Written in the Stars - Into the Blue

Into the Blue

She was watching him again, her eyes glazed over as she seemingly pondered what was proving to be quite the difficult conundrum to unravel, but also with a hint of longing.

Daphne had said nothing of what had happened between her and Harry, and neither had he. Pansy wouldn’t have minded if both had simply moved on from whatever had begun budding between them, but that was not the case.

Not a meal passed where she did not catch the girl watching Harry, only averting her eyes when the boy caught her.

It was beginning to irk Pansy and Tracey who had tried to speak with their friend on several occasions over the past weeks.

“Are we going to Hogsmeade today, or not?” Pansy huffed as the majority of the students began exiting the Great Hall in droves.

Daphne merely nodded, and the trio of girls were joined by the ever-quiet Millicent Bulstrode trailing after them.

Her presence had never bothered any of the girls.

Millicent did not say much, but she listened and offered her input on conversations from time to time.

The group remained silent in the carriage, and Pansy and Tracey shared a look and made a silent agreement.

Today, they would get the bottom of what had happened, and with both of them pressing her, Daphne would be unable to dismiss them.

“Where shall we go first?” Tracey asked the others.

“Honeydukes,” Daphne answered with a half-smile. “I’d like some Honeyed Pistachios.”

Pansy nodded her agreement.

She needed to replenish her own stock of treats she had been depleting since their last visit.

Exiting the carriage and making their way towards the shop, the silence amongst them continued, and did so until they had purchased their wares.

With each of them ladened down with their goods, they then paid a visit to Scrivenshaft’s for some ink and quills before spending some time in Gladrags, something that usually cheered Daphne up.

This time, however, she took little interest in the dresses on offer and left without purchasing a single item.

“The Three Broomsticks?” Millicent suggested.

It was lunchtime by the time they reached the pub where evidently, many other students had the same idea.

“There’s a table by the window,” Tracey pointed out, nodding to where a group of Hufflepuffs had just vacated their seats.

Settling into them, they waited for Madame Rosmerta to take their order, and once more as they did whenever they ate, Daphne’s eyes were searching the room, undoubtedly seeking out only one person.

“For the love of Merlin, Daphne, what the hell is going on with you?” Tracey huffed.

“Nothing,” the blonde denied with a frown.

“You’re a shit liar,” Tracey sighed. “You’ve been like this since Boxing Day.”

“Since your father came to speak with you,” Pansy broke in. “What happened?”

Daphne deflated as she shook her head.

“My father insisted on speaking with Harry, so Snape got him.”

“And it didn’t end well,” Pansy guessed.

“No,” Daphne murmured. “He was really rude to Harry and…”

“You saw the side of Harry you don’t want to see when someone pisses him off,” Pansy interjected.

Daphne nodded.

“My father was in the wrong for what he did, and Harry even offered him an apology to begin with, but then it all just went really badly. Harry went off on my father and even Professor Snape. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“On Professor Snape?” Millicent questioned interestedly.

“You’d think it was a stupid thing to do, but Snape was so shocked that he didn’t say anything. From what I can gather, he was in love with Harry’s mother and he used to be a Death Eater.”

“He did not,” Tracey refuted in disbelief.

Daphne frowned as she gestured for the girl to be quiet.

“I think Harry was telling the truth,” she whispered. “Why wouldn’t Snape deny if he wasn’t, and why would Harry lie?”

“He wouldn’t,” Pansy assured the girl. “He is not stupid enough to make baseless accusations.”

“What about threats?”

Pansy frowned questioningly.

“What do you mean?”

“He told my father that there would be a reckoning when he returned to Britain, that those that had wronged his family would suffer for it.”

Pansy released a deep breath.

Harry had told her very much the same on more than one occasion, and she had no reason to think he didn’t mean every word he’d said.

“He would not make idle threats,” she confirmed.

Daphne shook her head confusedly.

“I know the Potters were an influential family, but they do not hold that much power to get away with something like that. Not even Harry with what he did to Voldemort.”

“They don’t,” Pansy agreed diplomatically.

“Then how can he say it? It just makes the conversation between Snape and my father afterwards even stranger.”

“What did they say?”

“Not much at first,” Daphne snorted. “They were both in shock, and then my father became rather angry…”

Flashback

“How dare he?” Jonathan whispered furiously. “The boy oversteps. He has the gall to address me in such a way?”

