It was a rather knackered Harry that made his way to Professor Moody's classroom on the 24th of October. It had been just over three weeks since the Delegations had arrived, though Harry had not particularly interacted with any of them. Hogwarts School was now growing slightly colder, the last of the leaves having fallen to the earthen floor nearly a week prior.
The three weeks had done quite a number to dampen the excitement for the Tournament, though that was in part because most students now realized they could not enter. Those who believed themselves capable of fooling the age line Dumbledore had whipped up (chiefly Fred and George) were now examples of the fact.
Ron, as well as many of the other Gryffindors, were hit the hardest. Harry had quickly decided against telling the redhead that he never had a chance in the first place. He didn't think Ron would take that all too well.
Salazar had kept to his word, holding informational discussions on wandless magic with Harry. Although the portrait did not know it, Harry had begun secretly practicing the magic during his spare time. The general concept was fairly simple: as long as you have intent, power, and a deep connection to your magic, the limits were your imagination.
Well, not really, but that's close enough.
Harry was having a particularly hard problem with the third part. Intent was fine, as he could focus for a small period of time. His magical power was now somewhere in between that of the average fifth or sixth year, which should be more than enough for a basic piece of magic. The connection to his magic, however, required Occlumency, and Salazar had chosen not to teach Harry about that yet. He had simply told Harry that if he wished to learn the art, he would have to first truly understand his emotions, something Harry had not done just yet.
That was not to say Harry couldn't do anything wandlessly; he was still capable of performing his feats involving lightning, and he was now fairly certain he was developing the same for fire. He had tried it out many times with the torches on the walls. If he focused enough, he could make the fires both grow and shrink, something which he took great pride in. Salazar had not been nearly as impressed upon hearing the news.
The bonds of friendship between Harry, Ron, and Hermione were weakening slightly. Harry often spent too much time away from the others, Ron spent too much time complaining angrily or staring at the admittedly gorgeous Veela girl across the hall, and Hermione was severely annoyed by the actions of the other two.
Harry was pleased to note that his other relationships were going well. He had grown a bit closer to Tonks and Hestia during the past several weeks, to the point where they allowed him a decent amount of leeway. Just a few nights ago both Hestia and Tonks had spotted him sneaking back to Gryffindor Tower after spending time in the chamber. Neither had said anything, as there were other Aurors with them.
That had rather surprised Harry; Hestia was certainly the more strict out of the two; he would have expected her to rattle him out. Thankfully, she had not. That had not, however, meant that they did not speak to Harry the following day; they had spent the better part of an hour reprimanding him for his irresponsible behavior. Still, they did not tell anyone of Harry's midnight stroll.
There was also the Veela girl that Ron was particularly fond of. Harry did not know her name, having never actually talked to her, though he did have some sort of strange connection to her. Every now and then, their eyes would meet; sometimes in the Great Hall during meals, other times when they passed each other in the halls. The only people who seemed to notice were the three Gryffindor chasers, who occasionally teased Harry about it. Thankfully, they only ever did so when nobody else was around; Harry was sure Ron's reaction to the news would not be pleasant.
Although they did not speak to each other, Harry was now completely certain that the girl would be Beauxbatons champion. He had occasionally seen her practice magic by herself, just outside of the Beauxbatons Carriage; her magic was leagues above the magicals within her age group, and even most above it. He had also never seen her in the company of others, though Harry supposed that was to be expected given her apparent Veela heritage.
As for Durmstrang, Harry was also certain that his initial guess was correct. Krum could often be spotted diving into the Great Lake with his classmates, or practicing magic on the deck with them. He too had magic that was vastly superior to that of most others in his age group, although it was not quite as good as the Veela girl's.
He must have spent most of his time practicing Quidditch instead.
He had now come to a partial consensus on who the Hogwarts Champion would be. He was hovering between Cedric Diggory and Roger Davies, having ruled out Angelina long ago. While she was authoritative and popular, she was not overly talented in her magic. That was not to say that the other two were prodigies, but they definitely were Angelina's betters in that particular field.
