Two thoughts were running through Harry Potter's mind as he sat at Gryffindor Table, waiting for the Triwizard Champions to be selected.
First, who were the champions going to be? Secondly, How long was this bloody selection going to take?
The entire Great hall was waiting for the Headmaster to finish his meal and start announcing the names. However, it looked like Albus Dumbledore was savouring every bite, it was as if he was teasing his students. Harry smiled at that, their eccentric Headmaster would do something like that
After what seemed like hours, Dumbeldore finally stood up from his chair.
"The long-awaited moment has arrived," The old man said in a thundering voice, "the Goblet will only need a minute or so before releasing the three names of our champions. If your name is called, please head into the antechamber and wait for us."
The Goblet of fire shone brightly, it was almost painful but mesmerizing to watch. Then the first spark flew from the Goblet and left them all speechless. After that came what they had all been eagerly waiting for, a flaming tongue dropping the first paper high in the air, and Headmaster Dumbledore caught it with a certain grace.
"The champion for Durmstrang," the headmaster began to read, "is Viktor Krum."
Harry joined in the applause, which was certainly not as loud as that of the Durmstrang students or Ron, who commented that it was obvious. It only took maybe a minute for Krum to reach the designated room, as his headmaster congratulated the seeker on the way.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is," Dumbledore read the piece of paper in his hands, "Sebastian Bonaccord." With that, all eyes were on one of the Beauxbatons' boys. Harry and Ron gave a halfhearted cheer for the Beauxbatons' champion, wishing the girl from the feast had been selected instead. At least then there would have been someone pleasant to look at in the tasks, but the Goblet of Fire probably knew what it was doing. Or maybe it didn't. A single word drowned out the applause for the French champion, and that word came from the very girl he was thinking about. Harry didn't know any French, but this one he one hundred percent knew meant:
"What?!"
Of course, no one paid any attention to that girl, nor to the other two who were crying in each other's arms that they hadn't been chosen. Everyone probably takes failure differently, Harry shrugged to himself. Sebastian made his way to the antichamber too, as he let the noise of his selection die down. The complete silence was broken only by French conversations among the Beauxbatons students.
Now came the moment Harry and every other Hogwarts student waited for. He tried to show Angelina that he had his fingers crossed for her, but she was hypnotized by the third paper flying out of the goblet.
"The champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory," with the last champion chosen came the most tremendous applause, stomping, and cheering. The entirety of Hogwarts was in attendance after all, so Cedric was regaled with an ear shattering joy.
Hufflepuff House was celebrating as if Cedric had already won this tournament, not that Harry was all that surprised though. Hufflepuff hadn't been known for any successes lately, so this meant a lot for them. Harry looked at Ron though, who was making a gesture of sticking his fingers down his throat to force vomiting. This honestly made Harry laugh.
Cedric eventually disappeared as well, and they all started listening again to what else Headmaster Dumbledore had to say.
"We have our champions selected, so I hope that all of you, regardless of which school you attend, cheer on all of the champions because that is what this competition is all abou-" , Dumbledore paused and watched the fourth paper that the Goblet of Fire had dropped with mild horror in his eyes and immense surprise. With seeker-like reflexes the Headmaster snatched the final paper out of the air. Harry was thoroughly impressed even though he had an inkling of what was going to happen next.
A collective gasp was heard throughout the dining hall as Dumbledore said: "Harry Potter"
***
Harry sat leaning against the wall a short distance from the Great Hall, wondering if he was dreaming. He tried pinching himself, but it didn't end this nightmare. The entire last half hour had actually happened, plain and simple.
His name had been drawn out of the Goblet of Fire, without him signing up. Harry tried convincing his peers that he didn't put his name in the goblet, but no one believed him. The whole school thought Harry was a cheater. The Hufflepuffs even coined a term for him, 'he-who-steals-their-fame'. At least Dumbledore believed him, and so did Professor McGonagall. But that was the only positive thing about having to go into the antechamber. As soon as Headmasters of the other schools found out about Harry, they all claimed he was cheating, but then Professor Moody came to his side with this one sentence.
