Chapter 3: Illumination

Table of Contents

Hey all, hope you enjoy the new chapter. I will say that this will be by far the heaviest chapter of this story emotionally speaking. I did try to brighten it up a little here and there, but I thought it would be the best way to set up a satisfying fluffy conclusion. Expect lots of lovey dovey stuff next chapter is what I'm trying to say :)

Special thanks to the Flowerpot discord (check my AN for chapter 2 for more info), to Emily, without whom I would not have begun writing in the first place, and to HonorverseFan who was my fantastic beta. If you like my writing, you'll love his as well!

On with the show!

Chapter 3: Illumination

Hogwarts Grounds

Though the brisk Scottish November air bit at the skin and forewarned the approaching frigid winter, the sun was high in the sky and offered some relief to those who had chosen to enjoy the cloudless day. The cerulean sky seemed to hum with delight, stretching like a cat over the lightly snow-capped mountains, lending its reflection to the calm, deep waters of the lake, and settling upon the far-sighted horizon. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students alike meandered alone or in small groups, the foreign visitors having established a tentative routine, no longer strangers to this land but yet still to claim it for themselves.

Two of these youth in particular cut a dashing scene, interrupting the gentle tranquility of this midday snapshot, the intensity of their purpose drawing the attention of several startled students. It was not merely the vigor of their movements, but the sheer strangeness of their partnership that had attracted the curious observation of the few passersby.

Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter strode forth, not quite bursting out of the giant wooden outer doors of the castle, but there was nothing ambling about their pace. They spoke in hushed whispers, a look of focused intensity apparent on the blonde's delicately elfin features.

"I 'ave told you already zat we must wait to discuss zis where zhere are fewer wandering ears," she explained, her voice straining to keep her volume to a bare minimum.

Her counterpart on the other hand was notable in his bewilderment, seeming as if swept by the riptide of his circumstances, yet had the defiant eyes of one determined to ride them out regardless.

"And I told you already that we are drawing too much attention to ourselves." Harry gestured meaningfully at a pair of irritated Durmstrang students they had just rudely brushed past. "Believe me, I've done enough sneaking around to know how to keep a secret. The trick is to be secretive , Fleur."

"'Arry, would you kindly keep your sarcasm to a bearable level for the moment, as you evidently do not know 'ow important zis is." Fleur knew that he was right, but she could barely contain the whirlwind of her thoughts. There was one thing she knew- that the sooner they had made it to the safety of her room in the carriage the better.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry for wanting to at least know the bare essentials of what I'm getting myself into!" Harry was becoming more irritated by the moment, he had barely been able to get a word out of the blonde-haired champion the entire way down from the classroom. "I still don't understand why we couldn't have talked after the ceremony, we were alone, Fleur!"

They were so close, Fleur thought, just a hundred meters now, they had reached the beach at least.

"Are you even listening? Why am I even following you?"

Fleur hadn't slowed down one bit their entire walk, but now that the Beauxbatons carriage was finally in sight she chose that moment to whirl around, eyes glowing brighter than the blue sky and magic spiking, exclaiming in irritation.

" Tu es impossible!" All pretenses of keeping quiet were forgotten. Let the others talk, she thought, we have more vital things to worry about. Despite this thought, she was relieved to note that she and Harry were relatively alone, only accompanied by the lake itself and a few patches of heather flowers growing in the grass near the beach.

Harry evidently shared her sentiments and raised his voice to match. "I'm impossible? Me? The one being taken for a joyride by a crazy magical being who is half a second away from roasting me into Harry au poive? I disagree!"

"Oui, impossible! Barbaric, impatient, 'alf-witted, zey are all ze same to me, you are not listening to me!"

"Look, the only reason I am here is because you asked me to be, and because you said you could explain what was going on with me. If you can't do that, and if you can't even have the decency to be honest with me, then why should I stay?" Harry matched her glare with a withering look of his own.

She took a deep breath, calming herself as Harry's words reminded her of his earlier claim of being able to sense her magic. To be able to sense all magic. A claim that she was crazy enough to believe. Well, she thought sardonically, desperation drives us to believe crazy things, she just hoped she was right.

She continued with less vitriol but remained firm, "Zis magical being will be sharing with you something zat no non-Veela 'as learned in over 'alf a century. I told you you 'ave no idea 'ow important what you said is to me, to my people." Her countenance sagged as the weight of their situation sunk into the pit of her stomach. "Please, let me do zis properly, I cannot do zis alone. I need ze help to explain to you."

Harry's eyes widened. The Fleur Delacour he had first met in passing had been haughty and composed, almost relishing the pedestal that she had been put upon by her peers. The Fleur Delacour he had begun to know was warm and witty, passionate and quick to anger, yet kind and charming as well. This Fleur Delacour…

She looked at him imploringly, a watery vulnerability in those eyes that he had never expected to see, a weakness that caused his magic to recoil at the wrongness of it. Why had he been so rash? How had this French witch gotten under his skin so easily?

