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The haunting melody pulled Harry from his bed. He walked without thought across the room from his bed to the window. A hand lifted and pushed the glass frame open. The cold night air pushed its way into the Gryffindor tower room. His pale white skin nearly glowed in the moonlight. The soft singing clinging to the night wind continued to enchant.
To call it a melody would be a disservice. The song bypassed his ears, penetrated his mind and caressed his soul. It beckoned to him softly. It begged him to remember something long forgotten. Something from another, simpler life. Something that was and would soon come again.
“Oi, Potter! Shut the window! It’s freezing.” The surly ginger grunted out. It was much too early in the morning for shenanigans.
Harry’s emerald green eyes blinked hard as the song was pushed out of his mind. Suddenly all Harry could think about was how cold he was in front of the open window as he shut it immediately and ran back to the warmth of his bed. As he snuggled into his blankets, he tried to remember why he was in front of the window to begin with. All he could remember was the intense yet calming joy he felt.
The next morning, Harry made his way to the great hall. A group of Bulgarian students from the Durmstrang Institute rushed in front of him, making Harry wonder where the fire was. It just happened that while the fire was out, the Great Hall was unexpectedly turned into a burn ward.
Dozens of students from all four houses plus the two visiting schools were in various states of psychological distress. Some students were rocking back and forth. Others were quite visibly jumpy. Others were slumped over the tables from what appeared to be exhaustion. Teachers were frantically walking around the tables checking on students while Madame Pompfrey was attempting to analyze the cause of the distress.
“Hermione, what’s going on here?”, Harry sat down at his usual place. Hermione looked like she hadn’t slept in days despite being her usual energetic self the day before.
Hermione barely looked at Harry and in truth she had barely heard his question. She answered as if he had asked her what had happened to her. “It’s the strangest thing, Harry. I went to bed and for some reason I woke up feeling as if I had run across Scotland, and the dreams I had… it felt so real. I saw myself in the fog at daybreak I felt lost, like I was searching for something but I couldn’t find it. What was I looking for?”
Hermione’s head slumped down into her folded arms on the Gryffindor table. Harry looked around to see if anyone was coherent enough to answer his questions. Harry wandered about the Great Hall without much luck and was even shooed away by Madame Pomfrey. It was then he noticed a young blonde in Ravenclaw colors walking into the hall with a tray of various wooden tankards. She began handing out the mugs to each of the students in her area. Harry ran up to her hoping she could help.
“Excuse me, do you think you could help me?”
The blonde turned around with a kind and dreamy smile on her face, “Oh, hello Harry.”
Harry looked confused, “Have we met?”
“Not officially. Everyone knows who you are, though. I’m Luna Lovegood.”
“Do you know what’s going on? What happened to everyone?”
“Come with me, Harry. I’ll explain as we go back to the kitchens.”
Harry followed the young teen out of the hall and towards the kitchens. Unbeknownst to the two of them, a pair of sapphire blue eyes were following them with great interest.
“So your father runs the Quibbler?”
“Yes. He’s always doing research on various magical creatures. When he heard about the Durmstrang Institute coming to Hogwarts this year he wanted me to be prepared in case some of the more mischievous creatures that surround the area decided to tag along.”
“What kinds of creatures?”
“Hard to say for sure. Durmstrang takes students from all over Eastern Europe. The symptoms are similar to tales I’ve heard regarding a type of faerie called Three-toed Iele.”
The duo walked through the portrait door and into the kitchens.
“So why wasn’t everyone affected by these faeries?”
“The ill effects are like an allergy. It doesn’t affect everyone the same. I’m not sure why you weren’t affected, Harry, but I’ve been using special ear drops every night this year. I haven’t been tested for faerie allergies but my father felt it would be better to be safe than sorry.”
Harry was listening intently but was also distracted by an eerie quietness. There was no activity in the kitchens and very little light. Almost anywhere else at Hogwarts, there was at least some kind of background noise. Not here, however. Not a single sound.
“Luna, is it always supposed to be this quiet?”
The blond witch looked around inquisitively. “Usually this place is full of house elves. I suppose I was too focused earlier to notice. I suspect nargles might have chased them away.”
Luna placed the tray on the counter and began collecting mugs and tankards from around the kitchen. Harry was still puzzled by the silence.
“Dobby?” Harry asked out loud and in a moment the diminutive elf appeared from behind a table. Harry almost didn’t notice him at first as he was cowering in the shadows behind a table leg. Luna was busy collecting cream, brown sugar, garlic and a few other ingredients.
“The Great Harry Potter calls Dobby?”, the elf squeaked softly as he looked around cautiously.
“Dobby? What’s going on? Why are you hiding?”
