Magic, Curses and Gods Amongst Men || HP x JJK

Harry sat there, utterly shocked by Yennefer's revelation. The idea that she had willingly thrown herself and Ciri into the pit seemed almost impossible to comprehend. But as the pieces fell into place, it began to make a twisted sort of sense. The pit was the last place anyone, especially Arthur, would think to look for them. A place filled with cannibals, dark wizards, and all manner of vile creatures—a place where death wasn't just a possibility but a near certainty. If Yennefer hadn't been fortunate, if Harry hadn't found them... He shuddered, unable to finish the thought. The horrors that could have befallen them were too grim to imagine.

As he processed this, he noticed a few tears slipping down Yennefer's face. She quickly wiped them away, but the damage was done. "I am awful..." she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her guilt. "I knew the sorts of people that populated the pit, and I knew what fate would likely befall us." She turned to Harry, her violet eyes piercing him with their intensity. He could see the fear in her, a deep-rooted terror that shook her to her core. "Arthur... he scares me in a way no man ever has," she confessed, her body trembling slightly as she spoke. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she kept rubbing her palm with her thumb, a nervous tick that betrayed her inner turmoil.

Harry listened intently as she continued. "The Knights of the Round Table all have heavenly restrictions to varying degrees; it's how they're so strong." Harry nodded, having heard rumors of these restrictions before. But Yennefer's next words sent a chill down his spine. "Arthur is different... His heavenly restriction doesn't affect his body; it affects his mind." She paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "He doesn't have an ounce of magic inside him, and because of it, he is by far the most intelligent man in the world. Whatever he has planned... it scares me because he hates magic more than anyone else."

Harry could feel the weight of her fear pressing down on him. If it was bad enough that she would willingly face the horrors of the pit rather than risk being caught by Arthur, then whatever he had planned was truly terrifying. Harry closed the book he had been holding, his mind racing. "I'm not judging you," he said after a moment, his voice steady. "While what you did is wrong, if what you say is right, then I understand."

He stood up, ready to leave, but paused when he saw the guilt written all over Yennefer's face. She looked so small and fragile in that moment, burdened by the choices she had made. Harry's expression softened as he looked at her.

"You're a good person, Yen..." he said quietly, hoping his words would provide some comfort. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As he left, Yennefer's tears began to fall more freely. She cried softly. "Thank you..." she whispered to Harry's retreating form.

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Harry spent the next few days holed up in the Delacour library, hardly emerging except for the occasional visit from Yennefer, Apolline, or even Ciri and Gabrielle. They all respected his need for solitude and focus, understanding that he had a lot on his mind. Whenever they stopped by, they stayed only for a few minutes, offering him food, a smile, or a brief conversation before leaving him to his work. They could see he was buried deep in research, and they didn't want to disturb him.

The library itself was massive, with towering shelves packed with books on every subject imaginable. The sheer size of the collection would have overwhelmed most wizards, but Harry dove in headfirst, eager to find answers. He couldn't find much information on why he had a magical creature as his Animagus form, which frustrated him. The transformation was so rare that hardly anything was written about it, let alone detailed explanations. After several hours of fruitless searching, he decided to put the matter aside. It wasn't the most pressing issue—just a point of curiosity. What really mattered was the Philosopher's Stone.

Once he shifted his focus, it didn't take Harry long to figure out what the stone in his possession truly was. The Philosopher's Stone, a legendary artifact created by Nicholas Flamel, was capable of so much more than what most texts would dare to mention. The few books he found in the library that even referenced the stone only scratched the surface of its power. Healing from any injury, large-scale wandless transfiguration, and, of course, granting its user immortality were just the tip of the iceberg.

The more Harry read, the more unsettled he became. "There must be dozens, if not hundreds, of wizards out there who would kill to get their hands on something like this," Harry muttered to himself. And then it hit him—a realization so stark it made his blood run cold.

"That fucking bastard..." Harry growled, his voice low and dangerous. Dumbledore had linked the stone to him, ensuring he could never lose it, effectively making him a walking target. He was a bait, a lure for anyone who craved the stone's power. And for what? Because Dumbledore thought he didn't take things seriously enough? Because he needed to be pushed into action?

Harry's magic began to build up dangerously around him, sparks of raw power crackling in the air. He could feel the anger coursing through his veins, making his head pound and his heart race. The worst part was, Dumbledore was right in the end. Having the stone had shown him the truth of the world—the dark, grim reality that most wizards were too blind or too comfortable to see. But a small part of Harry couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if Dumbledore hadn't set him up like this.

