A Promise Kept - Chapter 26 - The Invitation

The Invitation

She could not remember a time that she had been gripped by such a palpable fear. Fleur knew that facing a dragon would be quite the frightening experience but knowing it and doing were proving to be two very different things.

She had never seen anything so enormous as the beast on the opposite side of the stadium to her. Even Diggory’s Swedish Short Snout paled in comparison, and for a moment, Fleur found herself rooted to the spot, unsure on whether or not her chosen tactic would work.

Theoretically, it should, even if such a thing had not been attempted on a dragon before.

Fleur, however, was incredibly gifted in using Charms and Enchantments, and if anyone could do it, it was her.

Releasing a deep breath, she braced herself as she stepped forward to take a considerable risk, raising her wand as she began chanting in a sing-song manner.

At the very least, the dragon was taking notice of her, and she cheered internally as the magic began to work as intended…

Despite how well she had performed, Fleur had placed last in the standings when all three of the champions had completed the task, thanks in part to some rather unscrupulous judging from Igor Karkaroff.

Diggory’s score, she could understand.

It could certainly be argued his was the most exciting of approaches in retrieving his egg, but Krum’s efforts had seen several of the dragons real eggs squashed by their mother.

In hindsight, as impressive as Fleur’s approach had been, there had been little excitement for the spectators. To the judges, it had been a safe, measured performance, but Fleur could not see why she had been penalised for that.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the odd egg she now found herself in possession of.

The shrieking whenever it was opened left her ears ringing, and head pounding, but she knew she had to perform better in the second task, whatever that may be.

She had yet to figure out the clue, but Fleur had time to do so, and knew the solution would not elude her for long.

The screeching had to mean something, a language of sorts. She just needed to figure out exactly where it originated from.

“Who is it?” she asked as a knock sounded at the door to her room.

Since the first task had concluded, Fleur had only left it to attend meals, taking some much-needed time to simply relax after the ordeal of facing the dragon.

“It is Madame Maxime.”

Fleur opened the door to admit the woman, who offered her a warm smile.

She had been rather surprised when Fleur had revealed that she already knew what it was she would be facing but had not pressed the matter. Evidently, she believed she had taken the initiative to discover it for herself, and Fleur was not going to correct when it was ‘all part of the spirit of the competition’.

“Fleur, you were not at breakfast this morning, so, I suspect you missed the announcement pertaining to what comes next in the tournament.”

“The second task isn’t until February. What did I miss?”

Madame Maxime offered an apologetic smile.

“The Yule Ball that is to be held here on Christmas Day. You are expected to attend with a partner to open it with a dance.”

Fleur grimaced at the thought as what that would entail.

It meant that she would need to accept an invitation from a boy, one that would undoubtedly spend the night drooling in her presence at best, and at worst wouldn’t be able to control themselves long enough to even dance with her.

This was the very last thing she wished to do, and in truth, was much more daunting than facing off with a dragon.

Her time here was already difficult enough with all the ogling boys, and Fleur feared it would only get worse with the prospect of her needing a date for a ball she did not want to attend.

“May I make a suggestion, Fleur?” Madame Maxime asked.

Fleur frowned as she nodded, and the Headmistress took a seat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for her to join her.

“You could attend the ball with anyone you wish to, but we both know there will be considerable attention on you with so many pairs of eyes on the Veela and her date.”

Fleur grimaced as she nodded.

“That is the very thing you should put to the back of your mind, as difficult as that will be.”

“Sorry?” Fleur asked confusedly.

Madame Maxime smiled at her.

“Fleur, we both know that no matter what you do, the media attention will be on you and Mr Krum. I have it on good authority that his date is a student from Hogwarts, one that will certainly raise eyebrows in certain circles, but it is a safe option for him, unless some rather unpleasant accusations of unscrupulous behaviour are levelled his way. What I am saying is, you should not worry about how you comport yourself, because it will always be taken the wrong way, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you make a stand of your own and show you do not care what the media prints about you. I would like for you to be able to enjoy this ball as much as you can, given the circumstances, and we both know there is one boy that can control himself around you well enough.”

