You are the only Flower of my Life

Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of You Are the Only Flower of My Life.

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Chapter 9 (The Flask and The Map) and Chapter 10 (Siriusly Watching) are already available for Patrons.

Harry stood at the front of the Hogwarts grounds, his hand intertwined with Fleur's. His heart was beating faster than it had during the first task with the Hungarian Horntail. Meeting the French Minister of Magic – who happened to be his girlfriend's father – was somehow more daunting than facing a dragon.

"'Arry," Fleur squeezed his hand, "you are shaking."

"Am I?" Harry tried to laugh it off, but it came out more like a nervous chuckle. "I just... I want them to like me."

Fleur turned to face him, her silvery-blonde hair catching the winter sunlight. "They will love you, mon cœur. Just be yourself – ze boy who captured my 'eart with 'is beautiful voice and kind soul."

Harry felt warmth spread through his chest at her words. He straightened his shoulders, remembering that he had faced worse. He was a Gryffindor, after all.

"Look!" Fleur suddenly pointed skyward, her face lighting up. "Zey are 'ere!"

Harry's eyes widened as he saw what could only be described as a house-sized carriage gliding through the air, pulled by a dozen magnificent Abraxan horses. Their powerful wings caught the sunlight, making them appear to shimmer like fresh snow. Several students who had been walking nearby stopped to stare at the spectacular arrival.

The massive horses touched down, freezing the nearby grass. Their hooves barely made a sound on the frost-covered grass. The carriage, painted powder blue and decorated with golden accents that matched Beauxbatons' aesthetic, came to a gentle stop before them.

Before the door could properly open, it burst outward, and a silver blur shot out like a spell from a wand.

"'ARRY POTTER!" A high-pitched voice squealed in delight.

Fleur had opened her arms, expecting to embrace her sister, but Gabrielle Delacour had other plans. The eight-year-old girl launched herself directly at Harry, wrapping her arms around his waist and speaking rapid-fire French.

"Tu es tellement plus beau en personne! J'ai lu tous les livres sur toi! Est-ce que c'est vrai que tu as combattu un basilic? Et un dragon? Est-ce que je peux voir ta cicatrice?"

Harry looked helplessly at Fleur, who was trying to suppress her laughter.

"She says you are more 'andsome in person," Fleur translated, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "She 'as read all ze books about you and wants to know if it's true about ze dragon. And she wants to see your scar."

"Gabrielle!" Fleur gently admonished her sister. "Laisse-le respirer. Tu auras le temps de lui poser tes questions plus tard." ("Let him breathe. You'll have time to ask him your questions later.")

Gabrielle reluctantly released Harry but remained bouncing on her toes beside him, looking up at him with pure adoration in her eyes that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Colin Creevey.

From the carriage emerged two figures that made Harry's mouth go dry. Apolline Delacour was essentially an older version of Fleur, radiating the same ethereal beauty that came with their Veela heritage. She wore elegant powder-blue robes that seemed to float around her as she moved.

Sebastian Delacour was a tall, distinguished-looking man with pepper-gray hair and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Despite being the French Minister of Magic, he wore relatively casual robes in deep navy blue, and his whole demeanor spoke of warmth rather than authority.

"Ma petite fleur," Sebastian embraced his daughter, kissing both her cheeks. His accent was less pronounced than Fleur's. "You look radiant."

"Papa," Fleur beamed, then turned to gesture at Harry. "'Zis is 'Arry."

Harry stepped forward, extending his hand formally. "It's an honor to meet you, Minister Delacour."

Sebastian laughed, a rich, warm sound that immediately put Harry more at ease. He shook Harry's hand with a smile. "Please, call me Sebastian. We are not in the Ministry, and any young man who makes my daughter smile like that is family."

"Sebastian!" Apolline chided playfully, stepping forward. "Let me meet the young man who has captured our Fleur's heart." She kissed Harry's cheeks in greeting. "We have heard so much about you in Fleur's letters."

Harry felt his face heat up. "All good things, I hope?"

"Oh, more than good," Sebastian's eyes twinkled. "Though I must admit, when she first wrote about you, she called you a 'little boy.' But then her next letter was full of praise for your bravery with the dragon, and then your voice..."

"Papa!" Fleur interrupted, looking mortified. "'Arry, I am so sorry about zat first letter..."

Harry laughed, feeling more relaxed. "It's okay, Fleur. You've more than made up for it since then."