His hands tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles turning white. Regardless, him and Dumbledore were going to have a chat when he returned to Hogwarts. Harry wasn't oblivious to the old man's involvement in his life—his placement with the Dursleys being the most obvious example. But for now, he would focus on Grindelwald and how to beat him.

The problem was, no matter how much he thought about it, Harry kept coming up blank. Grindelwald was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, a master of dark magic with decades of experience. The thought of going up against him seemed almost impossible. Harry sighed heavily and slapped his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Start from the basics," he told himself. Grindelwald seemed to have a particular affinity for fire; he'd seen that much during his brief encounters with the Dark Lord's followers. If he was going to stand a chance, Harry would need to train his water and ice elemental manipulation. He had a natural affinity for lightning, which was powerful, but it wasn't a natural counter to fire, and it wasn't great for defense.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry considered his options. Grindelwald was a Dark Lord, which meant he likely had unparalleled knowledge of the Dark Arts. Harry would need to study them as well, if only to know how to counter them. But he wasn't fooling himself. He knew he'd never be able to match Grindelwald in terms of sheer magical knowledge and experience. The Philosopher's Stone might give him the ability to heal from injuries, but he had to consciously channel magic into it to use it. If any spell affected his mind or knocked him out, he'd be done for. So, his primary focus would have to be on defense—learning every shield spell and variation he could get his hands on.

But most importantly, Harry knew he needed to focus on his Magic Technique. Ever since he had become an Animagus, he could feel a difference inside him. His soul had seemed to strengthen from the experience, and with that came a flood of new knowledge about his technique.

"Aries... Taurus... Pisces," Harry muttered to himself, a small chuckle escaping his lips. It seemed that Lady Luck hadn't completely abandoned him after all. Pisces was capable of water manipulation and conjuration—something he could transfigure into ice. That would give him a significant leg up against Grindelwald's fire-based magic. He would need to get started on summoning Pisces' King form as soon as possible.

With that in mind, Harry got up from his chair and began gathering all the books he could find on elemental magic. While he knew Pisces could do it for him, what kind of wizard would he be if he couldn't do it himself? He was determined to master these elements, to control them as easily as he controlled his own breathing.

He started studying in earnest, barely resting as he poured over the books in the library. Elemental manipulation, he quickly learned, was more similar to transfiguration than to charms. It was intent-based, requiring the caster to visualize the result they wanted to achieve. However, the spells were structured in a way that separated them into two or three parts: the element, the shape, and sometimes a magnifier or additional effect. For example, Glacies Draconis conjured a dragon made of ice. The spell was heavily magically intensive, with a complex set of wand movements designed to reduce the amount of magic needed by using it more efficiently.

The book also mentioned that it would work better with water close by, which was obvious—you wouldn't need to conjure anything; you'd only be freezing already existing water. This wouldn't be much of a problem for Harry. He had a large amount of magic, and his eyes allowed him to use it with near-perfect efficiency, reducing the cost of spells to almost nothing. He would recover any magic he lost long before he ever felt any kind of exhaustion. However, a lesson he'd learned on Halloween was that his body had a limit. Channeling so much magic had torn his body apart inside, leaving him dangerously vulnerable. He needed to be more careful. When he fought Abernathy, he had made up for his lack of knowledge and experience with raw power. That wouldn't work with Grindelwald. He needed knowledge, and he was determined to get it all.

Harry spent the next few days continuing his studies, practicing outside in the nearby forest. Louis had been kind enough to get him a spare wand since Harry's original was still at Hogwarts. The new wand wasn't a perfect match, but with Harry's manipulation of magic, it wasn't a problem. He practiced dozens of different dark spells as well as elemental manipulation, all while keeping his wandless magic as a trump card. It wouldn't do for people to know about that particular skill.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Fleur Delacour had been watching him in secret. She would hide behind trees or peek from behind bushes, her eyes wide with awe and a touch of jealousy. She couldn't believe how powerful he was, despite being younger than her. It made her grip her wand tightly, feeling a burning desire to reach that level of power herself.

Harry, however, ignored her presence. He was too focused on his training, too consumed by the need to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with Grindelwald. The days passed in a blur of spells, incantations, and intense concentration, with Harry pushing himself to the limit and beyond.

...

Harry stood near the edge of a calm lake, his eyes focused as he flicked his wand, muttering the incantation he had been practicing. "Draco Aquae," he said firmly, the Latin words resonating in the still air. From the water, a serpentine form emerged, twisting and coiling as it rose. The creature resembled an eastern dragon, long and sleek, with shimmering scales that reflected the sunlight. It followed the movement of Harry's wand as if tethered by an invisible string, its watery form gliding gracefully above the lake's surface.

