Chapter 28: Action at the World Cup
August 20th, 1994
Delacour Manor, Marseille
Fleur Delacour sat in her favorite chair on the small balcony she had access to, from her room. Delacour Mansion was surrounded by beautiful, well-kept gardens and she could spot the faint outline of the Mediterranean Sea in the distance.
Fleur sighed, over two weeks had passed since the Under-18 Championship and she still felt embarrassed about her performance in Moscow.
The first couple of duels during the group stage had been as easy as expected. But then a momentary lapse in concentration during her quarterfinals cost her an injury from the brutal German and pretty much lost her the duel from there onwards.
Fleur still had nightmares from being held under the horrible curse. Just this night, she woke up sweating profusely, entangled in her own bedsheets. Sweet Gabrielle had woken her older sister up, after hearing her pleas from her own room. The little angel offered to stay with her that night, which Fleur gladly accepted.
Fleur felt no remorse at burning half the boy's face clean off. He had held her under an Unforgivable for almost ten seconds! If he wanted to literally play with fire, he could get it!
What had happened right afterward embarrassed her even more, of all people in the arena, Harry Potter defended her and retaliated against the German brute that dared to insult her and spit at her. Why could it not have been anyone else?
Fleur disliked being rescued by others, especially boys. If it had been any other boy, Fleur would have thanked him right afterward with a kiss to the cheek and let the whole thing rest.
Unfortunately things didn't turn out that way, she had been matched with Harry Potter right after her injury and the little boy had even dared to discourage her from continuing to fight!
Of course, that was something that had never been an option, to begin with. Fleur Delacour would continue fighting until she could not perform a single spell. Forfeiting a duel was the most unimaginable thing for her. How could he even hint at something like that?
She had been frustrated with him already, anyways. Fleur had told the truth when she admitted that dancing with Harry Potter had been the best dance at any ball she had attended in recent times, perhaps even ever.
Of course, her father did not like it, but he did not understand the full circumstances. Fleur had not told her parents of the letters she and Potter had exchanged ever since their gruesome duel during the summer.
All her father remembered of the boy was a rude foreigner that made fun of dueling traditions, antagonized and disrespected his little daughter. It came to no surprise that he was not very fond of the boy.
But did he not see that Harry Potter had changed? He had behaved like a perfect gentleman at the ball, respectfully asking her for a dance and leading her through several songs. Fleur had never been able to relax while dancing and let another person lead her.
Usually, the boys were way too distracted staring at certain parts of her that might look inviting while dancing closely. It was one of the reasons Fleur disappeared from the ball for some time to calm her nerves.
Patrice Saint-Claire had been staring at her décolleté for the entire night so far but her papa had warned her that as the son to the Minister of Magic, Fleur had to treat him respectfully at all times. However, when the boy's hands had dipped lower in an attempt to grab her derrière, Fleur had lost it.
She chuckled when she remembered how she had forcefully stepped on the young man's feet with her heel. Saint-Claire had instantly removed his hand off her and yelped in pain. Fleur had of course apologized and used his brief distraction to escape through the dancing couples to find the ladies' restrooms.
Dancing with Harry Potter had been far more pleasant. Not once had his eyes dipped to her décolleté and his hands had remained at a perfectly respectable position on her waist. They even held a pleasant and friendly conversation while one song after another had passed.
She had hoped the Englishman would write to her again, but alas, she had been mistaken. No beautiful snow-white owl had delivered any correspondence over the next months and Fleur didn't understand why. They had each enjoyed themselves at the ball, that much was sure. Right?
Harry Potter did not seem like the young man that might be intimidated by her Papa, as so many others would. So why had he decided not to write to her?
In the end, Fleur had decided that it might be better this way. She had caught herself multiple times, thinking about the raven-haired boy with the beautiful emerald, green eyes. Those distractions would not be beneficial, especially if she was to face him on the dueling platform again.
Fleur shivered at the thought. She had been pushing herself to improve her skill all year long, increasing the time spent practicing with her instructors and learning many new spells. But Harry Potter's learning curve had been even steeper.
The boy was a prodigy, that much was certain. At only 14 years old, he had beat some of the biggest names in the Under-18 Dueling world. Her Papa was certain that he had another mentor, besides Monsieur Flitwick and Black.
He had mentioned that Harry's dueling stance had been invented by a Ukrainian dueling master named Antonin Dolohov, who currently sat in prison for being a supporter of the famous British Dark Lord. Surely he must know the origins of the technique he was using, didn't he?
His footwork was excellent, and he was the fastest duelist she had ever seen, even faster than her father and that's not to mention the power of his spells! She remembered her surprise at the power of Harry's single Reductor, which blasted his opponent back into the wards.
However, all that had been nothing in comparison to the spell Potter had used during the final match. Fleur had decided that she would watch it, but only under a strong disillusionment charm. She did not feel like showing herself in public so early after her defeat.
"Incredible!" Her Papa had gasped beside her at the sight of the ethereal black, winged horse. From its features, Fleur guessed that it must be a Thestral. Luckily, Fleur herself couldn't usually see them as she hadn't seen anyone die yet.
The creature seemed sentient but still obeyed Harry's commands. None of the other boy's spells dealt any damage to it. It showed a remarkable resemblance to a Patronus, yet it was also entirely different in its texture, size, and of course color.
Fleur had asked her Papa if this could have been the spell Potter used to kill the Dementors. Her Papa had visibly frowned and simply said that he did not know. One thing was certain, Harry Potter was dangerous.
He was learning from a dueling Master that did not show his face in public. On top of that, he had access to magic the rest of the world did not even recognize let alone understand.
Fleur sighed and let her gaze wander over the grounds underneath her once more. When will she see the emerald-eyed boy again? At the next tournament? Maybe at the Quidditch World Cup Final? Her family had been invited and it was only a week away.
