38 - Violent Dreams

Not much happened over the next few days, a fact for which Fleur was grateful. Things in Harry's life tended to move rather rapidly by her standards, and she occasionally felt like she might get swept away. The calmer things were, the happier she was.

Harry felt no differently, but he was clearly much more accustomed to the pace that fate forced upon him.

Another thing that helped her mood was that they knew exactly what to do for the last task — and Cedric and Viktor would be joining them. It was so simple and so obvious, that it really would make a total mockery of the Tournament. She could only see that as a good thing.

And it required no training time, which was even better!

When Monday rolled around, they went right back to their normal schedules. For Fleur, this meant sitting around in the Beauxbatons carriage and studying on her own; Harry and Hermione did so about half the time. They had just sat down for the afternoon session, in fact, and were happily studying.

Fleur noted that Harry looked sleepy, but ignored it. It had long since become clear that he was a very hard worker, and that he occasionally overdid things. One extra nap wouldn't hurt anything if he fell asleep, and might help in fact, so she didn't see the need to bother him.

While one might expect that Hermione might be annoyed be his lacking attention, she wasn't. She had noted the extreme improvement in his grades since joining the Delacour family, and so kept her own counsel. She didn't care how he studied, as long as he studied enough to do well in classes.

Fleur only knew this because they had discussed it a few weeks prior. It was a very new sensation having a friend at all, let alone a female one, and she certainly wasn't complaining. She also easily saw why Harry liked the girl; while she had her quirks to be certain, she was also extremely intelligent, and her morals and ethics were right where they should be.

She'd had to nip S.P.E.W. in the bud, though. Fortunately, however, the proper information had taken care of that very quickly. Elves were not slaves; they were symbiotic. Once Hermione understood that, it was fine. Well, that and calling her out on the name.

For such an intelligent girl, she could occasionally miss the blazingly obvious, and Harry was too overly polite at times to mention it.

Smiling faintly to herself at the thought, she moved aside her Arithmancy work and pulled her Runes book over. Ancient Runes was a favorite of hers, so she almost always saved it for last. She was just getting into it though, when she was interrupted.

Harry let out a pained scream, and suddenly sat bolt upright, wild-eyed and breathing heavily, one hand over the famous scar on his forehead.

Both girls moved like lightning; Hermione took to his side and put an arm around him, clearly thinking that he might have had a bad dream. This was far from impossible — he'd had more than a few since they started sleeping in the same bed — but some deeply-rooted instinct told her otherwise.

She knelt in front of him and looked him in the eye, noting the way that he locked onto her gaze, drinking her in as he slowly settled.

"'Arry?" she prompted.

"Vision," he grunted. "Voldemort. Not fun."

Fleur furrowed her brow in worry. "You 'ad a vision?" she echoed. "What did you see?"

"He was mad about something," he explained, his voice still pained and breathy. "Don't know what. Wormtail screwed up somehow, but they fixed it. He put the Cruciatus on him to punish him. That was when I woke up." His voice got even smaller as he added, "It really hurt."

Fleur left it to Hermione to offer him physical comfort for a moment, and closed her eyes as she contemplated the possible ramifications of this. She did not know how it was possible, but she was certain that his curse scar had something to do with it. They were going to have to figure this out, and soon.

The fact that Voldemort might be active was, frankly, terrifying. They had discussed his vision over the summer, and she had no doubt that he would not lie about such things. This meant that they had a serious problem: they could not fight both Voldemort and Dumbledore at the same time by any stretch of the imagination, and she was certain that Voldemort would target Harry for the mere fact of his survival so many years ago.

What concerned her more immediately, though, was the way he shuddered when he mentioned the Cruciatus Curse. He was not one to give into pain – he'd experienced far too much of it in his life for it to hold much sway over him – and so to admit that something hurt spoke volumes. And since she had been taught what to look for, she was even more concerned.

She had never seen it before, but from what they had been taught, he was showing all the signs of exposure to that awful curse.

"You need to see a 'ealer, 'Arry," she told him quietly. "Zis should not be 'appening, and I do not like eet."

"I'm fine," he said with a shake of his head.

Fleur shook her head. "Non, you are not," she retorted, and then snorted at Hermione, who grinned wryly back, having echoed her sentiment at the same time.

"You are suffering from zat curse," she continued, "but zat is not what I meant. Zey need to examine your scar, 'Arry. We must know 'ow zis ees 'appening in case eet ees a problem."

