The days that followed the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament were among the worst Harry had ever lived.
Fleur had sat by Harry's side within the hospital wing, refusing to leave him while he remained unconscious. It had attracted a bit of attention from some of the others in the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey had allowed Fleur to stay.
Dumbledore had already begun to speak out on Riddle's return, something that the majority of the wizarding world had, unsurprisingly, chosen to ignore. There were, however, people who refused to merely remain idle; Fleur had managed to overhear a few words of the headmaster's many conversations that night, specifically his conversations with many who fought in the previous war. He was apparently trying to bring back the Order of the Phoenix, something which Harry knew about thanks to his conversation with Sirius many moons ago.
Fudge, as expected, had immediately denied the return of Lord Voldemort. According to Fleur, he had stormed out of the hospital wing, muttering darkly about deranged teenage boys and meddling old buffoons.
It had taken no little restraint from Fleur to let the man leave in peace after that comment.
Lead by Fudge, the ministry had been quick to take control of the scene. The morning following the third task, the Ministry of Magic released an official statement on Cedric Diggory's death. According to Fudge, Cedric had died due to injuries dealt to him by Barty Crouch, who had been under the Imperius Curse.
Crouch had not received any punishment, however. He had vanished just after the third task, likely just after the Imperius Curse had ended. That tidbit made sense to Harry; if he had not run the ministry would no doubt use him as a scapegoat.
They still are using him as a scapegoat. They just aren't completely dragging his name through the mud.
Speaking of scapegoats, the Daily Prophet released an article on the third task claiming that Harry had gone mad. Compared to the article they published about Dumbledore, however, Harry's was quite flattering. Had Harry not known better, he would have sworn it had been Rita Skeeter who had written the articles.
He and Fleur had already devised plans to contact the reporter. They doubted they would truly use her - they both cared very little on public opinion, especially considering that they depended almost solely on each other - but they were not foolish enough to ignore the potential benefits that Rita could provide. Still, it would be rather difficult for Rita to publish an article in the Daily Prophet that was of actual use to them, for the paper simply would not print it. For her to be of use, they would likely have to find another newspaper for her to write for.
The first thing Harry had done once he had awoken (and after Fleur had been assured that he was alright) was inform the girl of everything that had happened. It had been around two in the morning - everyone else had long since vacated the hospital wing, even Madam Pomfrey. Fleur had only been allowed to stay out of sheer stubbornness, for she had refused to do anything else.
Fleur had listened to every word he had said, tears growing in her eyes all the while. Once he had finished several hours later, she simply climbed into the hospital bed, holding him as he drifted off to sleep.
The two of them finally returned to the Chamber of Secrets the evening after the third task. They had filled Salazar in on the many events that had happened, the portrait listening silently all the while. It took several hours to explain everything; it was long past curfew when they had finished.
The portrait had eventually congratulated Harry on keeping his blood from Riddle, though it was half hearted at best. What with Cedric's death and the sight of his mother once more, the whole affair no longer felt like much of a victory.
Harry had recently spoken to Cedric's parents. He told them the truth about what had caused Cedric's death, voicing how he himself was partially responsible. He had held his head down during the entire conversation, overcome with shame, shame born from both his part in the boy's death and the fact that his mind was simply on something else.
"Harry, mama loves you . . ."
The Diggory's, however, were grateful, and even thanked him for bringing back Cedric's body.
"You did all you could." Mrs. Diggory had said kindly, her face covered in tears, "That is all one can ask for, and all that I would have asked for. Cedric spoke highly of you - do not let yourself go, my boy."
Harry had quickly left the room at that point, leaving the thousand galleon prize bag (that Fudge had unwillingly handed him the night before) on the table beside the two grieving parents. Harry did not need the money, nor did he want it.
It was not as though this was the first death on his hands, even if he hadn't been the one to actually kill Diggory. He had killed Quirrell at the ripe age of eleven, he had killed a number of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. But this was different; this was someone kind and fair, someone who truly did not deserve to die so soon.
Harry had spoken to both Salazar and Fleur on the matter. The former had nodded sagely, telling him that his feelings were to be expected. He had told Harry to reread 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts', something which Harry did without questioning. He had ripped an excerpt of the tome out from the book; it was within his pocket at this very moment.
'When someone kills another, their perspective creates a distortion. For most, the distortion creates guilt. The murder feels bad about their actions. In such cases, the effects are felt by the mind of the killer, rather than their actual soul.'
Harry knew the words of the excerpt to be true, and knew it would only be logical to ignore the guilt that he felt. Yet try as he might, Harry found himself incapable of doing so. He was making progress; he did not feel nearly as bad about it as he had a few days ago, but he would still need a few weeks before he would truly be back to normal.
