Chapter 21
The Announcement
Monday dawned dark and drizzly in stark contrast to Harry's mood. The chill caused Fleur to draw him closer as they trudged toward the castle, and he took significant comfort from her warmth. They were still riding high on the events of the weekend, incredibly pleased that the wedding had gone so smoothly.
The night that followed was a bit less than perfect, but in retrospect, that was to be expected.
While the boys in the Gryffindor dormitory often had crude conversations about girls, they always seemed to speak in some kind of code. Harry had, of course, heard of sex – and the various crass colloquialisms that referred to it – but he honestly had no clue what the word actually meant. There were no adults in his life who would explain such things to him, and he was too embarrassed about it to ask anyone.
That left Fleur to do the honors, and he could honestly say that it was the most embarrassing conversation that he had ever endured. She caught him totally off-guard when she tried to undress him, and his sudden panic clued her in that he had no idea why she would do such a thing. She was patient with him, though, and while she was equally embarrassed, they somehow got through it.
He likely would have run were she anyone else.
They would rather have waited a while before having such an intimate encounter, but they could do nothing about it. Consummation of their marriage was required for the repayment of the life debt, so they had no choice. That said, he could not deny that he enjoyed the experience immensely, and while he was still a bit hesitant about intimate contact, he was looking forward to the next time.
And in the end, it was good for their relationship. Fleur was a remarkably gentle woman, a far cry from his impression of her when they first met, and the way she handled the matter earned his complete trust. There were few important secrets remaining between them – none that he could actually think of, in fact – and between that and the knowledge that she would always be there for him, he felt a deep sense of peace and contentment.
But that only lasted until they entered the Great Hall.
They were a bit late in arriving for breakfast because Sebastian had some last minute things to discuss with them before they returned to Hogwarts, and the silence that fell at their appearance made it clear that the morning paper had already arrived. An involuntary blush suffused Harry's cheeks at the scrutiny, and Fleur didn't fare much better. He wasn't looking forward to the next few days.
Urgent whispers erupted throughout the hall as they made their way to their usual place at the Gryffindor table. Hundreds of curious, jealous, or hateful gazes burned into him, and it was all he could do not to turn around and head for the kitchens so they could eat in peace. Sure, he knew it was coming, but that did not make the scrutiny any easier to bear.
By the time they sat down, the whispers had escalated into a cacophony of shouting voices – most of them female, he noticed. A number of students even stood up to get a better view of the happy couple. With a heavy sigh, Harry let his head fall to the table before he even had a chance to take in the sympathetic expressions most of his friends were wearing.
Fleur gently rubbed his back in a silent offering of comfort, for what little good it did.
"Cheer up, Harry," said Hermione softly. "They'll get over it eventually, just like they always do."
Harry picked his head up and speared her with a dark glare. "Easy for you to say," he groused. "You're not the one who has to deal with it."
Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed her copy of the Daily Prophetacross the table at him. "At least the article is good," she shrugged. "Could've been a whole lot worse."
"I can't believe you're doing press releases now," grumbled Ron. "What's next, autographed pictures?"
"Oh, honestly!" snapped Hermione. "What were they supposed to do, Ronald? We all know how accurate Skeeter's version would've been!"
Ron huffed, shook his head, and went back to stuffing his face with wild abandon. Harry was surprised that he was being so restrained; he had honestly expected him to blow up before now. While he still held out a modicum of hope that their friendship could be salvaged, it was really only a matter of time before Ron finally lost control – and something deep in his gut told him that there would be no coming back from it.
While Harry was distracted, Fleur snatched up the paper and unfolded it to read the headline story. Morbidly curious, he leaned up against her so he could follow along:
Boy-Who-Lived Weds Veela In Private Ceremony
by Jean-Claude Laurent
reprinted with permission from Le Journal Magique
translation by Lolita Wood
In a joint press release with Sebastian Alexandre Delacour, Director of Foreign Affairs for the French Ministry of Magic, Harry James Potter today announced his unexpected marriage. On Saturday, 20 March, Mr. Potter was joined in the eyes of Magic to Fleur Annalise Delacour, who is currently competing against him in the world-famous Triwizard Tournament.
This shocking announcement has taken the world by surprise. Why was Potter, who is decidedly underage, allowed to marry a woman three years older, who he has only just met? While some may decry this union for just that reason, it is quite clear that the intentions of all parties are indisputably honorable.
The release states that Mr. Potter's appearance with an unconscious Fleur Delacour at the end of the Second Task was not the coincidence that most believed it to be. Indeed, Miss Delacour was attacked by grindylows and would have been killed were it not for his timely intervention. Because of this selfless action, a life debt formed, owed to Mr. Potter.
The catch: the Beauxbatons Champion is of veela ancestry. As our more astute readers already know, veela magic would have eventually called the debt due. This would have stripped her of her magic and resulted in her untimely demise.
The only way to repay the debt was through marriage, and in Mr. Potter's own words, "there was no other choice." He therefore chose to sacrifice his future in order to preserve her life. He is a truly remarkable hero in our eyes.
