91 Something You'll Sorely Miss

(12 Advanced Chapters In Sheo.bio, it's free. )

Fleur POV:

She might be all about quiet confidence and unrelenting drive to excel, but for this one time Fleur was not afraid to admit she was on edge.

She shouldn't have, the magic within the goblet of fire knew what it was doing, it saw the skill and value that put her above her peers. She had been ready for this too, ever since that damned golden egg had started screeching.

It took her no more than three weeks to find the clue, though her ears had bled plenty beforehand. She could've made it stop at any point, by putting aside her pride and asking that sweet boy with an endearing knowing grin.

But she didn't, not this time.

If she did, then there was no doubt that Magnus would once more forsake his school's champion and do all he could to ensure her safety and victory, in that order. But it would be too much, way too much.

Fleur was proud, and wanted to own this victory in full.

Pride goeth before the fall, she did not know who said this quote, but it did not make it any less truthful.

Yet cluelessly she ignored it, even after hearing that accursed message. It wall theatrics, the powers above wanted more drama, more intensity to make their little project as consequent and profitable as possible.

It was the same reason that pushed them to create those large stands and opened the gates of Hogwarts to the public so that all might enjoy the sight of a handful of students fighting for some coin, and five minutes of glory.

Why did she put her name in that cup again? Ah yes, prove herself.

'It must be another clue or aid for the third task.' She had concluded.

A sound deduction; they wouldn't truly take away what was hers, right?

She should've known better than to underestimate the utter stupidity and disregard of wizardkind, especially those given powers they hardly deserved.

We've taken what you'll sorely miss

The words rang again and again in her head, she had been busy, terribly busy in the days before the second task.

Madam Maxime was a slavedriver, and she didn't accept anything less than complete dedication, it took the visit of her family for the headmistress to give her some free time.

It should have clued her in.

There had been no time for furtive dinners in the kitchen, outings in the unused towers, rests in her safe room by the library and of course no sight of her Mr Noir.

"Ready little flower?" Her father's wide chest and strong hands on her shoulders did nothing to ease her worries.

Fleur smiled nonetheless, giving a shaky nod. Her smile widened seeing the little devil attached to her mother's hips, that knowing grin might've looked supportive but there was doubtlessly something foul going on.

They walked together in silence, leaving the enchanted carriage now expanded again to house her parents and little sister, the other guests would either have to spend time in the local villages or leave altogether.

Appoline did try to make it less grim, throwing supportive comments and teasing quips that would ordinarily make her blush.

Alas, it was to no avail, the pit in her stomach was growing ever greater.

"Give it up, maman," Gabby said, a mischievous smile on her face "Fleur has been missing her beau."

She did not blush…too much.

'Where on earth is he anyway?' Fleur thought, but wisely did not share her opinions on the matter.

While they did not have much time for each other lately, she expected him to reach out now that the second task began. He did it in the first task, and then they were not nearly as close as they were now.

Was he vexed that she didn't take him up on his offer to help? She found herself wondering, and more than a little bitter.

The second task was to be taken in the Black lake, though it was now obvious with the great stands and crowds of adults and students alike forming a veritable swarm of observers.

Her competitors were there already, Krum was discussing with a hard-faced, rather short man and an equally stoic woman that would almost reach Madame Maxime's elbows. Diggory seemed more confident than in the first task, emboldened by his preparation and the comforting presence of his parents.

Amos Diggory, a prominent figure among the light traditionalists. Magnus had told her about him, and most relevant characters in that unreasonable quagmire known as the magical branch of British high society.

She looked around, and found every single friend and acquaintance of her in the isle yet no sign of the raven haired son of Black.

Ludo Bagman, that ridiculous man who lacked the sense not to cheat goblins once more spoke out, his voice amplified by a Sonorous charm.

And not for the first time, his words filled her with dread.

For it wasn't a treasure they ought to find, nor a hint, but the people they cared about.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them." The ministry official said with a smile, proud of the second task they prepared.

Behind him the school heads were sitting nonchalantly, as if they didn't just take away her Magnus.

Fleur's mind conjured the image of her date for the yule ball, and she did not need that foolish man's announcement to know who was taken away for the sake of a bloodsport.

An hour long you'll have to look. 

She wanted to rage for this madness, her blood demanded retribution, but she couldn't. Not now, at least.

The more she looked at the expectant faces, the eyes hungry for entertainment, at her expanse! She could feel the feather growing in her neck, and it took all of her mother's teaching to stay in control.

