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The garden path wound through flowering hedges that bloomed in impossible colors—roses that shifted from pink to silver as they watched, jasmine that sang soft notes when the breeze touched it. Harry walked slowly, supporting most of Crystal-Harmony's weight as she navigated the uneven ground with the determination of someone storming a fortress.
"Tell me about her," Crystal-Harmony said suddenly, her voice pleasant.
"Fleur?" Harry kept his eyes on the path, watching for roots that might trip them both. "She's brilliant. Sharp as a curse-breaker's toolkit and twice as dangerous in conversation."
"You sound impressed," Crystal-Harmony observed.
"I am. Last year, after I came back from Abyssantica, there was this diplomatic ball at the French Ministry." Harry smiled at the memory. "I'd never danced before—never needed to. She found me trying to hide behind a pillar and basically dragged me onto the floor."
"That was kind of her," Crystal-Harmony said, and she seemed to mean it. "Saving you from embarrassment."
"More like preventing an international incident. I stepped on her feet at least six times." Harry laughed. "She spent the entire dance teaching me the steps while insulting British education. Very her."
Crystal-Harmony made a thoughtful sound. Her next step landed wrong, and she stumbled. Harry caught her easily, steadying her against his side.
"She showed me Paris this year," Harry continued. "The magical district, Rue de Séraphin. There's this shop that sells components I can't even get in Britain—things that would cost a fortune if Fudge hadn't already bought them all just to spite me."
"She sounds very knowledgeable about magical resources," Crystal-Harmony said carefully. "That must be valuable for your work."
"Yeah. She also showed me Beauxbatons yesterday. Their workshop is incredible—dedicated professors for magical crafting, unlimited materials, students actually encouraged to experiment instead of punished for trying new things."
"That does sound wonderful," Crystal-Harmony agreed, though her grip on his arm tightened slightly. "She's been very generous with her time, showing you all these opportunities."
There was something in her voice. Harry glanced at her, but her expression remained pleasant and interested.
"I think you'll like her," Harry said. "She's direct, doesn't play games. You're both royalty in your own ways—she might understand some of what you deal with."
"Perhaps," Crystal-Harmony said neutrally. "Though I imagine being the daughter of a Minister is quite different from being an underwater princess."
"Different challenges, maybe. But still having everyone watch your every move, expecting you to be perfect."
Crystal-Harmony nodded slowly. "Then I look forward to meeting her properly. Any advice?"
"Just be yourself," Harry said. "She appreciates honesty."
"Good," Crystal-Harmony murmured. "Because I'm terrible at lying anyway."
They had reached the rose garden's heart, where a small pavilion stood in a clearing. White marble columns supported a domed roof painted with constellations that moved in slow rotation. Inside, a round table waited with three chairs.
And there was Fleur.
She stood by the pavilion's edge, examining a rose that bloomed in shades of blue Harry was fairly certain didn't occur in nature. Her dress today was simpler than yesterday's—cream-colored silk with subtle embroidery at the hem—but she wore it with the unconscious grace of someone who'd never questioned her right to beauty.
Her smile when she turned toward them was bright and mesmerizing, catching the afternoon light like a spell designed to stop hearts and scramble thoughts. Harry knew—absolutely knew—that her Veela allure couldn't touch him. But it was very, very hard not to notice how the sunlight turned her hair to spun gold, how her eyes reflected the garden's colors, how her entire presence seemed to make the garden itself look dull by comparison.
He gathered himself with effort, focusing on helping Crystal-Harmony navigate the three steps up to the pavilion. She was trembling slightly, whether from exhaustion or nerves he couldn't tell.
"Your Highness," Fleur said, and her curtsey was perfect. "Princess Crystal-Harmony of Abyssantica. I am honored to finally meet you properly."
Crystal-Harmony straightened as much as her rebellious legs would allow, and Harry watched her slip into princess mode.
"Lady Fleur Delacour," she replied, her voice carrying the formal cadence of someone trained in diplomatic protocol. "The honor is mine. Your family has been most gracious in welcoming me to the surface world. France's hospitality has been extraordinary."
"France is enriched by your presence," Fleur said smoothly, and her smile seemed genuine. "I 'ave 'eard so much about Abyssantica from 'Arry. Your city sounds magnificent."
"It has its beauty," Crystal-Harmony said modestly. "Though I imagine it's quite different from French grandeur. Your architecture is breathtaking, I have never seen buildings that want to impress so badly."