Harry unclenched his fists and took a deep breath of his own. "I'm sorry Fleur, I was only thinking of myself." He stopped, wondering if he should say more or if it would merely come off as an attempt to excuse his actions, but he decided it was important that she knew.

"Look, since entering the magical world I've been told that I have to live up to something, be something for all these other people to look up to, but at the same time… Whenever a situation gets hairy and I find myself in danger, my friends in danger, nobody ever has any explanation for me. Either it's something like this tournament where nobody bloody knows and I just have to deal with it, or people do know and don't even care to inform me." an image of his godfather Sirius flashed in his brain, "And it's been a lot to handle. I'm sorry for taking that out on you."

She had closed her eyes as he had been talking, and when she opened them again, they lacked the unsteady fragility of before, and her magic was pulsing with acceptance, a tickle of warmth growing as she stepped closer to him.

"Zank you for sharing zat wiz me, 'Arry. I am also sorry for not being completely open wiz you, but I promise it is for good reason." She took the black-haired teen's hands in her own, and neither could deny the tingle of heat as their magic strained to mingle with each other, held back by the inhibitions of their respective owners.

She continued, "'Arry, I cannot deny zat if I am right, zen what I am about to tell you will be anozzer responsibility on your hands. One zat none can take from you, one zat will change ze way you see ze world. Not many will be able to 'elp you, but I promise." She took a moment to truly look into Harry's eyes.

For a moment she was lost in a sea of emerald green and her mind was impulsively transported to a memory of the last day of her childhood innocence, the day her grandmother had sat her down to talk.

They were sitting together in the resplendent white sands of a beach near Cannes, the red-orange glow of the sunset bathing them in its warmth, the final days of summer upon them. Fleur was to leave for Beauxbatons in a week's time and it was the beginning of her journey into the world. For the first time, her family would not be with her to guide her, and her grandmother had deemed it time to share the crucial truths that burden every modern Veela.

Fleur had sat, wide-eyed and unblinking as her grandmother lovingly but sternly impressed upon her the gravity of their shared history, and she was struggling to process all that she had learned.

Her grandmother had been silent for some time, her lightly wrinkled hands weaving trails through Fleur's soft blonde hair. To this day Fleur repeated this gesture to soothe herself, to feel the touch of her wonderful grandmother when she needed a break from the stress.

Wide blue eyes gazed up at the older woman whose own were similar in color yet weathered by experience; love, pain, anger, compassion, and above all life had lived in those eyes. It was with no small amount of reluctance did she accept that her innocent granddaughter would one day too have eyes like hers.

For now, however, they sat. The white foam of the crashing waves bubbled atop the sand, the gulls cried as they searched for an easy meal, and the setting sun grew lower in the sky. Life never paused despite the changes in perspective any one being may have.

Innocent met experienced, blue met blue. "Mamie."

" Oui, mon petit?"

" How will I know?"

For the first time since starting their conversation Fey Celine's face brightened in mirth, "Oh mon petit, you will know. Sometimes you must learn a man's character through experience. Sometimes it takes but a single look in his eyes. But when the time comes, you will know. I promise."

Fleur Delacour knew. "I promise zat no matter what happens, I… My family and I will 'elp you. In any way we can."

Harry could feel his magic settle in his diaphragm, it beckoned him forward and he was filled with such emotion that all he could do was nod his head. He knew that he had just made a decision that would change his life, he didn't need the captivating champion in front of him to confirm that. Harry Potter knew.

Fleur gave him a small, private smile and let go of his hands reluctantly. They had been so warm to the touch, she thought idly.

"Now, come to ze carriage, Harry. You will soon know everything."

Fleur's Bedroom

Harry didn't know what to expect out of Fleur's room, so he wasn't sure if he should be disappointed to see that it was fairly normal. A four-poster bed sat in the corner, curtains halfway drawn with multiple shades of blue adorning the curtains and unmade sheets. A bedside table with a half-finished glass of water perched precariously close to the edge next to a framed moving photograph of who could only be Fleur's family.

Several blouses, sets of robes, and undergarments lay strewn on the floor, but if Fleur was embarrassed, she gave no indication. She had simply waved her wand and they were sent into a hamper near the bed without a second thought.

There was a reading desk with more photographs; quills, tubs of ink, and parchment were in mostly organized piles and a few textbooks were in a stack on top as well. What had captured Fleur's attention, however, was a grand mahogany bookshelf in the corner opposite the bed.

Fleur beckoned Harry to follow as she perused her bookshelf, obviously looking for a single tome in particular.

"Make yourself comfortable 'Arry, I'm sorry that there is but one chair…" She stopped for a moment as a movement out of the corner of her eye captured her attention. She turned and stifled a surprised gasp as Harry had conjured a comfortable-looking cushioned chair that even matched her room's décor.

Catching Fleur's look of surprise Harry merely raised an eyebrow. He was proud of his conjuration skills; he had casually produced a NEWT-worthy piece of magic, but he knew it was not the time to sing his own praises. He sat down casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Turning back to her bookshelf Fleur continued, "Anyway, ze book zat I am looking for… It is... Ah, here!" She bent over and plucked a surprisingly basic looking text that was decorated in primary colors and had a picture of a childishly drawn man in the clouds. It was a children's book.