But past an hour, the prospect's black.

Fleur will find him, drag him out of that frozen lake and then….

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back. 

. . .

Magnus POV:

It was wet, and smothering.

Magnus felt himself stir, yet he couldn't move one inch, or even open his eyes.

Even thinking was hard at his point, so hard.

'Did…did I die?' 

The thought was nowhere as hard as Tyson's left hook, yet he couldn't help but entertain it. Was he dead? Born anew in a stranger's nurturing womb, fated to discover a brave new world and all its wonder?

It didn't sound impossible, it happened to him once, though he appeared a bit later in life.

He even had magic, if his memory didn't fail him.

Magis, and a school, Hogwarts.

He was sweet on a girl too, though she never failed to get him in trouble, Fleur.

The kind of trouble that involved him being thrown down in a lake, put under magical stasis while she 'rescued' him for some twisted tournament.

'Ah right,' He'd shake his head, if his body hadn't betrayed him, 'I remember.'

And remember he did; it started with Minerva's final pleas to deny the headmaster, and let them find another hostage for Fleur. He refused, confident in his precautions.

Dumbledore argued once more for him to give up his wand.

'Yeah, fat chance of that happening.'

Obviously, the old man was unsuccessful. Magnus could feel the familiar presence within the fir wood in its holster, yet he failed to reach out for it.

It would have been more surprising if he could, brushing off an obscure sleeping charm cast by Albus-I-Drown-Children-Dumbledore using the legendary death stick of all things was just a tiny little bit out of his reach.

For now.

But he did not worry, for he had a plan, as always.

Still, he was glad to feel the bronze necklace resting safely on his person, his contingencies were less pleasant.

They wouldn't suit his purposes either, this was a fine way to take things to the next level with his sweet flower.

Nothing like an insinuated kidnapping to bring people together, right?

That's why Dumbledore didn't mind it, he was all in for the power of love and all that crap.

Once more he tried to overcome the torpor, 'For now, I can only wait.' 

Which was a rather unfortunate course of action, albeit a planned one. Magnus has never been the patient type, awkward romance with french maiden notwithstanding.

Especially when bewitched by a man he knew little about, with a spell he knew even less about, and put at the mercy of creatures he knew nothing about.

When put like this, this whole situation was even more messed up.

It took the unlikely combination of an appeal to what's left of his sense of honor, coupled with unrelenting force of cuteness further empowered by the affections of his Fleur and the promise of scoring some brownie points to even make him consider signing up for this madness.

Gabrielle Delacour was a lucky girl indeed.

"..."

Minutes passed by, with Magnus barely aware of his surroundings, it was tricky to extend that pseudo-sixth sense wizards used to sense the magic in their surroundings.

More often than not it would work in tandem with their vision, and more mundane perception. And while it wasn't exactly uncommon for skilled wizards to hone it further, attuning their senses to the intricacies of spellcraft, it was not nearly as easy as he liked to pretend.

Of course, a lifetime spent without that particular power made Magnus more adept at sensing it, the same way it made him a better learner and fended off that near-illness that struck purebloods and muggleborns alike, making them lose the sheer wonder magic should impress on them.

However, it was far from the godly boons he'd read about in fancy tales back in the day.

He could feel his own magic well enough, flowing through his body and beyond it, though it was much more sluggish, affected by a foreign presence he recognized as Dumbledore's mighty spell.

It was rather impressive, doubly so if he didn't know that the old man had used what essentially amounts to mythical steroids.

'The Death Stick is such a cheat,' He'd sigh if his body wasn't tightly bound by magical bonds, which was less than kinky in this situation.

By stretching his senses, he could feel two familiar magical presences, much like his own albeit fainter and very much comatose.

'The other hostages,' His mind supplied, 'And the dozen unknowns must be the merpeople.'

They must've been placed far away from their settlement, which was understandable. It was already surprising that they managed to negotiate this whole farce in mermish territory, using their village would've been the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Unlike him and his fellow wizards, whose magic was rather neutral with minor varieties, the merpeople were much more…intense, for lack of a better word.

They didn't have an affinity for water like some wizards boasted, they were beings of water.

'Like walking, living aguamentis.' He mused, 'But if that's the case, shouldn't Veela feel like sentient Incendios mixed in with a Confundus spell?'

But he knew it wasn't true, at least not completely.