It was not just Cedric that remained on his mind; in fact, the boy only occupied a fraction of Harry's mind at most. The words of his mother, however, replayed themselves constantly within his head, echoing over and over again.
You're so loved. So loved.
"Harry?"
Harry glanced at Fleur. She was watching him with concern evident in her eyes, concern that had been present ever since his duel with Voldemort.
They sat upon the carpeted floors of Salazar's study, once more reflecting upon the events of the third task. It was unpleasant to relieve - Harry could certainly testify to that - but it was something that had to be done; the consequences of doing otherwise would be less than enjoyable.
"Sorry." Harry muttered, "I just . . . remembered something."
Fleur nodded understandingly, moving to sit by Harry's side. They sat in silence for a while, Fleur gently running her hands through Harry's hair.
"She was so real." whispered Harry, "They all were. I'm not upset, exactly - I've always known that they were gone - but . . . I don't understand."
"Priori Incantatem." muttered Salazar, "The Reverse Spell Effect."
Harry and Fleur both turned to face the portrait. Salazar seemed rather tired as of late; even now he spoke slowly, his voice soft and lethargic. That did not, however, dampen the impact his words had.
"When two brother wands are made to duel, they will resist with everything they have." explained Salazar, "Instead of working properly, one wand will be forced to create echoes of its previous spells."
"Just like the sphinx said." remembered Harry, "Echoes."
Salazar nodded slowly, watching Harry all the while. The boy stared at the floor before sighing heavily, pushing himself off the ground.
"She was right, the sphinx." declared Harry softly, "And Dumbledore, I suppose. They're gone, and there's nothing I can do about it - 'it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live', and all that. I'm going to live. They won't have died in vain."
Salazar nodded once more.
"I'm going to practice over the summer." said Harry, "Voldemort was toying with me in the graveyard, I wouldn't have escaped if it hadn't been for my wandless magic. That has to change."
"It will." agreed Salazar, "As long as you use wandless magic, your ministry can not track you. You could also rent a room in Diagon Alley - there should be too much magic in the air for any sort of tracking charm to remain effective for long."
"You could come to the chateaux as well." supplied Fleur gently, "Maman and papa has ministry guests over very often - female, of course - and I often vanish during those times. They would not notice if I was gone for quite some time."
"I'll have to stay at the Dursleys then." said Harry, "That way I'll be able to visit you, and so I can leave whenever I need to. But the blood wards should be gone now . . . do you think Riddle might try something?"
"It is unlikely, I think." said Fleur, her expression thoughtful, "Fudge is doing the work for him, the best thing for him to do is nothing."
Harry nodded slowly, turning to face Salazar.
"Another thing." began Harry, "When I talked to Voldemort in the graveyard, he seemed so . . . normal. Well, not really normal, I suppose - but he didn't seem mad or anything. I would have thought the horcruxes would affect him more than that."
"The horcruxes took his humanity from him, not his intellect." said Salazar, "It is his empathy, his kindness and his love that have been marred. His mind, however, remains just as brilliant as ever."
Harry nodded once more. He turned around, observing the study with unfocused eyes. His emerald orbs eventually landed upon a small board that rested upon a small table in the coroner of the room.
The chessboard was obscured slightly by the shadows cast upon it, thanks to the large bookshelves that occupied the chamber. The lack of light, though evident, was not prominent enough to detract from the shine of a particular piece upon the board, one that had not been there before.
The king piece.
"It happened two nights ago." said Salazar tiredly, his eyes upon the chessboard as well, "When you were in the maze, unless I am mistaken."
"It's done." breathed Harry in relief, "My king piece - it's formed. I've understood my heart's desire."
But what is it?
Excited though he was, Harry couldn't come up with a suitable answer. What could it have been? He'd realized it during the maze apparently, but his trek through the labyrinth largely consisted of rather unpleasant encounters - certainly not what Harry would call his heart's desire.
"You do not sound like you have discovered anything." noted Fleur, her eyebrows raised.
Harry turned to face her, pausing as his eyes landed upon her flawless features. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, her sapphire eyes staring into his with poorly concealed amusement. Her arms were crossed, an expectant expression upon her face.
"You." whispered Harry somewhat sheepishly, a soft grin upon his face, "You're my heart's desire."
Fleur smiled happily, gently pressing her lips against his own. Her lips were sweet, both soft and loving. They remained there for a few seconds, eventually pulling away ever so slightly. Fleur's forehead rested gently upon his own, her loving eyes mere centimetres from his.
