Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Salvation
Looking to the Past, Looking to the Future
6 reviewsHarry finds his hide out, and Fleur finds out some things about Harry's unhappy past.
5Original
Hello again, first things first, to all those a little miffed about Harry being susceptible to the veela allure, this is not from a lack of reading the actual books, it is a device I am using to make future elements of the plot work. If you can’t stand the thought of Harry being vulnerable in some aspects then don’t even continue reading, don’t misunderstand me, Harry will be an exceptionally powerful wizard, he will not be god-like however, he will have certain flaws and vulnerabilities he will have to overcome in the plot. If you disagree with this, then kindly read the message I posted at the end of the first chapter, it should not leave my opinion a mystery to anyone.
Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, not me, I make no money on this story, if I did I probably would not be writing it, I think I could find better things to do in my time if I had millions of dollars.
Recap from chapter 2
“What do you need from me Harry?” Fleur asked.
“Asylum, both physically and politically, I need to remove myself from his control, and this was the only place I could think of.”
“I can provide the physical asylum Harry, but your going to have to talk to my father about the politics, I can’t guarantee you that myself.”
“Harry let out the breath he had been hold, he had not been sure if she would allow him to stay, and he would not have known what to do if she had sent him away.
“Thanks,” Harry said. “Thanks for everything, including saving me from those three girls.”
“You’re very welcome Harry; after all, what are friends for?”
Cah11 humbly presents
Salvation
Chapter 3: Looking to the Past, Looking to the Future.
Fleur led harry back to her house, on the way she asked Harry for as many details about Dumbledore’s betrayal as Harry was willing to tell her. Stating from where he killed Voldemort, Harry went on to tell her of Dumbledore, Mundungus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye apparating into Voldemort’s lair, Dumbledore ordering the other three to capture him, and his retaliation on the Dumbledore’s three companions.
“Tonks and Mad-Eye believed Dumbledore.” Fleur gasped. “They actually believed that you would go dark.”
“Dumbledore can be very persuasive, to most wizards in Britain; any powerful person whose loyalty to the light is in question could be the next Dark Lord. They were only trying to protect everyone else. Unfortunately for them and Dumbledore, I have no plans to die, or go dark, unfortunately, Dumbledore being the ‘savior of the light’ is inscrutable, and will be even more untouchable once he delivers to the Ministry his statement that he defeated Voldemort and then was attacked by ‘The Boy Who Lived’ without provocation.”
“Harry, you don’t really think that your Ministry will believe him do you, I mean, when they check his wand and find that he never cast any spells during his supposed ‘confrontation’ wont they realize he is lying?” Fleur asked quizzically.
“Ah Fleur, if only that were so,” Harry replied with a sad smile. “Unfortunately, Dumbledore wields too much political power in Britain to be questioned; also, most wizarding families in Britain have grown to trust Dumbledore’s word implicitly, they will believe anything he says, the fact that he has three ‘eye witnesses’ only makes his case stronger.”
“I can’t believe even Mad-Eye and Tonks believed Dumbledore, they were your friends Harry!”
“Fear will cause people to do strange things Fleur, I don’t like it either, but I can’t change it.”
At this point they arrived at Fleur’s modestly sized house, and entering, Fleur said “I’m the only one who lives here right now, it is tradition in veela culture that once a veela moves out, no one else moves into the same house with him or her unless they are married, bonded, or are relatives, this was primarily adopted to stop veela from stringing humans along, tantalizing them, but never committing to them.”
“So how will this work then?” Harry asked, “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea, and this is likely to be a long term stay, I can’t return to Britain until Dumbledore is powerless.”
“In this case, Harry I think we can bend tradition a bit, after all, I am hiding you here, not wooing you, besides I don’t think you will go out that much, not that I will stop you, but I don’t think you want to be enthralled again by any teenage veela who happens to be walking by. Heed my warning, teenage veela are not known for their foresight Harry, most will bond you without a second thought, just for the status, or your money. In their blind quest for these things, they would not even consider your feelings in the matter, only what they want.”
“Then am I really safer here then in Britain?” Harry asked indignantly, “or have I just gone from one danger to the next.”
Catching the subtle question within the question, Fleur knew she would have to word her response very carefully, so Harry did not misunderstand her and believe every bad thing said about veela were true.
“Harry, you are perfectly safe here in my house, there are very few people who come to visit me here, mostly family, who are either bonded already in the case of my grandparents and parents, or too young yet to have the veela allure in the case of my younger sister Gabriella. It is only if you leave this house that you are in danger.”
Harry nodded in understanding and then sighed and said, “Ok, where will I be sleeping?”
“There is a spare bedroom down the hall from mine, and some wizarding games downstairs in the basement. There isn’t much else to do here I’m afraid, I don’t do much here myself other than sleep, you will have to either amuse yourself here or risk going out and finding something to do in muggle Paris.”
“Thanks for everything Fleur, a place to stay, and your warning. I will have to speak to your father soon about my situation, when would be the best time him to contact him?”
“I will floo call him soon, he should be off work by now, and ask if you can see him, I’m sure he will agree to speak with you, if for no other reason then he has wanted to meet the young man who saved both his daughters in the same year.”
Harry blushed and said “Your family doesn’t owe me anything Fleur; it was nothing more than anyone else would have done for you.”
“Wrong Harry,” Fleur said smiling “No one else would have stayed to save my sister from the bottom of the lake, all the other champions stayed long enough to save their hostages, then left without another thought. You were different though, you were thinking about people other then yourself, you were genuinely concerned for her safety. And not many people would have hung around long enough in the maze to send up red sparks saving me from a much worse fate then being stunned. Most would have simply walked past thinking ‘one less champion in the competition.’”
“But Fleur, I did have those thoughts, a part of me was pleased that you were out of the running. A small part of me kept saying ‘one champion down.’”
“Ah, but here is the difference, you stayed long enough to make sure I was safe, have you ever heard the adage, your actions always speak louder then words, or in this case thoughts? You may have thought such things Harry, but in the end, your actions announce your intentions clearly, you were more worried for my overall safety then for the prize waiting at the end of the maze.”
At her mention of the cup, a shadow of depression passed in front of Harry’s face and Fleur, while pretending to not have noticed winced internally, thinking ‘ok, touchy subject, need to talk about something else.’