Noticing Harry's look of skepticism, Fleur walked towards the black-haired youth and with a wave of her own wand, the chair had lengthened into a loveseat. She sat next to him and turned so that she was facing him, her knees tucked to her chest. Harry imitated her position so that they could face each other and noted absently that their feet were nearly touching and the coil in his chest hummed in approval. That really shouldn't make his magic sing like this, right?

Fleur noticed the direction of his gaze, and he could have sworn he saw her cheeks tinge with a dusting of pink, but she soon turned her attention to the book.

"Zis is L'Homme qui est Devenu le Ciel , or The Man Who Became the Sky in your uncultured tongue," she said with a smirk. "Yes, zis is but a fairy tale for ze children, but it 'as its roots in one of ze Veela's most treasured 'istories." She cast a quick translation charm over the book and handed over the book to Harry.

Harry nodded acceptance as he reached out to grab the book. "So what is the fairy tale about then?" He flipped through the colorfully illustrated pages, catching images of a poorly drawn wizard interacting with all manners of magical creatures from dragons, griffins, hippogriffs, and even…

"Yes, Veela make an appearance, but we are much more enchanting in ze flesh, non?" She winked at Harry in her typical teasing fashion. "Ze story… it is mostly inconsequential to what we must talk about, a wizard lives in a village zat is being pestered by all manner of magical beings, and he makes a deal with ze King of ze Dragons in order to 'elp 'is town."

"Ze Dragon King agrees to give 'im ze power under one condition. Ze magical beings were not getting along wiz each ozzer, and zat is why zey were taking out zeir frustrations on ze humans."

"Ah, so the wizard has to go talk to all the representatives of the different races and convince them to get along?" Harry asked as he skimmed through the text.

"Oui, precisely. Ze 'ippogriffs demand a lake of fresh rainwater, I believe ze griffins want safe passage through ze field of lightning, and so on and so on. It is a very feely goody everyone lives 'appily ever after kind of story, and in ze end ze wizard goes to live in ze clouds."

Harry's eyes widened in recognition as he began to put the first of the pieces together. Protection from lightning…

Fleur continued, "Now 'arry, what can you tell me about my people, ze Veela?"

"Err, well you're very beautiful."

Fleur rolled her eyes, "Oui, oui I'm very flattered but do not zink so shallow! What else?"

"Well, I know that your magic is fiery and passionate, more potent than the ordinary witch or wizard and completely in tune with your emotions. Also that you have your avian forms, and you have control over fire when you get angry, like at the World Cup when Bulgaria's mascots got riled up."

Fleur's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of these Veela. "Zhere is a reason why many of us are in zis 'umiliating role. I am very lucky to 'ave been born in France where my people 'ave opportunities to work and live freely. In ozzer countries, my race is not so lucky."

Her sadness was palpable, but she gave Harry a wry smile and continued. "It is as you said, 'Arry. Veela are very beautiful. More zan zis, we are magical beings imbued with ze powers of love and sex, and zese powers are central to our culture and celebrations." "

Harry struggled to keep the blush from his cheeks, but was largely unsuccessful. Thankfully for his pride it seemed that Fleur was engrossed in her own story to notice.

Fleur looked down and sullenly added, her voice but a whisper, "Now tell me, 'Arry. If zis is true, zhen why is Europe not full of beautiful Veela children?"

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and this time it had nothing to do with his magic. "Fleur.., No…"

Fleur took a steadying breath. "Just over fifty years ago Gellert Grindewald," she spat the name out of her mouth with a savage hatred, "learned of a powerful secret safeguarded by our people. He took advantage of our central coven's annual Danse du Ciel ritual, when ze majority of our people came together to celebrate our connection to ze spirits of ze sky."

Fleur could not meet Harry's eyes anymore as she stared down as if transfixed in another time, another age. "Ze coven leader and 'er 'usband refused to give Grindewald the secrets he sought. In his rage… He murdered zem all… 'undreds of Veela, zeir partners, zeir children, gone in an instant, brutalized by zis Dark Lord and 'is men. Zhere were so few survivors, he nearly wiped us out."

Harry could not help but gasp at the brutality of Grindewald's actions. He had heard vaguely that Dumbledore was responsible for stopping this dark wizard's conquest of mainland Europe, but he knew little of the atrocities the German wizard had been responsible for.

Harry reached out his hand and covered Fleur's with his own, giving it an empathetic squeeze. Fleur met his eyes with a bright cerulean gaze full of sadness, her story was not over.

"Zose zat survived… Lost zeir connection to ze sky. Ze ritual was unfinished, and ze person who was to act as ze conduit for zis relationship, 'e was gone as well."

Harry's eyes widened. There was no way… Was Fleur leading up to what he thought she was? Could this be the answer he had been seeking?

"Now 'Arry, I must ask you zis before I continue. Zis is a tragic tale of my people, oui. But is zhere anyzing at all zat stands out to you? Zat has captured your attention? Zis is especially important."