“You brought it on yourself, Jonathan!” Ophelia snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. “The boy was not even in the wrong and had the decency to apologise, and you threw it back in his face. Your family has always been on reasonable terms with the Potters, but you have probably ruined that now.”

“The boy slighted me!”

“Only after you slighted him!”

Jonathan glared at his wife.

“Oh, I will have the last laugh,” he declared. “I will ensure the boy regrets what he has done.”

Ophelia shook her head.

“You stupid man,” she huffed. “It would be best for all of us if you accept what has happened and move on. You can tell the other Lords that he and Daphne had your blessing to attend the ball together and that there is no animosity on your part for what happened, but that you have reminded our daughter of the correct propriety. I would even go as far as to suggest that you offer the boy an apology for your conduct. You handled the situation very poorly.”

“Whose side are you on?” Jonathan chuckled humourlessly.

“Yours,” Ophelia answered, “but when you act like a fool, you know I will not hesitate in telling you. This was foolish, and you may have made an enemy of the boy. The Potter name may not be as lofty as the Malfoy one, but he is Harry Potter. They will clamour to him, Jonathan, and if you are on poor terms with him, it will reflect badly on you. Offer the boy an olive branch, apologise, and mend the rift you have created.”

“I will do no such thing,” Jonathan replied stubbornly.

Ophelia shook her head at her husband but it was Professor Snape that spoke.

“I think perhaps your wife is right in this instance,” he sighed. “Potter is but a child now, but in only a few years, he will reach his majority.”

Jonathan waved off the concern dismissively.

“That is a few years from now,” he pointed out. “By then, he would have forgotten about all of this.”

Snape did not seem so sure, his expression forming into a grimace as he chose his next words carefully.

“It is between now and then that should concern you,” he murmured. “Potter’s guardian is not someone you will wish to cross.”

“His guardian?”

Snape nodded.

“I am unable to say much, but I must advise you against antagonising the boy.”

Jonathan frowned deeply.

“What can you tell me, Severus?”

Snape shook his head. The Potions Master was still in shock from the vitriol that had been sent his way.

“I can tell you that Potter is right,” he whispered. “It is not Lucius that should concern you, not in the future, at least. His claims that Draco will inherit the Black title and fortune will prove to be unfounded,” he added pointedly.

“Unfounded?” Ophelia questioned. “Much of his influence relies on that happening.”

“It does,” Snape agreed.

“But if Draco will not inherit, then who?” Jonathan questioned.

Snape said nothing else but waited for the realisation to hit.

“Potter! But, how?”

“Think carefully, and the answer will come to you,” Snape urged.

Jonathan did so, frowning deeply.

“Charlus,” he scoffed after a moment. “He married Dorea Black, but that would not grant Potter the Lordship.”

“There is more to it,” Snape explained. “I cannot say more, but it is the truth.”

“Merlin,” Jonathan sighed. “Sirius Black?”

Snape shook his head.

“Remains on the run but had no hand in raising the boy.”

“Then who?” Jonathan asked himself. “The only other Blacks are Lucius’s wife…”

“Who would not raise the boy who was to inherit what she believes is her son’s right,” Ophelia mused aloud.

“Andromeda…”

“Was cast out of the family after marrying Ted Tonks,” Ophelia finished.

“Bellatrix is in Azkaban, and most of the others died. The only one I can think of is…”

“Does she live?” Jonathan asked worriedly.

“Now do you see why I advised against meeting with him?” Snape grumbled.

“You can’t possibly mean Cassiopeia Black?” Ophelia gasped. “Why would she raise him?”

“Who is Cassiopeia Black?” Daphne asked curiously.

She was certain she had heard the name mentioned before, perhaps in passing, but it was familiar to her, nonetheless.

“She was Grindelwald’s most dangerous follower,” her mother explained. “When Dumbledore defeated him, she vanished and wasn’t heard from again.”

“Well, bugger,” her father groaned. “My grandfather told me stories about the war on the continent, and of Cassiopeia Black. Is she really raising him?”

“I can confirm nothing,” Snape replied, though his tone and expression told Jonathan all he needed to know.

“What do I do?” he muttered as he began pacing back and forth.

“Nothing,” Ophelia urged. “If you cannot bring yourself to apologise, I suggest you do nothing. If he is to be the Lord Black, you will not wish to offend him more than you have, and I would not offer an apology if it isn’t sincere. It would not be well received.”

