Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of You Are the Only Flower of My Life.
If you want to Read Two More Chapter Right Now. Write 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First Link
Chapter 10 (Siriusly Watching), and Chapter 11 (A Veela Bond) are already available for Patrons.
"Minister Delacour, please understand that the tournament has certain traditions-" Cornelius Fudge began but was immediately cut off by Sebastian Delacour's sharp voice.
"Traditions?" Sebastian's eyes flashed dangerously as he stood in Dumbledore's office, his tall frame emanating barely controlled anger. "You speak to me of traditions when you placed my eight-year-old daughter at the bottom of a lake filled with creatures known to be hostile to Veela? Without my permission or my wife's?"
The office was unusually crowded. Apart from Dumbledore behind his desk and Fudge fidgeting with his bowler hat, Mister Crouch, Bagman, and Professor McGonagall stood near the window with a disapproving expression that seemed directed at her own colleagues rather than the French Minister. Snape lurked in the shadows near the door, his face unreadable, while Madame Maxime stood tall and proud near Sebastian, clearly supporting her country's minister.
"The hostages were perfectly safe," Fudge attempted to placate, "Under Professor Dumbledore's enchanted sleep-"
"Safe?" Sebastian's laugh was cold. "My eldest daughter was attacked by Merpeople! If it wasn't for Harry Potter's quick thinking and his... unique abilities, both my daughters could have been seriously injured!" He turned to Dumbledore. "And you, Albus. I respected you. Yet you allowed this tournament to proceed with an underage wizard forced to compete?"
Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes were grave. "The magical contract of the Goblet of Fire-"
"Was created centuries ago when fourteen was considered of age," Sebastian interrupted. "The age line you drew should have prevented this. Instead, we have a fourteen-year-old boy facing dangers that have killed fully trained wizards in the past. And now I discover you used my younger daughter as a pawn without parental consent?"
Mister Crouch stepped forward. "Minister Delacour, I must say I agree with your concerns. The handling of both situations has been... less than ideal."
"Less than ideal?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Mister Crouch, I appreciate your candor, but this goes beyond 'less than ideal.' This is gross negligence." He turned back to Fudge. "Tell me, Cornelius, how would the British magical community react if I had placed an underage British citizen at the bottom of a lake without their parents' knowledge? How would they respond if I had forced a British fourteen-year-old to compete in a deadly tournament?"
Fudge paled slightly. "Now see here, Sebastian-"
"Non, you see here," Sebastian's voice became dangerously quiet. "My daughter Fleur tells me that Harry lives with Muggle relatives. Did you even inform them that their nephew was being forced to compete? Did you seek their permission?"
The uncomfortable silence that followed was answer enough.
"Précisément," Sebastian nodded grimly. "So not only have you endangered an underage wizard, but you've done so without his guardians' consent. And then you endangered my daughter without my consent. This is beginning to look like a pattern, non?"
Madame Maxime spoke up for the first time. "Minister Fudge, surely you see ze political implications? Ze French magical community will not take kindly to learning zeir Minister's daughter was put at risk without permission."
"Are you threatening me, Madame?" Fudge drew himself up indignantly.
"Not at all," Sebastian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I am merely pointing out facts. Facts that will become public knowledge unless significant changes are made to ensure the safety of ALL participants - and I mean ALL, including Harry Potter - in the third task."
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "What exactly are you proposing, Sebastian?"
"First, I want a full safety review of the third task before it takes place. Second, I want a formal apology from both the British Ministry of Magic and the Triwizard Tournament organizers for endangering my younger daughter without consent."
"Now really," Fudge blustered, "A formal apology would suggest wrongdoing-"
"Because there WAS wrongdoing," Sebastian's voice cracked like a whip. "Would you prefer I take this to the International Confederation of Wizards? I'm sure they would be very interested in how Britain handles the safety of foreign underage citizens on their soil."
The portraits of previous headmasters were all awake now, watching the confrontation with great interest. Even Snape had stepped slightly forward from his shadowy corner, his dark eyes glittering.
"I believe," Dumbledore said carefully, "That Minister Delacour's requests are quite reasonable, given the circumstances. Don't you agree, Cornelius?"
