Harry Potter and the Second Chance - Chapter 66 - A Painful Save

Harry jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving as he tried to orient himself. His vision swam, his thoughts sluggish and confused. Cold air pressed against his skin, and the scent of damp wood and old decay filled his nose. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, only to realize he wasn’t in his bed, wasn’t even anywhere familiar in that disorienting first moment. Instead, he was on the floor, sprawled awkwardly, his back throbbing painfully as he tired to push himself upright.

Pain lanced through his spine, making him wince. The wooden planks beneath him creaked as he shifted, and as his breathing evened out, awareness flooded back. Apparating with Dumbledore. The Gaunt shack. The floating Horcrux ring. The—

His head snapped up, eyes darting frantically to the center of the room.

The Horcrux ring was gone.

Panic surged through him as he panickily looked around the room, his back protesting at the jerky movements. His heart pounded against his ribs as he scanned the dimly lit space, his breath catching when he spotted a hunched figure sitting silently on a conjured chair. Dumbledore. The old wizard was staring hollowly at the rotting wooden walls, his face gaunt, his eyes distant. The sight sent a fresh wave of unease through Harry.

But before he could open his mouth, another movement caught his attention.

Kneeling beside him was … Fleur Delacour.

His eyes widened in shock. “Fleur?!” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She looked slightly embarrassed at his reaction, shifting uncomfortably before shaking her head and fixing him with a serious expression. “’Ow do you feel?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Harry hesitated for half a second, his mind still piecing everything together. Then, like a sudden crash of ice-cold water, the memory struck him—

The Horcrux. The spell. The way the curse had rebounded off the ring’s surface, seeming to become stronger before it hit him. He remembered the sickening force that had sent him flying backward, his body slamming into the wall before everything went dark.

His breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes darted frantically around the room again. “The ring—where’s the ring?” he demanded, his voice urgent.

Dumbledore stirred. His blue eyes, usually twinkling with mischief or quiet amusement, were dull as they shifted toward Fleur. She, in turn, met Harry’s gaze before lifting her hand.

In her grasp was a small, ornate box.

The very same box Dumbledore had brought to contain the Horcrux.

Harry stared at it, his mouth opening slightly, but words failed him. His heart still pounded from the leftover adrenaline, and he was too stunned to do anything but stare as she held it out.

Dumbledore, seeming to shake off whatever thoughts had consumed him, stood slowly. With a flick of his wrist, his conjured chair vanished. He stepped forward, his movements precise despite the weariness etched into his features. Taking the box from Fleur, he waved his wand over it. A faint hum of magic vibrated in the air, and after a moment, he nodded.

“It is contained,” he murmured. Then, after a long pause, where he stared at Fleur, he exhaled deeply. “A discussion must be had, clearly. But,” his gaze moved between Harry, Fleur, and the shack itself, “this is neither the time nor the place for it.”

Harry let out a small breath, a dry chuckle escaping him despite himself. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Fleur gave him a pointed look but she nodded and held her tongue.

Dumbledore tucked the box inside his robes before stepping toward Harry. “Can you stand properly, my boy?”

Harry stretched his limbs experimentally, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles but nodding. “Yeah. Just sore.”

“Good. Miss Delacour, I assume you are well?”

Fleur gave a graceful nod. “Oui.” Her lips pressed together, the concern in her eyes unmistakable. “I am fine, I just sat here till you both woke up.”

Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out just how long he had been out. Judging by the cold seeping into his bones, it had to have been some time.

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment. “Then we should leave at once. Hogwarts will be a far safer place for all of us.”

Fleur stood gracefully, brushing dust from her robes before stepping aside to let Harry move freely. Dumbledore waved his wand once more, vanishing any traces of their presence in the decrepit shack.