"Whoever signed Mr Potter up must have done it to endanger his life."
Cool, now everyone thinks I'm a liar and my life might be in danger, Harry thought.
Moody was known as a paranoid lunatic, but was he really that far from the truth? in the larger picture three years of experience may not mean much, but here it could mean his demise. The only thing he could match them in was flying at most, but even there Krum would have shot him down like that Irish Seeker at the world cup.
Unfortunately, Harry knew of one person who would be overjoyed to see his name come up, Voldemort.
Any further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching him and so Harry stood up quickly, expecting it to be the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall. He was already preparing an excuse in his head to say why he was lingering here, but neither the Headmaster nor the Professor came.
"Harry Potter, right?" the girl in front of him said, and he recognized her immediately by her appearance. The one who'd asked for the soup a moment ago.
"You're the one who laughed mockingly when our headmaster welcomed your school to our school, aren't you?" Harry didn't even know where this sharp answer came from. But when he thought about it more, whenever he was frustrated about something, this sarcastic and cheeky side of him magically appeared.
She fixed him with a look. "That's not something I wanted to be known for," she said in broken English. But hey, he didn't know a word of French and she knew enough English that he could understand her decently. "My name is Fleur Delacour."
"Nice to meet you," Harry said, but she didn't offer him her hand, so he left his hand outstretched.
"Congratulations are probably in order right?" she said, "you're a champion, what could be better?"
"I'm sorry, but if you're here to accuse me or mock me or damn me for overshadowing this Sebastian guy, I'm not in the mood for it today." And with those words and a slight snort, he headed past her and away, but her hand stopped him.
"Overshadow Bonaccord?" She raised her voice, but he could tell she wasn't raising it at him. "I hate that idiot." And with those words, she had Harry's full attention. This was starting to sound interesting. "He's the one who took my place! I was supposed to be the champion!" She said arrogantly.
"Well... the Goblet obviously didn't think so... but don't worry about it, the Goblet was probably on drugs since its only job was to pick three names," he added.
"The Goblet shouldn't have had a choice," she hissed quietly, "I'm only telling you this because I'm going to need something from you, but I should have been the only one to throw my name in."
"What about your crowd of students? I saw you all throwing them in." 'Them', meaning, of course, the papers with names on them.
"That was just a show for your school," she waved him off, "or do you think Viktor Krum was picked at random? Really?" She started quickly, so Harry's brain had to work at full speed to catch everything she wanted to tell him. "Viktor Krum is a Quidditch star, how many hours do you think he devotes to academics? Do you wonder how many hours a week he spends practicing spells? How long has he been diligently studying magical creatures and runes? Viktor Krum only graduates from school because his headmaster will make it easy for him to focus on Quidditch. I don't know what kind of deal they have with each other, but I'm sure he was the only one with his name in Goblet, and now, besides a star player," that sounded very disdainful to Harry, "here we have a star and a champion in one, sponsorship gifts will be flowing and Viktor and Headmaster Karkaroff will live like princes."
Harry pondered one thought, either she was telling the truth or she had just competed with Moody for the top spot of the most paranoid person in this school.
"I'll admit it sounds logical, but what does it have to do with you and Sebastian?"
"Our headmistress promised me that I would be the only one to be drawn. I'm the best." The word had even more emphasis and Harry wondered how this self-praise and superiority would sound coming from someone who didn't look like a magazine cover model. "I've been preparing for this and instead he gets the honor? A wealthy idiot with connections and living off the fame from his forefathers?"
"I have to say, it makes me happy that someone hates someone at this school more than how I'm going to be hated this year," he said, and Fleur just gave him another look that said a lot. "Okay, let's recap, you were supposed to be the champion, but just like Durmstrang, someone famous got it for some reason I still don't understand. Why did you come to tell me? I don't want to sound like an ungrateful person," he said quickly, her gaze might have actually been murderous, who knows. "I'm happy for the random knowledge just like everyone else, but I have no place in that competition and as it's been confirmed to me, there's no chance of getting out of it, so I can't help you get that position you wanted so badly... and if I can be honest, I'd rather compete with a wealthy idiot," he used her word, "than someone like you who can do something, I might even start to have more confidence in myself after your speech."