She had removed her hand from underneath Harry's and captured it with both of her own. Harry could feel his magic aching to be free, to run to her, to console and protect, he just didn't know how. The warmth surrounding his hands was almost too much to bear.

"I err, had a moment with the sky about a week ago. It was in the middle of that storm the night our names came out of the cup, and I was trying to let out some of my frustration." Fleur's eyes widened, the glimmer of hope that she had dared to maintain beginning to rise to the forefront of her features.

"I just let my magic go, and I conjured a bolt of lightning… It wasn't just lightning though. I saw through the eyes of the rain, I felt the intent to soak the earth, to give life to the ground. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I know what I felt. I've been searching since then to find an explanation, but there has been nothing. Do… You think I could be connected to this story in some way?"

Fleur's hands were clenching Harry's with an extreme amount of force, and Harry winced. Fleur didn't notice, her mouth was muttering unintelligibly, and her eyes seemed miles away. "Fleur… Fleur!"

She snapped back to reality and she made precious eye contact with Harry, drinking in his presence as if he were cool rainwater in a desert. They had unwittingly scooted closer together, legs resting against legs, hands intertwined, the fairy tale book lay on the floor forgotten. Their magic was pushing the two oblivious teens together, yet both had too much on their mind to overthink their situation. For now, they knew it just felt right to be so close, as if they pondered the ramifications of their conversation.

Finally after a few minutes of silence, Fleur spoke. "I was 'oping you would say somezing like zis." She took a deep breath and continued, "I am about to tell you of the secret zat ze Dark Lord was seeking. Please understand, if I am wrong, but I really don't zink I am, my family will 'ave to take zis knowledge from your mind. It is too important to let you keep, do you understand?"

Harry nodded; he could understand that. It was as if he were telling someone about the truth about Sirius, but multiplied by a thousand. Pettigrew's betrayal had affected his own family. This… This affected the fate of an entire species.

Fleur braced herself. "Ze… Ze leader of our coven was my great-grandmother, Estelle Celine. My grandmother escaped zat 'ell wiz ze sacred texts zat belonged to 'er father. My great-grandfather was Alexandre Celine, ze last of ze true sky-elementals."

Her voice was shaking now, now that she had said it aloud, she began to truly process the gravity of the situation. She knew if she stopped talking now she would break down. "Zey gave zeir lives so my grandmother could 'ave ze faint 'ope of saving our people."

"My grandmother." Fleur choked on the word, her chaotic emotions threatening to get the better of her, "She searched 'er 'ole life for someone, anyone else wiz ze gift of ze sky. She told us of ze signs to look for, of ze close relationship wiz magic 'er papa 'ad. Ma mère, she gave up 'ope long ago."

"We used to be like angels 'Arry. You say you sense my fire and zis is good, but we also were daughters of ze sky! Since zat Voleur de lumière abandonné par Dieu stole zis from us, we 'ave but our bastardized 'alf form. Soon, even zis will disappear and ze Veela will be no more."

Tears were falling down her face, the dam was coming undone, and Harry did the only thing he could, the thing his magic was aching to do, he pulled Fleur Delacour into his arms, and she cried. She cried for the loss her grandmother suffered, the life she had spent searching, and for the overwhelming hope that finally that search would not be in vain.

Harry had lost track of time, and Fleur had passed out from her obviously emotional ordeal hours ago. Despite being in the enviable situation of having a beautiful Veela curled around his chest, his tear-soaked shirt and the massive repercussions of her story had left little space in his head for the typical hormonal reactions.

The sun which had been so high in the sky before their conversation had been whittled down to coals and embers; the only trace of it could be seen in the sliver of magenta sky visible from Fleur's window.

Harry had been idly stroking Fleur's hair as he contemplated the new revelations. He was some sort of elemental? What did that mean? Besides apparently becoming the high priest for an entire race of people overnight… Why did this stuff always happen to him? And yet…

He gazed down at the sleeping form of the captivating woman in his arms, and he found himself not caring about his own situation as much. Did he feel so connected to her because of his elemental nature? Was his magic pushing him to rectify the wrongs that had befallen the Veela people?

Even if that was true, why did Fleur's magic feel so personal? Why did it feel natural to have her aura so tightly wound around his own, as if intertwined in an intimate dance? Even now he could feel the tendrils of her magic guiding his hand through the blonde's hair, almost as if it were a cuddling canine seeking affection from the hand of its human companion. Of course, he grimaced, the Veela would have quite a few problems with being compared to a pet, even in this innocent sense.

This thought gave his stroking fingers pause until Fleur muttered in her sleep, clutching the shirt on his chest tighter and the magic around her lightly pulled on his fingertips. Sighing, he resumed his previous pattern and she settled back into his arms, a content look gracing her sleeping face.

If somebody had told him this morning that this would be how he spent his afternoon he would have referred them straight to Saint Mungo's, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred sickles.