Harry got to his feet slowly, shaking off the lingering stiffness in his limbs. Fleur stood alongside him, moving with the effortless grace that always seemed second nature to her. Dumbledore gave them both a brief glance before turning toward the exit of the ruined shack. With a flick of his wand, the door to the Gaunt shack creaked open, revealing the darkened path beyond.

Harry watched as Dumbledore stepped forward, but as he moved to take a step he wavered slightly. However, Fleur moved to his side, offering a steadying hand as he recentered himself, still slightly disoriented. He gave her a quick nod of thanks but kept his focus on Dumbledore, who had already stepped outside. The old wizard’s posture was tense, his movements precise—more so than usual.

“Come along,” Dumbledore murmured, voice quiet but firm.

Without a word, they followed him out into the cold night air.

Harry found himself at the back of their small procession, his eyes unconsciously drawn to the back of Fleur’s head as they walked. Strands of silver-blonde hair caught the dim light of the moon, swaying gently with each step she took. His mind was still sluggish from being thrown into the wall, but one question burned in his thoughts.

Why was she here?

He had no memory of summoning her, nor any clue as to how she had even known where to find him. Yet, she had been kneeling beside him when he woke, concern etched onto her features. It unsettled him—not because he didn’t appreciate the help, but because it was one more piece of the puzzle that he didn’t yet understand.

Dumbledore led them to the same spot where they had first arrived, the overgrown brush still trampled from their landing. The old wizard turned to Fleur, his expression kind but unreadable.

“I believe that, based on your presence here, I am safe to assume you know how to Apparate, Mademoiselle Delacour?” he asked.

Fleur gave a short nod, her gaze unwavering. “Oui, I do.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “Perfect.”

Without further ado, he raised his wand and gave a slight twist. A split second later, the familiar, suffocating pull of Apparition yanked at Harry’s stomach. The world blurred and twisted—darkness swallowing them whole—before he stumbled forward onto solid ground again.

They had returned to the outskirts of Hogwarts, just beyond where the protective enchantments ended. The castle loomed ahead, its many towers piercing the star-streaked sky, warm golden lights flickering from many of the windows.

For the most part, they walked in silence. The only sound was the faint rustling of their footsteps against the grass, the occasional distant hoot of an owl.

Harry’s thoughts churned as he stole another glance at Fleur. He wanted to ask her why she had come, what had led her to him. But something about the weight in the air, Dumbledore’s expression, kept him quiet. There would be time for questions later.

When they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, the headmaster opened his mouth to speak—

“Headmaster!”

Professor McGonagall’s voice rang through the hallway as she hurried toward them, her robes billowing as she moved with uncharacteristic urgency. Her sharp eyes locked onto Dumbledore immediately, her expression tight with barely restrained concern.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore greeted her lightly, as if nothing were amiss. “A pleasure, as always. But I fear we do not have time to chat at this particular—”

McGonagall cut him off, her tone brisk. “There have been several urgent messages from Amelia Bones, Headmaster. It’s reached the point where she has now taken to contacting me.”

Dumbledore’s expression barely shifted, but something in his eyes sharpened. “Ah.”

“She insists it is of utmost importance that you make your way to her office immediately,” McGonagall continued, her lips pressed into a firm line.

Harry, watching the exchange, felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Dumbledore turned to him, then back to McGonagall.

It was only then that Professor McGonagall seemed to notice Fleur and Harry standing there—and more importantly, the state they were in. Her gaze flickered over Harry’s disheveled robes, the faint bruising on his skin, and Fleur standing at his side with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Potter? Mademoiselle Delacour?” She looked between them in clear confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Dumbledore, ever composed, merely gave a small wave of his hand. “Do not worry, Minerva. It is Hogwarts business.” He spoke with the air of someone closing a conversation before it could properly begin. “I do apologize for being momentarily unreachable.”

McGonagall gave him a skeptical look, clearly not satisfied with that answer, but she didn’t push further.