They stood there for a second in an uncomfortable silence before Fleur said, “Well if you will excuse me I will make that floo call home for my father, he should be off work by now, make yourself comfortable in the living room, I should only be 10 minutes at most.”
And turning she walked to the fire place and throwing a pinch of golden powder in the opening yelled, “Delacour ancestral home, Paris.” And with a whoosh was gone. Turning to the living room, Harry sat down in one of the chairs and got comfortable.
The Delacour ancestral home was quite large, 4 floors, 10 bedrooms in total, 13 bathrooms (one for each of the bedrooms and three others), two dining rooms (a formal one, and a non-formal one), a boardroom, a study, an entrance hall, and a grand sitting room. The size of the house was explained by the fact that at one point the Delacours had sheltered several veela families during conflict known to the muggles as the Second World War, but to veela it was remembered as the War of Tears. It was known thus because the leader of Germany, Adolf Hitler, who was a wizard as dark as they came, began to hunt down Jewish muggles, and other ‘undesirables’ most notably the veela. Because of this the Delacours, a well to do wizarding family, sheltered veela families from the Nazis, it was during this time that Fleur’s father met her mother and they got married, this is the point where the Delacour line was infused with veela blood.
Fleur stepped out of the fireplace in her parent’s home near Paris and started to move toward her fathers study on the second floor of the estate. She peeked in and saw her father sitting at his desk looking over some official looking paperwork. Walking over she respectfully waited for her father to finish his paragraph and then said “Father I must speak with you.”
Mr. Delacour looked up and his face split into a wide grin as he said “Fleur, how are you, I didn’t know you would be coming by today for a visit. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is mostly fine father, the store is doing well, and I am keeping out of trouble, well mostly anyway.”
“Honey, please call me Dad, or Daddy, or even Papa, none of this formal ‘father’ stuff, I get enough formal talk at work to last me through the day.” Mr. Delacour said with a twinkle in his eye.
Fleur smiled in return and said “Ok Daddy, it just feels so weird calling you by such a childish name when I’m 20 now.”
“Ah, but you’ll always be the little girl I remember running around asking more questions then you had a right, or supposedly the knowledge to be asking. Anyway, you said you had something you need to talk to me about?”
“Yes Daddy,” a serious expression came over Fleur’s face and she got right down to the problem. “Something has happened in Britain, Lord Voldemort has been defeated, you can guess by whom.”
Mr. Delacour sighed, “Harry Potter,” He waited for Fleur’s nod in the affirmative. “But of course if what you tell me about the boy is true, there was a complication that was not his fault, but puts him in mortal peril.”
“This is so, it appears a situation has arisen, and he has had to flee here to France, and has now found his way to my house through a very unique way of locating and transporting himself to the veela community where I now live. I will not go into details of what the situation is, he could better inform you than me, but it is dire, and he must see you tonight, or at your earliest convenience.”
“I have some free time right now, I can come over and talk to the boy, this paperwork can wait. After all, hearing this story will no doubt be more interesting than reading a cauldron bottoms report from that Weasley.”
“Thank you daddy, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed by the story.”
So Fleur and her Father walked to the fireplace and throwing in a pinch of floo powder each they said, “Fleur’s House, Veela Community 27.” And with a whooshing sound they were gone.
Stepping out of the fireplace one after the other, Fleur and Mr. Delacour moved immediately to the sitting room, where they found Harry asleep on one of the couches, his face had the expression of one who was enduring an agony so great, it could have overwhelmed a lesser man, and caused him to end his life to stop the pain. Walking up to him Fleur placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently saying, “Harry wake up, my father is here to see you.” Almost instantly Harry was awake and had drawn his wand so fast the other two did not know where he had pulled it from.
Harry relaxed as he became aware of the people in the room and lowered his wand saying, “Sorry, but after living in danger for so long, there are habits you pick up that might accidently hurt those you do not intend to hurt. My advice to you, if you do not want to be stunned, disarmed, and restrained, lightly tap my left shoulder, it is the safe wake-up call me and my friends have been using for the past year, do not wake me up any other way, as I will most likely injure you.”
Mr. Delacour was surprised by the boy’s fast reflexes, and appalled that a young man of 16 could have already picked up the waking habits, and twitches of a soldier. Walking over, Mr. Delacour said, “I will be sure to keep that in mind Harry, it saddens me that you have picked up such habits though.”
“They were necessary habits Mr. Delacour, if I had not picked them up, I would not be standing here right now, most likely I would be dead, and Voldemort would be attacking France with the full might of magical Britain behind him.”
“You speak of that possibility as if there was no other outcome in the case of your death, how can you know that if you had failed Voldemort would automatically win?” Mr. Delacour asked, “Surely someone else would have stood up to him.”
“I am sure many people would have stood up to him, however there are certain factors that you are unaware of, and before I make you aware of them, and before I tell you my story, a couple oaths must be made, one by me, one by you, and one by Fleur.”
“What kind of Oaths?” Fleur asked.
“I need an oath of silence from you and your father, and an oath of truthfulness from me, so you do not doubt my words, we do not have time for doubt, all events before now were preordained, but now there are endless possible futures, we must work to ensure that the best one possible becomes reality.”
Mr. Delacour and Fleur both swore a magically binding oath to never tell what they heard from Harry to another person, nor to tell anyone he was in Fleur’s house without Harry’s permission, and Harry swore a magically binding oath that everything he was about to tell them was the truth.
After the oaths were given Harry took a deep breath and told Mr. Delacour everything he told Fleur. After he was through Mr. Delacour looked very pale and said “Dumbledore betrayed you, he wants to rule magical Britain?”
“It would appear so sir; he even went so far as to ask me to commit suicide by over dosing on the draft of living death.”
Muttering to himself, Mr. Delacour said, “Great, was hoping this would not happen during my lifetime, but it would appear I must live through one more thing before I return to the Earth.”
“What do you mean Daddy?” Asked Fleur, puzzled.
“I mean honey, that the events that are playing out, may have been more preordained then even Harry knows. There was another prophesy made, the day before you assaulted Voldemort’s fortress, and its contents warned of events that sound very like these.”
England, 12 hours before Harry’s attack on Voldemort
Hermione was sitting in one of the guest rooms of Grimmald Place talking with Luna, “I want to ask Ron to be my boyfriend Luna, but I’m just not sure we have enough in common.” She said nervously.