Not that I'll ever tell Angelina.
Harry stumbled through the door to Moody's classroom and was surprised to see the Professor speaking to six members of the Auror Guard, including Tonks and Hestia. Most of the class was already seated, all looking equally confused as to what was going on.
Harry took a seat in the back corner of the classroom, earning a disapproving look from Hestia. He made gestures to Hestia, trying to ask her what was happening. Unfortunately for Harry's curiosity, she shook her head, gesturing to pay attention to Professor Moody.
"Well then!" growled Professor Moody, turning to the class, "I think I've told you that we'd be doing this! Any guesses?"
No one answered the question.
"Constant vigilance! Remember to pay attention, it could save your life one day!" Moody half shouted, "No matter, today we will be attempting to fight off the Imperius Curse."
I knew he was a nutter.
The reactions of the class were as one might expect them to be: some were horrified, some scared, and one (none other than Harry Potter) was glaring at Auror Tonks, who smiled cheekily.
Apparently Moody had received permission to perform the curse on all students fourth year and up, with Aurors to make sure that the exercise was being performed safely. Harry was fairly certain it wasn't a coincidence that Tonks and Hestia were both in his lesson; Hestia probably wanted to make sure he was safe, and Tonks likely wanted to see Harry looking like an idiot.
Harry watched as each of his classmates were called up to the front of the class, made to do the most bizarre things. Hermione was forced to teach the class, Dean to sing the Hogwarts School Song, and Ron to pretend he was a spider. Each and every student seemed incapable of fighting off the effects, although Neville seemed to fight the curse slightly.
"Potter, you're up."
Harry made his way to the front of the classroom, sending a discrete glare at Tonks as he did so. He stood there for a moment, wondering how his wandless magic would affect the curse; Salazar told him that it would have little to no effect - apparently that was not how wandless magic worked, something that disappointed Harry slightly.
"Imperio!"
For a fraction of a second, Harry felt as though nothing in the world mattered, as though he were finally at peace.
Pretend to be a snake . . . said a voice within the depths of his mind
Harry didn't particularly want to do such a thing, yet at the same time, he really did. It simply seemed like the right thing to do.
Come on now, slither around like a serpent, it'll be rather fun . . .
Harry still wasn't sure; doing so would get his clothes dirty. He had Snape after this, the last thing he needed to do was create an excuse to lose house points.
Hurry up, slither slither slither, let's not dither . . . just like a snake . . . it'll be great, I'm quite sure . . .
He decided against it. It did seem like a rather pleasant idea, but he would not be doing it; the idea simply felt too foreign, and much too strange.
The peaceful feeling of unending happiness vanished. He was back in the classroom now, standing in the front of the room. The rest of his class was staring at him in shock, as were the Aurors. Moody, however, was beaming. It was not a rather good look, considering the prominence of scars upon the ex-Auror's face.
"Would you look at that!" said Moody, turning to the class, "Potter fought it, he beat it! Come one, let's go for another round everyone. Second time might be the charm!"
Harry made his way down into the chamber during his lunch break, Hedwig on his shoulder. The snowy owl had simply not wanted to leave him. Harry was more than fine with that; he had not yet shown her the chamber, something he felt was long overdue. She was one of his greatest friends, having stayed with him during his summers at the Dursleys. He had grown even closer to her this year in particular, spending even more time with the owl.
"How Gryffindor of you," said Salazar loudly as Harry entered the study, "Bringing an owl into an underground chamber, I can not say I am surprised."
"Oh, shut up." retorted Harry, "She's really close to me, my best friend of sorts. I should have shown her this place a long time ago."
Harry spent a solid hour showing Hedwig around the chamber, much to Salazar's irritation. Hedwig seemed rather interested in the chamber, showing signs of excitement and surprise that shocked Harry.
To be fair, she's always been a smart owl.
Upon finishing the tour, Harry set Hedwig down by the fireplace. He turned to Salazar, making his way over to the other side of the room.
"Didn't you tell me that it's impossible to remove someone's free will?" he asked the portrait.
"So you do listen to my lessons, I was wondering."
