Fleur Delacour had a sickle. And with it, she threw her wish into the well “So what’d you wish for?” “Don’t ask me, ‘Arry,” she started. “I’ll never tell.” She turned to the voice as the coin fell. Fleur groaned. His pouting face, begging for her to spill…
Fleur Delacour was scared. She had taken her avian form in front of Harry. She averted her eyes away from him, desperately wishing that he didn’t see her like this. Harry didn’t care. He stepped forward, slowly. Step by step. In a fit of panic, flames eme…