Magnus didn't know that many Veela, of course, but the ones he did know he was very familiar with. He knew for a fact they shared the same magic as most witches he knew, with minor differences, except for one addition.

Another, wholly different source of magic.

An inner fire, so to speak.

From it came their famed allure, which both enhanced their looks and weakened the minds for better or worse. It also availed them another form, which Fleur has never shown nor commented on with anything but distaste, so he refrained from asking.

He was confident on that part, for he had seen her draw from that inner fire to bring out actual flames into the world. A few sneaky spells had shown him it was something different from normal spellfire, a discovery that roused his curiosity to nearly crippling levels.

But he knew she wasn't nearly as comfortable discussing her inhuman nature as he was, and to press the matter would only push her further away from him.

That was unacceptable.

In the end he only commented on the usefulness of such fire, noting that it must be the reason for her warmth; both a blessing in the Scottish winters, and a suitable reason for him to hold her.

'I need her warmth quite badly, right now,' Magnus could feel the cold waters, which he'll have to endure fully as soon as Dumbledore's spell broke. 'It's gonna be such a pain in the arse.'

The Fates were smiling at him, as it was, away in the distance he felt the unmistakable presence of his would-be rescuer.

It was faint, both the distance and troublesome domain were hindering his perception, but it was there.

'And that's all I need.' He'd smile, if he could.

In his neckline, the bronze pendant was growing ever hotter, so much that even his enchanted numbness couldn't stop him from feeling the searing pain on his skin.

While unpleasant, it was a worthy trade.

Through the pain and heat, the magic stored within the necklace broke into his body, as was its purpose.

It found the invading magic, and rushed in to counter its effects; taking on rousing and revitalizing properties, the polar opposite of Dumbledore's enhanced charm of torpor, ideal to break it.

It was a tough battle, much more difficult than Magnus had ever expected it to be, within the pendent he stored nearly a full day's worth of magical power, barely contained by the assortment of jewels trapped in the bronze locket.

All of it was enchanted to have a single effect, that of a Reviving Spell; such power dedicated to a simple charm should have blitzed through any kind of enchanted sleep barring long rituals and painfully brewed potions.

Yet the power of the elder wand wielded by the most powerful wizard known to be alive was not to be underestimated.

It was ten long minutes before Magnus started to feel the creeping cold, and ten more before he could do as much as twitch his finger.

But that was all he needed, a simple twitch.

He summoned his wand from its holster in a gesture he practiced thousands of times, ever since that fateful day when he braved the womanly abuse of his cheeks and the poor wording choices of a wand enthusiast.

It answered the call, as it always did.

Wand in hand, he mustered up his magic, focused with precision, shaped it with wordless yet strong intent before casting his spell.

The Bronze locket was nearly out of power, and it had served him admirably. The torpor had been weakened, the water breathing charm hindered beyond repair, now it was all on him.

'Reinervate.' 

His spell crashed against what was left of Dumbledore's bindings, yet they held strong even after all that abuse.

'Reinervate.'

Another casting, another failure. Holding his wand was getting harder, and the lack of oxygen was not making things any easier.

How ridiculous would it be if he ended up drowning now? The story of Magnus Black, ending because he was too paranoid to just go with the flow and be rescued like a nice little hostage.

A wizard-like fate if he'd ever seen one.

'Reinervate.' 

The barriers were in shambles, but so was he. What little magic the locket allowed to seep through was nearly gone, and there was simply no way he could break what's left of the charm with it.

Magnus contemplated using a water breathing charm, it would last him long enough for people to come to his aid.

'Unless…' He thought, 'Yes, it could work.'

It must have been the lack of air, or some unforeseen effects of Dumbledore's magic, but in a rare fit of almost Gryffindorish rashness, Magnus decided to leave it all to a final gambit.

There was no foolish wand waving this time around, nor did he whisper a spell in the confines of his mind to polish his intent.

No, he did the one most ridiculous thing possible.

Grabbing hold of the slivers of free magic he had left, he imbued them with a single purpose, one he had experienced hundreds of times at the hand's of a certain flower's heritage.

Attraction.

A beckon for the repressed magic to break free and roam around his body, to break out of the overpowered stunner on its own, to overcome a spell from the elder wand.

It was arrogant for sure, bordering on stupidity.

'It might just work.'

It started with a faint pull, but rapidly died down taking his hopes with it. It lasted for a few more moments; like stray embers on a pyre, and he was already calculating the chances of brain damage from oxygen deprivation.

