Disclaimer: Story based on characters and plot owned by J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
My thanks go to beta readers ParseltonguePhoenix, Fenraellis, and Vlad the Inhaler. The DLP crew, Fanficauthors, and Readers Consortium commented on an early draft and made important comments that led to significant improvement of this work.
CHAPTER 12
Dueling
Broken, Fleur staggers up the long, rocky path along the lake toward the castle. The pain in her body from her ungentle lover slows her gait. She is bleeding. Her face is a ruin and her thighs are damp with blood and other fluid.
Lover? No, not Him. Never a lover.
Fleur had dreamed since childhood of her first sexual experience, of giving herself completely and lovingly to her mate, of tapping deeply into her veela heritage to transcendently pleasure and be pleasured: strong, existential dreams, biological and magical imperatives that define the veela.
Mémé taught her how her magic will connect in the most profound way sexuality and physical affection with love. This evening with Robért was a crass violation. An association of sex with hatred, with malice, with pain. She was a vessel, a plaything. La putain de prostituée.
A whore.
The most foul curse for a veela, a desecration, the wretchedness of which defies human language to express.
“Tell no one,” Robért had commanded. She knows in her heart that she cannot but obey, that she was defeated the moment she was forced to choose Gabrielle's fate over her own.
The witch collapses in anguish. That which she desired above all else, her independence, has been torn from her. Tatters, her dreams, her maidenhood.
The northwesterly wind blows unabated off the frozen lake and the biting frost stings her throbbing cheek and freezes her tears. Her powder blue cloak is ethereal grey in the darkness and moonlight, the color of her grandmother's hair, a strand of which is the core of her wand.
Mémé.
She would have known, would have protected her. Mémé would have allowed her to pursue Harry, that gentle, beautiful boy, rather than Him. Mémé, beaten to death in a fit of pique by Fleur's drunken grandfather.
She weeps until the tears stop falling and then her thoughts turn toward revenge.
A red and grey falcon screeches loudly as it crashes through a windowpane of one of the rooms on the upper floor of the Three Broomsticks Inn. It flaps to the floor before an unsurprised Robért. The hawk transforms into his mentor, Gerard Delacour, known as Faucon within the Order.
"Master." Robért bows, his tone contrite, his head bowed. He knows that this is a delicate situation and he affects penitence.
"I shall speak and you shall remain silent. I do not even wish to look at you, you disgust me so." Faucon draws a wand from within charcoal robes and, with a few flicks, raises privacy charms. "Do you have any idea what you have done, idiot boy?"
Robért, mindful of the order he has received, merely shakes his head.
"Let me elaborate. First and foremost, you have deflowered my beloved daughter, my flesh and blood, by callous rape. This is a grievous insult not only to her, but also to her family, one which has shamed all of us.” He clenches his teeth and stays his hand. A moment passes. “If not for Chevalier's intercession on your behalf, I would have challenged you to an honor duel, one which I assure you would not have ended quickly... or painlessly.” The man steps back, shaking with rage.
“Moreover, I would note that you have stupidly taken that to which you have no claim. Secrets get out, my idiot apprentice--something we've needed to take steps to control. My daughter is now known to no longer be a maiden, a fact which has greatly diminished her attractiveness to certain parties, should the opportunity for a strategic alliance arise. In familial negotiations, we no longer have that bargaining chip, so our leverage has diminished markedly.”
His restraint crumbles. In an flash, the older man's hand streaks forward and strikes Robért upon the face with a powerful blow that cracks his jawbone. The younger man spins around, dizzy, and stands again, his eyes lowered before the powerful, shorter wizard. "An expensive rendezvous, boy--you could have simply asked and I would have purchased a veela putain or several."
Robért straightens slightly, blanching at these words. He has undoubtedly set the Delacour patriarch back much in position and prestige. Gerard, as head of his family, would be within his rights to call a blood feud between the Delacour and the Dupuis families, one that could ruin them. The most likely outcome would find Robért estranged from the blood status that has garnered access to French wizarding aristocracy.
Faucon continues, "Your petty jealousy, while it has harmed my family and our standing, may have more serious implications with regards to the Order." He seizes the younger wizard's chin with his hand and fixes him with cold eyes. A knife of Legilimency lances through Robért's mind and he lowers his mental defenses to allow his master unchallenged access to his memories.
After a long moment, Faucon exhales slowly. "I see. It is as we feared. You took it upon yourself to bind an untrained girl and effect her rune with you as master? This is most audacious, indeed." Robért welks at the man's frigid tone. The younger wizard's face is deathly white, save for swollen purple flesh where his master had struck him. He dares not look away from his mentor's stare.