Fleur stared at him for a moment, probably not even thinking about what he had just said, but rather if she should back down from what she was about to do. "You can't help me become a champion, but you can do the next best thing in this situation."
"And that is?" he asked impatiently.
"Winning," she said simply.
"Oh," he answered surprised, "yeah," he added further, "um, Fleur I'll do my best then... to make you happy by winning."
Fleur laughed, however, and for the first time, Harry saw her in a different light. Maybe she wasn't just a spite filled unselected champion. "I didn't mean it that way exactly," she smiled at him, "I offer you my help to achieve that goal."
Harry felt proud that he hadn't immediately agreed, he knew from his lovely relatives that when someone offers you something good unexpectedly, it's usually not good. "What's in it for you? Or otherwise, what would you want for something like this?"
"That's a fair question," she winked at him, "let's start with what I'm offering first, shall we? I'll be your personal tutor and assistant, I'll also be the one to handle the press in case of an emergency. I'll also try to make a better reputation for you because your reputation will be good for my résumé."
"I still don't get it."
"In a nutshell, yes? I will make you a true champion, make you a winner, ensure that everyone looks up to you and at the end of the tournament you will be loved by the crowd. What will I get in return? You'll tell everyone that it was me who helped you and who brought you to the top of the world," she smiled at him.
"You're offering to help me so you can share my glory," Harry wanted to make sure.
"The short answer is yes," she shrugged, "my school chose its champion and I chose mine. Madame Maxime must have known that I wouldn't give up and if I couldn't make a dent in the world the way I dreamed of when I first heard about this competition, I would find another and maybe a better one."
"I'm not saying I'm that unknown, people gawk at my scar all the time, but I think you're overestimating my fame."
Fleur put her fingers in figurative quotation marks and started, "'The youngest champion, who was chosen against his will and who shouldn't have had the slightest chance, defeated the most famous Seeker in modern history, a descendant of the Supreme Mugwump and a rival of his own,' do you see the newspaper articles too? And there, of course, it will be written that he only made it through the persistent training of one Fleur Delacour. 'The girl who could teach three years of knowledge and much more in a year. A miraculous teacher. A girl who went against her school to fight for the truth and against the injustices of this world.' It's all gibberish, of course, but it doesn't change the fact that everyone will be eating it out of our hands, and when I take my final exams, I'll have no shortage of job offers... and, of course, you'll give me half the winnings to jump-start my career."
Harry just laughed. "I appreciate how you added the money part at the end. Seriously though, I'm not in the mood for any more magical contracts, the one that someone signed for me and it 'magically' works was enough for me. Do you want half of my winnings and words of praise for making me into someone who can beat seventh years in the fourth year?"
"Among other things," she said evasively.
"Among other things?" He repeated after her.
"Let's cross that bridge when we get there." She waved away his worries.
"Give me a few days to think about it," he said the first sensible thing he could think of.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," she grinned at him, "I'll look forward to your answer. It was nice to meet you, Harry Potter," and with those words, she turned on her heel and headed off.
Harry stood there for a moment longer. He had to admit that the name sounded better coming out of her mouth than the way Albus Dumbledore had said it. Maybe there was a chance he could get out of this whole thing. The worst part was that he had to give the Sorting Hat credit, if he didn't have the ambition of the Slytherins he wouldn't have thought so rigorously about Fleur's offer.
***
Sunday morning was not much better. Sure, yesterday's celebration of him being picked in Gryffindor common room - though of course, no one believed he hadn't thrown in his name himself - was interesting. The only one who trusted him implicitly was Hermione, and she was also the one who brought him food so he wouldn't have to go to breakfast because they both suspected that if shock at him being picked had prevailed yesterday, today it would be contempt and anger.
Perhaps the worst part was not the attitude of Ron but the fact that his own owl was angry with him. "Come on, Hedwig, you're beautiful... the most beautiful of course...but a snow-white owl isn't exactly stealthy, and whoever we're sending the letter to wishes not to be found." The someone was Sirius, of course, whose advice was going to be appreciated with his lack of options at the moment.