“Well let’s think, what do you have in common?” Luna said. “You’re both friends with Harry, you both hate Voldemort for one reason or another, you’re both intelligent, maybe in different areas, but intelligent, and you have feelings each other. I would say that’s enough in common to at least give the relationship a try.”
Hermione had at first been surprised that Luna could be so perceptive, having taken her, unique personality at face value. But she had learned that once you get to know her, the unique personality was nothing but a charade to discourage people who were fair weather friends from even associating with her, deciding that no friends were better than people who pretend, but abandon you at the first sign of danger.
“That’s true, I think we could make it work, even if that is all we have in common, I expect that we will get to know each other better as we spend more time alone.” Hermione commented. Just then the two girls heard from downstairs.
“GIRLS, TIME FOR SUPPER, COME DOWN AND WASH UP.”
“COMING MRS. WEASLEY.” Hermione shouted back and standing up she started to move to the door. She was almost to it when her brain registered that Luna was not following her. Turning around she asked “Luna aren’t you…” But never finished her question, Luna was sitting erect on the bed, her eyes were glazed over and she was looking into the distance as if seeing something from very far away. Her face was entirely expressionless, and opening her mouth she spoke in a deep low monotone.
“The pieces are in place,
The events coming to conclusion,
One way or the other, the fate of two races hangs in the balance,
One the overlord, one the oppressed,
The warriors of love and desire will try to break their bondage this year,
But their success or defeat lies in the hands of one individual,
They must learn to overcome their demons,
And embrace the flames of life,
Or the world will once again be cast into darkness,
One that will have no end.”
Luna sat stock still for a second longer and then suddenly her face lost its paleness, and she was once again smiling and asked “What, did you say something?”
“N-no,” Hermione replied, “It-it’s just that… Molly called us down for dinner.” She finished hesitantly. She was about to ask if Luna remembered what she just said, but, if her attitude was any indicator, she did not. Surely she would have been acting subdued if she remembered predicting, (‘an actual prediction’ Hermione thought, ‘wow, Harry wasn’t wrong, that was just creepy.’), the revolution of an oppressed race, and that the outcome of such a revolution was dependent on one individual.
She thought about whom the ‘oppressed race’ was, she thought she knew who the overlords were, no other race on Earth acted more domineering then the wizarding race, the oppressed race could be any number of peoples. The goblins, the vampires, the werewolves, she shuddered at the thought; if one of those three races were planning rebellion the conflict would be long and bloody. If it were vampires or werewolves, every victim of the conflicts would increase their ranks, and if it were goblins, they would need to enter their magically protected domain and siege their cities. In any of the scenarios, many lives would be lost. ‘But wait a minute,’ Hermione thought, ‘there was a clue, Luna referred to them as “the warriors of love and desire”, but who could that be? I don’t remember any race ever being referred to as the “warriors of love and desire”. If it were just “the creatures of love and desire” I would have guessed the veela, but I would hardly call them warriors, they did not even participate in the great conflict that consumed the world during WW2.’
Thoughts no more clear then they were before, Hermione put it from her mind, saying to herself ‘I’ll come back to that latter, for now I need to concentrate on asking Ron out, why he can’t just do it himself I will never know, where is his Gryffindor bravery?’
After the visit from Mr. Delacour, Harry had spent the last few days in relative inactivity in Fleur’s house recovering his strength after battling Voldemort, Dumbledore, and then making an international apparation jump from Britain to France. Mr. Delacour had refused to tell Harry the contents of the prophesy because he had been sworn to secrecy about such matters and needed the authorization of the Prime Minister before he could reveal its contents.
A few days had passed and Fleur was walking home from work. She had been working late; taking care of inventory because her co-worker, his name was Ben, had not come to work again that day. ‘If he’s not careful, he’ll get himself fired.’ Fleur thought, ‘not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.’ Entering her house, she locked the door and headed up stairs. As she walked down the hall to her room she passed by the door of the guest room Harry was staying in when she heard a small whimper float through the door. Pausing for a moment, she tiptoed up to the door and pressed her ear against it, what she heard unsettled her slightly. She could hear someone, most probably Harry sobbing softly and crying out, reaching out with her powers, Fleur probed the room for emotions, what she felt made her stumble back reeling, as if a physical blow had fallen on her.
Veela have powers other than the ability to call passion fire, or to enthrall members of the opposite sex, they are also adept at sensing the emotions of other individuals, an ability that harkens back to ancient times, when they used the ability to detect the intent of outsiders, to discover whether they be friend or foe.
The emotions of pain and lose coming from inside the bedroom were so great, so unrestrained that Fleur had never sensed their like before. It was as if the pain and agony of the world were emanating from one person. Opening the door quietly, as she had no wish to be stunned by Harry accidentally, Fleur slipped into the room and walked over to the bed. Harry lay there, tears streaming from his eyes, his body covered in sweat, muttering “Please, stop it, your hurting me, please stop.”
Deciding she could not leave this alone, Fleur reached down and gently tapped Harry on his left shoulder. Harry stilled and then slowly opened his eyes. When he saw Fleur looking down on him with concern, he muttered, “Sorry for keeping you up, please Fleur, go back to sleep.”
“What were you dreaming about?” Fleur asked.
“Nothing, Just a stupid nightmare, I’m fine.”
Fleur stared down at him in disbelief and said “Harry, Veela are natural empaths, we can sense strong emotions, and the strength of the emotions I sensed through that door almost knocked me over, and they weren’t pleasant emotions either. And even if I wasn’t an epithet, you were sobbing in your sleep, and you’re covered in sweat. So don’t give me any bull about it just being a bad dream.”
“Sorry Fleur, but I never had a, what would you call it, a happy family experience after my parents died, and I don’t even remember them, all I have is bad memories from my Aunt and Uncle’s house.”
“What do you dream about, maybe if you tell me; it will make you feel better.”
Sighing Harry told her about his dream where he is at Privet Drive sitting in his room upstairs. He told her how after about a minute Dudley would walk in and begin to insult Harry about having no parents. He described how he made a move forward to try to push Dudley out of the room, when from no where there was a knife in Dudley’s hand. “And he always says, ‘I got you now Potter, you just tried to assault me. I am now legally allowed to defend myself.’ And then he comes at me and starts slashing at me. Soon I’m covered in cuts and then my Uncle Vernon walks in, takes one look at me and says ‘Good job Dud, now if you can get him in the throat, right below the chin, you can cut his wind pipe so he dies slowly by suffocation, and can’t cry out for help.’ ‘Good thinking dad.’ Dudley always says and then comes at me and I can see his intent in his eyes. I reach out and grab my wand but when I point it at Dudley and cast a spell, nothing happens, and then Dudley laughs and says ‘Don’t you know Potter, your not allowed to cast magic on muggles.’ Then he slashes at my throat and then everything goes dark and I usually wake up.”