Fudge looked like he'd swallowed something particularly unpleasant, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yes... yes, quite reasonable. I'll have the apology drafted immediately."
"In both English and French," Sebastian added firmly. "And I want to review the safety measures for the third task personally."
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "Though I must ask - will you be staying at Hogwarts until then?"
Sebastian straightened his robes. "My wife and I will be taking rooms in Hogsmeade. We'll be remaining until the tournament's conclusion. After all," his expression hardened again, "I clearly cannot trust the tournament organizers to prioritize the safety of their participants - or their hostages."
The rebuke hung heavy in the air. McGonagall looked like she wanted to applaud, while Fudge seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible.
"If that is all," Sebastian concluded, "I believe my wife is waiting for me. We're having lunch with our daughters - and Mister Potter, of course. The boy seems to have a good head on his shoulders, despite the negligence of those meant to protect him." With a final pointed look at both Fudge and Dumbledore, he turned and strode from the office, Madame Maxime following in his wake.
McGonagall turned and quietly asked Dumbledore why he hadn't mentioned that Harry's relatives aren't exactly fond of magic, and that's why their permission could not be taken.
"That would force me to explain what kind of people they are, and I don't think that would do us any favors right now."
⚯ ͛
⚯ ͛
Sebastian Delacour made his way through the castle grounds, the crisp February air nipping at his face. His anger from the meeting had subsided somewhat, replaced by determination to ensure better protection for both his daughters and Harry. As he approached the Black Lake, he spotted two figures by the beech tree near the water's edge.
A smile tugged at his lips as he recognized his daughter's silvery-blonde hair. Fleur and Harry were quite wrapped up in each other - quite literally, as they were sharing what appeared to be a rather passionate kiss. Harry's hands were respectfully placed on Fleur's waist, while her fingers were tangled in his perpetually messy black hair.
Sebastian cleared his throat loudly as he approached. The teenagers sprang apart, Harry's face turning a spectacular shade of red. Fleur, however, merely smiled at her father, though her cheeks were slightly pink.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, smoothing her Beauxbatons uniform. "We were just-"
"Discussing underwater breathing techniques, I'm sure," Sebastian replied dryly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. He turned to Harry, who looked like he was seriously considering jumping into the Black Lake to escape his girlfriend's father. "Relax, 'Arry. If I was going to hex you for kissing my daughter, I would have done it days ago."
Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his face remained flushed. "Mr. Delacour, sir, I-"
"Sebastian," he corrected gently, conjuring a comfortable chair for himself and settling into it. He gestured for the young couple to sit on the grass. "We are practically family now, non? After all, you did save both my daughters yesterday."
Fleur beamed at Harry, who ducked his head modestly. "I just did what anyone would have done," he mumbled.
"Non, you did what a true wizard with a noble heart would do," Sebastian corrected. "Which is why I just spent the last hour defending your rights in Dumbledore's office."
Both teenagers straightened at this. "What happened, Papa?" Fleur asked, reaching for Harry's hand instinctively.
Sebastian's expression darkened slightly. "I had some choice words for both your headmaster and Minister Fudge about their... cavalier approach to student safety. Particularly regarding putting an eight-year-old at the bottom of a lake without parental consent, and forcing an underage wizard to compete in a potentially lethal tournament."
Harry's eyes widened. "Sir- Sebastian, you didn't have to-"
"I did," Sebastian interrupted firmly. "Both as a father and as Minister of Magic. What they did was not only morally wrong but legally questionable. Using an underage foreign citizen as a hostage without parental consent? From what I have heard, your name came out of the Goblet of Fire without you putting your name yourself, or telling someone else to put it, more should have been put around the Goblet to make sure that something like that doesn't happen." He shook his head. "It's unconscionable."
Fleur squeezed Harry's hand. "What did they say to that?"
A satisfied smirk crossed Sebastian's face. "After I reminded them of the potential international implications, they became quite cooperative. There will be a formal apology issued in both English and French, and I will personally oversee the safety measures for the third task."
"You're staying until the third task?" Fleur asked excitedly.
