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78.91% Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian / Chapter 247: Chapter 247: "Waltzing Through Secrets"

Chapitre 247: Chapter 247: "Waltzing Through Secrets"

As the final notes of the opening dance faded, the Great Hall erupted into a whirlwind of excitement. Couples flooded the dance floor, the Weird Sisters launched into a more spirited tune, and the air crackled with laughter and anticipation. Harry, with Fleur's hand still comfortably nestled in his, navigated through the sea of dancers towards a group of his friends.

"Harry, you sly dog!" Roger exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "You've been holding out on us!"

Roger's date, one of Fleur's Beauxbatons classmates, couldn't contain her curiosity. "Fleur, ma chérie, 'ow did zis come about?" she asked, her accent thicker than Fleur's.

Cedric, standing with Cho, grinned broadly. "I have to hand it to you, Harry. You certainly know how to surprise us. Always with the unexpected, aren't you?"

Harry, feeling more at ease than he'd anticipated, responded with a casual shrug. "What can I say? That's my life. It's full of surprises."

Fleur, the epitome of grace, offered a charming smile to the group. "I 'ope you don't mind me stealing your friend for ze evening," she said, her accent more pronounced in the presence of others. "It seemed a shame for such a talented dancer to attend alone."

Elvinia, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how exactly did this... arrangement come about?"

Harry and Fleur exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between them. "We're just friends," Harry explained, his tone light but firm. "Seeing me so frustrated and unable to choose a date for the ball, Fleur kindly offered to be my partner. And I accepted. You know, for inter-school cooperation and all that."

"Oui," Fleur nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "It seemed like an excellent way to foster unity between our schools. After all, isn't zat what ze tournament is about?"

Harry and Fleur had decided to keep their friendship and meetings a secret for now. With both of them being champions of their respective schools, they did not want to complicate things by bringing the competition into their relationship. That would attract unnecessary attention and trouble.

Arabella, not entirely convinced, countered, "Right. Because that's the first thing that comes to mind when choosing a date for the Yule Ball. Inter-school cooperation."

Fleur, unruffled, maintained her composure. "Well, I also did not 'ave many options. And only 'Arry seems to be able to 'old 'is own when talking to me. So my choice was 'im or coming alone."

Harry nodded, adding with a touch of humor, "Also, you know me. Always there to lend a helping hand, even if it means facing certain death on the dance floor."

The next song saved Harry from further interrogations. As people rejoined the dance floor, Harry took the opportunity to observe his surroundings. He saw his friends happily dancing with their partners. 

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were attempting a rather comical version of the foxtrot, while Hagrid and Madam Maxime swayed gently, towering over the other dancers.

The golden trio presented an interesting tableau: Charles twirled Ginny with surprising grace, while Hermione laughed at something Krum had said. The only sour note was Ron, scowling at his empty punch glass while his date, Lavender, had long since abandoned him to dance with Seamus.

Throughout the evening, Harry and Fleur maintained a friendly but not overly intimate demeanor in public. They danced together frequently, their movements in perfect sync, but also made sure to mingle with others. Harry shared a dance with Susan, while Fleur graciously accepted a dance with a nervous Neville, who managed not to step on her toes.

As the night wore on, Fleur leaned in close to Harry, her breath tickling his ear. "'Arry, perhaps we could step outside for a moment? It's rather warm in 'ere, don't you think?"

Understanding her intent, Harry nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. They slipped out of the Great Hall discreetly, making their way to a secluded corner of the castle's rose garden. The night air was crisp and invigorating, a welcome relief from the warmth of the ball. Fairy lights twinkled among the bushes, casting a soft, magical glow over the scene.

As they walked, their hands intertwined naturally, fingers lacing together as if they'd done this a hundred times before. A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant strains of music from the castle and the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet. They continued until they were sure they were alone, the sounds of the ball fading to a distant murmur.

Finally, Fleur spoke, her voice soft and filled with wonder. "This night... it 'as been magical, non? Like something out of a fairy tale."

Harry nodded, turning to face her. His green eyes met her blue ones, and he felt a warmth spreading through his chest. "It really has been incredible. Fleur, I... I want you to know how much I've enjoyed these past few days. Getting to know you, learning to dance... it's been more than I ever expected."

Fleur's eyes softened, her free hand reaching up to gently cup Harry's cheek. "For me as well, 'Arry. You are... quite different from what I expected. So much more."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The fairy lights dimmed, the distant music faded, and all that existed was the two of them. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they leaned towards each other. Their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, gentle and full of promise.

As they parted, both slightly breathless, Harry couldn't help but grin. "Well, that's certainly one way to foster international magical cooperation," he quipped, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Fleur laughed, the sound like silver bells in the quiet garden. "Indeed," she replied, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Though perhaps we should keep this particular method to ourselves, non?"