"The Imperius Curse seemed to remove my free will."
Salazar paused within his frame, his eyes widening.
"You were put under the effects of the Imperius Curse?" asked the portrait.
"Yeah, remember that old nutter, Moody? Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"
Upon seeing Salazar nod, Harry continued.
"He thought it would be a great idea to put all of us under the effects of the curse, so we would know what it feels like."
"He's right." the portrait agreed, "Imagine if your first time feeling the effects of the curse was on the battlefield."
"Yeah, I know that. But back to the question."
Salazar shook his head at his descendant's lack of politeness, before gesturing for Harry to take a seat.
"What I said is true, there is no way to remove one's free will." began the portrait, "It is one of the natural laws of magic, others being that all who live must die, and that the dead can not truly be awoken."
Harry nodded at this, having head Salazar tell him that many times, particularly when Harry talked to the portrait of his parents.
"The Imperius Curse simply dominates your will, it does not eradicate it. If it did, it would not be possible to fight the curse, and after experiencing the curse you would be similar to one who has taken the Dementor's Kiss. Whatever it was that made you who you are would be gone."
"And what about other forms of mental control?" asked Harry, "You know, love potions, allures, things like that?"
"They simply create a strong obsession, or a need to impress, respectively." stated the portrait, "The first one does not affect your will whatsoever. It simply redirects your focus onto another. As for the second, that can be fought with a strong will, like the Imperius Curse. If you can fight that, you should be able to resist the others as well."
"I can." Harry informed the portrait, "I was able to fight off the allure of the Veela girl, and if what you said about Veela beauty being proportional to magical power, then I would assume I should be fine in that area. Though she wasn't exactly trying to use her allure on me, it was just her passive allure."
"If you are capable of fighting off her passive allure without feeling a thing, you should be capable of fighting off the full force of her allure." the portrait informed him, "Or do you simply feel nothing at all?"
Harry's head tilted sideways slightly.
"I'm not sure." Harry admitted, "I can certainly tell the allure is their and all, but I don't feel it affecting me. It's just there, nothing more. The Imperius Curse is different - I could feel it trying to subdue me."
Salazar quieted down, seemingly lost in thought. Harry himself moved over to the fire place. He sat by the fire for quite some time, stroking Hedwig's feathers. After a while Hedwig flew to the top of his head, where she began to straighten his hair with her beak.
"You really are close to that thing, aren't you?" asked Salazar from somewhere behind him.
"Like I said, she's my best friend." said Harry, still looking into the fireplace, "She's been by my side from the moment I met her, and she knows what it's like, living with the Dursleys. She's always been there for me, you know?"
"Turn her into a phoenix."
Harry turned around so sharply, he could have sworn he cracked half the bones in his neck.
"Sorry?" he said loudly.
"I said, turn her into a phoenix." repeated the portrait, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "'Phoenix Creatio Vitae'. Put her through the ritual, she seems more than worthy, she'll be fine. She has a strong bond with you as well, you could even attempt a soul bond between each other."
Harry sat, frozen in shock, for what must have been several minutes. When he finally spoke, it was with a weak voice.
"Could you, you know, back track a bit? I have no clue what you're talking about."
Salazar swore angrily in Parseltongue about the lack of knowledge in the magical world. When he had finished, he motioned for Harry to come closer. He did so, bringing Hedwig gently with him.
"Shall I assume you know absolutely nothing?" asked the portrait sarcastically.
"Nothing at all, yes."
Salazar sighed, before telling Harry to remove two books from the left book case, as well as a few files from the desk. Harry did as he was told, sitting calmly on the floor when he was done.
"A phoenix is an owl that has gone through an evolution ritual, making it one of the two magical creature created through the use of rituals or other such magic wielded by witches and - "
"Since when have phoenixes been owls?" Harry interrupted.
"Perhaps if you quieted yourself, you might be able to find out." suggested the portrait heatedly.
Once Harry had become completely silent, Salazar continued.