Probably not, Fleur thought. Harry Potter was not like the other boys, whose thoughts only went back and forth between Quidditch and girls. It was unlikely that he would be attending the event.
But she could always hope, couldn't she? For some reason, she would enjoy seeing him. She still owed him a thank you for stepping in for her and perhaps even an apology for her behavior in Moscow.
She had thought that ignoring the boy and not paying him any attention to him may be the best tactic. She didn't want to get distracted and develop a closer relationship with him with the prospect of facing him in the arena looming but now she wasn't so sure of her actions.
Now that the Championship was over, she would not mind reaching out to him once more, she just hoped it was not too late for that.
August 24th, 1994
Sirius apparated himself and Harry to the edge of the location for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup. Colored tents sprawled out in front of them, as far as the eye could see. At the other side of the long Valley, Harry could make out the outline of the enormous stadium, in which the match would be hosted tomorrow night.
Sirius had insisted on coming early so that he could continue his networking efforts and connect with some more people. His godfather had instantly bought the tickets for the World Cup last year, as soon as his name had been cleared. Unlike James, Harry wasn't the biggest Quidditch fan, but Sirius still managed to persuade his godson to come to the event with him.
They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible but had slipped up by adding chimneys, bellpulls, or weathervanes.
Harry and Sirius arrived at their tent and went inside. The enlargement charm was truly a spectacular piece of magic, Harry chuckled. He stood in a large living room that had a dining area and a kitchen attached to it. Sirius and himself both had their own bed and bathroom.
"Okay kiddo, I have just a couple of meetings, why don't you walk around and see if some of your friends are here already. Otherwise, you can always try to find some other people to hang out with, I think I saw some Bulgarian girls on our way here." Sirius grinned.
"Sure thing, old man, go and catch your meeting." Harry rolled his eyes.
He dropped his luggage in his room and left the tent right after. Harry knew that a couple of his friends, like Terry, Susan and Tracey would be at the World Cup as well. However, he had no idea where they might be.
He just started wandering off in a random direction, grinning at the ridiculous way most wizards and witches tried to appear as muggle as possible. Harry and Sirius would need some water, later on, so Harry started looking for the tap marked on the map they had received from the muggle at the entrance.
Finally, he found it. He conjured a couple of bottles and started filling them up. As he was leaning down to fill the last bottle, he saw a flash of very familiar platinum-blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.
Could it be? Had that been Fleur Delacour?
Harry stood up to his full height and tried to spot the French Veela in the crowd around him. Finally, he saw something, but it wasn't Fleur. A young girl was walking around, seemingly lost.
Harry would have guessed she might be around ten or eleven years old. She had the same platinum hair as Fleur Delacour, but her eyes were more gray compared to the deep blue that Harry so vividly remembered.
But then Harry remembered. This was Fleur's younger sister, the small girl that had been at the Under-14 Championship last year in France.
The young girl was obviously lost. She looked scared and had just started sobbing, tears were leaking from her large eyes. No one around her was paying any attention to her. What was she doing here all alone? Had she lost her family? Harry decided to approach her:
"Mademoiselle. Delacour? Have you lost your parents?" Harry asked her in French.
The girl stopped sobbing and looked up at Harry with large red puffy eyes.
She looked almost like a miniature copy of her older sister; Harry chuckled.
She nodded: "I was helping my older sister collect some water. On our way back, we got separated in the crowd. I don't know where our tent is." She sniffed her nose.
"Would you like me to help look for them?" Harry asked her.
The girl looked up, gave him a shy innocent smile, and nodded once again: "Yes please, I am scared."
"Alright, let's try to go to the French sections first and see if we can find them." Harry smiled and gestured for the younger girl to follow him.
As if it were the most normal thing in the world, the girl grabbed his hand and let him guide her through the crowd of witches and wizards. Harry noticed how she was eying him curiously out of the corner of his eye.
"You are Harry Potter!" The girl suddenly gasped, perplexed.
"Yes, I am, my Lady and to whom do I owe the pleasure?"
The girl giggled: "I am Gabrielle Delacour" She replied proudly and stuck up her chin, showing a remarkable resemblance to her older sister.
"It's very nice to meet you, Gabrielle," Harry replied with a small mock bow. Gabrielle grinned at him. But then she frowned:
"My Maman and Papa don't like you. Fleur says the same, but I think she secretly wants to be your friend. I saw your letter to her."She smiled a mischievous grin.
"Well, that's not very nice to go through your sister's private correspondence." Harry laughed.
"How could I not get curious if she reads the same letters over and over again and puts it next to her night table." Gabrielle laughed a peal of small melodic laughter that reminded Harry so much of her sister. "But please don't tell her about it! I don't like it whenever Fleur and I fight."
"I will keep your secret, Princess." Harry winked at her and acted like he was looking around for the French section of the camp.
What was that all about? Fleur read his letters over and over again? If she truly wanted to be his friend then why did she ignore him at the dueling championships?
They finally arrived at a section that was covered in French tents, stating the obvious, by the sheer quantity of French flags everywhere. Harry knew that the Delacour were among the nobility in France, so he asked the closest gentlemen if he had any idea where the government officials had set camp. From there on they would easily find the Delacours.
They continued their walk through the camp. Gabrielle had yet to let go of his hand and instead brabbled excitedly in quick French about the first year of school at Beauxbaton she would be starting in September.
Finally, they arrived at a separate section from the rest of the camp that was guarded by an Auror. Harry asked the woman if she knew where the Delacours had set camp since he wanted to retain their lost daughter. The French witch gave him a smile and gestured to one of the biggest tents to her left.