By the end of the retelling Harry’s eyes had that dead look again, Fleur stood there, stunned speechless by the content of the dream. She knew something was wrong with Harry’s social skills, he had been very slow to trust her after the Triwizard Tournament, and she had noticed that at school events he had always been shy and out of the way. Even at the Yule Ball he had tried his hardest not to be noticed by the other students even though he could have had any girl he wanted there as a dance partner. And then at the ball, he had danced the mandatory two songs and then left. At first she had assumed it was because he thought he was better than the ‘commoners’ but had learned from the people at the Ravenclaw table the next day that Harry had always been like that, preferring isolation, except for a few close friends, the Weasleys, and Granger. She had come back to France wondering if there was something wrong with his emotional development, now she thought she knew there was something wrong, and she thought she might have also discovered the cause.
Fleur decided to test the waters with Harry to see if she could confirm her theory about the Dursleys being responsible for Harry’s emotional trauma. “But they wouldn’t really do that to you would they? I mean, don’t they love you?”
“Love me, bah, let me show you exactly how much they loved me.”
And drawing his wand he gave it a little flick and a pensieve appeared in mid air. Putting his wand to his temple, Harry began to withdraw a memory, once it had separated from his mind; he placed it in the pensieve.
“Go ahead, visit it, this was the present I got on my 8th birthday.” Harry said.
Fleur reached over and touched the surface of the liquid and fell down into a memory containing a much younger Harry. He was much shorter than present day Harry, but everything else seemed to be the same, long unruly hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a thin lightning scar across his forehead. At the beginning of the memory, the 8 year old Harry was laying on his bed in a very small room, (Fleur thought it looked more like the size of a closet then an actual room), he was crying. Fleur’s heart seemed to melt with compassion when Harry sobbed out “They forgot my birthday again, they forget every year.”
Suddenly the door to his room opens and Fleur gasped as she noticed that the door led into what was clearly a downstairs hallway, Harry really did sleep in a closet. A man entered and yelled “What are you doing in here boy, you should be out in the kitchen cooking breakfast, now Petunia is cooking it because I don’t have time to wait before going to work, what do you have to say for yourself boy?”
“I’m so-sorry Uncle Vernon.” Harry sobbed, “But today is my bi-birthday, and you and Aunt Petunia forgot about it.”
Uncle Vernon scrunched up his face as though trying to remember something unpleasant, “That’s right, it is your birthday today, isn’t it, how old are you now?” Fleur was appalled that Harry’s Uncle didn’t even know how old he was.
“8” Harry said hopefully, “Will I get presents?”
“Oh yea, you’ll get presents.” Uncle Vernon said grinning in a sadistic way. “Here’s what you’re getting, I’ve decided it’s time you pulled your own weight, your old enough to start doing some of the work around here. You are now responsible for doing the laundry, mowing the lawn, tending the flower garden, and re-staining the fence out back. And make sure these things get done by the end of the week, every week, except the staining, I’ll let you have the rest of the summer for that.”
Then with a malicious grin, Vernon withdrew from Harry’s closet and walked away yelling, “And tomorrow, you’re cooking breakfast boy.”
The younger Harry’s face at first registered nothing but blank shock, then laying down his face kept the same expression, but tears immediately began to fall from his eyes.
The memory ended and Fleur felt herself floating back up to the surface of the pensieve, once she had landed, Harry withdrew the memory, and placed it back in his mind, vanishing the pensieve back to wherever he kept it whenever he wasn’t using it.
Fleur looked at Harry in shock and whispered, “They really did that to you, disregarded your birthday, and gave you more work to do instead of presents?”
“It wasn’t the first time,” Harry said bitterly, “And it wasn’t the last time, the first real birthday I ever had was when Hagrid broke down the door in a shack where Uncle Vernon was trying to hide us from the wizarding world, revealed I was a wizard, and then took me to Diagon Alley to get my school things.”
“But that means you would have been 11,” Fleur said, “You spent 10 years having your birthdays ignored?”
“Yea, pretty much.” Harry said emotionlessly, “It wasn’t ever that fun at my Aunt and Uncles house, the only time I’ve really felt happy and free was at Hogwarts, and I can’t even go there anymore.”
Fleur reached out and put her arms around Harry. He sat stiff as a board in her embrace and didn’t relax again until she released him a few seconds latter.
“Fleur, really, there isn’t anything you can do for me, my trauma is more emotional than physical, please go to bed, you don’t want to be tired tomorrow on my account.”
“Harry, I won’t even be able to sleep at night if I think you are being plagued by that nightmare every night. I think there is something I could try actually, here, lay down.”
Harry lay down, and releasing a tiny portion of her allure, not enough to enthrall him, but enough to get him to relax, Fleur began to sing softly. Before drifting off to sleep, Harry thought that Fleur had beautiful voice, almost like how he imagined an angel would sound.
Fleur stayed with him, emitting the tiny portion of her allure and singing until Harry was fast asleep, then she sat there watching him for another minute, wondering how badly damaged his psyche was, if it was salvageable, and what she was going to do to fix it. Immediately a blind rage against the Dursleys surfaced, and she had to restrain herself from apparating to Number 4 and attacking everyone on the premises, burning them to bones with passion fire. ‘What’s going on with me,’ Fleur asked herself ‘Why am I thinking such violent thoughts, I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before, even if they did do wrongs to my friends.”
Confused, and tired, Fleur stood up and headed off for bed, as she lay down; she noticed a black spot on her left ring finger. ‘That’s weird;’ she thought ‘I don’t remember getting that finger dirty today.’ She rubbed at the spot on her finger for a second, and when she stopped, the spot was gone. Thinking that was that, Fleur laid down and immediately fell asleep, as she slept, she had a dream she had been having for some time of a child running up to her and hugging her, and her hugging him back, then a man who’s name she couldn’t quite place coming up behind her and hugging them both, laughing. She dreamed of this all night long, and in the morning, she remembered the dream not at all.