Their moment of shared laughter was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. They quickly stepped apart, trying to appear casual, though their flushed cheeks and bright eyes might have given them away. To Harry's surprise, it was Sirius who rounded the corner, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Well, well, well," Sirius said, his eyes twinkling with unbridled mischief. "What do we have here? A secret rendezvous in the garden? The godfather is proud, though perhaps a bit concerned about the timing."

Harry felt his face flush even deeper. "Sirius! What are you doing here in Hogwarts? Shouldn't you be with Amelia?"

Sirius's grin widened. "She's here too, pup. We couldn't miss out on this grand occasion, so we joined the Auror delegation for 'protection'. You would have noticed had you not been so... preoccupied."

Fleur, ever graceful even in unexpected situations, offered Sirius a charming smile. "Mr. Black, I presume? 'Arry 'as told me much about you. All good things, I assure you."

Sirius bowed with exaggerated formality, nearly toppling over in the process. "All good things? Well, we can't have that. I have a reputation to maintain, you know. Though knowing my godson, he's probably warned you about my devilishly handsome looks and irresistible charm."

Harry groaned, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. "Sirius, please. You're embarrassing me in front of my date."

His godfather laughed, a bark-like sound that echoed in the quiet garden. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. I was rooting for you two ever since that duel in the under-17 dueling championship. Saw the spark, I did. It was only a matter of time."

As Sirius turned to leave, he winked at them, his expression softening for a moment. "Oh, and excellent choice of hiding spot. I used this very same corner back in my day. The rosebushes are excellent for quick escapes. Just... be careful, you two. The tournament's not over yet."

With that parting advice, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving Harry and Fleur alone once more.

Harry turned to Fleur, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm so sorry about that. Sirius can be a bit... much. He means well, though."

Fleur smiled, taking Harry's hand once more. "Do not apologize, 'Arry. 'E seems wonderful. You are lucky to 'ave someone who cares for you so much. And 'e is right, we should be careful."

Harry nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "You're right. But... that doesn't mean we can't find moments like this, does it?"

Fleur's smile widened. "Non, it does not. We will just 'ave to be... creative."

With a shared look of understanding and anticipation, they returned to the ball separately, rejoining their respective friend groups as if nothing had happened. But as the night wore on, Harry found himself repeatedly glancing at Fleur across the room, marveling at how events had unfolded. What had started as a simple dance lesson had blossomed into something more, a secret connection that added an element of excitement to the tournament.

The clock struck midnight, signaling the end of the ball. As students began to file out of the Great Hall, many looking tired but happy, Harry and Fleur shared one last dance, maintaining a friendly distance for the benefit of onlookers.

"Thank you for tonight, 'Arry," Fleur murmured as the dance ended. "It was... parfait."

Harry smiled, stepping back as the song concluded. "Thank you, Fleur. For everything."

They parted ways in the entrance hall, each returning to their respective dormitories with their schoolmates. To all outward appearances, their Yule Ball date had been a one-time occurrence, a brief moment of inter-school unity. But as Harry crawled into bed that night, his mind swirling with memories of silver-blonde hair and soft lips, he knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.


Chapitre 248: Chapter 248: "The Potter Manor"

In the wake of the Yule Ball, Hogwarts buzzed with excitement and speculation. Harry Potter, no stranger to being the center of attention, found himself once again under the microscope of public scrutiny. As he navigated the ancient corridors, whispers and not-so-subtle glances dogged his every step, snippets of conversations reaching his ears:

"Did you see them dancing? They looked so perfect together!"

"I heard it was just a one-time thing. You know, for the tournament and all."

"But the way they looked at each other... There's definitely more to this story."

With the practiced ease of one long accustomed to being in the spotlight, Harry maintained an air of nonchalance. He neither confirmed nor denied the swirling rumors, his face a mask of mild amusement.

When cornered, he'd simply shrug and say, "Fleur and I are friends. It seemed like a good idea for inter-school cooperation." The words felt hollow on his tongue, a pale shadow of the warmth and connection he'd experienced during those magical moments with Fleur.

Fleur, for her part, proved equally adept at deflecting curiosity. She glided through the castle with her usual grace, treating Harry with the same polite friendliness she showed all the champions. To the casual observer, their Yule Ball partnership appeared nothing more than a diplomatic gesture, a fleeting moment of unity in a competition designed to divide.

Harry and Fleur had agreed to keep their relationship casual in public while meeting in private, just as they had during their secret dance lessons. This arrangement, while frustrating, aligned with Harry's broader plans. He knew that if he allowed himself to be constantly in Fleur's radiant presence, the temptation to set aside his other responsibilities would be overwhelming.

