"Tell me something, Daphne," Harry said after a few minutes, gaining her attention.
"Hmm?"
"Where can I get a quality enchanted combat attire made for me?"
"For the first task?"
"Given it's gonna be a powerful magical creature, it makes sense to not go out in my Quidditch robes or something, right?" Harry chuckled.
"Well, it depends on what kind of combat attire you're looking for," Daphne replied. "There are many enchanting businesses in magical districts who either sell premade ones or customize one for you. You just need to specify your requirements and they would tell you if it's feasible or how much it'd cost."
"What other kind are we talking about here?"
"Well, the enchanted ones I told you are what the aurors and hit-wizards use. The departments commission a standard model. Those gears can tank low-level spells easily."
"I don't think it'd be of much use in front of whatever beast they've got in store for us," Harry mused.
"You can always go for gear made of hide, but those cost a fortune," Daphne replied. At his curious look, she sighed. "You really know very little about some aspects of the wizarding world. Alright. We have magical creatures that are harvested for resources. The thick hide of some creatures is very valuable for making clothes and accessories. Think of the muggle world. They too use leather for clothes, shoes, and stuff. It's the same here."
Harry nodded.
"Now, if you're looking for something you can wear in front of a powerful magical creature, then I believe your options are quite limited," Daphne frowned. "You can go for a dragonhide combat gear, but that'd push the cost beyond 1000 galleons at the very least."
"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. "But we get dragonhide holsters and gloves for dirt cheap."
"That's made of leftover hide," Daphne replied. "Parts discarded during the normal production is used to make smaller products that you usually see in shops. High-end materials cost a lot of gold."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"My Mum's family's involved in this process. I can ask my uncle for a gear at a lowered cost if you'd want," she added, a little hesitant.
Harry gazed at her in surprise.
"What'd you get out of it?"
"We're basically partners in this, aren't we? You help me out, I help you out."
"This is you going out of your way for me though," Harry frowned. "You want something in return?"
"I might be a Slytherin but not everything I do involves business," Daphne replied curtly, eyeing him. "My plans depend on you."
"And you can't let anything happen to your asset," Harry chuckled. "Understood. I didn't know your folks were involved with animal supplies though."
"Not my folks, my mother's," Daphne reminded him. "We're involved in herbs and plantations. A bit cliché given the family name, I know. But my Mum's folks, that's the Rosier family, have a manufacturing business."
"Rosier? As in Evan Rosier?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, earning a sigh from her.
"The Black Sheep of the family. Evan was the only one who supported You-Know-Who. He was disowned from the family once it came out and he's been forgotten after his death. There's no connection between him and the family if you don't count his blood and the name," she replied.
"Two things purebloods put the most stock in. Still, it's not my place to judge. If they turn out to be good people then I don't think we'll have any issues."
Daphne nodded.
"Tell me something then. Suppose I arrange for the creature skin. How much cost reduction can I expect?"
"Well," Daphne looked thoughtful. "I don't know the full details but I guess it'd at least be halved."
"A pretty good deal then."
"You've got a dead dragon lying around?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, coaxing a chuckle out of him.
"Nah, not a dragon. Something else. Something… more snake-like."
Daphne stared at him for a few seconds before her eyes widened.
"You're shitting me!"
Smirking, Harry replied, "Send a letter if you can. I can get the harvesting done tomorrow if they're fine with it."
"You do know how rare it is though, right?" Daphne asked searchingly. "Very few people around the castle believe in that story. They consider it a rumor and one of your tall tales. It'd all but confirm that you really slew that Basilisk two years ago."
Harry shrugged.
"I couldn't care less. It's rotting down there in the Chamber. At least this way it'd be of some use."
"I can guarantee you my uncle will try to buy off as much of that carcass from you as he can."
"The venom is all I won't give away, to be honest. And the hide. I need it for the gear, after all. I'm sure we could reach an amicable agreement. They're my partner's relatives, after all," he teased. A hint of red dusted Daphne's cheeks and she glanced away.