Gabrielle recognized her tent, let go of Harry's hand, and started running towards it. Harry awkwardly decided to wait, as Gabrielle walked inside. He could hear nervous and distressed voices from the inside that changed to shouts of relief as Gabrielle's head disappeared behind the wall of the tent.
A minute went by, and Harry wondered if he should just turn to leave and let the family enjoy their small reunion in peace when all of the sudden, the entrance to the tent was pushed aside and a radiant, pink-faced Fleur Delacour stood in front of him.
Harry's breath caught in his throat and he gulped. She was wearing a casual bright yellow summer dress and she looked incredible. Her eyes found him and they stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Fleur started moving towards him. Moving was probably the wrong word, as she practically ran out of the entrance to the tent and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.
Harry was perplexed and overwhelmed. Her incredibly soft warm body was pressed against him, and he could feel her hot breath at his neck. He also noticed her well-developed chest was pressed against his own.
Her unique scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled his nose. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her slim waist and carefully hugged her back.
He had been hugged goodbye by some of his female friends last year. Daphne's hug lasted perhaps a tick longer than the others, but none of them came close to the way he felt right now. His mind and body were fully focused on the warm feeling of Fleur Delacour in his arm.
"Thank you for bringing back my sister." She whispered in his ear, before loosening her hold on Harry and taking a couple of steps backward. Both teens blushed furiously.
It was only now that Harry noticed the other members of the Delacour family at the entrance to the tent. Madam Delacour eyed Harry with the same curiosity her youngest daughter had only a couple of minutes ago.
Harry had to suppress his grin at the look on Sebastian Delacour's face. He seemed very conflicted about how to handle the situation. Obviously, Harry did not stand in his highest regard, and it was very clear to see.
However, at the last tournament, Harry had gained an ounce of his respect by defending Fleur and using magic he had never seen before. Now the boy even helped bring back his youngest Daughter.
"I think, thanks are appropriate, Monsieur Potter." The man slowly offered his hand and Harry firmly shook it, while holding eye contact. It was obvious that the man still did not like him, but by the look on Fleur's face, she was just as surprised by her father's peace offering as he was.
"It was nothing, Monsieur Delacour. I noticed Gabrielle needed some help and we even had quite an entertaining chat on our way back here." Harry winked at the youngest Veela and grinned at a small frown on Fleur's face.
"Perhaps we could invite Mr. Potter to dinner to show our gratitude." Madam Delacour offered. Her husband and oldest daughter shot her a surprised look, but Gabrielle beamed at the thought.
"I don't want to intrude on you any further, Madam Delacour, really it was nothing." he tried to get himself out of it.
Gabrielle walked up to him started pouting with her adorable large gray puppy eyes and asked:
"Please, Harry!"
"Well how could I say no to that face," Harry chuckled.
"Perfect, Fleur, why don't you show Monsieur Potter around the French campsite while Gabby helps me prepare dinner." Madam Delacour suggested. Fleur nodded eagerly, while Gabrielle looked about ready to protest before Fleur shut her up with a look that could rival McGonagall's.
"Yes, Maman, follow me, Mr. Potter." Fleur offered towards Harry.
The two walked along with the campsite, not saying anything for a couple of minutes. Harry did not know what to talk about...The tournament was probably a bad topic, due to her injuries and loss against him. Before he could ask her about her school year, Delacour spoke up herself:
"I still wanted to thank you for defending me against that nasty German boy in Moscow. I was not fully conscious when it all happened, but my Papa told me what occurred." She let out a soft chuckle. "Even Papa was slightly impressed by your actions, though he would never admit it."
"Yeah, I don't think your father likes me very much…" Harry trailed off, remembering their encounter at the New-Years-Eve ball
"He will come around eventually," Fleur replied optimistically. "He is just very protective of his daughters, especially due to our heritage."
She continued:
"I should probably also apologize for not engaging in any interaction with you in Moscow. I thought it was best to keep a healthy distance from you during the tournament but I think I was wrong..."
Harry nodded. He could understand that. Deciding to switch the awkward topic, he asked her about her school year.
"It was perfect, just as I expected I finished top in all my classes."The Veela replied proudly,
Harry chuckled at that. She was always so proud.
Fleur narrowed her large eyes and looked at him with a perfectly manicured raised eyebrow: "Something funny, Monsieur Potter? Do you not care about your own academics?"
"I'll have you know that I've been the best student in my year for the last three years now, but it's true, I don't really care about academics. It's the same with dueling. Sure, it can be fun, but there are more practical reasons for me to learn it." Harry explained vaguely
"Then why do you learn it? Why do you want to be the best?" Fleur asked him, confused.
"To survive," Harry replied. Making it all but obvious that they should not delve deeper into the topic at the present moment.
They returned to dinner, which was a surprisingly pleasant affair. Madam Delacour must have had some firm words with her husband before they arrived back at the tent because the Delacour patriarch treated Harry almost respectfully.
"Where did you learn French, Monsieur Potter? It is very good. Especially, no offense, for an Englishman." Madam Delacour asked him.
Harry decided to just be honest with them. They invited them into their home, or tent, and shared dinner with him. What was the point in lying now?
"Perenelle Flamel taught me French and some German, two years ago when I spent my summer with them," Harry explained with a chuckle.
Sebastian Delacour, almost spit half his glass of water over the table at his wife and barely caught himself from falling off his chair:
"You, as a twelve-year-old, spend your summer learning French from the wife of the greatest Alchemist, Nicolas Flamel?" Sebastian asked him disbelievingly.
"To me, they are Nick and Penny but yes, I did," Harry replied neutrally. There was no reason to tell them the entire background to it.
"Now that I think about it, I might have seen one of you at a dueling tournament in Paris that they took me to. It was the French National Championship and I caught a glimpse of platinum hair right before we apparated back to their home. Were any of you there that day?" Harry asked Madam Delacour, Fleur, and Gabrielle.
