

“Then the blame surely lies on you and the rest of the judges. Dying while trying to complete a task is one thing. My sister willingly agreed to that risk. Harry did not, but let us ignore his case for now. Being sentenced to death because you tried to rescue someone you thought was in danger of death is fucked,” Gabrielle said coldly.

“Gabby!”

“She has a point, Hermione,” Harry said softly. “They only attacked us when we tried to rescue that girl. If they were compelled to do that, then the fault lies with you, professor, and the remaining judges.”

“Do you think Madam Maxime would consent to a decision that put two of her favorite students in mortal peril, Harry?” Dumbledore asked calmly. “Do you think I would? When I say compelled… I mean it. They were compelled to attack you, Harry.”

Dumbledore silently stared at Harry until his words finally clicked.

“Someone used the Imperius on them?” Harry asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. If you will allow me, I shall explain my understanding of events as they occurred.”

Harry, Hermione, and Gabrielle nodded together.

Dumbledore leaned forward and plucked a lemon toffee from the bowl. He popped it in his mouth and rolled it around on his tongue slowly.

“It all started at the Quidditch World Cup Final over the summer.”

“This is going to be a long story,” Gabrielle said dryly.

“Indeed, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “By all rights, my story should start with Peter’s escape last year. I can see you’re confused but I can assure you Harry and Hermione will fill you in later.”

Harry and Hermione nodded silently.

“I’m sure you know who Voldemort is.”

“Bad guy. Wanted to rule the world and killed a lot of people in his attempt to do so. Defeated and killed by my sister’s boyfriend back when he was less hot and more adorable. Not that he’s not adorable right now,” Gabrielle winked at Harry.

“Quite right. Except for the last part. He’s not dead, Miss Delacour. But he’s not alive either. His body was destroyed. He has spent the last decade trying to get it back.”

“Voldemort nearly succeeded a couple of years ago. Last year Pettigrew… Peter escaped. He is one of his most devoted followers,” Harry explained.

“And I have it on good authority that he has returned to Voldemort. And he’s not the only one.”

“The people who attacked the Quidditch World Cup Final? They’ve joined him too?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

“One of them was Malfoy! I saw him!” Harry exclaimed.

“Not them. All of them, like Malfoy, are followers of Voldemort who avoided prison after the last war by denouncing him. Not them. They ran the moment the Dark Mark was in the sky. It was out there not to encourage them, but to scare them. To remind them that their master is back and they shall be punished,” Dumbledore shook his head gravely. “I’m talking about whoever cast the Dark Mark. It wasn’t Peter. I know he doesn’t have the skill to cast the Dark Mark and I doubt he’s picked it up recently. Are you following me so far?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Hermione and Gabrielle both nodded in agreement.

“Therein lies our problem. There is someone out there. A true follower of Voldemort. Someone more competent than Peter. Is it someone Voldemort trusts to carry out sensitive tasks? If so, what would he ask his devoted servant to do next? What has been his singular obsession for the past two decades?”

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, a horrified expression on her face.

“This brings us to the Triwizard Tournament and Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet unexpectedly. Voldemort’s servant has already proven themself to be competent and determined. Harry is extremely skilled for his age but what is more likely? Him overcoming the protective measures or a wizard deeply steeped in the dark arts doing so?”

“Why didn’t you stop it from happening? If you suspected something was wrong you could have just refused to let him participate!”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione’s words. She had a point, even if he wasn’t going to admit it out loud. He had agreed to participate in the Tournament far too easily after his name had come out of the Goblet to impress Fleur, but that was the past.

“I had several excellent reasons, Miss Granger. Firstly, Harry’s participation in the Tournament was not enough to ensure his demise. I felt that the spy would make a mistake and reveal their identity while trying to complete their master’s task-”

“So you wanted to use Harry as bait?” Gabrielle asked incredulously.

“It’s a good plan,” Harry said with a grin. “If he’d told me I would have agreed. My only problem is with being kept in the dark.”

“I had a good reason for that as well. Sirius told me about the dreams you’ve been having,” Dumbledore said softly. “You seem to share a connection with Voldemort, Harry. He is thankfully unaware of it but I do not want to do anything that will cause him to seek entry into your mind, such as spending more time with me than is strictly necessary.”

“It’s also why you didn’t tell him about your plans. If Harry can peek into Voldemort’s mind through his dreams there is a chance he can do the same to Harry… If Harry knew about your plans Voldemort would warn his spy who would then flee…”

“Rendering the plan useless, yes. Thank you for summarizing my situation succinctly, Miss Granger.”

Harry nodded grudgingly but Gabrielle was still not convinced.

“You said you had several good reasons, professor. That was just one.”

“The second and most important reason was that I was overruled, Miss Delacour. Even the temptation of flushing out the spy in Hogwarts was not enough for me to put Harry in danger until my hand was forced. I know a lot of people like to think I can wave my wand and make anything happen-” Dumbledore chuckled humorlessly “-but that is not the case. I could not, for instance, overrule Ludo and Barty. Nor could I overcome the magic of the Goblet. The rules were clear. Harry had to participate or suffer the consequences.”

“People think you’re a magician.”

“We’re all magicians in this room, Harry,” Hermione said with a faint smile.

“I meant in the Muggle sense,” Harry said, his cheeks turning pink. “People think he can do the impossible.”

“Quite true. I have tried my hardest to dispel it but people refuse to believe me when I say I cannot perform miracles. They see my inability to act as my refusal to do so,” Dumbledore said with just a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Harry nodded sympathetically.