Jonathan nodded his agreement.

“Severus?” he pressed.

“I believe that your wife is right,” the man replied. “As much as it displeases me to admit, Potter will become an exceedingly influential member of society here sooner than most would like, and he will be in a position to bring change. I do not believe that he is merely offering empty words.”

Jonathan appeared to be worried.

“And the threats?”

Snape shrugged.

“We can hope that he is showing an immaturity and that he will grow beyond them, but I would not be so sure,” he said more to himself than anyone else. “If he is not, then things could become rather messy. He possesses talent, that cannot be denied. Whether or not he has the follow through is another thing entirely.”

“But if he has been raised by Black…”

“Then it is possible,” Snape conceded with a thoughtful frown, “or if other influences are playing a part,” he added.

“Other influences?”

Snape shook his head of whatever thoughts were plaguing him.

“I am speculating on something I have no knowledge of,” he explained. “Regardless, Potter may be insolent, but I would urge caution around him, if only for whom you believe has raised him.”

Jonathan nodded.

“Well, the meeting did not go as expected, but I have learned much today. Daphne, you are to be careful around that boy.”

“That’s it?” Daphne scoffed. “You made all of this fuss, and all you have to say is to be careful?”

Jonathan nodded.

“If he is to be the Lord Black, then he has not overstepped his boundaries. If anything, you overstepped yours.”

Daphne could only shake her head in disbelief at the turn of events.

She hadn’t understood much of what had been said, but she’d absorbed enough to know that things were not as her father had believed them to be, and that somehow he had even almost given her permission to continue seeing Harry.

Daphne left Professor Snape’s office confused, and equally determined to have a conversation with Harry.

End Flashback

Little did she know, that wasn’t to be.

Harry had not spoken more than a few words to her since the meeting with her father, and in truth, Daphne didn’t know why.

Had she offended him in some way, or was he taking out whatever ill-feelings he had towards her father on her?

“We just haven’t spoken about it,” she finished with a shrug.

“Are you angry with him for how he spoke to your father?” Pansy questioned.

Daphne shook her head.

“No, my father deserved it for being a prat. I don’t even think he has apologised to Harry.”

“Well, Harry won’t hold that against you. Maybe he just doesn’t want to get you into any more trouble. You should speak with him to at least clear the air. You can’t keep wandering around being a miserable cow.”

“I’m not being a miserable cow!”

“Yes, you are,” Tracey broke in. “It’s either that, or you’re staring at him during mealtimes. It makes me feel sick.”

“And me,” Millicent added with a grimace.

Daphne scowled at the three other girls.

“Fine, I will talk to him,” she conceded with a huff. “Is what Snape said about him true?”

Pansy frowned thoughtfully.

“You know I can’t confirm anything, the same way I wouldn’t give away any of your secrets, but Harry is more than capable of fulfilling the promises he has made, and not just because of what happened when he is a baby. He is already a powerful wizard, and by the time he reaches his majority, there won’t be many who will wish to offend him, even if he is a half-blood.”

Daphne nodded her understanding and offered Madame Rosmerta a grateful smile as she brought the girls their food.

She seemed to be somewhat happier having discussed what had happened, but that didn’t mean Pansy liked the idea of her two friends continuing any kind of entanglement.

They suited each other well, that she couldn’t deny. However, she couldn’t help but feel envious towards Daphne.

She was perhaps one of the only girls their age that many of the other Lords and Ladies would deem to be a suitable match for what Harry would become.

Her family was well thought of, wealthy, and on good terms with most other families in wizarding Britain.

A match between Harry and Daphne would make sense, but one between Harry and Pansy would not be so well received.

The Parkinson’s had a spotted past at best and had always been firmly aligned with more traditional and conservative politics.

With the power and influence that Harry would one day wield, it wouldn’t sit right with some of the neutral and the more politically opposite to her family’s values.

Still, as foolish as it was, there was a part of her that hoped things could change, and that her father’s blunt denial that such a thing would come to pass could be proven false.

‘Do not grow to love him, Pansy. It will only cause you hurt that I would never wish upon you.’

‘You wouldn’t let me marry him?’

Her father offered her a sad smile.

‘It would never be my choice to make. The world would not like it, and if he truly possesses a political acumen, he will not give you a second thought. I’m sorry, but that is the way it is.’

