The situation in Britain was growing ever darker. Despite Dumbledore’s and the Order’s best efforts, Voldemort was gaining ever more power. His ranks swelled and his key followers demonstrated powers never seen before, obviously being taught by their dark master. Harry and his friends, aside from studying, were doing their best to prepare for the coming tide of Darkness.
Among said friends was also the enigmatic Fleur Delacour. Ever since the harrowing Tri-Wizard Tournament they have been friends. Tentative at first, their friendship quickly blossomed. Many in the castle cast envious glances at Harry and Fleur, asked him how he snatched the beautiful part-veela. And then they looked unbelievingly at him when told that there was only friendship between them. It was true that sometimes, there was a shade of longing in her gaze, an odd tone in her voice.
However, despite spending much time either together or communicating through mail, despite getting to know each other well, they remained as “just” friends. And Harry valued her steadfast friendship, especially when she returned to Britain the next year to join the Order of the Phoenix.
His friend worried him the last few days, seemingly nervous, casting furtive glances all around. And when he caught up tor in an abandoned classroom, the odd situation continued. She asked him whether he truly trusted her. At his firm confirmation she seemed to steel herself and asked him to meet her at the castle gates after dark.
Bathed in the light of the crescent moon, Fleur led him to the Forbidden Forest, all the way hurriedly instructing him.
“You will get on a strange path. Keep going, do not let yourself get distracted, Harry.” She squeezed his hand beseechingly. “You will be tested, challenged, you must never stray from the path. And when you get to the end…” She swallowed nervously, “Just be yourself. Be who I know you to be.”
She led him to a small, curiously shaped lake in the forest. It was narrow and seemed bent like a bow. Before he could ask any questions, she gave him a sudden push. Instead of finding himself wet, he passed through the water. There was a flash of light and a twisting sensation. Suddenly, he found himself lying face-first on a cobbled path. Although he was still surrounded by trees, there could be no doubt. This was a different forest.
The sounds were different, the trees more vibrant, the undergrowth deeper. And he felt observed. There were many eyes among the trees. Following his instincts and his friend’s instructions, he went on.
Many challenges he faced, but he continued on, undeterred. Whispers, voices, shriek, all that tried to rattle him. Mist descended and tried to lead him astray. A pack of snarling wolves appeared to threaten him. Yet he had his trusty wand with him and so, be it with wits, courage or humility, he passed through unmolested.
A unicorn joined him after some time and escorted him until he arrived at a gate of wrought silver. He spent a moment admiring the ornate leaves and decorations before his equine escort nudged him to open the gate.
Inside he found a clear meadow with a familiar looking lake in the shape of a crescent moon. It seemed to shine with its own silvery light, the water was clear and the bottom was of solid white marble. It was the wondrous figure standing on the shore, however, that caught his attention. Tall and graceful, she, for it was undeniably a she, wore a flowing bright white dress, her skin radiant. Her flowing locks resembled nothing more than moonbeams given substance, a silvery circlet rested on her head, putting the crest of the crescent moon in the middle of her forehead.
She was familiar. This was Fleur. Fleur as he dreamed of her sometimes, but somehow more. Much like with Fleur, conversation between them started easily. She had the same speech pattern, the same mannerisms. And under the magical light of the unusually bright moon, they talked.
She revealed her reasons for bringing him here, her story. It began when the world was much younger when hen her mother, the Faerie Queen and the future first Queen of Summer had her. It was not with her husband, though. For her sister, the jealoufuture s Queen of Winter had played a cunning, twisted trick, beguiling and enchanting a young faerie knight to assume the form of the Faerie King and leading him to the Queen of Summer. It was at this lake where she was conceived.
When the Faerie King found out, he was furious and cursed her to forever stay at the lake where she was conceived. The Queen’s sister was driven to exile with many of her followers going with her. The Faerie Court of Stars was sundered, forming the Summer and Winter Courts.
Yet when the now Summer King’s rage cooled down, compassion took hold of his heart. Though unable to lift his curse, he amended it, she would be free when she could freely give her heart to a suitor worthy of her hand.
Though imprisoned here, her mother taught her much and her powers were not to be denied. When she was scrying to experience the world at least in such a limited way, she found the Delacours, Apolline was a descendant of a Summer courtier. She and her husband were good people and had been trying for a child for years. Finally, Apolline had been with child, but she could see it would have been born stillborn. And so, utilizing all her mother had taught her, she sent a sliver of herself into the baby. And so Fleur was born, alive and well, carrying her in her head and heart. Through Fleur, she got to experience the love of a family, the joys and grief of a mortal life. And she had met Harry.
In this lengthy conversation, another revelation shook Harry. The secret of Voldemort’s newfound power and prowess was a deal he struck with the Winter Court and various beings of the Nether Realms. By doing this, he became her bitter enemy too, for she harboured deep enmity for the Winter Court. And so, she offered him a pact. She would lend him her favour, a sliver of her non-negligible power. And he would go and defeat his foe. In doing so, he would undeniably prove himself worthy in the eyes of the ancient curse.
Should he succeed, she vowed to him, she would join him, bind herself to him in good and bad. Fleur, he was assured, would go on with her life, still his friend, and live long and prosper.
At her gesture, the luminous water rippled until it seethed and boiled. A pearlescent hilt with a coin shaped pommel bearing the crescent crest, rose slowly from the water, followed by a gleaming, milky white blade, keener than any weapon of mortal make. “So? Will you take up the sword?”