"Your mother and I both," Sebastian nodded. "We've taken rooms in Hogsmeade. Speaking of your mother, she's waiting for us all for lunch." His eyes twinkled again. "Unless you two would prefer to continue your... breathing exercises?"
"Papa!" Fleur exclaimed, while Harry looked mortified again.
Sebastian laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to ease some of the tension from Harry's shoulders. "I'm sorry, 'Arry. It's a father's privilege to tease his daughter's boyfriend a little. But in all seriousness..." His expression sobered. "I want you to know that I'm here for you as well. Fleur tells me about your home situation with these... Dursleys."
Harry tensed slightly, but Sebastian continued gently, "You should have had someone fighting in your corner long before now. Someone making sure your rights and safety were protected. Since the adults who should have done so have failed rather spectacularly, I would be honored to help fill that role - if you'll allow me."
Harry stared at him, clearly stunned by the offer. "I... I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing for now," Sebastian suggested kindly. "Just know that the offer stands. And know that I've already insisted that you and Fleur receive additional protective measures for the third task. I won't have either of you unnecessarily endangered again."
Fleur beamed at her father. "Merci, Papa."
"Also," Sebastian added, standing up and vanishing his chair, "I heard about your living arrangements for the summer. Our home in France has plenty of room, and you would be more than welcome, 'Arry. In fact, I insist."
Harry's eyes grew suspiciously bright. "That's... that's very kind of you, sir- Sebastian."
"Not kind," Sebastian corrected. "Family. Now, shall we go find your mother and Gabrielle? Your sister hasn't stopped talking about her 'flight' around Hogwarts with you, 'Arry. I think she's hoping for another one before we leave."
As they walked back toward the castle, Sebastian noticed how naturally Harry and Fleur fell into step together, how his daughter's whole face lit up when Harry smiled at her, how Harry seemed to stand a little straighter with Fleur by his side. Yes, he thought, he had made the right decision in standing up for the boy. Anyone who could make his daughter this happy, who would risk his life to save Gabrielle, who could face dragons and still maintain such humility - that was someone worth protecting.
And if protecting Harry meant ruffling a few political feathers at the British Ministry of Magic, well... Sebastian Delacour had never been one to back down from a fight, especially when family was involved.
Harry Potter
The afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of Hogwarts' corridors as Harry and Fleur walked hand in hand after their Transfiguration lesson together - McGonagall had allowed Fleur to join some of Harry's classes since they started dating. They were discussing the day's lesson, with Fleur gently correcting Harry's pronunciation of some transfiguration terms.
"Non, mon coeur," Fleur giggled, squeezing his hand. "You're still saying it wrong. It's 'Trans-fee-gur-ah-tion Partielle', not 'Par-tee-al Trans-fee-gur-ay-shun'."
Harry grinned at her. "Maybe I'm saying it wrong on purpose just to hear you laugh," he teased, pulling her closer as they walked.
"Oh? And 'ow many other things do you do just to 'ear me laugh?" Fleur raised an eyebrow playfully.
"That's a secret," Harry winked, leaning in for a quick kiss.
"POTTER!"
The harsh bark of Mad-Eye Moody's voice made them both jump. The scarred ex-Auror was stumping toward them, his wooden leg creating an uneven rhythm against the stone floor. His magical eye was spinning wildly, seeming to look everywhere at once before fixing unnervingly on Harry.
Fleur's grip on Harry's hand tightened imperceptibly.
"Professor Moody," Harry greeted politely, though Fleur noticed he'd subtly shifted his stance, placing himself slightly in front of her. It was such an instinctive protective gesture that she doubted he even realized he'd done it.
"Need a word with you, Potter," Moody growled, his magical eye now fixed on Fleur. "Privately."
"Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of Fleur," Harry replied firmly. The confidence in his voice was new - a far cry from the shy wizard who'd hidden his singing talent. Fleur felt a surge of pride.
"This is about tournament security," Moody insisted. "Confidential. Miss Delacour may be a champion, but this concerns specific security measures for you, Potter."
Fleur stepped forward. "Then per'aps we should get my father? As ze Minister of Magic for France, 'e 'as insisted on overseeing all security measures for both 'Arry and myself."
