Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Salvation

Meetings, both Pure and Nefarious

by cah11 7 reviews

The decision of the veela council, and the unveiling of Dumbledore's plot to take over Wizarding Britain

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Romance - Characters: Fleur,Harry - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2010-11-30 - Updated: 2010-11-30 - 5955 words

Hey again, hope you’re all waiting with baited breath to discover the verdict of the veela council, and to see what Dumbledore’s backup plan is, because these are the events covered in this chapter. ;) As to those of you worried that Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and have fallen down a plot hole and disappeared, don’t worry that is addressed as well.

Disclaimer: Let me check, nope still don’t own the HP Universe, would be nice to find a time machine, or a time turner somewhere, that way I can go back in time with manuscript copies of HP and claim them as my own before JKR can even think about writing them, but as time travel is impossible according to the laws of physics as we know them, I’m out of luck, damn.

Recap of chapter 9:

And with that, the Headmaster walked out of his office toward the kitchens, several faint clinks emanating from under his robes, as if there were several glass phials concealed in them.
Cah11 humbly presents


Chapter10: Meetings, both Pure and Nefarious

Harry pulled nervously at the neck of the expensive dress robes he was wearing. He was about to meet the most powerful veela in the world and he was definitely more nervous than Fleur seemed to think he should be. He had tried to explain his fears to his bond mate all the way to the wooded site the enclave would be held at. He had tried to explain to her about the number of allures he would be assaulted with before she quashed that excuse saying that he had the most powerful allure of anyone alive. He next tried to escape saying that they would fry him to a crisp using passion fire before she reminded him that as he was fully bonded to a phoenix, the flames would not hurt him. Have all his excuses shot down with no effort on Fleur’s part, Harry had finally broken down and admitted that he was terrified and had no idea what he was going to say to the clan chieftains when he spoke to them. After all how do you explain to others that you accidentally became the king of the veela, accidentally found your queen and forever bond-mate by being enthralled and kidnapped by a group of teenage veela who happened to live in the same veela community as said bond-mate, and accidentally bonded a phoenix to himself all in the course of two weeks.

Fleur took pity on Harry after sharing his feelings in the now fully developed bond and pulled him into a particularly wooded part of the forest for a quick pep up session to boost his confidence and moral. After they returned, Harry had a goofy grin on his face, and Fleur had a satisfied smile indicating what she had done to ‘boost his confidence.’

As the time for the meeting to begin drew nearer, Harry found himself growing nervous again, not nearly to the same level as before mind you, but a little stage fright was a healthy thing, right? Soon Harry found himself traveling with the entire Delacour family to a large clearing in the forest which was populated with many logs and stumps that were obviously meant to be sat on. As the family plus Harry took a seat, a rich feminine voice called out for quiet over an invisible voice projecting system and Harry could only assume that the veela talking was using a sonorous charm. As soon as everyone was quiet, the voice began to read what sounded like family names from a long list in front of her, as she did the family whose name she called stood from their seats for a moment so she could mark them present before sitting down again. When the Delacour’s name was called, Harry hesitated to get up, but Fleur grabbed him by his upper arm and pulled him up straight with the rest of the family whispering, “Harry, you are as much a part of the Delacour family as I am, never doubt that.” Harry grinned in response and hugged his mate happily until they were forced to release each other so they could resume their seats.

“We are here today for our biannual discussion of the status of veela around the world, and to take action if we deem it necessary. I have also been informed by Mrs. Delacour that there is an urgent matter that needs to be brought to our attention immediately. So without further ado I call the Matriarch of the Delacour Family forward to present their matter before us.” The veela then sat down as Mrs. Delacour stood and moved to the podium at the front. Once she was standing before the mass of people who were in attendance she cleared her throat and spoke in a crisp clear voice insuring she would be heard by all.

“Chieftains, fellow veela, I am both honored and saddened to stand before you this day, the tidings I bring are both happy and troubling.” Here Mrs. Delacour paused for dramatic effect before continuing on. “We have information of recent developments that have taken place in England over the past two weeks. For those of you who do not know, You Know Who has been killed by one Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived.” The roar of approval after this statement was such that Harry almost believed that the sonorous charm must extend beyond the podium into the crowd, but he really couldn’t see the point of that and put it down to the number of people in attendance. “There was however one complication, Dumbledore it seems is not as light side oriented as we had first believed. Mere minutes after Harry defeated You Know Who; Dumbledore showed up and immediately tried to kill Harry.” The silence from the crowd was tangible as the 5,000 plus veela tried to comprehend the possibility that Dumbledore was not as benign as they had thought.