Dumbledore sighed, adjusting the sleeves of his robe. “I have an assumption as to what this is about. Thank you for passing the message along, Minerva. I apologize that you were dragged into this; I will contact Madam Bones at once and ensure she does not disturb you for the remainder of the evening.”

McGonagall nodded, though her eyes lingered on Harry and Fleur for another moment. A silent question passed across her face, but she didn’t voice it. Instead, she merely pressed her lips together, gave one last searching glance at Dumbledore, and turned away.

As she walked down the corridor, she glanced over her shoulder one last time before finally disappearing around the corner.

Silence settled between the three of them.

Dumbledore exhaled quietly. “Well,” he said, almost amused, “I suppose we shall have to postpone our discussion a little while longer.” He turned to Harry and Fleur. “Would you both be so kind as to wait in my office until I return? I am unsure how long this will take.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Fleur, who gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” Harry agreed.

Dumbledore smiled, muttered the password to the gargoyle, and watched as the entrance revealed itself.

Dumbledore led them past the gargoyle, up the spiraling staircase, and into his office. The warm glow of the floating candles illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the numerous trinkets, books, and magical oddities that cluttered the shelves. Fawkes, perched on his golden stand, ruffled his feathers lazily as the headmaster strode toward his desk.

Without a word, Dumbledore carefully set the ornate box onto the polished surface of his desk, before opening one of the drawers and placing it within. His fingers lingered on it for a moment before he turned back to Harry, his expression unreadable.

“We will make a plan to deal with … this,” Dumbledore said, gesturing slightly toward the box, “as soon as I have concluded my business with Madam Bones.”

Harry nodded, his eyes flickering briefly to the box before returning to Dumbledore.

The headmaster glanced between Harry and Fleur, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I am unsure how long this meeting will take, but you are both welcome to wait here as long as you like.” His voice was calm, but there was an unspoken weight behind his words. He sighed, offering a small shrug. “I shall do my best to be quick, but … no promises, I’m afraid.”

Then, shifting his gaze to Fleur, he gave her a warm smile. “That being said, I suspect thanks are in order. And I must admit, I am most interested in hearing your story, Mademoiselle Delacour. I am sure that how you just happened to arrive when you did is quite the story.”

Fleur inclined her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips, though she remained silent.

Dumbledore gave a knowing chuckle. “In the meantime, feel free to chat with Mr. Potter. I imagine you have much to discuss.” His eyes twinkled momentarily before he straightened. “However, if I am not back within an hour, I would ask that you return to your carriage. I will arrange a time for the three of us to speak tomorrow.”

With that, he turned away and strode over to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of Floo powder from the small dish beside it, he stepped into the flames and, in a swirl of green fire, vanished to Madam Bones’ office.

For a few moments, silence settled over the room.

Harry stared at the place where Dumbledore had disappeared, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened that night. Then, remembering he wasn’t alone, he turned back to Fleur, uncertain of how to begin.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, but before he could say anything—

“What were you doing there?” he asked at the same time that Fleur spoke.

“Are you alright?”

They both blinked in surprise before exchanging small smiles. Fleur tilted her head slightly, as if amused, while Harry let out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m alright,” he answered first, shifting slightly as he stretched out his sore muscles. “I mean … I’ve certainly been through worse.” He hesitated, then added, “But I imagine that, thanks to you, I’m still in one piece.”

Fleur smiled, a flicker of relief crossing her face. “Bon.” She glanced briefly toward Dumbledore’s desk, where the box containing the Horcrux was stored, before looking back at Harry. “And … what was that ring?”

Harry followed her gaze toward the desk. His fingers unconsciously twitched as he remembered how close he had come to touching the cursed object. A faint shudder ran through him, and he quickly looked away, focusing on the floor for a moment before meeting Fleur’s eyes again.

“That’s … a long story,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “One that’s better left for when Dumbledore is here.”

Fleur studied him for a moment before giving a small nod, accepting his answer.