Harry's eyelids were growing heavy, and for a moment he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, willing the anxious whirlwind of his thoughts to fade. Fleur's soft hair tickled his nose and it smelled faintly of lightly burnt caramel, sweet and scorched. His magic seemed to purr as he finally allowed himself to relax and enjoy what that little coiled ball in his core had been yearning for all along.

Harry drifted off to sleep content, the consequences of his newfound knowledge would wait until he awoke. Until then he would allow his magic to run free, it had known better than he had all along after all.

"'Arry. Wake up, 'Arry."

He was suddenly aware of being shaken by someone. Where exactly was he? It was so warm. It smelled so sweet. Was someone baking cookies? That was really nice of them. If only that thumping noise would go away.

He murmured to the blurry form, "Thanks for cookies. Can I sleep more first though?" He closed his eyes again.

He heard an exasperated sigh and a whispered apology, then the whole world was wet. Coughing and sputtering he glared at the offending blur, only to be silenced with the wave of a wand a moment later. His glasses were hastily placed back on his face by the mystery person, who of course soon revealed to be Fleur Delacour. Everything came rushing back.

"You are making zis extraordinarily difficult, 'Arry." There was a small smirk on her face, but she looked at him with eyes full of kindness. "Zhere is not much time, my friend is at ze door and I cannot stall 'er for much longer."

Harry shook himself and he could feel the cogs of his brain moving again and stood from his position on the loveseat. "Wait, Fleur." The knocking at the door was growing louder and there was a pleasant feminine voice speaking in French at the other side.

Fleur called out in her native language before turning back to Harry. "No time, 'Arry. Zank you for everything, meet me by zat tree on ze far side of ze lake tomorrow before breakfast, we will speak more zen." She waved her wand once more and Harry felt the cold water dry from his skin and robes.

Now that he had been awake for long enough to spur his fuzzy brain into action, he finally took stock of his environment. The window behind the loveseat was open, it was clear that he was expected to use it as an escape like a cat-burglar making off with a sack of valuables. Fleur waved her wand a final time and the loveseat itself disappeared.

He looked one last time at Fleur, his magic and the rushing river in his veins compelling to say something, anything, but his brain could not latch on to the words. "Fleur…"

If anything, Fleur smiled wider and her eyes sparkled in recognition, her heart displayed proudly on her sleeve. "I know, 'Arry. Later, oui?"

Harry nodded, thankful that the witch had a semblance of what was swirling around his brain because he sure as hell couldn't put it into words. Without another word he was out the window and the night air embraced him like an old friend.

Fleur watched him go, a wistful longing flashing upon her face before gently reprimanding herself and closing the window. She couldn't let a single conversation undermine her well-cultivated composure, she was Fleur Delacour after all!

She turned to unlock her bedroom door with a wave of her wand. It sure was a hell of a conversation, though and for the first time in years, she was hopeful for the future of her people. Her grandmother was going to be shocked!

The door opened and her curly-haired best friend entered. "Hello, Eloise," she said as innocently as possible. She was trying and failing to keep her exuberant joy from showing on her face. From the look that Eloise shot her, she was failing miserably.

"What is going on, Fleur? Why did you take so long to let me in?"

"Nothing at all, Eloise, I was simply asleep and you, foolish girl, have disturbed the sleeping dragon!" She rushed toward her friend and ignoring Eloise's gasp, took her in her arms and twirled her in a circle before putting her down again.

"Fleur! Now I know something is going on… Wait, did you have a boy in here?"

"Non, of course not! When have I ever done something so girlish?"

"Fleur. My friend. It smells like boy in here."

Fleur fought the pink blush from creeping onto her cheeks. "You are imagining it. Why are you so eager to see me at this time of night anyway?"

"Well I was worried that I hadn't seen you since the wand ceremony, but now I believe I know why! Who is it, that tall Durmstrang boy with the eyes like chocolate?" Eloise was confidently prowling about Fleur's room, searching for errant clues like a detective as she spoke.

"Eloise, would you stop being foolish? It is nothing of the sort, I simply had a pleasant day and received some good news." She racked her brain for a moment, and Eloise simply raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"Yes! Gabby, she wrote to tell me that she would be visiting!" It wasn't technically a lie, her sister would be coming to watch the first task.

Eloise remained unimpressed. "Okay, Fleur. Fine, that's okay." She levelled a faux pout at her friend before continuing. "You don't have to trust your best friend or anything, it's not like I tell you everything."

Fleur laughed, "Oh Eloise, please. If there was something that I could tell you then I would, you know that."

Eloise grinned triumphantly. "Aha! So you admit that there is something to tell!"

Fleur gave her the best serious politician face she could muster. "I can neither confirm nor deny these allegations. If there are any new developments any pertinent information will be shared with you. "

"Fleur, you are so weird sometimes!"

"That is why you love me, non?"

"I thought I loved you because you were chaotic and fun."

"Oui, these are good reasons too."

Eloise gave an amused sigh, and the two friends shared a giggle as they sat next to each other on the bed.