Fleur's expression warmed. "And I 'ave never seen buildings zat grow from living coral. Different magics, both beautiful."
Then Fleur turned to Harry, and her smile widened with obvious affection. "And 'Arry! You survived my Beauxbatons tour without running back to Britain in terror. I'm impressed."
Before Harry could respond, Fleur leaned in and kissed his cheek—a quick, casual gesture that sent heat crawling up his neck anyway.
"Should I expect a kiss as well?" Crystal-Harmony asked with a cocked eyebrow, looking at Fleur like she wanted to freeze her.
"We are an affectionate people," Fleur agreed, gesturing to the chairs. "Please, sit. Your 'Ighness, I know zis is your first time on land. You must be exhausted."
"I am learning," Crystal-Harmony said as Harry helped her into a chair. "Though Harry has been an excellent teacher. Very patient with my constant stumbling."
"'E does 'ave zat quality," Fleur settled into her own seat. "Patient wiz all sorts of difficult challenges."
Harry sat between them, hyper-aware of how both seemed to be evaluating each other with the casual intensity of chess masters opening a game.
"So, Your 'Ighness," Fleur said warmly, "please, tell me about your city. 'Arry mentioned you 'ave gardens where plants dance in ze currents?"
Crystal-Harmony's face lit up genuinely. "Oh yes! The Spiral Gardens—they're my favorite place in Abyssantica. The plants respond to tidal magic, weaving patterns that change with the moon phases. During full moons, the entire garden creates this... symphony of movement."
"Zat sounds extraordinary," Fleur leaned forward, her interest clearly genuine. "We 'ave enchanted gardens 'ere, but zey follow programmed spells. Your gardens sound alive in a way ours are not."
"They are alive," Crystal-Harmony said. "Everything in Abyssantica lives and breathes with the ocean. The buildings grow, even the light changes with the depth and time of day." She paused. "Though I'll admit, your stationary architecture has its advantages. It must be nice knowing where your bedroom will be from one day to the next."
Fleur laughed. "I never thought of zat! Though I imagine swimming to your bedroom 'as its own appeal."
"Until you're late for a council meeting and the current decides to be contrary," Crystal-Harmony said with a smile. "Then swimming becomes very inconvenient."
Harry watched them find common ground, feeling some of the tension ease. Maybe this would be fine after all.
"'Arry tells me you are quite skilled wiz ice magic," Fleur continued. "Zat is rare, non? Even among your people?"
Crystal-Harmony's expression grew more reserved. "It is. Most Royal Sea Horses focus on water manipulation—currents, pressure, temperature. Ice is considered... unusual." She created a small ice crystal in her palm, letting it catch the light. "But it's the only magic I can do, so I've learned to make it beautiful."
"It is beautiful," Fleur said, studying the crystal. "And unique. At Beauxbatons, we teach zat limitations often breed ze most innovative magic. When you cannot do everything, you perfect what you can."
"That's a generous way to view it," Crystal-Harmony said softly.
For a moment, genuine warmth passed between them. Then Fleur continued, "Actually, zat is partly why I asked to meet you both today. My family is 'osting a luncheon before tonight's ball, and you are both invited."
"A luncheon?" Crystal-Harmony asked.
"Oui. Somezing intimate—just my parents, myself, a few close family friends..." Fleur paused, her timing perfect. "And Nicolas Flamel will be zere."
Harry nearly fell out of his chair. "Nicolas Flamel? The actual—"
"Ze very same," Fleur said, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Six 'undred years old and still sharp as ze day 'e discovered ze Philosopher's Stone. 'E is very interested in meeting you, 'Arry. 'E 'eard about your talisman work and 'as questions."
"I—that's—Master Flamel wants to meet me?" Harry's voice cracked slightly.
Crystal-Harmony squeezed his arm, smiling at his obvious excitement. "That's wonderful, Harry."
"We would be honored to attend," she said to Fleur, her princess voice firmly in place.
"Wonderful!" Fleur's smile was victorious. "Oh, and Princess, zis means you'll need proper attire for ze ball tonight. 'Ave you selected a dress?"
Crystal-Harmony's composure faltered. "I... I hadn't thought about it. I can't dance—my legs barely work for walking. I assumed I'd just sit quietly and not draw attention—"
"Nonsense!" Fleur interrupted. "You are a princess from an underwater kingdom visiting ze surface for ze first time. Everyone will want to meet you. You should look ze part."
