Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

A small flock of white birds, adorned with green and red bands across their wings flitted into the rafters of the room, chirping excitedly. 'Excellent,' the wand-maker, enthused.

Ollivander looked around until his eyes came to rest on the fourth champion, but none of the surprise or distaste she might have expected appeared.

'And Mr Potter.' At the boy's name the man smiled more widely than Fleur had yet seen.

Hogwarts additional, unofficial extra stepped up, his wand sliding smoothly from his sleeve before he passed it into the long-fingered hands of Ollivander. Fleur did not miss the look of consternation that flitted over the face of Albus Dumbledore when the fourteen year old presented his wand.

'A wand reborn,' Ollivander whispered, spinning it in his fingers. 'Ebony, eleven inches and a third, in such condition it appears it was only made yesterday.' A ghost of a smile passed across the faces of both the boy and Ollivander.

'Perhaps my finest work,' the wand-maker admitted, 'and certainly the most complex. The shards of the phoenix feather core of your first partner, consumed by basilisk venom. A liquid heart.'

The boy has had two wands?

It explained the frown on the face of Hogwarts' headmaster. Having had two wands was not uncommon for an auror, or wizard with a hazard occupation, but for a fourteen year old to have had his wand damaged beyond repair was virtually unheard of and that was without including the fact his second wand was like no other Fleur had ever heard of.

A liquid core. Basilisk venom. The toxin should have melted the wood.

'A bond that has survived destruction and risen again, stronger than almost any I have seen over the last fifty years.'

The wand-maker did not test the wand immediately, but continued to turn it over, stroking its length as lovingly as one might caress the cheek of their child.

'What has this wand seen?' the man murmured very softly, spinning it deftly between his fingers and closing his eyes. 'Oh my,' the wand-maker whispered after a moment.

Ollivander slashed the wand through air across his chest in the direction of Harry.

A twisting, writhing, silver serpent the length of Fleur's arm coalesced in the air between the two of them, coiling about the shoulders of the boy before fading away into nothing.

'Perfect,' the man breathed.

Fleur tossed her silver hair. There was nothing astounding about the test. A snake was one of the easiest things to summon.

At least it did not make any further mess.

The boy's headmaster was staring very intently at the back of the boy's head. His eyes, normally calm and wise, held a hint of concern about them as he gazed at his student. Fleur fancied there was a touch of pride there too. For a fourteen year old she had to concede he was different. His inexplicable ability to not notice her had been proof enough of that and his unusual wand was simply confirmation there was something else to him.

Fleur briefly considered speaking with him as they all followed Dumbledore back towards the Great Hall.

In the end she did not. Madam Maxime would not approve of her fraternising with the competition, and it would be most unwise to associate with him while Rita Skeeter was lurking. His vexation of the reporter combined with her veela heritage would create an article far more potent than anything she might have previously concocted.

He probably would not even notice me trying anyway.

The boy had left the group early on regardless, branching off up the first floor corridor. Fleur had little doubt that if she followed him he would shortly vanish.

'Come with me Fleur,' her headmistress instructed, leading her down towards the carriage. 'I trust you were paying attention to the ceremony, there was much to be learned about your rivals from it.'

'I was,' Fleur assured her.

'What did you deduce?'

'Cedric Diggory is a steadfast, hard-working and honest, but while he is gifted he does not seem an exceptionally powerful wizard. Viktor Krum is powerful, stubborn and unyielding. He will be my fiercest competition.'

'And Harry Potter?'

'He is unusual,' she replied 'Ollivander seemed to favour him.'

hesitantly.

'Perceptive as always,' Madam Maxime complimented. 'I believe you are right about Hogwarts' original champion. Krum, though, has hidden depths and, judging by the spell Ollivander performed, excels in the air.'

'He is a quidditch seeker for his country,' Fleur told her headmistress, surprised she did not know already. Madame Maxime nodded.

'Be wary of the boy,' she warned. 'I have never seen a liquid core wand, nor do I know what it implies about his magic, but ebony denotes power and having a basilisk venom core speaks for itself.'

'I will not ignore him,' Fleur reassured her headmistress.

He does enough of that for both of us, she thought bitterly.

'He is unlikely to prove a rival being fourteen,' Madam Maxime explained, 'but he may have one or two surprises that could harm your standing against the others.' She drew Fleur to one side of the path.

'The other champions will soon, if they haven't already, be told about the first task. This is to be expected.'

'Will I?' Fleur asked hesitantly. 'Of course,' Madame Maxime exclaimed. 'I am… stretching, the boundaries a little, but we are going to go get a glimpse of it now. Follow me, Fleur.'

Her headmistress bypassed the carriage and walked into the edge of the woods that bordered the school. Fleur pulled a face and picked her way carefully through the mud after her. She was not wearing particularly sturdy shoes and it was hard going.

Madame Maxime kept going, clearly aware of where she was heading, and the trees grew thicker around them. The forest was a dark place. It was named the Forbidden Forest to keep out students of all ages and a host of rumours surrounded it. She had been here long enough to hear a few of them, mostly in relation to where the tournament might take place. Acromantula, werewolves, centaurs, giants and worse were supposed to have the place their home. Walking among the dark pines she couldn't help but agree with those that thought the place a fitting home.

Is the task taking place out here? Fleur wondered. She couldn't say the idea filled her with enthusiasm. It was dark, cold and damp. Fleur liked none of those things.

A light, a wavering, reddish-orange glow appeared up ahead and Madame Maxime drew her to one side again. 'As it is a little unusual for me to take you here you should cast a disillusionment charm. I know you are adept at the spell.'

Fleur cast it quickly, choosing not to wonder how exactly her headmistress knew about her ability. It was a useful charm that only grew more so when nobody was aware that you could perform it, so Fleur had kept her use of it a secret from all but Gabrielle.

'Good,' her headmistress declared, 'you've improved. Follow me.'

The glow grew brighter and waves of hot air began to billow pleasantly past Fleur, catching her hair, as they grew near to some kind of clearing.

The hot wind swiftly grew oppressive and sweltering until even Fleur, whose veela heritage granted her some resilience to heat, was sweating horribly by the time they passed through the tree line. Four, massive cages dominated the newly made gap in the trees.

White-hot flames billowed from them, too bright to see any detail past. The silhouettes were enough for Fleur to recognise what was trapped within them.

Dragons.

Madame Maxime had disappeared sometime between reaching the glade and Fleur first seeing the cages, but she could remember the rough direction back to the carriage so she wasn't unduly concerned.

The dragons were far more worrying.

Veela were resistant to heat, being naturally able to conjure fire themselves, but fire hot enough to melt steel was not the so easily resisted. If Fleur was caught in the inferno she would be ashes in seconds, veela or not, and that was not how she planned to end her tournament.

Edging a little closer, but extremely aware that dragons were capable of exhaling flames for several metres, she tried to get a better view of them.

Even this close the heat from their flames was all but unbearable. Sweat was running from her forehead and down her back in rivulets, it was unpleasant and her uniform starting to stick to her.

Dragons were not something Fleur had studied in great detail. She liked charms, enchanting and duelling, not running away from magically resistant creatures that expelled gouts of fire.

They were, however, still susceptible to her sleeping enchantment.

The nearest, a red-scaled, snub-snouted thing that thrashed angrily and spewed fire everywhere it could see, had very protuberant eyes. They were a gleaming, viridian green and filled with a wrathful intelligence that made Fleur shiver instinctively. Dragons had no natural predators, and nothing to fear. They were tameable, but only just, hovering between the two uppermost classes of dangerous creatures. It seemed the tournament was going to carry on where it had left off with the cockatrice.

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