章 39: Fleur changeante

Harry quickly dispelled the silencing charm, causing a rush of sound to flood back into their awareness—the music, the chatter, and the clinking of glasses from the tables surrounding the dance floor.

Neville gave them a sheepish grin.

"Sorry to interrupt guys, but people were starting to shout, trying to get your attention," his eyes flicked merrily between Harry and Fleur.

Harry felt his cheeks burn as he realised that, in his excitement, he had accidentally left the silencing bubble on far longer than intended.

'Thought to be fair, it worked quite alright in the end,' he mused.

Harry scratched the back of his head, offering Neville an apologetic smile.

"Thanks for bringing us back, Nev. Guess we got a bit carried away," he muttered, his earlier embarrassment now gone.

Fleur let out a soft laugh, her melodic voice drawing a few lustful glances from nearby students.

"We were just… enjoying ze dance, Neville. Merci for reminding us we 'ave an audience," she teased.

Neville grinned, relieved that he hadn't upset them, as he very much enjoyed the couple's company.

After Harry's fallout with Ron, Neville somewhat took his place as Harry's male friend.

It all started with Harry needing immediate help from the local plant lover.

Neville, and the fourth-year Gryffindors, had just finished a herbology class with Professor Sprout, thus his great mood.

Purposefully slowing down his strides so as to fall behind his housemates, Neville started humming a merry melody.

It was just him and nature, as it often was, and he was perfectly content with that.

He was more than content with it.

"Ah, everything's so peaceful," Neville sighed contentedly, breathing in the crisp morning air.

His moment of tranquillity was suddenly interrupted by hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, he saw Harry Potter rushing towards him, a look of urgency on his face.

"Hey Nev, what's up… I know we've not been best of friends, but this is a matter of life and death. Tell me, what's the most beautiful flower I can get at once?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Neville's eyes widened in surprise, and he was about to stammer a reply, but a smile quickly spread across his face as he realised Harry's predicament.

The usually shy boy wanted to burst out laughing as Harry Bloody Potter, the bravest Gryffindor, was panicking about something as simple as giving flowers.

However, he didn't do so and instead tried answering the boy to the best of his ability.

His brow furrowed in concentration as countless plants and flowers flashed through his head.

"How about orchids? They're elegant and come in various colours. I can show you where to find some beautiful specimens in the greenhouse," he offered enthusiastically, happy to help his fellow Gryffindor.

"Aren't orchids, I don't know… Plain," Harry finished meekly, with an unimpressed look on his face.

Neville was about to go down a tirade, explaining to his fellow yearmate that all plants were as important and special, but he again managed to control himself, albeit this time with reluctance.

'Something special...' Neville thought bitterly, trying to think of something more appropriate for Harry.

"Give me something then. I don't even know who you are giving flowers to," Neville asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then sighed and leaned in closer.

"It's for the French champion," he whispered, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"I want to surprise her with something special to show her how much she means to me," Harry continued, his voice filled with sincerity, his eyes misting over with emotion.

Neville's eyes lit up with understanding.

"Ah, that's right! I forgot all about the rumours flying around about you two," he said as understanding dawned on his face.

To Harry's dismay though, Neville's face fell in the next moment.

"While I could give you perfectly good suggestions, I don't think I should," he started off, prompting Harry to gawk at him with a befuddled look.

"Now look here. You don't have to be a dick about-," Harry managed to say with a frown before Neville cut him off.

"No, you dunderhead," he said, and both boys stopped talking, surprised at Neville's words.

After all, 'dunderhead' was Snape's favourite word to call the shy boy…

"Anyhow, it's not that. In my opinion, if you want to get Fleur something truly special, it should come from you. Otherwise, you could get her some enchanted roses. They're not only beautiful but also magical, changing colours to reflect the emotions of the giver. Professor Sprout has been cultivating some in Greenhouse Three so their availability is no problem," Neville finished.

Harry stood, his jaw almost hanging.

"You know what Nev. You're right, I can't believe I didn't think of it like that… Thanks," he said and was about to go off when he remembered something and turned back.

"Do you know any books I could look into?" Harry asked, catapulting Neville into his thoughts.

"You could try 'Enchanting Flora: A Guide to Magical Flowers' by Astro Black. It's in the Herbology section of the library. If you don't find what you are looking for, come find me and I'll have another book ready," he answered after a bit.

Harry nodded gratefully and left.

"Hey, come to think of it. You never told me what plant you got Fleur in the end," Neville asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, I didn't simply get her flowers. I actually created something unique for her. I took inspiration from White Calla Lilies and after an unneeded amount of ****researching magical flora, I managed to enchant the mundane flower with the properties of Ethereosa, ****so ****that it changes colours based on emotions and also emits a soft, melodious hum when in the presence of strong positive feelings. It took some trial and error, but the result was worth it - Fleur was absolutely delighted," Harry explained, knowing that his friend would bombard him for the details on a later date.

Neville listened, impressed by the creativity and ingenuity Harry had shown.

He even felt a prickle of jealousy.

"I named it 'Fleur changeante'… She wasn't very happy to hear that," Harry finished with a shudder.

"Allow me to congratulate you first mate, 'cause that's pretty wicked. Despite all my knowledge about plants, I didn't know you could 'copy' the magical effects of one to another," Neville said with a sincere tone.

"What about the name? It's French, isn't it?" he added as an afterthought.

Before Harry could respond, Fleur chimed in with a radiant smile.

"Ah, oui," she said, rolling her eyes playfully.

"It means 'changing flower' in French. While ze sentiment was sweet, Harry's pronunciation left much to be desired. It sounded more like 'floor chan-jant' zan anything else." She giggled softly, giving Harry an affectionate look.

"But I love it all the same. It's uniquely 'arry."

"Well, at least I tried. If you don't like it, then next time I'll stick to simpler names. How about 'Sulky Flower'? It sounds about right," Harry teased and Fleur gasped in mock outrage, swatting his arm.

"'Arry James Potter! You wouldn't dare," she exclaimed, her accent thickening with emotion and the trio burst into laughter.

"While it's good to see you children enjoying tonight's festivities, they must come to an end," Dumbledore's voice came from behind Neville's back.

Had he sneaked behind Harry instead, the said evening would have probably ended badly.

Sobering up immediately after hearing the headmaster's words, the young couple excused themselves and left the hall.

Harry and Fleur exchanged a glance, their eyes conveying feelings that no mere words could ever hope to express.

"Harry," the girl started saying but was immediately shut up as Harry's lips captured her own.

"I'll be all right. Pinky promise," he murmured after breaking the kiss.

Giving his girlfriend a quick, yet firm hug, Harry turned around and strode towards the second-floor bathroom.

He could have flashed inside but chose not to.

Something about simply walking with one own's thoughts had a calming effect, after all.

As Harry made his way through the castle corridors, his mind drifted to the countless details of the ritual he was about to undertake.

Needless to say, he had meticulously gathered every required material, and everything was in pristine condition—even the carcass of the dreadful dragon...

"It's finally time," he murmured to himself as he approached the entrance to Myrtle's bathroom.

"Open," Harry James Potter, heir of Slytherin, commanded and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets creaked open, revealing as always, the dark, foreboding passageway below.

His emerald eyes glinted off the pipes as he descended, hovering gracefully.

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