Work Text:
Harry, Fleur, and Luna inhabited a dark corner of the White Wyvern, the shadowed pub of Knockturn Alley. Luna was their one trusted ally outside of Cundale, the one school unknown to Voldemort's terror. Over the course of the war Luna had become increasingly sensitive to the future. Premonitions frequented her mind. Normally they were inconsequential, small things, what H’rmion’ was going to have for lunch, or the train being delayed (although, it didn’t require a psychic to predict that). This time she clearly felt it of importance. She’d reasoned the spring equinox heightened her powers.
Who shall be the one to reveal it?
An oblique tangent of overmorrow
Shoots down the stars to a bottomless pit
As friends and foe collide in French Bordeaux
Tailored suits and fitted dresses left behind
Dances of violence and despair prevail
For false friendships fracture a failed mankind
With nought but smoke and dust left to inhale
Battle ends as forsaken war began
Locked into five years of bitter stalemate
Two girls made a pawn into one game plan
Lovers tied together in twisted fate
Born already a lamb to the slaughter
Tragedy for the minister’s daughter
Fleur glanced at Harry. The dots connected quicker for her. Amelia Blair. Her father had just become the Prime Minister. The girl hadn’t even finished her first year of a fragmented education, and was prophesied about for a war that hadn’t started, after living what should be her best years through the brutality of another.
Fate could still be changed if acted upon. Amelia was a train on tracks to her certain death. Fleur was going to derail her.