"One simply takes an owl that is impressive in terms of behavior or intelligence, and performs the evolution ritual upon them. Once this is performed, the owl will be capable of being judged. After this, at some point in the owl's life, they will go under the Phoenix Stasis. During this time, their worth will be judged. If they are deemed worthy, they become a phoenix. If not, they stay the same. Fairly simple, if you ask me."
"So, to recap, you put the owl under a ritual, then later on the owl goes unconscious, and when it wakes up it might be a phoenix?" asked Harry, his voice filled with doubt.
"More or less, yes."
"I thought phoenixes were just immortal creatures that were born naturally and all that."
"Well, you clearly thought wrong, didn't you?" asked Salazar, "Phoenixes are not born, they can not even mate, how could they possibly give birth? And they are not immortal either, for your information."
"How am I supposed to know they can't mate?" asked Harry indignantly.
"I would have assumed you learned this in your Care of Magical Creatures lessons!"
"We've spent the last month and a half taking care of hybrid mixes of manticores and fire crabs." Harry informed the portrait, "At least three dozen students have been sent to the Hospital wing from burns or bites."
"Oh, how I pity your generations." muttered Salazar.
"Forget that, what were you saying about phoenixes not being immortal?"
"Ah, yes. You see, when a phoenix is formed, they have two options: either do nothing, or bond themselves to the one who created them."
"What are the differences between the two options?" asked Harry.
"If they do nothing, they live for exactly a thousand years, unless they are repeatedly hit by incredibly potent magic, such as the Killing Curse or Fiendfyre. If they die from old age or anything not particularly potent, they are reborn as a chick in the ashes. The cycle will repeat, as I said, for a thousand years on the dot."
"So they can be killed?"
"Yes, but only if the magic is potent enough, and cast several times. Anything else and they simply become a chick. If they are still alive at the end of their thousand years, they will turn into ashes, but no chick will emerge."
"Interesting." noted Harry, running his fingers through Hedwig's feathers, "And the second option?"
"They link themselves to the wizard who created them, forming a soul bond." said Salazar, "It is also referred to as a familiar bond - a name your generation seems to misuse quite a bit, if what Riddle told me was correct. Regardless, the phoenix will only live for as long as the wizard who created them does. However, they are truly impossible to kill during that time, as not even Fiendfyre and the Killing Curse will do anything. No matter what hits them, and no matter how many times, they will turn into ashes, as far as I know. Their soul is bonded to their master's; only when their master is dead will they die. I believe the bond also allows the Phoenix and master to sense each other, and each other's emotions, but I truthfully am not sure."
"Why would a phoenix choose to limit their lifetime so much?"
"I assume you have heard the foolish belief that phoenixes are creatures of the light, of love and happiness?" said the portrait sarcastically. Harry nodded.
"That is incorrect, but the statement holds your answer within it. Part of the ritual to create the phoenix focuses on the most prominent positive emotion of the phoenix. That can be playfulness, kindness, happiness, love, or other similar things. Regardless, owls who have become phoenixes were always those who had large amounts of those emotions. Those who perform the soul bond with their masters are typically the ones of love, or similar things."
"So, they do it out of love?" asked Harry skeptically.
"Yes, believe it or not, there is some truth to your headmaster's words on love." said the portrait, "It will make you do things you would never do, as your mother once did for you. It is the most powerful type of magic there is, pure love."
Harry's eyebrows rose at that.
"You know I can't take you seriously when you talk like that."
Salazar shrugged.
"I was once like you in that sense. Then I met Delphi, my wife. My way of thinking changed. It will happen to you as well. Do not be as foolish as Riddle once was; you must understand the power of love."
"I understand it, don't worry." assured Harry, "I just . . . haven't really experienced it, so I don't really know what it's like you know?"
Salazar nodded sadly, "You will experience it in time, perhaps within the year, perhaps within ten. But you will experience it, I assure you."
They sat in silence for a few moments, before Harry continued once more.
"How many phoenixes have you ever seen?"
"Three, in person." the portrait replied, "Two of them I saw during my journeys around the world. The third was created by Helga."
"Helga Hufflepuff had a phoenix?" asked Harry.