Fleur frowned before her eyes widened.

“You mean Harry,” she snorted.

“I do, and as a student of both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, he is able to attend.”

Fleur couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but she understood the logic behind the idea.

Harry could certainly control himself around her, and if he was to make an appearance, all eyes of the media would be on him.

No, she could not do that to him.

Fleur liked Harry and would not see him placed in any situation that would make him so uncomfortable. She would much rather attend with a drooling buffoon, and then there was Gabrielle to consider.

She had not said as much, but Harry was uncompromisingly special to her in a way that Fleur could not even think about broaching the subject with her sister.

“Think about it, Fleur,” Madame Maxime urged. “Really think about it. At least discuss it with him and hear his thoughts. He’s a bright boy, and this could well benefit him just as much as it will you.”

“I don’t see how…”

“Because in just a few short years, he will return to Britain to take up his seat on the Wizengamot and will be doing so as an outsider. The ball will be a perfect opportunity for him to be seen in public, but in a controlled environment.”

Fleur shook her head.

“You’ve really thought about this,” she sighed.

“It is my job to look out for the welfare of my students, and this arrangement could be good for both you and Harry.”

Once more, the logic was sound, but that did not mean Fleur was relishing the idea.

“I will need to discuss it with Gabrielle first,” she murmured, not quite believing she was even considering the ludicrous plan her Headmistress had come up with.

(Break)

Harry did not appreciate how amused the woman appeared to be. Such an occurrence was rare in itself, and he found he did not much care for it.

“I knew it would be uncomfortable, but I didn’t expect that.”

Professor McGonagall chuckled and slid a tartan tin towards him.

“Have a biscuit, Potter,” she urged.

He helped himself to one of the ginger newts and nodded gratefully as he bit into it. Usually, it wouldn’t be his choice of confection, but there was something quite comforting about it.

“Your father used to enjoy those on the rare occasion I allowed him to have one. It made a change from the usual detention forms he was handed.”

“I’ve had more than my fair share of those.”

“Fortunately, that is a problem for your regular professors, but do not think I am beyond giving you a detention here if your behaviour warrants it.”

“Oh, I do not doubt it, Professor,” Harry replied with a grin, grimacing as another wave of discomfort shot through him.

“It will get better,” the woman assured him. “Your body is adapting. Now, before we discuss it further, do you intend on keeping me in the dark as to what your form is?”

“No, but it takes me a moment to change, and it still hurts.”

“Well, the more you do it, the easier it becomes.”

Harry nodded as he stood and began the process.

It no longer hurt so much that he screamed from the agony, but it was still a deeply unpleasant sensation that washed over him as he felt his entire body start to shrink.

“Well, I am not surprised it so uncomfortable,” Professor McGonagall whispered as she walked around him in a circle. “That is a significant transformation, Potter, and one you should be very proud of.”

Harry nodded before reverting back to his human form and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I am,” he assured her. “I didn’t expect to be something so…”

“Useful? Have you managed to…?”

“I did a little, and I know I need to do it more to get used to it. It isn’t the same as being on a broom.”

“No, I do not expect it is. A peregrine falcon is a wondrous creature in its own right, incredibly agile and the fastest non-magical creature in the world.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry snorted. “Did you get headaches when you began your transformations?”

“I did, and that is because the shift in how you see the world. They will pass with time, but I expect the pros outweigh the cons.”

“I can see the nostril hair of a mosquito from a mile away.”

“Do mosquitoes have nostrils?”

Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I can see them.”

Minerva shook her head, the corner of her lips tugging from her slight grin.

“Just make sure you transform regularly, and when you become adept at it, you will even be able to localise the changes to particular parts of your body.”

She demonstrated her point by shifting her eyes to become more feline.

That would certainly be a useful skill to have, but as with everything else to do with the process of becoming an Animagus, it would take both time and practice to master.

