Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Order of the Templar

Violent Mourning

by hayeth 8 reviews

Things have settled down for Jericho. Now its time to do something very important...grieve for he fallen.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Fleur,Harry - Warnings: [!] [?] - Published: 2007-09-27 - Updated: 2007-09-27 - 3730 words

It has been two months since my last entry and most of that time has been spent traveling and information gathering. The “war” here in Britain is more like a fight between a man and a child. These people have no idea how hopeless there situation is. In two months I have found corruption, spies, and traitors in all levels of the wizard government. I have come to learn that all it takes is a little cash and a few threatening words to let the innocent suffer and the guilty go free…despicable really.

However, all is not lost. A Headmaster of the School known as Hogwarts has been doing his best to fight the dark wizards. His name is Albus Dumbledore and he is the founder of a “secret” organization know as the Order of the Phoenix. Now the reason I put secret in quotations is because it’s not that hard to get some basic information on it such as its name, some members, and who leads it. All it took was a captured Death Eater and a few minutes in the introduction of Templar interrogation.

A few of the more pronounced members are (Albus aside) Minerva McGonagall, Alastor Moody, Frank and Alice Longbottom, James and Lily Potter, and Sirius Black. Obviously that isn’t all of them, but they are the well known members…as in the biggest troublemakers for Voldemort and his followers. Now I must point out that there are faults with this band of…warriors for lack of better term. The most prominent is they don’t try to kill their enemies, these people follow the belief that rehabilitation can make these “lost souls” fit to join the rest of society…personally if a person aides in the extermination of an entire group of people then there is no such thing as a lost soul or a misguided youth. It’s just someone wanting to kill people they don’t like…but like I said that’s my personal opinion. Another mistake is they hand their captured dark wizards over to their corrupt government…so in the end all they achieve is the possible delay of one of Voldemort’s plans.

I don’t understand why they do this; then again I come from a group of warriors trained from birth. Mercy is not something we are taught to show to our enemies. If only these wizards of the light could be taught to do the same…

But I’ve said enough for now. All I can do is continue to…abruptly end some dark wizard careers.

Life Templar

(Chapter 16 Start)

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? I’m Jericho, Grand Templar of Myren.”

“Interesting…but is that really who you are?”


“You hesitated. Starting to doubt yourself?”

“No! I said who I am, now who are you?”

“You’ll learn soon enough.”


Jericho shot up out of bed drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for air. He looked around the room he was in to see his friends lying perfectly still in their beds.

“I know you’re awake. You don’t need to fake it.”

Slowly Marcell and Amadues sat up.

“You were moaning in your sleep.” Marcell stated quietly.

“Nightmare?” Amadues inquired.

“Yeah…No…I’m not really sure what it was. It’s a little blurry now, but it’s got me on edge.”

“Strange…but whatever it is it’s over now. Best to get some sleep,” Marcell suggested.

“Perhaps you’re right…but what if it happens again?”

“Then we will look further into it. For now let’s just assume it was a dream and get back to sleep. We still have to get up and go into the muggle world tomorrow,” Amadues said as he rolled over to go back to sleep.

Laying down Jericho stared at the ceiling, “Yeah…it was probably just a dream.”

Ten minutes passed and Jericho had yet to fall back asleep. The dream plagued his mind somewhat and in his musings his attention turned to other things like Myren, Raimond, and all the other dark parts of his recent past that he had yet to deal with. Sitting up he made his way out of bed. Throwing on his pants and upper robe, Jericho grabbed his swords and walked out of the room.

As the door quietly closed a voice spoke up, “Should we go after him?”

Amadues was silent for a moment before replying, “No, he won’t do anything foolish.”


Fleur lay awake in her bed. She hadn’t been having an easy time sleeping since Bill had died and had finally resigned herself to staying awake. The only reason she was even in bed was because Rachel slept with her, that and Molly persistently telling her to get rest. As she laid there she heard the door to the men’s side open and close and the soft sound of footsteps going downstairs.

Knowing she wasn’t falling asleep anytime soon, Fleur extracted herself from Rachel’s arms and went to the door. Opening it slightly she saw the dark form of Jericho making his way to the exit.

“Where’s he going?” She asked herself.