“Did Harry Potter not hear the song last night?”
“Song? What song?”
“It is old faerie magic. Harry Potter must be careful. The song comes before the taking of magic users. Elves, wizards and all manner of creatures go missing. Is Harry Potter sure he did not hear the song?”
Harry thought carefully about the previous night. All he could remember was being cold and instinctively, he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Dobby noticed this too.
“Harry Potter did not remember because…” Dobby’s eyes went wide and paused for a moment. “Dobby must protect Harry Potter!” The little elf got a serious look on his face and then vanished.
“Dobby? Dobby!?” Harry called out but there was no response.
“Harry, I’m going to need more mugs. I’m making a larger batch of the medicine. Please help me look.” Luna called to Harry. Harry grimaced, turned away from where his friend had been standing and then began to look for the requested mugs.
Harry and Luna were coming back into the Hall, each holding a full tray of cups, at the same time as Dumbledore was finishing up his morning announcements.
“And so, until we have gotten to the bottom of this… encounter… we will be postponing the selection process for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire will remain in my office until we get this sorted out.”
Dumbledore spotted Harry Potter handing out mugs to his friends at the Gryffindor table and gingerly made his was over to the boy.
“What are you handing out, Mr Potter?”
“Oh, sir, Luna believes this concoction will remedy the effects of whatever it was that occurred last night.”
“Perhaps you should let Madame Pomfrey hand out any necessary…”
Dumbledore smelled the homemade brew and made an immediate connection.
“Who did you say made this, Mr Potter?”
“Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw. She told me she’s dealt with something similar to this during her father’s travels. Dobby told me that it had something to do with faerie magic.”
“25 points to Ravenclaw and 5 points to Gryffindor for assisting her. Might I trouble you for one of those cups?”
Harry handed Professor Dumbledore one of the last two mugs. Dumbledore took a long swig and remembered similar recipes from his younger days. It was along the lines of a helpful cure all from exposure to some of the more disruptive faerie magics.
Dumbledore made his way over to Madame Pomfrey and explained the situation as well as Ms Lovegood’s analysis. Luna, Madame Pomfrey as well as a few of the lesser effected students promptly left the Great Hall, presumably to make more of the impromptu potion.
Harry settled back at his seat next to Hermione and began to nurse her back to health.
By the afternoon, most of the students and staff were back on their feet and classes were proceeding as scheduled. It wasn’t long, however, before Harry, Hermione and Ron were called up to Dumbledore’s office.
“Oi, did you guys hear? The Beauxbaton favorite isn’t going to compete in the competition.”
“What? Where did you hear that?”
“Apparently the half-giant headmistress had a public argument with her earlier today. It’s been going around school like crazy. Something about her already having her prize and not needing to compete.”
The three entered Professor Dumbledore’s office and were met by Professors McGonagall, and Moody as well as Dobby. Professor Dumbledore was behind his desk looking pensive.
“Harry, Hermione, Ronald… please have a seat. We need to have a talk.” Dumbledore was stroking his beard.
Hermione was the first to speak. “What’s going on, Professor?”
“We have a working theory of what happened last night. We believe the faerie magic that attacked our school last night was targeting young Mr Potter.”
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry before looking back at the assembled Professors.
“Me, sir?” Harry managed to squeak out.
“Excuse me, Professor. Does this have anything to do with…” Hermione looked at Harry while trying to find the most delicate phrasing, “You-know-who?” Hermione cringed after saying it. It sounded ridiculous. Of course everyone knew who she was talking about. Why did she need to obfuscate it in such an obvious way?
Harry Potter had lost his parents at the age of five when his parents’ home was invaded by a notorious serial killer of the magical world. His parents had sacrificed themselves to keep the killer from taking the life of their child. When the no-nosed murderer attempted to use the killing curse upon young Harry, the pale green blast rebounded back upon his would-be killer and left him stone dead. Harry Potter was the last thing alive in that house that night.
To that day no one had ever survived the killing curse. Harry Potter was henceforth known to the media and the magical world as “The boy who lived.”
Unfortunately for Harry, he was not to be the boy who lived well. James and Lily Potter had made it clear that should anything happen to them, Harry was to be raised by his godfather, Sirius Black. As it turned out, Sirius Black, still being a reckless scoundrel was, at the time, serving a sentence of two years in an Italian prison for beating the tar out of a man with minor political connections. Subsequently, Harry was sent to live with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon until Sirius was to be released in eight months.