“Now, as astounded as I am that you managed to complete the first part of the process, we have other work to do. I know that you are duelling with Filius, so I was wondering if you would like to look at incorporating some Transfiguration into your work. Mind, it is rather difficult, that is why so few use it over Charms, Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes.”

“I would love to learn. I already use some, but I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Professor McGonagall smiled at his enthusiasm as she nodded.

“Well, I am no slouch in doing so, but there is someone much more experienced than me. It is widely known that Professor Dumbledore employed Transfiguration to defeat Grindelwald, and I am certain he will be quite honoured to bestow some of his knowledge onto you, Mr Potter. If, of course, you have no objections.”

She had mentioned that Professor Dumbledore might work with them, and though he knew both his mother and Sirius had their misgivings about the man, with good reason, he was quite excited by the prospect of working with him.

It was accepted by just about every Transfiguration Master of note that Albus Dumbledore was undoubtedly the most gifted amongst them, and perhaps yet to be born.

It would be foolish to say no to such an offer.

“I would really like that,” Harry answered sincerely.

“Excellent, then I shall discuss it with him. For now, I think there are a few things we can work on together. Now, I know that you are becoming quite capable with your conjuration. It is a most invaluable tool when duelling. A physical barrier between you and any incoming spells is the very best defence mostly, except from avoiding the spell altogether. As I am sure you are aware, that is not always possible. Some magical shields are excellent, but none are infallible. Conjuring or even transfiguring shelter is difficult but certainly worth learning.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“Before we try it with spells, I need to see just how competent you are. You’re up, Mr Potter. Show me what you believe would be a useful conjuration.”

(Break)

He frowned as he read the missive and shook his head before adding it to the pile of others that had accumulated. Being a prominent Lord of Great Britain meant that he received letters from his peers quite regularly.

Most were benign in nature. Some wished for his support of a bill they intended to introduce, and others were simply attempts to curry his favour.

Sirius had expected those, and for the most part, they had slowed over the years.

What he had not expected, however, was to receive offers of marriage for Harry when he was only fourteen.

As his godfather, Sirius was able to entertain the requests, but given that in just a few years, Harry would be the Lord of his own family, he would not. Even so, it had been an unexpected development, and it made him realise just how many years had gone by since he had taken the boy and Lily into hiding.

“Thirteen years,” he murmured.

With a deep sigh, he eyed the offer once more.

Lord Boot meant no insult by it, and politically, a match with his niece would make sense for Harry, but there would be no negotiations with any family.

Harry would choose who he was going to spend his life with.

Sirius could not even consider making such a decision for him. That was something for a Potter to do. Besides, he had his own things to focus on, and his demeanour immediately shifted.

“Edward?”

There was only a slight delay before the little elf appeared in front of him and offered a deep bow.

“Lord Black, sir.”

“Anything to report?”

He had employed the elf for one reason only, and that was to follow Lucius Malfoy wherever possible. Thus far, he’d gleaned little from Edward’s observations, but it was always good to know where the man was and what he was doing.

“Lord Malfoy visited the Minister of Magic last night, but Edward could not hear what they were saying,” he said apologetically. “Afterwards, he returned home and visited Mr Borgin this morning to sell some items.”

Sirius nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you, Edward.”

“Of course, Lord Black.”

He vanished with a gentle pop to continue his work, and Sirius frowned thoughtfully.

There was no indication that Lucius was in contact with Voldemort, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Edward could not access the Malfoy home, and it wasn’t as though Lucius would take any risks that might link him to the Dark Lord.

No, he was much too clever for that.

He had not avoided a long stint in Azkaban by being a fool, nor had he increased the family standing by being obtuse.

Fo all of his failings, Lucius Malfoy was a clever man, but everyone made mistakes, and he would too.

Sirus just needed to be ready for when it inevitably happened, so that he could take advantage of it.

Nothing would give him more joy than finally doing what no other had been able to do, and that was to expose Malfoy for exactly what he was.

Besides, Sirius owed him one.

Although there was no proof of his involvement, he knew in his heart of hearts that Lucius had arranged for what had happened at the World Cup, and Sirius would have his pound of flesh from the man for it.

