(Word Count: 1,714)
Morning sunlight slanted across the Place Cachée, bright on pennants and stall awnings and the glossy black stones of the square. Inside the hotel's café on the main floor, Harry sat at a corner table with Sirius, Dora, Andromeda, Ted, Arcturus, and Flitwick. They were all in separate hotels and agreed to meet here.
Harry sipped at his coffee and looked at the morning's newspaper folded up waiting on the table for the next reader. He clenched the handle in anger when he saw the cover. The front page ran a full-width photograph of Fleur in profile from yesterday, showcasing her moment of losing control, and Raskov being momentarily stunned. The headline scrolled across the page: Bewitched By Beauty! Was Last Year's Title Earned Or Enchanted?
The column beneath it never named her a cheat outright, but every paragraph pushed the suspicion forward with sly suggestions and questions. If she had truly been in command, why the loss of control. If the allure was not decisive last season, why rely on it now. A sidebar rehearsed last year's bracket and suggested that certain opponents might have "unwittingly" been hampered.
Flitwick picked up the paper and sighed sadly. "What an outrage! That poor girl. She doesn't deserve this!"
"She's a veela," Arcturus said coolly, not looking up from his tea. "She should have expected the consequences of losing control in public. The press is not wrong to question it. Once you show weakness, they will always test for more. If she doesn't handle herself well today, the press will continue villainizing her."
Harry frowned, his coffee tasted far more bitter now. This was just another reason why he hated the press.
Arcturus glanced over the rim of his cup at Harry. "Reputation is only as strong as one's ability to defend it, Harry. You would do well to remember that."
Ted raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit harsh, isn't it? She's fifteen."
"I think I'll say something about this before the match," Harry said. "Not about the article itself, but I could explain that I'm an occlumens."
"Good," Flitwick's voice chimed. "That way, she won't have to worry about holding back as she had been."
"Do not let them drag you into her mess," Arcturus warned. "This is your day. Don't waste it defending someone else's scandal."
Dora checked the time and stood. "The Grangers will be coming through the Ministry any minute. If we don't leave now, we will be pushing through half the tournament to find them."
They downed their drinks and left coins by the cups and stepped back into the bright street. The streets of Place Chachée had changed since they had first arrived. Now, it seemed like every inch of the place was covered in posters promoting the final match this afternoon.
~~ ITW,H ~~
Once again, they stopped by the French Ministry's central atrium to await the arrival of the Grangers. The portkey reception was fenced off with a polished brass railing to mark off the area so people didn't inadvertently wander into it and cause an incident. The area had some wards around it to catch incoming portkey travels and redirect them into the circle.
When apparating or creating a portkey, the farther one tried to go the harder it was to be accurate. Apparition wasn't a problem, since the witch or wizard is in active control of the entire process and subconsciously adjusts mid route, but portkeys were automatic and couldn't rely on the ones using it to adjust. That's why, when creating a portkey, one had to be very precise. This redirecting ward made it so when the Ministry created portkeys, they only had to make it so they arrived anywhere within Place Cachée. This made the process much quicker.
A clerk came up to stand beside the railing with a quill floating at her side marking down arrivals.
At precisely 9 o'clock, the air warped like a heat wave, and suddenly three figures appeared, as if dropping from the sky. They all stumbled, with Hermione falling to the ground and a dented tin teapot clattered away from her. Her parents swayed, but they caught themselves.
"Oof!" Hermione groaned, rubbing her nose pitifully.
Mr. Granger pressed a hand to his stomach and blew out a slow breath to try and ease his nausea. "I do not know if I like that one. That may be worse than apparition. At least that one was quick."
"Dan! Emma! Hermione!" Sirius called.
The Grangers looked over to find the Black family waiting for them.
"Harry," Hermione said embarrassed, she hurriedly got up from the ground and launched forward for a hug. Her hug drove him back a step. "Do you have any idea how difficult it has been getting proper updates? I've had to comb through French newspapers and the Wizarding Wireless every evening to know what's going on. You promised you would write."
"I did no such thing!" Harry pulled back a bit with mock indignation, then gave a sheepish grin. "But you're right, I should have written."
Arcturus stepped forward. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he said with a small nod. "Welcome. I am Arcturus Black. Harry has spoken highly of you." He turned to Hermione. "Especially of you, Miss Granger. I'm told you're a very talented young witch."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said.