If an owl could flip him off, it would flip him off with both hands. "I'd try to console you by sending you somewhere else, but I don't have anyone else to write to, so unless you want to fly a hundred yards to Hagrid, I'm afraid I have nothing for you."
But Hedwig just got up and flew off, offended, but before she did she scratched him a little. He placated Hedwig's aggressions with bacon and repeated assurances of her beauty.
"There's something else I should tell you." Harry turned to Hermione instead as he sent a letter to Sirius detailing the events of the previous night.
"Yes?" She asked.
"One student from Beauxbatons came to see me yesterday… Her name is Fleur and she offered to help me become the winner of this tournament."
"You can't trust her Harry, they're all standing together, it's more likely she'll try to trick you and take your attention somewhere else so you'll end up worse off."
"That's what I thought too," he admitted, "but... she sounded convincing of her hatred of Sebastian... just as I couldn't fake my feelings for Malfoy, she can't fake agreeing with the Goblet's choice of the champion."
"And what does she want from you for this 'help'?" She implied in quotation marks.
"Well... half the winnings," Hermione snorted after this, "and for me to advertise for her."
"Advertise?" She didn't understand.
"You know... how 'without the lovely Fleur, the best of the best, the most amazing of the amazing, the divine Fleur, I wouldn't have even tied my shoelaces a few months ago, but today? I'm another Merlin, just because of her... and if you call within thirty minutes, you'll get a free Fleur in addition to the first one and a pedestal to put them on.'"
Hermione couldn't keep a straight face and started laughing lightly, poking him gently in the shoulder. "It's not funny Harry, what if she has bad intentions."
"I will stop going to her lessons then? It's not like I'm going to sign a contract with her, if she really teaches me what she knows and helps me win, then let her take half the winnings, and if she gives me the knowledge that saves me? I'll tell those who will listen that she taught me."
"You made up your mind then?"
"I don't know," he sighed, "but do I have a choice? It's obvious to me that she came at a good time, but there's a saying about weakness attracting vultures or something," he waved it off, "and if she really is as arrogant as she looks, and I quite believe she is, then she just found me at a time when I really needed the help. And that she's going to take half the winnings? I wasn't planning on winning, so instead of zero, I'll have five hundred galleons. You can take some for S.P.E.W. if you promise to keep helping me and not get on my nerves about it for the duration of the tournament."
"Elf rights are no small thing-," she began but when she saw Harry sticking his tongue out at her with a smirk, she stuck her tongue back at him as well.
"Why am I even talking to you," she played the victim
"Honestly, you're the only one," he replied with a sigh.
"And divine Fleur," she added, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, that's actually true. The girls are kinda into me lately aren't they?" And with that, Harry earned just another punch in the shoulder. Hermione laughed though, so it was worth it. They all needed a good laugh after the selection.
***
"Potter, look what we've got here," Malfoy pointed to his badge on his robes, which read: "POTTER STINKS," and with that, he and his lackeys laughed.
"Whew, Malfoy, did you manage to write that yourself, or did you 'Let your father know about this' and then he spelled it out for you?"
"We've got enough of those, your Mudblood here can have one too," Malfoy surprisingly didn't respond to the obvious jab and instead went after Hermione, and that was too much for Harry. With how he had been feeling yesterday, his frustration mounting, It also incited anger within him, so he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy. Malfoy, of course, did the same.
Suddenly, though, Malfoy dropped his hand and, perhaps even with a bit of drool in his mouth moved his gaze away from Harry. Draco and his cronies simply looked behind him. So Harry glanced behind him as well, reluctant to send out a spell only to find one of the professors behind him. But it was Fleur standing there, winking slightly at him when she noticed his gaze. Just then the door opened and Harry barely hid his wand before Snape came out. The git must have gotten an interesting look, the drooling boys, the drooling Malfoy with his wand outstretched, and Harry who was putting on the theatrics of the most innocent of innocents at that moment.
"Mr Malfoy, can you explain what you're doing with your wand pointed at Potter?"
