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Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate

The Desolations of Destiny

XXIX. The Yule Ball

Glowing green fields stretched before a setting sun. Harry watched as a myriad of colors coated the ocean's surface just a few hundred feet from where he sat.

It's so beautiful.

The raven-haired boy closed his eyes with delight.

Christmas Eve in France sat in stark contrast to one back home. There was no snow, no cold breeze, and not even a hint of rain. Instead, Harry instead found himself surrounded by a sort of warmth Great Britain rarely saw even during the summer.

"Someone's in good spirits."

Harry's eyes slid open. At his side sat a girl adorned in the light blue robes of Beauxbatons. She fiddled with a small bronze coin, tossing it back and forth between her palms. Harry laughed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Cerise shrugged.

"It isn't," she nodded, "Just a bit surprising, given what happened."

Their eyes flicked to a French tabloid that lay in the grass some ways away. Harry could still make out the image that covered it.

Gabby and I kissing at the Gala. Her mum's in the background, too.

Harry thought in silence for a few moments before eventually shrugging.

"Gabby's happy with it," he noted, "And if she's happy, then I am, too."

He heard a pair of faint snickering from somewhere behind him. Harry tuned the Toussaint twins out, not bothering to turn around. He watched instead as Cerise summoned the tabloid with a wave of her wand, her lips pursed.

"I suppose that makes sense," she nodded, "Not that Lady Delacour looks particularly happy about it."

"She doesn't, does she?" Harry sighed. He eyed the photo again, "I wish I'd gotten to actually talk to her."

"You managed to duck my parents, too," Cerise sniffled, "You know, I can't help but feel like you're pretty good at avoiding meeting families."

"Probably. Come to think of it, I barely talked to Daphne's parents -"

"Daphne?"

Harry paused.

"A good friend from Hogwarts."

I should probably talk to her.

Cerise nodded slowly. Harry tossed the tabloid aside, straightening up.

"But, for what it's worth, I did meet someof your family," he said eventually, "That Belle girl's quite the character."

"Belle?" the Rosier girl repeated, sounding exasperated, "I can't imagine what that must've been like. Merlin knows I wouldn't be pleased with having to deal with her for any longer than a few moments."

Harry snorted.

"Honestly, she wasn't that bad," he assured her, "Just a bit loud."

He thought for a moment.

"How's she related to you, anyway?"

"Cousin," Cerise muttered, "Her mum sends her over from Germany from time to time."

"She does?" Harry asked curiously, "Why?"

Cerise frowned.

"Truthfully, it's likely she's trying to endear Belle to my mother," the girl said thoughtfully, "Not that it's working. I've never seen mother so irritable around anyone else -"

"And her mum?" Harry interrupted, "Belle's, I mean?"

"What about her?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well, what's she like?"

The Rosier girl stared at him.

"No idea. I've never met her."

Oh.

"Makes a bit more sense now, doesn't it?" Cerise sighed, "From what I've gathered, my grandmother was only really interested in continuing our line through my mother, the eldest daughter. Everyone else was practically erased from history. It was as if they didn't exist."

The girl ended in a festering silence. Harry broke it after a long, tense moment.

"Your grandmother," he began, "You mean Vinda Rosier, don't you?"

"I do," Cerise nodded. She seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable, "I don't know much about her, if that's where you're going with this -"

"I - no," Harry shook his head vehemently, "We're not our families. Whatever she did, good or bad - it doesn't change a thing about how I see you."

Cerise smiled earnestly.

"It's getting late," a loud, cool voice called from behind them. Harry turned to find Adeline Bardot straightening up, the Toussaint twins standing behind her, "We should probably get going."

Helene, Aurore, and Oliver all slowly rose to their feet. Harry and Cerise nodded, following the group over the hill and back toward the magical door bridging them to Beauxbatons.

"Time to get ready for the Yule Ball," Cerise smiled as they walked.

"Second in what, a week?" Aurore muttered, "It's like being overworked in the best way possible."

"Speak for yourself," Helene sighed, "I've only got one gorgeous dress, not two . . ."

"You can borrow one of mine," Bardot offered, "So long as it's a dress my mother doesn't know about, anyway."

"What, is she not fond of borrowing amongst friends?" Sylvain yawned. Bardot glared at him.

