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The Veela’s Champion Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-01-25 19:53:24 +0000 UTCThe time following his selection as Champion for the Triwizard tournament was one of the worst periods of his life. It felt like the entire school was against him, with the Beauxbatons and Drumstrang contingents not being any better either. Most of Gryffindor viewed him as a dishonorable cheater, with Neville, Hermione, and some of the younger years being the only ones to remain civil with him.
Angelina, especially, had been bad. The older girl was the favorite to be picked for the spot as Hogwarts Champion, and seemed to take his selection personally. The rest of the House seemed to follow her lead, including the Quidditch team, with Katie, Fred, and George avoiding him.
As for the other Houses, Hufflepuff was by far the worst to take offense. The announcement of him being chosen alongside Cedric had ignited something fierce in the House of Badgers, and he had never seen Hufflepuffs so outraged and angry before. The fact that they were angry at him specifically, made his life all that much worse.
Ravenclaw wasn’t exactly pleased over his selection either, viewing him as a rule-breaking git, with Slytherin having the expected nasty reaction. Malfoy had began passing out badges to humiliate him, with most of the Slytherins saying horrible things behind his back and calling him names.
That led him to where he was now, in Potions, where Professor Snape was doing his absolute best to take advantage of Harry’s newfound misfortune. Already Harry had lost Gryffindor a hundred points, having to endure Snape’s taunts and Malfoy’s insults.
“A waste, Potter, that’s what this potion is.” Snape examined his potion as he did his best to stir it and not fall for Snape’s taunts. “You know you’re supposed to stir it clockwise, and not counterclockwise, right?”
Harry could hear the Slytherins laughing on the other side of the room, with Snape not even bothering to hide his favoritism. The Potions master moved on to his next victim, and Harry couldn’t help but wince when the man’s gaze locked onto Neville.
“Longbottom!” Snape called out with a sneer, making his way over to Neville. “Why am I not surprised? This looks less like the Draught of Peace and more like something you would find in a troll’s latrine. Tell me, does incompetence run in your blood, or is it uniquely your own?”
Neville looked genuinely taken back by the severity of the insult, and Harry’s fist tightened in fury. He readied to intervene, knowing he would only lose Gryffindor more points, only for Ron to speak up. “Of course you would know what a troll’s latrine looks like, you filthy dungeon bat!”
“Ah, Mr. Weasley.” Snape spun to face Ron. “A shame your potion doesn’t look much better. Not surprising, as it’s well known that mediocrity runs in the Weasley family. Tell me, does living in Potter’s shadow do anything to make up for it?”
“Why, you-” Ron’s face turned red in anger and embarrassment.
“Twenty points from Gryffindor.” Snape drawled, and spoke again when Ron opened his mouth to speak. “Would you like to lose another thirty?”
Ron shut his mouth, and Harry ground his own teeth in fury. It seemed that Snape had done a good job of making an enemy of Gryffindor House today, as even Hermione looked furious. Just when Snape began looking around for his next victim, a knock at the classroom door got his attention. The Professor opened it to see the small form of Colin Creevey looking up at him.
“Excuse me, sir.” Said Creevey. “I’ve been sent to collect Harry for the Wand weighing ceremony. It’s one of the events for the Tournament.”
Snape sneered down at the boy, looking as if he was about to tell him off. Suddenly the Potions Professor gained a smug look, and looked back at Harry vindictively. “Potter, your boyfriend requires your services. Leave!”
The Slytherins all burst into rambunctious laughter as Harry grounded his teeth in anger, meanwhile Creevey blustered out denials. With a swipe of his wand he vanished his potion and forcefully shoved his notes in his bag before leaving the Potions classroom.
Colin Creevey was in a talkative mood, unlike him, and Harry was content to let him ramble on as they navigated the different halls. The boy led him to one of the school’s abandoned classrooms before leaving and wishing him good luck.
The room wasn’t very crowded when he arrived, with the other champions, some officials, and what looked like reporters with cameras. He stood off to the side after walking in, feeling awkward and alone.