Putting on some shoes and grabbing a coat she left the room and followed him. Her journey led her throughout the castle and finally outside. Not wanting to be noticed she stayed at the castle gates until she was sure Jericho was far enough to not spot her. When she ventured away from the castle she narrowed her eyes in hopes of spotting the young Templar.

As she looked around she didn’t see any sign of him. It was just too dark; the clouds overhead prevented any light from the moon from shining down. A strong wind blew and Fleur tried to bring her coat closer to her body for warmth.

Suddenly to her left a light appeared…no two lights! She looked in the direction of the sources of light and saw Jericho down by the lake swinging his blades wildly. She couldn’t make out any shapes since the light wasn’t bright enough, but she assumed there was something going on.

‘Is he in trouble!?’ She thought. She quickly ran towards him hoping to aid him in anyway.

As she got closer she realized she didn’t have her wand and cursed. However, unlike most witches, she wasn’t helpless without her wand, her veela blood made sure of that. But as she got closer she was able to make out Jericho’s figure and from what she could tell…he wasn’t fighting anyone.

Her running slowed to a jog and then to a walk. As she neared the Templar she found herself captivated by his movements. His swings were wild, nothing like what she had seen in the past. It was as if he were fighting a monster that he couldn’t see. Anger, pain, and frustration were evident in the way he stood; in the way he moved.

Ever so slowly she edged closer and as she did she realized what Jericho was doing out here in the middle of the night. He was mourning. When news of Myren’s fall became public knowledge many of the wizards and witches were amazed with how well Jericho took it. He seemed to accept it and move on and Fleur remembered how envious she had felt back then. But as she watched him now she was forced to realize an important fact that many people seemed to forget one important fact when it came to the Templar…

…They were still human.

They felt pain and suffering like anyone else, but they were also professionals they knew there was a time for grieving and a time for action. And looking back on the past few days the time for grieving was limited…and that was doubly so for Jericho. He was not only the main spokesperson for the Templar, but he was also the go-to-guy. His friends didn’t seek him out just because they were friends. They sought him out because they believed he would know what to do.

All these thoughts ran through her mind as she got closer. She wasn’t aware of how close she was until one of Jericho’s swords was coming at her face…



Jericho slashed at the air in front of him with the sword in his right hand.


A swipe and stab met the air beside him courtesy of the sword in his left hand.


Doing a cross slash with both swords to the air in front of him, Jericho paused and glared at nothing. The words that ran through his head couldn’t be linked to him and yet he felt they described him best.

I wasn’t vocal enough on my feelings of Ferres, I failed to protect Myren, and I’m a disgrace for not going back the minute I learned of its fate!

These were the thoughts running through his head as he worked out his aggression. As his mind kept turning the thoughts in his head one word popped up to stand above the rest. A word he considered so evil that it should have been a sin.


“No,” Jericho said as he slashed at the air.


“No,” He repeated more desperately as he swung away.


“No, no, no!” Jericho started chanting, matching each “no” with a slash.


On and on the word repeated itself, surrounding Jericho, blanketing him in its filthy covers. His arms fell to his side.

“No, no, no, no…” He whispered pathetically. “NOOOOOOO!”

He attacked the air with more ferocity than ever before. His swings were wild, like an animal desperately trying to defend itself. The word was is enemy and with each repeat it became much stronger.


Behind! The word came from behind. Pivoting on his feet, he raised his right sword for a high slash and swung. His head turned to see his target before he hit, an instinct built from years of close combat experience. As the aura from the blade illuminated the area in his line of sight he saw the figure of a young woman right behind him.

‘Stop!’ He thought desperately as he tried to slow the momentum of his slash. Closer and closer it got fuelled by his anger, but its speed was rapidly decreasing until it finally stopped…an inch from the woman’s face.


Fleur didn’t dare move. A weapon notorious for cutting through muscle, bone, and everything in-between like a hot knife through butter was an inch from her face. At its close proximity, she could feel the magic surrounding the blade. It felt warm and inviting but there was an undercurrent of malice and bloodlust. Like a rabid dog, groomed for a championship show. Fleur couldn’t help but wonder if the feelings being emanated from the blade were in-fact Jericho’s feelings.

The blade quickly lowered from her face as Jericho recognized who she was. The aura on the swords dimmed to a soft glow and the light coming from his one visible eye vanished.

