Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Slayer, The Avatar And The Guardian Of Light
Chapter 11 - Rescued By An Angel
Dimension: 563 - Earth
Date: 27th July 2001 AD
Country: France - The French Riviera - Marseeleveyre Mountains
Location: Chateau Delacour
Time: Morning
Harry Potter very slowly opened his eyes; the slight temperature he retained brought back the memories of his return to Pivet Drive.
Dumbledore had decided that he would be returning to the Dursley's again, to give him a chance to mourn before school started up again, it was stupid really, no one can get over a persons death in just six weeks, at least not without counselling or people to talk or mourn with.
When he had returned via the train, the compartments only population having been a very quite Harry and a heavy contingent of Order members, all of whom didn't really know what to say (Ron, Hermione and the others had been delivered home via other means for safety), Vernon was most put out that he should have to come out to get him yet again and just got redder after the Order members had threatened him.
As soon as he returned he had been locked in his room, Vernon had shouted at him about the threats he received from the Order and had then decided that he needed to be taught a lesson, ie: being locked in his room and not being fed.
But that was not all, Vernon decide that physical punishment would also be a good idea, though Dudley loved it just for the fun of it, he had been tortured more in that one evening than he had in the rest of his life, the Cruciatus Curse did not seem so bad anymore, he had been punched, kicked, burned against a gas lamp, he was just fortunate neither of them though about knives or cricket bats.
It was that evening that he started feeling groggy, or rather more groggy than he had felt after Vernon and 'Dudders' had finished with him. He had been about to write a letter to Dumbledore about what happened when he had come over very dizzy, he crashed to the floor sending his quills and parchment flying, luckily he missed the still very hot lamp that lay broken on the floor.
He managed to reach the bed before collapsing, he had attempted to look up Wizarding illnesses in his books but he could not concentrate and he kept dropping the books as the pain increased, it reached unbearable levels causing him to pass out. He stayed like that for how long, he new not, the pain made him loose all sense of time, he just laid there fading in and out of consciousness.
The last thing he remembered was hearing a beautiful voice reassuring him, he did not know who it was, but he was certain that it was familiar; he also remembered a vague image of a woman under a cloak, her face was beautiful beyond compare, truly angelic.
Looking up he saw, not the familiar drab sealing of Dudley's second room, but an exotic set of red bed curtains.
Turning to his left he saw that he was in a room. It was large, brightly decorated in reds and gold's, there was a window through which sunlight was pouring, bathing the other half of the room in light.
The bright light was quiet painful to his eyes, he attempted to bring his right arm up to cover them, only to discover that it was pinned down by some unknown weight, he wondered why on earth the burns to his right arm and hand were not screaming at him as they had been or why he was not aching from all the bruises that he should have from the beating.
He slowly turned to his right and almost jumped out of bed at the sight that greeted him.
Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion was curled up next to him, dressed in a set of creased, silver robes, using his arm as a pillow, which was probably (other than his very weak state) the only thing that prevented him from leaping backwards.
She stirred at the slight movement and slowly opened her deep, blue eyes.
She looked at him then sat up in astonishment, before engulfing him in a hug which he weakly returned.
"It iz not pozzible, you should not be conscious for another zeventy two ours at ze least." she exclaimed into his neck.
"It is nice to see you too Fleur." He responded sarcastically though very weakly and even more shocked that she was hugging him.
She sat up, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears.
"I'm zorry Arry, it iz juzt, that given vhat you looked like ven we brought you in ve didn't think vat you would even be conzcious for another vour days, let alone be avake and speaking."
"Where am I?"
"The Zouth of France, The Chateau Delacour, my ome." She explained, wiping the hints of tears from her eyes.
"How did I get here?" he asked.
"Ve brought you back ere after Dumbledore refuzed to let us come to ze if you vere alright. It vas lucky ve did, if ve had vated for Dumbledore you vould be dead."
Harry's face looked blank for several seconds before he responded.
"Well, I guess I owe you my thanks then."
"You owe me nothing Arry, I vill explain everything later, I must tell my parents vat you ave come around."
With that she pecked him on the cheek before quickly walked out the door with a slight spring in her step. Leaving a slightly dazzled Harry touching the place on his face where she had just kissed.