"Stop bothering me about things you already know."

Harry watched as the taller of the twins held his hands up in faux surrender.

"My bad," he said lazily, "Just keeping the conversation flowing . . ."

And he turned away, skipping to catch up with his brother. Harry turned to the others.

"So . . . what do you know about the Yule Ball?"

"Not much," Helene murmured, "It's supposed to be a dance honoring the champions, though, so I imagine you'll have a part to play."

Harry nodded, turning to Cerise. He stared at her expectantly.

"You're meant to kick off the Ball," she explained simply, "The Champions are always the first dance."

Of course we are.

"But aside from that, it's just a dance, right?" Harry inquired nervously.

"Mhmm," Cerise nodded, "A formal one, but I doubt that'll be heavily enforced. I can't imagine you'll find it any more stressful than my family gala."

"Okay," Harry said eventually, "Alright. That's pretty doable."

Tall green grass was replaced by messily strewn cobblestone. The group traversed the small wizarding village along the outskirts of Cannes. A glowing stone archway appeared within little more than minutes, casting a dull blue glow over the nearby students. Harry instinctively threw his hood over his head as they approached.

No need to be hassled.

"The ball's just for students, right?" he heard Aurore ask. The girl was eyeing some of the students that stood in line before them.

"No," Bardot yawned, "They'll be a few important ministry officials, too."

Harry's curiosity peaked.

"Who?"

The girl shrugged.

"Either the Minister or the Lady of the Land, that's for sure," she yawned, "They always turn up at events like these."

"Lady of the Land," Harry repeated, frowning, "That's -"

"Gabrielle's mother, yes," Adeline Bardot nodded. Her lips quirked upwards, "I suppose you just might meet her after all."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"What about yours?" he asked, turning to Cerise, "I'm not likely to run into Belle again, am I?"

"Absolutely not," Cerise laughed, "I'd be surprised if mother hasn't sent her back to Germany by now."

Harry laughed. Oliver shifted in the corner of his eye. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken.

"And you?" he asked carefully, "I'd love to run into your grandfather again."

To Harry's disappointment, the boy hastily shook his head.

"Busy," Oliver said simply, "He's got a meeting in the Ministry, I think."

Cerise nodded.

"In the Hall of Enigmas, right?"

Oliver paused.

"Er - I think so," he frowned, "How'd you know?"

Cerise stared at him, a brow raised. Oliver smiled sheepishly.

"Right. Nevermind."

Harry stared between the two. Likely having noticed his confusion, Cerise turned to him.

"My family's quite influential," she explained simply, "My father's involved in the same meeting. He told me about it during Yule."

Oh.

"Not much of a chance of meeting anyone interesting tonight, is there?" Harry sighed.

"Probably not," Cerise laughed, "I imagine you and Gabrielle won't have much competition for the front page."

Harry scowled as the others laughed, following them through the glistening door that led back to Beauxbatons.

-(xXx)-

Bang.

Harry threw the door to the Hogwarts Express open, yawning loudly. An almost irritable sensation fell over him.

I'm really not in the mood for another ball.

"It's Christmas Eve," Harry muttered to himself, spinning around to close the door shut, "I want presents, not problems -"

"You won't be very pleased with me, then."

Harry's jaw clenched. He let the train door click shut before walking along the edge of the common room, pulling a few biscuits from a platter atop the central table. His expression remained blank as he fell into an armchair by the mantle.

"If this is your idea of an apology, it's a rather poor one," Harry whispered, popping a biscuit into his mouth. He chewed it moodily, "Or are you playing another game today?"

Luna Lovegood observed him from an armchair of her own, her pale skin pasty and her eyes bloodshot. She looked as though she hadn't slept in several nights.

"I'm not playing any games," the girl murmured, "Just trying to help -"

"By not telling me what's going on?"

Luna stared at him. After a long moment, she frowned.

"Why bother? Telling you will only make things worse. I know that already."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Right," he nodded, "Because of your dreams."

"Because of my dreams," Luna hummed in agreement.

A sliver of frustration slid through his skull. Harry forced himself to stare into the fire beneath the mantle. His palms felt hot and prickly.

"Tell me about them," Harry whispered, "What do you see?"

Luna observed him silently.

"A great many things," she said eventually, "Much of it makes little sense to me. The only things I really understand relate to you."