"And you are mine." she whispered back, her fingers wrapped tightly around his palm.
Harry slowly made his way towards the headmaster's office, his features hidden by a Disillusionment Charm Fleur had cast upon him. He walked through the halls silently, passing by many students on the way. Each and everyone of them now walked around the school in groups, all whispering to one another in low voices.
It's like the second year all over again.
At least this time the students could not see him; Harry was not at all in the mood to watch first years fearfully retreat in the opposite direction every time they crossed his path. It might amuse him at another time, but that would be when Fleur was with him, and not when he was on his way to meet Dumbledore.
The man was one of two who threatened Harry's chances of achieving his dreams - something which he had now realized heavily involved Fleur. A life with her, no doubt. Perhaps by the shore somewhere, as they both liked. In a cottage, maybe - certainly nothing to fancy.
Maybe even a child.
To most, the deepest desires of his heart appeared to be rather lackluster. He did not wish for fame, nor glory, nor wealth. He would not be surprised if he seldom used the money within the Potter and Black accounts (as the Slytherin one had long been devoid of liquid assets).
Still, Harry could not come up with something more appealing to him. He had a feeling that Fleur desired something similar.
And we'll achieve it together, or not at all.
"Ah, Mr. Potter." said Professor McGonagall crisply as Harry allowed the Disillusionment Charm to fade away.
The woman was, as usual, adorned in emerald green robes. She was standing directly in front of Harry, mere feet from the entrance to the headmaster's office.
She watched as Harry briskly approached her, her eyes slightly softer than usual.
"Please take the time to visit Madam Pomfrey before boarding the train tomorrow." she said once Harry had stopped, "If only to dispel our worry."
Harry nodded, waiting patiently as Professor McGonagall turned to face the stone gargoyle.
"Cockroach Cluster!" she intoned.
The gargoyle leapt aside, allowing Harry entrance to the room. Harry continued onward, hastily saying goodbye to McGonagall. He eventually reached the second door, knocking it gently with his right hand.
"Come in, Harry."
Harry did as instructed. The office was just as it had been during Harry's last visit - the only difference being that this time, the many portraits within it were wide awake. They each watched Harry with no small amount of curiosity and fascination (and a few with narrowed eyes).
"Hello Fawkes." Harry greeted.
The bird seemed to be in the middle of its current life - neither too old nor too young - though it still seemed to be quite sickly. It was fairly obvious that his final burning day was rapidly approaching.
"He has been like that for quite some time." said Dumbledore sadly, "Since the events of your second year, unless I am mistaken."
Harry nodded, taking a seat opposite the old headmaster. He did not bother to avert his eyes; he highly doubted that Dumbledore would use Legilimency on him. Even if he did, Harry's Occlumency was now sufficient enough that he could exit the room before the headmaster could truly penetrate his mind.
"We have much to discuss." said Dumbledore, wiping his half-moon spectacles before repositioning them upon his nose, "Firstly, I must inform you that when the next term begins, you will have to return to Gryffindor Tower."
Harry nodded, having already known that for quite some time.
"Secondly," continued Dumbledore, "I must ask that you return to Privet Drive, for your safety. I know that you do not - "
"It's fine." said Harry, "I understand, I'll go."
Dumbledore nodded gratefully.
"I have asked Professor Moody to speak to your relatives about your treatment." Dumbledore said, "In hindsight, he was probably not the best choice for such a conversation. But what is done is done, and that is all that can and should be said."
The headmaster chuckled softly, grabbing a Lemon Drop from the bowl that sat upon his desk. He carefully unwrapped the delectable sweet, popping it happily into his mouth.
"Now, I must inform you that there will be a number of Aurors stationed around your house." continued the headmaster, "They will be there to ensure your safety. It is unlikely that Voldemort will seek you in such a way, but not impossible."
Harry's cheeks tightened. He did not at all like that he was being watched. While it would not be a problem with his practice of wandless magic (as he could easily practice within his room without being disturbed), it would make visiting Fleur slightly more difficult.
"Will they be there all the time?" asked Harry, keeping his voice as carefree as possible. If Dumbledore noticed his actions, he did not voice it.
"No, they will merely check in on you every now and then." said Dumbledore, "Your privacy will remain your own."
He's telling the truth.
Harry tilted his head slightly. If he wanted, Dumbledore could probably lie to Harry without him noticing, but Harry was certain that the headmaster was being truthful. It was for that reason that Harry nodded, dropping any argument he might have had.
"All I have left is a warning, as well as a bit of advice." Dumbledore informed him, "Let us begin with the former. The ministry, as you have likely seen, are not either of our biggest supporters at the moment."