"What?" Malfoy snapped to his senses. "He's the one who pulled his wand on me, Professor!" But when he looked at Harry, he just stood there with a look of horror and incomprehension, but everyone except Snape knew that Harry was just playing along.
"Mr. Potter has an invisible wand, is that what you're telling me, Mr. Malfoy?" came from Snape sarcastically, "put yours away immediately. Everyone go to class, I'm not in the mood for your games."
"Er," Fleur cleared her throat. "I'm supposed to pick up Mr Harry Potter, there's a Wand Weighing Ceremony going on."
"Mr Potter," Snape said venomously, "has a two hour Potions class-" And with that he considered it settled.
"Mr Ollivander didn't seem interested in what Mr Potter has for class," Fleur smiled, but it wasn't a genuine smile.
"Then go!" Snape sent him away, "next class you'll show me that you know everything we discussed today, I'm sure your fans will explain it to you," he finished ironically and with that he disappeared into the classroom, slamming the door behind him.
"Your school has a rather professional attitude with the students here," Fleur remarked, motioning for him to follow her.
"Snape only likes his own house, and he kind of tolerates everyone not named Longbottom or Potter." Harry shrugged at that. Snape was a bastard. Period.
"I would gladly pay huge money for an education from someone who treats me like him." Her sarcasm was even more obvious now.
"If you put it that way." He shrugged, he had no counter-argument to that. "What about the Wand Weighing Ceremony? Did someone really send you?"
Fleur looked at him as if he were a small child. "I said I'd take care of you, and even if you haven't agreed to my offer yet, that doesn't mean I won't find out the information I need. The Wand Weighing Ceremony will really start in about an hour and a half, but why not get you out of class early?" She winked at him. "At least I have an hour and a half to go over the most important things about this event with you. Let's call it a trial period, I'll be your personal assistant today as promised and then you'll tell me your answer?"
"Okay." That sounded very good to Harry, he planned to take her up on her offer anyway, at least this way he would at least know what he was getting into.
"Excellent," she smiled – and this time it was genuine. "Here's your wand cleaning kit." She pulled out one from the bag she was carrying. "Give your wand a thorough cleaning."
Harry didn't know why exactly, but he did as he was told.
"I've managed to find out that a certain Rita Skeeter will be in charge of the photography and documentation of this event, her reputation is terrible," Fleur said without any elaboration, "there's no way you're agreeing to any private interview with her. I didn't find out much about her at that time, but I did flash a few smiles at certain students and got a few articles of hers. She's not the one to improve our," she emphasised the fact that the two of them are in this together, "reputations."
"I understand, clean my wand and no talking to Skeeter."
Fleur just nodded in agreement. "I'll help you look a bit better too, you'll definitely have your pictures on the front page... like I said 'youngest champion Harry Potter' and since we're in England I think the other champions will be happy to get a page four or so."
"Is it possible to look good in photos?" Harry said wryly.
"With your hair? I highly doubt it, but we can play it up to some casual style. Just don't stand next to Madame Maxime for Merlin's sake, you'd look like a dwarf. Try putting Sebastian there instead, subtly, of course, he'll look like the idiot he is."
"Wouldn't it be better if you came with me?" Harry sighed.
"I thought you'd never ask," she winked at him, and Harry realized he'd just fallen into a trap... Or did she throw him a lifeline? Sometimes he couldn't tell the difference between the two.
***
Harry knew immediately when he walked in with Fleur 'fashionably late' according to her, that it wouldn't be that boring. They did get some interesting looks. But the best one came from Sebastian, the Beauxbatons champion, who was there with his headmistress. His expression looked like he had just sucked a lemon, and Harry immediately noticed, no matter how quickly he settled his face. Harry made up his mind to keep Fleur with him just to keep seeing the Beauxbatons' delegation squirm like that. One thing he knew for sure now though, Sebastian hated Fleur, and even her headmistress didn't like seeing her here.
"Miss Delacour, what brings you here?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked with a smile. Harry gave him a small point in his mind for knowing the names of all the denizens of Hogwarts, how he managed that he still had no idea.
"I'm here to support Harry," she smiled.