That had been the brief conversation on the matter she’d shared with her father when she was twelve, and something Pansy had accepted for the most part, though she could not fully do so, not until she knew that despite the odds, it was indeed beyond the realm of possibility.

(Break)

“You want us to be placed in the lake, unconscious, and wait to be rescued?” Harry questioned, not sure that he had heard the explanation correctly.

The five judges nodded, though not all of them did so enthusiastically.

“You must all be out of your bloody minds if you think that is happening,” Harry scoffed.

“Potter,” Karkaroff warned.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the man.

“Would you do it, Professor?” he asked. “Would any of you put yourselves in such a vulnerable position? Bloody hell, Delacour’s sister is a child!”

“All necessary precautions will be taken,” Dumbledore assured him.

Harry remained unconvinced despite the benevolent smile the man gave him.

“You’re not taking the precaution of not doing it,” he pointed out.

The Hogwarts headmaster’s smile fell and Harry caught a glimpse of Cassiopeia’s smile.

She, along with the parents of the other prospective hostages had been invited to discuss the second task, something Harry admittedly had not considered would entail this.

When Viktor had eventually deciphered the clue, he though perhaps they would take his Firebolt, but certainly not that they intended on placing live hostages in the lake.

“I must agree with Mr Potter,” Mr Chang interjected. “If Cho is willing to assist Mr Diggory in the tournament, she has our blessing to do so, but I also have my reservations about her being unconscious. What if something was to go wrong? What assurances do we have that will not happen?”

Harry nodded his agreement, as did Mrs Delacour.

“I will personally be casting the necessary magic,” Dumbledore responded.

“I don’t care if Merlin himself crawls his arse out of whatever tomb he’s in and casts it,” Harry replied. “Magic is not infallible. If something goes wrong, it is our lives on the line.”

Dumbledore released a deep sigh.

“I suppose you have a suggestion, Mr Potter?”

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “I am willing to volunteer to help, but we will all be allowed to remain conscious.”

“And how will we know that you have not assisted your champion?” Crouch questioned.

“We could take their wands,” Bagman suggested.

“How many bludgers did you take to the head during your career, Bagman?” Harry asked curiously. “The young lady here does not have a wand, and I do not think it wise for myself and Miss Chang to surrender ours, just in case something goes awry. I do not even think Miss Delacour should be used as a hostage.”

“I want to do it,” Gabrielle piped up. “I want to help Fleur.”

The girl was determined, something that Harry admired, but she truly wouldn’t know what she was getting herself into until it was too late.

With a sigh, he shook his head.

“How old are you, Gabrielle?” he asked.

“I’m eight,” she answered with a bright smile.

Harry’s gaze shifted towards the girl’s mother and the woman deflated.

“She will not be convinced otherwise, I’m afraid. Gabrielle is a stubborn girl.”

“You can say no,” Harry pointed out.

“I would never hear the end of it,” the woman chuckled. “I have every faith that Fleur will be successful, but I would like it to be safer.”

“Then me and Miss Chang will be keeping our wands,” Harry declared. “You can always check them before and after we have been in the lake to ensure that we don’t interfere, but I will absolutely do so if I feel that we are in danger. Those are the terms.”

“I agree with them,” Mr Chang declared.

Mrs Delacour nodded.

“I agree.”

The judges did not seem to be pleased by the development, but with the task taking place the next day, they had little choice but to concede to the concessions.

“Very well,” Crouch grumbled, “but any interference will result in disqualification for your champions. I need not explain that will severely impact their chances of winning the tournament.”

Harry shrugged.

He knew that Viktor would agree with him.

“If that is all, then perhaps we should bring the discussion to an end?” Dumbledore suggested. “You are not to reveal your part in the task to anyone, and you will be collected at midnight tonight to begin the process of preparing you for your time in the lake.”

The others immediately began filing out of Dumbledore’s office, but Harry remained behind, his attention now focused on the familiar bird perched on the desk.

Cassiopeia shot him a questioning look, and Harry waved her off.

He wanted to speak with the man alone.

“Is there something I can help you with, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“You had my father’s cloak.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“It is a rather exceptional item, and he allowed me the time to study it,” he explained. “Unfortunately, he died before I could return.”

It was a reasonable explanation.

“What did you discover about it?” Harry asked curiously.

“That it cannot be replicated,” Dumbledore chuckled. “The magic within is unique and is not something that can be used fully unless it is by someone that possesses it naturally.”