But while many will fear for his future, there is a brighter side to the story. Several officials from the British and French Ministries of Magic were present at the event, and we spoke briefly with Madam Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement for Britain, who presided over the ceremony. She had this to say:
"I've seen Merlin's Blessing before, but never as powerful as it was between those two. It was the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed, and I can honestly say they have a bright future together. I've met with them on several occasions, and this is not a loveless marriage by any stretch of the imagination."
Yes, you read that correctly: the couple was granted Magic's rare blessing for their union, which is said to bring good fortune to the recipients. Others who were present indicated that, while Mr. and Mrs. Potter are still getting to know each other, they are remarkably close and very happy together.
Mr. Potter's long-time friend Hermione Granger (who was recently slandered in Britain's Daily Prophet for allegedly toying with his affections) said, "Harry is completely immune to Fleur's allure, and I've never seen him as happy as when he's with her. I honestly think it's a match made in Heaven. They have my full support."
We at Le Journal Magique [ed: and the Daily Prophet] call upon our readers to also throw their full support behind Mr. and Mrs. Potter. They have all the makings of one of the most influential couples in recent history, and we wish them the best.
[ed: The Potters have asked that the public refrain from sending gifts. As an alternative, Mr. Potter suggests donating in their name to the children's charity of your choice.]
Harry had to admit that the article was amazingly good. Given their treatment of the Tournament in general, he would have expected the Prophet to take potshots at Fleur at the very least. But as they read through the rest of the paper, which included a surprisingly accurate article about the veela life debt issue, there was nary a negative word to be found.
Before he could say as much, however, the relative peace at the table was interrupted by the last voice Harry wanted to hear.
"Will you join me in my office, Harry?"
The request was accompanied by Dumbledore's hand coming to rest on his shoulder, and he stiffened at the unwelcome contact. A surge of anger bubbled up within at the memory of what the man had done, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to fight it down. Even so, he did not miss Hermione's poorly-hidden look of concern.
They knew this was coming – the Headmaster wasn't likely to ignore it – but that didn't make it any less annoying. Fortunately, Sebastian had spent much of Sunday evening coaching them on how to handle the situation. It was time for Harry to play his part, as hard as that was going to be.
When he finally opened his eyes and rose from the table, he was aware of the scrutiny not only of his fellow students, but also of much of the staff as well. McGonagall in particular was watching through narrowed eyes, and that actually made him feel a bit better. She knew the situation in regards to his wife, and he was hopeful that she would come to his aid if need be.
Concern flooded Fleur's eyes as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. She knew that this would not be a pleasant encounter, but still remained silent, hiding her feelings as best she could. They couldn't afford for Dumbledore to find out that they were aware of the extent his manipulations – and it was going to be very hard to conceal it.
According to Sebastian, Dumbledore was a Master Legilimens.
"See you at lunch, belle femme," he offered quietly.
"I will be 'ere," she smiled.
Harry smiled back, and then turned to the Headmaster, taking care to keep his eyes averted. Direct eye contact was the key to Legilimency, and he did not want his thoughts read. There was no telling what would happen if the bastard figured out how much he knew. It wasn't a risk worth taking.
Dumbledore turned and set off at an unhurried pace, and Harry trailed his hand across Fleur's shoulders as he reluctantly followed. Sebastian had taught him some very basic mental exercises in preparation for learning Occlumency, and he made a point of employing them now. They would relax his mind and help to control his emotions; he could in no way afford to let on how angry he already was.
With luck, he wouldn't need to act after this meeting; it wasn't likely that the outcome would be in his favor, which would give him plenty of apparent reason to be mad at the old goat.
To Harry, the silence was thick and oppressive as they rode the staircase to the Headmaster's office, but he did his best to ignore it. As he entered, his eyes were immediately drawn to the beautiful phoenix on its perch at the side of the room. Ever since that first encounter, Harry had been quite fascinated with the creatures.
Ignoring the Headmaster for the moment, he made his way over. "Hello, Fawkes," he offered softly as he reached out to smooth the beautiful crimson feathers on the bird's back.
Fawkes trilled a bright note of welcome and cocked his head, examining Harry closely. Between the mental exercises and the calming presence of the phoenix, however, he was in for quite a surprise when he met the bird's curious gaze. It was subtle – almost undetectable – but he was certain that he felt a foreign presence slipping into his mind.
They locked gazes for a long moment before the presence receded.
Where a mental intrusion would have been thoroughly unwelcome from another human being, Harry didn't mind it so much from Fawkes. Phoenixes were purely light creatures, and he suspected that no phoenix would ever approve of what Dumbledore had done. Really, he wondered why Fawkes stayed with the man.
Fawkes chirped brightly and held out a talon to him, and realizing what he wanted, Harry smiled and offered an arm in return. Sure enough, the phoenix happily hopped aboard, letting out another pleased trill. Then he leaned forward and nuzzled Harry's cheek with obvious affection.
"Please have a seat, Harry," offered Dumbledore in a calm, grandfatherly tone.
Harry didn't bother to put Fawkes back on his perch – he was the perfect excuse not to make eye contact with the Headmaster – but he complied, moving to sit in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. He suspected that it was uncomfortable on purpose; an uncomfortable student was more likely to slip and reveal something.