Victor Krum was talking to one of the reporters, and despite the Bulgarian’s typical rough appearance, Harry could tell Krum was getting quite annoyed. Cedric stood alone by one of the room’s windows, looking over the grounds, while Fleur also stood alone against one of the walls with an displeased expression on her features.
‘Maybe she’ll want to talk to me.’ He thought, wondering if the French Champion would tolerate him. Fleur had been nice to him so far, if a bit arrogant, but he had never seen her as irritated as she appeared in that moment.
He made his way over to her anyways, getting her attention when he spoke. “You look unhappy.”
“Oui.” Her gaze went to him before narrowing at one of the reporters across the room. “That woman is very rude, and I don’t want ze displeasure of speaking to her again. She deals with falsehoods and lies, and likes to twist your words until they’re unrecognizable.”
He was taken back by her vitriol, not expecting Fleur to express her frustration that zealously. Although he could sort of call her a friend, Harry knew that she had a high opinion of herself, and would have expected her to jump at the chance to be interviewed by a reporter. “I thought that you would’ve liked talking to the press.”
“Ze press in France is nothing like this.” She said with irritation. “That woman should be writing about my own skill in wandwork, along with my intelligence and power. I am ze best student to attend Beauxbatons in centuries, and have broken every record ze school holds. Yet she seems more interested in writing about my heritage, of all things.”
The reporter across the room seemed to have noticed them by now, her eyes narrowing as she watched his own exchange with Fleur. She whispered something to her cameraman, who eagerly began snapping photos of himself and Fleur talking. It made him feel embarrassed, and Fleur cursed quietly in French as she tapped her foot in irritation. Harry was relieved that Dumbledore soon arrived with some others before the woman could do anything else.
“Hello everyone.” Dumbledore greeted. “Champions, Judges, Ms. Skeeter, it is now time for us to begin the Wand weighing ceremony. Mr. Ollivander, if you could.”
‘Skeeter must be the name of the reporter.’ Harry watched as the ugly blonde woman went to the side and began writing with a magical quill of some sort. The sight of her gave him a bad taste in his mouth, and not just because of Fleur’s words earlier. The woman wore so much makeup that it was abnormal, her appearence fake and unrefined compared to Fleur’s natural beauty. ‘Why am I comparing her to Fleur?’
Harry pushed those strange thoughts away, readying himself as the Wand weighing ceremony was beginning. He let his gaze fall to Fleur’s wand then, a delicate piece of wood compared to his rough and coarse wand. He eyed the way her long, delicate fingers and painted white nails grasped it against her thighs.
Mr. Ollivander stood, smoothing his robes, and stepped forward. His strange mannerisms were the same from when Harry had bought his wand years ago. “Mademoiselle Delacour, if you would, please?”
Fleur smoothly handed over her wand, and Ollivander grasped it gently. He turned it over in his hands, his fingers running along its length with practiced precision.
“Ah, yes.” He murmured. “A wand of rosewood… nine and a half inches… inflexible. With a core of… Veela hair?”
“Oui.” Fleur said with a small nod. “Ze hair comes from my grandmother.”
“Beautiful craftsmanship.” Ollivander remarked, raising the wand and giving it a small flick. A stream of silver sparks cascaded like a fountain. “Magnificent, and in perfect condition. Well done.”
Fleur gave a small smile as she took her wand back.
“Mr. Krum, you’re next.” Ollivander said, motioning Viktor forward.
The Bulgarian champion stepped up and handed over his wand, a short and stubby piece of wood that seemed almost unremarkable in appearance. Ollivander examined it with the same meticulous care.
“Hornbeam, ten and a quarter inches… quite rigid.” Ollivander said, his voice tinged with curiosity. “And a dragon heartstring core. Powerful. Excellent for combat magic, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”
Viktor grunted his acknowledgment, and Ollivander tested the wand with a wave. A small flock of birds erupted from the tip, fluttering briefly before vanishing into smoke. Satisfied, Ollivander returned the wand with a curt nod.