"Harry, I understand you created a new spell for the upcoming task? Respirare Aquatius? Most impressive for a fourth-year student."

Harry brightened. "Yes, sir – I mean, Sebastian. It allows for underwater breathing and clear hearing. Fleur helped me perfect it."

"Ah, but it was your idea," Fleur said proudly. "You should 'ave seen 'im, Papa."

"Speaking of the task," Apolline interjected, "perhaps we should move this conversation somewhere warmer? The grounds are rather chilly."

"Oh!" Harry started. "Yes, of course. Would you like to see the castle? I could give you a tour before dinner?"

"That would be lovely," Sebastian smiled. "I've always wanted to see Hogwarts properly. The architecture is quite different from Beauxbatons."

As they began walking toward the castle, Gabrielle slipped her small hand into Harry's free one, as his other was still holding Fleur's. She looked up at him with adoring eyes.

"Is it true you flew against a dragon?" she asked in her careful English.

"Oui," Fleur answered for him, "and 'e was magnificent. 'E outflew ze 'orntail like it was nothing."

"Not nothing," Harry said modestly. "I was terrified the whole time."

"Yet you did it anyway," Sebastian observed. "That, Harry, is true courage."

Harry felt a warm glow of pride at these words. As they approached the castle entrance, several students stopped to stare at the unusual group – particularly at the French Minister of Magic walking casually through their school.

"I must say," Sebastian continued, "I was quite concerned when Fleur's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. But knowing she has someone like you watching out for her... it eases a father's worries."

"Papa," Fleur rolled her eyes, "I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can, ma petite fleur. But it's nice to know you have support." He turned to Harry. "Though I am curious about one thing – how did you manage to create that spell? The theoretical wandwork alone..."

As Harry launched into an explanation of the spell's development, with Fleur adding details about their practice sessions in the Black Lake, he realized his nervousness had completely disappeared. The Delacours weren't at all what he had expected from a Minister's family. They were warm, genuine, and seemed to actually care about getting to know him – not as The Boy Who Lived, but as the boy their daughter had fallen for.

Gabrielle continued to pepper him with questions, which Fleur translated when necessary, while Apolline and Sebastian shared knowing looks at their younger daughter's enthusiasm. As they entered the castle proper, Harry felt Fleur squeeze his hand gently.

"See?" she whispered. "I told you zey would love you."

Harry smiled, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this summer in France wouldn't be so scary after all. As they passed a window, he caught sight of Ron watching them from afar, his face a mix of jealousy and longing, but Harry couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. For once in his life, things were going right, and he had people who seemed to genuinely care about him.

"And in the Forbidden Forest," Fleur was saying to her parents, "is where 'Arry first showed me 'is Patronus charm. 'E taught me 'ow to cast it."

"A Patronus?" Sebastian's eyebrows shot up. "At your age? That's extremely advanced magic."

"It's not that impressive," Harry said modestly. "Professor Lupin taught me last year because of the dementors."

"Non, it is very impressive," Apolline corrected gently. "Fleur wrote that yours takes the form of a stag?"

"Yes, Prongs," Harry nodded. "Named after my father's animagus form."

"And Fleur's is an eagle," Gabrielle piped up proudly. "Elle l'appelle EtoLia!"

"An interesting name," Sebastian mused. "Any particular reason?"

Fleur blushed slightly. "It means 'Star Wings' in a way. Because... well, because of ze night 'Arry and I first..."

She trailed off, her cheeks pink, but her parents seemed to understand, sharing another knowing look.

"Perhaps," Sebastian said diplomatically, "we should see the Great Hall next? I'm curious to see these famous enchanted ceiling Fleur has written about."

As they walked, Harry couldn't help but notice how natural it felt, being with Fleur's family. There was none of the tension he always felt with the Dursleys, none of the walking on eggshells or fear of saying the wrong thing. Even Sebastian, despite being one of the most powerful political figures in magical Europe, treated him like... well, like a normal person.

"Oh, and 'Arry," Apolline said as they approached the Great Hall, "we've already prepared your room for the summer. It's next to Fleur's – though with a proper distance and monitoring charms, of course." She added the last part with a twinkle in her eye that made both Harry and Fleur blush furiously.

"Maman!" Fleur protested, while Gabrielle looked confused and Sebastian tried to hide his amusement behind a cough.

As they walked through the castle corridors, Sebastian fell into step beside Harry, his demeanor relaxed and friendly.

"So, Harry, besides creating impressive spells and charming my daughter, what do you enjoy doing? Are you a Quidditch fan, perhaps?"