"Chevalier considers your acts high treason and I agree. The only reason that you still draw breath is that we debated long over appropriate retribution and our leader ordered that you be allowed a probationary task." He grumbles the last. "Make no mistake--you exist at my pleasure. Your life is forfeit, subject to my mercy and, yes, I have a task for you.” He turns from his chastised protegé. “You are to personally see to it that Harry Potter is slain. Do not underestimate him--he will prove a formidable opponent, even for you."
Robért opens his mouth to say something, but doubles in pain as the first syllable sputters from his lips, his compulsion rune activating. Faucon, noticing the man's plight, sniffs and continues, “Against my better judgment, I shall permit you to access my daughter's talents and proximity to Potter in his dispatch, though I stress she is not to be endangered or harmed, least of all by you. Outside of this assignment, you are forbidden contact with her until such time as we can determine how exactly you shall compensate us for your temerity.”
He peers at the junior Rosicrucian and studies him for a long moment. "You may speak, provided it is in the context of clarifying your understanding of your mission."
"Sir, If I may, I can easily kill this boy. It is simply a matter of getting close enough to him."
Faucon smites his apprentice again, dropping him to the floor in a crumpled heap. “Crucio.” In the crimson brilliance, Faucon becomes a stoic devil. His apprentice writhes long under the curse and whimpers softly when it lifts.
"Silence, imbecile. Chevalier believes, and I agree, that the demonstrated, questionable nature of your judgment gives us little confidence. Therefore, we cannot afford to take chances. He has authorized the joining of a specific runic cluster to aid you in your task.” He kicks the prone man sharply in the floating ribs. “Make no mistake--this should not be construed as a reward. Succeed and we may reconsider your status within the Order...."
Rape and Murder at Hogwarts: “Bad-Boy”-Who-Lived Implicated
The Daily Prophet Exclusive by Rita Skeeter
According to sources, Harry Potter, Apprentice to Albus Dumbledore and youngest Hogwarts Tri-Wizard champion, has been questioned in connection with the rape and assault of Fleur Delacour, scion of the wealthy Delacour family and fellow Tri-Wizard champion. While not formally charged, Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts student and close friend of Miss Delacour, notes that since her attack two days ago, the very sight of Potter is enough to cause the Beauxbatons champion to fall into hysterics.
This news is troubling, as it comes on the heels of confirmed reports that Potter has also been questioned in connection with the wrongful death of Luna Lovegood, daughter of publisher, Xenophilius Lovegood. Though not formally charged, Ministry sources note that Potter is a "person of concern" in their ongoing investigation. It should be noted that the first to arrive at the scene where Lovegood was slain was none other than Albus Dumbledore, mentor to Harry Potter.
Notes one classmate, who, fearing for his safety, wishes to remain anonymous, "Potter is out of control. He stalks her [Delacour] and he is very possessive [of her]. He attacks anyone who even tries to talk to her." Reportedly, this student was himself assaulted by Potter following an innocent conversation with the witch. Potter used dark magic in the attack and admitted to training to be the next Dark Lord. "It is clear that Potter is utterly lacking in moral guidance and I can only imagine that if he keeps this up, he will end up in Azkaban or worse," notes Ministry Undersecretary and education expert, Dolores Umbridge. Potter is believed to be in contact with convicted mass murderer, Sirius Black, henchman to You-Know-Who.
While our hearts go out to Miss Delacour, we are left wondering about the environment Albus Dumbledore is providing for our children, where rape and murder on school grounds go unpunished. Perhaps it is time for a Headmaster whose loyalty lies with the students and not with a wayward apprentice?
Ludo Bagman, wearing dark blue and grey Minstry robes over his portly body, stands to address the four champions. He reads from a parchment bearing a silver, embossed Ministry seal, his voice, a monotone. “This afternoon's Tri-Wizard event will be a series of duels among the champions. The duels will work as follows: You will each face the other three in a sequence of six duels. The order of the duels will be determined randomly at the start of the event. No external weapons may be used, though firmament is allowed. You are permitted only a single wand, which must be checked in at the start of the event. No body armor may be worn...” He glances at Harry, who, wearing his dragon armor, nods in assent.
“Each duel will be a single, eight minute bout. Duels stop when time is called, one or more parties yields, or when one or more parties is ruled unable to continue. Continental rules apply, so spells are not restricted strictly to offensive or defensive spells. Duelists are not permitted to leave the platform during the bout. Dark magic is permitted, though frowned upon and will cost the offender points at the discretion of the judges. Unforgivables may not be used and will result in immediate disqualification from the tournament....”