Letting out a breath, Harry shifted his stance and asked again, “So … what were you doing there?”

Fleur was silent for a moment, as if considering how to respond. Finally, she exhaled softly, crossing her arms.

“I ‘ad been looking for you,” she admitted simply.

Harry blinked. “Looking for me?”

Fleur hesitated for a moment before looking away, her cheeks tinged with a faint shade of pink. Harry frowned slightly, confused by the sudden shift in her demeanor.

Finally, she glanced back at him, as if steeling herself, and spoke.

“Ever since the Second Task,” she said softly, “I ‘ave started to … pay more attention to you.”

Harry blinked. Wait, what?

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before he could say anything, Fleur quickly continued, as if afraid of giving him time to interrupt.

“I mean,” she said, her voice gaining back some of its usual composure, “I ‘ave seen you in the tournament, ‘Arry. I ‘ave seen what you are capable of. But beyond that, there is … an air of mystery around you.”

Harry tilted his head. “Mystery?”

Fleur nodded, her blue eyes watching him closely. “Oui. You are strong, yes, but you also seem to be … different from your peers. As if there is more to you than what people see.”

Harry opened his mouth, but she wasn’t finished.

“I could not ‘elp but be intrigued by you,” she admitted, her face coloring slightly. “And then, when I saw you leaving the Great Hall earlier after Professor Dumbledore, I …” She hesitated before sighing. “I followed you.”

Harry stared at her, completely caught off guard.

Fleur pressed on, as if wanting to explain herself before he could judge her for it.

“At first, I assumed you were going somewhere within the castle—perhaps to the library, or some classroom,” she said. “But when I saw you and the headmaster heading outside, crossing the grounds … I cast a tracking charm on you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he let out a short laugh. “A tracking charm?”

Fleur smiled slightly, giving a small shrug. “I assumed that Professor Dumbledore would notice if I tried to track him, but you …” She trailed off, her smile turning almost teasing.

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “I’m not sure how I should take that.”

Fleur smirked. “Take it as you like, mon ami.”

He laughed again but couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. Even though she had not cast the spell at Dumbledore she Fleur had managed to follow them undetected, something he doubted very few people could manage with Dumbledore involved. That took skill, and perhaps a little audacity.

Fleur continued, “Once I knew where you ‘ad gone, it took some time but I apparated to the location. I managed to follow the trail from you, the one that lead to the house, and …” She shuddered slightly, her expression darkening. “I ‘ave never been in a place that felt so … cursed.”

Harry nodded in understanding. The Gaunt shack had been filled with dark magic, thick and heavy in the air, pressing down on them like a physical force.

She exhaled sharply before continuing. “I made my way closer, but I did not want to reveal myself just yet. And then … I ‘eard a loud thud.”

Harry winced, remembering exactly what that was. That was when I hit Dumbledore with the Full Body-Bind.

Fleur looked at him with a questioning expression but didn’t push for details. Instead, she pressed on.

“I moved to the back of the house and saw you standing near that … that thing.” She gestured toward Dumbledore’s desk, where the box containing the ring was now stored. “You ‘ad dropped the box, and you were reaching for the ring. There was something weird in how you were moving, as if you were in a daze, but when I called out to you, you ignored me.”

Harry frowned, recalling the trance-like state he had fallen into.

“I knew … or at least I felt that the ring was dangerous,” Fleur continued, her voice more urgent now. “The magic around it—it was dark, wrong. I tried to stop you, but you did not respond. So …”

She looked away, clearly embarrassed.

Harry’s curiosity piqued. “So …?”

Fleur sighed, meeting his gaze again. “I tried to banish the ring to the other side of the room—to separate you from it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well it didn’t exactly go as you planned.”

Fleur groaned, rubbing her temple. “No, it did not.”

Harry chuckled, but Fleur shot him a glare. “It is not funny, ‘Arry!”