Harry's eyes lit up immediately. "Yes, sir – Sebastian! I love Quidditch. I've been Gryffindor's Seeker since my first year."

"First year?" Sebastian's eyebrows rose in genuine interest. "That's quite unusual, isn't it? Most schools don't allow first-years on the team."

"It was a bit of an accident, actually," Harry grinned, remembering. "During our first flying lesson, another student took something of my friend's and flew off with it. I'd never been on a broom before, but I just... went after him."

"Ahh, natural talent then!" Sebastian laughed. "You know, I played Seeker myself back in my Beauxbatons days."

"Really?" Harry's entire demeanor shifted from polite interest to genuine excitement.

"Les garçons et leur Quidditch," ("Boys and their Quidditch,") Fleur muttered fondly, rolling her eyes at her mother, who smiled knowingly.

"Indeed," Sebastian continued, ignoring his daughter's comment. "I wasn't bad, if I do say so myself. Though I doubt I could have outmaneuvered a Hungarian Horntail. That was quite something, Harry. Fleur showed us the memory in our Pensieve."

Harry blushed slightly. "You watched that?"

"Of course! When our daughter writes that her boyfriend performed one of the most impressive pieces of flying she's ever seen, we had to see it for ourselves." Sebastian's eyes twinkled. "Though I must admit, I nearly had a heart attack watching it. That Wronski Feint you pulled to dodge the tail spike? Magnificent."

"You know about the Wronski Feint?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Know about it? I tried to perform it in my final year and ended up in the hospital wing for three days!" Sebastian chuckled. "My team captain nearly murdered me."

Gabrielle, who had been bouncing between various family members, piped up. "Papa était terrible! Maman dit qu'elle ne pouvait pas le regarder jouer!"

Fleur translated for Harry: "She says Papa was terrible, and Maman couldn't watch him play."

"Your mother exaggerates," Sebastian defended himself good-naturedly. "I only fell off my broom... what was it, ma chérie?" He looked at Apolline.

"Twelve times in one season," Apolline supplied with a fond smile. "I counted."

"Twelve times isn't so bad," Harry offered supportively. "I've had my share of accidents too. In my first year, my broom got jinxed and tried to throw me off."

"A jinxed broom?" Sebastian's casual tone couldn't quite hide his concern. "That's extremely dangerous. Who would..."

"Oh, we thought it was Professor Snape at first," Harry said, then quickly added, "but it turned out to be someone else trying to kill me, and Professor Snape was actually trying to save me with a counter-curse."

There was a moment of silence before Sebastian said dryly, "You know, Harry, most people would consider that explanation more alarming, not less."

Harry laughed. "I suppose I've gotten used to it. Though this year has been nice – well, except for the dragon. And the upcoming task in the lake. And whatever the third task will be..."

"'Arry," Fleur interrupted, "you are not 'elping your case."

"Speaking of cases," Sebastian smoothly changed the subject, "do you follow any professional Quidditch teams, Harry?"

"I support the Chudley Cannons!" Harry said automatically, then caught himself. "I mean, I used to, because my friend Ron... well, nowadays I'm more interested in the Holyhead Harpies' playing style."

Sebastian nodded knowingly. "Ah yes, the Cannons. They're having a bit of a... century-long rough patch, aren't they? The Harpies are a much better choice. Though personally, I've always been partial to the Quiberon Quafflepunchers."

"The French team with the bright pink robes?" Harry asked, remembering something he'd read in "Quidditch Through the Ages."

"The very same! You know your teams. Though I must say, their current Seeker couldn't spot the Snitch if it nested in his hair."

"Papa," Fleur sighed dramatically, "please do not start with ze Quidditch statistics. You will bore poor 'Arry to death."

"On the contrary," Harry grinned, "I'd love to hear more about French Quidditch. The only international match I've seen was the World Cup this summer."

"Ah, that was quite a match!" Sebastian's eyes lit up. "Though the ending was... unfortunate. But that move Krum pulled with the Snitch..."

"Les voilà parties," ("There they go,") Apolline murmured to Fleur. "We won't get a sensible word out of either of them now."

For the next twenty minutes, as they toured the castle, Harry and Sebastian discussed everything from famous Seeker moves to memorable matches. Sebastian shared stories about his own Quidditch days, including a particularly hilarious incident involving a miscast Cushioning Charm that had him bouncing around the pitch like a rubber ball.