One female veela toward the front stood up and scowling up at Mrs. Delacour asked, “How did you come by this information? Veela are not allowed in England, and I doubt you have informants in a country that you visited but once for an interschool competition.”

“We have received our information form a very credible source. In fact he was there the night of Dumbledore’s betrayal.”

“Who?” the veela asked, her eyes narrowing.

Mrs. Delacour gestured for Harry to stand then said “Harry Potter.”

At first no one reacted, then a split second latter every veela was standing, shouting at Mrs. Delacour, hurling abuse at her for bringing what they thought was a non-veela to the enclave.
Raising her wand, Mrs. Delacour used several blasting hexes to regain quiet before saying, “Yes, yes we know Harry was not a veela, but things have changed, including Harry. It appears that Harry had more veela blood in him than anyone thought. In fact he apparently comes from a line of veela older and nobler than any of ours.”

“Whose line does Harry belong to?” Asked another family matriarch looking interested.
“It would appear that Harry is descended from veela nobility of the highest order. That’s right.” Mrs. Delacour said pleasantly as several eyebrows raised to their owner’s hairlines. “Harry is directly descended from the last veela king and queen.”

Once again this revelation produced shocked silence as everyone turned to look at the boy who was still standing at the back, turning red in the face all the while. Then chaos erupted again as every veela not connected to the Delacours began to yell obscenities at Mrs. Delacour and Harry. Several cursed Mrs. Delacour for being hoodwinked by a 16 year old boy, while others shouted at Harry for having the audacity to proclaim himself king of the veela. Harry’s temper began to rise as the veela hurled insults and obscenities at him and the only mother figure he had ever known. Pointing at him and demanding his immediate obliviation and deportation to Britain, it wasn’t until one veela suggested extermination by passion fire that Harry finally lost control of his anger. Shaking with the effort of containing himself he didn’t notice that red flames had surrounded his form and that he had sprouted feathers from his arms to his head and down his legs until he noticed that that all shouting had ceased and everyone was merely staring at him in dumbfounded astonishment. Looking at himself he had to admit that he looked rather intimidating.

Sensing Harry’s anger, Fawkes flamed into the meeting area and settled on Harry’s shoulder causing the crowd of veela to gasp and change demeanors from murderous to what approached awe.
“Harry, please come forward.” Mrs. Delacour asked.

Harry made his way to the front still in his combat form; the aura he projected around himself caused other veela to automatically move out of his way clearing a path to the front. Once he got there, he relaxed his mind and he transformed back to his more human looking form, and Mrs. Delacour pulled Harry up to the podium whispering so only he could hear. “They’re all yours My King.” Then giving Harry an encouraging smile, Mrs. Delacour stepped down from the podium.
So, there Harry stood. Looking out over the heads of thousands of veela waiting with baited breath for him to speak, to tell them how he had made the transformation from The Boy Who Lived, to veela royalty. Of course it was just Harry’s luck that his mind was completely blank, he had no idea what to say.

“Harry, try opening your mouth.” Mrs. Delacour said in a very loud whisper that carried to the front row of seats. Those that heard what Mrs. Delacour had said chuckled amused at Harry’s now bright red face.

“Right, sorry.” Harry began rather lamely. “Right, so you want to know how I became like I am. Well it’s not a pleasant story, and it’s quite long---.”

“Please Your Majesty, we have all day.” Mrs. Delacour assured him.

“Alright then, I don’t know how many of you will believe me, but here is my story.”

Over the next hour, Harry told the entire enclave of his adventure to where he stood, leaving out few details, (he didn’t think the whole veela nation had to know every detail of his love life with Fleur, but did inform them that he had sealed the bond with her.) Once his tail was told he fell silent, waiting for their reaction. A few seconds passed as everyone came to grips with the hardships that the boy had faced. Some even were compelled to disbelieve the story, but everyone could see the phoenix still perched on Harry’s shoulder, and the ring like mark that shown black against the pale skin of Fleur’s finger. Slowly most people accepted that the tale he had just told was too fantastic to have been made up and so it must be true.