Fleur frowned:
"Yes, Maman and Papa took me to Paris for the tournament to watch and learn."
Harry nodded while the rest of the Delacour family was still staring at him. After some light dessert, Harry thanked the Delacours for their hospitality and Fleur accompanied him to the exit of the French campsite.
"Thank you again for bringing back my sister, Monsieur Potter."Fleur whispered quietly as they stood in front of each other to say goodbye.
"It was a pleasure, thank you for dinner." He replied, looking deep into her eyes.
Fleur gave him a beautiful shy smile: "I think we might see each other again sooner than you think."
Harry had no idea what she was talking about:
"If that's the case, you should call me Harry next time."
"I think I will, goodnight, Harry," Fleur whispered and turned around to walk back to her tent.
"Good night, Fleur." Harry shook himself out of his trance and made his way back to a waiting Sirius, who no doubt would tease him mercilessly about his little adventure.
August 26th, 1994
Harry woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a faint scream outside his tent. What is going on? Are these just some Irish fans celebrating their victory? He wanted to get back to sleep when another far louder scream could be heard from what must have been within one hundred meters of the tent.
Harry jumped out of his bed and quickly put on a shirt and trousers over his boxers.
"Sirius!" Harry ran over to the other bedroom
"Sirius, you have to wake up! We are being attacked!"
Sirius instantly shot up. Luckily, he was a light sleeper ever since Azkaban. The two quickly shrunk their most important personal items and made their way to the entrance of the tent.
The night sky was illuminated by multiple fires and people were screaming everywhere. The sounds of spell fire could be heard from a few hundred meters to his left.
"Sirius, we have to help them!" The two wizards charged towards where the sound of battle was the loudest and fought against the masses of people running at them from the direction where the two were running towards.
Suddenly Sirius was gone from his left.
"Sirius?" Harry shouted
"Sirius, where are you?"
His shouts were silenced by the screams all around him. An explosion occurred not too far ahead of him. The mass of people fleeing from the danger had now considerably thinned out. The dark pathway between the tents was almost empty of any visitors.
He turned around a corner and then he saw them. A group of people dressed in dark cloaks and wore white masks on their faces. They moved, wands drawn, through the camp, setting fire to the tents to their left and right. Harry estimated that it was between five and seven people, but he couldn't be sure.
The masks however, Harry recognized those masks from somewhere. He had read about them in some of his books when he first entered the wizarding world four summers ago. These people were Death Eaters, followers of Voldemort.
Rage burned through Harry. How dare they show up here and terrify innocent people! He was about to step out in front of them when he felt someone's magical signature approaching him from behind. Harry whirled around; a spell ready on his lips when the faint light at the tip of the wand illuminated the beautiful face of Fleur Delacour.
Fleur held a finger in front of her lips. Harry nodded and gestured her to follow, they left and walked around another corner, where Harry pulled her in the entrance to a tent:
"What the hell are you doing here? Where is your family?" Harry whispered in French.
"Same as you, I got separated! Now be quiet or we will be caught!"Fleur hissed back in rapid French,
Harry sighed: "Okay, this is what we're going to do. You walk back and go look for your family, while I apprehend these idiots in the masks, sounds good? Alright, let's go!"
Fleur pulled him back towards her: "I will not leave you, Harry! Who even are these people? What do they want?"
Harry groaned: "Fleur, please!"
At her unmoving expression, he frowned and continued: "Those are followers of Voldemort. I don't know what they want, but anyone that takes up that mask is my enemy."
Fleur regarded him for a long moment: "Then I will fight with you! Together we have a better chance. It's too many of them, even for you."
Harry thought about his option. He knew she was right. However, for some reason, he did not like the thought of her being in danger.
"Fine," He sighed: "But please be careful, okay."
Fleur nodded.
"While you cast anti-apparation wards around here, I will engage them in some light combat. As soon as they are trapped, we engage together and kill them."
Fleur narrowed her eyes. "Kill them?"
Harry gave her a cold stare. "Anyone that takes up this mask or wears the Dark Mark deserves to die." He hissed back.
"Fine, leave some of the fun for me then, little boy." Fleur winked at him before she started chanting and waving her wand in a complex pattern. Harry felt the wards being erected around them. He grabbed his wand more firmly and made his way back towards the death eaters.
The small group had stopped setting tents on fire. Instead, they were surrounding a woman that lay unconscious on the ground before them.
"Let's wake her up and have some fun with her, shall we." One of them laughed.
"Crucio!"
The woman's eyes flew open and she screamed in pain as the curse hit her. Harry could not wait any longer. He jumped around the corner, now clearly visible for the Death Eaters.
"You guys picked the wrong night for your games." Harry stated threateningly.
"Well what do we have here?" one of them sneered. "Are you going to play the hero, boy?"
"I am definitely not a hero." Harry chuckled, before flicking his wand and firing a piercing hex right at the man that had performed the Cruciatus curse on the woman. The spell struck the man and left a hole the size of a golf ball in his chest. He dropped to the ground, dead.
Before the Death Eaters even realized what happened, a cutting curse sliced through another man's neck, almost cutting his head clean off. They finally responded with spells their own and Harry quickly rolled to the side as some very unpleasant-looking curses came flying towards him.
"It's Potter!" One of the men finally recognized him.
"The Dark Lord will reward me unlike any other when he comes back, for killing you, Potter!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry dropped to the floor, as the green flash raced towards his position and narrowly missed him. Untamable rage surged through his veins, he swirled his wand through the air and an overpowered Bombarda Maxima detonated like a grenade in front of the Death Eaters.