"Mutare glacies," Harry muttered next, his wand still pointed at the dragon. In response, the water that made up the creature's body began to freeze, crystalizing into a form of solid ice. The dragon retained its fluid movements, despite being composed of ice now, gliding smoothly through the air. Harry directed it with small flicks of his wand, the icy dragon obeying his commands with precision.

Satisfied, Harry began experimenting with altering the dragon silently, testing the limits of his control. He concentrated, his brow furrowed in focus as he willed the dragon to grow larger. The creature expanded, its icy body growing and shrinking as Harry played with its size and form. Next, Harry decided to channel magic into the Philosopher's Stone, his mind intent on pushing the limits of what he could do.

As soon as he did, he felt a surge of power. The dragon, which had already been an impressive size, suddenly grew five times larger, towering over the lake but still maintaining the same fluid grace and raw strength. It was no longer just a conjured creature; it was a force of nature. The dragon circled above the water, drawing more moisture into itself, becoming even more massive as it absorbed the surrounding water.

Another discovery made Harry's eyes widen with interest. By using the Stone's power, he didn't need to constantly control the dragon. It became self-sufficient, following the mental orders he gave it without further intervention. This allowed him to drop his wand, his eyes watching the dragon as it continued to glide through the air, independent of his direct control.

Finally, after a few more moments of observation, Harry mentally commanded the dragon to dissipate. The massive form obeyed, its icy body melting away, leaving nothing but a slight ripple on the lake's surface. A small smile tugged at Harry's lips. He was getting the hang of it. Water and ice were not his natural elements like lightning, but he was making significant progress. Not many wizards could say they had mastered such advanced spells in just a week.

Next, Harry turned his attention to darker spells, eager to expand his arsenal. He flicked his wand toward a nearby cluster of trees. "Implosio," he muttered, watching as the spell hit the first tree. The trunk seemed to collapse in on itself, the wood creaking and groaning before the tree was reduced to a pile of splinters and sawdust. The next spell was one he had only read about in theory. "Sanguis Aestuans," he whispered, envisioning the terrible effects it would have on a living being. He followed up with another dark spell, "Expelli Viscera," but he had no intention of practicing these on anything living, not yet. The idea of killing off local wildlife just to test his magic wasn't appealing, even if he was deep into studying the darker arts.

Satisfied with his progress, Harry took a deep breath and put his hands together. This was something he had been eager to try. "Twelve Stars Summoning Technique: Pisces," he intoned. There was a brief flash of light, and then a large, black and white patterned fish appeared in front of him. The fish was half the size of Harry's body and floated effortlessly in the air, as if swimming through an invisible sea.

"Master..." the fish said in a soft male voice, the reverence in its tone clear.

Harry tilted his head, intrigued by the sight. Despite being out of water, the fish showed no signs of struggling. It floated calmly, its movements as smooth as they would be underwater. "Shouldn't you be in the water?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am a magical summon, Master. My body is a construct formed from your magic that I inhabit," Pisces responded, his voice steady and calm.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. When he looked at the creature through his Six Eyes, he noticed that there wasn't an "inside" to speak of—just pure, concentrated magic. "I have a vague idea of your capabilities," Harry started, "You can conjure and manipulate water..."

He was interrupted before he could finish. "Actually, Master, I am much more a manipulator of water. Conjuration is more within the realm of Aquarius. While I can summon small amounts, my specialty lies in manipulating existing water. In my King form, I would even be able to manipulate the water in the air, and to some extent, within a person's body."

Harry's interest piqued at this. "Interesting... Is there anything else you can do?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

"In regards to my abilities, I'm afraid not, but there may be another way I can assist you," Pisces stated.

"How?" Harry asked, his curiosity deepening.

"While it may sound like you're speaking your native tongue at the moment, you are not. You're speaking Aquan, or Mermish, to be precise," Pisces explained.

Harry's eyes widened slightly. He recalled Cedric mentioning that Harry hadn't been speaking English when he'd communicated with Aries. "Mermish is a magical language, like Parseltongue, and it's particularly suited to casting water magic. All your water-based spells will be amplified if spoken in Mermish. You already speak the language subconsciously when you talk to me. I can teach you to consciously access it."

"Teach me," Harry said without hesitation, eager to learn this new skill.