"Indeed she did."
"Why didn't anyone else ever make a phoenix? They seem pretty incredible."
"You must take into account many different things." said Salazar, "For starters, you need to know of the ritual, which during my time was a highly guarded secret that only the greatest knew. You must also have an owl of high intelligence and purity. There also must be a strong bond between the owl and the master, and a much, much stronger bon if you want to create a soul bond. Meeting those requirements is harder than you might think."
"So did Helga create a soul bond with the phoenix she made?"
"The blasted phoenix's name was Caladrius, and no, she did not. The emotion of that particular phoenix was playfulness, believe it or not; as such, it was already unlikely that a soul bond would be formed. Besides, it is the phoenix who chooses to form a bond with their creator. She didn't get a say in the first place."
"So then why didn't any of the other founders make one?" asked Harry.
"Helga was the only one kind and loving enough to create a strong bond with an owl. Godric was too fascinated with bigger creatures like dragons and gryphons, and Rowena cared more about intellect. I had initially found phoenixes to be interesting, although that was before I had met Caladrius."
"I take it you're not his biggest fan?"
Salazar snorted, before swearing a bit in Parseltongue.
"The bloody thing was a nightmare. Any and every time it saw me, it would drop pieces of fruit on my head! Even when I was teaching, the blasted pigeon would use it's flame travel to appear in the classroom, attack me with fruits, and vanish! And when I said anything to the other three, they simply said, 'Oh Sal, he's supposed to be playful!'. I should have trained my basilisk to hunt that bloody thing! It's the reason I created wards against phoenixes in the first place."
"What happened to him then?" Harry asked, holding in his laughter.
Salazar shrugged.
"For the time I was alive he stayed with Helga. She was alive when I passed though, so I am not sure. I would expect he's living in the mountains somewhere. There's a photo of the bloody thing in the file, you can take a look."
Harry's eyebrows rose at that.
"A photo?"
"Yes, it's essentially a portrait, but it's smaller and - "
"I know what a photo is!" exclaimed Harry, "It's just I didn't know you had cameras back then."
"We had magic, what more did we need?" said Salazar sarcastically.
Harry pulled open the file, searching through it until he found a photo of a phoenix. The ancient bird rested upon the shoulder of a kind looking woman in yellow robes. Both of them were moving; the woman was even waving at the camera. But there was something familiar about that bird.
"That's Fawkes." declared Harry, his eyes looking up to meet Salazar's.
"What are you on about?"
Harry stood up, walked over to the portrait, and held out the photo.
"This phoenix is Fawkes. Do all phoenixes look different?"
"I have never seen one connected by a soul bond, so I do not know about them; it is possible that the bond changes their appearances in some way. The ones I have seen were all red and yellow-gold, and the flames are orange. But regardless, they all are, in one way or another, different."
"Then that's Fawkes." Harry stated again, "That's Dumbledore's phoenix. He's been here as long as Dumbledore has, from what I know."
The portrait froze for half a minute, most likely in shock. When he unfroze, the words that came out of his mouth were not particularly kind.
"Done yet?" asked Harry, several minutes later. As Harry had suspected, Salazar had gone on a rant on how Harry should have the 'bloody pigeon' imprisoned.
"Yes, yes, I am fine." said the portrait, panting all the while, "You don't have to worry, the pigeon will be dead soon."
"Why would Fawkes die soon?" asked Harry curiously.
"Use the intelligence that you surely must have as my heir, even if they are buried within the depths of your mind!" complained the portrait, "Caladrius was created a long time ago, 996 A.D. to be precise. He'll be dead within a few years, and Hogwarts will be safe once more."
"Yes, I'm sure Fawkes' reign of terror will end, and people will be celebrating all across the school." said Harry sarcastically, "But he's Dumbledore's phoenix, how does that work out?"
Salazar shrugged.
"How should I know? He probably just found the phoenix in the mountains or something. The bloody pigeon must have realised he worked at Hogwarts, and decided to spend his dying days here. And your headmaster probably doesn't know about phoenixes or the phoenix ritual, or he surely would have tried to make his own."