Three of them managed to shield themselves from the debris, but the fourth had stood too close to the zone of impact. He dropped to the grounds with a missing limb and was covered in blood and dirt.
Harry managed to roll out of the way of another killing curse, but there was no way he could dodge the dark purple cutting curse being sent his way by the tallest of his opponents.
He readied himself for the inevitable impact when out of nowhere a wooden plate was conjured in front of him, followed by a Protego to shield him from the equally deadly splinters.
"You took your time." Harry panted, as the familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent filled his nostrils and a person appeared close to his side.
"I erected anti-Portkey wards as well, it took a bit longer than expected." Fleur grinned while dodging a Cruciatus curse and retaliating with her own spells.
"These assholes tortured a woman before I interfered. No mercy!"Harry growled and sent a bone breaker to the chest of one of the last three remaining Death Eaters.
The two remaining realized that they might be outmatched and did not favor their chances anymore. They took a look at each other and went to take a step forward to disapparate.
"Where are you guys going? I thought you wanted to have some fun?"
Harry sneered and sent a Reducto full force at one of them. The man was thrown a couple of meters backward and Harry was certain that a few of his ribs and maybe his spine must have been broken.
Fleur hit his comrade with a disarming charm and put him in a full-body bind. Harry looked at her questionably and raised his wand to finish the last Death Eater.
"No, Harry! We need to know how many more groups there might have been and who organized all of this!" Fleur interfered just as the spell was about to leave his lips.
Harry groaned. The bloodlust had taken over him, but he could not argue with her logic. He was about to intrude on the prisoner's mind with a Legilimency attack when the sky above them was illuminated by a giant skull with an animated snake slithering out of its mouth.
"The Dark Mark," Harry whispered. It must have been cast close to the edge of the forest. There have to be more of them tonight. Before either of them could move, they heard the sounds of several footsteps approaching.
Harry and Fleur readied themselves standing back-to-back, covering each other. Wizards and witches in long Auror red robes surrounded them from all sides:
"Drop your wands, or we will open fire!" A familiar stern voice yelled from ahead of Harry.
"Madam Bones! This is Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour. Lower your wands and we lower our own!"
"Fleur!" A shout came from the opposite direction and Sebastian Delacour burst through the lines of Aurors to take his daughter into a tight embrace. The Aurors had still kept their wands trained on the two.
"Mademoiselle Bones, tell your Aurors to stand down right now, or you will experience the full power of the French Ministry! You are all aiming at my daughter!" Sebastian shouted at the Ministry personnel.
"I will have to take them into custody, Mr. Delacour, they both spilled blood on British soil." Madam Bones replied calmly.
"You will do no such things. When I visited Britain in my role as a French ambassador, so did my family. Some of your countrymen…" He pointed at the dead Death Eaters around them. "…attacked an international representative and her companion for the night." He gestured at Harry, who simply raised his eyebrow at the choice of words.
Delacour continued. "I will be leaving with both children. In my generosity, I will let you keep that prisoner over there."
"Fleur! Monsieur Potter, we are leaving now!"
Harry knew better than to argue with the man right now. He cast one last hate-filled look at the surviving Death Eater, wishing he could pull the mask off and see his face, before turning towards Fleur.
He had no idea how to feel about her right now. She had fought with him tonight. Of course, he knew that she could fight, but dueling someone and taking a life were two different things. How did she feel about him killing those Death Eaters? Did she resent him now?
She looked at him with those large deep blue eyes. Even standing there as she was right now, with dirt all over her robes, her face covered in sweat and stray strands of her platinum-blonde hair standing up in all sorts of directions, she still looked incredibly beautiful. Almost as if she was glowing from within.
Harry grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze.
"Thank you, Fleur."
Chapter 29: Enemy of Slytherin
AN: Hey guys. I am glad you enjoyed the last chapter.
For obvious reasons, the fourth year will be significantly longer (word count) than the previous years. I hope you guys still bear with me, as we will finally get some more HarryxFleur scenes and of course lots of action with Harry's unique approach to the Triwizard Tournament.
Let's jump right in, shall we?
Enjoy!
The recognizable sections belong to JKR
Chapter 29
September 1st, 1994
Harry sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, waiting for his friends to join him. In his lap lay the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.
The Dueling Duet's Deadly Dance
By Rita Skeeter
Magical Britain is still healing from the shocking events of the night after the Quidditch World Cup. Now, new information has surfaced on what actually occurred that night. Of course, the story would not be worthwhile, if Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was not somehow involved in the events.
Our national hero had only weeks earlier been declared the youngest ever winner of the Under-18 Dueling Championship in Moscow. According to our reports, Harry Potter was present at the World Cup with his recently declared innocent Godfather, Sirius Black. However, their precious godson-godfather time was interrupted by a nasty surprise.
As my readers well know, the peaceful celebrations that went until deep into the night came to a halt when several groups of people covered in white masks and long dark robes started setting tents on fire and randomly attacking the innocent campers.
Harry Potter found himself facing such a group of masked individuals, who according to reports from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had been torturing a foreign witch with the Cruciatus curse.
Naturally, our Hero could not bear to witness such atrocities and came to the woman's rescue. However, the means by which he defended the injured woman might surprise and shock many of my readers. Four out of the six masked attackers did not survive their encounter with young Mr. Potter.
The four dead have been identified as Mr. Theodore Nott senior, Mr. Rolf Goyle, Mr. Thomas Selwyn, and Mr. Robert Montague. According to official reports by the St. Mungos, all of the deceased died upon impact with spells of certainly darker nature.
Mr. Jacob Warrington survived his encounter and is currently in critical condition. The healers estimate that he might survive but will likely be paralyzed from the waist downwards due to an almost untreatable injury to his lower spine. Marcus Avery was the last member of the masked group and survived his encounter with Mr. Potter unharmed.