As Pisces began instructing him, Harry became absorbed in the lesson, focusing on mastering the nuances of the language. What he didn't notice, however, was Fleur spying on him from a distance, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and confusion. She had been watching Harry for days, but this... this was something else entirely. As she watched him seemingly screaming at a flying fish for over an hour, she could barely contain her disbelief. "Zis boy is strange," she muttered to herself, shaking her head before turning to leave, utterly baffled by what she had just witnessed.

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A month had passed, and despite Apolline's best efforts, Christmas hadn't been quite what they had all hoped for. Louis was hardly home, caught up in the ongoing battles that seemed never-ending. The absence of their father hung heavily over the Delacour household, casting a shadow over what was supposed to be a time of joy. But Apolline, determined to keep some semblance of normalcy, tried to make things as pleasant as possible for the family. She even managed to convince Harry to join in the festivities, though he would have preferred to continue his training.

Apolline, however, had played her cards well, enlisting the help of Ciri and Gabrielle. With their pleading eyes and innocent smiles, Harry had no choice but to relent. The night was surprisingly enjoyable. Apolline had gone out of her way to get presents for everyone, including Harry, who was caught off guard by the gesture.

For Harry, Apolline had chosen something special: a set of robes designed for combat. The robes were black, that felt appropriate for someone like Harry. Made from acromantula silk and reinforced with dragon hide at key points, the robes were enchanted to be resistant to spells to a certain degree. The material was light but durable, allowing for ease of movement while providing significant protection. The robes had a high collar, offering additional coverage, and subtle runic patterns stitched into the fabric that provided the enchantments. It was a thoughtful and practical gift, something that Harry knew would serve him well.

That night, Harry allowed himself to relax a bit. During dinner, he even animated the ice cubes in Ciri and Gabrielle's drinks, turning them into tiny ballet dancers that pirouetted across the table. The girls laughed, delighted by the spectacle, and even tried to mimic the little dancers with their own hands. It was a simple thing, but it added a touch of magic to the evening, lifting everyone's spirits.

But the peace didn't last. Just a few days later, a message arrived from a hospital—Hôpital Magique de Paris—informing them that Louis had been gravely injured in battle. The curse that had struck him was nearly lethal, leaving him in a precarious state. Although the healers assured them that he would recover, the news sent a chill through the entire household.

The atmosphere at the château grew heavy with worry. Even Ciri and Gabrielle, who had tried to keep each other's spirits up, found it hard to smile. Ciri, always eager to bring some light into Gabrielle's life, did her best to cheer her up, but even her efforts fell flat. The most affected was Fleur. She threw herself back into her practice with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every day, she pushed herself harder than before, her determination fueled by a deep anger that she couldn't fully express. She snapped at anyone who tried to get close to her, her frustration and fear manifesting in harsh words and a relentless focus on her training.

Harry watched all of this, considering whether he should use the Philosopher's Stone to help heal Louis. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he realized the risks involved. The healers had already said that Louis would recover, and Harry wasn't sure how he could transfer the healing power of the Stone without causing more harm than good. His control over magic was unique, something that others didn't possess. If he overloaded Louis's body with magic, it could do more damage than the original curse. In the end, he decided that all they could do was wait and hope for the best.

Harry was practicing his spells near the lake when Fleur approached him, her expression hard and determined. They hadn't exchanged many words since he'd arrived, save for the occasional greeting and the times when Harry had caught her spying on him, something she didn't know he was aware of. Today, though, there was something different in her eyes—a fiery resolve that caught him off guard.

"Duel me," she said, her voice firm and challenging.

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the sudden demand. "Pardon me?" he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I want to duel you," Fleur repeated, her wand already in her hand, her grip tight.

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled by her request.

"You are strong," Fleur said, her voice laced with frustration and a hint of anger. "I want to prove that I am stronger."

Harry could sense the simmering anger beneath her words, though he couldn't understand where it was coming from. What he didn't know was that during Fleur's last visit to the hospital, her father had mentioned asking Harry to join the war effort. This enraged Fleur. How could her father think that a boy three years younger than herself, even if he was a prodigy, could be better suited for battle than she was? Determined to prove her worth, she decided to challenge Harry to a duel and show him—and herself—just how capable she was.

Harry sighed, realizing she wasn't going to back down. "Alright," he said, "let's do this."

They moved to a clearing further away from the château, a spot where they wouldn't be disturbed. The air between them was tense as they faced each other, wands at the ready.

"Whoever knocks the other out first wins," Harry stated, his tone serious.