Percy Weasley coughs dryly, catching the attention of the former Quidditch beater, who mumbles, “...as well as criminal prosecution, of course.” Percy smirks at Harry as Bagman continues, “Finally, we have decided to implement an additional constraint: you may not repeat any curse, hex, jinx, or transfiguration over the course of a single duel and all spells must be articulated clearly so that the judges can tell what you are casting. Moreover, transfigured offensive spells must be meaningfully different--for example, conjuring an ice spear and then later conjuring a stone spear would count as a repeated spell. But an ice spear followed by a stone hammer would not, nor would a single conjuration of multiple ice spears. Again, discretion is with the judges in determination of what constitutes repeating a spell.”
Harry knows he should be upset at the last rule, one that places him at a considerable disadvantage compared with the more experienced champions, but he's more concerned with the condition of the witch across the room from him. Fleur's skin is wan and her hair is pulled back into a tight plait. She has dark circles under her eyes and she lacks her characteristic poise. Her dull eyes remains fixed on the floor in front of her and she appears oblivious to everyone else in the room. Harry's heart aches seeing her so.
“Potter!” Harry is pulled out of his reverie by the sharp, slightly nasal voice. “I just want you to know that the Ministry will be watching you closely today. Very closely.” Percy Weasley, also dressed in formal blue and grey Ministry robes and wearing a golden medallion about his neck, steps forward, arrogant, imperious.
Harry glowers at his smug tone and he fights the urge to break the man's nose. Sensing the rising tension, Remus steps forward and puts his left hand on Harry's shoulder. “Mr. Weasley, it is good to see you doing so well.” He shakes hands with the redhead, the latter failing to hide his disgust at coming into physical contact with the werewolf. “Congratulations on your promotion. Promoted to Barty Crouch's executive assistant only a few months out of Hogwarts? Most impressive. Now I hope you don't mind, but I'll need to borrow Harry for a moment....” He leads Harry out of the room and into the crowded hallway before matters can deteriorate further.
Madame Maxime ducks as she enters the narrow, dimly lit classroom being used for preparation by the four champions. Her words break the tension that has been building for several minutes. The Beauxbatons champion, fretting nervously, looks up at the giantess. "You are needed for a moment,” she says in French, “can you come with me please?" Fleur nods and follows her Headmistress out of the room. Krum and the two Hogwarts champions remain behind.
Viktor walks up to Harry and stands menacingly in front of him, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest. "Potter, vats story of you and weela girl? Paper say you fuck her rough. Hurt her."
Cedric looks up, obviously interested in Harry's answer.
Harry levels a hard stare back at the wizard, "No, Krum, the whole thing is a fabrication to smear my name." He sighs. "As I told the aurors, I spent the afternoon and evening with my tutors. I wasn't anywhere near Hogsmeade after lunch."
The stocky Bulgarian looks at Harry intently, as if weighing the veracity of his words, and then relaxes and slaps him hard on the back. "Ah. As I thought, ees made up story. I too have problems vit press. Especially blonde bug lady."
"Bug lady? Skeeter?"
"Da.” He smiles. “Yesterday Hermione catch Skeeter and prooff she ees illegal bug animage. She vill stop writing about me and Hermione. Could ask for you too."
"Thanks, Viktor. I'd appreciate that."
"Glad story about you and pretty weela aren't true,” Viktor says, adding as an afterthought, “Von't have to kill you today."
"Looks like we're up next, Harry."
"Yeah." Harry fidgets with the hem of his robes. "Can't wait."
Cedric gives Harry a sympathetic look. The catcalls and hisses that had greeted him when he entered the Great Hall had been deafening.
In the prior, closely fought battle, Fleur and Viktor had exchanged powerful curses and hexes. In the end, Fleur managed to jinx her opponent to hamper his balance and trip him. Then she hit him with a pain curse, a low-powered Cruciatus derivative, and disarmed him after snapping his wand arm with a somewhat questionable bone-breaking hex. She herself had suffered numerous burns and lacerations; both are receiving medical attention as the scores are tallied.
The treatment is “battlefield medicine”--enough to abate the pain and patch the champions to the point where they can participate in the next round, but requiring much more extensive healing in the infirmary afterward. In principle, the contestants are required to exchange only spells that do not cause permanently injury, since anything that impairs an opponent in the next rounds leads to a point deduction--the more duels affected, the larger the deduction. The corollary is that the final rounds promise to be exceptionally nasty.
A cheer sounds as Bagman announces the scores. Fleur receives an average of nine out of ten points, with a minor deduction for use of dark spells, and Krum scores seven out of ten.