Well chapter 3 is done; thank you to all the people out there that reviewed the previous chapters, and remember to review this one, a writer can’t know what his audience wants unless they tell him.
Sorry for the relatively dull chapter, but I needed to set up the plot for the rest of the story, the next chapter will be much more exciting, I promise.
Until next time,
CAH11
Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, not me, I make no money on this story, if I did I probably would not be writing it, I think I could find better things to do in my time if I had millions of dollars.
Recap from chapter 2
“What do you need from me Harry?” Fleur asked.
“Asylum, both physically and politically, I need to remove myself from his control, and this was the only place I could think of.”
“I can provide the physical asylum Harry, but your going to have to talk to my father about the politics, I can’t guarantee you that myself.”
“Harry let out the breath he had been hold, he had not been sure if she would allow him to stay, and he would not have known what to do if she had sent him away.
“Thanks,” Harry said. “Thanks for everything, including saving me from those three girls.”
“You’re very welcome Harry; after all, what are friends for?”
Cah11 humbly presents
Salvation
Chapter 3: Looking to the Past, Looking to the Future.
Fleur led harry back to her house, on the way she asked Harry for as many details about Dumbledore’s betrayal as Harry was willing to tell her. Stating from where he killed Voldemort, Harry went on to tell her of Dumbledore, Mundungus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye apparating into Voldemort’s lair, Dumbledore ordering the other three to capture him, and his retaliation on the Dumbledore’s three companions.
“Tonks and Mad-Eye believed Dumbledore.” Fleur gasped. “They actually believed that you would go dark.”
“Dumbledore can be very persuasive, to most wizards in Britain; any powerful person whose loyalty to the light is in question could be the next Dark Lord. They were only trying to protect everyone else. Unfortunately for them and Dumbledore, I have no plans to die, or go dark, unfortunately, Dumbledore being the ‘savior of the light’ is inscrutable, and will be even more untouchable once he delivers to the Ministry his statement that he defeated Voldemort and then was attacked by ‘The Boy Who Lived’ without provocation.”
“Harry, you don’t really think that your Ministry will believe him do you, I mean, when they check his wand and find that he never cast any spells during his supposed ‘confrontation’ wont they realize he is lying?” Fleur asked quizzically.
“Ah Fleur, if only that were so,” Harry replied with a sad smile. “Unfortunately, Dumbledore wields too much political power in Britain to be questioned; also, most wizarding families in Britain have grown to trust Dumbledore’s word implicitly, they will believe anything he says, the fact that he has three ‘eye witnesses’ only makes his case stronger.”
“I can’t believe even Mad-Eye and Tonks believed Dumbledore, they were your friends Harry!”
“Fear will cause people to do strange things Fleur, I don’t like it either, but I can’t change it.”
At this point they arrived at Fleur’s modestly sized house, and entering, Fleur said “I’m the only one who lives here right now, it is tradition in veela culture that once a veela moves out, no one else moves into the same house with him or her unless they are married, bonded, or are relatives, this was primarily adopted to stop veela from stringing humans along, tantalizing them, but never committing to them.”
“So how will this work then?” Harry asked, “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea, and this is likely to be a long term stay, I can’t return to Britain until Dumbledore is powerless.”
“In this case, Harry I think we can bend tradition a bit, after all, I am hiding you here, not wooing you, besides I don’t think you will go out that much, not that I will stop you, but I don’t think you want to be enthralled again by any teenage veela who happens to be walking by. Heed my warning, teenage veela are not known for their foresight Harry, most will bond you without a second thought, just for the status, or your money. In their blind quest for these things, they would not even consider your feelings in the matter, only what they want.”
“Then am I really safer here then in Britain?” Harry asked indignantly, “or have I just gone from one danger to the next.”
Catching the subtle question within the question, Fleur knew she would have to word her response very carefully, so Harry did not misunderstand her and believe every bad thing said about veela were true.
“Harry, you are perfectly safe here in my house, there are very few people who come to visit me here, mostly family, who are either bonded already in the case of my grandparents and parents, or too young yet to have the veela allure in the case of my younger sister Gabriella. It is only if you leave this house that you are in danger.”
Harry nodded in understanding and then sighed and said, “Ok, where will I be sleeping?”
“There is a spare bedroom down the hall from mine, and some wizarding games downstairs in the basement. There isn’t much else to do here I’m afraid, I don’t do much here myself other than sleep, you will have to either amuse yourself here or risk going out and finding something to do in muggle Paris.”
“Thanks for everything Fleur, a place to stay, and your warning. I will have to speak to your father soon about my situation, when would be the best time him to contact him?”
“I will floo call him soon, he should be off work by now, and ask if you can see him, I’m sure he will agree to speak with you, if for no other reason then he has wanted to meet the young man who saved both his daughters in the same year.”
Harry blushed and said “Your family doesn’t owe me anything Fleur; it was nothing more than anyone else would have done for you.”
“Wrong Harry,” Fleur said smiling “No one else would have stayed to save my sister from the bottom of the lake, all the other champions stayed long enough to save their hostages, then left without another thought. You were different though, you were thinking about people other then yourself, you were genuinely concerned for her safety. And not many people would have hung around long enough in the maze to send up red sparks saving me from a much worse fate then being stunned. Most would have simply walked past thinking ‘one less champion in the competition.’”
“But Fleur, I did have those thoughts, a part of me was pleased that you were out of the running. A small part of me kept saying ‘one champion down.’”
“Ah, but here is the difference, you stayed long enough to make sure I was safe, have you ever heard the adage, your actions always speak louder then words, or in this case thoughts? You may have thought such things Harry, but in the end, your actions announce your intentions clearly, you were more worried for my overall safety then for the prize waiting at the end of the maze.”
At her mention of the cup, a shadow of depression passed in front of Harry’s face and Fleur, while pretending to not have noticed winced internally, thinking ‘ok, touchy subject, need to talk about something else.’
They stood there for a second in an uncomfortable silence before Fleur said, “Well if you will excuse me I will make that floo call home for my father, he should be off work by now, make yourself comfortable in the living room, I should only be 10 minutes at most.”
And turning she walked to the fire place and throwing a pinch of golden powder in the opening yelled, “Delacour ancestral home, Paris.” And with a whoosh was gone. Turning to the living room, Harry sat down in one of the chairs and got comfortable.