Something flickered across Moody's scarred face - frustration? Anger? It was gone too quickly to tell.
"No need to bother the Minister," Moody said gruffly. "This won't take long. My office is just around the corner, Potter."
Harry glanced at Fleur, seeing the concern in her eyes. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's alright," he said softly. "I'll meet you in the library afterward?"
Fleur hesitated. Every instinct was screaming at her that something was wrong with Moody, but she couldn't explain it without sounding paranoid. And he was a professor, after all - one who had been helping Harry with the tournament.
"D'accord," she finally agreed, but her voice was tight with worry. She turned to Moody. "'E better not be late for our study session, Professor. My father is quite interested in 'Arry's academic progress."
The subtle reminder of Sebastian Delacour's involvement wasn't lost on Moody, whose magical eye spun rapidly for a moment. "Wouldn't dream of keeping young love apart," he said, and there was something almost mocking in his tone that made Fleur's skin crawl.
Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'll be fine," he whispered. "Save me a seat by the window?"
Fleur nodded, watching as Harry followed Moody down the corridor. Just before they turned the corner, Harry looked back and gave her a reassuring smile.
⚯ ͛
⚯ ͛
Moody's office was as cluttered as ever, filled with Dark Detectors and strange instruments that whirred and puffed smoke. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows, making the devices' shadows dance eerily on the walls. Harry noticed that Moody locked the door behind them with a flick of his wand - a detail that made him slightly uneasy.
"Sit, Potter," Moody growled, stumping over to his own chair behind the desk. His magical eye was fixed on Harry while his normal one glanced at a large trunk in the corner.
Harry sat, keeping his wand hand close to his pocket. Something about this situation felt off, though he couldn't quite place why.
"That was quite a show you put on in the lake," Moody said, pulling out his hip flask and taking a long drink. "Singing to the merpeople. Creative. Very creative."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied cautiously. "But I thought you wanted to discuss security measures?"
"Indeed," Moody's scarred face twisted into what might have been a smile. "That's why I need to borrow something of yours, Potter. A certain... map."
Harry felt his blood run cold. "A map, sir?"
"Don't play dumb, boy," Moody growled. "The Marauder's Map. A remarkable piece of magic - shows everyone in Hogwarts, where they are, what they're doing, every minute of every day."
"...Sir, how do you know about this map?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Your father told me during the war." Mad-Eye Moody said simply, and Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he continued. "I understand it was something he mainly kept secret with his friends, but when you are in a war, and not sure if there will be another day. You tend to say things. Your father was telling a story about his mischieves to the group, and he happened to mention the map. I was there. That's how I know." he added, sounding convincing enough.
Harry's mind was racing. A letter from Sirius flashed in his memory: "I'm surprised the Weasley twins managed to find the map and figure out how to use it. Only the four of us - your father, Remus, that rat Pettigrew, and myself - knew of its existence and how to operate it properly. We never told anyone else about it..."
"I need it," Moody continued, his magical eye spinning faster. "To ensure security for the third task. Can't have anyone sneaking around where they shouldn't be, can we?"
Harry's suspicion deepened. He wasn't sure what to think. His story sounded believable enough, and he could see that happening, but he didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about this.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady, "but I don't have the map anymore. I lost it last year."
Moody's normal eye narrowed. "Lost it? A valuable magical artifact like that, and you just... lost it?"
"Yes, sir," Harry maintained eye contact with Moody's normal eye, remembering what the real Mad-Eye had said about lying - maintain eye contact, but not too much. "After using it to get to Hogsmeade last year. Haven't seen it since."
Moody leaned forward, both eyes now fixed intently on Harry. "Are you quite sure about that, Potter? Lying to a professor could get you in serious trouble."
"I'm not lying, sir," Harry said, injecting a note of regret into his voice. "I wish I still had it - it would've been useful for the tournament. But it's gone."
There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the whirring of the Dark Detectors. Harry could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck, but he kept his expression neutral.
Finally, Moody leaned back. "Very well, Potter. Shame about the map. Would've made security much easier." He took another long drink from his flask, and Harry noticed his hand trembling slightly. "You may go."