Fleur truly wished she could share more with her loyal friend, but there was simply too much at stake. She had to write her mother and grandmother immediately, it might even be worth it to talk to Madame Maxine to see if she could take a portkey home. Yes, that was a good idea. It would have to wait for the morning, however, she was sure the half-giant headmistress was asleep or else cavorting with the Hogwarts groundskeeper.

She couldn't stifle a smile at that thought, she loved Madame Maxine like an aunt and she had never seen her excited about a romantic prospect before. Perhaps there was something in the British air? An image flashed in her mind of a certain green-eyed champion, but she forced it from her head. He represented an all-too-important hope for her people and she couldn't complicate that relationship with the charms of romance.

Eloise broke her out of her musings by pushing against Fleur's shoulder with her own. "You really don't have to say anything, but please do be careful. I have been worried about you since you became champion. The tournament is dangerous enough, don't go seeking out more trouble."

A wave of love swelled in Fleur's heart, she really was lucky to have a friend like Eloise. "I promise, I won't do anything too reckless." Despite her teasing grin she leaned her head against Eloise's and tried to put all the reassurance and love that she could in the gesture.

Eloise cried out to the heavens, an unabashed smile on her face. "I ask again, God. Merlin. Jesus, Buddha, the Prophet Muhammad, the spirits that be, the universe itself, any of you can chime in. Why did I have to become friends with such a stubborn, infuriating, wonderful witch?"

Hogwarts Grounds

Harry cursed again, lamenting the fact that he hadn't had the foresight to bring his invisibility cloak or Marauder's Map with him that morning. To be fair it wasn't like he was expecting to have a life-changing afternoon that would require him to sneak about the Hogwarts grounds at midnight. Then again, these occurrences happened often enough that he should know to be ready for one of those at least once a week.

Thankfully, he had made it to the castle gate without incident; there had been no prefect patrols or other rulebreakers outside at this time to catch him in his illicit nighttime stroll. He did not want to explain why he was sneaking away from the Beauxbatons carriage, even if it raised his reputation as a dashing debonair extraordinaire.

Chuckling at the thought of his scrawny self being considered a dashing anything , he quietly pried open the great wooden doors that led to the Great Hall. Thankfully the banquet hall itself was deserted and he crossed to the opposite side taking care to muffle his footsteps as much as possible.

He reached the door to the first-floor corridor and peeked his head out to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing that it was indeed empty, he made his way to the stairwell that would lead him to the common room. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps around the bend.

Cursing his luck, he did the only thing he could. Thanking himself for his recent study habits, he whipped out his wand and tapped his own head and cast the Disillusionment charm. The dripping feeling of an egg being cracked on his head let Harry know that he had been successful as the owner of the footsteps turned the corner. It was only a sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect.

Keeping still as to not alert the older student of his presence- the Disillusionment charm was not perfect after all- Harry held his breath until the prefect had turned the opposite corner and disappeared from sight and earshot. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned around to continue, only to gasp and fall backwards in surprise.

"Are you enjoying your nighttime wanderings, Harry?" Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood before him, bright pink and purple robes gleaming much brighter than the nearby torches should allow, a gleam of mirth in his pale blue eyes. The man's magic was simply gorgeous. As if a master painter's palette had been brought to life it swirled with a pleasant intensity around the venerable wizard's body, all colours of the rainbow popping in and out of existence in a soothing rhythm.

He looked down at the young wizard sprawled out in his path and offered his trademark grandfatherly smile along with a wrinkled but firm hand in assistance, and Harry took it gratefully.

"Headmaster, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Ah yes, it is often quite the surprise when one is caught red-handed in the midst of their rather," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, " clandestine activities. However, if one is not prepared to be caught then I would ask why one would be partaking in such a risk in the first place."

Harry suppressed a half-amused, half-annoyed sigh. The professor did love his word games. Well, two could play at that game. "I would say, Professor Dumbledore, that unlike most instances, I had not intended to be involved in these activities on this particular evening. My sneaking about at this hour is merely circumstantial, not the result of any ill-intentioned, err..." Dumbledore was much better at this game than he thought.

"Proclivities? Aspirations? Schemes or stratagems, perhaps?"

"Pick any of the above, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled, his magic bubbling a lovely powdery blue. "I had gathered as much, Harry. I did leave you your father's cloak to avoid situations like this, after all. Although in my case, it would not have done you much good regardless." This was a statement of fact, and the headmaster's voice was absent any condescension or boasting.

He continued. "I must say, I have taken notice of your recent dedication to your studies, no doubt a result of the tournament." His countenance grew serious for the blink of an eye at the mention of the competition, and a few drops of orange colored his magic before disappearing. "And though I cannot help you in that regard, I do find myself wondering if there is anything else you need assistance with my dear boy."

Harry froze, here was the most knowledgeable and powerful wizard of the last century. If anyone had the ability to council him on his recent discoveries, this would be the man to ask, and yet…

Fleur had impressed upon him the seriousness of her secret, and there was no way that he could betray her confidence by telling anyone, even the headmaster. She had trusted him.

A wayward thought crossed his mind, and Harry blinked. Dumbledore was still waiting for a response, gazing kindly at the young wizard. Perhaps there was one thing that he could ask.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me about Gellert Grindewald."