Harry's jaw clenched.

"Like what?" he inquired, leaning closer.

"Like what I told you about the diary," the girl muttered, "If you returned it to Lady Voldemort, you would live to regret it."

Voldemort.

"You know she's alive, then," Harry frowned. He watched as Luna shrugged.

"It wasn't all that difficult to piece together, even without my dreams. You never really bothered to hide it."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Right," he sighed, "Well, I didn't give her the diary. I'm assuming that means that problem's taken care of, doesn't it?"

The blonde girl shrugged.

"No idea," she whispered dreamily, "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know."

Harry felt his frustration mount.

"The diary's with me. It's safe -"

"I don't think both of those things can be simultaneously true, Harry Potter," Luna hummed, "You and her seem awfully close."

"Her? Who?"

"Voldemort. Emily. Whatever you call her."

Harry felt his heart stop beating. He absentmindedly pulled his wand from the insides of his robes, coating the common room with privacy wards. His stomach lurched.

"I - I haven't had much to do with her in a long time, Luna."

Luna stared at him.

"That hardly matters," she whispered, "I think the world has been pushing you two closer for far longer than you could possibly imagine."

Far longer than you could possibly imagine . . .

Harry shook his head.

"So what? You want me to give you the diary?"

Luna shook her head.

"Not really, no," she said. She adorned a thoughtful expression, "I'm not really cut out for it."

"And I'm not, either."

"No," Luna agreed, "You aren't. It messes with your head, I think."

A stiff silence fell upon them. Harry watched as Luna's fingers pattered alongside the edge of her armchair, a question on the tip of her tongue.

"What is it?"

The girl paused.

"I heard someone say something about you," she revealed eventually, "In a dream I had last night."

"And?"

Luna huffed.

"It makes me wonder why you care so much about saving Astoria to begin with."

Harry stared at her in disbelief.

"You - what?"

She can't be serious.

"Does that sound harsh?" Luna pursed her lips obliviously, "I didn't mean it to. I mean to say you've got morein it than someone like me. There's more to it than just losing someone you care about."

Harry watched as the blonde-haired girl straightened up in her seat, humming to herself.

"Beautiful, really. People are so - so complicated. People like you."

Bewilderment and confusion mixed within his chest. He stared at Luna.

"I - do you think I don't want to save her?"

"I never said that," Luna frowned, "But I don't think you care about her as much as myself or Daphne, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry repeated hotly. Something ugly prickled beneath his skin, "Obviously-"

"I do believe you want to save her more than I do, though," Luna whispered. Harry sputtered, "Interesting, isn't that?"

Interesting?

Harry sat up.

"What do you want?" he hissed at Luna, who frowned, "What were you planning on telling me when you saw me?"

The girl stared at him with her trademark vague expression.

"Just a warning," she murmured, "Trust in fate. If you don't, your fears will become manifest."

"Trust in fate," Harry repeated again. He stared at the girl, "Luna, what did you see?"

"I'm not sure," the girl frowned, "I told you, I'm not sure I understand. I just caught the drift."

She slowly rose to her feet, gracing Harry with a gentle, dreamy smile.

"You'd really better remember what I said," she told him, "I imagine you'll be tested sooner rather than later."

Her eyes were unbearably wide. Harry felt himself sink into their depths. A wide ball room stretched before him -

What?

Harry blinked. He watched as Luna turned around.

"Tested?" Harry sputtered, "Luna? Luna -"

But the girl wandered off, hopping out through the train door and out of sight.

-(xXx)-

"Become manifest?" Gabrielle repeated, frowning.

"That's what she said," Harry nodded, "Trust in fate or your fears will become manifest."

It was evening now. Little more than an hour separated the pair from the upcoming Yule Ball, yet they still sat with their bodies pressed together, each adorned in their normal hoodies alongside troubled expressions. Harry grimaced as Gabrielle moved her legs from their place atop his lap, her fingers interlocking with his own.

"That Lovegood girl - does she have dreams like this often?"

Harry shrugged.

"It only started a few months ago," he muttered, "Nothing more than a few flashes and glimpses."

To his right, Gabrielle frowned.

"What about last time? When she told me about your diary?"

"That was the first real thing she saw," Harry told her. He sighed, "I suppose this is the second."