“What are you doing here?” Jericho questioned darkly. His feelings and thoughts had yet to dissipitate.

Fleur quickly recovered from her shock and glared at the Templar, “Excuse me? Is that what you say after nearly cutting someone’s head off!?”

“You shouldn’t have been so close. In fact you shouldn’t be out here.”

“I’m sorry but every time I see those blades of yours light up like Christmas lights you’re usually fighting. So please forgive me for coming to help.” Fleur replied with sarcasm. Her throat ached from not having spoken so loudly in days.

“I don’t need your help.” Jericho replied coldly.

“Yes, how foolish of me! The great Jericho of Meeren or Ma-ren or whatever the hell it’s called, doesn’t need anyone’s help! He can save the God-damn world on his own can’t he!?”

“Oh please do tell what help can a little girl like you who can’t even get over her dead lover, provide?” He shot back. A part of Jericho felt bad for saying what he did, but another part felt good for just yelling at someone.

Fleur was left speechless by his words. Her hands trembled and with a hard punch to his face, she yelled, “BASTARD!”

Jericho fell to the ground, his swords fell a half-foot away on either side. Normally he would have been able to remain standing, but the suddenness of it had knocked him off balance. Rubbing his cheek he glared at her. The punch hadn’t hurt but the throbbing from his yet-to-heal scar sure did.

“You think I’ve been useless this whole time! I’m the one who has been supporting Rachel this whole time! Do you even remember who she is? I’ll tell you! That little girl you saved! The one who looks up to you, idolizes you, and loves you! And all you’ve done is ignore her. Hell she’d be all alone if it weren’t for me! And FYI I’m a damn good fighter!” As Fleur ranted her fists started to smoke and shoot sparks.

It was Jericho’s turn to remain silent. Fleur just continued to glare at him. Not able to hold eye-contact for long he turned his head.

“You’re right,” he muttered.

“What was that?” She questioned angrily.

Looking at her he repeated louder, “You’re right. I was wrong to say what I did. But you’re wrong too!”

Fleur just looked at him in confusion.

“I can’t take care of everything myself and I don’t believe I can save the world by myself.” He explained as he got up off the ground. Picking up his fallen blades, he sheathed them before turning and walking off.

“Where are you going?” Fleur asked, her anger long forgotten.

“Someplace alone so I can think…someplace where no one will follow.” He said as he pointed at the Forbidden Forest. As he got further away Fleur called out.


Turning to glance at her, Jericho waited for what she had to say.

“Can I come too? I haven’t slept well in sometime and I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep at all tonight.”

The two stood in silence as he thought her offer over. Turning to continue his walk to the Forbidden Forest he said, “Do as you wish. You don’t need me telling you what to do.”

Fleur let a small smile grace her lips as she quietly followed after him.


The two spent quite a while venturing deep into the Forbidden Forest before Jericho found a small clearing. After removing some of the larger sticks and stones from it he built a fire. When he was finished he sat down. Fleur moved towards him and sat beside him.

They sat in-front of the fire for some time before Fleur broke the silence, “It’s kind of funny. Not twenty minutes ago we were at each others throats and here we are now sitting civilly in front of a fire.”

“Actually I just wanted to lure you here so I could kill you and burn the evidence.” Jericho joked with grin.

Fleur returned the smile with one of her own, “Well damn, I was hoping to get your trust before I dealt with you.”

The two laughed lightly before returning their gazes to the fire.

“Hey,” Fleur spoke up again. “How do you do it? You know, show a strong face when you’re told someone you love died.”

Jericho was silent for a moment. Thinking of an answer to her question, “…I preoccupy myself with things I know needs done,” he answered. “Doesn’t do me much good though. I just wined up bottling it up until I can’t take it anymore. Then when it does come out the feeling is ten times worse because I was forced to dwell on it and not deal with it.”

“I see…must be rough being the go-to-guy. Helping others with there problems and all.”


The two fell into silence once again. As time passed the fire started to die. Getting up to gather more wood, Jericho spoke up.

“What kind of guy was Bill?”

Fleur looked at him with surprise. She hadn’t expected that question, “Why do you ask?”

“Well when I came here it was to think about and mourn the people I lost. Since you’re here you might as well do the same. Besides, they say sharing your feelings with someone who is empathetic is the best therapy in this situation.”