Harry stood, trying not to appear too eager to leave. As he reached for the door handle, Moody spoke again.
"Oh, and Potter? If you happen to... find the map again, do let me know. Immediately."
"Of course, Professor," Harry nodded, then left the office as quickly as he could without running.
Once outside, he leaned against the wall, his heart pounding.
The trembling hand, the insistence about the map, the frequent drinking from the flask... pieces were starting to come together in Harry's mind, but the picture they formed was disturbing.
He needed to find Fleur and Hermione. And maybe... maybe it was time to write another letter to Sirius.
As Harry hurried toward the library, he didn't notice Moody's magical eye following him through the office wall, or the way the professor's face contorted with frustrated rage once Harry was out of sight. Nor did he hear the quiet mutter: "Crucio would loosen the boy's tongue... but no, not yet. The Dark Lord wants him undamaged. For now."
Inside the office, "Moody" took another long drink from his flask, grimacing at the taste of Polyjuice Potion, and began planning his next move. The boy was clearly lying about the map - but there would be other opportunities. After all, the third task was approaching, and with it, his master's return...
⚯ ͛
⚯ ͛
Harry practically ran to the library, his mind racing with implications of Moody's knowledge about the map. As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Fleur, who was hurrying in the opposite direction with Hermione.
"'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed, immediately pulling him into an embrace. "We were just coming to find you."
"Something's wrong," Harry said as Fleur drew back to look at his face, concern evident in her blue eyes.
Hermione quickly ushered them into an empty classroom, casting a quick "Muffliato" spell - one she'd recently discovered in the library.
"What 'appened?" Fleur demanded as soon as the door was shut. "You look worried."
"It's Moody," Harry said, running a hand through his messy hair. "He knows about the Marauder's Map. He asked me for it - said he needed it for tournament security. He told me my father told him about it a long time ago, but something doesn't sound right, especially with what Sirius told me."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning.
"I got a letter from Sirius a while ago," Harry explained. "In his letter, he was talking about his past mischives with my father and he mentioned that only four people ever knew about the map - my dad, himself, Lupin, and Pettigrew. They never told anyone else. It was their secret."
"What if your father told him? I mean, he was no longer a Hogwarts student, and as you grow, you tend to no longer see things as important as they were when you were younger?"
"And there's something else that's odd," Harry added, pacing the classroom. "He kept drinking from his flask - his hands were shaking when he did it. He always has that flask with him, drinking from it almost every hour..."
Hermione's eyes widened suddenly. "Harry... what if... what if it's Polyjuice Potion?"
Fleur gasped. "'ermione... you think someone is impersonating ze real Moody?"
"It's just speculation," Hermione said quickly. "But it would explain the constant drinking..."
"I should tell Papa," Fleur said immediately.
"No," Harry interrupted firmly. "Your father's powerful, Fleur, but he's also too visible. If someone really is impersonating Moody, they'll be watching everyone in authority. We need someone who can move in the shadows." He hesitated. "We need Sirius."
"Your godfather?" Fleur asked. "The one who escaped Azkaban?"
"And who knows more about sneaking around Hogwarts than almost anyone," Harry added. "Plus, he knew the real Moody during the war. He might notice something we've missed."
Hermione was already pulling parchment and a quill from her bag. "We should write to him now. But be careful what you put in the letter - if someone's intercepting owl post..."
"We can use code," Harry suggested, taking the parchment. "I'll ask him about Padfoot's old friends and whether any of them might have shared their secrets with others."
Fleur watched as Harry began writing, her hand still clasped in his. "'Arry... if someone is impersonating Moody, they're in a perfect position to 'urt you during the tournament."
"I know," Harry squeezed her hand. "But that's why we need to be smart about this. If we tell your father or Dumbledore without proof, whoever it is might just disappear - and then we'll never know what they're planning."
"I don't like it," Fleur declared, her Veela nature making her eyes flash silver for a moment. "The idea of you being in danger..."
"I don't like it either," Harry admitted, pulling her closer. "But I've got you watching my back now, don't I?"
"Always," she promised fiercely.
"And me," Hermione added, already pulling books from her bag. "I'll start researching ways to detect Polyjuice Potion use. There must be something..."