"But I can't—"
"Many ladies attend balls wizout dancing," Fleur said gently. "Zey 'ave conversations, enjoy ze music, watch ozhers. It is perfectly acceptable. But you should still 'ave a dress zat makes you feel confident."
Crystal-Harmony looked uncertain. "I wouldn't know where to begin. Surface fashion is so different—"
"Zen I will 'elp you!" Fleur's enthusiasm seemed genuine. "After lunch, we'll visit my favorite dressmaker. She does beautiful work—we'll find somezing zat honors both your heritage and ze occasion."
"That's very kind of you," Crystal-Harmony said carefully. "Though I wouldn't want to impose on your time. I'm sure you have your own preparations—"
"I love 'elping wiz dresses," Fleur assured her. "And besides, it will be fun! A underwater princess preparing for 'er first surface ball? Zat is ze kind of moment zat deserves proper attention."
Crystal-Harmony glanced at Harry, who nodded encouragingly. "I suppose... if you're certain you don't mind..."
"I insist," Fleur said warmly. Then, almost casually, "Besides, 'Arry will need someone to sit wiz during ze ball. I will be occupied wiz 'osting duties most of ze evening."
"Of course," Crystal-Harmony said, her smile perfectly pleasant. "Though surely you'll find time to dance? Harry mentioned you're quite skilled."
"Oh, we'll 'ave at least two dances," Fleur said, looking at Harry with clear desire. "It is tradition for ze 'ost family to dance wiz important guests. But zat will only be a few minutes of ze whole evening."
"Two dances," Crystal-Harmony repeated thoughtfully. "That's very traditional of you both."
"French customs are quite specific about zese things," Fleur explained smoothly.
"I'm sure they are," Crystal-Harmony agreed. "Harry mentioned you taught him to dance last year. That was very generous—saving him from embarrassment."
"'E was a quick learner," Fleur said. "Once 'e stopped apologizing for every step."
"Did he step on your feet often?" Crystal-Harmony asked with apparent curiosity.
"Only six or seven times," Fleur said cheerfully. "But 'e improved rapidly. By ze end of ze evening, 'e was almost graceful."
"Almost graceful," Harry protested weakly. "That's generous."
"I am always generous wiz my friends," Fleur said, her smile bright.
"So I see," Crystal-Harmony murmured. "You've been very generous with Harry—teaching him to dance, showing him Paris, introducing him to legendary alchemists..."
"Well, 'Arry is very talented," Fleur said easily. "It would be a waste not to expose 'im to opportunities zat match 'is abilities."
"Indeed," Crystal-Harmony said. "Though I imagine Britain has opportunities as well? Unless advancement requires specifically French sophistication?"
"Not specifically," Fleur replied smoothly. "Though it does help when one isn't constrained by provincial attitudes toward innovation."
"Advancement isn't everything," Crystal-Harmony said mildly. "Sometimes the familiar has its own value."
"True," Fleur agreed. "Though familiarity can also limit growth."
They smiled at each other, and Harry felt the temperature in the pavilion shift by a degree or two.
"The luncheon sounds wonderful," Crystal-Harmony said, changing the subject smoothly. "What time should we arrive?"
"One o'clock," Fleur said. "Come to ze Ministry at twelve-thirty. We'll 'ave tea first, zen lunch at one."
"Perfect," Crystal-Harmony said.
"Now, about ze dress—do you 'ave any preferences? Colors you favor? Styles from your culture we should incorporate?" Fleur asked.
"I... in Abyssantica, we wear very little when in the water. Scales serve as clothing, mostly. But for formal occasions, we use woven sea-silk in blues and silvers—colors that complement our natural scales."
"Blues and silvers would be stunning wiz your coloring," Fleur said enthusiastically. "And we can add crystals zat catch light like water—make you feel less... disconnected from your element."
"That would be nice," Crystal-Harmony admitted. "Everything here feels so...dry."
"Zen we'll bring ze water to you," Fleur decided. "In fabric, in design, in how ze dress moves. You should feel like yourself, even on land."
"Thank you, Fleur," she said quietly. "I appreciate your help. Truly."
"Of course," Fleur said, standing gracefully. "We princesses must support each ozzer, non? Ze expectations on us are... considerable."
"They are," Crystal-Harmony agreed, allowing Harry to help her stand. "Though I imagine your expectations are different from mine."
"Perhaps," Fleur said. "But pressure is pressure, regardless of ze source."