"All right. I'll send that letter and I'll tell them to get to it as soon as they can."
"Thank you," Harry nodded. "In the meantime, I'll talk to Dumbledore about it. He'd want to know that they'd be coming to harvest the Basilisk."
"He'd be fine with it?" She asked skeptically. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment as he pondered on how Dumbledore would truly react.
"I think so," he nodded. "It isn't as if I'm doing anything wrong. I killed that bastard, so I have the right to all the spoils. That's what the law says as well."
"You're right about that, but since it happened on school grounds, Dumbledore might have a say in its disposal."
"Don't worry. You can leave Dumbledore to me. I'll handle him," Harry replied.
-Break-
Later that evening, Daphne was sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, reading through the notes she had made from the study material Harry had given her. She frowned at the sight of Malfoy sitting with Flint and his cronies near the fireplace.
The anger on Malfoy's face was unmistakable and it was apparent that they were using a silencing charm to maintain confidentiality. She could not hear what they were saying, but from mere lip reading, she could tell it was about Harry.
She kept the notebook held up in front of her face while staring at them out of the corner of her eyes. Try as she might, she could not decipher anything more than Harry's name being mentioned by both Malfoy and Flint.
It made her slightly concerned. For all his obnoxiousness, Malfoy was a little shit at heart with little regard for decency when he felt slighted. Similarly, Flint was a cruel bastard whose disgusting exploits were well known. People thought he was just an asshole because of his antics during a Quidditch game but they had no idea just how sadistic he could be.
She was certain that they were planning something nefarious involving Harry and although a part of her was concerned, she knew he was capable of holding his own, especially against that bunch of buffoons. Additionally, he had her intel to work with, which would give him the information he would want well in advance.
Daphne was pulled out of her musings when she heard a throat being cleared behind her. Turning around, she found Regina Parkinson approaching her. The older girl rested her elbows on the back of the couch she was sitting on, staring at her in amusement.
"And what does my dear benefactor wanna talk about?" Regina grinned widely. Daphne rolled her eyes in amusement.
"Harry must've truly shagged your brains rotten if you're still so chipper."
"It's more to do with those jealous glares I've been getting by every silly bint around Hogwarts. It's just so fun to see that look on their sorry faces," Regina chuckled before her lips set in a lecherous grin. "But yeah. Last evening was something else. Harry… Morgana, you told me he was a little virgin. Girl, you're so wrong. He's not little at all. He knows how to fuck. One evening with him and I'm already addicted to that magnificent co—"
"Yeah, I get the picture," Daphne cut her off, an exasperated look on her face. "You know, you'd be considered less of a slag if you stopped acting so crass."
"You think I give a fuck about what those pricks and bitches think of me?" Regina snorted haughtily. "I see their looks, and you've no idea how awesome it makes me feel to know they want a piece of this. Turning them down… oh damn… now that's the real fun. They don't call me names because of who I am, dear. Oh no. They do it because of their fragile little egos. Their pathetic jealousy. That's all there is to it. It somehow makes them feel better about themselves. Dumb fucks."
Shaking her head, Daphne replied, "Well, I'm sure you're really enjoying making these people so jealous, but there's something you need to take care of."
"Harry could talk to me directly instead of sending a message with you, you know," Regina pursed her lips before a wicked grin on her lips. "And here I thought we were really a couple."
"You can tell him what you think about it when you meet him," Daphne replied drily. "Third floor corridor, the one Dumbledore warned us about three years ago. I'd hurry if I were you. Won't want to keep your voracious lover waiting more than necessary, eh?"
"Remind me to get you a treat on the next Hogsmeade weekend, Greengrass," Regina smirked as she patted her cheek twice in quick succession. "That's the least you deserve after arranging this for me."
Daphne merely rolled her eyes and watched her walk out of the common room with an excited spring in her step.
'Harry's got her addicted real good,' she thought. Shaking her head, she glanced over to where Malfoy and the others were and saw they were still talking animatedly. She caught the eye of one of the boys who was a part of Flint's little band of thugs and cocked her head to the side. The boy blinked twice in quick succession and Daphne smirked as she refocused on her notes.