Harry groaned and leaned forward, and Fleur gently wrapped her arms around him so he could rest his head on her shoulder. She knew that this was not an act of physical pain or exhaustion, but rather his dislike of healers speaking. The Hogwarts Healer had not done him any favors, constantly shoving nasty-tasting potions down his throat, and it was something she was deeply annoyed by: potions did not taste bad unless the maker wanted them to (or was a rank amateur).

This was Magic, not chemistry!

"She's right, Harry," Hermione chimed in. "It's worth getting it checked out. If Madam Pomfrey was the best there is, she'd be working at St. Mungo's or something, not in a school."

"Fine," he mumbled.

Fleur couldn't help the smile that overcame her at his petulance.

It took about ten minutes to track down Maxime and get a Portkey made to take them to the Chateau — Harry was still obviously pained, and she doubted that a Floo ride would do him any good — and then they were away. Hermione couldn't accompany them, much to her dismay; Fleur was an adult, and Harry had his guardian's permission, but Hermione did not have either advantage.

Moments later, Fleur was steadying Harry in the entryway, and had just helped him get his precarious balance back when her mother came bustling into the room. Her expression turned alarmed when she saw them.

"Fleur?" she prompted urgently, even as she rushed forward and hugged Harry, only to pull away again and examine him critically.

"Eet is complex, Maman," she said. "Is Papa 'ere?"

Arienne shook her head. "Non, 'e is at work. What do you need?"

"We must take 'Arry to a 'ealer," she said heavily. "'E is suffering from Cruciatus exposure, and I think 'is curse scar could be a problem. 'E 'ad a vision of Voldemort."

Arienne's eyes bugged out and she immediately conjured a rope and turned it into a Portkey. "Zis will take us to ze 'ospital," she said, gently forcing Harry take hold of it. His eyes were starting to droop.

Fleur nodded and grabbed hold, and next thing they knew, they were standing in the lobby of Hôpital Magique de Paris, and an attendant bustled over. Arienne quickly gave the name of their family Healer and noted that it was an emergency – and on realizing who they were, the woman bustled quickly away to find her. Harry's weight was falling more and more on Fleur, and she doubted they had much longer before he passed out in sheer exhaustion; the vision had taken a lot out of him.

The attendant returned a moment later and led them to a private room on the second floor, where Fleur lowered him onto the edge of the bed. He looked dejected and quite embarrassed, but she tried to ignore it. He hated showing weakness, but he needed to learn when it was necessary to admit that he needed help.

His relatives had made him think that he was somehow unworthy of care, and that annoyed her to no end. She intended to do all she could to ensure that he knew that he was far more worthy than most. It would probably take a lot of effort, but the sooner she succeeded, the better as far as she was concerned.

It wasn't long before a young American woman that Fleur recognized as the Healer entered the room. She had no idea why an American Healer had chosen to work in France, but she genuinely liked the woman. She was pleasant and caring.

And her eyes widened when she saw who she was dealing with, though it only lasted a moment before she turned to Fleur's mother.

"On m'a dit il s'agit d'une urgence, Arienne?" she said.

Arienne waved a hand. "Eenglish please, Naomi," she requested. "And yes, it is an emergency. My son-in-law..." She suddenly frowned and turned to Fleur, who sighed.

"'E 'ad some kind of vision," she explained. "'E witnessed Voldemort casting ze Cruciatus, and I think 'e experienced ze effects of it. 'is curse scar ees eenflamed, and 'e grabbed it when ze vision struck."

Harry blinked up at her. "I did?" he asked blankly.

Fleur smiled patiently at him. "You did," she told him.

"Oh."

The Healer stood there for a moment in thought, and then nodded a few times to herself. "Alright, let's take a look," she decided. "I'm not sure what could cause that, so I'll need to do a full series. It won't take too long."

Harry winced, and Fleur stroked his damp hair, as Arienne responded. "Give 'im a full examination while you are at it, Naomi," she requested. "I do not believe 'e 'as 'ad a proper one, so eet ees long past due."

"I'm okay, ma'am," he said weakly, his obvious fear forcing him to unconsciously revert to more formal behavior.

Arienne cast an understanding smile on him and brushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing the livid red of his scar. "You know better zan zat, 'Arry," she said gently. "You are not in trouble, but I must insist on zis. We should 'ave 'ad it done when we took custody of you. Zere was so much going on zat we just missed eet."