"But they aren't bonded or anything?"
"Soul bonds, or familiar bonds as they are called for this specific variety, can only occur during the Phoenix Stasis, which Caladrius experienced just short of a thousand years ago." said Salazar in a bored voice, "In other words, no."
"So Fawkes can leave whenever he wants?"
"Even if the pigeon shared a soul bond with your headmaster, he could still leave whenever he wanted. The soul bond simply ties the life of the phoenix to the life of the master. The reason as to why phoenixes that are soul bonded never leave their masters is because of love. The emotion for those phoenixes is love, and it is typically directed towards their masters. As such, they will refuse to leave their masters."
"And Fawkes - "
" - Caladrius, although pigeon is also acceptable."
"Yes, him. He's playful, which is just his personality. So he could leave whenever he wanted."
"The true explanation is much more complex, but for the sake of both of our sanity and time, sure." replied the portrait.
"I didn't even know playfulness was an emotion."
"Neither did I, but apparently it is. I originally theorized that Caladrius' emotion used in the ritual was 'demonic', or something similar. Helga didn't like that much."
"Can't say I'm surprised." said Harry. He moved his eyes back down to Hedwig, who was snuggling into his chest, fast asleep.
"How do I know that she would want to become a phoenix?" Harry asked.
"It's evolution, it's impossible to not want it." replied the portrait.
Harry nodded, putting Hedwig gently down beside him, before standing up and moving to the desk, bringing the books and file with him. He put the file back into the desk, before sitting down, turning the chair to face Salazar.
"I'm fine with doing the ritual for Hedwig, as long as it isn't painful and there's no risk." he said to the portrait.
"There are neither of the two, do not worry. Simply read the two books you have before you; they will cover everything and anything you need to know for the ritual. Order the ingredients, we can do it in a week's time, that should be more than enough time for you to understand it. I will be here, of course, assisting you. You can even ask your owl if she wants to do it, she should be smart enough to figure out what you are saying"
"I will, this seems particularly interesting." said Harry, placing the two books into his book bag. He gently woke up Hedwig, moving her to his shoulder. Harry made his way out of the study, beginning the journey to the Transfiguration Classroom.
"Don't forget to change the book covers!" yelled Salazar from the study, "If you get my books on phoenix rituals confiscated, I will lock you out of the chamber!"
Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was joking.
Fleur Delacour made her way down one of the many hallways of the castle, exploring the famed institution. She was currently having a hard time finding the appeal of the school; it was dark, gloomy, and dull, and though she had not interacted much with the students, she already knew that they were of an equal variety. Fleur was grateful that there was nobody in the hallway she was exploring. She was currently under a disillusionment charm, and it would be rather hard to explain if someone seemingly crashed into thin air.
Her reason as to why she had rendered herself invisible was not nearly as hard to explain, though most would care little for her explanation. Throughout her entire life, she had always been special, even for a witch. She was a Veela, and incredibly powerful one at that. Her magic (both normal and her Veela abilities) was far stronger than others her age, something she was immensely proud of.
Her beauty was greater than anyone she had ever seen. She was even part of the main line of the Delacour family, one of the most influential and powerful wizarding lines in all of France. And if that was somehow not enough, her father was Jean Delacour, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the French Ministry.
Unfortunately, the combination of luck had not been particularly helpful to Fleur, and was certainly not as pleasant as one might expect it to be. She had been ostracized for as long as she could remember, many people teasing her out of amusement when she was younger, and then due to jealousy. Boys could not talk to her properly for longer than 15 seconds, and girls could not go half as long without showing some sign of envy. She had never even had so much as a friend, if you excluded her little sister, something she often did.
Before she had been ostracized for being perfect, she had been ostracized for the opposite. Veela tended to go through puberty in their mid teenage years, resulting in many people poking fun at Fleur's youth for many, many years.
She had been incredibly lucky that her father was who he was, as it deterred many of her classmates from treating her poorly, at least when in the presence of others. It was unlikely that the students of Hogwarts knew anything about her father, especially considering the way many of them stared at her. It was a clear sign that a majority of the upcoming year was likely to be spent in the Beauxbatons Carriage, more specifically her room. It was fine with Fleur; she had certainly expected it.