Whatever the wise wizard had been expecting, it had not been this. Harry had the rare opportunity to observe Albus Dumbledore recoil in shock, all warmth disappearing in an instant as his face froze, eyes gazing past Harry unseeing as if at a ghost. His magic had frozen as well, and Harry could feel the temperature drop around them and Dumbledore appeared as if engulfed in shadow.

After a moment, his face and magic relaxed and though it lacked the kindness of before, he did not reproach the young champion either. "Forgive me, young Harry. I was ill-prepared for your response; I hope I did not startle you."

Harry shook his head. He had been surprised but he did not blame the wizard for reacting in the way he did. It had seemed that Grindewald had affected Dumbledore's generation just as Voldemort had affected that of his parents. From what Fleur had said, Grindewald had been just as evil, if not more so.

"It's okay, Professor. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Dumbledore contemplated Harry solemnly as if at war with a part of himself. Harry had never seen such conflict in the usually self-assured and genial man. However, Dumbledore seemed to reach a decision and regarded him with a gentle smile.

"Do not fret, Harry. Whatever information you have stumbled upon must be of grave importance if it relates to Gellert." Harry was somewhat surprised at the use of the Dark Lord's first name, but Dumbledore continued. "However, this is not the place for such a conversation. Would you care to join me in my office, my boy?"

Dumbledore's Office

Fawkes was at the height of his burn cycle; his brilliant red plumage was streaked with orange and gold like the sun, and he sagely surveyed the two wizards as they sat. When Harry had entered the office behind Dumbledore the phoenix had stared intently in his eyes and the young wizard could sense the immortal wisdom that only one such as Fawkes could possess. Fawkes and Harry always had a special relationship and Harry was beginning to understand what bonded the two together. Unfortunately for both bird and boy, Harry would have to leave their shared connection unsaid for the time being until he better understood his role as a sky elemental.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Dumbledore had been watching them both with interest; in all his years bonded with the phoenix none had ever captured Fawkes's fascination quite like Harry did. However, he had more pressing curiosities to pursue at the moment.

Harry sat before him, an enigma. His black hair tousled and wild as ever, his father's looks and his mother's green eyes were still present, and the boy had not looked much older in body than when the year had started. However, for some reason the boy seemed almost a man, and it had happened before his eyes quicker than he could have possibly imagined. No matter, the boy had questions, and he was owed honest answers. He only had one bit of unpleasant business to get out of the way first.

"Harry, my boy. You asked what I could tell you about Gellert Grindewald and you asked the right person, for I knew Gellert far better than anyone else on this Earth. I have but a few questions before I begin."

There was a change in the air, though the professor had not moved from his seat. Dumbledore peered through his spectacles with piercing blue eyes, his magic suddenly fierce and almighty, flaring white and glittering gold, it towered over Harry as a mighty bird of prey may overwhelm a field mouse. Dumbledore was every bit deserving of his reputation, and for the first time Harry understood why. He spoke in a severe tone that brokered no quarter.

"Do you wish to replicate his feats of magic to achieve your goals?" A sudden drop in temperature.

"Do you wish use his knowledge to delve into the arts that made him powerful?" An ice-cold gust of wind.

"Do you wish to make his strength your own, Harry?" Fawkes trilling in warning.

For these are endeavors I will not abide; I will not let you walk down this path! So tell me, why do you wish to know of Gellert Grindewald?"

Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter locked eyes. The younger saw the most powerful wizard in recent memory, terrible in his might, but compassionate in demeanor and full of light.

The elder saw the truth. A young heart that had overcome pain and suffering, trials and tribulations to sit before him. He saw eyes that yearned to understand, to build a new life, and above all, to love.

Full of light.

Harry broke eye-contact and whispered. "I learned of a terrible thing that happened. Something that only I can rectify. And I want to help."

Albus Dumbledore's heart broke. The boy had passed his final test. After all the horrible occurrences in his life, some of which the old wizard himself was responsible, the man who sat before him still only thought of others first. This is what would separate Harry Potter from the likes of Voldemort and Grindewald. No matter how much power he attained, he would always be a servant to those he loved first and foremost.

His magic receding and warming until it became like a cloak of light-golden warmth that embraced the two wizards, Dumbledore rose from his seat only to fall to a bony knee, tears threatening to fall into his lily-white beard. "Harry James Potter. You are a greater man than I ever will be, and I hope you accept my final apology."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in pure shock, what had the headmaster needed to apologize to him for? He shakily replied. "Please, Professor, you're too old to be bending down like that. It can't be good for your joints."

A beat. The headmaster stared at him in pure disbelief.

And just like that, the tension was gone. The twinkle had returned to Dumbledore's eyes and he rose with a crack of his knee and a responding wince of discomfort, the two wizards closer than ever. Fawkes sang and stretched his wings in celebration.

Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't just unleashed the might of a god into the mortal realm. "Now by your bold line of questioning followed by your rather vague explanation, I can imagine that you wish to keep the primary reasons for your inquiry to yourself?" Dumbledore did not seem angry in the slightest.