Dumbledore watched impassively as Harry turned his attention back to the phoenix on his arm. Fawkes seemed to enjoy having the back of his neck scratched, occasionally turning one way or the other to offer a different spot. It made Harry smile a genuine smile; it was hard to be angry, sad, or depressed in the presence of a phoenix.
This went on for a few minutes before Dumbledore finally broke the silence.
"I was quite surprised that you had no reaction to the morning paper," he mused simply.
Harry merely shrugged in response.
Sebastian had advised him not to respond to open-ended statements; it was best to wait for an actual question, and only speak otherwise when necessary. The crash course he received from his father-in-law on handling Albus Dumbledore was surprising, mostly because Harry could identify all of the various tactics in their previous encounters. Sebastian's Pensieve saw quite a bit of use that evening as they reviewed them all.
Leading statements like that one, and the long silence before it, were Dumbledore's favorite methods of gaining information. But now that Harry was aware of it – and his memories had borne it out – he had no intention of falling for it ever again. Sebastian had drilled it into his head that he had no reason to worry, so it was therefore better to wait for a direct question, even if it might seem disrespectful.
And besides, he had absolutely no reason to discuss anything at all with the old goat. Albus Dumbledore was not his guardian and had no right whatsoever to pry into his personal business. In point of fact, his interest in Harry's life was highly inappropriate for a man in any of the positions he held.
His lack of response elicited a frown from Dumbledore that only deepened as the silence stretched. It would have been uncomfortable if not for Fawkes, but as it was, Harry was suitably entertained. Fawkes was in a playful mood, and obviously enjoyed the attention he was receiving.
Finally, though, after nearly a full minute of silence, Dumbledore gave up and spoke.
"I will contact the Daily Prophet for you this afternoon," he offered. "I'm certain they will be willing to retract the story, which should help you avoid the kind of attention you received this morning."
Harry's narrowed his eyes at his presumption, but forced himself to remain polite. "That won't be necessary, sir, but thank you anyway," he replied.
Dumbledore blinked in obvious surprise. "You plan to contact them yourself?" he asked skeptically. "You must be extremely cautious in your approach or they will only slander you further. I would very much prefer that you allow me to handle this for you given my experience in these matters."
Harry sighed internally and prepared himself for what was to come. It was impossible to tell if Dumbledore believed the article or was merely acting. Regardless, this was the beginning of what was sure to be a downward spiral for this meeting if his assessment of the man was correct.
That said, at least for the moment, he needed to play the part of not having anything against his Headmaster, at least until Dumbledore started pressing for information he wasn't entitled to. Only then would he be able to show some of his irritation with the man; it would be only natural as far as Dumbledore was concerned.
"I think you misunderstood me, Professor," he replied calmly. "I don't need to contact them because I don't have a problem with what they printed." Frowning slightly, he added, "I'm not exactly thrilled about announcing something we consider personal, but it was either that or risk having Skeeter get hold of it."
Dumbledore's eyes widened fractionally in surprise at his words, leading Harry to believe that he'd thought it just another flight of fancy on the part of the Daily Prophet. It was suddenly hard to keep a smirk off his face: the man was not so all-knowing as he would like to have everyone believe. He mentally scored a point for himself as he went back to petting Fawkes and waiting for the inevitable reaction.
It took a long moment for the Headmaster to recover, and then–
"I'm sorry," he said slowly, "but are you implying that you did indeed marry Miss Delacour?"
"Everything they printed was the truth, sir," shrugged Harry.
"I see," he said. But then his look turned calculating, which was cause for significant concern. "And where did the wedding take place?" he asked carefully.
Harry sighed and did his best to look regretful. "Sorry, sir," he said with a shake of his head, "Fleur and I agreed to only talk about what was in the press release."
Dumbledore frowned deeply at his response, and Harry quickly realized that this was where things would get ugly. Ignoring the silence that fell once again – the man was either slow, or hadn't figured out yet that the tactic would no longer work on him – he refocused on Fawkes and ran a finger along the crest atop his head. Fawkes closed his eyes at the gentle contact, clearly enjoying it.
"Harry, please look at me," requested Dumbledore quietly.
But Harry just shook his head again; he wasn't about to fall for that! "Sorry, sir," he said again. "I mean no disrespect, but I know you're a Legilimens, and I'm not comfortable with it until I can protect myself. I'm not real big on the idea of having someone else in my head after what happened to Ginny with the diary."
Dumbledore's grandfatherly mask actually cracked at his honest statement, and anger flashed in his eyes, though it was quickly hidden. Harry had no doubt now that the git had used it on him in the past, which was very disturbing. Exactly how much did he know about what they got up to in previous years?
How much did he know about the Dursleys?
He'd gone through many scenarios for neutralizing Dumbledore's Legilimency with Sebastian – it would be a while before he would have sufficient skill to block an ant, let alone the most powerful Wizard in the world – and in the end they decided on simply admitting that he was aware of it. Sebastian figured that the diary issue would deflect suspicion, and Harry agreed. While Dumbledore was a perceptive man, it was also readily apparent that he didn't truly understand the workings of a teenage mind.