"You should come flying with us sometime, Sebastian," Harry suggested. "Fleur and I often go flying around the castle. The view from above is amazing."

"You take my daughter flying?" Sebastian asked, his tone curious rather than concerned.

"Oui, Papa," Fleur interjected. "'Arry is an excellent flyer. I feel completely safe with 'im."

"I'm very careful," Harry assured quickly. "We never go too high or too fast."

Sebastian laughed. "Harry, I saw you outfly a dragon. I have no doubts about your flying abilities. Though I might take you up on that offer this summer. Our estate has some excellent flying space."

"Really?" Harry's eyes lit up.

"Of course! We have several acres of magically protected land. Perfect for flying without worrying about Muggle eyes. And Gabrielle is just learning to fly herself – perhaps you could give her some pointers?"

Gabrielle, who had been relatively quiet during the Quidditch discussion, suddenly perked up. "Vraiment? Tu vas m'apprendre à voler, 'Arry?"

"She's asking if you'll teach her to fly," Fleur translated, though Harry had gotten the gist.

"I'd love to," Harry smiled at the excited young girl. "As long as your parents are okay with it?"

"Of course," Apolline said warmly. "Though perhaps with less acrobatics than you displayed against the dragon?"

"Definitely less acrobatics," Harry agreed with a laugh. "Basic flying techniques only."

"Et des loopings?" ("And loops?") Gabrielle asked hopefully.

"Non," both her parents said firmly, making everyone laugh.

"You know," Sebastian said thoughtfully, "watching you with Gabrielle, Harry... you have a natural way with children. Have you ever considered teaching?"

Harry blinked, surprised. "Teaching? I... well, I helped Fleur with her Patronus, and I'm helping some friends with Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I never really thought about it as a career."

"You should," Sebastian said seriously. "From what Fleur tells me, you have a gift for it. And the world always needs good teachers."

"Papa is right," Fleur added. "You are very patient when teaching. And you explain things clearly."

Harry felt warmth spread through his chest at their words. No one had ever really talked to him about his future before, at least not in such a practical, supportive way.

"Though of course," Sebastian added with a twinkle in his eye, "if teaching doesn't work out, you could always try professional Quidditch. With those flying skills..."

"Oh non," Fleur groaned. "Now you've done it, Papa. 'E will be impossible to live with."

"Me?" Harry protested with mock indignation. "I'm hurt, Fleur."

Sebastian watched this interaction with obvious approval. "You know, Harry, when Fleur first wrote about dating a fourteen-year-old boy, I was... concerned. But seeing you two together... you're good for each other."

"The best thing that's ever happened to me," Harry said softly, looking at Fleur.

"Flatteur," she murmured, but her eyes were shining.

"Now then," Sebastian clapped his hands together, "I believe you promised to show us this famous Great Hall. And perhaps afterward, you can tell me more about that remarkable Firebolt of yours. I've been thinking of getting one myself..."

"Sebastian," Apolline warned, "you are not getting another racing broom. You nearly broke your neck on the last one."

"But ma chérie..."

As Sebastian playfully argued with his wife about the merits of high-speed brooms, Harry felt Fleur squeeze his hand.

"See?" she whispered. "I told you zey would love you."

Harry smiled, watching the familiar domestic scene unfold. "They're amazing. Your dad really knows his brooms."

"Oui, and mama knows exactly how to handle him," Fleur laughed softly. "You know what? We should celebrate today's success properly. Papa mentioned wanting to try that new restaurant in London - the one that just opened."

"A restaurant?" Harry asked, slightly nervous. "I've never really been to a fancy one before."

"Don't worry," Fleur assured him. "You have faced a dragon - a few forks won't be scarier than that."

Sebastian overheard them and immediately brightened, momentarily forgetting his broom argument. "Ah, excellent idea! Apolline, shall we treat our champions to dinner? The Clove Club, perhaps?"

Apolline's stern expression softened. "Now that is a much better idea than a new racing broom."

"We can go change and meet there in an hour?" Fleur suggested.

"Perfect," Sebastian agreed. "Harry, do you have something suitable to wear?"

"I... um..."

"'E has that lovely green shirt we bought in Hogsmeade," Fleur interjected. "It brings out his eyes perfectly."

Later

Later that evening, Harry found himself seated in one of London's most exclusive restaurants, The Clove Club in Shoreditch. He felt slightly out of place despite wearing his best outfit - a dark green button-down shirt and black trousers that Fleur had helped him pick out during their last Hogsmeade visit.