During his time with the Dursleys, young Harry would suffer daily neglect and regular emotional abuse. Every night he would cry himself to sleep. However, every morning Harry would wake with a warm smile on his face. Even after Sirius eventually took Harry away from the Dursleys, the odd nights occurred. Sirius expected Harry to suffer through unimaginable nightmares as he would have had every right to, but it never happened. Not that Harry didn’t have issues. It just never manifested at night. It didn’t matter what state in which Harry went to bed, he would always wake up well rested and optimistically cheerful. Sirius would often ask Harry what he dreamed about, but Harry would always respond that he couldn’t remember his dreams.
Harry wasn’t happy with Hermione’s question but it wasn’t entirely an invalid concern. Harry knew the killer was dead, however whether the monster was truly working alone or whether there might be copycats was always minor issues in the back of Harry’s mind.
“We don’t believe so, Miss Granger. From what Dobby has told us and our own preliminary investigations, we believe Harry Potter is at the center of this mystery, but it doesn’t appear to have anything in common with that specific event. Faerie social interactions are complex to say the least, but it’s safe to say that some faerie has taken a keen interest in young Mister Potter.”
“What do we do about it?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“We’ll need to isolate Mr Potter.” Harry flinched at Dumbledore’s words. He may not have suffered from recurring nightmares, but he did have some psychological issues. Mainly an acute form of claustrophobia and abandonment issues. Harry’s eyes darted from person to person in the room as his breathing intensified.
Ron immediately noticed and put a well-intentioned hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry immediately jerked away from his friend and began to spiral into a full-blown panic attack.
“You can’t lock me away.” Harry began to hyperventilate and stumbled against the wall behind him.
“Harry. It’ll be okay. It’s for your own good.” Hermione tried to calm Harry down, but to no effect.
“No! Stay away! Stay away from me!” Harry, pulled out his wand, out of the terror of being reminded of his months at the Dursleys and his prison beneath the stairs.
A red flash streaked across the room as Mad Eye Moody whipped out his wand at an incredible speed and stupefied the child before he had a chance to act rashly. As Harry Potter lost consciousness, he could hear people yelling Moody’s name.
Some time later, Harry woke up on the cold, damp floor of a dungeon cell.
“Harry, please don’t panic. We brought you somewhere you would be safe.” Harry heard the familiar feminine voice echo throughout the dungeons.
“Hermione! Let me out, right now!” Harry sat up, angry that the people he trusted, who knew the most about his past, would even consider doing this to him. Had they lost their minds? He reached for his holster, but of course they had taken his wand. The nighttime sky was visible through a barred window high up, far out of reach.
“Harry, please listen. The bars here have been replaced with wrought iron. It’s toxic to the touch of any fair folk. It’ll keep out any faeries. You’ll be safe here.”
“You can’t do this to me! Let me out right now or I’ll never forgive you!”
“We’re doing this for your own good.” Ron’s voice chimed in, “You’ll thank us when this is over.”
Harry shut his eyes and rocked back and forth, trying to imagine himself being anywhere other than a cage. Anywhere other than under the stairs. Any place where friends wouldn’t think to do this to someone they claimed to care about.
It was then that the singing began again. It resonated through the dungeon windows and throughout the cells as it must have been doing throughout the castle.
Harry focused on how the song penetrated his very essence. It was impossibly soothing and world-shattering all at once. They were right it was calling to him. It beckoned to him and begged him to follow it somewhere safe and sound.
“HERE!!” Harry yelled out as he ran to the cell door, “They have me locked away! I can’t get out!”
“Harry! Stop!” Hermione hissed, “They’ll hear you.”
“HELP ME!” Harry cried out again, as the singing turned to a high-pitched screeching. Hermione and Ron covered their ears as the screaming began to grow louder. Wherever it was coming from, the offended entity was was getting unmistakably closer. It went from a terrifying wail to ear-splitting, inhuman shrieking.
Suddenly the door leading out of dungeon cracked and blew off its hinges as two blasts of red light rushed through the doorway and hit the still hunched forms of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. The two fell over on top of each other. Moments later a distinctly feminine silhouette strutted into the dungeon and stood on the opposite side of Harry’s cell door.
“Watch out. They told me it was wrought iron and you wouldn’t be able to touch it.”
“It’s true, my ‘Arry. But I don’t need to touch it.” The silhouette raised its wand, “Alohomora.” The wrought iron lock clattered, unlocked and the gate swung open with a loud rattle.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked the dark silhouette standing in the doorway to the cage.
“It’s time to remember, ‘Arry. It’s time to go. ‘Urry. Find me outside.” Harry blinked and the silhouette was gone.
Just as the figure vanished from sight, the haunting song returned on the wind. As Harry heard the melody, his eyes fluttered close for a moment. As he stood there, his mind flashed back to an old forest and a blonde child standing in front of him. Blue eyes were looking at him and an urge to follow filled him.
