Champions

Calm before the storm

The Potters arrived back at the gates of Hogwarts very late that night. Harry was so utterly exhausted by then that it was a wonder he was still up and moving at all. Fleur took most of his weight as they trudged through the gate and up to the carriage.

They entered their suite to find Hermione passed out in a chair with a book on her chest. She popped awake immediately, though, and her eyes widened as she took in the tableau. Fleur shook her head at the girl, and silently indicated that she would be back shortly.

She then hauled Harry into their bedroom, relieved him of his clothes, and tucked him in. She could read his vague disappointment that she would not be joining him immediately, but also his understanding; Hermione was worried, and needed to hear what happened. She figured he was probably just glad not to have to tell the story himself.

With a gentle peck on the lips, she told him to get some sleep – and it wasn't like he needed telling twice.

She was tempted to crawl in after him, Hermione or no Hermione — partly out of worry for him, and partly because she, too, was exhausted — but duty won out. Hermione was waiting for her when she arrived back in the other room, practically bouncing in her chair. Most would have interpreted it as impatience, but Fleur could see it for what it really was.

The girl was deeply worried.

It was written all over the crease in her forehead, and in the way her intelligent brown eyes followed Fleur's every move. Or maybe it was just the fact that she remained silent; a truly impatient Hermione talked a mile a minute. Whatever it was, Fleur could practically feel her concern over her best friend.

"Is he okay?" she finally asked.

Fleur started at the question. She had leaned back in a chair and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts — or at least that was the intent. In actuality she had started to drift off herself.

"He is now, 'ermione," she sighed, in French since it was easier and she was tired. It was convenient that Hermione was fluent. "But that bastard that calls himself a Headmaster has a lot to answer for."

Hermione frowned. "What did he do this time?" she asked.

"He left a piece of Riddle's soul in the scar on Harry's forehead," Fleur said bluntly.

The manner in which Hermione's jaw dropped open would have been comical under other circumstances, but the subject was too serious for Fleur to find any humor in it. That Dumbledore would allow such a thing to stand was outright insane. She was really starting to wonder what exactly the old man's motives were when it came to her husband.

"A piece of his soul?" echoed Hermione faintly. "You mean that literally?"

Fleur confirmed the girl's supposition, and that led to a brief description of Horcruxes. While she admonished the girl to tell nobody of the situation, she didn't mind Hermione herself knowing (and knew that Harry wouldn't either). Hermione Granger was probably one of the most trustworthy people anywhere in the vicinity.

"So we have to find and destroy these things to kill Voledmort?" she finally asked. "I don't know where to even start with that. I guess I'll need to do a lot more research on his history."

Fleur felt a warm glow ignite at the implied offer. And she knew that offer wasn't just because Voldemort had to go. No, it was because Hermione cared about Harry, and would help in whatever way she was able. But fortunately, in this instance at least, it was unnecessary.

"No, 'ermione," she smiled. "In this case we leave it to the Goblins. Bill said they hate these things, and will happily track them to the ends of the Earth. And with 'Arry being a Friend of the Nation, the problem will get top priority. He will keep us updated."