The aging Headmaster steepled his fingers under his chin and nodded sagely, but Harry knew it was an act. The anger that broke through for that brief instant said it all. He had just lost one of his most useful weapons, and he was likely to be rather unhappy about it, regardless of how it appeared.
"I suppose that is understandable," he allowed quietly, "I must, however, insist on having the details of the situation."
Harry sighed deeply. "With all due respect, sir, it's not the school's business," he reminded him bluntly. "Our marriage is very personal to us, and we've already said far more than we ever wanted to say about it."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a stern edge. "You are underage, Mr. Potter," he said with surprising directness. "You cannot legally enter into marriage without permission from your guardians, and we both know that the Dursleys would never agree to it."
"I'm aware of the requirements, sir," said Harry simply. "I give you my word that our marriage is completely legal."
Silence descended once again in the wake of his statement, and Harry took to scratching Fawkes' belly while he waited for the next move. It was the truth, though, and all the man had to do to see it was look up their marriage license at the Ministry of Magic. Amelia had filed all the appropriate documents for them, so it was completely and perfectly legal – and besides, it couldn't be changed anyway due to the nature of marriage in the magical world.
The bond was permanent once formed.
Nearly two minutes passed before the Headmaster finally straightened in his chair, clearly perturbed that his efforts hadn't elicited the response he expected. And as he straightened, the grandfatherly image fell away, and Harry felt a small magical eddy emanating from him. He was apparently going to try intimidation now.
"I require your cooperation, Mr. Potter," he said sternly, drawing a surprised sort of look from Fawkes. "I cannot take the chance of inappropriate behavior occurring between yourself and Miss Delacour."
Harry's eyes involuntarily narrowed, and this time he didn't bother masking it. The man wouldn't take no for an answer, and that was cause enough to be annoyed with him. It was hard to have confidence in the face of someone so magically and politically powerful, but he gathered every last bit he had to his name. Powerful or not, the man was a criminal as far as he was concerned.
"Her name is Fleur Potter, Headmaster," he retorted. "And with all due respect, our marriage is none of your business. I won't answer questions about it."
Dumbledore's eyes likewise narrowed, and he leaned forward across the desk, still staring at Harry's ear. "Then I'm afraid I will have to restrict your movements," he warned.
Harry said nothing and simply waited for the hammer to fall. The man had no authority over him as far as his relationship with Fleur went, and if he actually tried to enforce such a punishment, it would bring far too much attention to his interference in Harry's life. It was likely an idle threat, and Harry had no intention of letting him win this particular battle.
After another full minute of silence, the Headmaster finally shook his head. "Very well, you leave me no choice," he said. "With the exception of class time, you are restricted to your dormitory, and you may not have visitors. Dobby will provide your meals."
To say that Harry was surprised at this declaration was an understatement, but it only delayed his anger for the briefest of moments. That was about as heavy-handed as he could possibly get! His entire argument about 'inappropriate behavior' was flimsy, too, considering that Fleur wasn't even a Hogwarts student and didn't live in Gryffindor Tower.
He couldn't help the color that rose in his cheeks, but he somehow managed to bite back his initial response, turning once again to his mental exercises. Eyes closed, he focused on the feel of Fawkes' feathers for a long moment as he forced his anger back. He needed to think rationally.
There was no possible way he would put up with this, and besides, the punishment couldn't be enforced without drawing attention, could it?
In fact...
"No, sir," he said firmly.
He opened his eyes to find that Fawkes was giving Dumbledore a dirty look, and had to suppress a morbidly amused snort. He'd never known that a bird was capable of that, but Fawkes' expression was beyond description. It was clear that he did notapprove – but either Dumbledore didn't see it, or he completely ignored it.
"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" he asked with a dangerous edge to his voice. "I don't believe I heard you correctly."
"You heard me perfectly, Headmaster," Harry countered without missing a beat. "My private business is exactly that, and I won't accept punishment for keeping it that way."
It came out more harshly than he intended, but he really didn't care. Dumbledore was pushing him quite hard, probably because there was very little he could actually do. A letter to the Board of Governors would have him in a world of hurt for a stunt like that.
And from the look on the man's face, it seemed that Harry's sudden rebellion caught him completely off-guard. Never before had Harry blatantly refused one of his requests – let alone an order – and he apparently had no idea what to do about it. It was interesting to watch.
But Harry was shocked when Dumbledore chose to play his trump card.
"Then I'm afraid that I will have to expel you," he said quietly. "I cannot have a student in this school who will not submit to my authority."
Harry couldn't help it this time: he snorted loudly.
That was an empty threat if he'd ever heard one! The Boy Who Lived, expelled from Hogwarts for no good reason? It would be a huge scandal! On top of that, there was no way the man would ever willingly let him leave: he needed him there so he could control him.
It was a great mystery why that was so, but Harry had no doubt that it was true. All that time spent in the Pensieve with the Delacours going over his school career bore it out. The man wanted to be in charge of his life for some strange reason – maybe because of the mysterious prophecy – and he wasn't about to let it continue.