The questions my readers will be asking themselves are of course: What led these fine members of our magical society to create such chaos at the World Cup and use an Unforgivable on a foreign guest? Could they have been under the Imperius curse, as many of the members of the small group had once claimed, almost a decade ago?
One should also consider Potter's involvement in the events. Was it truly necessary to return fire with lethal force? How damaging is killing for a fourteen-year-old's still-developing mind?
Interestingly enough, Harry Potter did not face the masked aggressors by himself. Fleur Delacour, daughter of Sebastian Delacour, and fellow dueling competitor of Mr. Potter stood by his side as they struck down the masked attackers together.
When did Harry Potter and Ms. Delacour get so closely involved? I am sure all of my readers remember the drama from last summer after the infamous duel between the two got out of hand in Paris. Our couple was forced to face each other again during this year's tournament in Russia. Mr. Potter defeated the older competitor after the latter still suffered from her injuries from previous duels.
But was their deadly dance at the World Cup really necessary? Since when is Harry Potter the wizarding world's jury, judge, and executioner? Did he only act in self-defense, or was he perhaps the aggressor from the beginning?
Harry Potter will not face any legal repercussions from his actions, as he had been granted immunity from prosecution by the French government for defending a representative.
Two things are for sure:
Harry Potter is keeping us on the edge and involved in the ever-so-fierce drama that occurs wherever he appears, and this Reporter will definitely keep a closer eye on our Deadly-Dueling-Couple.
For further information on the history between Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour, including all events at which they have been seen together and exclusive photos, turn to Page 4
For further information on Mr. Potter's tragic victims turn to page 6 (The Daily Prophet offers their condolences)
Harry chuckled, of course, Rita Skeeter had found a way to somehow still portray him in a bad light. However, all in all, the article had been fairly accurate.
Flashback
Sebastian Delacour had led Fleur and Harry away to a location outside the camp, where the French officials had set up their temporary camp.
A couple of pieces of parchment quickly granted him immunity against any and all prosecution, since he had just been declared the youngest official bodyguard, hired by the French DMLE to protect the Delacour family during their stay at the World Cup.
Harry was very thankful for that. The last thing he wanted to get involved with was any legal battle with the old pureblood families, of the ones he had just killed. Their children would be waiting for him at Hogwarts anyway.
He had waited for Sirius, who finally found his way toward Harry an hour later. In the meantime, Fleur had attended to his small cuts and bruises and the two had talked about the upcoming year at Hogwarts.
Fleur had finally filled him in on why they might see each other again sooner than Harry thought.
The Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts next term and Fleur would be one of the competitors for Beauxbaton. The Veela seemed positive that she would be chosen by whatever impartial judge would choose the champions for the schools.
Harry was conflicted, winning the tournament might be a useful challenge, helping him to improve, whilst also setting a benchmark for his powers. However, he really enjoyed the quiet term at Hogwarts he experienced last year and could use the time to work on his own projects.
When Sirius finally arrived, Harry explained everything that happened before the two disappeared to Grimmauld Place. Sirius was immensely proud when Harry had finished recounting his victory over the Death Eaters. His Godfather had gone to school with some of the men and knew of their alleged crimes during the war. They were certainly far from innocent.
Afterward, Sirius teased Harry mercilessly about his 'Deadly Duet' with Fleur Delacour:
"James would be so proud of you if you managed to bag a Veela in your fourth year already…"
At that, Harry decided that it was time for bed.
Over the next few days until the start of term, Harry did his usual shopping for school. Besides refilling his supplies, buying the new books and some treats for Hedwig, Harry also got his robes adjusted.
He could hardly believe how much he had grown already, he would love to know how much was due to the rituals and how much just his natural growth spurt.
He had grown almost four inches during the last year, (well more like 15 months, due to the time turner) and now stood at a very proud five feet and nine inches. If he kept growing like that, he would certainly reach the height of around six feet and two inches of his reflection in the Mirror of Erised, in only a few years, if that.
Due to his dueling training and workouts, he had also filled out considerably, especially around his chest, arms, and thighs. A curious glance at the weigh scale at Grimmauld Place had put him at 150 pounds.
Some might consider it heavy for a 14-year-old but considering his body composition and newly acquired muscle mass, Harry was very pleased with it. He still felt athletic and quick enough for his duels. The extra mass also let him appear a bit older to the outside world and more often than not intimidated people his age.
End of Flashback
The door to his compartment slipped open and Terry stepped in, carrying his trunk. The boy had attended the Quidditch World Cup with his family and Harry had seen him shortly after Ireland's win, on their way out of the stadium.
"Hey Terry, how are you? Did you escape the chaos at the World Cup?" Harry greeted his friend.
Terry grimaced and took a seat beside him: "We got away, but it was close. Our tent and many of our possessions were burned in the fire. My dad is actually one of your biggest supporters in the Wizengamot right now. I'm glad you finished what you started when attacking those bastards in the masks."
"Thank you, Terry. That means a lot to me, especially since half the wizarding world is asking for my head once again. Do you know where Susan, Daphne, and the others are?" Harry asked curiously.
Terry visibly frowned: "I would not expect them to join us, if I were you, Harry. You have to understand, you killed the family members of many Slytherins that day. Selwyn is even a cousin of Daphne's father, whereas Tracy is distantly related to the Notts. I don't think they resent you for your actions but being overly friendly with you right now would mean pretty much suicide for them in Slytherin.
I exchanged some letters with Daphne about it, she isn't scared for herself, only what the older boys might do to her younger sister, Astoria. Rape of younger year girls is not exactly a singularity in the house of the snakes." Terry explained
Harry grimaced: "I guess I can understand that, but what about Susan and Hannah?"