Harry nodded slowly.
"They wish to vilify you, and will latch onto any excuse you provide them with." warned Dumbledore, "I merely ask that you be careful. Fudge in particular is rather unhappy at the moment."
"I'll be careful." assured Harry.
"I know, my boy, I know." said Dumbledore gently, "Before I let you depart for the End of Year Feast, I wish to impart a bit of advice upon you. Whether you take it or not is a choice that is entirely your own."
Harry watched Dumbledore curiously, waiting for the man to continue.
"You have been through a lot over the past few years, something that I regretfully have a hand in." began Dumbledore, "I ask that you let it out, if only to soothe your mind."
"It does not have to be me." Dumbledore continued as Harry opened his mouth, "It can be anyone. I myself am quite fond of speaking to Fawkes when troubled, after all - or perhaps even an inanimate object. It does not truly matter. But you must let it out Harry. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."
"I understand, Professor." said Harry quietly.
He was being truthful; having Fleur by his side had sped up his recovery by no little amount. She sat by his side for hours on end, listening to each and every word that exited his mouth. It was more beneficial than it sounded; Harry did not know where he would be without her.
"Then you may go." said Dumbledore kindly, "Take care, Harry."
Harry nodded once more, exiting the office in silence.
Harry quietly made his way into the Great Hall, doing his best not to attract attention to himself. He seemed to be doing rather well, at least so far; it appeared as though his hood, combined with a powerful Notice-Me-Not Charm (courtesy of one Fleur Delacour) was quite effective.
Only two sets of eyes graced Harry's form as he made his way to the Gryffindor Table with a number of his peers. The first belonged to Dumbledore, something that did not surprise Harry. It seemed as though the headmaster had beaten him to the Great Hall (which made sense, considering that Harry had stopped at the Chamber of Secrets while on the way).
The second set belonged to Fleur. She watched him with the smallest hint of affection as he sat down with the other fourth years before quickly diverting her eyes. She and Harry had already done a rather poor job of keeping their connection a secret; it would be foolish to attract any more attention than they already had.
Harry quietly observed the hall. The banners around the hall were black and yellow, regardless of the fact that Slytherin had won the house cup. It was an obvious nod towards Cedric.
Harry found himself rather appreciative of the gesture. It provided a sense of closure, something which he realized he required. He would be able to pay his respects to the boy one last time, just as he should.
"Before we begin, I have a few words I would like to say." said Dumbledore, standing up from his seat at the center of the staff table.
The students (both normal and from the delegations) quieted at once, each paying turning to face the headmaster. It was truly silent within the hall, unlike the many other times Dumbledore had requested their attention. Tonight was different; there was a melancholy sadness within the air, a sort of harsh seriousness present as well.
"Many nights ago, Hogwarts lost a fine young man, one who should be sitting here, amongst his peers, celebrating the end of another school year. I ask that you all raise your glasses to Cedric Diggory, a kind soul that departed from this world long before he should have."
Dumbledore raised his goblet into the air, an action replicated by everyone within the hall.
"To Cedric Diggory."
"To Cedric Diggory." repeated the hundreds of students.
"Cedric's death marks the beginning of dark times, whether one chooses to realize it or not." continued Dumbledore, "He was not murdered by Bartemius Crouch, as the ministry would have you believe. Mr. Crouch did not place Cedric under the Imperius Curse, nor did he harm the boy in any way."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.
"Cedric Diggory was murdered at the hands of Lord Voldemort."
The eyes of nearly everyone within the hall widened, panic forming upon a number of faces. The older students (as well as the countless adults) in particular seemed rather scared; they remembered the days when Voldemort was active, they no doubt remembered the sheer power and destruction that Riddle had commanded.
"There are many who think I should not be telling you this." said Dumbledore, "Those who are too afraid to do what is right, or those who are too blinded to see what stands before them. Many of you will not believe me, I am sure. But I must warn you to be cautious. Your lives are precious, and once taken, they can not be restored.
"There is, of course, another person who is strongly connected to the events of the second task. I am speaking of Harry Potter."
Hundreds of heads turned, each trying and failing to find Harry. Fleur's Notice-Me-Not Charm was rather powerful. Only Dumbledore, Flitwick, Snape, and Fleur herself seemed to have spotted Harry.
"Harry fought and escaped Lord Voldemort." revealed Dumbledore, "He retrieved Cedric's body, at great personal risk."
Dumbledore raised his goblet once more.
"To Harry Potter."
"To Harry Potter." repeated the majority of the students and delegations, as well as all of the staff.