A single solitary matriarch stood and walked to the front with everyone’s eyes on her. Once she was standing in front of the podium she spoke, “Harry James Potter, I am Jennesa Belmont, one of the most powerful full blooded veelas in the world, and the most powerful tested veela present. I challenge you to a battle of wills, if you defeat me, then I will willingly bow to you as our king, if however you lose, I ask that you leave us at once, never to return to the veela nation. This is a test.” The last was shouted over the cries of many who thought she was being disrespectful. “A test to make sure he has the power to lead us, if he is not impervious to the allure of other veela, then he can be manipulated, and I personally don’t want a puppet on the throne.” Turning to Harry she raised an eye brow and said. “Well what do you say Potter? Concede defeat and leave in shame? Or challenge me for what you think is your rightful place?”
Of course Jennesa wasn’t really giving Harry much of a choice. He had to accept the challenge, or he was basically admitting to cowardice.

“I accept your challenge Jennesa Belmont, when and where do you want the challenge to take place?”

“Right here, right now, I want to have a final decision quickly so we can get on with the other business that needs to be attended to.” With that the matriarch began to walk away from Harry who stepped down from the podium and lined up opposite Madam Belmont who had stopped ten feet away and then composed herself, getting ready for the challenge.

Mrs. Delacour walked up behind Harry and said, “Remember, you are king, which means that you have the most powerful allure here. Now go out there and win, remember to think happy thoughts.”
Harry nodded and then turned to face Jennesa. Not knowing when the competition was actually supposed to start, Harry was afraid to release his allure for fear of being called a cheater and therefore forced to forfeit.

Fleur was nervous, she had been sure that Harry would be challenged by someone in the audience, but had not expected to be challenged by one of the most powerful full-blooded veela in the world. Feeling Harry’s anxiety, Fleur gathered up all her courage and belief in him and forced it down the bond to her mate. Harry turned and smiled at her in thanks before resuming his position, staring at Jennesa.

An impromptu referee was found in the audience and walked forward to cast the wards necessary to block Harry’s and Jennesa’s allures from affecting the crowd. As soon as the wards were up, the referee call out to Harry and Jennesa separately to make sure they were ready. Both answered in the affirmative. Then the referee shouted, “You may begin.”

Harry gasped, startled as Jennesa’s allure crashed into him. It would be so easy to just let go into the allures embrace he thought, Jennesa was already very beautiful despite her fifty odd years, and the allure made her seem just that much more appealing. Then a voice that sounded like Fleur’s spoke in his head. ‘Harry what are you doing? You are letting her win! Think of happy thoughts and release your allure to fight her off!’ The voice helped him come back to himself and he found that somehow he had ended up nearly four feet closer to Jennesa then he had started. Harry flushed, embarrassed that he had nearly lost the challenge without even putting up a fight. Fleur had explained that in a Battle of Wills a loser was declared when one person forfeited, or one person gave into their desire enough to come within touching distance of their opponent.

Quickly thinking of his feelings for Fleur, Harry immersed himself in the memories of what they had done the night he had fully bonded with her. He thought of the family that he now had with the Delacours, and the thought that soon he would be able to try and discover if his friends had really betrayed him or not. Many would question if the last thought was really happy, but Harry thought that he would be able to explain to them Dumbledore’s manipulations and had to believe that they would believe them. He had always counted Ron and Hermione as his older brother and sister, and now with his marriage to Fleur, he considered Ginny a younger sister.
Jennesa had been grinning at the beginning of the challenge as Harry’s face became amorous and dreamlike. Slowly, his eyes on her the whole time, he began to walk toward her as if he were hypnotized, which in a way he was she thought amusedly. Then, only six feet from her, something changed in his eyes, and the dreamy look on his face disappeared to be replaced by a blush as deep as any she had seen. Then slowly his face filled with determination as his allure came out in full force, and it was at that moment that Jennesa knew she was in trouble. She had had her allure going full power to try to end the challenge quickly, but she was being quickly overwhelmed by an allure so strong that it seemed to cut straight through hers and took her breath away. A slight breeze seemed to blow though the boy’s hair, and his eyes seemed to draw her in. she felt herself drowning in his vivid green eyes and without thinking about it, her body began to move toward him. Her mind was beyond rational thought now, all she could do was move forward, trying to get as close to those eyes as she could so she could become lost in them completely. As soon as she could she moved into touching distance and reached out and took his hand. The instant her hand touched his, the challenge ended and the referee hastily manipulated the shield so it was between Harry and Jennesa, cutting off the allure that had so completely enthralled one of the most powerful matriarchs in the world.

“The winner of the Battle of Wills is Harry James Potter.” The referee announced. “Any who would contest the outcome, let your complaint be heard now.” No one spoke.