(Break)

She knew that her sister had a rather dry sense of humour, and it was difficult to tell if she was being sarcastic or serious at times, but Gabrielle could not quite believe what she was hearing.

Surely, Fleur must be joking.

Her expression was apologetic, and her request had seemed so sincere that it was impossible to tell if this was indeed a joke, or if she was being truly being serious.

“You want to ask Harry to the ball.”

“As friends, and only if it is okay with you.”

She was not joking.

As a Veela, she understood Fleur better than any, understood that finding a date to such an event would be exceedingly difficult without having to endure the unpleasantness that would come with it.

As a Veela, she knew how invaluable Harry’s ability to control himself was to one of their kind, and as Fleur’s sister, she did not want the ball to be an unmitigated disaster because her date wasn’t able to dance with her without drooling, let alone spend an entire evening with her without losing his composure.

However, being a Veela and receiving such a request made her feel a certain things.

Jealousy was the most prevalent.

It wasn’t that Gabrielle felt that Harry was hers in any way. She cared for him deeply as a friend, but there were other feelings she could not deny. It wasn’t as though she was in love with him, but there was that side of her that was keen to get to know him in ways she would not dare speak aloud.

That was the Veela in her, the possessive, feral, and uninhibited side that was growing stronger.

It was often difficult for her to separate her human nature from the avian.

Her mother had assured her it would become easier when she reached her maturity, but until then, she knew she needed to keep a firm handle on the latter.

It would lead her into trouble if she followed those instincts, but that did not make this situation any easier.

Harry was hers, according to those baser instincts, but even as a teenage girl, it was not so easy to quell the envy, and even the urge to defend what she saw as her own.

She shook her head.

Fleur was her sister, would never do anything to hurt her, and Gabrielle could only imagine how much worse these feelings would be with someone she didn’t trust.

“Have you asked him?”

“Not yet, and I will not if you do not want me to.”

Gabrielle released a deep, calming breath before nodding.

“I know how important this is to you,” she sighed. “You should ask him. At least you will be able to have a good time.”

Fleur smiled appreciatively.

“Thank you.”

She pulled her into a hug, and Gabrielle had to once more fight her other instincts from acting out.

“You want to rip my head off, don’t you?” Fleur chuckled.

“No.”

“Do not lie to me, Gabrielle. I remember what it feels like before I had my maturity. Everything is confusing, and you cannot tell the difference between what you and the other side are feeling. It gets better.”

Gabrielle nodded.

“Sorry.”

“You should never apologise for what we are,” Fleur sighed. “Do not worry, I will take good care of Harry.”

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at her grinning sister.

Now, she was joking, or so she hoped.

“That is if he even says yes.”

“That is true, but does Harry strike you as someone who will turn down a poor, beautiful girl who needs his help?”

“No.”

“Then I will take good care of him,” Fleur teased, placing a kiss on her cheek before leaving the room.

Gabrielle growled in response, allowing the stirring creature within her to rear its head briefly.

It truly was as much a curse as it was a gift.

She didn’t wish harm upon her sister, not really, but evidently, her avian side did not have much of a sense of humour when it came to certain things.

(Break)

Minerva was taken aback by the request, but not truly surprised, though she had her reservations.

“You wish for me to begin teaching him duelling techniques?”

Filius nodded.

“I intend on entering Harry into the circuit this coming summer, should Lily agree, of course.”

“You think he is ready for that?” Minerva scoffed, her Scottish brogue becoming a little stronger.

“I do. Believe me when I say, Minerva, that I am not doing this because Harry is cocky or arrogant and needs humbling. Quite the opposite. I wish for him to see just how good he is. Despite his progress, he feels that because he cannot defeat me that he is lacking.”

“Filius, if he was to defeat you, I would eat my tartan tin.”

“He will,” Filius said solemnly. “One day, he will beat me, Minerva. His progress is astounding, and at his best, it is my experience, slight speed advantage, and spell repertoire that separates us. They will not stand up forever, and I look forward to the day his bests me. Until then, he needs experience, and the circuit is the best place he can get it.”