Favors and Slytherin went hand in hand, and knowledge was always coveted.
-Break-
Regina walked up the Grand Staircase, stepping off once she reached the third floor. Curfew was approaching and most of the students had already gone back to their respective common rooms, leaving the corridors rather vacant.
With a small smirk, she pushed the door to the only room and entered. Dumbledore had warned them not to step foot in this place if they didn't want to die a rather gruesome death and as much as she'd been curious, she didn't have a death wish. This was her first time visiting this part of the castle and to say that she found it spooky was putting it perfectly.
There were peculiar-looking statues with cobwebs hanging off them, a testament to how unkept this place truly was. It made her curious as to why Harry had called her here of all places.
Her steps measured, she walked toward the only other door she could see and pushed it open. She was surprised when she felt a tug deep within her as if her magic had reacted to this place, but she did not ponder much on it as the door opened.
She spotted him sitting at a desk, leaning back comfortably as he regarded her. Regina smirked and shut the door behind her.
"Quite a place you've got here," she remarked, looking around. It was nothing overboard but it stood in deep contrast to the spooky room beyond the door she had just entered through.
"Just a quiet place free from the bugs that flutter around Hogwarts," Harry replied. "Come here."
Regina smirked at the commanding tone he spoke with. She stepped toward him, but instead of taking a seat in a chair opposite him, she walked across the desk and planted herself sideways in his lap.
"Much comfy here," she whispered sexily, wiggling her plump rear against his crotch, smirking when she felt him react.
The ritual required him to relieve himself regularly and having refrained for the entire day, he could feel it stimulating him. With a sigh, he held her in his lap, one hand stroking her thigh over her skirt while the other rested on her waist.
"Now then, what'd you wanna talk about?" She asked. "Is it about that article? Then I promise you I didn't leak anything or arrange for it. I was as surprised as you when I saw it."
"What's your opinion on it?" Harry asked clearly, earning a shrug.
"I don't really care, to be honest. It's fun though, seeing those idiots glaring at me in jealousy."
"What about those in Slytherin? I can't imagine they'd be too happy about this."
"As if I give a damn," she scoffed. "Those idiots can cry and moan about it all they want. There's no way I'm letting go of this."
With a smirk, she wiggled in his lap, pushing her rear against his hard member.
"I love how you react to me, you know," she whispered, leaning closer. "Are you pent up, Harry? It looks like you are, and I guess it's understandable too. How long's it been? A day? You must be craving for more of this, hmm?"
Harry allowed her to press and rub her curves against his body, letting her stimulate him.
"You do know you can have this without everyone knowing about us, right? Or thinking we're an item?" He asked, leaning back comfortably as she began to kiss along his neck.
"I guess, but the cat's out of the bag now, right? Might as well enjoy it," she whispered hotly, nibbling on his skin.
"So you really want it, hmm? Being seen as my girlfriend by the public?"
Regina pulled back and regarded him.
"Look, I don't care too much either way, to be honest. I'm not bothered by this article only because it's fun seeing those people's faces. That's all there's to it. If you're not fine with it then you can go ahead and tell people that we're only FWBs. I won't mind," she replied, grinding hard against him. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper as she added, "As long as I can keep shagging you rotten, nothing matters."
Harry's magic was at work the entire time and he sensed no foul play from her. It seemed Daphne had indeed been correct about her.
His queries were answered, and he tightened his hold on her thigh.
"Glad we're on the same page then. I'm not looking for a girlfriend and I don't want to be seen with one either, so it's good that you don't have those ideas about us," he replied. "As for the shagging…"
Regina squealed when Harry suddenly stood up, sending the chair tumbling over as he put her down on the desk. Her eyes gleaming in excitement, she stared up at him as he pulled her arse closer to the edge. His hand slid under her skirt, pushing her panties to the side and probing her wet pussy.