“Mr. Diggory.” Ollivander called next.
Cedric stepped forward, his wand held with practiced ease. It was long and sleek, polished to a shine.
“Ash wood, twelve and a quarter inches… pleasantly springy.” Ollivander said. “With a unicorn hair core. A fine choice, and well-suited to a wizard with a strong moral compass. You polish your wand often, I assume?”
“Yes, sir.” Cedric said with a polite smile.
Ollivander tested the wand with a flick, causing a series of golden bubbles to float lazily upward. “Impeccable. Keep it well maintained.”
Finally, Ollivander turned to Harry. “And now, Mr. Potter. Let’s take a look at your wand.”
Harry approached, feeling all eyes on him. He handed over his wand, its familiar weight leaving his hand reluctantly.
“Holly, eleven inches… supple.” Ollivander murmured softly, his expression turning thoughtful. “And with a phoenix feather core—an exceptional core, I might add. The twin of this wand produced remarkable magic, if memory serves.”
Harry stiffened slightly, knowing what Ollivander meant. The room was stiflingly quiet, as only Dumbledore seemed to understand what the man was talking about. Ollivander didn’t linger on the subject, however, and tested the wand with a simple motion. A stream of red and gold sparks erupted like fireworks, drawing an appreciative murmur from Ludo Bagman and the photographer.
“Superb.” Ollivander smiled, returning the wand. “In excellent condition.”
“Alright now, time for pictures!” The reporter said suddenly-Rita Skeeter, who Dumbledore had mentioned earlier.
After that came a very awkward few minutes where the woman and her photographer took pictures of them all. To Harry, it felt like it would never end, with his mouth hurting from having to smile so much. It became even more awkward when they had to take individual photos, and after that the reporter insisted on Harry and Fleur getting a picture together.
Fleur’s foot had been tapping in annoyance the whole time, and the look she gave the photographer when he tried to get a picture of her and himself was downright terrifying. Thankfully, Harry managed to slip out when she was focused on Krum, with Fleur fleeing the room alongside him.
“I still can’t believe ze impudence of that woman.” Fleur complained as they left. “For her to even suggest that I- you and I were… ugh!”
Harry didn’t entirely understand what she was talking about, but he could understand her frustration somewhat. If he could help it, Rita Skeeter -or any other reporter for that matter- would never run into him again.
“Well, at least it’s over with.” He shrugged, feeling tired from the whole event. “I guess… until next time?”
“Wait.” Fleur suddenly gasped his arm urgently. “I said that I would work with you on ze tournament, non?”
“I guess.” Harry shrugged. “I have time after dinner, if you want to meet in the library then…”
“Oui.” Fleur nodded, almost eagerly. “We shall meet then, Harry Potter.”
/////
The library was quiet in the evenings, and gave him the needed space away from everyone else. Harry had been especially tired with the day’s events, and it seemed that some quiet time with Fleur was exactly what he needed to unwind.
He sighed as he opened another book, doing his best to look for anything that might help him with the tournament. Adjacent to him, Fleur’s posture was perfect even as her lips were pursed with disdain. It seemed that she wasn’t having much luck either.
“Ze first task needs us to be prepared to face ze unknown.” Fleur had said earlier. “What exactly that is? I am not sure.”
Eventually, by a stroke of luck he found an account of the Triwizard Tournament from several centuries ago. It named Hogwarts along with schools named Mahoutokorou and Uagadou, which Harry had never heard of, but he decided to tell Fleur nonetheless. “This section suggests that the first task usually involves some sort of dangerous creature.”
“Oui, let me see.” Fleur moved up against his side, her arm brushing gently against him. Harry couldn’t help but feel the intimacy of the situation.
If it bothered her, Fleur didn’t show it, tracing over the page he had been reading. “This says one of ze creatures used back then was a Kappa, and another was ze Manticore.”
“So the first task will have some sort of dangerous creature then.” He summarized. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“Non, it does not. But I certainly helps.” Fleur frowned in thought. “Can you think of any place they would keep such a beast? Maybe in ze castle somewhere?”