The Delacours looked completely at ease in the Muggle establishment. Sebastian wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that Harry suspected cost more than his entire wardrobe. Apolline was elegant in a deep blue cocktail dress, while Fleur... Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. She wore a silver dress that seemed to shimmer with every movement, her hair cascading down her back in elegant waves.

"Tu es absolument magnifique ce soir," (You are absolutely magnificent tonight) Harry whispered to her, proud that he'd been practicing his French.

Fleur's face lit up with pleasure. "Merci, mon coeur," (Thank you, my heart) she replied softly, squeezing his hand under the table.

Across from them, Gabrielle sat with a slight pout, occasionally shooting envious glances at her sister's position next to Harry. She was wearing a pretty pale blue dress and had insisted on ordering the same thing as Harry, which made him smile.

"Je veux m'asseoir à côté d'Harry!" (I want to sit next to Harry!) Gabrielle protested for the third time.

"Gabrielle," Apolline said firmly, "nous en avons déjà parlé." (We've already discussed this.)

Harry was impressed by how naturally the Delacours navigated the Muggle world. Sebastian ordered a bottle of wine with the expertise of a connoisseur, and Apolline easily discussed modern art with their waiter when he mentioned the restaurant's collection.

"I must admit," Harry said as their appetizers arrived, "I'm surprised at how comfortable you all are in the Muggle world. Most British wizards I know wouldn't know how to use a telephone, let alone dress appropriately for a Muggle restaurant."

Sebastian smiled, taking a sip of his wine. "In France, we have a different philosophy about Muggles. While we maintain the Statute of Secrecy, of course, we don't isolate ourselves completely. Many French wizards and witches have Muggle friends, invest in Muggle businesses, even vacation in Muggle resorts."

"It would be foolish to ignore their achievements," Apolline added. "Their technology, their art, their culture - they've created remarkable things without magic. And their fashion," she gestured to her dress with a smile, "is often superior to traditional wizarding robes."

"C'est vrai," (That's true) Fleur agreed. "When I first came to 'Ogwarts, I was shocked at 'ow... disconnected the British magical community is from the Muggle world."

"Les robes de Poudlard sont si démodées!" (The Hogwarts robes are so outdated!) Gabrielle chimed in, making everyone laugh.

"It's quite different at Beauxbatons," Sebastian explained. "We have mandatory Muggle Studies from first year, including practical lessons in navigating the Muggle world. It's considered essential education."

Harry thought about Mr. Weasley's well-meaning but often misguided fascination with Muggle artifacts. "That makes a lot of sense, actually. It would probably prevent a lot of awkward situations."

"Like when zat wizard at ze World Cup wore a women's nightgown because 'e thought it was Muggle clothing?" Fleur giggled.

"Exactement," (Exactly) Sebastian chuckled. "Though I must say, that story made quite a few rounds in the French Ministry."

The waiter returned with their main courses - Harry had chosen the aged duck, while Fleur had opted for the sea bass. Gabrielle, true to her word, had ordered the same as Harry, though her eyes widened slightly at the size of the portion.

"Tu peux prendre de mon dessert si tu ne finis pas ton plat," (You can have some of my dessert if you don't finish your plate) Harry offered to Gabrielle, earning a beaming smile from the young girl.

"Your French is improving, Harry," Apolline noted approvingly.

"Fleur's been teaching me," Harry said, glancing affectionately at his girlfriend. "Though I still have a long way to go."

"Oui, but you are learning quickly," Fleur said proudly. "And your accent is much better now."

"Unlike my attempt at English when I was courting Apolline," Sebastian laughed. "I once tried to tell her she looked beautiful and instead told her she looked like a beautiful goat."

"Je n'ai jamais ri aussi fort de ma vie," (I've never laughed so hard in my life) Apolline reminisced, her eyes twinkling.

As they enjoyed their meal, Harry found himself relaxing more and more. The conversation flowed easily, switching between English and French, with Fleur or Apolline occasionally translating when needed. Sebastian shared stories about his work in magical architecture, describing some of the incredible buildings he'd designed that combined magical and Muggle elements.

"You should see our home in Nice," he told Harry. "It appears as a normal Mediterranean villa to Muggles, but magically expands into quite a different structure for magical visitors. You will love it."

"Parfait!" (Perfect!) Gabrielle exclaimed. "Tu pourras m'apprendre à voler et on ira à la plage!" (You can teach me to fly and we'll go to the beach!)