"Oh, you slut… You're already wet for me. You've been looking forward to a repeat, hmm?" He whispered hotly, leaning over as he regarded her.
Regina moaned as he plunged another finger inside her and kept moving his digits back and forth, stimulating her.
"Can you blame me?" She asked rhetorically, earning a smirk.
Harry leaned back and pulled her, positioning her properly on the desk as he took off his trousers, letting his cock spring free of its confines. Regina's eyes immediately fell on his manhood and she licked her lips.
"You can clean it up later after we're done here," Harry smirked, having seen her hunger. Regina's eyes glinted and with a smirk, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
"Just get on with it already," she whispered sexily.
Harry pushed her skirt upward, baring her inflamed pussy to his hungry gaze. He grabbed his length and probed her entrance with the tip, coating it with her wetness. Without any further delay, he slid his cock forward and thrust inside her.
"Ooooh!" Regina gasped as he slammed powerfully, spearing through her tight walls and burying himself to the hilt inside her. "Not in the mood to be gentle tonight, are we?"
Harry didn't say anything. The ritual demanded release and he chased it with vehemence. Slow and passionate sex like the previous evening wasn't what he was in the mood for right now and all the pent-up arousal he had been handling since the day began wanted out.
"Ah yes… you won't find me complaining… just keep fucking me. Don't stop!"
Harry was in perfect agreement with her. He didn't want to stop. The feeling of her hot walls squeezing around his girth as he plundered her warm depths intoxicated him. Sex was the most pleasurable feeling ever and he yearned for more of it. He relished the sensation of her cunt gripping him as he plunged deeper inside of her.
The ritual might have been for his benefit and to bridge the massive gap between him and his mortal enemy but it did not mean he could not use it for pleasure now. He knew it was a curse for his hormones to be so volatile but it had given him a wondrous opportunity to seek as much pleasure as he could, and looking at Regina right now, lying flat on her back with her face contorted in pleasure as she squeezed her melons over her Hogwarts uniform and kept her legs wrapped around her, he reiterated to himself that he had no regrets.
"Morgana, yes!" Regina cried out, furiously mauling her tits. "Greengrass told me you were a fucking virgin looking to learn the art of sex but looking at how you fuck me, there's no way I'd believe that!"
"She didn't lie," Harry grunted.
"Oh! Then you're a bloody prodigy, stud! Fuck yes, give me that cock! Give it to me!"
Harry felt as if he was living a fantasy life as he rammed deep inside her. He had lusted after this girl for quite a while now but he'd never believed he'd ever have a chance to snag her. But here he was, furiously feeding his cock into her gushing snatch as she begged for his cock.
"Mmm… I can feel it… you're close, aren't you?" She moaned, staring up at him through hooded eyes. Harry was indeed very close. The release the ritual demanded was imminent and he could feel the tightening in his balls.
Regina was quick to act. She pushed him back and bent over on the desk, taking him in her mouth. Harry groaned at the feeling of her wet tongue sloshing around his prick as she furiously sucked him off, intent on coaxing his seed out of him.
He could not deny her, not when she was so enthusiastic. He felt the head of his cock expand and Regina moaned around him as he shot his load deep inside her mouth.
The girl did not relent and continued to bob her head back and forth, stroking him furiously as he kept shooting his seed inside her mouth. Breathing heavily, Harry stared at her as she pulled back once his orgasm subsided, staring up at him with her eyes clouded with lust as she made a show of gulping down his entire cum.
"Mmm… now that's a reward well earned," she preened, grinning up at him.
Harry was quick to act. The ritual's benefits weren't just for show and he grabbed her by the waist. Regina's eyes widened as she was manhandled and bent over on the desk with her arse hiked up. Excited, she let him do as he pleased and grinned at him over her shoulder when he took up position behind her.
"You're one virile bastard," she praised, moaning out loud as he slammed into her from behind.
"Can't let you go without cumming now, can I?" Harry grunted as he started to thrust inside her.