In a moment of inspiration, Harry decided that turnabout might just be fair play in this instance, and he pushed abruptly to his feet before he could lose his nerve. It was an extreme gamble, but he had confidence in his estimate of the situation. The worst that could happen is that he would have to pay for private tutors, which would by no means be a problem.
"You know what?" he said conversationally. "You go right ahead, sir. I think I'll go find Madam Maxime. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have me as a student."
And with that, he turned and headed for the door, totally missing the look of abject horror that crossed Dumbledore's face.
By the time the man recovered, he was already gone.
Chapter 22
Contingency
In the wake of the confrontation, Harry left the castle as quickly as possible. Barely maintaining control – part of him was horrified by what he'd just done – he strode purposefully through the empty halls, desperate to escape. Anger and fear warred within, and he wouldn't be able to suppress them for much longer.
Fawkes rode out the trip unnoticed on his arm, swaying to and fro like some sort of avian surfer.
Harry was shaking uncontrollably by the time he reached the entrance hall. He paused just inside the enormous doors and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes against a torrent of raging emotion. He did his best to stifle it, but his efforts didn't come to much.
He was as shocked by his own actions as he was by the Headmaster's. Sebastian's coaching had allowed him a modicum of confidence, but not one of them had predicted that the man might go so far as to threaten expulsion. Idle or not, the threat worried him greatly: if Dumbledore was willing to go so far with his threats, what else was he willing to do?
Had they underestimated him?
Looking back, however, he could not see any other way he could have responded without giving in and revealing something. Planned or not, it was the right course of action near as he could tell, and now he had to deal with the consequences. It wasn't likely that the Headmaster would go through with it – they could ruin him if he did – but he still couldn't take the chance.
That meant he needed a contingency plan, and he berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. A transfer to Beauxbatons would have quite a few advantages, not least of which was the constant presence of his wife. When added to the fact that it would remove him from Dumbledore's control, he was surprised that none of them thought to consider it.
There was, of course, the language barrier to deal with, but that could be overcome with time.
But now he had to move quickly, and that meant he needed to get himself under control. It was much easier to hold his emotions at bay when faced with an active confrontation than it was to do so after the fact. He was almost certain that the encounter would add a new nightmare to his rather large collection; confronting Albus Dumbledore in any way was a terrifying prospect at best.
Closing his eyes, he did his best to focus on a single thought: an image of Fleur's beautiful face. He focused on it as best he could, but it failed to block out the rising tide of fear over his future. Perhaps it wasn't the best choice of image, given that his newest and most powerful fear was that his wife might be taken from him.
Just as he started getting frustrated with his inability to calm himself, however, a soft, soothing trill sounded, bringing him abruptly back to the present.
Harry opened his eyes, only to have them fall on Fawkes, and he immediately paled. He was so distracted when he left the office that he didn't even think to return the phoenix to its perch. While he was aware that humans couldn't command such creatures, he somehow doubted that Dumbledore would see it that way.
As though aware of his thoughts, Fawkes trilled soothingly once more, and then broke into full, quiet song. Harry's heart swelled at the amazing sound, and it assuaged his frayed nerves in that way that only the music of a phoenix could manage. It went on for several minutes, and he was much calmer and more collected when the creature finally fell silent again.
"Thanks, Fawkes," he whispered, reaching up to caress the bird's beautiful head.
Fawkes chirped happily at him and affectionately nuzzled his cheek.
Harry absently scratched the back of his friend's neck as he contemplated the situation. Going back to the Headmaster's office was the last thing he wanted to do, but he really hadn't the right to take the phoenix from his chosen domain. Then again, Fawkes could leave at any time, he supposed.
"Sorry about that," he said eventually, drawing the bird's curious gaze. "Guess I should've asked if you wanted to come with me?"
Fawkes ruffled his feathers as though to shrug it off, and then promptly flipped his head over and butted it up against Harry's hand. He couldn't help but smile at the creature's antics; it was certainly a pleasant distraction. Unfortunately, though, he had things to do, and he'd already wasted considerable time.
"I have to talk to Madam Maxime," he sighed as he tickled Fawkes beneath his chin. "You can come with me if you want, though. I like having you around."
Fawkes paused to look into his eyes again, and Harry had the distinct sense that he was being examined from the inside out. His feelings were still too chaotic at the moment to detect a foreign presence like he had earlier, but he suspected it was there nevertheless. The idea that phoenixes used a subtle form of Legilimency was a common myth, and after today, Harry believed it to be true.
Their staring match lasted only briefly from an outside perspective, and then Fawkes broke away and chirped brightly at him. Harry watched with a bemused smile as the bird proceeded to climb cautiously up his arm to take up a position on his shoulder. He couldn't help but lean his cheek against the creature's warm feathers; it was remarkably comforting.
"Right, then," he sighed, finally pushing off the wall and setting course for the Beauxbatons accommodations. "I really hope you're not offended by all this, Fawkes," he offered quietly, "but I honestly don't know why you stay with him. I never thought I'd see the day I would threaten to leave Hogwarts."