“I suppose that is a good thing,” Harry mused aloud. “We wouldn’t want too many people wandering around with cloaks like this.”

Dumbledore frowned at the thought.

“That is quite true,” he replied. “I expect you have caused more than your fair share of trouble when using it.”

Harry merely grinned in response.

“It has been most useful.”

Dumbledore’s beard twitched in amusement.

“I must say, I admire your fortitude,” he said appraisingly. “Standing up to us and insisting on changes to the task.”

Harry shrugged.

“I don’t like the idea of being defenceless, and the girl should not be put in danger.”

“None of you would have been,” Dumbledore replied with certainty. “Forgive me if I sound boastful, but I am an exceedingly accomplished wizard, Harry.”

“You are,” Harry agreed, “but I would never be willing to place my life in the hands of another. The one time that happened, I lost my parents.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

“They truly were wonderful people,” he sighed. “You remind me of them both in their own ways. You have the confidence of your mother, and the bravery of your father.”

“It is kind of you to say so, Headmaster, but let us not pretend that they would approve of the life I am living. I can’t think of anyone who would want this for their children.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore murmured, “but I believe they would be proud of you, nonetheless.”

The perched phoenix trilled gently as it took to the air and hovered between them.

“I believe Fawkes likes you,” Dumbledore chuckled. “He is not keen on many.”

Harry snorted as he reached up a hand and stroked the bird’s plumage.

“I had been wondering who he belonged to,” Harry explained. “How did you meet him?”

“It is something of a family trait,” Dumbledore informed him thoughtfully. “It appears as though they are attracted to our magic and offer themselves as companions to some of us. Fawkes came to me when I was in my twenties and has been my companion since.”

“That is an interesting magical trait,” Harry acknowledged. “Maybe we could discuss it further another time. I expect you have some very interesting theories.”

Dumbledore smiled as he nodded.

“I would like that very much,” he replied. “It is not often people wish to merely discuss magic with me. I fear it is my feats that attract those conversationalists and not merely the study of what made them possible.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry replied with a bow before heading towards the exit.

Cassiopeia had spoken with him on several occasions about Dumbledore, how shrewd the man could be, but also how brilliant, something she had acknowledged reluctantly.

It would be a missed opportunity to not pick the man’s brain, despite his own reservations.

Harry was not foolish enough to believe the Hogwarts headmaster was a paragon of utter virtue as most viewed him.

No, he would need to be cautious around him, but there was much to be gained from keeping him on friendly terms, and Harry already suspected Dumbledore knew more about his cloak than he had revealed.

(Break)

Gellert studied the Horcrux intently, pushing away the pulses of magic that washed over him. If he was not so well-versed in the Mind Arts, it would have taken control of him within days of it being in his possession.

Nevertheless, he could not help but marvel at the wondrous creation in front of him.

Lord Voldemort was quite the wizard to create such a thing, a thought that left him as impressed as he was concerned.

Harry would truly have his work cut out for him when the time came for them to meet.

The boy would need all the help he could get, something that Gellert had been contributing to with only Cassie and Albus being any the wiser.

Still, there was much more to be done, and much the boy could learn from him.

He would have to see Harry for himself in due course to truly understand just what the Horcrux had done for him.

If his working theory was correct based on what he himself had experienced from merely being in the presence of the locket, then even Cassiopeia did not know the extent of what Harry was capable of.

Did Harry?

Gellert smirked to himself.

Of course he did.

From everything Cassie had told him, Harry was no fool and would be aware of what he had been unwittingly gifted.

If he had, as Gellert suspected, received both knowledge and discernible memories from the soul piece that had latched on to him, then the odds of him emerging from the impending conflict were increased exponentially.

Adding the help that Gellert could provide, Harry may just surpass his foe.

Scratching away with his quill, he finished the final line of the reams of parchment he had been working on for several weeks now.

Within the pages contained his own thoughts on magic, and every last spell that he had created, none of which were known to any.

Gellert was pleased to share them with the boy, for the woman who had been so devoted to him despite his downfall, and for the respect he had for Harry’s grandfather that had once been an impressive foe.

If there was any that needed Gellert’s knowledge for what he would face, it was Harry Potter.

Still, he would request a meeting with the boy when the time was right, to both sate his curiosity of the magical anomaly he was, and to simply make Harry’s acquaintance after having heard so much about him.