Fleur nodded, her eyes narrowing as she prepared herself. Harry conjured a coin with a flick of his wand and tossed it into the air. Both of them watched it fall, tension coiling in the pit of their stomachs. The moment it hit the ground, they sprang into action. Fleur was quick, 'Confringo,' she thought, sending a blast of energy toward Harry. The spell exploded on impact, sending debris flying. But Harry was faster, already casting a shield charm that absorbed the blast. He countered immediately, 'Aqua Tempus,' directing a wave of water from his wand toward Fleur. The water surged forward like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf her.

Fleur reacted instinctively, 'Vapora Ignis,' she thought, turning the water to steam with a burst of flame. She moved again, sending a bolt of pink light straight toward Harry. He sidestepped it with ease, countering with a charm that sent a gust of wind toward her, intending to knock her off balance and blasting away the steam. Fleur responded quickly, transfiguring a nearby rock into a shield that absorbed the wind. She then flicked her wand to send the shield hurtling at Harry, hoping to catch him off guard.

Harry ducked under the shield, rolling to the side as he conjured a rope out of thin air, sending it snaking toward Fleur's ankles. Fleur saw it coming and flicked her wand downward, causing the rope to burst into flames and disintegrate before it could reach her. She then followed up by casting a series of rapid, sharp stinging hexes, trying to wear Harry down with a barrage of minor but irritating spells. Harry blocked the hexes with a quick wave of his wand, conjuring a wall of water to absorb the impacts. The water shimmered as it deflected the hexes, and with a subtle motion, Harry redirected the water toward Fleur in a spiraling wave. Fleur reacted quickly, using a charm to freeze the water mid-air, turning it into a glistening ice barrier between them. Though it was difficult, water and ice were her natural weaknesses.

She then dashed to the side, trying to gain a better angle, and cast a powerful disarming spell at Harry, hoping to catch him as he maneuvered around the ice. But Harry was already moving, ducking under the spell and sending a short burst of wind toward Fleur to throw off her aim. He wasn't finished there, though—he quickly followed up by transfiguring a nearby branch into a whip-like appendage, directing it to wrap around Fleur's wand hand. Fleur's eyes widened as the whip shot toward her, but she was ready. With a deft flick of her wrist, she turned the whip into a harmless stream of confetti, which fluttered to the ground around her. She pressed her advantage, darting forward and casting a charm that caused the ground beneath Harry to shake violently, hoping to unbalance him.

Harry felt the earth tremble but managed to keep his footing, countering by conjuring a wave of water. Fleur responded by raising her wand, turning the water to steam with a blast of heat. The steam thickened, enveloping the clearing in a dense fog, reducing visibility to nearly zero. Fleur moved quickly within the mist, trying to disorient Harry and create an opening for her next attack. But Harry's Six Eyes saw through the fog immediately. The world appeared in sharp contrast, the layers of magic unfolding before him like a map, making it impossible for Fleur to hide from him. He saw her silhouette through the mist and moved to intercept her. Fleur howevr moved first, sending a quick charm that caused the grass beneath Harry's feet to erupt into a tangle of vines, aiming to trip him up. Harry sidestepped, using a severing charm to slice through the plants before they could entangle him. He countered immediately, sending a disarming charm her way, but Fleur deflected it off to the side letting it smash against a tree.

Undeterred, Fleur followed up with a transfiguration spell, turning a nearby rock into a large bird that swooped toward Harry. The bird's wings flapped powerfully as it dove for his head. Harry ducked, flicking his wand to turn the bird back into a rock, which fell harmlessly to the ground. He didn't stop there, though—he pushed forward, using his momentum to launch a stunning spell in her direction. Fleur dodged, rolling to the side before springing back to her feet.

Her next move was a charm that sent bright, blinding flashes of light directly at Harry's eyes, trying to disorient him. Harry instinctively closed his eyes, relying on his Six Eyes to track her movements despite the distraction. He was aware of her every step, every flick of her wand, even as she tried to use the light to cover her next attack. Fleur twisted, trying to follow up with a binding charm that would wrap around Harry like a snake, but Harry reacted quickly, casting a counter-charm that dissipated the magical ropes before they could take hold. He pressed his advantage, sending a burst of wind her way that pushed her back several feet, nearly knocking her off her feet.