Fawkes trilled sadly, but Harry detected a note of question there, and shrugged noncommittally. "I'll tell you about it later," he offered, hoping he was interpreting the sound correctly. "It's a really long story."
The phoenix bumped his head against Harry's cheek and then settled down, leaning into him slightly and falling silent. For his part, Harry turned his attention to his next task, and once again did his best to go through his mental exercises. Fawkes had a remarkable ability to keep him calm, but he couldn't afford to slip on the off chance that Maxime was just as bad as Dumbledore.
He knew nothing about her beyond what Fleur told him, and her comments were noncommittal at best. The woman had more or less tricked her into the Tournament – not unlike Dumbledore, albeit Fleur actually had a choice – and it gave him pause. That said, it was the only negative thing she had to say about her, so she might not be so bad.
He knocked on the carriage door when they arrived, and it was opened by an older boy whose eyes widened when he caught sight of Fawkes. For once, Harry's fame was not the first thing on someone's mind.
"Is the Headmistress available?" he asked politely. "I need to speak with her."
The boy's eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged and gestured for Harry to enter. His demeanor was not terribly friendly, but that wasn't surprising. The one thing he would probably dislike if he actually had to go through with it was that the Beauxbatons students liked him about as much as they liked Fleur, and maybe less. It was a sobering thought.
Maxime's office was at the very end of a long hall, and the door opened to reveal the woman herself sitting behind an enormous oak desk. Even given the size of it, however, she still dwarfed it; he thought she might be a bit bigger even than Hagrid, which was saying something. Used to Hagrid's bulk, however, Harry didn't find it all that intimidating.
She looked up and went wide-eyed when she caught sight of him.
"Monsieur Potter?" she queried. "What can I do for you?"
Harry glanced briefly at the boy who was still standing beside him, unabashedly eavesdropping. "Could we talk privately, ma'am?" he requested politely. "I have something I need to discuss with you."
Her gaze turned speculative, and she nodded at him before turning to his guide. "Zat will be all, Olivier," she told him sternly. Then she turned back to Harry and added, "Please come in and close ze door."
The boy – now looking rather disgruntled – turned and headed back the way he came, and Harry followed Maxime's instructions. The office was sparsely furnished, but he supposed it wasn't that surprising since it was only a temporary accommodation. It was tasteful in any event, and not nearly as cluttered as Dumbledore's was.
He was aware of the woman's scrutiny falling on Fawkes as he surveyed his surroundings, but decided to ignore it. His nerves were kicking up again: he needed to handle this conversation carefully. A lot was riding on it.
"Please, 'ave a seat," she offered finally. Harry did so, and she studied him curiously for a moment before asking, "What is zis about?"
Harry took the opportunity study her in return. She seemed friendly enough, and was definitely curious as to what he had to say. He harbored no illusions that she would be completely altruistic, however; while he wasn't big on his fame, he was aware that he was something of a prize to most people.
Her brow furrowed in concern at his continued silence, and finally he spoke up. "I mean no disrespect, ma'am," he said slowly, "but will you give me your word that this will stay between us? It's a bit sensitive."
One bushy eyebrow went up, but it didn't take her long to decide. "Oui," she agreed. "I zink zat is reasonable. You 'ave my word, Monsieur Potter."
Harry smiled faintly. "Thank you," he said simply.
Shifting in his seat, Harry took a moment more to order his thoughts. She would doubtless be curious as to why he wanted this, and while he could easily use Fleur as an excuse, he didn't think it was a wise idea. She needed to be aware that she might have to fight Dumbledore for it, otherwise it could catch her off guard and ruin everything if it came to that.
Apparently sensing the gravity of his mood, she waited patiently for him to speak.
Finally, having decided on a course of action, he sighed and met her gaze directly. "The Headmaster just threatened to expel me," he told her bluntly, causing a look of shock to roll over her features. "If you have a pensieve, it would probably be best if I just show you the conversation. It'll explain quite a bit. I'm hoping it's a bluff, but if it isn't, then with your permission I'd like to apply at Beauxbatons."
Stunned by his statement, Maxime stared at him for a long moment, clearly at a loss for words. Harry couldn't blame her; absent what he now knew about Albus Dumbledore, he would probably feel the same way. The man's true nature was extremely well hidden most of the time.
"I will need to retrieve one," she said after a moment. "If you will wait 'ere?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Still reeling, Maxime stood and moved to the fireplace, threw a pinch of powder in, and disappeared into the flames. It was a promising start – she was at least willing to listen – but Harry was still apprehensive. What would she think of his handling of the Headmaster?
Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he offered his arm to Fawkes, and the phoenix happily accepted. For the next ten minutes he showered the bird with attention; it was very relaxing, and kept him calm. That Fawkes so obviously enjoyed it was just a bonus.
"I meant to thank you earlier," he mused quietly after a while. "You really helped me in Dumbledore's office."
Fawkes disengaged from his human scratching post for a moment, looked up at him, chirped happily, and promptly went back to enjoying himself. Harry chuckled quietly; Hedwig didn't allow him to do this sort of thing – she was a rather vain owl – and he was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. It almost made him want another pet, but no mere pet could come close to Fawkes.