“So we’re going to be each others counselors?” Fleur questioned with a sad smile.

Returning her smile with one of his own, he said, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well…he was pretty brave and courageous, but he was also rebellious. You’ve met his mother, Molly so you know what I mean by that.”

Jericho nodded his understanding as he placed some wood into the fire.

“…He worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts and we first met at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament two years ago. We sent a few letters back and forth from France to wherever he was at the time, met up a few times, and finally he asked me out. We went out for a few months before he asked me to move to England…we had just started discussing getting engaged a few weeks ago.” As Fleur mentioned their engagement plans she started to cry.

Jericho looked at her sadly. He didn’t know what to do, despite all his years as a Templar he had rarely if ever dealt with a crying female. He started to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders when Fleur decided to cling to his chest, all the while crying. Wrapping his arms around her awkwardly, he gently rubbed her back like he had Rachel when she had cried into his chest.

A few minutes passed as they sat near the fire holding each other. Jericho continued to act as a pillar of strength for the distraught young woman until her sobs lessened as she pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” she gently whispered.

Jericho gave her a reassuring smile, “Don’t be you needed to grieve and that’s what you did. I’m sure at least a part of you feels better.”

Wiping her eyes, she nodded, “Yes, but it seems all I do is cry.”

“It’s a way to show your pain for your loss. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You know I’ve never seen you cry…and your pain must be worse than mine.”

Smiling wider, Jericho responded, “No one has seen me cry except Raimond. I do my crying when I’m alone.” His smile dropped as he continued, “For me, releasing my pain is easy…it’s everything else I can’t seem to let go.”

“So you’ve cried already? For the ones you’ve lost?”

Silently he nodded.

“So tell me about him.” Fleur said.

“Hmm?” Jericho questioned.

“Raimond, you had the pleasure of knowing the person I’ve lost, but I haven’t met the one you’ve lost. So what was he like?”

“Hmmm…Well he was a senile old bastard that loved his jokes,” Jericho started lightheartedly. “But, he was much more than that. He was everything I aspired to be. Wise, powerful, and not afraid to slow down and enjoy things. He never believed that things were black and white but colored.”

“Isn’t the saying “Nothings black and white, but shades of gray”?” Fleur interrupted.

“Not to Raimond. Shades of gray meant the options you choose to take leant one way or the other, but colors mean they could go any which way or no way at all. He used to say “Life is random and therefore colorful. There isn’t a yes, no, or maybe answer to life. It’s more of a yes, no, maybe, who cares, neither, and so on and so forth.” That was his philosophy.”

“Sounds like someone that expects the unexpected.”

“You could say that. Really that’s all there is to say about him. He was a man that did what he pleased, how he pleased.”

“I kind of wish I had the chance to meet him.” Fleur said before falling silent. Jericho didn’t respond. The two continued to sit in silence, only getting up to put more wood in the fire every now and then.

As Jericho sat gazing at the fire Fleur slumped against his shoulder.

“Fleur?” he questioned.

“Sorry…” She murmured though not moving to get up. “…I’m just really tired.”

As she finished her sentence her breathing evened out and she fell into a deep sleep. Jericho made no move, not wanting to disturb her rest. She had looked like the walking dead for the past few days and any peaceful sleep she could get was needed.

He continued to sit in silence with the part-veela resting on his shoulder when a loud crack in the forest drew his attention. It wasn’t the sound of a wizard teleporting, but of a stick snapping.

Turning his gaze to his surroundings he spotted several sets of eyes glaring at him. Cursing himself for not noticing sooner he motioned to grab his sword with his free arm. As his arm moved a voice from behind stopped him.

“Do and die, human.”

Turning his gaze to the area behind him, Jericho locked eyes with a centaur holding a spear…pointed at his face.

(End of Chapter 16)

Well this chapter started out the way I expected it too but started going a different route about halfway into it. Oh well here is chapter 16. Chapter 17 will be delayed because I’m not satisfied with it. I’m going to put some effort into fixing it, but I am also working on the starter chapters to my new fic. Which has yet to be posted obviously. Anyway I hope you enjoyed about 3k words dedicated to Harry/Fleur bonding. So anyway review please.
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