“Well done Mr. Potter.” Jennesa complimented, “You have indeed proved yourself worthy in my eyes to be the Monarch of our nation.” Raising her voice for all those present to hear she then announced, “I Jennesa Belmont hereby swear mine and my family’s undying loyalty to one Harry James Potter in accordance with him being the ruling monarch of the veela. So mote be it.”
Upon Harry’s acceptance of the oath, Jennesa fell to her knees at Harry’s feet and bowed her head in supplication. One by one the other family matriarchs present swore their family’s loyalty to Harry and then the family fell to their knees bowing until Harry found himself standing alone in a sea of kneeling bodies and bowed heads.

Thus began the reign of Harry James Potter the first, first king of the veela in nearly five hundred years.

Hogwarts school train, second carriage down, fourth compartment, 2 hours before the train’s arrival at Hogwarts.

Hermione was not feeling well; she hadn’t been since Harry had disappeared. It had started as a feeling in the back of her mind that something was off about Dumbledore’s accusations against Harry. There was no way the Harry she knew would kill and torture others merely for the pleasure of it. In fact the only time Harry had been cruel at all was when he hit Bellatrix with the Cruciatous curse, and let’s face it the bitch really deserved far worse than that.
She had talked to Ron about her feelings, but he had brushed them off saying that if Harry had really gone dark as Dumbledore said, then he was not the innocent boy they had known. Rather he would be a dark, twisted, insane version of the Boy-Who-Lived, or as some were calling him now, the Boy-Who-Fell. By the time term had rolled around she was actually beginning to feel physically ill at the thought of what Dumbledore had said about Harry, but the thing that made her feel even worse was the memory of how she had spoken out against her friend in The Prophet. It had gotten to the point that she was starting to avoid spicy foods, and other things that were hard on the stomach for fear of ulcers.

What Hermione did not know was that due to their magic, every witch and wizard had what the muggles commonly called, the ‘sixth sense’ which if they listened to it, helped them uncover blatant dishonesty, and steered them clear of betrayers. Unfortunately, many pure-blooded wizards that had been raised in Wizarding society grew up around so much dishonesty and betrayal that their children grew to ignore the ‘sixth sense’. At the same time, muggleborns and half-bloods rarely knew of their ‘sixth sense’ because of overexposure to science fiction and other genres of movies that used such ‘sixth senses’ and portrayed them as fantastic abilities that no one in real life could possibly possess.

So Hermione passed off the warning feelings she was getting as coming down with stomach flu and not a sign that every moment she grew closer and closer to someone who wished to perform an act that would fit in perfectly with one of her more vivid nightmares.

Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office, one hour before the train’s arrival

Dumbledore sat in his office contemplating the events that were about to unfold. Truth be told, he had really not wanted to have to take this step, if something went wrong then his plans would be set back several decades, if not indefinitely. If only Potter had not stolen his phoenix and pushed him to take these measures. The headmaster stood with a groan, already his magical reserves were waning, he needed a fresh injection, and soon, or his body would start to deteriorate at an exponentially increasing rate. Every movement was difficult now as he forced 150 year old limbs that felt every year they had been around to carry him from his office to the Great Hall. He had to start there now, if he didn’t he would miss the beginning of the opening feast, and that was not an appointment he could miss.

Entrance Hall, Hogwarts, just before the opening feast.

Ron and Hermione walked into the castle and began to make their way to the Great Hall for the feast. The closer Hermione got though, the more ill she felt, finally succumbing to the pains in her stomach, Hermione told Ron. “Go on ahead without me; I’m just going to nip upstairs to the medical ward to get something for this stomach ache.”

“Alright.” Ron answered looking concerned. “See you at the feast then.” And with that he walked into the Great Hall.

Hermione quickly ran up the stairs, arriving at the door to the ward right as Madam Pomfrey was leaving it.

“Mrs. Granger, what are you doing here?” asked the matron looking concerned.

“Excuse me Madam Pomfrey, but do you have a potion on hand to help me with this stomach ache?” Hermione begged. “It’s been hurting all day and I can’t get rid of it.”

“Well dear, I do believe we have a potion on hand that just might do the trick, let me take a stroll through my office and find it for you.”

A few minutes later, the concerned matron returned with a vial full of a light blue potion and handing it to Hermione said, “There you go dear, that should get rid of the pain as well as heal whatever is bothering you. It will take a few minutes to work so I want you to lay down for the next ten minutes, after which you may get up and go back down to the feast. There should be no ill effects however, if you feel sick again tomorrow come and find me and I will do a more thorough scan to find out specifically what is wrong.”