If she did choose to venture through Hogwarts, she would likely have to do so under her disillusionment charm, especially considering she had very few of the benefits she had back in France. Her time in Beauxbatons had gone far better than it should have, though that was in part due to Madame Maxime. She too was familiar with the prejudices of the wizarding world (as she was undoubtedly a half-giant), and therefore allowed Fleur a bit of leeway.
Perhaps she just felt sympathetic for Fleur, especially with her having to deal with the petty rumours spread by her classmates.
As if those imbeciles knew a thing about Veela.
It was rather irritating for Fleur to hear so many people speak falsities on Veela behind her back. There was certainly not such a thing as a part Veela, you were either a Veela or you weren't one. In fact, a Veela was merely a witch with a hereditary ability, allowing them their immense beauty, allure, and more. Yet they were still considered to be 'creatures', regardless of the fact that if anyone chose to check with Gringotts (or even the many records held within the equally large amount of Ministries) they would undoubtedly realise the truth. Not that anyone would ever do such a thing, of course.
It was one of the reasons she was so dearly anticipated a chance to compete for the Triwizard Tournament. The tournament was mainly under the control of the British Ministry, which Fleur knew to be extremely bigoted. It would be extremely satisfying to see the faces of the staunch British Purebloods upon hearing that a Veela had won.
Fleur also looked forward to proving her superiority to the other Beauxbatons students. The last several years at Beauxbatons had largely consisted of being belittled by her peers. Their words had quickly gone from hurting her to inspiring her to do better, and it was not time to display the results of her hard work. She had spent the majority of her time in Beauxbatons increasing her already powerful magic, something that had begun to show many, many years prior.
It was also due to the antagonizing of her peers that Fleur was so closed off. It was exceptionally rare for Fleur to meet someone who did not despise her in any way. While it had upset her a great deal when she was younger, it had eventually developed the cold persona that Fleur almost always wore.
It was a shame Fleur had to constantly wear such a thing; in reality, Fleur was rather feisty, protective, caring and kind, not that most knew that. She only ever took the mask off around her family, and when she was alone within the privacy of her strongly-warded room within Beauxbatons.
That was another thing that irritated Fleur: Almost everybody in Beauxbatons knew that she spent most of her free time in her room, and yet many female students had still chosen to spread rumours about her, even though everyone knew they were false. Claims that she would use her allure to steal boyfriends, or perhaps to seduce students, were commonly heard within the confines of the Beauxbatons Chateaux. It didn't seem to matter to anyone that Fleur could not recall so much as touching anyone not in her family.
As if those rumours matter. I am the best; I always have been. The rumours spread by those jealous of me will not matter in the end.
It was true, after all. When she was selected as the Beauxbatons Champion, she would represent the school in front of the entire world. Millions would see each task live, and many more would read about it in the newspapers. After that, a happy future would be practically guaranteed, another reason as to why she was more than willing to compete.
It was certainly more than her peers would be able to say. They had chosen to waste away the last six years of their lives, spending their time seeking pleasure and comfort from people who meant nothing to them. Their lives would change drastically within the next two years, and unlike Fleur's, it would not be for the better.
Fleur made her way down to the second floor, before pausing upon hearing a voice in what appeared to be an empty hallway.
" - and that grumpy old portrait will be helping too, to make sure everything goes smoothly. But either way, the choice is entirely yours. We'll do it in a week or so, okay?" said a male voice.
Fleur's eyes narrowed significantly. It wasn't because there was a boy nearby; she was under the disillusionment charm, she would not be seen. It was the fact that the boy's voice seemed to be coming from the bathroom about five metres away from her, which happened to be a girl's lavatory.
The door of the second floor bathroom swung wide open, revealing the boy in question. He was relatively attractive in appearance, though he had still clearly not finished his growth; his cheekbones were just as high as hers, his skin tone fairly similar. The boy's hair was jet black in colour, his eyes a unique shade of emerald. He was wearing Gryffindor house robes, a beautiful snowy white owl perched upon his right shoulder.