Harry answered earnestly. "That's right, Professor. It's not that I don't trust you, or that I am trying to hide anything. I made a promise to someone special."

"That's quite alright, Harry. I could not ask a man to break his promises, especially not for my sake. However that leaves me with a quandary; how may I answer your unspoken question when your question remains… Unspoken?" There was a jovial gleam to his eye, the man really did think quite highly of himself sometimes, Harry thought.

"The only solution, I believe, is to start from the beginning. Gellert Grindewald, above anything else, was an exceptionally brilliant and unbelievably dedicated man. He had firm ideals for what he believed was right and was willing to pursue those goals with a single-minded purpose that I have not seen matched in all my years."

"He was a challenging friend who pushed me to grow in my knowledge and magic."

Harry's brows threatened to rise as he took in this new information. Suddenly Dumbledore's familiarity with the Dark Lord made a lot more sense.

Dumbledore continued, "He was an excellent debater who could dominate either side of any argument," Dumbledore paused and regarded Harry with soft blue eyes, "and he was my lover."

Harry could not hide the shock now and his jaw dropped to the floor. "You… and Gellert Grindewald?"

The sadness remained in Dumbledore's eyes. "Harry. We humans do extraordinary things, good and bad, when we believe ourselves in love. And I was. For better and for worse I was devoted to the man and for a very long time I would have followed him to the ends of the earth."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. The beacon of light and the Dark Lord, partners? However, he merely needed to look into the man's eyes to know it was true. "If I may ask, Professor. What changed?"

Dumbledore gave a wry smile. "Nothing changed, Harry. I simply saw Gellert for who he was, not who I deluded myself in to believing he was. I told you that he was willing to do anything to achieve what he believed was right. One day I looked up and saw he was ready to cross a line in the name of the pursuit of knowledge that I knew was fundamentally wrong. It did not surprise me. I could even see it coming. I just did not want to believe it until it was happening before my eyes."

All was quiet for a moment save for the ruffle of Fawkes's feathers and the humming of various instruments whirling and bouncing around the office. Harry did the only thing he could think of.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I can't imagine how hard that was for you."

Dumbledore sighed. "It was the hardest thing I have ever done, and perhaps the most meaningful. You see, Gellert wished to tear away the intrinsic arcane forces of the Earth and keep them for himself, to use them for purposes against the very aims of their origin."

Harry swallowed; this is what he needed to know. Fleur had called him a sky elemental, what else could it be other than what Dumbledore had described.

Dumbledore continued. "But Gellert was blind to the fact that doing so would only pervert the very forces he was trying to control. If successful, he would plunge the world into chaos." The old wizard looked at Harry meaningfully. "You must understand, Harry. The Earth must belong to the Earth. The Oceans must belong to the Oceans. And the Sky must belong to the Sky. If one of these primordial forces is thrown out of balance, then the whole cycle collapses."

Harry closed his eyes and sank into his chair. This is what he had sought, the guidance that Dumbledore was always so good at giving, even sometimes without meaning to.

"Like I said, Gellert wished to take power that could not be taken, a power that could only be gifted. If one ever were to receive this bounty, they must give their life to it, cherish it, and act in accordance with it. It would be a tremendous responsibility indeed."

Harry could feel in his bones that it was true. The headmaster was only confirming what his being already knew, and now that his mind had a framework for his belief, he could feel the rivers of his magic clinging to the foundation like creeping vines. Harry knew what he was, what he was meant for. He was the last sky elemental, and he would honor that with his life.

Dumbledore watched the man before him settle into himself, and when Harry opened his eyes again, the old man was not shocked at what he saw. Merely infinitely proud.

"Thank you, Professor. I don't believe you know how much you helped, but I wouldn't be who I am without you, Sir."

Tears came to Dumbledore's eyes. "For better and for worse, I've helped and hurt you, Harry. I've made many mistakes in my life, and some of the worst of those have concerned you." He closed his eyes, there was no need to explain, both wizards knew.

"I can only tell you this one lesson I have learned in all my years as a wizard, as a leader, and as a man. There have been many times where I have had to choose between what I believed was right and what I believed was necessary. I have done both; sacrificed my morals to make the hard choices, and I have placed my ideals over the perceived greater good countless times each."

"There is never a clearly better choice, but I will tell you one thing. When you sacrifice your morals and win, it is always a bitter victory. When you find a way to win that coincides with what you believe is pure and righteous, there is no greater relief in this world."

Dumbledore gave a final kind smile, his eyes bright blue stars. "Do what you can to keep your heart pure, Harry, and you will be a light that this world has never seen."

AN

That's all for now! Here are some of my thoughts about this chapter.

-Harry's conversation with Dumbledore is what I think the cathartic conversation that canon Harry deserved, it may be my favorite bit of writing I've ever done

-I am SO ready for Fleur and Harry to get cuddly it's not even funny

Let me know what you guys think, your reviews and follows blow me away every time I get one and you are much appreciated! Have a good day