"Really?" The headmaster's question was directed at Harry.
"Yes, sir," he said convincingly.
"In that case, you're welcome here," Dumbledore spread his arms slightly.
"Isn't that against the rules?" Sebastian asked.
"Nothing like that, boy... nothing like that, the rules forbid help from teachers and headmasters," Bagman took the floor, "but help from friends is welcomed and international cooperation? That was our main goal," he stated boisterously, "well-done son," Bagman walked up to Harry and patted him on the shoulder with a mischievous grin.
Fleur looked at Harry and laughed lightly. He, of course, didn't know what she was laughing about.
"Before we begin, may I have a few questions as well?" Rita Skeeter asked, approaching Bagman almost flirtatiously. "He is the youngest champion, after all, we need to give this tournament some spice."
"If Harry agrees..."
"I-," was all Harry could get out before Rita tried to pull him away with a smile. But Fleur was in her way, allowing Harry to see what fake hospitality looks like.
"Surely you can ask Harry questions here," Fleur said, raising the first fake smile.
"I'd prefer privacy," came the defence with a fake smile from the other side.
"I must insist that you ask your questions here, what if someone here wants to answer them?" Fleur played along, still with the same insincere grin plastered on her face. "Surely a professional like you must be able to handle the conversation in a busier room."
"Listen, Miss," Skeeter remarked while showing visible strain, keeping up her smile, "I don't know who you think you are, but you're not Harry Potter, because he's the one I'd like to interview."
"But you can, Harry can't wait to have an interview, right Harry?"
Harry gave his professional smile. The same tool he used to great effect on his relatives and nodded.
"Is there a problem?" Headmaster Dumbledore came up to them. "Do you wish to write another meaningful article like the one about me? Its tastelessness was beautifully accentuated by my address... what was that? An obsolete dingbat? I thought for a while about putting it with my official titles, but I have too many already."
Harry couldn't contain his surprise. Was his headmaster mocking Rita Skeeter now?
"I had my reasons," she said without batting an eyelid.
"Of course. I believe everything was backed up by a lot of facts, research, and a lot of brainstorming... and while I'd be happy to spend long hours debating this topic, I must ask that Harry join the other champions here."
Harry knew a lifeline when he saw one, so he mimicked Dumbledore's fake bow and headed for the chairs where the other champions were sitting. Dumbledore then introduced Mr Ollivander and they all headed towards him in turn. Harry, as the fourth champion, went last as expected.
"One of my wands." Mr. Ollivander twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. "And in excellent condition, as if it had been expertly cared for a few hours ago." Ollivander smiled at him.
"I take care of it like this regularly, a wand chooses its owner doesn't it?" Harry managed to say without laughing. If Fleur hadn't handed him that cleaning kit, they would have found a huge supply of bacteria on his wand, and some of them might have already founded their first civilizations.
"Couldn't have said it better." Ollivander winked at him, found it in perfect condition, and handed it back to him.
"And now the photos," Bagman said enthusiastically, "we need to immortalize this event for the history books."
The photographer adjusted them for a few minutes because everyone looked small next to Madame Maxime, so she ended up sitting while the others stood. Harry was placed beside Cedric with Professor Dumbledore behind them. Harry could not keep his eyes on the camera because Fleur was standing next to the camera stand, playing with her hair, drawing all the champion's attention with her simple actions like she was some kind of goddess. Harry realized that she was doing the same thing she had unleashed on Ron that time in the Great Hall and on Malfoy and his gang a few hours ago. Harry knew one thing, even if he couldn't smile for the camera, he certainly didn't look as desperate as a bunch of horny teenagers.
"Can you smile more?" The photographer tried, but seeing no one really listening to him, he took a few photos and then asked for photos of individuals as well. But they didn't turn out much better, Viktor, Sebastian, and Cedric looked distracted the entire time... Viktor only a little, probably he was dulled towards her or just Fleur wasn't giving him the full force. So when Harry came in with a shy smile and was willing to stand as the photographer wished and do the right poses at his request, he must have been the break the photographer needed.
Fleur Delacour was simply one hundred percent Slytherin, and for the first time in his life, Harry admitted that he didn't mind the description at all.