"The beach?" Harry asked, looking at Fleur for confirmation.

"Oui, our villa is near the Mediterranean," Fleur explained. "We 'ave a private beach protected by magic. No Muggles can see it."

Harry tried not to think too hard about Fleur in a swimsuit on a beach - he was still having dinner with her parents, after all.

"Perhaps we should order dessert?" Sebastian suggested, smoothly changing the subject.

The evening continued pleasantly, and Harry found himself thinking that this was how family dinners should feel - warm, comfortable, and full of laughter. It was so different from the tense, formal dinners at the Dursleys or even the chaotic (though lovely) meals at the Burrow.

When the bill came, Harry reached for his wallet, but Sebastian waved him off. "Please, Harry, you're our guest. Besides," he added with a wink, "I believe the Muggle saying is 'my treat'?"

As they left the restaurant, Harry felt Fleur slip her hand into his. "Thank you for coming to dinner with my family," she said softly.

"Thank you for sharing them with me," he replied, and meant it with all his heart.

One Week Later

Over the past week, Harry had found himself growing increasingly comfortable with the Delacours. One particularly memorable afternoon, he and Sebastian were walking around the Quidditch pitch while Fleur was having lunch with her mother and sister.

"So, 'arry," Sebastian said, his accent less pronounced than his daughters', "tell me about these Muggle sports you enjoy."

"Well, I used to watch football sometimes when my cousin wasn't hogging the television," Harry explained. "It's a bit like Quidditch, but on the ground with one ball, and the players try to kick it into a goal."

Sebastian's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah yes! Football! It's quite popular in France, both magical and Muggle communities. Did you know we have a magical football league? Much less popular than Quidditch, of course, but the players enhance their boots with charms. Quite spectacular to watch."

"Really?" Harry was fascinated. "I had no idea wizards played Muggle sports."

"The British magical community is quite... traditional," Sebastian said diplomatically. "In France, we believe in taking the best from both worlds. Now, tell me about your Quidditch experiences. Fleur mentioned you're the youngest seeker in a century?"

Harry spent the next hour sharing stories about his matches, from catching the Snitch in his mouth to playing against the Hufflepuff team in a thunderstorm. Sebastian proved to be an excellent listener, occasionally sharing his own tales from his playing days at Beauxbatons.

"I once caught the Snitch while hanging upside down from my broom," Sebastian laughed. "My wife still teases me about showing off."

---

Another day, Harry took Gabrielle flying around Hogwarts. The young girl was practically bouncing with excitement as Harry helped her onto his Firebolt.

"Plus haut, Harry, plus haut!" (Higher, Harry, higher!) she squealed as they soared above the castle.

"Hold on tight," Harry cautioned, before taking them into a gentle spiral around the Astronomy Tower.

"C'est incroyable!" (This is incredible!) Gabrielle's laughter rang out across the grounds. "Je peux voir tout Poudlard!" (I can see all of Hogwarts!)

From below, Fleur and Apolline watched them, both smiling.

"Il est bon avec elle," (He is good with her) Apolline observed.

"Oui, maman. Harry est spécial." (Yes, mom. Harry is special.)

After landing, Gabrielle hugged Harry tightly. "Tu es le meilleur!" (You're the best!) she declared.

---

One evening, Harry found himself in an engaging conversation with Apolline about magical theory while they waited for Fleur to finish her meeting with Madame Maxime.

"Your new underwater breathing spell," Apolline said, "it's quite impressive for someone your age to create their own spell."

"Thank you," Harry replied modestly. "I just thought it would be more efficient than some of the other options."

"You have a creative mind, Harry. It reminds me of when Sebastian was developing his magical architecture theories. He always looked for new solutions rather than accepting traditional methods."

---

The morning of the Second Task, Harry and Fleur sat at the Gryffindor table, both trying to eat despite their nerves. Harry had noticed Hermione's absence but assumed she was in the library doing last-minute research, as was her habit.

"It's strange," Fleur said, frowning slightly. "Gabrielle was supposed to meet me for breakfast. She never misses a chance to talk about how amazing you are." She smiled teasingly at Harry.

"Maybe she's with your parents?" Harry suggested, but something felt off. "I haven't seen Hermione either."

"'Arry," Fleur said slowly, "what was it the egg said? 'We've taken what you'll sorely miss'?"

Harry's eyes widened as realization hit him. "You don't think..."

"They wouldn't..." Fleur began, but they both knew they would.