Crossing her arms she looked at him. “And, of course, it just so ‘appened that when the spell rebounded it shot towards you and send you flying into the wall.”

Harry winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah … I remember that part.”

Fleur sighed. “I am sorry.”

Harry looked at her in surprise before shaking his head. “Don’t be. If anything, you probably saved me from doing something really stupid.”

Fleur gave him a searching look before nodding. “Then I’m glad.”

She hesitated again, then continued, “Anyways, after that, I saw you drop the box, so I picked it up. I knew that whatever that ring was, it needed to be contained.”

Harry listened intently, fascinated by her account of what had happened while he had been unconscious.

Fleur’s face grew more serious. “As I approached the ring, I … I ‘eard something.”

Harry’s breath caught slightly. “You heard something?”

She nodded slowly. “I ‘eard my grand-mère’s voice.”

Harry’s stomach twisted as he tried to look down towards her hand.

Fleur shivered. “I knew it was impossible, but I ‘eard her. Calling to me, whispering my name.” She clenched her fists slightly. “The magic from that ring was like nothing I ‘ave ever felt. It was dark, it was consuming, and it felt as if it wanted to pull me in.”

Harry swallowed hard. He knew that feeling all too well.

“But,” Fleur continued, “I fought it. I forced myself to move forward, and I enclosed the ring in the box.”

She exhaled slowly, as if recalling the moment in vivid detail.

“As soon as I did, I felt it—the dark magic in the air… it lessened, significantly. Like something was being contained, restrained.”

Harry nodded. “That makes sense. Horc—” He stopped himself, realizing he had nearly said too much. He cleared his throat. “The ring is … a very dark artifact. You were right to feel uneasy.”

Fleur studied him closely. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Harry hesitated before nodding slowly. “Yes. But … it’s not something I can explain just yet. Not without Dumbledore.”

Fleur frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she sighed. “Well, whatever it is, I am glad it is locked away.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Me too.”

A comfortable silence settled between them.

After a moment, Fleur let out a soft chuckle.

“What?” Harry asked.

She smirked. “I do not believe this is what you expected when you woke up, non?”

Harry laughed. “Not even close.”

Fleur shook her head, still smiling. “You, ‘Arry Potter, are a very strange boy.”

Harry grinned. “And you, Fleur Delacour, are surprisingly way too good at sneaking around.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking smug. “I ‘ave my talents.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

Despite everything that had happened that night—the pain, the confusion, the near-disaster—he felt strangely at ease. And looking at Fleur now, he realized that, somehow, this night had changed something between them.

And he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant yet.

Fleur sat in silence for a moment, her blue eyes drifting toward the desk. Even though she couldn’t see the box that contained the cursed ring, she shuddered as if the very thought of it sent chills down her spine.

Harry watched her carefully, recognizing the haunted look on her face. He had felt it too—that oppressive darkness, the whispering temptation of the ring. He could still hear it if he thought too hard about it.

Fleur took a deep breath, pushing away the lingering feeling of unease, and turned to him.

“Once I enclosed the ring in the box, I ran over to you,” she said, her voice softer now, more measured. “You were unconscious, and I did not know what to do. I cast a minor healing charm to ease any injuries, though I am no Mediwitch.”

Harry nodded slowly, grateful. “That explains why I only sort of feel like I got hit by a Bludger, I guess.”

Fleur gave a small, almost amused huff but didn’t lose the serious expression on her face.

“I then looked over to Professor Dumbledore,” she continued, her voice growing distant as if she were reliving the moment. “By that time, he had managed to end whatever spell had been used on him, and he was sitting on a conjured chair.”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

“He looked haunted.”

Harry frowned as he nodded. He had never seen Dumbledore look truly shaken before, not even when discussing Voldemort. But remembering him mumble his sister’s name. he could imagine why.

Fleur turned back to him, searching his face. “What was going on in that room, ‘Arry?” she asked, voice laced with frustration and concern. “My father used to be the head of the Aurors in France before he joined the government. And because of that I ‘ave heard of all kinds of dark magic, but … never anything like what I felt in that room.”