“And you have discussed this with Lily?”

“I have, and she has her reservations, but I believe she will grant him permission.”

Minerva released a deep breath before nodding.

“Then I will help him as best I can, and I am certain Albus will too.”

It was as though there was a part of her career that was somewhat coming full circle.

Minerva was not one to give praise lightly, and with Transfiguration being one of the most dangerous branches of magic to learn, she had to be strict to ensure the safety of her students.

For the first many years of teaching, she had been content with seeing her students become competent enough to pass their OWLs and NEWTs under her tutelage.

Few crossed the threshold of her classroom that had come close to matching her own natural aptitude for the subject, but there had been more than her fair share of students that had gone on to become excellent practitioners.

There was, however, a glaring difference between excellence and sheer, unbridled, natural talent.

Albus had told her that in his own vast experience, she had been the only one he had deemed such, and that was why he had accepted her as an apprentice.

Upon completion of her own studies, he had warned her that she might never be as fortunate as him to find another like her, that she should brace herself for that very eventuality.

Truthfully, Minerva had hoped to find someone young and as naturally gifted as her that she could truly nurture, and that had happened the first day that James Potter had walked into her classroom.

Charlus had been a terrific Transfiguration student in his own right, and a damned brilliant wizard, but James, he was something else entirely.

“What are you doing, Mr Potter?”

She had already had the boy in her office for turning the hair of another student pink, and Minerva had vowed to keep a close eye on him.

“I’m done.”

“You’re done?”

She could feel her eyes widen at the sight of the pile of needles on the desk that had been matchsticks only a moment ago. Unless this was another joke, James Potter had immediately grasped what had been required of him and had performed the magic flawlessly.

Minerva inspected each of the needles, scrutinising them closely.

They were flawless, and she shook her head, changing them back.

“Show me,” she instructed.

It was surprising to see that he had already seemingly mastered the transfiguration, but as he almost lazily wave his wand over the pile, she felt her breath hitch in her chest.

He had transfigured all of the matchsticks in one motion, not even uttering a word.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

James shrugged in response, quite uncomfortable by the attention he was receiving by the rest of the class.

“I don’t know. I just felt like I could.”

That had been the first of many times James Potter had left her reeling.

Throughout his time at Hogwarts, he did things so naturally in her classroom that it appeared as though he wasn’t even trying, but Minerva knew that despite his mischievousness, he and his closest companions worked diligently to be as talented as they were.

Well, three of them were talented.

Pettigrew had always been lacking compared to the others, which may have been one of the things that led him to betraying James and Lily.

Minerva chose not to focus on those thoughts.

Instead they shifted to the son of the boy that had equally frustrated and impressed her.

Harry too was incredibly talented, as he continued to demonstrate during the course of their lessons together, so much so, that it was all but impossible not to be reminded of James.

“You are thinking of his father.”

Minerva nodded as she wiped away an errant tear.

“It is hard not see him here, and I find myself wondering more and more how different things could’ve been for them all.”

Albus released a deep breath and nodded his understanding.

“He is as good as Goode says?”

“Better,” Minerva snorted. “I did not even explain how to conjure a physical shield. He watched me, Albus, and copied me as though that was the most normal of things.”

The Headmaster smiled.

“It brings me joy to see another so passionate and brilliant in our chosen field.”

“And me,” Minerva agreed, “but you should see him for yourself, Albus. I have mentioned that you would perhaps like to teach him some duelling techniques.”

“Ah, I see Filius has spoken to you.”

“He has, and I have my reservations…”

Albus shook his head.

“My dear, if Filius believes he is ready, then I do not doubt it. Not only would he not put Harry in danger, but he would not sully his own reputation to do so. No, I trust Filius, and should Harry compete, I look forward to watching it.”

“So, you will work with him?”

“Of course,” Albus answered without hesitation. “I am curious to see what it is that has brought that smile back to you, Minerva.”

(Break)

Switching between time zones had not been so problematic for Sirius. He had simply shifted his sleep pattern, and it only became an issue during the school holidays when he wasn’t at Hogwarts.