Nothing magic couldn't fix, hopefully.

Fortunately, his stupidity paid off.

Through sheer quantity, and stubborn refusal to be found lacking, his magic overcame the sundered remnants of the offending charm, shattering the dam with righteous vengeance.

It felt like spitting on the face of an oppressing authority after years of silence.

It felt like taking off his boots after a day of grueling, mind numbing work.

It felt like enjoying a long bath after getting rid of pesky visitors who just wouldn't take a hint.

Yes, it felt great, and more importantly, it felt right.

Magnus would gladly take more time to contemplate the awesomeness of the moment, but he was sadly on the verge of blacking out and drowning like a little shit.

Casting the bubble head charm almost felt like accidental magic.

He took deep breaths, and tried not to think about how the oxygen was passing from the water to the bubble's inside, he needed the rest.

Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was the ugly mug of a spear wielding, green skinned, pointy toothed merman who did not look happy to see him alive.

The guard seemed to say something, somehow forgetting that sound didn't travel so well underwater.

Regardless, it didn't seem to be anything nice.

'Diffindo.'

If there was any doubt to their hostility, it was cleared the moment Magnus set himself free; cutting the rope with a swift move of his wand.

They barred their razor sharp teeth at him, an universal sign of aggression and intimidation; which would have been useful, if they weren't making stabbing motions with their long, metal spears

Others had joined the lone merman, all of them armed and not too jolly looking.

They eyed his wand warily, wise to the ways of wizardkind and the sheer destruction one could bring with that small stick of theirs.

Still, his young age seemed to embolden them, as they formed a half circle around him; a shieldless rudimentary phalanx, which served no purpose given their particular battlefield.

Yes, walls of men…mer are a bad idea when the enemy could attack from literally any direction.

One of them, a youth if Magnus wasn't mistaken, had taken to stabbing way too close to his face than was strictly polite.

So he replied in kind, erecting an invisible shield to his would-be captor's anguish.

'That's right buddy, a kid could bring peace and civilization to your people if he felt like it.' 

He'd threaten them with democracy, but it wasn't really working out on the surface world, too much paperwork.

In any case, he should probably get going. He saw two of them breaking formation, moving to corner him.

So he did the one thing he could think of at that particular moment.

'Aguamenti.' He stabbed his wand in front of him, and pushed as much magic as he could afford.

The result was a torrent of pressured water hitting some unlucky mermen right in the face, further enraging them and giving nightmarish visions to Peta's upper management.

Newton's third law did the rest.

For every action, an opposite reaction; that saw him propelled away from those rather unsightly, doubtlessly unfriendly fellows into the direction of the most fortunate Triwizard champion.

Indeed, it had not been more than thirty minutes since the first task began and Fleur entered the watery depths of the Black Lake.

With the power of eco-friendly jet propulsion, it would take them at most twenty minutes to reunite, less if she could sense him despite the elemental weakness weighing her down.

Fortunately, he did not cross the other champions, grindylows or god forbid, that friendly yet terrifying giant squid.

Explaining how he escaped would be a giant pain in the arse, given the impossibility of speech at the time.

'She's getting closer.' He thought, and frankly her pace was very much underwhelming.

Magnus knew being a Veela made it much harder, but there should be ways to counter it, loopholes she could exploit to make her task easier or at least manageable.

He did not for a single second consider her emotional distress, why would he? He had already taken care of it.

Gabrielle was safe and sound, enjoying one of the most boring spectacles ever created.

He only hoped she wouldn't be stopped by Grindilows, this time around. Saving people was better left to one Harry Potter, thank you very much.

Time passed slowly, the thrill of quite literally shooting through the water faded some time ago leaving him with minimal adrenaline to face the freezing cold waters.

Second turned into minutes, and at long last the vague sense of magic and fire became stronger, in the distance he could see a flash of silver.

Before he realized a wide grin appeared on his face, he was already picturing the face she would make upon seeing him. The smiles and relief and joy at another victory, him being the cause of it was just the icing on the cake.

Yes, that would make it all worth it.

Magnus doubled down on his water making charm, making the propulsion that much stronger. And soon, he was within range.

The widening of her eyes, the flash of happiness and surprise were somehow even more beautiful than he imagined.

What he didn't imagine however, were the scale-like feathers growing on her neck and face, the glint in her nails…no, her claws. And the two small protrusions pushing on the back of her clothes.