He thought back to his first year, and how Dumbledore had kept Fluffy in the Forbidden Corridor. There was also the giant Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets during his second year, with the castle being so large that the serpent was able to move around undetected. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack if they began searching the entire castle without any idea of what they were actually looking for.
“The castle is too big for us to search the whole thing.” He said, before an obvious thought occurred to him. “You know, if there’s anyone who would know something about a dangerous creature arriving at Hogwarts, it would be our groundskeeper, Hagrid.”
“Ah, ze large man who lives in ze Hut?” Fleur asked.
“How did you know?”
“He is courting my Headmistress.” She said as if sharing a particular juicy piece of gossip.
“Hagrid is?” He blinked.
“Oui.” Fleur nodded with an attractive smile. “They have been trying to keep it quiet, but ze two of them aren’t exactly subtle.”
Harry snorted, knowing what she meant. Both Hagrid and Madame Maxime were both large compared to those of normal height, making it fitting that they would get in a relationship. It also meant that it would be hard for them to keep their relationship secret, and he was sure the castle would be talking about them soon enough. That said, Harry still hoped that Hagrid was happy with her.
“How are your classmates taking your selection?” Fleur asked all of a sudden, looking at him curiously.
He grimaced. “Not very well. You?”
“You could say the same.” She sighed. “Many of ze girls in my school wanted to be champion. And my selection only made them upset or bitter.”
“Sorry about that.” He sympathized. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure you will do better than any of them ever could.”
Fleur beamed at his compliment, before her expression shifted to become slightly uncomfortable. “Quite ze pair we are, non? Both chosen as champion yet disliked by their peers.”
“I guess all that’s left to do is win the tournament.” He joked.
“Oui.” Fleur’s eyes flashed with determination as she took his joke seriously. “I will win ze tournament and prove to them that I am more than just a Veela. And you, what if you win ze tournament, Harry?”
“I guess it will prove to them that I’m more than the Boy-Who-Lived.” He shrugged. “Maybe then they’ll see me as the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, and not someone who was saved by their Mother when he was just a baby.”
“Oui.” Fleur stared at him with an intensity he hadn’t expected, her eyes wide and pupils boring into his own. “That sounds like a good goal to have.”
He opened his mouth to speak, only for a familiar voice to intervene.
“Harry?” Hermione called out, and he turned to see her looking at himself and Fleur strangely. It was similar to when she had seen the both of them at the World Cup, and just as awkward. “And um… Fleur, right?”
It was like a switch had been flipped and Fleur’s entire demeanor changed. No longer was she as casual as she had been around him, her face draining of emotion and posture straightening. She almost felt colder, no longer as inviting and talkative as she had been mere moments ago.
“Hi Hermione.” He greeted. “Fleur and I were just studying for the tournament.”
“Oh. Did you find anything useful? I would be glad to help.”
“We figured that the first task will likely have some sort of dangerous creature.” He shrugged, before turning to Fleur. “Hermione knows the library very well, and could help us out a lot.”
“I do spend quite a bit of time in here studying.” Hermione blushed in embarrassment at his comment.
“It is okay.” Fleur said to comfort her, but it sounded insincere. “Some of us are not as naturally talented and need to study more to keep up. I am sure that Harry and I can manage without the likes of you.”
Hermione’s mouth opened but no words left it as she stared at Fleur in shock. Harry felt uneasy then, but Fleur spoke before he could do anything.
“I am going to return to my carriage.” She stood up, giving him a quick glance before she left. “Au revoir, Harry.”
Just like that, Fleur was gone, and he turned to see Hermione watch her leave with a bitter look on her face.
“I don’t like her, Harry.” Hermione said, glaring at Fleur’s back.
“She’s not so bad once you get to know her.” He replied, knowing his words would do nothing to settle Hermione.
“Still.” Hermoine said. “Just be careful around her.”
Comments
jp9901
Veela hate competition I guess. Especially those in the fields of romance