***
"So?" Fleur asked as she accompanied him to his next class.
"If every day is like this," he smiled at the memory of what had happened, "it will be my pleasure."
"It was fun wasn't it?" She smiled, "but it won't all be fun," she added seriously.
Harry just looked at her like she was crazy for suggesting otherwise. "You're talking to the person who was illegally entered into the most dangerous competition this school has to offer," but then he paused for a moment. "Do you even believe I didn't sign up myself?" He asked.
"Does it matter?"
"To me it does," he nodded his head, "I understand that you're not helping me out of the goodness of your heart, but there's a big difference between trusting me and not trusting me."
Fleur stopped moving, sighed, and then firmly took his head in her hands and looked into his eyes. "Did you enter yourself, or did you somehow arrange to be chosen?"
"What?" he didn't understand, but she held his head so tightly that he couldn't even shake his head properly to get some weird feeling out of his head. "No. I've said it so many times."
"In that case, I believe you," and with those words, she headed on as if nothing had happened.
"What was that? Some kind of technique to steal information from the brain?"
Fleur just laughed. "No, that was my veela power, even you could be a victim to it, no matter how much you may think otherwise. Men intoxicated by my power do all sorts of stupid things, so if you submitted your name, your face or words would give you away. But you didn't," she shrugged at the fact that she didn't really care. "Which reminds me, every time we train, I'm going to purposely release this 'power' so that you'll eventually become immune to it. It's quite difficult, intoxicating everyone around and leaving you intact," she hinted at both situations, the one with Malfoy and the one during the photoshoot. "At least we're both lucky you're more mentally resilient than the others."
At least now Harry understood why he wasn't acting like an idiot too, after all, he didn't look like he was immune at the World Cup. But he had also achieved what he wanted, another person believed in him. It was just a shame it wasn't someone who showed a little more enthusiasm about it. "And this ability of yours," he focused on something else, "is it even legal to use?"
"Is it even legal to force a fourteen-year-old student to participate in a competition for adults?" She shot back with another question. "I never claimed I could help you without violating various moral codes. This tournament is notorious for hosting the best cheater as its champion, that's what I was prepared to do, cheat to the max for my chance to hoist the trophy. Now I'll use it all to make you win.
"Won't it all come crashing down on me in the end?"
"We didn't sign any contract, did we?" She looked at him with a smirk, "This tournament has many flaws and we'll take advantage of any we can find. Poor champions years from now, all the loopholes in the rules will be already patched up," the smirk on her face didn't leave him brimming with confidence.
"Can I ask one more question?" He asked after a moment. "If the Goblet of Fire hadn't drawn my name, would you be helping Cedric like this?"
"Are you asking me if I care more about revenge on my school or what your fame will bring me?" She asked, but thought about his question for a moment. "No, I don't think I would lend Cedric my helping hand, or anyone else for that matter. You may not believe it now, but fate willed it for the two of us to be joined. I'd appreciate it if I became the champion and you improved my reputation in the eyes of the public but like I said, sometimes you have to take the hand dealt to you."
"I wouldn't mind if it was the other way around."
"You're saying that now," she finally smiled at him, "at the end of the tournament when you're the winner, you will probably change that sentiment."
With that statement Harry's mind involuntarily remembered the daydream he'd had when he'd first heard about this tournament, where he'd imagined everyone congratulating him on his victory.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," she snorted, amused at the expression he probably had now. "We'll say our goodbyes here, and I'll see you tomorrow at dinner, and we'll discuss how we're going to proceed from there," and with those words and a brief goodbye, she left him standing outside the classroom where his next class was about to begin. He certainly had a lot on his mind, but the thought of him as a winner was not going to leave him at all.
AN:
Heartfelt thanks to the members of the Harry/Fleur discord server (HonorverseFan, Wish, DJKopper, x102reddragon and SoInstantPlayz) for their beta-corrections. This is the first time I am posting something in English, which is not my first language and their help was invaluable.
If anyone wishes to join our community, here is a link: "discord . gg / skww8F4RFv" (without spaces)