Harry studied her for a moment before finally nodding and closing his eyes. "'E ees exhausted," whispered Fleur.

"I'll make it as quick as I can, Fleur," smiled Naomi. Then she smirked and asked, "Or do you prefer Mrs. Potter?"

Fleur smirked in amusement. "You know better," she retorted. "But at least you can remember, unlike zat bâtard 'ogwarts calls a 'eadmaster."

Naomi snorted and motioned for her to lay him out on the bed. "One day you'll have to tell me that story," she smirked. "I have to admit, I'm mighty curious what's got you so pissed off at him. But let's get this done and we can talk later."

And so it began. Naomi started by giving him a potion for the effects of Cruciatus – which immediately relieved some of his pain — and then began casting spell after spell, starting with the most common medical diagnostics and going from there. Fleur was not surprised to see her expression go from pleasant to positively thunderous as she worked: Harry was not in the best of shape, and definitely needed care.

Fleur herself had been intending to handle that issue over the summer, but now it was a moot point. He would get the best care possible, of this she was certain. There was a reason they liked Healer Parks: she was very good at what she did.

Finally, she put her wand away and sat down on the edge of the bed, where Harry had actually fallen asleep. Fleur was mildly surprised when she reached out and brushed his cheek with her hand, looking deeply troubled. Finally she sighed and returned her attention to the Delacour women.

She considered her words carefully for a moment before– "How much do you know about his past?" she asked bluntly.

"Too much, Naomi," said Arienne sadly. "'E was badly abused, of zis we are aware. Eet ees why we now 'ave 'im."

Naomi nodded slowly. "Then you won't be surprised by what I'm going to say," she sighed. "He's had more broken bones than I care to count, and it's probably only his magic that forced them to set right. Bruises, cuts, scars... The boy must have one hell of a tolerance for pain, or he never would have survived it all."

Fleur abruptly realized that Harry was sleeping for a reason: she had cast a sleeping spell on him. There was no other way she would have discussed this in the same room with him. It wasn't the way things were done.

And she was clearly very disturbed.

"If that were all it was," she said slowly, "I would give him some nutritional potions and let him go with a recommendation to see a Mind Healer. That we'll still do, but there's more that I don't think you're aware of."

"What is it?" asked Fleur, reverting to French since Harry was asleep.

Naomi sighed. "Were you aware that he has a block on his magic?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Fleur instantly paled. Blocks were not only immoral, they were highly illegal in every civilized country. The only place they could be used was on dangerous criminals. To forcibly cut off any part of a wizard's magic could cause all sorts of problems.

"What?" hissed her mother.

Naomi nodded sadly. "It looks like it was placed approximately ten years ago," she said heavily. "And it's powerful. I'm frankly amazed that he can cast magic at all. It will be extremely painful to remove, but it absolutely must be done if you ever want him to have full access to his magic. The longer it's there, the more problematic it will be to remove, until it becomes permanent in maybe another year or two. We're already at the limit of what I think he can handle."

Fleur surged to her feet and walked away, trying desperately to keep her avian side in check. "That bastard!" she spat. "I am going to kill him!"

"Hush, Fleur," admonished her mother. "We will deal with Dumbledore later, but we must deal with 'Arry now."

Fleur closed her eyes for a moment and reigned in her temper. That man was going to pay! Every time she turned around he had done something else to make Harry's life that much worse. And this would be a big issue, because he would have to completely re-learn control of his magic!

"Go on," she growled.

"He will need to learn control of his new power levels, and it's impossible to say how difficult that will be. Some people get it almost instinctively, and for some it takes years. It won't be too much of a problem though, so long as he's careful about what he casts, when, and on what."

"I already know zis," nodded Fleur, not unkindly. "What else?"

"Other than several tracking charms that I removed?" mused Naomi, causing Fleur's hackles to rise again. "Put simply, you're right that something is wrong with that scar of his, but that's all I can tell you. Dark Magic is not my area of expertise, and the thing is soaked in it. My recommendation would be to bring in a curse-breaker, and I know of only one who I would trust with this."

"Who?" asked Arienne.

"I doubt you've ever heard of him, but he works for Gringotts and comes highly recommended. His name is Bill Weasley."

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I'm a little burnt out these days. Family matters can be a little bit pressing.