Maxime returned after nearly twenty minutes, much of which was probably travel time based on Harry's few experiences with international Floo connections. She was carrying a round bowl with markings that were very similar to the ones on Sebastian's rectangular one. Harry was quite curious about these devices; they appeared to be somewhat rare, but common for people in powerful positions.
She set it gingerly on the desk and retook her seat. "Zis should do, non?" she asked pleasantly.
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. Drawing his wand, he added, "May I?"
The Headmistress just motioned for him to get on with it, which he did. He drew the memory beginning in the Great Hall with Dumbledore's arrival; that would show her that she hadn't missed anything. After dropping it in the bowl, however, he paused for a moment.
"Erm, mind if I sit this out?" he asked tentatively. "I was really angry when I left, and I'd rather not see it again right now."
Maxime studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I will return shortly," she finally said.
She then stuck her finger into the bowl, and her body stilled as she viewed the memory. Patience wasn't a problem for Harry – spending days at a time in a dark cupboard made this look trivial by comparison – but nerves, on the other hand, were. It was only Fawkes' continued attention that allowed him to get through it without getting up and pacing.
And when the Headmistress finally came back to herself, Harry cringed away from the anger emblazoned on her features.
He watched her warily as she closed her eyes and reigned herself in, and it was a nerve-wracking experience for him. Sure, she was probably angry with Dumbledore – he'd very clearly crossed a line – but it was also possible that she was angry with him. His past would not allow him to discount that possibility so easily.
Fawkes' head swiveled back and forth between them a few times, and then he let out a single, liquid note that calmed them both considerably.
"I see your predicament, Monsieur Potter," she scowled after a moment. "Zere was no excuse for such punishment!"
Harry winced and nodded his agreement. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly. "He's always had an interest in me, and I can only guess at why. I don't think he likes being in the dark."
Her enormous head turned away from him, and she stared off into the distance for a long moment. For his part, Harry internally sighed in relief. At least her anger was directed where he wanted it.
"You are fourth form?" she asked distractedly.
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "I'm not sure how that compares with what you teach, though, and our Defense instruction hasn't been very good."
Maxime looked back at him and frowned. "'ow so?" she wondered.
Harry couldn't help his snort. "Our first-year professor was possessed by Voldemort," he deadpanned. "Second year was Gilderoy Lockhart, and he was just useless. It's only the last two years we've had decent professors, and Moody's okay, but I don't think he's teaching what we're supposed to learn this year."
Maxime's eyes widened when he mentioned the Dark Lord by name, but she showed no other sign of concern. She slowly nodded as she digested it, and Harry crossed his fingers under the desk. As he waited for her to continue, though, he pondered the thought of hiring a Defense tutor: Merlin only knew how useful it would be given the trouble he so often found himself in.
Finally, after a long moment of silence, the woman reached into a drawer and drew out a piece of parchment. Snatching up a quill from her desk, she read down it, writing things in as she went. Harry could only deduce that it was some kind of form.
When she put the quill down, she finally focused in on him, her expression serious. "You understand zat we do not teach classes in Eenglish?" she warned.
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "I don't know a lot of French right now, but I'm learning. I figure if I have to take classes in it I'll pick it up right quick."
For the first time, he saw a glimmer of amusement on the woman's face. "Your wife is teaching you?" she asked with a knowing smile.
But Harry just chuckled and shook his head at her. "She thinks I'm learning terms of endearment," he confided with a wry smile. "My friend Hermione is almost fluent though, and I figure I'll pick the rest up from my family."
Maxime let out a laugh at this. "Fleur will be pleased," she smiled, and then she sobered again and slid the parchment over to him. "I am more zan willing to offer you a position in Beauxbatons," she informed him. "Zis is your acceptance letter. If Albus is truly so foolish as to expel you, zen you must only come. I will arrange ze exams at zat time."
"Thank you, ma'am," he breathed. "I really appreciate this."
"You are married to one of my favorite students, Monsieur Potter," she smiled. "I could do no less. Will Fleur be joining you in ze castle until zen?"
Harry blushed when he understood what she was asking. "We haven't talked about it yet," he frowned. "I don't think Dumbledore would allow it, though."
"Zen you will stay 'ere in her suite," she declared. "It is only proper, and zere is plenty of room."
"Thank you again, ma'am," he said with honest appreciation. "Fleur will be thrilled I think."
The woman smiled at him, and then she finally got around to asking him about Fawkes. That led to a viewing of the Chamber of Secrets incident – like everyone else who saw it, Maxime was appalled that it happened in a school – and from there they went into a number of other aspects of Harry's life at Hogwarts. The conversation lasted for another hour, and was actually quite enjoyable.
By the time Harry left her office, he was much less concerned about the future. He had options now, and Dumbledore had little to no control over him. Part of him was tempted to take her up on the transfer right away, but he resisted the impulse; he at least needed to learn the language first, and he really did like Hogwarts as a whole.
But if push came to shove, he had a fallback plan, and he would sleep a lot better for it.