“Wait a minute,” he said after a moment of heavy silence. “You said you couldn’t tell me about your plans because you couldn’t risk Voldemort finding out about them. But you just told me so much and you’re going to tell us what happened in the lake. What changed?”

“I have a very good idea who the spy is,” Dumbledore declared, his electric blue eyes sparkling triumphantly. “I cannot reveal his identity because I am not yet ready to make a move, but rest assured, he is under close supervision now. For now, let us move on to the events under the lake. I feel like closure would do both you and Miss Delacour some good. Where was I?”

“You told us that Voldemort’s spy had Imperiused a bunch of Merfolk,” Gabrielle answered.

“Yes, yes.” Dumbledore took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his sleeve again. “Merfolk are innately resistant to most magic, including the Imperius curse. He could not use the spell on more than a few of them because the more Merfolk he charmed, the weaker his hold on them became. So he chose his targets carefully,” Dumbledore explained with a quiet sigh. “He imperiused the honor guard, the Merfolk chosen to guard the hostages. Then he arranged for Krum to fail, knowing Harry would refuse to leave his hostage underwater.” He paused and glanced at Harry, his lips curving into a delighted smile. “That is exactly what you did. I know it may not seem so right now but never abandon your kind nature, Harry. It is one of your greatest strengths.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised reluctantly. What good was a strength that hurt the ones he loved?

“So Harry and Fleur choosing to save Krum’s hostage was their trigger?” Hermione asked.

“Indeed. They were the closest and they attacked Harry, Fleur, and the hostages they were trying to rescue before Humoc or the other Merfolk could intervene. They were captured soon after you left the lake and are currently under guard, being examined by their healers. Humoc has kindly agreed to let Professors Flitwick and McGonagall examine them as well.”

“None of this was supposed to happen,” Harry said numbly.

“No, Harry.” Dumbledore sighed. “It was not.”

“You said I was the target. Why did the Imperiused Merfolk use venom that is lethal only to Veelas in that case?” Harry asked suddenly. “That makes no sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Dumbledore challenged. “Voldemort has plans within plans, Harry. He wants you dead, yes. But what happens if you survive? What can he do to break you mentally and emotionally?”

“Kill the woman he loves more than anyone else in the world,” Gabrielle muttered with a disgusted snort. “I think the French accounts about him underestimate how evil this bastard really is.”

“Gabby!”

“What, the man wants to murder my sister to fuck with Harry’s head. I think we can safely call him an evil bastard, babe.”

“As Headmaster I would never endorse the use of such coarse language but if I did… I would agree with your analysis, Miss Delacour. But he didn’t just do it to… ah, ‘fuck’ with Harry’s head.”

Harry nearly jolted out of his seat. Hearing the venerable Headmaster use the word ‘fuck’ just sounded wrong. He exchanged a glance with Gabrielle. She shook her head and bit her lower lip to suppress a smile.

“Now we come to the reason I need you and Harry to apologize to Humoc. Two Merfolk dead, a Veela seriously injured. What do you think is going to happen?”

“The treaty is as good as dead?” Hermione, who was the most well-versed among them in History of Magic, guessed. “They might not go to war-”

“Come now, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore interrupted.

“They will definitely go to war,” Hermione corrected reluctantly. “They’re both proud and hot-headed. Neither will want to back down from what they see as grave insults. A Veela who was supposed to be an honored guest was mistreated and nearly killed. Gabby threatened to fry the Chieftain of a Merlfolk community in retaliation.”

“And in the eventuality of a war with Voldemort… who do you think the Veela nation would support?” Dumbledore prodded gently.

“Well, I’m pretty sure my sister is going to marry the cute idiot next to me and have perfect Veela babies one day so Harry, obviously. They might have stayed neutral in the first war but no Matriarch is going to abandon one of their own.”

“What if they’re at war?”

“They won’t be able to help Harry, even if they wanted to. The last treaty came about because the Veela and the Merfolk fought each other to a standstill,” Hermione continued when Gabrielle stubbornly refused to. “They’re evenly matched. If they’re busy fighting each other neither of them will be able to help Harry.”

“Do you see what I mean when I say Voldemort has plans within plans?” Dumbledore asked. “He is already weakening our allies.”

“Yeah. And we played right into his hands,” Harry muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“All is not lost. Humoc can be… reasonable. At times. He has agreed to forget the insult to him and his position if you and Miss Delacour apologize.”

“Fine. I will apologize for threatening to turn him into chicken nuggets,” Gabrielle muttered, crossing her arms over his chest.

“I will say sorry too,” Harry agreed with a sigh. “Do we go back to the lake now?”

“I’m sure Humoc can wait till morning. I know you and Miss Delacour wish to go to the hospital wing.”

Harry nodded and pushed his chair away from the table. Hermione and Gabrielle copied his actions and were on their feet within seconds, all of them eager to check on Fleur. Madam Pomfrey had assured them she wasn’t in any immediate danger but Harry needed to it with his own eyes.

“And Harry,” Dumbledore spoke up after Hermione and Gabrielle had left and Harry was halfway out the door. “Be careful. Trust your instincts.”

Harry nodded. The door swung shut behind him as soon as he left, leaving him alone on the winding staircase.

Notes:

Hello, hello! The move went well and I am finally settling into the new place. I'm still missing half my stuff, today I realized I have no laundry basket and forgot to buy one. Fun times. Anywho, here is a new and fun chapter. No Harry/Fleur action in this one, sorry! But it was necessary to move the plot forward and since Dumbledore will be playing an active role in this story, this felt like the perfect moment to get him involved in the ongoing action. I wonder how the Third Task is going to go given the revelations in this chapter?