"And our next competitors, Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter of Hogwarts. Champions, to your places!" Even with the sonorous charm, Bagman's voice is barely able to shout over the jeers.
Moody, dressed in traditional orange robes, is serving as match referee. He beckons the champions to him at the center of the platform. "I remind you two, no Unforgivables. Don't embarrass Hogwarts--you use dark magic, you'll answer to me."
Harry and Cedric both nod. Harry offers a hand to Cedric, who, after a moment's hesitation, shakes it firmly. "Good luck."
"You too."
The two position themselves at either side of the platform and Harry considers his strategy. Unlike Fleur, who is brilliant at charms, and Krum, who knows a bevy of powerful curses, Harry suspects that Cedric's forte is transfiguration. Harry's ability to dodge physical attacks will be key. The two champions bow to one another and take their places.
Bagman signals the start of the match. Cedric takes a handful of peanuts from his pocket and tosses them onto the floor of the platform between Harry and him. Transfiguration, transforming one item into another, is far easier than conjuration of items from the ether, so the peanuts, which comprise mineral, protein, and fiber, act as firmament, a base for transfiguration spells. Harry summons a gust of air that blows the peanuts back toward Cedric. As they fly, he attempts to transfigure one into a serpent, but he misses as he ducks a swirling, bronze cutting curse. Harry fires an incarcerous back at his opponent and three thick, hemp ropes snake outward from his wand. Cedric uses a blue flame spell to slash through the ropes as he raises his left fist. Splaying his fingers, the ropes banish back toward Harry, who leaps above the mass of knotted hemp. Stumbling to his knees, he looks up and nods respectfully at the older boy. Wandless banishing. Nice one, Cedric.
Cedric flicks his wand and three peanuts chatter onto the platform between them. He silently transfigures one into an Irish setter, which he directs to attack. As Harry turns his attention to the first dog, two more emerge. Secretly, Harry is impressed by this display--the ability to conjure, control and keep corporeal three complex animals is well beyond Harry's transfiguration skills.
“Tromero fotia mastigio!” Harry's spell extends a whip of solid green flame from the end of his wand. It hums, much like the light swords in a muggle movie Harry caught once on the telly. The whip is capable of intense burns which, if used on a human opponent, would be categorized by the Ministry as questionable--"third degree dark magic" or somesuch.
He slashes the whip across the first dog's nose and forehead and splits its skull. It drops quivering to the floor. On the recoil, he wraps the lash around the second's neck and sears deep, smoking rents in its flesh. He twists his wrist and a pulse of magic thickens the cord, tightening it to remove the canine's head.
The third leaps over the whip and lunges at Harry, its jaws open to sink teeth into his throat. Harry has presaged the attack--he cancels the spell and conjures a steel punch dagger in his left hand. Burying the dagger into the dog's neck, he ducks his head to avoid being struck by a misty, blue-white bolt, a freezing curse that Cedric has hurled. A second spell, yellow, a reducto most likely, follows. Harry lifts the dying dog into the path of the spell. The animal pulverizes as his hastily conjured dagger fades and he is rewarded with a shower of bloody dog guts.
Harry throws a tripping jinx and an impedimentia toward his opponent, biding time with useless throw-away spells, and casts a minor conjuration, a variant of aguamenti that produces, instead of water, a torrent of oil. Cedric protects himself with a shield charm and splashes the oil into a circle around him. Harry's opponent is now functionally restricted to a small portion of the platform, lest he risk slipping on the slick surface or Harry's igniting the oil with a flame curse.
With a sweeping wave of his wand, Cedric conjures a swarm of steel pellets that he banishes wandlessly at Harry. Relying on precognition, Harry neatly sidesteps the pellets and uses the time to gather his power. Just before he launches his hex, a roaring wall of blue flame approaches. Cedric has banished the oil toward him and simultaneously ignited it with a wanded bluebell charm.
Ignoring the approaching blaze, Harry shouts, “Stupefy," pumping a gout of magic into the spell. He makes a subtle twist with his wand at the end of its motion and a vibrant red bolt, thicker in diameter than his arm, blazes toward his opponent with a loud crackle. The head of the streamer, shaped like a cone, blows a wide hole in the approaching flame and slams into and through Cedric's thick protego shield. The bolt penetrates the center of the older champion's chest and he crumples to the floor. Harry leaps as the flame wall reaches him and hurls his body through the hole in the wall that his spell created.
He stumbles to his feet in front of a silent crowd and he pats down the smouldering flames on his robes. Only a small handful clap for him, though someone--one of the twins, most likely--lights a firework. Madame Pomfrey rushes to the fallen champion and attempts to revive him. Moody grunts and hobbles to face Harry, his voice carrying throughout the Hall, "Just what the hell was that, Potter? Thought you could fool us with that stunt?"