Even so, a few Pepper-up Potions here and there, and the occasional Sleeping Draught saw him through.

Not that it wasn’t strange to leave Hogwarts in the early evening and arrive back in America when it would be getting close to lunchtime. He rarely saw a night sky except for the winter months, but it was no challenge to ensure his bedroom was sufficiently darkened.

“You look worried,” he commented as he came upon Lily nursing a mug of tea at the kitchen table.

The woman nodded and offered him a weak smile.

“Filius wants to take Harry onto the duelling circuit during the summer.”

“That will be a hell of an experience.”

“To compete, Sirius.”

He frowned before nodding thoughtfully.

“It makes sense,” he mused aloud. “He is raving about Harry’s ability with a wand, and I know the two of them have only been using minor spells and curses against one another. I hate to think how ugly that could get if they decided to use everything they knew.”

“You’re not concerned?”

“I am,” Sirius assured her, “but Harry will never get opportunities like this again, not while being taught by someone as damned good as Filius. I get it, Lily, you’re more worried now than ever, but as long as we are careful and extra vigilant, I do not see why he shouldn’t be able to go.”

He broke off as he pondered the situation, making a note to himself to look into a few things in the coming months.

“So, you think we should let him?”

“I think it will be the most invaluable experience he could have. We both know there are people that wish to harm them, and one day, as much as you hate the very thought of it, Harry will be walking into the viper’s nest that is the Wizengamot to be among them. His mouth will undoubtedly get him into trouble, and we need to make sure his wand can get him out of it.”

Lily nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” she agreed, “but you are right. He’s not such a little boy anymore, is he?”

“He isn’t. When I was his age…”

He broke off once more and shook his head.

“I would rather you did not finish that sentence,” Lily huffed. “Speaking of which, I would like you to speak with Harry over the summer about, well, you know…”

“I do?” Sirius asked dumbly.

Lily gave him a pointed look.

“He spends more time with females around him than I would like, so yes, Sirius, he should be spoken to about…being careful.”

“Can’t you do it, you’re his mother!”

“That is exactly why I shouldn’t. It will be better coming from you. God knows why, but he might actually listen.”

“A little too embarrassing to think of Harry…”

“Do not finish that sentence!”

Sirius chuckled amusedly as Lily glared at him.

“Maybe he will be like James,” he offered comfortingly.

Lily quirked an eyebrow at him.

“James was lucky to only ever want me,” she said airily. “No, Harry is going to be trouble, just like you were, and how James would’ve been if he hadn’t met me.”

Sirius nodded his agreement.

With so many girls wanting to spend time with him, it was all but inevitable that there would be friction, more than enough if he was to date one of those in his group, and perhaps more so if he didn’t.

Nonetheless, that was Harry’s problem to deal with when the time inevitably came, but that did not mean that Sirius Black was relishing the conversation he would have with his godson during the summer the following year.

(Break)

“Now, you can understand just how much more delicate the work is when enchanting something compared to simply charming it,” Madame Alarie spoke in little more than a whisper. “It is considerably more complex, but much stronger and longer lasting.”

Harry nodded as he inspected the glass swan the woman had been working on for the past fifteen minutes.

What she had achieved in such a small amount of time would likely have taken hours, but as ever her magic was flawless.

“So, this could last forever?”

“Indeed. Nothing short of a catastrophe will destroy it. It cannot be broken, blown up, or burned. You are welcome to try.”

Harry shrugged before hurling the glass ornament across the room where it simply bounced off the wall and remained unmarked.

“That is why enchanted things are so expensive,” he said thoughtfully. “It takes an incredible amount of skill to create them, but they last.”

Madame Alarie nodded, and looked on as Harry drew his wand.

With a flick of it, he unleashed a gout of fire, though the results were not what he expected.

Harry had only intended to humour the enchantress by proving her magic could not be broken by the flames. However, the fire that burst forth was white hot, so much so that the entire room felt like a furnace.

He quickly ended his spell but felt the sheen of perspiration on his brow as he eyed his wand questioningly.