It was the first time he saw her other form, even if the transformation was nowhere near complete, Fleur had never been so upset as to lose control of herself.

Not when those buffoons were eyeing her like a piece of meat, not when the inbred bastards with delusions of grandeur mocked the very idea of a Veela being selected as champion.

Even the stinging words and rumors launched by pitiful girls, he now knew that she had called friend in her youth, none of it was enough to wake the beast within.

Yet here she was, half transformed and desperately swimming up to him, her nature struggling against the cold waters of the lake.

She had shed all pretenses, let go of her utter loathing of the avian form, rejected the basest instincts that told her to leave this accursed place; her elemental opposite.

All of this just to get to him.

It was beautiful.

He wanted to tell her, to let go of the breathing charm and tell her how splendid she was, regardless of the lack of air or the absence of words that could do her justice.

But most of all, he was tired of waiting.

. . .

Sirius POV:

Sirius Black was worried.

There, it has been said, now blow the horns and call the cavalry for thy day of reckoning hath cometh; the most irresponsible, wild wizarding bachelor in the isles and beyond was worried about something greater than the next party, the use of proper charms or the end of happy hour.

Now that he thought about it, it was a wonder he didn't sire more children.

More surprisingly, his current worries had little to do with his progeny, no the opposite was true more often than not; it was Magnus who kept worrying about him, he did save his hide in the most ridiculously anticlimactic way possible.

No grand evasion out of Azkaban, no battle against a thousand dementors and months spent tracking the rat, and thank merlin for that, no unbearably long time spent as a fugitive.

No, his kid was not a Gryffindor, and that was probably for the best; see where that got him…and poor James and Lily.

What was worrying him though, was the action of a certain slimy snake with a well documented love for haircare potions and little boys; Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.

The sources of most of the gold being passed around the Wizengamot, and one of Cornelius Fudge's staunchest supporters.

His latest stunt was rather unnerving to be exact, and the way he learned of it was even more troublesome.

He held the letter, elegantly written and sent through a rented owl; she had tried to call Kreacher but he would not answer her.

"Good master Magnus forbids it." He said, when Sirius asked him about it.

That was for the better, turncoat or not, he didn't want Narcisa Malfoy having access to his elf and home, that simply wouldn't do.

Yes, turncoat, who would have thought that his dear cousin Cissy would ever turn her back on someone? Huh.

She had sent him a nice little letter, as a token of goodwill if his grooming as house heir was good for anything at all, in it she informed him of her bastard husband's latest endeavor.

Lucius somehow got the rights to exploit the Triwizard tournament and turn that insanely dangerous school competition into an insanely dangerous school competition with visitors paying good money to see literal children risking their lives for a thousand coins.

Not to mention the various stalls, betting pools and odd businesses allowed inside for the duration of the tasks; nearly all of them malfoy sponsored, obviously.

That was bad, very bad.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it, the tournament was a ministry regulated event and Dumbledore in his infinite wisdom had already signed all the authorization they needed.

If Fudge wanted to, he could set up a strip club within the school grounds as long as it was for tournament purposes.

The good minister's approval had nothing to do with Mr Malfoy's newest generous donation for his future campaign, which didn't at all help build a new summer house in the tropics.

That would be unlawful defamation of their government's highest and most honored contributors.

Now he had to deal with this shitstorm, and he knew just the way.

'Little Lucy really should have thought about putting an upper limit to the betting pool.' Sirius couldn't help but cackle.

It was really nice, having a cutthroat battleax for a son who happened to enjoy the company of one of the champions.

Almost as nice as the thousands of gallons he'd put on her victory, with the greatest odds possible as she was not only a lowly creature but also one that was universally weakened by water.

Sirius felt like a modern Robin Hood, taking from the rich to give back to the…well, to the rich, but the good kind of rich!

"Still, what to do with that wayward cousin of mine?"

Author Note:

Hey Guys! It's Uncle Sheo!

Sorry for the delay, you know how it is, life never lets you get a breather. In any case, you can expect way more chapters after June 20th. I'll be done with my finals by then and will quite literally have nothing else to do but write.

Floods notwithstanding.

This Chapter was much longer, and much more dense than usual. It should become a norm, with how small my usual chapters tend to feel.

Don't hesitate to give some feedback, or get up that weekly smash count. It helps a lot more than you think.

Word Count: 4600 words