"Well, both are purebloods, so chances are they were distantly related to your victims as well. However, it's a bit more complicated for Susan. You publicly defied her aunt and pretty much resisted arrest when the Delacour guy granted you immunity. Madam Bones has to remain neutral in her position as Head of the DMLE, so she probably told Susan to keep some distance from you, at least until the whole thing blows over.
As for Hannah, well, she is pretty much just following Susan in everything she is doing, so she won't just show up by herself, will she?"
Harry nodded. He didn't like those developments, but they made sense, at least he still had Terry. The two talked about the upcoming tournament (Terry had been told by his father) and what else the school year might entail. When the Express arrived at Hogsmeade station, the boys took a carriage by themselves up to the brightly illuminated Castle.
He walked up the stairs to the main entrance. Already, Harry noticed the stares and whispers from the students around him. They all practically sprinted out of his way, when Harry suddenly felt the atmosphere around him change. Danger was approaching from somewhere.
"Terry, get out of here right now!" Harry whispered.
"What? No, Harry, I will stand with you." Terry responded, pulling his wand, even though no threat could be seen as of yet.
"This is no time to argue, get the hell out here. There is no need for you to spend the next couple of weeks in the hospital wing."
Terry looked uncertain, but finally nodded and quickly ascended the stairs, leaving Harry in the courtyard by himself. One by one, upper and middle year Slytherins started stepping forward out of the ring of students around him. The entire courtyard went absolutely silent.
Harry did a full 360 degrees turn and calmly analyzed the situation. He counted about 30 students that might be part-taking in whatever was happening right now. He needed to prevail for about three more minutes before a professor might check on what happened. Not even the Prefects from other houses looked like they were going to interfere. Harry was truly alone.
Montague, a tall sixth year, stepped forward. Harry had killed his father at the World Cup.
"Ah Montague, how is the family? Were you guys cheering for Ireland or Bulgaria? I never had the chance to ask your father." Harry laughed.
Montague's face grew red in anger, and he pulled out his wand. The boy was stopped by Cassius Warrington. The seventh-year had been declared something like the Head within House Slytherin over the last two years:
"House Slytherin hereby declares open warfare on Harry Potter. Anyone that associates with him will be treated equally. You have taken family members from us, Potter, we will have our retribution. You can not escape what's coming."
"Have a go then, come on!" Harry challenged the older boy, his eyes flashing the emerald green.
"I wiped the floor with guys five times as dangerous and skilled as you. Do you actually think I am scared of any of you? You should be careful with who you threaten or House Slytherin will suffer even more losses, you useless sacks of shit."
"Now begone!" Harry hissed in Parseltongue and enjoyed the shiver that ran through the assembled Slytherins.
Warrington actually raised his wand and Harry readied himself for the attack, when the voice of Professor McGonagall echoed through the courtyard:
"Everyone inside right now! The first years are about to arrive, and I will not have their first impression of Hogwarts ruined by your childish quarrel. Anyone who is not sitting at their House table within the next minute will earn detention until the end of term with me!"
Harry shot a wink at Warrington and grinned at the surrounding Slytherins before striding past them and inside, his wand still firmly held in his palm. The eyes of everyone in the Great Hall were upon him, as he entered and took his seat at the Ravenclaw table. It seemed, no one could believe he survived the encounter.
"How did it go?" Terry whispered from his side.
"Take a couple of days to think about whether you want to associate with me, Terry. I have been declared an enemy of House Slytherin and you will get hurt if you stay by my side. Perhaps, what the girls decided to do was the smartest solution."
Terry frowned and turned back to the ongoing sorting. When the last student was sorted into Gryffindor, he turned back to Harry and grinned:
"I think I always had a little lion inside me, mate. Time to let it out, I will stand with you."
The feast started and Harry tucked in, enjoying the variety of food in front of him. When all the plates and dishes disappeared, Dumbledore stood up to hold his beginning of the year speech.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the Castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched.
He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below the third year. "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
Many hardcore Quidditch fans groaned and loudly voiced their disagreement. Harry rolled his eyes, was Quidditch all these people ever thought about?
Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling.
He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table. A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel.
Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that caught his curiosity. One of them was small, dark, and beady.
The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye before it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmiling and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid and Harry, who all put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
So that was Moody, Harry chuckled. Sirius had told him about the man that had been the best Auror in the Ministry when Sirius started as a cadet.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century.
It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively:
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . ."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er- but maybe this is not the time, no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament, well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely:
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.
The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities- until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
The majority of students in the Hall were whispering excitedly to one another.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore or else whispering fervently to their neighbors about the prize money. Harry chuckled. A thousand Galleons were not much to him. Winning the Dueling Championship in Moscow had earned him 2000 Galleons and he had more than enough in his vaults already.
But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age, that is to say seventeen years or older, will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.
"This-" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious: "-is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwart's champion."
His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over the Weasley twins' mutinous faces. "I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year.
I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Harry got from his seat and leaned over to Terry: "Don't wait up for me in the dorm, I've got a couple of things to take care of."
Terry nodded and took his leave from the Hall. Harry also left the large crowd, stepped into an alcove, and threw his cloak over himself in one fluent motion. Then he took out the map from within his robes and checked if the first floor and entrance to the Chamber were clear.
It had been two months since he had last seen Salazar and Harry could not wait to tell the Portrait about everything that had happened. He descended down into the chamber, passed the dead Basilisk, and climbed through the entrance that led to Salazar's personal Quarters.
"Hey there, grumpy man, I'm finally back!"
"Harry! It's good to see you are still alive, how has your summer been and how did the dueling tournament go?"
Harry told the Portrait everything. Starting with the successful ritual on the Summer Solstice, to his victory over the other contestants. He described a couple of his victories in more detail, especially the one with Fleur Delacour, his final duel, and the use of the Inimicus against a human.