Then Fleur smiled. "I will see you both at twelve-thirty. 'Arry, prepare your questions for Master Flamel. 'E enjoys being challenged intellectually."
"I'll try not to sound completely incompetent," Harry promised.
"You could never," Fleur said, and kissed his cheek again in farewell.
They bid goodbye with perfect courtesy, and Harry helped Crystal-Harmony down the pavilion steps.
"She's nice," Crystal-Harmony said once they were out of earshot, her tone carefully neutral.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I told you you'd like her."
"I said she was nice," Crystal-Harmony corrected. "I didn't say I liked her."
"Crystal—"
"She is nice, though," Crystal-Harmony continued thoughtfully. "Smart, beautiful, kind, and very interested in ensuring you have every opportunity France can offer."
"She's trying to help—"
"I know," Crystal-Harmony interrupted gently. "And I do appreciate her offer to help with the dress. That was genuinely kind." She paused. "Though I notice she made sure to mention you'll be dancing together. Twice. Very specifically twice."
"It's tradition—"
"I'm sure it is," Crystal-Harmony said. "Just like it's traditional for her to kiss your cheek. Twice. In front of me."
"French greetings—"
"Are very friendly," Crystal-Harmony finished. "Yes. I noticed."
They walked in silence for a moment, Crystal-Harmony concentrating on her steps.
"She could be a good friend," Crystal-Harmony finally said. "If I lived on land. If I could stay."
"You could come back," Harry offered. "As many times as the transformation allows—"
"Until it doesn't," Crystal-Harmony said quietly. "Until my body rejects the potion and I'm stuck underwater forever."
"Crystal—"
"Six hours left," she said, looking at the garden's sundial. "We should make them count. And I should probably rest before meeting a legendary alchemist and being dressed like a proper surface princess by your very helpful friend."
Why are girls so difficult to understand? Harry asked himself.
.
.
.
The Blue Salon lived up to its name in a way that made Harry think of drowning in sapphires. Everything—from the silk wall hangings to the enchanted ceiling that mimicked a summer sky—existed in shades of blue that should have been overwhelming but somehow wasn't. Probably French magic, designed to be beautiful as everything else in this place.
Crystal-Harmony sank into her chair with poorly concealed relief.
"The palace is beautiful," Crystal-Harmony said to Minister Delacour, who presided over the head of the table. "Though I confess, seeing it properly is difficult when walking requires such... concentration."
"Your dedication honors us all," Minister Delacour replied, his accent making the words sound like poetry. "To transform oneself for diplomatic relations—this is sacrifice we do not see often in modern politics."
"Modern politics prefers less painful sacrifices," Fleur observed from across the table, her tone dry enough to kindle. "Like compromising principles instead of spines."
Her father's lips twitched. "My daughter has opinions about political expediency."
"Your daughter has opinions about many things," Fleur replied serenely. "It's my most charming quality."
Harry caught himself grinning. Fleur was mostly right about that.
Andromeda, seated beside Harry, was conducting a careful examination of the table settings. "Seventeen pieces of silverware," she murmured. "The French take their dining seriously."
"The French take everything seriously," Ted replied, eyeing his soup spoon like it might bite him. "Except seriousness itself. It's very confusing."
Nymphadora, wedged between her parents, had her hair cycling through nervous colors despite Andromeda's earlier lectures. Currently it was settling on an anxious purple-pink that clashed spectacularly with the blue decor. "I'm going to use the wrong fork and cause an international incident. I can feel it."
"Use the outside fork first and work inward," Harry whispered. "And if you get lost, just copy what Fleur does."
"Copy the quarter-Veela raised in a palace while I'm a half-blood metamorphmagus who trips over flat surfaces?" Nymphadora hissed back. "Brilliant plan."
"You'll be fine," Harry assured her as house-elves appeared with the first course—something that looked like art and probably tasted like it too.
Newt, who'd somehow ended up beside Crystal-Harmony, was already deep in what sounded like a technical discussion about underwater magical creatures. "—fascinating adaptation to pressure. Most surface creatures would simply implode, but you're suggesting the Royal Sea Horses actually use the pressure as a magical conduit?"
"Yes," Crystal-Harmony said, and Harry heard genuine enthusiasm replacing her earlier tension. Talking about her people, her home—this was familiar ground. "We shape magic differently because we must. The ocean does not forgive weakness."
"Extraordinary," Newt breathed. "Harry, do you realize what this means for protective magic theory?"