"Your sister and my best friend are probably at the bottom of the lake right now," Harry said grimly.

Fleur's hand tightened around her fork. "If anything 'appens to Gabrielle..."

"It won't," Harry assured her. "We've practiced the spell countless times. We'll get them both out safely."

Sebastian and Apolline approached their table, both looking concerned.

"We can't find Gabrielle anywhere," Apolline said worriedly.

"We think we know where she is," Harry replied, explaining their theory.

Sebastian's face darkened. "They put my youngest daughter at the bottom of a lake without consulting me? Minister or not, I would have expected them to ask permission."

"Dumbledore probably has safety measures in place," Harry said, though he shared their concern. "And our spell works perfectly. We can breathe and talk underwater as if we were on land."

"Still," Sebastian frowned, "I will be having words with your Minister Fudge about this."

"At least we know they're safe," Apolline said practically. "They wouldn't risk an international incident by harming the French Minister's daughter."

"Or risk Harry Potter's best friend," Fleur added.

They spent the next few hours going over their plan one final time. Harry and Fleur had practiced extensively in the lake, and their synchronized swimming had improved significantly. They had even developed a series of hand signals to communicate if the spell somehow failed.

"Remember," Harry said as they walked toward the lake, "if anything goes wrong, send up red sparks immediately."

"Oui, and you do the same," Fleur replied, squeezing his hand.

They reached the platform where the other champions were gathering. Viktor Krum nodded to them curtly, while Cedric gave them a friendly wave. The stands were filling up quickly, and Harry could see Minister Fudge trying to engage Sebastian in conversation, though the French Minister's responses seemed rather cool.

"I still can't believe they didn't ask permission," Sebastian was saying loudly enough for nearby officials to hear. "In France, we have procedures for such things."

Fudge was looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Well, I'm sure Dumbledore... that is to say, the tournament traditions..."

"Traditions?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Is it tradition to place underage participants in dangerous situations without parental consent?"

Harry couldn't help but smile slightly at Sebastian's protective attitude. It was nice to have someone looking out for not just him, but all the young people involved.

Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice boomed across the lake: "Welcome to the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Fleur and Harry exchanged glances. Despite their concerns about the hostages, they felt prepared.

"You know," Harry whispered to Fleur as Bagman continued his introduction, "your father asked me yesterday what song I might sing to celebrate when we succeed today."

Fleur's eyes widened. "You told him about your singing?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "Somehow, it felt right. He just nodded and said music is one of the purest forms of magic."

"He's right," Fleur replied, then grinned. "Though I notice you said 'when' we succeed, not 'if'."

"Well, with your sister and my best friend down there, failure isn't an option, is it?"

"Non, it certainly isn't."

They could see Apolline in the stands, her usual composed expression replaced by worry for her younger daughter. Sebastian had finally extracted himself from Fudge and joined his wife, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Champions, take your positions!" Bagman called out.

As Harry and Fleur moved to their starting positions, they caught each other's eyes one last time. No words were needed - they had practiced this, they were ready, and they would succeed.

"Three... two... one..."

The cannon sounded, and the Second Task began.

Just before they dove in, Harry heard Sebastian's voice carrying across the water: "Bonne chance, mes enfants!" (Good luck, Fleur, Arry!)

The inclusion of Harry in that sentiment gave him an extra boost of confidence as they plunged into the cold waters of the Black Lake, wands at the ready to cast their spell and begin their search for Hermione and Gabrielle.

The cold water enveloped them as they descended into the murky depths. Thanks to their "Respirare Aquatius" spell, they could breathe and speak normally, though they maintained silence to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Harry and Fleur swam side by side, their wands providing light in the increasingly dark waters. Schools of fish darted away from their approach, and occasionally, they glimpsed larger, more mysterious shapes moving in the distance.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, Harry spotted movement ahead. He signed to Fleur, pointing toward what appeared to be crude stone structures rising from the lake bed. As they drew closer, they could make out four floating figures, tethered by ropes to heavy stones.

Hermione and Gabrielle were there, alongside Cho Chang and a young girl Harry didn't recognize, presumably for Krum. All four appeared to be in a peaceful, enchanted sleep.

Suddenly, shapes emerged from the gloom - merpeople, dozens of them, their grayish skin and wild green hair giving them a fearsome appearance. They carried spears and moved with speed through the water.

One of them, wearing a crown of shells, spoke in Mermish, but thanks to their spell, Harry and Fleur could understand: "Take only what is yours. One hostage per champion."