The Delacour ancestral home was quite large, 4 floors, 10 bedrooms in total, 13 bathrooms (one for each of the bedrooms and three others), two dining rooms (a formal one, and a non-formal one), a boardroom, a study, an entrance hall, and a grand sitting room. The size of the house was explained by the fact that at one point the Delacours had sheltered several veela families during conflict known to the muggles as the Second World War, but to veela it was remembered as the War of Tears. It was known thus because the leader of Germany, Adolf Hitler, who was a wizard as dark as they came, began to hunt down Jewish muggles, and other ‘undesirables’ most notably the veela. Because of this the Delacours, a well to do wizarding family, sheltered veela families from the Nazis, it was during this time that Fleur’s father met her mother and they got married, this is the point where the Delacour line was infused with veela blood.
Fleur stepped out of the fireplace in her parent’s home near Paris and started to move toward her fathers study on the second floor of the estate. She peeked in and saw her father sitting at his desk looking over some official looking paperwork. Walking over she respectfully waited for her father to finish his paragraph and then said “Father I must speak with you.”
Mr. Delacour looked up and his face split into a wide grin as he said “Fleur, how are you, I didn’t know you would be coming by today for a visit. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is mostly fine father, the store is doing well, and I am keeping out of trouble, well mostly anyway.”
“Honey, please call me Dad, or Daddy, or even Papa, none of this formal ‘father’ stuff, I get enough formal talk at work to last me through the day.” Mr. Delacour said with a twinkle in his eye.
Fleur smiled in return and said “Ok Daddy, it just feels so weird calling you by such a childish name when I’m 20 now.”
“Ah, but you’ll always be the little girl I remember running around asking more questions then you had a right, or supposedly the knowledge to be asking. Anyway, you said you had something you need to talk to me about?”
“Yes Daddy,” a serious expression came over Fleur’s face and she got right down to the problem. “Something has happened in Britain, Lord Voldemort has been defeated, you can guess by whom.”
Mr. Delacour sighed, “Harry Potter,” He waited for Fleur’s nod in the affirmative. “But of course if what you tell me about the boy is true, there was a complication that was not his fault, but puts him in mortal peril.”
“This is so, it appears a situation has arisen, and he has had to flee here to France, and has now found his way to my house through a very unique way of locating and transporting himself to the veela community where I now live. I will not go into details of what the situation is, he could better inform you than me, but it is dire, and he must see you tonight, or at your earliest convenience.”
“I have some free time right now, I can come over and talk to the boy, this paperwork can wait. After all, hearing this story will no doubt be more interesting than reading a cauldron bottoms report from that Weasley.”
“Thank you daddy, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed by the story.”
So Fleur and her Father walked to the fireplace and throwing in a pinch of floo powder each they said, “Fleur’s House, Veela Community 27.” And with a whooshing sound they were gone.
Stepping out of the fireplace one after the other, Fleur and Mr. Delacour moved immediately to the sitting room, where they found Harry asleep on one of the couches, his face had the expression of one who was enduring an agony so great, it could have overwhelmed a lesser man, and caused him to end his life to stop the pain. Walking up to him Fleur placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently saying, “Harry wake up, my father is here to see you.” Almost instantly Harry was awake and had drawn his wand so fast the other two did not know where he had pulled it from.
Harry relaxed as he became aware of the people in the room and lowered his wand saying, “Sorry, but after living in danger for so long, there are habits you pick up that might accidently hurt those you do not intend to hurt. My advice to you, if you do not want to be stunned, disarmed, and restrained, lightly tap my left shoulder, it is the safe wake-up call me and my friends have been using for the past year, do not wake me up any other way, as I will most likely injure you.”
Mr. Delacour was surprised by the boy’s fast reflexes, and appalled that a young man of 16 could have already picked up the waking habits, and twitches of a soldier. Walking over, Mr. Delacour said, “I will be sure to keep that in mind Harry, it saddens me that you have picked up such habits though.”
“They were necessary habits Mr. Delacour, if I had not picked them up, I would not be standing here right now, most likely I would be dead, and Voldemort would be attacking France with the full might of magical Britain behind him.”
“You speak of that possibility as if there was no other outcome in the case of your death, how can you know that if you had failed Voldemort would automatically win?” Mr. Delacour asked, “Surely someone else would have stood up to him.”
“I am sure many people would have stood up to him, however there are certain factors that you are unaware of, and before I make you aware of them, and before I tell you my story, a couple oaths must be made, one by me, one by you, and one by Fleur.”
“What kind of Oaths?” Fleur asked.
“I need an oath of silence from you and your father, and an oath of truthfulness from me, so you do not doubt my words, we do not have time for doubt, all events before now were preordained, but now there are endless possible futures, we must work to ensure that the best one possible becomes reality.”
Mr. Delacour and Fleur both swore a magically binding oath to never tell what they heard from Harry to another person, nor to tell anyone he was in Fleur’s house without Harry’s permission, and Harry swore a magically binding oath that everything he was about to tell them was the truth.
After the oaths were given Harry took a deep breath and told Mr. Delacour everything he told Fleur. After he was through Mr. Delacour looked very pale and said “Dumbledore betrayed you, he wants to rule magical Britain?”
“It would appear so sir; he even went so far as to ask me to commit suicide by over dosing on the draft of living death.”
Muttering to himself, Mr. Delacour said, “Great, was hoping this would not happen during my lifetime, but it would appear I must live through one more thing before I return to the Earth.”
“What do you mean Daddy?” Asked Fleur, puzzled.
“I mean honey, that the events that are playing out, may have been more preordained then even Harry knows. There was another prophesy made, the day before you assaulted Voldemort’s fortress, and its contents warned of events that sound very like these.”
England, 12 hours before Harry’s attack on Voldemort
Hermione was sitting in one of the guest rooms of Grimmald Place talking with Luna, “I want to ask Ron to be my boyfriend Luna, but I’m just not sure we have enough in common.” She said nervously.
“Well let’s think, what do you have in common?” Luna said. “You’re both friends with Harry, you both hate Voldemort for one reason or another, you’re both intelligent, maybe in different areas, but intelligent, and you have feelings each other. I would say that’s enough in common to at least give the relationship a try.”
