"Hello Fleur," Harry replied, managing a polite smile despite his surprise. "It's good to see you too. How have you been? And how's your sister, Gabrielle, doing?" He noticed her English had improved quite a bit since the tournament; she still had her charmingly heavy accent, but she could pronounce most of the words clearly now.
The French girl beamed at him, her Veela allure practically shimmering in the Parisian sunlight. "I am doing very well, 'Arry, and so iz my sister. Though, you should be careful," she added, a mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes. "She 'as recently 'it puberty, and you are still very much ze target she wishes to sink 'er claws into. You know 'er little crush on you only got worse after ze tournament."
Harry shifted uncomfortably at the thought. He had no doubt that Gabrielle would grow up to be just as breathtakingly beautiful as her older sister, but he seriously doubted he would ever see her as anything more than the little girl he'd rescued from the lake. The idea was just… weird.
"Ah," he said, trying for a light tone. "Maybe I should… stay away from France for the time being then." He paused, then gestured towards Ciri. "Anyways. Fleur, this is Ciri. Ciri, this is Fleur. Ciri is a friend of mine who I've been showing around. I wanted her to see some more magical landmarks and places that aren't, you know, in Britain." He gave Fleur a subtle, meaningful look, trying to convey that he hadn't exactly filled Ciri in on the whole messy "British wizarding world situation" just yet.
Fleur, perceptive as ever, seemed to understand immediately. She turned to Ciri with a warm, welcoming smile. "Bonjour Ciri! It iz so nice to meet another friend of 'Arry's," Fleur said, extending her hand. She shook Ciri's hand politely but with a surprising amount of energetic enthusiasm.
"It's nice to meet you as well," Ciri replied, her tone polite but with an undercurrent of something else. "I had the distinct impression that Harry didn't really have any other friends. Must be hiding them away in Britain with the rest of his secrets." She shot a pointed, snarky glare at Harry, letting him know, loud and clear, that she was very much aware he was still holding things back from her.
"Oh my," Fleur exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked from Ciri to Harry and back again. "Quite ze spirited new friend you 'ave 'ere, 'Arry! I like 'er already! Perhaps she can actually be ze one to reign you in. It would be quite a feat, I imagine, but she looks like she is up to ze task!" Both Harry and Ciri's faces promptly lit up a rather brilliant shade of red at Fleur's teasing comment.
"Yes, well, we're more of… just good friends, really. Right, Ciri?" Harry stammered, looking desperately at the ashen-haired girl for some backup.
"Yes, very much so, thank you very much," Ciri responded quickly, a little too earnestly perhaps. "Good friends. That's all."
Fleur covered her mouth with a delicate hand, but it did little to hide the clear sound of her laughter. "You two are so alike, it's uncanny! Why don't you both join me for lunch? It 'as been far too long, 'Arry, and we really need to catch up properly!" Before either of them could protest further, Fleur was gently but firmly ushering them towards the nearest charming little outdoor cafe, chattering away happily.
The lunch, despite Harry's initial apprehension, was actually very nice and surprisingly peaceful. He occasionally caught a glimpse of what he suspected were reporters out of the corner of his eye, their cameras flashing discreetly from a distance, but he pointedly ignored them. Fleur was a surprisingly good host, making a conscious effort to keep Ciri involved in the conversation. She seemed to particularly enjoy regaling Ciri with tales of some of Harry's more… memorable fourth-year exploits, which Ciri, in turn, seemed to find terribly impressive for a fourteen-year-old.
"I simply can't believe you had to go up against a dragon!" Ciri exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "At fourteen! That's utterly ludicrous!"
Fleur nodded in solemn agreement, while Harry just tried to downplay the whole thing, as usual. "It wasn't that big of a deal, really," he grumbled, stirring his drink. "I didn't do much. I just… flew away from it, to be honest."
"He says zat," Fleur commented dryly, a smirk playing on her lips, "as if it were ze most natural thing in ze world to simply outfly a nesting mother dragon." Ciri seemed to be quite amused by his attempts at modesty too.
"Honestly, Harry," Ciri exclaimed, giving him a playful nudge. "It's okay to feel some pride in your accomplishments, you know! You don't have to be so ridiculously modest about everything!" Harry just rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
"And I 'ear," Fleur added, her eyes twinkling innocently, "zat you got into quite a few… adventures, shall we say, even before your fourth year as well. Something about a basilisk, when you were only twelve, I believe?"