"What do you mean? You heard, it was a stunner."
"Stunner, my ass. I helped train that boy. No way a simple stunner could punch through his shield." A few nearby reporters dictate to Quick-Quotes pens.
Still on an adrenaline high, Harry's blood boils. "You know what? Fuck you, Moody--you've been on my case since you came here and I've had it! Unless you have something intelligent to say, stay the fuck away from me," Harry turns away from his professor and jumps down off the platform. What gives? If anyone, Moody should recognize a Bletchly twist....
"You're lucky I'm not judging this thing, Potter!" the teacher shouts after him, "I'd have you kicked out of here so fast..."
Harry spins back around. "Hey, if you can do it, great. I never wanted to compete in this bloody tournament anyway!" Harry storms off, distantly registering that his average score for the bout is eight-point-two-five out of ten, compared with Cedric's seven-point-five out of ten. He had hoped the point differential would be larger. Merlin, even when I win, I lose.
Fuck, I'm running out of spells.
Harry barely dodges a nasty flame charm from the veela, the pink flames baking his skin with heat. While he knows several curses that he hasn't yet cast, such as reducto, confringo, and an array of limb severing, bone shattering, and organ crushing spells, after his last bout with Viktor, where Harry crippled his opponent with an overpowered blasting hex, he is loathe to tap into his heavy arsenal. The look of horror on Hermione's face as Viktor's unconscious, broken body was levitated to the hospital will stay with Harry for a long time.
Fleur casts a charm to make herself invisible. Even with his enhanced sight, Harry detects only the faintest hint of an outline. Merlin, she's great with charms. “Bola azul.” A blue splotch splatters onto the otherwise invisible witch.
Fleur utters a loud, nonmagical curse, then sends a powerful slicing hex back at Harry, the twisting scythe of silver lightning parting his hair as he ducks. Fleur scourgifies the paint from her robes and becomes hidden once again. Harry rolls away from a warbling blue hex that he doesn't recognize and he starts to spray smoke out of his wand to obscure the platform area. Fleur launches a chain of curses at Harry, including a potent invisible bludgeoning hex, which he only escapes by drawing heavily on his precognitive impulses. She screams in frustration.
Harry conjures a heavy, silver chain than spans the entire width of Fleur's platform. She uses a charm to allow her to jump unnaturally high and avoids being trapped by the leg-level flail. As she descends to the platform, she directs a glowing white arrow toward Harry, which he dodges, finding, to his chagrin, that the arrow tracks his movement and embeds in his left shoulder. He snaps the shaft nearly level with his flesh and casts an avis spell with a modifier that causes the birds to seek out the veela, also technically a bird. Noting their change in trajectory, he hurls a very mild bludgeoning curse at their destination. He hears a grunt and the sound of someone landing upon the platform. They both know he could have used a “finishing” spell, but he doesn't want to risk injuring her.
Standing, the invisible witch spits a string of imprecations that, thankfully, are not in Harry's native tongue. He only recognizes a few, which involve removing or mutilating various parts of his anatomy. “Patronizing ass!” she screams, her bloodied, now visible face more furious than Harry has ever seen her.
Fleur becomes visible, briefly, before transforming into a human-sized bird with black feathers. Her robes tear as her chest expands to make room for wings. He catches a faint glint of silver between her breasts before feathers obscure her skin. In her left wing, she summons a large globe of fire and hurls it at him. Harry leaps to the side, but like the arrow before, the ball of orange flame follows his movements. After a second, unsuccessful dodge and forward roll, he is struck on the back as it explodes in an inferno that singes his robes and blisters his skin. He moans in agony before his flame-freezing spell diminishes the blaze.
The avian veela starts to revert to human form, her feathers slowly receding into her skin. Harry stumbles to his feet and makes an overhand motion with his wand, twirling it, pointing it downward, and following with an upward, diagonal flick. I have to know. He is blinded, momentarily, as the visum enhancement flares.
In the afterglow, Harry sees on his opponent's chest a solitary, silver rune the size of his fist: a stylized dagger within a rose, surrounded by a circle. He finds himself transfixed by the Rosicrucian control glyph.
“Frango ós!”
A writhing, yellow beam shatters his femur.
A/N: I regret that aspects of this chapter did not turn out as some had hoped, as articulated in reviews and PM. Please bear with me--I ask that before abandoning the story, you read for one chapter more. Robért and Harry meet in the next chapter and offer needed closure on what has transpired.