Unfortunately his weakened state rushed him back to sleep before he could think much about his current situation.
Dimension: 563 - Earth
Date: 27th July 2001 AD
Country: France - The French Riviera - Marseeleveyre Mountains
Location: Chateau Delacour
Time: Morning
Harry Potter very slowly opened his eyes; the slight temperature he retained brought back the memories of his return to Pivet Drive.
Dumbledore had decided that he would be returning to the Dursley's again, to give him a chance to mourn before school started up again, it was stupid really, no one can get over a persons death in just six weeks, at least not without counselling or people to talk or mourn with.
When he had returned via the train, the compartments only population having been a very quite Harry and a heavy contingent of Order members, all of whom didn't really know what to say (Ron, Hermione and the others had been delivered home via other means for safety), Vernon was most put out that he should have to come out to get him yet again and just got redder after the Order members had threatened him.
As soon as he returned he had been locked in his room, Vernon had shouted at him about the threats he received from the Order and had then decided that he needed to be taught a lesson, ie: being locked in his room and not being fed.
But that was not all, Vernon decide that physical punishment would also be a good idea, though Dudley loved it just for the fun of it, he had been tortured more in that one evening than he had in the rest of his life, the Cruciatus Curse did not seem so bad anymore, he had been punched, kicked, burned against a gas lamp, he was just fortunate neither of them though about knives or cricket bats.
It was that evening that he started feeling groggy, or rather more groggy than he had felt after Vernon and 'Dudders' had finished with him. He had been about to write a letter to Dumbledore about what happened when he had come over very dizzy, he crashed to the floor sending his quills and parchment flying, luckily he missed the still very hot lamp that lay broken on the floor.
He managed to reach the bed before collapsing, he had attempted to look up Wizarding illnesses in his books but he could not concentrate and he kept dropping the books as the pain increased, it reached unbearable levels causing him to pass out. He stayed like that for how long, he new not, the pain made him loose all sense of time, he just laid there fading in and out of consciousness.
The last thing he remembered was hearing a beautiful voice reassuring him, he did not know who it was, but he was certain that it was familiar; he also remembered a vague image of a woman under a cloak, her face was beautiful beyond compare, truly angelic.
Looking up he saw, not the familiar drab sealing of Dudley's second room, but an exotic set of red bed curtains.
Turning to his left he saw that he was in a room. It was large, brightly decorated in reds and gold's, there was a window through which sunlight was pouring, bathing the other half of the room in light.
The bright light was quiet painful to his eyes, he attempted to bring his right arm up to cover them, only to discover that it was pinned down by some unknown weight, he wondered why on earth the burns to his right arm and hand were not screaming at him as they had been or why he was not aching from all the bruises that he should have from the beating.
He slowly turned to his right and almost jumped out of bed at the sight that greeted him.
Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion was curled up next to him, dressed in a set of creased, silver robes, using his arm as a pillow, which was probably (other than his very weak state) the only thing that prevented him from leaping backwards.
She stirred at the slight movement and slowly opened her deep, blue eyes.
She looked at him then sat up in astonishment, before engulfing him in a hug which he weakly returned.
"It iz not pozzible, you should not be conscious for another zeventy two ours at ze least." she exclaimed into his neck.
"It is nice to see you too Fleur." He responded sarcastically though very weakly and even more shocked that she was hugging him.
She sat up, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears.
"I'm zorry Arry, it iz juzt, that given vhat you looked like ven we brought you in ve didn't think vat you would even be conzcious for another vour days, let alone be avake and speaking."
"Where am I?"
"The Zouth of France, The Chateau Delacour, my ome." She explained, wiping the hints of tears from her eyes.
"How did I get here?" he asked.
"Ve brought you back ere after Dumbledore refuzed to let us come to ze if you vere alright. It vas lucky ve did, if ve had vated for Dumbledore you vould be dead."
Harry's face looked blank for several seconds before he responded.
"Well, I guess I owe you my thanks then."
"You owe me nothing Arry, I vill explain everything later, I must tell my parents vat you ave come around."
With that she pecked him on the cheek before quickly walked out the door with a slight spring in her step. Leaving a slightly dazzled Harry touching the place on his face where she had just kissed.
Unfortunately his weakened state rushed him back to sleep before he could think much about his current situation.
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