“Thanks Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione responded, fervently uncorking the potion and downing it in one go. Then she lay down on the nearest bed, casting a spell to let her know when ten minutes had passed. Knowing that Hermione was a model student and that there was nothing else she could do presently, Madam Pomfrey decided to head down to the feast leaving Hermione in the Hospital Wing. She set her own spell to alert her after fifteen minutes, telling herself that if Hermione had not come down after that time she would come back up to check on her.
Great Hall, just after the sorting ceremony.

Dumbledore was secretly nervous, the stunt he was about to pull was unprecedented, in fact no one had ever attempted to try what he was about to on such a large scale before. Luckily for him, most of the ‘participants’ would be underdeveloped children who could be easily overcome. No, his real concern was the teaching staff; they would not be as easily tricked, but it had to be done, the greater good demanded it. After the last first year student had gotten their to their seat and the sorting hat was taken away, Dumbledore stood and raised his arms in his customary gesture as if to embrace the whole hall, and said, “I have only one word of advice. Eat.”

Many students cried out in pleasure as the tables in the hall filled with food and drink. Everyone quickly dug in, with the notable exception of the Headmaster, who took some food and merely played with it on his plate. Minerva noticed and asked, “What’s wrong Albus?”

Dumbledore was annoyed that he was distracted from his mental countdown on what was about to happen, but fixing a rueful smile on his face answered his deputy headmistress. “Oh, just thinking about Harry, and about how he should be here with us now, enjoying the opening feast of his seventh and final year here. I don’t know Minerva, first Tom, now Harry, maybe it is time for me to retire after this year.”

Minerva was shocked by her old friend’s thoughts, and let him know herself. “Albus, you have done nothing wrong, Tom and Harry both made their own decisions about their own paths, there was nothing else you could have done. You’re a great Headmaster, don’t let the falling of two of your formal pupils distract you from the many students that go through this school and turn into respectable, successful members of society, all under your supervision.”

Dumbledore’s expression brightened immediately and he said, “Thank you Minerva, I have been wondering for days if my time to leave had finally come, but thank you for settling that issue for me.”

“You’re welcome Albus.” Minerva replied graciously, before raising her goblet to her lips and swallowing some of her wine. Not more than five seconds later, a loud crash was heard from around the hall as every living person save one suddenly passed out sound asleep onto the tables and into the food in front of them. Dumbledore inspected the hall making sure that all the students and teachers had ingested at least one mouthful of the spiked food and drink and were safely asleep. As soon as he had assured himself that every living thing other than him was trapped in the realm of Morpheus, the Headmaster rose from his seat and casting a powerful exorcism ward, forced the ghosts from the Great Hall much to their anger and confusion.
Walking to the center of the room, Dumbledore waved his wand in a complicated pattern that when finished revealed the hall to be filled with runes drawn all over the walls, the floor, and even on the ceiling. Being careful to articulate his words very carefully, Dumbledore began to speak in an old, largely forgotten language, performing a ritual of the darkest intent.
Dumbledore’s plan was as simple as it was genius, he needed more magic to keep himself alive, therefore he had visited the elves in the kitchens handing them several potion phials filled with a time reactive sleeping draft, telling them to add the potions to all the food and all the drink. Once the potion had activated and everyone was asleep, Dumbledore would perform a dark ritual that would bind the souls of every witch and wizard in the room to his own, thus tying their magical cores to his as well. There were of coarse other benefits; those bound by the spell would be unquestioningly loyal to Dumbledore, doing anything he said, as well as allowing him to absorb their family lines, and thus their votes in the Wizengamot into the Dumbledore line. Seeing how every family of high standing in Britain sent their son or daughter to Hogwarts, this essentially meant that Dumbledore was absorbing every vote in the Wizengamot into his own. As soon as the ritual had been completed and Dumbledore felt the bonds settle over all the others in the hall, he became the virtual ruler of magical Britain.

Hermione was now feeling much better and made her way back down to the Great Hall. Now that the stomach pains were gone, she was feeling extremely hungry and hoped with a smirk that Ron had contained himself and left some food for her.

Walking down the main staircase to the Entrance Hall, Hermione thought it was odd that all the ghosts in the school seemed to be gathered around the doors to the Great Hall, not thinking anything of it, Hermione walked through the crowd (literally) and tried to open the big double doors. To her puzzlement they refused to open.

“Why can’t I get in?” Hermione asked Sir Nikolas who was floating nearby.

“No idea.” Sir Nikolas stated, sounding more than a bit perturbed. “The feast was progressing as it always does, and then all of a sudden everyone in the hall stopped and then seemed to fall unconscious. Well, everyone except Dumbledore that is.” The ghost amended.