Harry nodded and swam toward Hermione, but he noticed the merpeople's expressions changing as Fleur approached Gabrielle. Their yellow eyes narrowed, and their grip tightened on their spears.

"Veela!" one of them hissed. "Water-fouler!"

"Creature of air and fire!" another spat.

Five merpeople surrounded Fleur, their spears pointed at her. Harry remembered Fleur telling him about the ancient enmity between veela and merpeople - something about opposing elemental natures.

"Stay back!" Fleur tried to reason with them. "I just want my sister!"

"You don't belong in our domain!" a merperson snarled.

Harry had just freed Hermione, but seeing Fleur in danger, he knew he had to act. The merpeople were becoming increasingly aggressive, jabbing their spears threateningly.

Then Harry remembered the egg's song. Without thinking twice, he opened his mouth and began to sing. His voice, usually kept hidden, rang out clear and pure through the water:

"Beneath these waves where merfolk dwell,

Where water's song has cast its spell,

Let ancient feuds be washed away,

Let peace prevail beneath the spray..."

The effect was immediate and extraordinary. The merpeople froze, their weapons lowering as they turned to stare at Harry. Even the fish seemed drawn to his voice, swimming in circles around him. The water itself seemed to vibrate with the melody.

The chieftain's eyes widened. "The Voice," she whispered in awe. "It has been centuries since we heard such a song in our waters."

Fleur, seizing the opportunity, quickly began working on Gabrielle's ropes. The merpeople made no move to stop her, still transfixed by Harry's song. He continued singing, hoping this effect would not end suddenly.

Fleur finally freed Gabrielle, pulling her sister close.

As they began their ascent, Fleur swimming close to Harry while holding Gabrielle, she whispered, "That was incredible, 'Arry. I've never heard anything like it."

"Well," Harry replied, slightly embarrassed, "I couldn't let them hurt you, could I?"

They were the first to break the surface, emerging to thunderous applause from the crowd. As they swam toward the platform, Harry could see Sebastian and Apolline rushing forward to help them out of the water.

"Magnifique!" Sebastian exclaimed, helping Harry up while Apolline pulled Fleur and Gabrielle to safety. "We could hear your song even from up here!"

Indeed, the entire crowd was buzzing with excitement. Even Dumbledore looked impressed, his eyes twinkling as he helped Hermione, who was just beginning to wake up.

"The merpeople..." Fleur explained to her parents as they wrapped her and Gabrielle in warm towels, "they weren't going to let me near Gabrielle. But 'Arry... his voice... it was like nothing I've ever heard."

Gabrielle, now awake, was looking at Harry with even more adoration than before. "You saved us both!" she exclaimed in French, hugging him tightly despite being soaking wet.

Madame Pomfrey fussed over all of them, insisting they drink Pepper-Up Potion. Steam began pouring from their ears, causing Gabrielle to giggle.

The other champions were just now surfacing - Cedric with Cho, and Krum, half-transformed into a shark, with the other girl. But all eyes remained on Harry and Fleur.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore approached them, speaking quietly so others couldn't hear, "it seems you have quite a remarkable gift. The merchieftainess just told me it's been centuries since they've heard such singing in their waters."

Harry blushed. "I just didn't want them to hurt Fleur, sir."

"Love," Dumbledore smiled, "expressed through music, is one of the most powerful forms of magic there is." He patted Harry's shoulder and moved away to consult with the other judges.

Hermione, now fully awake, was looking at Harry with a mixture of pride and exasperation. "So now the whole school knows about your voice," she said. "Are you okay with that?"

Harry looked around at the Delacours - Sebastian discussing something animatedly with Apolline, Fleur leaning against him while holding a still-excited Gabrielle - and smiled. "You know what? I think I am."

Fleur squeezed his hand. "They're announcing the scores soon, but I don't even care. We did it together, and that's what matters."

"Plus," Harry grinned, "I think we just improved veela-merpeople relations more than anyone has in centuries."

"Leave it to you to make magical history while trying to save your girlfriend," Hermione laughed.

As they waited for the scores, Harry felt a deep sense of contentment. He'd faced his fear of sharing his voice, saved both his best friend and his girlfriend's sister, and somehow managed to broker peace between ancient magical races - all before lunch.

Sebastian leaned over to him. "When we get back to France this summer, remind me to show you our magical music room. I think you'll find it quite interesting."

Harry nodded, realizing that for the first time in his life, he was actually looking forward to summer.

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