Rolling up the pieces of parchment, he tied them together before readying them to be delivered to a boy he had never met yet felt something akin to affection for.

“May your enemies fall as you rise, Harry Potter,” Gellert whispered. “And may you perish painfully for all you have done,” he added to the locket.

As impressed as he was with the magic Lord Voldemort had created, it still sickened Gellert to have learned of the man’s transgressions.

“If only I had my wand and was not such an old man,” he mused aloud. “It is not to be so, but you will still face the best and worst of me. I give you my word that you will feel my wrath.”

The locket trembled on the table in protest and Gellert shook his head.

“You cannot escape Death, Tom, and it is he himself that will come for you. He may carry the name of another, but it is a Peverell you will face.”

With a flourish of his quill, he added the symbol of the Hallows to the roll of parchment, nodding satisfactorily when it was done.

All that remained was for this to be given to Harry, and the rest would be up to him.

Gellert knew the boy had a monumental task ahead of him, but if anyone could achieve what many would deem to be the impossible, it would indeed be Harry Potter.

(Break)

“THE CHAMPIONS WILL HAVE ONE HOUR FROM THE SOUND OF THE CLAXON TO RETRIEVE THEIR HOSTAGES,” Dumbledore announced to the crowd who began talking excitedly amongst themselves.

Viktor felt no such emotion.

Along with the sudden nervousness he felt, an unwavering sense of determination set in.

Why Harry would consent to being placed under the lake, he knew not, but Viktor knew he would never hear the end of it.

“What I’ll miss the most,” he grumbled to himself amusedly.

He would miss Harry, more than anyone else when he graduated Durmstrang at the end of the year, but it wasn’t like he would ever tell the boy that.

Harry was insufferable enough already without knowing how much Viktor appreciated everything he had done for him these past four years.

Helping with Quidditch practices was one thing, but this?

He’d have to get Harry season tickets every year he remained a professional player.

Viktor took a deep breath as he waited for the task to begin and took a glance at the other two champions.

Diggory appeared to be as determined as him, and if truth be told, the Hogwarts representative needed a better showing than he had given in the first task.

Not that he had done badly, and he had been woefully unprepared.

This time, they would all be on an even footing.

If Viktor felt somewhat nervous about what was to come, Delacour was absolutely terrified.

From what little he had listened to; Viktor could only conclude that the Beauxbatons champion would be attempting to rescue her little sister.

If he wasn’t so focused on the task at hand, perhaps he would be inclined to offer the girl some reassuring words, tell her that with Harry in her company, she would come to no harm.

Despite how rather uncaring Harry could be to those he did not like; he would never allow anything to happen to an innocent child.

He had a thing for protecting and defending those that could not do it for themselves.

It was simply his nature.

Viktor had watched him since he’d made his acquaintance; how he looked out for his friends, how he defended them, and how he provided what they needed.

Harry Potter was perhaps the kindest person he’d ever met, just not to those who got on the wrong side of him.

Many at Durmstrang had done so, and they had not fared well.

The smirk that tugged at Viktor’s lips fell as the awaited claxon sounded and he immediately drew his wand.

Setting to work with the rather uncomfortable transfiguration, he plunged into the depths and barrelled towards the deepest, darkest part of the lake where he had no doubt the hostages would have been taken.

Of course they would have.

The tournament organisers would be doing the champions no favours, as demonstrated by the requirement to face off with a dragon during the first task.

(Break)

It was an odd experience to say the least, to find himself tied to a large effigy of a merman under the lake, but Harry was taking it in his stride as best he could, despite the perpetual feeling of unease that was plaguing him.

His wand had been in his hand since they had been placed here, ready to defend himself, and the others if necessary.

Cho Chang too seemed to be calm, and though the young, French veela had initially been excited by the assortment of curious creatures that came to see them, that was no longer so.

The longer they spent down here, the more unsettled she had become, and Harry had already cast several Calming Charms on the girl.

She had no business being here, and he firmly stood by his initial assessment that an alternative should have been found.

He now regretted insisting that they all be allowed to remain conscious.

The child should have indeed been placed into an enchanted sleep with Harry and Chang to watch over her.

Still, there was nothing that could be done now except wait for the champions to arrive.

Harry expected that would be soon.

According to his watch, it was nearing the half-way mark of the task that had begun at 11am.