One such plan, long postponed, now called to him with an urgency he could no longer ignore: visiting the Potter Manor. Months had passed since he'd become Lord Potter, gaining access to his family's properties and legacies. Yet, for reasons both practical and emotional, he had delayed this pilgrimage to his ancestral home. Now, with the Yule Ball behind him and a rare moment of relative calm, Harry seized the opportunity.

Slipping away from his well-meaning but persistent admirers, Harry made his way to Hogsmeade. With a final glance at the towering spires of Hogwarts, he turned on the spot, disapparating with a soft 'pop' that seemed to echo in the crisp winter air.

---

The world compressed and stretched, before resolving into a new scene. Potter Manor loomed before him, though at first glance, one would never know it. Powerful wards, the work of generations of skilled witches and wizards, concealed the true nature of the property. To uninitiated eyes, all that was visible were imposing wrought-iron gates, standing sentinel before what appeared to be a wild, untamed jungle.

With a deep breath, Harry pressed the Potter lordship ring to the gate's center. The illusion melted away like morning mist, revealing sprawling grounds surrounding a stately manor. To eyes accustomed to the Black Castle's grandeur, Potter Manor seemed almost quaint, yet it exuded a warmth that the Black residence lacked.

As Harry stepped through the gates, a rush of familiarity washed over him like a warm summer breeze. Long-buried memories stirred, fragments of a childhood half-forgotten struggling to surface. "Are you ready, Mira?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle pop that seemed to echo in the stillness, Mira appeared, her large eyes glistening with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. "Mira is ready, Master Harry," she said, her voice quavering slightly. "It has been many years since we've been here together."

Harry nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "A lifetime ago, it feels like."

As they approached the manor, each step seemed to peel away the years. Suddenly, Harry wasn't a battle-hardened teenager anymore, but a small child, racing up these very steps, his laughter echoing across the grounds as he rushed to spend time with his grandparents while his parents were away on Order business.

The grand foyer's scent hit him like a physical force - cinnamon, old books, and something uniquely 'home' that he couldn't quite name. For a heartbeat, he could almost see his grandfather, Fleamont, striding across the room, arms outstretched for a hug.

Harry's eyes misted, the weight of happy memories pressing on his heart. Mira, sensing his emotion, gently took his hand in her small one, offering silent comfort.

In the sitting room, Harry's gaze locked onto a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. Muscle memory took over as he curled up in it. "This was Grandma Euphemia's chair," he murmured. "She'd read to me here. Beedle the Bard, stories about James as a boy..."

Mira smiled, her own memories surfacing. "Mistress Euphemia had the best stories. She always said family history was the most important magic of all."

Each room brought fresh waves of recollection. The kitchen, where the ghost of laughter lingered as he remembered helping his grandmother bake, standing on a stool to reach the counter, flour dusting his nose. The study, where his grandfather had imparted life lessons through cleverly disguised stories, his eyes twinkling with wisdom and mischief in equal measure.

The absence of moving portraits struck Harry anew, the silent walls a testament to the Potter family's philosophy. Honoring the lesson of the third Peverell brother, they eschewed magical portraits, believing they trapped a part of the soul. While Harry respected this tradition, a part of him longed for the chance to speak with his ancestors, to garner wisdom from their experiences beyond what was written in books.

Finally, Harry reached his true destination - the library. Here too, memories flooded back. His grandmother's voice seemed to echo: "Knowledge is power, Harry, but wisdom is knowing how to use it." He ran his fingers along book spines, remembering hours spent listening to his grandparents read and recount family lore.

At the library's heart, protected by formidable wards that yielded to Harry's touch like a flower opening to the sun, lay a hidden compartment. From it, he reverently withdrew the object of his quest: The Potter Grimoire.

As he held the ancient tome, its leather warm and alive under his fingers, Harry felt a profound connection not just to his grandparents, but to generations of Potters stretching back through time. It was as if all those who had come before were standing with him, their collective knowledge and strength flowing into him through this book.

The temptation to delve into the grimoire's pages right then was almost overwhelming, but Harry knew he couldn't risk losing track of time and having his absence from Hogwarts noticed. Reluctantly, he tucked the precious book into his bag.

Harry's gaze lingered on the library's shelves, each book a repository of knowledge waiting to be explored. A part of him longed to stay, to lose himself in the wisdom of his ancestors. But he knew that now was not the time. There were more pressing matters to attend to - enemies to face, a dark future to prevent. The books would wait; the world, perhaps, would not.

As he walked back through the gates, Harry turned for a final look at Potter Manor, bathed in the soft light of dusk. "I'll be back," he promised quietly, his voice carrying the weight of both nostalgia and determination.

With the grimoire safely in his possession and his heart full of bittersweet memories, Harry prepared to return to Hogwarts. As he disapparated, the last thing he saw was Potter Manor fading from view, its windows gleaming like eyes watching over him, a silent guardian of the past and a beacon for the future.


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