"Oh!" Regina moaned, smirking at him over her shoulder. "What a considerate gentleman you are!"
Harry simply snorted as he pushed her forward, firmly pinning her against the desk as he gave her another of the best fucks of her life.
-Break-
Harry walked out of the Gryffindor Common Room in the early hours of the Sunday morning, thankful for the lack of whispers and glares that usually followed him on his way out. He descended the tower and headed toward the Headmaster's office. It was Sunday, and the students had chosen to sleep in, rendering the castle devoid of anyone wandering its halls.
He arrived at his destination shortly and stood in front of the entrance to the Headmaster's office, waiting. Prior experience told him that Dumbledore was always aware of people who stood waiting outside his office and he was proven correct when the door clicked open.
Harry strode in and shut the door behind him. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk and he beckoned him with a nod. Harry took the seat as indicated, staring calmly at the old wizard.
"It is a surprise to see you here this early, and on a Sunday, no less," Dumbledore remarked. "I find morning tea very soothing. Here."
Harry smiled cordially and accepted the cup that floated over to him, taking a small whiff.
"Smells nice."
Dumbledore nodded as he took a sip of his tea, prompting Harry to do the same.
"I don't think you came here this early to share a cup of tea with an old man," Dumbledore continued after a few moments. "What is it?"
"I'm planning to go back to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry spoke, not seeing the need to skirt the issue.
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in slight surprise as he gazed at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, his eyes piercing.
"I did not think you needed to tell me or ask for my permission for that, Harry," the old wizard replied.
"That's not what I came here for," Harry shook his head. "I want to get the Basilisk harvested. It's rotting down there and there's no need to let it go to waste."
"A logical proposal," Dumbledore nodded. "Why the urge all of a sudden, if I may ask?"
"I know the first task will involve a powerful magical creature, sir. Basilisk hide is one of the most magically resistant and toughest materials out there for combat gear. It makes sense for me to get it commissioned if I can."
A twinkle entered Dumbledore's eyes as he gazed amusedly at the youngest champion.
"I see. The idea certainly has merit, and as the one to slay the creature, you do have the rights over it. It would be unfair of me to deny this wish of yours should you truly desire to go ahead with this."
"I am, Headmaster," Harry nodded resolutely. "I've heard the Rosiers are engaged in this business. A letter has already been sent to them and I should be getting an answer today. I shall inform you about it as soon as I receive their response."
"Ah, the Rosiers," Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I would not dissuade you from contracting them, but you should remember associating with them would bring a certain degree of scrutiny your way."
"What do you mean?"
"Evan Rosier was one of Tom's staunchest supporters. He was killed by none other than Alastor back in the war. Despite having disowned him, Finn Rosier and his family is still frowned upon by both sides."
"Idiots," Harry muttered, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Considering the recent news about yourself in the press, first with your selection in this tournament and then with your association with Miss Parkinson, you should expect even more scrutiny if you associate with the Rosiers in any manner."
"I couldn't care less about their opinions, to be honest," Harry replied flippantly. "I'd be nothing more than a slave if I let public opinion decide what I should or shouldn't do. They are free to believe whatever they want."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Also, considering I slayed that creature on Hogwarts grounds, I believe a portion of the spoils should go to the affected parties as well. The school could benefit with either Basilisk parts or funds. I'd leave it up to you to decide."
"You have already done a great service by killing the Basilisk at the cost of your own peril, Harry. There is little compensation you owe to anyone," Dumbledore smiled. "However, I believe the parties concerned would be appreciative of this gesture on your part. You may proceed with this endeavor."
"Thank you, Headmaster."
-Break-
Fleur Delacour sat at her dresser, brushing her silvery tresses as she stared at herself in the mirror. It had been a curious few days for her.
She had been chosen to represent Beauxbatons in the Triwizard Tournament, and normally it would have been a cause for celebration. Alas, a surprising occurrence marred the event, casting questions on everything the tournament stood for.