Frustrated, Fleur attempted a series of rapid transfigurations, trying to keep Harry on the defensive. She turned stones into sharp projectiles and tree branches into whips, all aiming to pin him down or force him into a mistake. Harry, however, was relentless. He moved with fluid grace, dodging and deflecting her attacks with ease, turning her transfigured objects back into harmless materials before they could reach him. Seeing her attacks failing to connect, Fleur switched tactics. She combined a series of charms, creating an illusion of herself darting to one side while she moved in the opposite direction. The illusion flickered for a moment, but Harry wasn't fooled. His Six Eyes saw through the magical decoy, tracking Fleur as she moved to flank him.

She attempted to hit him with a powerful knockback charm, but Harry countered with the same spell, cancelling the force of her spell before it could reach him, he then whispered a few words that Fleur didn't understand and orbs of water start coalescencing around him into spheres. Fleur grit her teeth, refusing to give in, and tried to morph the water into steam to obscure Harry's vision again. But he was quicker, turning the water into a spheres of ice, which he then shattered into sharp shards, sending them flying towards Fleur.

Fleur conjured a barrier just in time, but the force of the impact sent her stumbling back as her shield shattered. She was breathing heavily now, realizing just how outmatched she was, but she refused to back down. Gathering her strength, she sent out a wave of fire, hoping to overwhelm Harry with sheer force.

Harry saw the attack coming and didn't even flinch. He met the fire with a powerful wind charm of his own, splitting the flames and redirecting them harmlessly into the ground. Fleur's eyes widened in shock, but before she could react, Harry closed the distance between them in a flash. He caught her off guard, using a non-verbal expelliarmus to disarm her. Her wand flew out of her hand, and before she could even process what had happened, she found herself staring at Harry's wand, which was pointed directly at her chest.

The fight was over.

Fleur's frustration boiled over as she turned away from Harry, her hands clenched into fists. Without thinking, she swung her fist at a nearby tree, the force of the punch cracking the bark. She stood there, breathing heavily, her knuckles throbbing from the impact, but she didn't care.

"Zis is so unfair!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "I've been working so 'ard for years, ever since I first developed my magical technique, and yet someone so leetle can command such powerful magic!" Her words tumbled out in a rush, her accent thick with anger and frustration.

"It's not fair zat he's never 'ome," she continued, her voice rising. "It's not fair zat when we are finally a family again, he 'as to go off to war! It's not fair zat he nearly died! And it's not fair zat I can't even fight for my own 'ome!"

Fleur's shoulders shook as she stood there, her anger giving way to tears of frustration. She was tense, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to escape.

Harry watched her silently, his expression blank as he took in the depth of her emotions. He understood, perhaps more than she realized. After a moment, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around her.

Fleur melted into the hug, her tears finally breaking free as she cried against his shoulder. All the fear she had been holding in, all the worry for her father, came pouring out. She didn't want him to keep risking his life every day. She just wanted him to stay 'ome, to be safe.

Harry held her tightly, offering the comfort she so desperately needed. "You're strong, Fleur," he said softly, his voice steady and calm. "Stronger than most your age. But you shouldn't be in a hurry to fight in a war. Stay home with your family. Protect them."

Fleur pulled back slightly, her eyes red and puffy from crying, but there was a determination in them that hadn't been there before. "Will you 'elp me get stronger?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she looked up at him.

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure there are things we can both learn from each other," he said. "I've not had much practice casting illusions before."

A faint smile crossed Fleur's lips as she wiped her tears away. "I'd be 'appy to teach you," she replied, her accent still thick but her voice steadier now.

Their moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a young voice calling out, "Are they going to kiss now?"

Both Harry and Fleur turned quickly, recognizing the voice as Ciri's. A second voice, clearly Gabrielle's, chimed in, "Yes, zat's what papa does to maman."

Fleur's cheeks flushed as she suddenly realized how close she and Harry were standing. With a slight tinge of embarrassment, she stepped back, her composure quickly returning. "Gabrielle!" she called out, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated as she went after her younger sister to discipline her for spying.

Harry watched her go, a small chuckle escaping his lips. The smile soon faded from his face though, he liked it here, it was peaceful and the Delacours were good people, but it couldn't last forever.

He needed to get revenge, and that meant tearing down Grindelwald piece by piece.

(AN: So Harry is learning quite a bit of magic, mostly to try and counter Grindelwald. I've always loved the idea of magical languages like Parseltongue, so I'm going to be adding spells like that and shitttt. Harry's magical technique is developing and with the strengthening of his soul will finally come Limitless. By the way Harry wasn't really fighting seriously in this bout against Fleur, neither of them were though fleur was struggling more, if they were using more lethal spells then Harry would've won a lot quicker. Lightning magic is pretty lethal and fast. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)

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