Squeezing Gabrielle Delacour’s hand comfortingly, he gave her a nod of encouragement.

Soon enough, they would be out of here.

It was only a few moments later that Gabrielle tugged frantically on his sleeve and pointed towards a large mass rushing towards them from the distance.

It wasn’t until the figure was only a few feet away that Harry recognised it as Viktor, and he breathed a sigh of relief, though he was perplexed by his appearance.

The Bulgarian had opted to transfigure himself into quite the unnerving human/shark hybrid that had no business existing.

In truth, it was an impressive feat of magic, but one that Harry would not be attempting himself, not when much simpler and less dangerous alternatives existed.

Still, Viktor was compelled to impress the judges.

He attempted to gnaw through the ropes binding Harry to the statue with his viciously sharp teeth until he held up his arms in protest and glared at Viktor who even as a shark had the decency to look abashed.

Spotting some sharp stones on the floor, Harry nodded towards them.

Having retrieved one, Viktor began hacking away at the ropes, freeing Harry quickly and gesturing for him to follow.

Harry attempted to do so, only to be prevented by the little veela that clung to his hand desperately.

Turning towards her, there was no mistaking the fear she felt at the prospect of him leaving her, and he looked towards Viktor questioningly.

Where was Delacour?

Viktor seemingly understood and shook his head, drawing a finger across his throat.

Delacour wasn’t coming.

It was then that Harry noticed the various wounds that Viktor was sporting; a myriad of claw and teeth marks littering his body.

Fleur must have fallen victim to one of the many creatures that dwelled here.

Knowing he couldn’t leave her, Harry deflated and shot Viktor a look of pleading.

The Bulgarian rolled his eyes, but nodded, and gestured for him to hurry.

Without hesitation, Harry cut the girl free and pulled her towards him, frowning as something pulled back.

One of the mermen had seized her other hand and was shaking his head at Harry, his trident levelled at him.

Harry did not appreciate the threat, and he narrowed his eyes as he pointed his wand at the merman, all whilst Gabrielle fought frantically against the hold of the creature.

She was panicking once more, thrashing in the water, but the merman would not relent, his efforts doubling as the rest of his kind joined him.

Harry’s nostrils flared as more tridents were pointed towards him, and he felt his anger begin to surface.

He did not wish to harm the merpeople, but they were frightening Gabrielle, and attempting to prevent him from taking her back to her mother.

It was at this point that Viktor intervened, gesturing for peace between them, but the merpeople would not relent, and Harry had already grown tired of the fruitless attempt at diplomacy.

With a flick of his wand, the merman that was holding on to Gabrielle recoiled, the Stinging Hex catching him on the underside of the wrist.

It was intended as nothing more than a warning, but the creatures saw it as an outright act of hostility and they reacted immediately, charging towards Harry with their weapons poised.

Even with the head of a shark, Harry did not miss the look of alarm that formed on Viktor’s face.

Not that he focused on it.

In one fluid movement, he pulled the little veela behind him as he brandished his wand in a sweeping motion, buying himself some time by banishing the creatures backwards.

Before they could compose themselves for another charge, Harry had already begun his next spell, twirling his wand this time, warping the water around him and Gabrielle.

Holding the girl closely, he unleashed the accumulated magic, the force blowing the two of them backwards several feet.

It gave Harry the perfect vantage point to witness the enormous sea snake he had created, and the comical response of Viktor as he fled from the creature as it lunged towards the merpeople.

They dispersed, leaving the trio free to leave, though Viktor remained transfixed on the village as they did so, his gaze switching between the snake and Harry.

When the home of their temporary hosts was no longer visible, he shook his head, and it was only a few moments later that they broke the surface of the lake.

“What the hell was that?” Viktor gasped breathlessly after he had undone his transfiguration.

Harry shrugged as he reaffirmed his grip on Gabrielle.

“Just something I thought might work,” he answered.

Viktor snorted.

“Something you thought might work?” he despaired. “That could have killed me!”

“It wouldn’t have killed anyone,” Harry sighed. “Its purpose was only to keep the merpeople at bay, nothing more.”

Viktor chuckled humourlessly before a deep frown marred his features.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be rescuing you,” he pointed out.

“Oh, would you like me to act like a damsel in distress?” Harry snarked.

“Just, shut up,” Viktor huffed amusedly. “Let’s get back. How long do we have left?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Harry answered after checking his watch.