"That water pressure could be incorporated into talisman design?" Harry ventured, his mind already spinning. "Using environmental forces to augment rather than oppose enchantments?"
"Exactly!" Newt's eyes lit up behind his glasses. "Princess, would you be willing to discuss this further? The applications for deep-sea magical research could be revolutionary."
"I would be honored," Crystal-Harmony said, and she smiled, the same smile that made Harry's chest do the stupid thing again. "Though I warn you, our magic is not easily translated to surface casting. The language itself is different."
"All language is translation," Fleur interjected smoothly. "The question is whether we're brave enough to try understanding across the gaps."
She was looking at Harry when she said it, and he wondered what exactly she was translating and what gaps she meant.
The meal progressed through courses Harry couldn't properly name. Crystal-Harmony struggled with her silverware, clearly more accustomed to eating underwater, where utensils probably worked differently, but she managed.
"So, Harry," Minister Delacour said during the fish course, "I have read about your new Talisman. More advanced than your first, yes?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, though he was sure that he already knew everything there was to know about the second talisman. "The Enhanced version incorporates basilisk materials for improved curse resistance and coordination capabilities."
"Basilisk materials." Minister Delacour's eyebrows rose. "From the creature at Hogwarts? The one you defeated?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said carefully. "After I killed it with the Sword of Gryffindor, I was able to harvest materials from the remains. Basilisk scales and skin are extraordinarily useful for protective enchantments."
One of the advantages of everyone thinking it's dead, Harry thought.
"Quite resourceful," Minister Delacour observed. "Most wizards your age would not think to preserve such materials, let alone incorporate them into functional artifacts."
"Harry has always been practical about dangerous situations," Ted said dryly. "Whether that's a virtue or a character flaw remains debatable."
"It's both," Andromeda said firmly. "Simultaneously."
"I prefer to think of it as efficiency," Harry replied. "If I'm going to face something trying to kill me, I might as well get something useful out of the experience afterward."
Fleur's laugh was genuine. "You collect dangerous materials and convince them to be helpful. This explains much about your approach to problem-solving."
"I don't—" Harry started, then stopped. "Actually, that's fairly accurate."
"It's terrifying is what it is," Nymphadora muttered. "Next he'll be harvesting dragon scales."
"Dragons are reasonable about material collection," Newt said seriously. "It's the Erumpents you have to watch out for. Very touchy about personal space, and their horns explode when punctured."
The conversation spiraled into magical creature care, with Newt dominating the discussion and Crystal-Harmony contributing insights about underwater species that had Newt practically vibrating with excitement. Harry found himself relaxing incrementally, the formal atmosphere loosening into something approaching normal conversation.
Until Minister Delacour dropped his next question like a carefully aimed curse.
"Tell me, Mister Potter—have you considered partnerships for distributing your work? International commerce can be... complex for independent creators. Many talented artificers find that established foundations provide valuable support structures."
The table went silent. Even the house-elves paused in their serving.
Harry felt the weight of the question. This wasn't casual curiosity—this was a Minister of Magic probing his business strategy.
"I'm exploring various options, sir," Harry said carefully, choosing each word like stepping stones across a river. "There are advantages to different approaches. Independence offers creative freedom, while partnerships provide resources and reach. Finding the right balance is... something I'm still considering."
It wasn't a lie. He was considering—considering how to avoid the Greengrass Foundation's golden cage while still building something sustainable.
"A diplomatic answer," Minister Delacour observed with a slight smile. "Though I wonder—do you find independence lonely sometimes? Creating alone, negotiating alone, carrying responsibility alone?"
"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "But I've learned that the wrong partnership can be lonelier than independence. At least when you're alone, you're not pretending someone else has your interests at heart when they're really advancing their own."
The words came out more bitter than he'd intended, and Harry saw Andromeda's sharp glance—a reminder to watch his tone with foreign Ministers.
But Minister Delacour simply nodded thoughtfully. "Wise beyond your years. Also somewhat cynical for one so young. Both qualities serve well in international relations, though I hope the cynicism doesn't completely eclipse the idealism. The world needs those who create from genuine desire to help, not just profit."
"That's what I'm trying to preserve," Harry said quietly. "The part that wants to help. The partnerships I'm being offered..." He paused, considering how much to reveal. "Some of them would require compromises I'm not sure I'm willing to make."
