Under the Weight of Flowers
Hermione, Draco, Daphne, and even Terry and Neville ran through the castle corridors, checking every corner as they searched for Harry. They had split up to cover more ground, yet finding him still seemed almost impossible.
Meanwhile, the school's infirmary was filled with students from the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, along with the Headmaster and the Heads of both Houses, who were talking to Dominic—his expression serious.
"...I'm sorry, Headmaster. It was my fault. I didn't know the boggart could take on such an advanced form. They say those creatures can sometimes absorb a fraction of the power of whatever they transform into," explained Dominic, lowering his head slightly.
"It's alright," the Headmaster replied, raising a hand to stop him. "Perhaps the boggart went through a sudden evolution. Being in a place full of students, surrounded by stress and mockery, could have caused it to mutate," the old man murmured softly, his eyes glinting faintly as if several thoughts were crossing his mind.
"At least everyone seems to be fine; just a minor scare," he added, glancing toward the students who were now awake. Even so, Madam Pomfrey insisted on checking them one more time before releasing them, making sure there was no lasting harm.
"By the way, Professor… is that boggart still there?" asked Dumbledore, turning to Dominic.
The young man nodded quickly. "Yes, it's contained. It seems to have lost that ability to amplify fear, but just in case, I've placed several layers of protection around it."
"Good. Send it to my office, then. We might investigate more thoroughly what really happened."
Dumbledore nodded, signaling the end of the conversation before walking away at his usual calm pace.
Dominic watched him go for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the old wizard's back, before turning back toward the students. A gentle smile crossed his face as he tried to calm them, offering a few words of apology for the incident. His sincere and protective attitude only increased his popularity among them.
…
In one of the most secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds, near the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest, a small hill covered with flowers of all colors and sizes rose like an improvised garden. From one of the castle windows, Fleur Delacour had noticed it, and curiosity kept her from ignoring the sight.
Having finished her classes for the day, she decided to go see it up close. As she approached the spot, something strange caught her attention among the flowers… it looked like someone was buried there. Her expression tensed for a moment, but when she got closer, she recognized a familiar face.
She stopped to the side, observing with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Resting her elbow on one arm and her chin on her hand, she adopted an elegant and analytical pose, one eyebrow arched in mild skepticism.
"What are you doing, Monsieur Villain?" she asked playfully.
The flowers shifted slightly, and the half-buried face turned just enough to look at her before returning its gaze to the sky, where the clouds were already painted with the warm orange of sunset.
"I'm being buried… for some reason," Harry replied calmly, pointing with his chin toward the forest.
Fleur followed his gesture and saw a rather curious sight: a medium-sized red dragon, a massive three-headed dog, a unicorn, a large serpent, and what appeared to be a tiny fairy in a crimson dress leading them. They were all gathering flowers under the fairy's direction, who pointed precisely to the patches with the prettiest blooms.
Fleur had to stifle a laugh at the absurd yet charming scene, but when she looked back at Harry, she noticed something melancholic in his expression.
"Well… I heard that when a fairy is sad, her companions bring her flowers to cheer her up," she said with a soft smile, watching him with gentle amusement.
Harry only responded with a quiet "mmm."
Fleur studied him for a few seconds longer before glancing back toward the castle.
"Your friends are looking for you everywhere. I saw Daphne getting scolded by Professor McGonagall for moving the Great Hall tables, and the Weasley twins are claiming you might be hiding in one of those secret rooms just to lure people into finding you… though I suspect they're doing it for other reasons," she said with a playful grin.
"Most likely. They'll take advantage of any situation to fulfill their goals," Harry said in his usual calm tone. "And I'm sure they're looking for me."
Yet he didn't make the slightest effort to get up from among the flowers.
Fleur watched him in silence as the darkness slowly began to settle over the grounds. From where they sat, the castle gleamed with torches and enchanted lights, their glow reflecting gold over the lake's surface. It was a beautiful view, and for a moment, both remained quiet—as if the world itself had fallen still.
Fleur finally sat down near him, spreading a handkerchief on the grass first, as any proper Frenchwoman would never risk dirtying her uniform.
"You know, when I first arrived here, I thought this castle was dreadful, to be honest. So old… and if it had already been renovated, I couldn't understand why they didn't make it look better. But seeing it now, like this… it doesn't seem that bad. Although Beauxbatons is still far more beautiful," she said, throwing him a teasing look, almost as if trying to start a friendly argument just to provoke some reaction from him.
Harry, without taking his eyes off the starry sky, only replied, "You're right. This castle sucks."