Viktor nodded, and they continued on their way to the shore.

“Where is Fleur?” Gabrielle asked worriedly.

Harry looked towards Viktor who shook his head.

“Grindylows,” he muttered. “I saw her struggling with a group. I chased them off, but she was hurt and her bubble had collapsed. The last thing I saw was her swimming back up.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“You will see her when we are back,” he assured Gabrielle.

The girl did not seem to be sure, but she said nothing else on the matter, her grip tightening around Harry’s neck as he continued swimming.

Viktor too spoke no further until they heard the cheering from the crowd begin to fill their ears, and by the time they reached shallow enough water to stand in, all three of them were cold, wet, and tired.

“GABRIELLE!” a frantic voice called before the little veela was pulled from his back and into the arms of her sister.

The two of them began babbling to one another in French and were quickly joined by their mother.

Before Harry could catch his bearings, he found himself being ushered into a nearby tent where he was set upon by the Hogwarts healer.

The woman placed a hot blanket around his shoulders, and all but forced a pepper-up potion down his throat.

He coughed at the intrusion, though the immediate warmth was welcome.

“How are you feeling, Mr Potter?” the healer asked.

“I’ve been better,” Harry chuckled. “I’m fine, but I could really do with stretching my legs. They feel a little dull after being under the water for so long.”

The healer hummed as she eyed him speculatively.

“You can go for two minutes, but I want you back here. Do not make me look for you.”

Harry nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when he stood, the cramp in his legs ebbing away as he stepped outside into the flurry of activity.

In the minutes that he was in the tent, Diggory had arrived with Chang, and the duo along with Viktor were being attended to by other healers in attendance.

“Thank you!” a relieved voice broke into his thoughts, and Harry found himself wrapped in a tight embrace, and a pair of warm lips pressed against his cheeks. “Thank you for looking after her. She told me what you did for her down there.”

Harry merely nodded and the French champion released him, the smile she offered one seldom seen from the older girl.

“It was my pleasure,” Harry replied. “She’s a very sweet girl.”

Fleur nodded and kissed his cheek once more.

“Well, that only makes it more worth it,” Harry quipped, shifting his attention to the younger sister who had also been wrapped up in a blanket. “Are you okay?”

Gabrielle nodded, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

“Thank you, Harry Potter.”

Harry snorted amusedly.

“You’re very welcome.”

The girl offered him a bright smile, followed by her mother who had undoubtedly been deeply concerned when Fleur returned without her.

“I cannot put into words how grateful I am…”

Harry waved the woman off.

“I know,” he assured her as he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder.

“I did say two minutes,” Madame Pomfrey said firmly. “Come on, Potter. You’re still shaking.”

Rolling his eyes at Gabrielle, Harry followed the healer into the tent as the judges began their announcements, though he could not hear them over the sound of his own steaming ears after being fed another pepper-up potion.

“You don’t seem to be as cold as you were,” Madame Pomfrey observed.

“If you give me another one of those potions, I might actually combust.”

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Your father had the same cheek.”

“I have heard that.”

The corner of the woman’s lips twitched.

“It was never a dull moment when James Potter found himself under my care, even if I could have done without the additional trouble he brought.”

Harry grinned, the fondness in which the woman spoke of his father warming him more than any blanket or potion could.

“How did you do?” he asked as Viktor entered the tent.

“I got a forty-eight,” he answered proudly. “I’m in the lead.”

“Good,” Harry praised. “Only one more left to go.”

Viktor nodded.

“Only one more left.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn’t even a champion and already he’d had just about enough of the tournament, and judging by Viktor’s countenance, he too was keen for it all to be over.

(Break)

“Barty, have you finished with your brewing?”

Crouch offered his master a bow before nodding.

“I have, My Lord.”

“Then you have my permission to proceed with your plan,” Voldemort granted, “but no other is to know of it. I will excuse your absence myself.”

The smile that formed on Crouch’s face was nothing short of maniacal.

It had been weeks ago that Barty had approached him away from the prying ears of Lucius and Wormtail, his plan risky, but too tempting to dismiss.

“I will not let you down, My Lord,” he vowed.

“See that you do not, Barty,” Voldemort urged. “I would sooner you give your life than be caught. Do you understand?”

“Of course, My Lord,” Barty answered before taking his leave of the room, the smile he wore not wavering despite the warning ringing in his ears.