"You must be Lord Black, Harry's Grandfather?" Dan stepped forward and offered a hand in greeting. "It's nice to meet you."
Arcturus glanced at the extended hand a bit distastefully, but shook it. "Yes, it is nice to meet you."
Sirius clapped his hands. "Alright! What do you all say we go visit the Eiffel tower? We've got some time to kill before Harry's match."
"Oh, yes! We can even visit that nice restaurant we went to last time!" Emma said cheerfully.
~~ ITW,H ~~
By late morning, they all returned to the tournament venue to find the streets feeding into the arena were packed with witches and wizards cramming to get into the stadium. Some aurors were trying to corral the crowd into a line off to the side so they didn't block the road for everyone else.
They managed to get past the crowd, with the aurors letting them pass when they recognized Harry, and made their way inside.
The Delacours were already seated near the judges' box. Harry could feel Fleur's allure pulling at everyone around her, so she wasn't trying to suppress it as she had before. Fleur met his gaze and confidently raised her chin in challenge. He grinned and nodded.
As the time for the match drew close, Harry made his way over to Mr. Lazard, who was waiting at the edge of the press pen. "Mr. Lazard," he said, " May I have a quick word?"
"Of course!" Mr. Lazard placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and they walked a few paces away from the press. "What is it, Mr. Potter?"
"I wanted to know how you planned to address the controversy regarding yesterday's incident," Harry stated.
"Ah, yes. That was most unfortunate, truly. Don't you worry, Mr. Potter! I will make a brief announcement before we start clarifying the rules of the tournament. Miss Delacour did nothing wrong, even if most see it as distasteful," Mr. Lazard said.
"I see. Thank you. It might help you to know that I am a natural occlumens. You can announce that as well to… put everyone at ease," Harry said.
"Really? That's extraordinary!" Mr. Lazard said, then he got a look like he had a great idea. "Actually, why don't you say a few words before we start? I'm sure it would be better if it came from you!"
"Err, no, that's okay. You can do it," Harry tried to get out of it, but Mr. Lazard just laughed.
"Nonsense! Everyone came to see you anyway, might as well give them a few words. It's settled then!" With that, Mr. Lazard gave a satisfied nod and walked off before Harry could deny it.
Harry sighed, and returned to his seat. 'Well, I guess this isn't the worst thing.'
When everyone managed to find their seats, and the stadium was packed full, it was time to begin. Mr. Lazard walked onto the stage and raised his wand. "Mesdames et messieurs," the Sonorus made his voice echo above the crowd's, "Welcome to the finale! Before the match begins, one reminder of the rules. All official dueling circuits—the U-15, U-17, and Adult Circuits—permit inherent magical abilities. This includes Metamorphmagus transformations, Legilimency and Occlumency, the Veela allure, and many others. The rules have been the same for years.
"Rest assured! We have some of the best judges in the world analyzing everything. If there is something against the rules, they will call it out! Please, trust in our judgment."
The murmur that followed was lively. Some protested, but overall the crowd wasn't hostile. The press pen exploded in camera flashes and the quills hastily scribbled Mr. Lazard's words. Lazard nodded toward Harry. "Now, I've invited Mr. Potter to say a few words. Mr. Potter."
Harry stepped forward, and looked out into the crowd. He raised his wand to the throat and cast Sonorus. "I would like to add only this. I am a natural Occlumens. Miss Delacour's allure does not affect me." He let the words stand plain for a heartbeat, then continued. "She will not hold back, and neither will I. Win or lose, I hope all of you will judge today on the skill you see and not taint the outcome with accusations. I ask that you respect the duel and the duelists. That is all."
"Very well said," Lazard murmured as he drew back. "Now, Miss Delacour, come take your well earned place on the stage! To your positions! "
Fleur walked onto the stage with her head held high, wand already drawn and ready.
Lazard hopped off the platform. "Contestants ready?"
Harry met Fleur's eyes, smirked, and cast off his cloak with a wandless flick toward Sirius, and rolled the shoulders beneath his dueling robes. Fleur frowned at the showy display.
"Ready," they both said.
"Bow!" Harry and Fleur came to the center and bowed.
"Good luck," Harry said.
"Bonne chance," Fleur said.
They returned to their starting positions.
"Let the match… Begin!"