Harry’s eyes popped open. He remembered. It was her. Harry bolted from his cage and ran up out of the dungeons. As he did, he remembered the trees around him. He remembered the girl crying. Harry opened the doors barring his way. He remembered untangling her hair from the branches. Harry crossed the courtyard. He remembered the laughter and happiness he shared with the girl that day. Harry reached the main gate and pounded his fists on the locks.
“Dobby, please! Open the door!”
Dobby appeared next to Harry and made a desperate plea. “Harry Potter must not go.”
“Please Dobby. I have to go. I need her.” Harry began to sob.
“Harry Potter may never return.”
“Harry is out of his cage!! Quickly, we must find him!!” Dumbledore’s voice called out from within the depths of Hogwarts
“Please, Dobby! Please let me be happy. Please, let me go!”
Dobby fidgeted as his eyes darted from side to side. The cries for Harry were getting closer. Finally Dobby made a decision and cast the spell to unlock the main gate. Harry looked up as the bolts slid out of place and the doors began to crack and groaned as they opened.
Hermione and Ron appeared at the opposite end of the courtyard as the doors split apart.
Harry smiled as he faced Dobby. “Tell Sirius I love him and thanks for everything.”
“Harry!! Stop!!” Hermione screamed as Harry squeezed, painfully through the thin opening between the thick wooden doors and sprinted into the thick morning mist.
A sad smile appeared on Dobby’s face as he reversed the spell and began to shut the door, “Goodbye, Harry Potter.”
Hermione and Ron ran to the gate which was still in the process of opening. Hermione turned her head and screamed at Dobby, “What have you done?”
Dobby looked up confidently, “Harry Potter is free.”
Free. Harry was finally free as he ran over the mist obscured, grassy, slopes heading away from Hogwarts. No more lies. No more manipulations. No more imprisonment for his own good. He just had to find her. What was her name? C’mon Harry, think! Think back.
“I’m Harry. What’s your name?” The raven haired boy asked.
“Je m'appelle… my name est Fleur Delacour.” The blonde girl replied.
“Fleur Delacour” Harry whispered out loud.
As he said her name, the fog parted and formed a path. Wisps of fog formed arches at the top of the path and arrays of delicate flowers along the walls. At the end was the singing enchantress. There she was looking stunning in a blue dress, her silver blonde hair was cascading down her back. Her beautiful blue eyes met his as she beamed her warmest smile. Her bosom rose and fell with exceptional anticipation. Harry ran straight towards her outstretched arms. Moments later they embraced and held each other tightly. Together again, at last.
“‘Ello my ‘Arry. Do you remember zis song, now?”
“I remember everything, Fleur. We were in the woods together as children. You were lost and crying.”
“I was.”
“I found you. I went to comfort you.”
“You did.”
“In return, you sang for me.”
“I did. I wanted you to be wiz me so I marked you wiz my song.”
“Since that day, I was connected to you.”
“You are. As I belong to you.” Harry pulled slightly away from Fleur as they looked at each other. Fleur’s hand caressed the side of Harry’s face.
“Why didn’t you take me then?”
“I tried. I was young and you are very strong. You returned to your godfazzer instead of staying wiz me.”
“I remember wanting to stay, but Sirius would miss me. I had to leave.”
“Are you sure you want to be wiz me now?”
Harry sighed contently, “Absolutely. I’ve never felt complete since that day. The only time I felt fulfilled was…”
“In your dreams, my love?” Fleur asked as Harry’s gaze shot directly into her eyes and his jaw went slack. Like a light switch in his mind, Harry Potter began to remember his dreams. Whenever fear, anguish or anger threatened to take over his dreams, there was a kind voice soothing him, mesmerizing blue eyes watching and smiling at him, and feminine, loving arms wrapped around him.
“You were there. You were always watching me. Holding me.”
“Not always, but whenever I could be. Sometimes your own mind would put its subconscious memory of me into your dreams to ‘elp you cope wiz your pain. Every time I came to you in your dreams, ‘Arry, my magic would make you feel as zough you spent weeks with me.”
Fleur took Harry by his hand and pulled him into a deep kiss. Harry closed his eyes and the cries for Harry from his friends and teachers faded. Fleur was all Harry could hear, feel, smell and taste.
“You know, I ‘ave your full name. I could keep you by your name alone, but I wanted you to come wiz me willingly.”
“Where are we going.”
“‘Ome. Zough, we may never return. Is zat alright wiz you, my ‘Arry?”
Harry nodded softly as Fleur warmly embraced his hand and the two headed into a light within the Scottish fog. As the two faded from view, Fleur’s singing was replaced with the sound of Harry’s and Fleur’s childhood laughter which grew more and more distant until it too faded into the silence of the morning mist.