Even a few Slytherins raised their glasses, though they were very small in number. Daphne Greengrass in particular was raising her goblet in one hand, the other hand being used to hold up her sister's hand. Astoria Greengrass (if Harry remembered correctly) seemed rather panicked, trying and failing to escape her sister's seemingly powerful grip.
Hermione (who sat a few feet from Harry, even if she didn't realize it) tearfully held up her glass as well. Her concerned gaze swept over the Gryffindor table, passing Harry each time. Her eyes were pained, her expression one of care and longing.
She's improved.
Not that it mattered. Harry had a long road ahead of him, one that Hermione would not be a part of. He already had a partner, and she was all he required. It would be them and them alone, and that was final.
"I am under no delusion that you will believe everything I have said." said Dumbledore, "But that shall not stop me from saying it. Voldemort has returned. The ministry is ignoring it, allowing for the Dark Lord to regain his strength.
"In time, Voldemort will reveal himself. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a year from now - I can not say." continued Dumbledore, "But if you delude yourself into believing everything is as it should be then we have already lost. As I once told a young student of mine, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
"Remember what has happened, remember what is to come. It is time to let old rivalries go, and to begin friendships we once never considered. Remember that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
"So, this is goodbye?"
Harry and Fleur stood by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by wards which Fleur had cast. The leaves that littered the floor were sparse, the earthen soil fresh and fair. It was a pleasant day, the last day of June.
It was also the last day of term, something which marred the pleasant summer weather. Not that Harry cared about the weather, anyway; he always liked when the skies were white with clouds and when a light rain fell upon the earth - it was something he and Fleur had in common.
No, what Harry cared about was Fleur. The Beauxbatons Carriage was all ready for departure. The students had each packed their belongings, the entirety of them loitering around, chatting happily amongst one another.
The Durmstrang students were less nonchalant. Most of them were currently working around the boat, preparing their ship for the long journey ahead of them. They all seemed to know what they were doing, judging from the way they completed their tasks with finesse.
I'm guessing Karkaroff wasn't much of a help.
Victor Krum was one of the few Durmstrang students not on the boat. He was talking to Hermione near the Quidditch pitch, cloaked in Notice-Me-Not Charms (although they were not nearly on par with Fleur's).
Still, they were superb. Had it not been for Fleur (who Harry confessed was his better when it came to charms and wards), Harry might have had a much harder time finding them. Fleur had spotted them right away, quietly pointing them out to Harry.
The Hogwarts students were all gathered within the courtyard, waiting impatiently for the clock to strike ten (the time when Professor McGonagall would finally allow them to make their way over to Hogsmeade Station).
They were all uncharacteristically quiet, even the Weasley twins. It was clear that the weight of Dumbledore's words the previous night had not lessened.
"I will set you on fire." warned Fleur, "This is not goodbye, nor will there ever be."
"Right." said Harry, an amused smile growing upon his face, "Then this is, what, goodbye for the next twenty-four hours?"
"Fourteen." Fleur corrected, "Possibly less, depending on whether or not the Abraxan horses have been fed."
"And when you get home?"
"I kidnap you." said Fleur simply, "Covertly, of course - I will not be sent to Azkaban for kidnapping Harry Potter - "
" - Fudge would probably give you a reward for that, actually - "
" - but I will be kidnapping you." finished Fleur with certainty.
"And will Gabrielle be helping?"
"Absolutely not." replied Fleur, "The first thing she would do is tell maman and papa. She is not the best at keeping secrets."
"You'll have to tell them eventually." said Harry slowly.
"And I will. But not now. We have more important things to worry about."
"Like?"
"Your wand, cretin." said Fleur with a pointed gaze.
"Right." said Harry sheepishly, "We can go to Ollivander's during the summer, he's the best wandmaker I know."
"He is the premier wandmaker." said Fleur, nodding her head in agreement, "We shall have to pay him a visit."
The two of them slowly made their way over to the Beauxbatons Carriage. Fleur quickly removed the wards, applying Notice-Me-Not Charms to the both of them. The Beauxbatons students were now boarding the carriage, no doubt preparing to leave.
Fleur slowly turned around, gently pressing her lips to his own. She nimbly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Harry did not know how long they had remained like that, nor did he truly care.
"I love you." said Fleur, pulling back gently.
"I love you too." said Harry earnestly.
Harry watched as Fleur boarded the carriage, ignoring the wrenching pain he felt in his gut.
This isn't the end.
And, in truth, it wasn't. It felt like it, but it wasn't. Harry would be seeing her soon - just not at Hogwarts.
Harry slowly made his way towards the other Hogwarts students, watching as the Beauxbatons Carriage sailed away through the cloudless sky.