Somehow, beyond all explanation, a fourth champion had been selected by the Goblet of Fire. It was inexplicable. The name of the tournament itself specified three competitors, and for a fourth champion to emerge out of nowhere threw everything under scrutiny.
No matter how surprised she had been when she discovered who the fourth champion was, she had no shame in admitting that the development had enraged her. Ever since the tournament had been announced, she had been looking forward to competing. She needed this so much, and not just for the glory. For years, she had been looked down on by her peers for her heritage. All her accolades had been deemed unfair, simply because she was a veela and as such, she should know her place. There had been no lack of imbeciles who had tried to treat her as a docile little bint to keep her under their boots, and no matter how many times she showed them the wrong end of her wand, their daring only grew.
Fleur wanted to prove herself by earning something no one in the history of Beauxbatons had. She wanted to win the Triwizard Tournament. It was to be her opportunity to show everyone that she, a veela, deserved respect and recognition for winning a competition of such repute.
Alas, someone had decided to make this tournament his little plaything, and when she saw him disrespect the tournament in such a flippant manner, something inside her snapped. Before she knew it, she had reacted, expecting him to back down and apologize for making a mockery of her dream. In her anger, she didn't even consider the fact that he had never shown even the slightest hint that her allure was affecting him. All she remembered was feeling shocked when he had confronted her without hesitation.
That was not all she had been pondering though. Harry Potter had accused Igor Karkaroff and Severus Snape of being Death Eaters, and she had never been part of an atmosphere more tense. She had truly felt that spells would start flying about, and it might have happened if Dumbledore had not taken charge of the situation.
She might not like to admit it, but she had been slightly intimidated by Harry Potter when he showed no hint of cowardice in front of those two wizards, and when Madame Maxime had later confirmed to her with immense reluctance that Snape and Karkaroff had indeed been Death Eaters, she had been shocked at his daring.
To think that two men belonging to that faction were in charge of hundreds of students did not fill her with any comfort. Although Madame Maxime had assured her that the two men had changed and that they were firmly under control, she was not entirely mollified. Having Death Eaters so close was a recipe for disaster.
Harry Potter had proclaimed that he had not entered himself, and she had to scoff at the lie. No matter how high and mighty he might have tried to portray himself, she saw him for what he was. A phony.
Unfortunately, that dealt another blow to the image of this tournament she had formed in her mind. If it was susceptible to foul play so easily then what else could happen? And if she did indeed manage to accomplish her goal in this tournament, how valid would the masses consider it? She was all but putting her value into the result of this tournament and if its result held no legitimacy then was it truly worth it?
She closed her eyes and sighed as she put the brush away. She could not doubt her motivations, not when she was now in the tournament. She needed to be focused on her goal, which was to win the whole damn thing. She might have three adversaries now but it did not matter. All she needed was to do her best and she was confident that her best was better than whatever they could put forward.
She did not know much about either of them but she had discerned enough to realize that she had a chance to win it all.
It was Sunday, which meant most of the students would be sleeping in. The castle would thus be relatively empty, leaving her with a clear passage through. Her heritage might have enhanced her beauty but it was a double-edged sword. She craved some peace without people staring at her or whispering behind her back. Unfortunately, it was commonplace all the time and the only time she could traverse through her surroundings without anyone bothering her was when there was no one in the first place.
It was chilly when she left the carriage and Fleur quickly tightened her scarf around her neck, whispering the incantation for the warming charm under her breath. She sighed when the wind picked up, blowing her nicely brushed hair all over, and she rushed through the grounds toward where she had learned the owlery was.
She had yet to write to her parents since the letter she had sent them right after the champion selection. They had sent a letter back, congratulating her on the selection and expressing their support for her. As she had expected, they were also concerned about the selection of a fourth champion and much to her chagrin, they had the same advice Madame Maxime had when it concerned Harry Potter.
'He survived the killing curse when he was an infant. There has never been another person in the entire history who has managed such a feat. You would be remiss if you underestimate him, Fleur.'