Harry finished the letter and read it over:
"Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're well. I've been wondering about your old school friends lately. Did any of you ever share your special project with others during the war? Someone claimed Dad told them about it, but that doesn't sound right to me.
Also, do you remember what your old friend Alastor was like back then? Some of his recent behavior seems odd.
Miss you,
Harry"
"Subtle enough?" he asked, showing it to the girls.
"Perfect," Hermione nodded. "Anyone intercepting it would think you're just asking about old war stories."
"I'll take it to ze owlery now," Fleur offered. "I can cast some protection charms on it - Veela magic is 'arder to detect and counter."
As they left the classroom, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. But with Fleur's warm hand in his and Hermione's brilliant mind working on the problem, he felt more confident than he had in Moody's office.
Whatever was going on, they would figure it out together. They had to - because Harry had a sinking feeling that the third task would be even more dangerous than they imagined.
⚯ ͛
⚯ ͛
The sun had nearly set by the time Harry and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Harry's mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of Moody when a theatrical wail caught his attention.
"Oh, the betrayal!" Fred Weasley clutched his chest, stumbling backwards into George's waiting arms.
"The deceit!" George added, fanning his twin's face dramatically. "All these years, dear brother, and not one private concert!"
Harry groaned, though he couldn't help but smile. The twins had been keeping this act up since the second task. At least their teasing was good-natured, unlike Ron's continued cold shoulder from his usual spot by the chess table.
"Our honorary brother," Fred continued, wiping imaginary tears, "blessed with the voice of an angel-"
"And he's been holding out on us!" George finished, shaking his head sadly.
"Leave him alone, you two," Hermione said, but she was fighting back a grin.
Neville looked up from his Herbology homework by the fire. "It is pretty amazing though, Harry. How did you manage to keep it secret for so long?"
Before Harry could answer, Seamus and Dean descended from the boys' dormitory.
"Oi, Potter!" Seamus called out. "Four years of sharing a dorm, and you couldn't give us one little song?"
"Yeah," Dean added, "We've had to listen to Seamus's tone-deaf humming in the shower all this time when we could've had actual talent!"
"Oy!" Seamus protested, shoving Dean playfully.
A group of second and third years who had been whispering in the corner suddenly approached. Colin Creevey, predictably, was leading them.
"Harry!" Colin's eyes were shining with admiration. "Would you maybe sing something for us? Please? Just one song?"
Harry felt his face heating up. "I don't really-"
"Come on, Harry!" another young Gryffindor pleaded. "You sounded amazing!"
"Leave him be," Hermione intervened, seeing Harry's discomfort. "He doesn't have to perform on command."
"But-" Colin started.
"No buts," Hermione said firmly. "Harry's voice is his to share when and if he wants to."
The younger students retreated, looking disappointed. Harry shot Hermione a grateful look.
"Though I must say," Neville spoke up again, more quietly this time, "it was incredible what you did in the lake. The way the merpeople just... stopped. I've never heard of anything like it."
Harry sat down near Neville by the fire, Hermione taking the armchair next to them. "It wasn't really planned," he admitted. "I just... saw them attacking Fleur and reacted."
"Speaking of Fleur," George wiggled his eyebrows, dropping onto the couch opposite them. "Does she get private concerts?"
"Yeah, all those 'study sessions' in empty classrooms," Fred added with a wink, joining his twin. "Sure there's not a bit of duetting going on?"
"Fred!" Hermione scolded, but Harry just shook his head, smiling despite himself. After the tension of the day - Moody's strange behavior, the worrying implications, the letter to Sirius - the twins' teasing felt almost normal.
"If you must know," Harry said, "Fleur likes me for more than my voice."
"'Course she does, mate," Dean said, joining their circle. "But you've got to admit, it's a nice bonus. Half the girls in school are swooning now."
"And the other half were already swooning," Seamus added with a laugh.
Harry laughed along, feeling much better. Hermione smiled at him, as if telling him 'I told you so,' and Harry could already imagine Fleur and Gabriella demanding him to sing for them.
If you want to Read Two More Chapter Right Now. Write 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First Link