Fleur went quiet. The air grew slightly awkward, and she wasn't sure how to continue. Finally, she decided to be straightforward.
"So… what's wrong with you? Why are you so depressed—and half-buried like a corpse?" she asked bluntly.
Harry glanced at her briefly. "I don't feel like talking."
Fleur watched him for a moment, then narrowed her eyes with a touch of arrogance. "I remember you still owe me one. So I'll use it now. Tell me what's wrong."
Harry sighed softly at her words.
"You can use it however you want, and you use it here…" he said tiredly, keeping his gaze fixed on the lake.
"I can use it whenever and wherever I want. Come on, talk," Fleur replied firmly, staring at him intently.
Harry let out another sigh and slowly sat up. The flowers slid off his body as he adjusted himself, still half-buried among the petals. He rested his arms on his knees and let his eyes drift toward the dark reflection of the lake.
"I don't know… honestly, I have no idea," he murmured after a moment. "I thought I wasn't afraid of anything. That I'd trained enough to stay in control, to be the best at what I do. To never worry my mother; to make her proud. But lately I've been feeling a little…"
"Tired?" Fleur suggested softly.
"Maybe." Harry gave a faint nod. "There's this knot in my stomach that keeps growing, and this weight in my chest. A panic that I can't explain. I try to stay in control, but the more I fight it, the more it slips away." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper carried off by the breeze drifting across the lake.
"When did that start?" Fleur asked cautiously.
"I don't know… maybe since we came back to Hogwarts," he replied, thoughtful.
"It was the day that man escaped, wasn't it?" Fleur asked gently, earning a glance from him. "Well, the news reached France too. After all, it caused quite a stir in the British Ministry of Magic. And when the Flamel family told us they wanted us to meet you, we looked into some information…" she added, a bit embarrassed.
Harry turned his gaze away. "It doesn't matter," he murmured. "Maybe you're right." His eyes returned to the lake, where something under the surface seemed to shift, distorting the reflection of the starry sky.
"So, what's the problem? What do you want to do?" Fleur asked, getting straight to the point.
Harry didn't look at her. He exhaled a long breath. "To be honest… I want to catch him myself. Make him regret ever betraying my parents. Make him suffer. Something worse than death."
As he spoke, his pupils darkened into red, surrounded by the faint green glow of his irises. The air around him seemed to tense.
Fleur watched him with a slightly amused smile. "You sound like a villain," she said, half teasing, half challenging.
Harry let out a faint, bitter laugh before continuing. "On the other hand… I know my parents wouldn't want one of their friends—even a traitor—to be killed by their son. Or worse, to have their other friends destroy each other over revenge."
He paused, his tone softening. "And I think Sirius is holding back. He wants to hunt him down, but he doesn't, just because I said I didn't want to. Like he's restraining himself for me, keeping his own anger locked away." He lowered his head. "And still, I don't want to worry my mother."
"Why do you think she worries?" Fleur asked with genuine curiosity, tilting her head slightly.
"Because she worked so hard to raise me right. She taught me about the good and the bad in the world so I wouldn't end up like others. I want her to be proud of me—of how she raised me. I don't want to lose control… or become a monster." Harry's hands tightened slightly. "Even now that I'm older, she keeps working for my future. I don't want to ruin that. I want to work just as hard for her."
Fleur stared at him for a few seconds in silence before smiling softly. "You really are an idiot," she said suddenly, shattering the heavy mood.
Harry looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Before worrying about not being your mother's pride anymore, maybe you should just ask her directly," Fleur said casually. "She'll listen to you, won't she? Because she helped me when I needed it. She helped me reconnect with my own mother. And you… you keep inventing pointless thoughts without hearing anyone else out."
Crossing her arms, she added with a teasing, defiant tone, "Ask Sirius what he really wants to do. Ask your mother what the true goal of her work is. And most importantly, ask yourself what you really want. Idiot. Big mama's boy."
She stood up gracefully, brushing the dust off her skirt with her usual elegance.
"Worrying so much—and worrying everyone around you—over something that has such a simple solution… honestly, such a child," she said with a mischievous smile, more teasing than cruel, before turning to leave.
Harry watched her go, a small laugh escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. Just then, his companions returned—the red dragon, Fluffy, the serpent, the unicorn, and the tiny fairy—all carrying new flowers, which they promptly dropped over his head.
"Enough, I'm fine now," Harry protested with a tired smile. But it was too late; he was already buried deeper than before. Red leaped on top of him with a soft growl of encouragement, and Fluffy followed suit, completely flattening him under their "affection."