Harry Potter.
Fleur, of course, knew exactly who he was. His legend was told all across the globe, she herself had heard it often as a young girl. He was, without a doubt, within the top few most well-known wizards alive, so the fact that she knew of him wasn't all too surprising. Besides, her younger sister, Gabrielle, had been particularly infatuated with the legend of Harry Potter. The young girl demanded to hear his story before more often than any other.
Fleur was not entirely sure what to make of him. She had never truly believed in the tales of Harry Potter, not in the way her sister had; they had always seemed to far-fetched to be true. She did no a small bit about the boy, but nothing more. The Delacours had a family friend that went to Hogwarts, who had told them about him the previous summer (due to Gabrielle's pleading). She had informed Gabrielle (and Fleur, who sat by Gabrielle's side) that he was mostly normal, in both looks and magical prowess. He was apparently famous in the school for rule breaking, and that there hadn't yet been a single school year that had ended without some sort of strange adventure, with a lengthy trip in the hospital wing following it.
Besides that, Fleur was rather lacking when it came to her information on the Boy-Who-Lived. The fact that the words of the Hogwarts girl did not seem particularly accurate made that even worse; Fleur was not one to care so much about the actions of others, but no one 'normal' could simply ignore her allure. That was something rarely seen by a normal Veela. Fleur was a Veela whose magical power was known by other Veela to be rather high; for someone to simply shrug of her allure in such a way was unfathomable.
Fleur had immediately noticed his resistance to her allure during the opening feast, although she had not known who he was at the time, having not yet seen his scar.
She was therefore very surprised to hear the Durmstrang headmaster and the Hogwarts Defense Professor talking about who he was.
After the feast she had seen him a few times in the Great Hall or the school Hallways, their eyes occasionally meeting. The last time she had seen him, he was being reprimanded by two of the Hogwarts Auror Guard; the two of them had apparently seen him sneaking around during the night, but had not said anything at the time so as to not get him in trouble. Personally, Fleur felt that was against the entire point of having an Auror guard, though it was fairly obvious that those two Aurors favoured the boy.
Despite the inconsistencies within the Hogwarts student's story, however, Fleur was certainly capable of believing that Harry Potter was indeed a trouble maker.
How could I not believe it. I literally just saw him walk out of a girl's restroom.
As Harry Potter walked away, he froze slightly, turning to look in the direction where she currently stood, both invisible and unmoving. He looked exactly at where she was standing, his eyes slowly searching the area in suspicion. The boy then simply shrugged, before turning back around and walking off.
Still under her disillusionment charm, Fleur made her way over to the bathroom, checking to see who the boy had been talking to. There was something about the phrase, " - We'll do it in a week - " that made Fleur slightly suspicious, almost to the point of not even wanting to open the door.
When she did, however, she was greeted by what appeared to be any other bathroom. The floor had a bit of water across its surface. It was just as gloomy and dark as the rest of the school, though it was larger than the average bathroom in Beauxbatons. It was also very obviously empty.
Merde.
Fleur made her way out of the bathroom, heading off in the direction of the Beauxbatons Carriage. It was not a good idea to wander through an unknown area on her own, especially for a reason such as simple curiosity. She had a room to herself in the carriage, something she was currently very interested in taking advantage of. She needed to spend as much time as she could preparing for the upcoming tournament.
She quickly decided that whatever the boy did was not of importance. She had other things to worry about than a famous teenage celebrity fooling around in a girl's bathroom, even if the boy was seemingly immune to her allure. The selection of the Champions was rapidly approaching, and for the first time in all of wizarding history, would be broadcasted throughout the world. Although she doubted she would have to worry about being chosen champion, she knew better than to deal in absolutes.
Besides, she had promised a letter to Gabrielle. Her little sister had never been to any sort of magical school, and was very excited to hear about arguably the most well known one of all. Fleur might have not yet been in Britain for too long, but she already missed her beloved sister.