The uneasy feeling that Hermione had had before came back full force and she suddenly had a burning desire to be anywhere but the inside castle. Moving away from the double doors, Hermione made her way across the Entrance Hall to the big main doors which she unlatched and pulled open. Immediately the doors to the Great Hall banged open and Dumbledore strode out to stare at Hermione, the rage in his eyes caused by her evading his trap. Lifting his wand Dumbledore said “Mrs. Granger, kindly follow me back into the hall so you may be properly bound to me.”

“What?” Hermione asked in blank shock. “What do you mean so I can be bound to you?”
“It’s very simple.” Dumbledore explained in a condescending voice. “I perform a ritual that binds your soul to mine to increase my already considerable power, and then you act like a perfect little drone and do you school work and act like your normal self, almost like you aren’t bound at all. The only difference being that you will be slightly less powerful due to me drawing on an inconsequential amount of your magic to fuel my body and any spells I have to cast that day.”

Hermione stumbled back at the Headmaster’s admonishment that he was essentially trying to enslave her, a concept that she had despised since she had learned of the enslavement of house elves. She understood now that the elves had to be bonded to a house to stay alive and sane, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. The concept of enslaving another human being filled her with revulsion, and Hermione immediately took another step back as Dumbledore took a step forward.

“No Headmaster, I will not hand myself over to be unresistingly turned into a slave for your benefit. I would sooner die than surrender my humanity to another.”

“Then I’m sorry it must be this way.” The Dumbledore whispered. Pointing a finger at Hermione he yelled out to the Great Hall. “Capture her if you can, kill her if she makes it to the gates, no one must know of my power yet.” With that chaos reigned as every student and teacher in the school flooded out of the Great Hall headed for the one muggleborn witch who had dared to stand against Dumbledore. Paling, said witch immediately turned and sprinted full out toward the gates, dodging left and right to avoid stunners, nonlethal hexes and jinxes, as well as a few debilitating and borderline dark curses that she thought had been thrown by Dumbledore himself. At first she thought that she would have no chance to reach the gate, but she quickly realized that even though there were many more of them then her, she was in much better physical shape than most of her peers, and could sprint further than any of them with the exception of those that were on the quidditch teams. As she neared the main gates, she prayed that she would be lucky for a few more seconds and could make her escape. She didn’t know where she was going to go; only that anywhere was better than here.

And so as she made it past the wards she immediately began to turn on the spot, and did something she was warned to never, ever do under any circumstances by her apparition instructor at the Ministry the day she got her license. Hermione Granger prepared herself to make a blind apparition jump, fully aware that she could easily land herself anywhere on the globe, from the bottom of the deepest trench to the top of the highest mountain. As she was finishing the turn into darkness, she felt a stabbing pain in her side, but ignored it, any distractions now could cause her to lose her focus and she wouldn’t apparate. She knew she had made it when she was surrounded by the crushing darkness of apparition. Sighing in relief to herself, she tried to get a general feel for which way her magic was taking her, only knowing that it was leading her south by southeast, directly toward France. Suddenly the bands around her chest exploded and Hermione found herself standing in a crowd of tents, all of whom were inhabited by what appeared to be veela, as several were standing around, looking surprised and alarmed at her sudden appearance.

As she began to get feeling back in her body, she noticed that the stabbing pain in her side was starting to get worse. Looking down, Hermione discovered that someone, she guessed Dumbledore had managed to land one solitary hit on her, but she thought the one curse that connected might have been all that was necessary. Her side had a large puncture wound comparable in size to those made by .50 caliber rounds, which was now bleeding quite copiously. As her knees buckled and she began to fall, Hermione thought for one fleeting instant before darkness claimed her that she had seen her friend Harry running toward her, a look of terror on his face.

Sorry to all you Hermione lovers out there, but I needed a legitimate reason for Harry to want to return to Britain for retribution beyond the thought of personal revenge. The Harry in my story just has such a low self-esteem that he feels it’s not worth fighting a war over his personal status in Britain. However, now a friend is involved, and as we all know, Harry would go to hell and back for his friends. For those of you who claim that Harry doesn’t know that Hermione is a friend again, if you saw a former friend dying of extreme blood loss, I hope you would help them regardless of what arguments you had in the past, if not, then you guys are real cold sons of bitches.
Alright, chapter 10 done please review but don’t flame, flames will be put where they belong, in the trash, and their writers will be banned.
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