The founder's eyes gleamed in pride at his heir. Harry had truly brought glory to the house of Slytherin. Harry continued with the chaos at the World Cup and the battle against the Death Eaters.
"I am glad you showed no mercy, Harry. The fewer followers of Tom remain when he comes back, the more difficult it will be for him to rise to his full power again. Tell me about Fleur Delacour, how do you feel about her?"
"I honestly don't know Sal; I'm so confused. I really enjoyed dancing and fighting with her. But she is always so proud and a bit egocentric. I still remember the way she hugged me and how warm it made me feel.
I guess I don't even have to mention how incredibly attractive she is, but she is also intelligent, witty and she decided to remain with me in times of danger, proving her loyalty.
All I know is that I can't wait for her to come here in October. Oh, I haven't even mentioned yet: The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year. Fleur will be competing for Beauxbaton." Harry explained excitedly.
Salazar gave his heir a knowing grin: "What about you, will you be competing?"
"Officially, I won't be able to, but it would be nice to be chosen anyway and prove my superiority. I am certain that I would be the best choice for the school anyways."
Salazar nodded: "You definitely would be. You have just won the Under-18 Dueling Championship and performed magic none of the seventh-years even know about. Try to find out how exactly the champions are chosen and see if you can trick whatever person or device they use for it."
Harry agreed to that plan and Salazar continued:
"What about your other plans for this term? Any new projects?"
Harry grinned: "I am glad you asked. There are a couple actually. First of all, I want to improve my passive Legilimency skills. It's an incredibly useful talent to have, especially against people that have no concept of the mind arts and virtually no shields."
"Our family has always been gifted in the mind arts. I will teach you the basics, but from there on you will just have to practice. I doubt you will find any detailed books on it at Hogwarts." The Founder explained and grinned.
"Next, I want to try to convince the Headmaster to let me take my OWLs in three classes by Christmas or new year. By that time, I will definitely be able to get at least an Exceeded Expectations in each subject, if not an Outstanding."
At Salazar nods, Harry continued:
"This year I also want to learn how to apparate by myself. I am tired of being side-alonged and it's something I always wanted to learn anyways."
"Apparition will certainly be useful. You have my blood, therefore you can apparate right into the Chamber from anywhere outside of Hogwarts. Again, I will teach you the necessary theory, but you will have to practice down here in the Chamber on your own. Make sure to properly master the technique, so that you can vanish and appear completely silently, without the annoying POP."
Harry nodded his understanding: "Then, I also want to create my first spell, I noticed that I had no defense against the Unforgivables, neither at the Tournament nor at the World Cup. I need a physical shield that intercepts them and can be conjured rather quickly."
"Last but not least, I want to embrace my Peverell family legacy. Ever since visiting Ignotus Peverell's grave last Halloween, I have been thinking about the Hallows from time to time. Maybe it's time to approach Ollivander and ask him what he knows about the Elder Wand."
"You should be careful Harry. People have been searching for the Hallows ever since their creation. Countless lives had been destroyed and blood spilled in their pursuit. Did you not tell me that your Headmaster had also been looking for them?" Salazar looked fearful.
"He gave me back my cloak, so uniting the Hallows is not his goal, if I am not mistaken. I think he is looking for a specific Hallow and used my cloak to gather information about their creation and perhaps their relationship to each other. Why else would he give it back?"
"If I had to guess, he is looking for the second Hallow, just as you did. Dumbledore has family buried in Godric's Hallow and he mentioned that the Mirror of Erised showed him his family, just as it did for me.
Dumbledore is way too old to be seeing his future family, therefore I suspect the mirror showed him his past family and perhaps a way to get them back? In case, he has no need for the Elder Wand right now.
He beat Grindelwald and even Voldemort did not actively seek out a duel at the height of his powers. The Wand is of no use for him right now, I am sure it's the Stone he is seeking." Harry explained his train of thought.
The two talked for a bit more about their respective theories when Harry suddenly remembered something else, he should be telling Salazar.
"Oh, by the way, your entire house has declared war on me and anyone that associates with me in public," Harry laughed
Salazar got enraged and started hissing in Parseltongue. "How dare they challenge my heir while sleeping in the very dorms I created for them! We can not let this rest, Harry! Tomorrow you will teach them a lesson."
"What can we do?" Harry asked curiously.
"Tonight, you will go down into the dungeons and erect an old Parseltongue ward at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. It will override the current password, so people will be able to leave, but not return there unless they state a very specific new password.
Also, the wards will only let an individual enter after they each stated the password themselves, no groups will get through it." Salazar grinned.
Harry could not control his laughter. This was ingenious. He could publicly embarrass House Slytherin and even Professor Snape. As the only Parselmouth, Harry was the only one that could take the wards back down.
"What should the new password be?" Harry chuckled.
"We will think about it tonight, but let me teach you the wards first, they are a bit more complex."
Two hours later, at around three am in the morning, Harry finally understood enough of the complex wards to cast them himself. He took the stack of notes and made his way back up into the Castle, checking the map. Everyone was deep asleep. No prefects, teachers, or caretakers were patrolling the corridors at this hour.
Harry sneaked down into the dungeons and to the bare stretch of stone wall that hid the entrance to the Snake-Pit. He took out his notes and started chanting in Parseltongue. The wards were old and very powerful.
Due to their Parselmagic nature, even Gringotts Curse breakers might struggle to break them down. Towards the end of the casting process, Harry added the password, barely able to stop his laughter at the dumb-struck expressions he could expect tomorrow.
He went back down into the chamber, to use the timer turner and finally get some sleep. Maybe there was more of a Marauder in him than he had originally thought. Sirius would definitely be proud of him.