"Second what - dream? Proper vision?"

Harry shook his head.

"I don't think so," he muttered, "From the way she was talking, I'd say gist. The second time she really understood the meaning of whatever it was she saw."

He watched as his - his girlfriend- nodded slowly.

"We should probably look into this seer stuff," she murmured, "I don't know much about them. It'll help with understanding her in the future at the very least."

"Probably," Harry agreed, "Not that I imagine that'd be particularly easy."

"You could ask the Scarlet Prophets," Gabby suggested, "I'm sure they'd -"

"No," Harry scowled, "No, I won't. You saw how helpful they were last time."

"I did," Gabrielle nodded, tucking a braided strand of silver hair behind her ear. It disappeared beneath her black hood, "But there isn't much harm in asking, is there? Who knows? They might find it interesting."

"Given how helpful they were last time, that'd only make me want to ask them less," Harry whispered.

They were less than useless.

"Just a thought," Gabrielle sighed, "It's not immediately important, anyway."

"Right. Trust in fate lest your fears manifest."

Fears manifest . . .

"What do you fear, anyway?" Gabrielle frowned, "You don't seem the type to scare easily."

"I don't think I am," Harry muttered, "I dunno . . . maybe . . . maybe -"

A hollow feeling built in his chest.

"Losing you," he guessed aloud, "Or Nott, Cerise, Daphne, or Astoria. Oliver too, probably."

"People you care about, then," Gabrielle surmised.

"Hurting anyone, really. So long as they don't deserve it."

A slight frown marred Gabrielle's features.

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

Harry grimaced.

"Nothing I can think of."

The silver-haired girl cursed.

"That's . . . unnerving," she admitted, taking a deep breath, "Is there anything else important. Anything you've forgotten, anything missing?"

Harry's brows furrowed with focus.

Fears . . . fate . . . soon -

"She said I'd be tested fairly soon," he added loudly, having just remembered, "Sooner rather than later -"

"How soon?"

Harry shrugged.

"Don't know. She didn't say."

Gabrielle pursed her lips.

"If something were to happen, I'd imagine it'd take place during an event," she thought aloud. Harry straightened up, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Like the Yule Ball?"

"Or the Second Task," Gabrielle frowned, "But yes, I suppose that would work, too."

Harry felt as though he were going to be sick. Fists clenched, he pushed off from his bed and began pacing across the room.

"It's tonight," he whispered, "Whatever's happening, it's happening tonight."

Gabrielle smiled faintly.

"You don't know that, Harry -"

"I do, actually. I saw a ball room when I accidentally peeked into Luna's mind."

The colour drained from Gabrielle's face.

"You didn't mention that," she whispered.

"I wasn't thinking straight," Harry swore, "I - I - fuck!"

Something's happening today. Something that, should I interfere, will cost me greatly in the end.

The black-haired boy shifted, fiddling nervously with the baby-blue hem of his muggle hoodie.

"It's the way she was talking that's getting to me," muttered Harry, ducking over, "She made it sound like she knew I'd interfere -"

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

Harry stared at Gabrielle incredulously.

"Fears manifest," he said aloud, "Fears manifest. That sounds pretty bad to me, Gabby -"

"I don't disagree," she assured him, "But what if what you fear is ultimately a better outcome than what you'd get by not acting?"

Harry froze.

"What do you mean?"

He watched as Gabrielle shuffled off his bed, rising to her feet.

"Say Rosier's in harm's way," she envisioned aloud, "You can save her by interfering, but it'd result in someone else being harmed instead. Wouldn't you do it?"

Harry sputtered.

"Gabby, that's - that's -"

Gabrielle gave him a pointed look. Harry paused.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would."

Without a second thought.

"Then maybe acting isn't out of the question," Gabby suggested, "I suppose we'll find out soon enough, regardless . . ."

The girl's voice trailed off as she turned around, pulling off Harry's black hoodie. She fiddled with something wrapped around her neck. Harry watched as she turned around, offering the object to him.

"Here," she said gently, placing the medallion in her palm, "Just in case -"

"What?" Harry hissed, "No, absolutely not -"

He tried shoving the medallion back into Gabrielle's hands to no avail. Harry gritted his teeth.

"Gabby, knock it off."

"No."