She fixed him with a piercing stare. “What was that object?”

Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.

He couldn’t just tell her. Not yet. The truth about the Horcruxes, about Voldemort’s immortality—it wasn’t something he could explain in a few simple words, and certainly not something he could drop on Fleur in the middle of the night.

But before he could come up with an answer, the fireplace behind them flared with emerald flames, and Dumbledore’s head appeared in the fire.

“Ah,” the headmaster said, his twinkling blue eyes settling on them both. “I do apologize for interrupting.”

Harry and Fleur turned toward him, their conversation momentarily forgotten.

Dumbledore glanced at Harry and nodded knowingly. “As I suspected, this issue is precisely what I thought it would be. It is, I must say, extremely good news.”

Harry sat up straighter, his eyebrows raised. Good news? That wasn’t what he expected.

“However,” Dumbledore continued, “it is also time-sensitive and likely to take much longer than I initially anticipated.” His eyes flickered toward Fleur, and he gave her an apologetic smile. “As much as I would like to discuss everything tonight, I believe it would be best if we all got some rest.”

Fleur frowned but said nothing.

Dumbledore sighed. “I understand this must be unsatisfactory for you, Mademoiselle Delacour. You helped us a great deal tonight, and for that, I am very grateful. You are owed an explanation, and you shall receive one—but I would prefer to do this properly. Tomorrow morning would be far more ideal.”

Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep tonight, knowing everything that had happened, but he also understood that trying to have this conversation in the dead of night wouldn’t do them any favors.

Dumbledore watched Fleur expectantly, waiting for her response.

Fleur hesitated for only a second before nodding reluctantly. “D’accord,” she said finally. “Tomorrow morning.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Excellent. Until then, I bid you both good night.”

With that, he disappeared back into the flames, leaving the office silent once more.

Fleur turned back to Harry, her expression unreadable. “Then, I suppose I will wait until tomorrow.”

Harry exhaled, rubbing his face tiredly. “Yeah. I think that’s for the best.”

They both stood up, ready to leave. As they made their way toward the door, Harry turned to her once more, suddenly serious.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” he said quietly, “but … you can’t tell anyone what you saw tonight. Not a friend, not a professor. No one.”

Fleur stopped walking, turning to face him fully.

She looked at him in surprise, her blue eyes scanning his face. After a moment, her expression softened, and she nodded.

“I suppose I can do that … at least until tomorrow morning.”

Harry let out a small breath of relief. “Thank you.”

They walked in silence down the winding corridors of the castle. The torches flickered, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

When they reached the grand staircase, Fleur started down the steps, but after only a few steps, she stopped.

Harry watched as she turned back to look at him.

She held his gaze for a moment, her expression unreadable once again. Then, before he could react, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Harry’s breath caught.

Fleur pulled back, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, ‘Arry.”

Harry stood frozen, completely thrown off by what had just happened.

Fleur let out a quiet laugh at his expression before gracefully descending the staircase, her silvery hair flowing behind her.

Harry remained standing there, staring after her, still in shock.

His cheek felt warm where she had kissed it.

This night had already been insane, but somehow, this was the part that completely floored him.

As he finally turned and made his way toward Gryffindor Tower, one thought kept running through his head.

What the bloody hell just happened?

Kind Regards,

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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it's the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.

Story Note 1 –Fleur?!? Congrats to all who managed to guess it was Fleur. There were some really good guesses that would have made for a great chapter but of course there is a reason that Fleur was the one that saved Harry and this will certainly help with their relationship going forward.

Story Note 2 – I imagine that chat tomorrow morning will be quite intense. Without giving away any spoilers there will be a rather significant moment next chapter that I imagine will come as a surprise, how it is as enjoyable as everything else in the story.

Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.

Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter. Who knew.