Harry did not know what had happened, but the result was leaving only a pool of liquid where the swan had been on the now partially melted stone floor.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. He felt the woman approaching from behind and watched as she knelt down to inspect what remained of her work. After a moment of what appeared to be stunned silence, she looked up at Harry in disbelief.

“You destroyed it,” she whispered.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Madame Alarie shook her head.

“Non, non, do not apologise. It was just quite unexpected. What was the spell you used?”

“Just a fire charm,” Harry answered. “I wasn’t trying anything clever.”

Madame Alarie hummed.

“Do it again,” she urged. “Carefully.”

Harry did so and found himself ending the spell quickly.

The result had been much the same as the first time, and he shook his head confusedly.

“I don’t know what is happening. It’s never been like that before.”

“I have never seen anything like it before,” Madame Alarie commented. “It is no regular fire charm, and it does not have the feeling of cursed flames. Once more, Monsieur Potter.”

Harry complied and the result was no different.

The flame remained white, and scorchingly hot; much stronger than any regular fire he had ever created before.

“Strange,” madame Alarie murmured as she eyed him. “Perhaps it has something to do with what happened during the summer.”

Harry instinctively reached for the scar below his collarbone.

“Is it possible?”

Madame Alarie frowned.

“Non, it should not be, but whatever happened has left a profound mark on your magic.”

“But the Healers said it didn’t. They said the magic left behind was minimal and would not affect me.”

“I think we can agree that it has. Have you noticed anything else different?”

“No.”

“Well, Veela are creatures of fire. I can only guess as to what has happened, but it seems that your fire spells have been impacted. Try a different iteration, Harry.”

He did so, and the vortex he created was much like the flame that had melted the swan.

“It is quite the anomaly,” Madame Alarie commented. “It may be that it fixes itself in time, but failing that, I would suggest a rather thorough examination of your magic. Perhaps the Healers missed something, or the tests were not as extensive as they needed to be.”

“I will keep a close eye on it,” Harry assured the woman, not displeased by the sudden bolster to his fire spells but certainly unsettled by it.

Before the two of them could discuss it further, however, a knock sounded at the door, and Madame Maxime entered with Fleur.

“My goodness, what caused all this?” the Headmistress asked, gesturing towards the melted stone floor.

“Monsieur Potter and I were experimenting,” Madame Alarie answered. “It will be fixed before we are finished. Is there something I can help you with, Madame Maxime?”

“It is actually Monsieur Potter that Miss Delacour wishes to speak with.”

Harry looked at the girl questioningly and noticed that she was almost nervous, and certainly quite uncomfortable.

“Here, or…?”

“Can we go for a walk?” Fleur asked.

Harry nodded and followed her from the room. The two of them made it all the way to the courtyard of the school before the girl released a deep breath and began speaking.

The words fell from her mouth quickly, and though Harry heard them, he did not know how to respond immediately.

It was the very last thing he expected, and he shook his head, confused more by this than he had been by whatever had happened to his fire spells.

“You want me to go to the Yule Ball with you?”

Fleur nodded.

He understood the logic behind doing so, for both of them, but Harry could already foresee the potential problems it could cause.

Even so, as he pondered Fleur’s own reasoning, he understood just how important this was to her, not just because it was part of the tournament, but because this was a chance to do something like this where she could relax with the person escorting her.

“Of course I will go with you,” he answered.

Fleur smiled in relief and even wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said sincerely.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled. “This could still be a disaster, but, that doesn’t matter. I want you to enjoy this.”

“You will not?”

“A free dinner and getting to dance with a beautiful girl, what’s not to like?” Harry returned with a grin.

Fleur rolled her eyes at him.

“Stupid boy,” she huffed, “but I appreciate it, Harry. Really, thank you.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek before almost skipping away, and Harry could only release a deep breath.

It truly could prove to be a problematic decision he’d just made, but he could not deny her, even if the more he pondered all the things that could happen, the more concerned he knew he should be.

Still, what was the worst that could happen?