Harry shot Fleur a glare that could have curdled milk. The older girl was deliberately adding fuel to the fire that was Ciri's growing fascination with his past.
"A Basilisk?" Ciri repeated, her head snapping towards Harry. "What is it with you and going up against giant, deadly draconids, you suicidal imbecile?" She punctuated her question by landing a surprisingly sharp punch on his arm for his perceived stupidity.
"Ouch! Hey!" Harry protested, rubbing his arm. "I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter! The damn thing took my friend. Plus," he added, trying to clarify, "you're probably thinking about the Basilisks of old legends, the ones that were flying reptiles with a rooster's head and all that. The Basilisk here, in our world, is a giant magical snake. They can grow up to eighty feet in length, and can be about seven to ten feet high."
Ciri's eyes practically bulged out of her head at that description. "And you attacked it?!" she almost yelled. Harry had, by this point, long since had the foresight to quietly erect a silencing ward around their table, so they wouldn't attract any more weird looks from the other patrons than they already were.
"Well, like I said," Harry reiterated, trying to sound reasonable, "it had my friend. What was I supposed to do?"
"If I remember my 'istory correctly," Fleur added, her voice still dripping with that infuriatingly innocent tone, "Basilisks are rather infamous for 'aving ze strongest venom in ze magical world, second only to ze Nundu, I believe. As well as possessing a gaze zat can kill you instantly if you make direct eye contact with it."
Harry's glare towards Fleur intensified, hot enough to melt iron. "Fleur!" he hissed, his voice tight with exasperation. Fleur just looked back at him, all wide-eyed innocence. Harry buried his face in his hands with a groan.
Ciri was just looking at him, completely gobsmacked, her jaw practically on the tabletop. Then, a look of sudden, dawning horror crossed her face. "That… that big scar on your arm," she said slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "You told me you got it from a snake bite."
Fleur's face also devolved into a mask of horror as the implication hit her. Harry gulped, feeling a sudden chill despite the warm Parisian air. This was not going well.
"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly. "That… that would have been from the Basilisk. But, before either of you say anything else," he added hastily, seeing the storm gathering in their eyes, "a phoenix healed me almost immediately with its tears, so I'm all good now! Perfectly fine!"
That had been approximately five minutes ago. They had yet to stop hitting him, kicking him under the table, and calling him an absolute, certifiable idiot.
"Ouch! Ladies, come on! I get the point! I really do! Won't do it again, I promise! Please, stop, I think I feel blood!" Harry yelped, trying to fend off their combined assault.
They probably would have continued their well-deserved barrage if, at that exact moment, a majestic phoenix hadn't flamed directly onto their table in a burst of golden fire. All sounds of violence, and Harry's complaints about said violence, stopped instantly.
Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was looking directly at Harry, and Harry was doing everything in his power not to glare back at the bird with open hostility. He saw the familiar, rolled-up parchment the phoenix was carrying clutched in its beak.
"Take it back," Harry told the bird, his voice as calm and even as he could manage. "I don't want it."
Fawkes just continued to stare at him, its intelligent eyes unwavering.
"Even if you leave it with me, I won't read it," Harry stated flatly. "I couldn't care less what that manipulative old man has to say. I will not return."
Fawkes, seemingly unfazed, dropped the letter onto the table directly in front of him. The phoenix gave him one last, long, meaningful look, then disappeared in another brilliant ball of flame, leaving only the faint scent of cinnamon and ash behind.
Harry glared at the offending note in stony silence for a long moment. Then, with a sigh of pure exasperation, he picked it up, and with a muttered, low-powered Incendio, lit it on fire, watching it curl and blacken into ash.
"You're really not going to read it?" Ciri asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern. "What if it says something important?"
"It doesn't," Harry said darkly, his good mood thoroughly soured. "It's just the usual guilt trip, trying to manipulate me into coming back. Same old story."
Fleur looked at him, her usual lightheartedness gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness in her deep blue eyes. "'Arry," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I am, and I always will be, your friend. But you cannot run from zis forever."
"I'm not running," Harry retorted, his anger flaring. "I'm just… not participating. I don't see why I should suddenly drop everything and rush off to help the same bloody sheep who were so quick, so willing, to throw me out to the wolves the second I tried to warn them about what was coming. Now that I'm suddenly proven right, now they all want to jump back on my bandwagon? Screw them! I will not put my life on the line again for people who clearly aren't worth it."