Hermione had at first been surprised that Luna could be so perceptive, having taken her, unique personality at face value. But she had learned that once you get to know her, the unique personality was nothing but a charade to discourage people who were fair weather friends from even associating with her, deciding that no friends were better than people who pretend, but abandon you at the first sign of danger.
“That’s true, I think we could make it work, even if that is all we have in common, I expect that we will get to know each other better as we spend more time alone.” Hermione commented. Just then the two girls heard from downstairs.
“GIRLS, TIME FOR SUPPER, COME DOWN AND WASH UP.”
“COMING MRS. WEASLEY.” Hermione shouted back and standing up she started to move to the door. She was almost to it when her brain registered that Luna was not following her. Turning around she asked “Luna aren’t you…” But never finished her question, Luna was sitting erect on the bed, her eyes were glazed over and she was looking into the distance as if seeing something from very far away. Her face was entirely expressionless, and opening her mouth she spoke in a deep low monotone.
“The pieces are in place,
The events coming to conclusion,
One way or the other, the fate of two races hangs in the balance,
One the overlord, one the oppressed,
The warriors of love and desire will try to break their bondage this year,
But their success or defeat lies in the hands of one individual,
They must learn to overcome their demons,
And embrace the flames of life,
Or the world will once again be cast into darkness,
One that will have no end.”
Luna sat stock still for a second longer and then suddenly her face lost its paleness, and she was once again smiling and asked “What, did you say something?”
“N-no,” Hermione replied, “It-it’s just that… Molly called us down for dinner.” She finished hesitantly. She was about to ask if Luna remembered what she just said, but, if her attitude was any indicator, she did not. Surely she would have been acting subdued if she remembered predicting, (‘an actual prediction’ Hermione thought, ‘wow, Harry wasn’t wrong, that was just creepy.’), the revolution of an oppressed race, and that the outcome of such a revolution was dependent on one individual.
She thought about whom the ‘oppressed race’ was, she thought she knew who the overlords were, no other race on Earth acted more domineering then the wizarding race, the oppressed race could be any number of peoples. The goblins, the vampires, the werewolves, she shuddered at the thought; if one of those three races were planning rebellion the conflict would be long and bloody. If it were vampires or werewolves, every victim of the conflicts would increase their ranks, and if it were goblins, they would need to enter their magically protected domain and siege their cities. In any of the scenarios, many lives would be lost. ‘But wait a minute,’ Hermione thought, ‘there was a clue, Luna referred to them as “the warriors of love and desire”, but who could that be? I don’t remember any race ever being referred to as the “warriors of love and desire”. If it were just “the creatures of love and desire” I would have guessed the veela, but I would hardly call them warriors, they did not even participate in the great conflict that consumed the world during WW2.’
Thoughts no more clear then they were before, Hermione put it from her mind, saying to herself ‘I’ll come back to that latter, for now I need to concentrate on asking Ron out, why he can’t just do it himself I will never know, where is his Gryffindor bravery?’
After the visit from Mr. Delacour, Harry had spent the last few days in relative inactivity in Fleur’s house recovering his strength after battling Voldemort, Dumbledore, and then making an international apparation jump from Britain to France. Mr. Delacour had refused to tell Harry the contents of the prophesy because he had been sworn to secrecy about such matters and needed the authorization of the Prime Minister before he could reveal its contents.
A few days had passed and Fleur was walking home from work. She had been working late; taking care of inventory because her co-worker, his name was Ben, had not come to work again that day. ‘If he’s not careful, he’ll get himself fired.’ Fleur thought, ‘not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.’ Entering her house, she locked the door and headed up stairs. As she walked down the hall to her room she passed by the door of the guest room Harry was staying in when she heard a small whimper float through the door. Pausing for a moment, she tiptoed up to the door and pressed her ear against it, what she heard unsettled her slightly. She could hear someone, most probably Harry sobbing softly and crying out, reaching out with her powers, Fleur probed the room for emotions, what she felt made her stumble back reeling, as if a physical blow had fallen on her.
Veela have powers other than the ability to call passion fire, or to enthrall members of the opposite sex, they are also adept at sensing the emotions of other individuals, an ability that harkens back to ancient times, when they used the ability to detect the intent of outsiders, to discover whether they be friend or foe.
The emotions of pain and lose coming from inside the bedroom were so great, so unrestrained that Fleur had never sensed their like before. It was as if the pain and agony of the world were emanating from one person. Opening the door quietly, as she had no wish to be stunned by Harry accidentally, Fleur slipped into the room and walked over to the bed. Harry lay there, tears streaming from his eyes, his body covered in sweat, muttering “Please, stop it, your hurting me, please stop.”
Deciding she could not leave this alone, Fleur reached down and gently tapped Harry on his left shoulder. Harry stilled and then slowly opened his eyes. When he saw Fleur looking down on him with concern, he muttered, “Sorry for keeping you up, please Fleur, go back to sleep.”
“What were you dreaming about?” Fleur asked.
“Nothing, Just a stupid nightmare, I’m fine.”
Fleur stared down at him in disbelief and said “Harry, Veela are natural empaths, we can sense strong emotions, and the strength of the emotions I sensed through that door almost knocked me over, and they weren’t pleasant emotions either. And even if I wasn’t an epithet, you were sobbing in your sleep, and you’re covered in sweat. So don’t give me any bull about it just being a bad dream.”
“Sorry Fleur, but I never had a, what would you call it, a happy family experience after my parents died, and I don’t even remember them, all I have is bad memories from my Aunt and Uncle’s house.”
“What do you dream about, maybe if you tell me; it will make you feel better.”
Sighing Harry told her about his dream where he is at Privet Drive sitting in his room upstairs. He told her how after about a minute Dudley would walk in and begin to insult Harry about having no parents. He described how he made a move forward to try to push Dudley out of the room, when from no where there was a knife in Dudley’s hand. “And he always says, ‘I got you now Potter, you just tried to assault me. I am now legally allowed to defend myself.’ And then he comes at me and starts slashing at me. Soon I’m covered in cuts and then my Uncle Vernon walks in, takes one look at me and says ‘Good job Dud, now if you can get him in the throat, right below the chin, you can cut his wind pipe so he dies slowly by suffocation, and can’t cry out for help.’ ‘Good thinking dad.’ Dudley always says and then comes at me and I can see his intent in his eyes. I reach out and grab my wand but when I point it at Dudley and cast a spell, nothing happens, and then Dudley laughs and says ‘Don’t you know Potter, your not allowed to cast magic on muggles.’ Then he slashes at my throat and then everything goes dark and I usually wake up.”