As much as she didn't like it, she had to agree that her Papa had a point. Harry Potter was an enigma and he was shrouded in rumors which, frankly, she found outlandish at best and entirely fabricated at worst, quite possibly by him to make himself look greater than he truly was. No matter how much those rumors concerned Madame Maxime, she refused to believe that he had truly killed a freaking Basilisk of all things, and that too in his second year.
Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, Fleur quickly climbed up the steps of the owlery and entered. However, she stopped in her tracks when she discovered she was not alone.
The other occupant of the owlery turned around at the sound of the door opening, and her cerulean orbs locked with the other blonde's sapphire ones. She saw the other girl's eyes flash in recognition and she slowly walked over toward her.
"I want to send a letter to my parents. Which owl can I use?" She asked cordially, staring at the girl who was in the middle of giving some treats to an owl. She looked around and her breath hitched slightly as she caught sight of one of the most beautiful owls she had ever laid eyes on. "Merde… she's beautiful."
Daphne glanced at the veela before she looked over where she was staring.
"Yeah, you can't use that one. She's Harry's."
"Harry Potter?" Fleur asked in surprise, earning a nod from the other girl.
"You can use any of those owls," Daphne replied, gesturing toward the parliament lounging near a wide window.
Fleur nodded and walked over to one of the owls. She pulled the envelope out of her pocket and let the owl catch it in its beak. Smiling, she watched the owl take flight and slowly disappear in the opposite direction.
The sound of wings flapping made her look over and she saw an owl landing in front of the girl who smiled and took the letter from it, letting it feast on the treats she had in her hand.
Her curiosity got the better of her and Fleur approached the girl.
"So you are a friend of Harry Potter?" She asked neutrally.
Daphne glanced at the older girl with a raised eyebrow.
"Why do you ask?"
Fleur raised an eyebrow at the similarly neutral tone. It seemed this one was very sharp and well-versed in the game, and it rubbed her off the wrong way.
She stared at her with slight haughtiness and replied, "Nothing. Just that you should let your friend know there are some pretty outlandish rumors going on about him, that is if he doesn't know already. Or is it him who's behind those rumors?"
Daphne stared at the older girl, unimpressed. She had heard from several people how she was bitchy and thought too highly of herself but she had not thought much about her. It seemed there was some truth to it all.
"Why do you have your knickers in a twist if you believe they're mere rumors then?" Daphne asked with a chuckle before she let out a mock gasp. "Oh! Don't tell me the prissy French princess got scared by what she believes to be nothing more than tall tales!"
Fleur's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer but if she expected Daphne to be intimidated then she was sorely mistaken. Daphne stepped forward instead, and mere inches separated the two as they stared at each other, glaring.
"You look like a loyal one. I'll give it to you," Fleur whispered dangerously. "So tell this friend of yours that there's a veela pissed at him for making a mockery of this prestigious tournament, and to watch his back when he's competing."
"Yeah?" Daphne replied with a wicked grin. "Why don't you stop bitching so much and let your wand do the talking when the time comes? Or is that too much of an ask?"
"Oh I plan to," Fleur smirked back. "But he's young. It's only fair that he gets a warning well in advance… so, you know, he can do whatever he can to prepare himself."
"How generous of you," Daphne hissed, taking another step toward the veela. Their bodies were touching now, and as if on instinct, they glanced down, comparing one another. Being the older witch gave Fleur the advantage and she smirked at the other girl, furthering her ire. Daphne continued, "Let me tell you something, Frenchie. Harry can take care of himself and any pest he comes across. You'd be better off minding your own business in this tournament. Won't want that perfect face be disfigured by a spell gone awry, would we?"
Fleur sneered at Daphne before she scoffed and stepped back. With a haughty glance, she turned away and strode out of the owlery.
"Rumors, huh? You'll see rumors," Daphne muttered under her breath before she straightened the envelope she had been clutching firmly in her fist.
Dropping all the owl treats on the window ledge and ignoring how the two owls furiously scrambled for the largest pieces, she strode out of the owlery toward the castle.
"Fucking veela bitch."
TBC.
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