"Then don't make them," Fleur interjected. "Better to build slowly with integrity than quickly with strings attached. The strings always tighten eventually."
Her father shot her a look that mixed pride with exasperation.
The tension broke slightly, and conversation shifted to safer topics—the upcoming ball, the various dignitaries attending, the particular challenges of hosting international gatherings where every seating arrangement carried political implications.
Lunch wound down through dessert—something involving chocolate and magic that made even Crystal-Harmony's eyes widen—and then Fleur rose gracefully....as she always did...did she practise that in front of a mirror? The best way to stand up, Harry almost wanted to ask her.
"Princess Crystal, shall we discuss attire for this evening? I have several designs in mind that might suit your unique requirements."
Crystal-Harmony stood—carefully, with the table edge for support—and nodded. "Thank you. I admit, I have no idea what would be appropriate."
"We'll find something perfect," Fleur promised, then glanced at Harry. "I'll return her in one piece. Probably."
"That's not reassuring," Harry said.
"It wasn't meant to be." Fleur's smile was pure mischief. "Come, Crystal. Let us leave the men to their discussions of magic and politics while we engage in the far more complex work of fashion."
As the two girls departed—Crystal-Harmony limping but managing, Fleur adjusting her pace with subtle consideration—Harry found himself alone with the adults at the table. Well, alone except for Nymphadora, who was examining her dessert fork like it held secrets of the universe.
Minister Delacour set down his wine glass with a quiet clink. "Mister Potter, I wanted to thank you personally."
"Sir?" Harry looked up, surprised.
"For being Fleur's friend," the Minister said simply. "Her position is... complicated. As my daughter, as someone of Veela heritage, as a young woman of intelligence and power--she faces pressures most people cannot understand. Genuine friendship is rare for her. I'm grateful she's found it in you."
Harry felt his ears heat. "Fleur's brilliant, sir. Anyone would be lucky to be her friend."
But even as the words left his mouth, something twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Friend. Was that really all he wanted to be? The way his pulse quickened when Fleur smiled at him, the way he'd memorized the exact shade of her eyes, how he found himself looking for excuses to make her laugh--that didn't feel like just friendship.
Ted cleared his throat diplomatically. "Young people need friends who challenge them intellectually. Harry's fortunate to have found several."
Several. Harry's mind immediately conjured Crystal-Harmony's face when she saw the market, the way she'd looked at him during sunrise like he'd given her the world. And Nymphadora--brilliant, chaotic Nymphadora who knew him better than anyone, who'd been there through everything, whose presence felt as essential as breathing.
Three girls. Three completely different connections that all felt equally important and equally impossible to categorize as simple friendship.
What was wrong with him?
"Speaking of which," Minister Delacour shifted topics smoothly, "How was your day at Beauxbatons? You were there with Fleur?"
"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed, grateful for the change of subject even as his thoughts continued their chaotic spiral. "It was incredible. The magical theory instruction is significantly more advanced than Hogwarts in some areas. Particularly practical applications of charm work."
He was twelve. He shouldn't be feeling like this about anyone, let alone three someones. He should be focused on his studies, his talisman work, not on how Fleur's hand had felt in his during the constellation show, or how Crystal-Harmony had pressed against him when overwhelmed by the market, or how Nymphadora's laugh made everything seem less impossible.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," the Minister said. "Beauxbatons takes pride in our approach to magical education. We believe practical skill and theoretical understanding must develop together, not sequentially."
"It shows in the students," Harry replied honestly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Fleur's curse-breaking theory knowledge is years ahead of what we cover at Hogwarts."
And there it was again--that surge of pride and admiration when he talked about her, the same feeling he got when Crystal-Harmony created those intricate ice sculptures, or when Nymphadora pulled off a particularly clever metamorphosis. Different girls, same confusing tangle of emotions he had no idea how to process.
Minister Delacour looked genuinely pleased. "She works very hard. Though I suspect having intelligent friends who appreciate that work encourages her efforts."
Friends. The word felt simultaneously too small and too complicated. Could you be friends with someone when part of you wanted to hold their hand during every conversation? When you caught yourself thinking about them at random moments, wondering what they'd think of something you'd read or discovered?
He was twelve years old and completely, utterly lost.
Though as he caught Nymphadora's knowing glance across the table, he suspected his confusion wasn't as hidden as he'd hoped. Nymphadora had that expression she wore when she'd figured something out about him before he'd figured it out himself.
That expression never meant anything good for his peace of mind.
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