By the end of the retelling Harry’s eyes had that dead look again, Fleur stood there, stunned speechless by the content of the dream. She knew something was wrong with Harry’s social skills, he had been very slow to trust her after the Triwizard Tournament, and she had noticed that at school events he had always been shy and out of the way. Even at the Yule Ball he had tried his hardest not to be noticed by the other students even though he could have had any girl he wanted there as a dance partner. And then at the ball, he had danced the mandatory two songs and then left. At first she had assumed it was because he thought he was better than the ‘commoners’ but had learned from the people at the Ravenclaw table the next day that Harry had always been like that, preferring isolation, except for a few close friends, the Weasleys, and Granger. She had come back to France wondering if there was something wrong with his emotional development, now she thought she knew there was something wrong, and she thought she might have also discovered the cause.
Fleur decided to test the waters with Harry to see if she could confirm her theory about the Dursleys being responsible for Harry’s emotional trauma. “But they wouldn’t really do that to you would they? I mean, don’t they love you?”
“Love me, bah, let me show you exactly how much they loved me.”
And drawing his wand he gave it a little flick and a pensieve appeared in mid air. Putting his wand to his temple, Harry began to withdraw a memory, once it had separated from his mind; he placed it in the pensieve.
“Go ahead, visit it, this was the present I got on my 8th birthday.” Harry said.
Fleur reached over and touched the surface of the liquid and fell down into a memory containing a much younger Harry. He was much shorter than present day Harry, but everything else seemed to be the same, long unruly hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a thin lightning scar across his forehead. At the beginning of the memory, the 8 year old Harry was laying on his bed in a very small room, (Fleur thought it looked more like the size of a closet then an actual room), he was crying. Fleur’s heart seemed to melt with compassion when Harry sobbed out “They forgot my birthday again, they forget every year.”
Suddenly the door to his room opens and Fleur gasped as she noticed that the door led into what was clearly a downstairs hallway, Harry really did sleep in a closet. A man entered and yelled “What are you doing in here boy, you should be out in the kitchen cooking breakfast, now Petunia is cooking it because I don’t have time to wait before going to work, what do you have to say for yourself boy?”
“I’m so-sorry Uncle Vernon.” Harry sobbed, “But today is my bi-birthday, and you and Aunt Petunia forgot about it.”
Uncle Vernon scrunched up his face as though trying to remember something unpleasant, “That’s right, it is your birthday today, isn’t it, how old are you now?” Fleur was appalled that Harry’s Uncle didn’t even know how old he was.
“8” Harry said hopefully, “Will I get presents?”
“Oh yea, you’ll get presents.” Uncle Vernon said grinning in a sadistic way. “Here’s what you’re getting, I’ve decided it’s time you pulled your own weight, your old enough to start doing some of the work around here. You are now responsible for doing the laundry, mowing the lawn, tending the flower garden, and re-staining the fence out back. And make sure these things get done by the end of the week, every week, except the staining, I’ll let you have the rest of the summer for that.”
Then with a malicious grin, Vernon withdrew from Harry’s closet and walked away yelling, “And tomorrow, you’re cooking breakfast boy.”
The younger Harry’s face at first registered nothing but blank shock, then laying down his face kept the same expression, but tears immediately began to fall from his eyes.
The memory ended and Fleur felt herself floating back up to the surface of the pensieve, once she had landed, Harry withdrew the memory, and placed it back in his mind, vanishing the pensieve back to wherever he kept it whenever he wasn’t using it.
Fleur looked at Harry in shock and whispered, “They really did that to you, disregarded your birthday, and gave you more work to do instead of presents?”
“It wasn’t the first time,” Harry said bitterly, “And it wasn’t the last time, the first real birthday I ever had was when Hagrid broke down the door in a shack where Uncle Vernon was trying to hide us from the wizarding world, revealed I was a wizard, and then took me to Diagon Alley to get my school things.”
“But that means you would have been 11,” Fleur said, “You spent 10 years having your birthdays ignored?”
“Yea, pretty much.” Harry said emotionlessly, “It wasn’t ever that fun at my Aunt and Uncles house, the only time I’ve really felt happy and free was at Hogwarts, and I can’t even go there anymore.”
Fleur reached out and put her arms around Harry. He sat stiff as a board in her embrace and didn’t relax again until she released him a few seconds latter.
“Fleur, really, there isn’t anything you can do for me, my trauma is more emotional than physical, please go to bed, you don’t want to be tired tomorrow on my account.”
“Harry, I won’t even be able to sleep at night if I think you are being plagued by that nightmare every night. I think there is something I could try actually, here, lay down.”
Harry lay down, and releasing a tiny portion of her allure, not enough to enthrall him, but enough to get him to relax, Fleur began to sing softly. Before drifting off to sleep, Harry thought that Fleur had beautiful voice, almost like how he imagined an angel would sound.
Fleur stayed with him, emitting the tiny portion of her allure and singing until Harry was fast asleep, then she sat there watching him for another minute, wondering how badly damaged his psyche was, if it was salvageable, and what she was going to do to fix it. Immediately a blind rage against the Dursleys surfaced, and she had to restrain herself from apparating to Number 4 and attacking everyone on the premises, burning them to bones with passion fire. ‘What’s going on with me,’ Fleur asked herself ‘Why am I thinking such violent thoughts, I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before, even if they did do wrongs to my friends.”
Confused, and tired, Fleur stood up and headed off for bed, as she lay down; she noticed a black spot on her left ring finger. ‘That’s weird;’ she thought ‘I don’t remember getting that finger dirty today.’ She rubbed at the spot on her finger for a second, and when she stopped, the spot was gone. Thinking that was that, Fleur laid down and immediately fell asleep, as she slept, she had a dream she had been having for some time of a child running up to her and hugging her, and her hugging him back, then a man who’s name she couldn’t quite place coming up behind her and hugging them both, laughing. She dreamed of this all night long, and in the morning, she remembered the dream not at all.
Well chapter 3 is done; thank you to all the people out there that reviewed the previous chapters, and remember to review this one, a writer can’t know what his audience wants unless they tell him.
Sorry for the relatively dull chapter, but I needed to set up the plot for the rest of the story, the next chapter will be much more exciting, I promise.
Until next time,
CAH11
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