"I'm being serious -"

"So am I," Gabrielle snapped, "It's the Yule Ball. My family - the Minister and his wife - will be there tonight. If anything, I'll probably be the safest girl in all of France."

"I don't care," Harry whispered furiously, "Luna's whole speech was about tempting fate. This is the absolute worst possible decision imaginable."

But Gabrielle shook her head.

"Luna said you had a choice," Gabrielle whispered, "You can chooseto act."

She eyed the medallion in his hand.

"With any luck, this'll make your choice a bit easier."

Harry stared at her.

"And if you need to get to safety."

Gabrielle shrugged.

"I'll ask my mother to borrow Fleur or father's medallion when I see her at the ball. She'll have it sent over in minutes."

Harry felt his jaw clench with frustration.

"Fine," he said eventually, "But you're not leaving my side until you've got another."

Gabrielle's brow rose.

"Oh?" she smiled faintly, "I do have to change, you know. For the ball -"

"I don't care."

Gabrielle grinned, her eyes lined with mirth.

"Then neither do I."

-(xXx)-

Large glass doors loomed before him. Harry stepped toward them, unable to mask the nervousness in his expression.

Tonight. It'll be tonight -

"You look uneasy, Harry Potter."

Harry looked up. A beautiful woman adorned in silver silk stepped toward him, her glowing hair and bright eyes shining in an ethereal manner. He watched as her eyes slid between him and something to his side.

"Lady Delacour," Harry said respectfully. He bowed his head.

"Mother," Gabrielle nodded from his side. The taller woman's owl-like eyes flicked to her.

"Gabrielle," Apolline Delacour pursed her lips, "You did not return home to get ready for the ball."

Gabby frowned.

"I misplaced my medallion earlier today," she said simply, "I had to get ready in my dormitory instead."

They watched as Lady Delacour's lips curled with distaste.

"Misplaced your medallion," the woman repeated, "Your one of a kind, hand-crafted by Sir Flamel, medallion -"

"It's hardly one of a kind," Gabrielle scoffed, "I know a half dozen people with the same thing -"

"It was made for you," Lady Delacour snapped. She shook her head, "No matter. I shall send for Fleur's."

Gabrielle frowned at the mention of her sister's name. Harry felt a stab of pity for her.

I wonder if Anaïs told Fleur about our little conversation at the gala.

A pair of brooding gray eyes pulled him from his thoughts. Harry smiled at Apolline Delacour nervously, drawing upon his admittedly rusty Occlumency skills.

"I've been meaning to meet you for some time now," Harry said, holding out a hand, "I'm Harry Potter."

To his slight surprise, Lady Delacour shook it.

"I am Apolline," she said simply, "Gabrielle's mother. I have heard much about you."

"Good things, I hope," Harry smiled.

"You would, wouldn't you?" the lady paused, "Anaïs approves."

To his right, Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"Why in Merlin's name would that matter?"

She shifted uncomfortably as her mother's eyes narrowed.

"Behave," the woman warned. After a quick nod, she turned back to Harry, "My eldest and her partner have informed me of your proficiency with magic. Do you yet know what careers you'd like to pursue?"

"Not exactly," Harry admitted, frowning, "I suppose I wouldn't mind becoming an Auror."

Judging by the slight frown Apolline wore, that wasn't the right answer.

"Perhaps," she nodded slowly, "I've no doubt you'd quickly rise up the ranks -"

"Of course he would," said Gabrielle quickly, "He's an even better duelist than I."

This seemed to catch Lady Delacour's interest.

"Oh?" she said curiously, "Is that so?"

"I - well - I suppose so."

Apolline smiled.

"Not even Fleur could boast such a feat," she noted, sounding intrigued, "Not whilst she was the same age, anyway. She never really had the same proclivities for violence as dear Gabrielle . . ."

She trailled off as a sudden silence surrounded them. Harry glanced around, frowning at the sea of Beauxbatons students. They were all staring at something across the length of the entrance hall.

What the -

Harry squinted. A large, silver stag was floating above the students. It spoke with a woman's voice.

"The Ministry is falling. The Hall of Enigmas has been attacked. The Ministry is falling. The hall of Enigmas has been attacked . . ."

The silvery Patronus faded into nothingness as chaos spread through the room like wildfire.