Chapter 23
New Digs
It didn't take long for Harry to realize just how badly Dumbledore had miscalculated with his threat, and to say that he was pleased would be an understatement. All he had to do now was say the word and he would be out from under the old man's thumb, the Tournament notwithstanding. Everything else was merely timing.
Barring active magic, Dumbledore could no longer legally hurt him.
By the time he made his way to Fleur's suite, he was smiling widely. He knocked on the door, and to his surprise, was greeted by Hermione when it opened. The girl stared in shock at Fawkes, having never seen a phoenix before. Harry, for his part, was feeling bold enough that he actually reached out and gave her a brief hug, which shocked her even more thoroughly.
Fleur rose gracefully to her feet when she saw him, and her eyes bulged when they landed on Fawkes. "Is zat–" she breathed. "Is zat a phoenix?"
"Yup," grinned Harry, enjoying her reaction. "Fleur, meet Fawkes. Fawkes, allow me to introduce my beautiful wife, Fleur. And this is my best friend, Hermione Granger."
Fawkes trilled happily at Hermione, making her smile, and then made the brief flight to Fleur's shoulder. He craned his neck to stare into her eyes for a very long moment – she stared back wide-eyed – before finally letting out another cheerful trill and nuzzling her the same way he liked to do to Harry. A smile slowly spread on her features, and she reached up to gently scratch him.
"Magnifique! Je suis tellement heureux de vous rencontrer, Fawkes!"
Hermione smiled at her reaction and moved to give Fawkes a scratch as well, just as awed by him. How could one not be? The bird exuded warmth, comfort, and a sense of utter rightness, and between that and his happy disposition, it was impossible not to like him.
"I take it the meeting went better than you thought?" asked Hermione hopefully.
Harry shook himself out of his vain attempt to translate Fleur's French, and his expression dimmed. "Worse, actually," he corrected. "I just forgot I had Fawkes with me when I stormed out. I reckon he can stay if he wants, I think he was bored up there."
Fawkes suddenly flapped his wings and trilled a victorious trill at the statement, almost as though he was thrilled that someone had finally noticed. Harry's smile rapidly reappeared; it was hard to be angry or sad in Fawkes' presence for too terribly long.
"Well, you're always welcome, Fawkes," he grinned. "And if we're not around, there's always our friends, like Hermione here. I doubt they'll refuse you, and they're pretty fun."
Fawkes trilled another cheerful trill, gracefully lifted off from Fleur's shoulder with a great flap of his wings, and in a flash of fire, he was gone.
Harry blinked.
"Did I misinterpret him?" he wondered.
"Zen I did as well," frowned Fleur with a shake of her head.
"Maybe the Headmaster called him back," suggested Hermione.
But then there was another, much larger flash, and Harry's eyes bugged out at what he saw: Fawkes was back, carrying his perch. He stared as the bird flew to a conveniently empty corner and carefully deposited it before settling down and sending a questioning trill to Harry. He was stunned by this behavior, and had no idea what to think.
"Er, it's fine, Fawkes," he said faintly. "I'm just surprised is all."
Fawkes trilled happily and adopted what Harry could swear was a smug expression. Harry's smile returned, and it was growing by the second: not only was he genuinely thrilled to have Fawkes around, but Dumbledore would go spare. This would drive him up the proverbial wall!
The silence continued for a long moment while everyone stared at the overly cheerful phoenix, and then–
"Okay, tell us what happened, Harry," urged Hermione suddenly.
Harry abruptly lost his smile, and a wave of mental exhaustion hit him, though it quickly passed. He rubbed his face, his irritation with the old man bubbling to the surface again. Finally, he motioned everyone over to the couch; this was going to take a while, and he supposed he might as well get the worst out of the way up front.
"He decided to expel me," he said darkly once they were all seated.
Hermione's eyes grew to the size of tennis balls and she bounced back to her feet in obvious alarm. "WHAT?!" she screeched.
Fleur, on the other hand, eyed him critically for a moment, and though she was clearly concerned, she did not initially react. Then, suddenly, she stood and moved to the shelf where they'd left her father's Pensieve after the twins were done collecting memories for use against Snape. She brought it back to the table and set it down, and turned a solemn look on him.
"Show us," she ordered.
And so he did.
And the girls were roaring with laughter by the time the memory ended.
"Oh, Harry!" breathed Hermione, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was priceless! Your reaction was so perfect!"
"Oui," grinned Fleur. "I do not think 'e expected you to be so... unafraid?"
Harry chuckled along with them. Seeing it from that perspective, it was quite amusing. True, he was still worried about what might happen now, but their good humor was infectious, and he couldn't help but share in it.
"It gets better," he smirked after a moment. "I talked to the Headmistress on my way here, and I have a place at Beauxbatons if I want it." And then he paused hesitantly, and looked up at Fleur with his heart in his eyes. "And I can live here now, if you'll have me," he added softly.
Fleur's eyes bulged, and then she graced him with a blinding smile – but he only caught a brief glimpse of it before she suddenly engulfed him in a warm, heartfelt hug. "I 'am so 'appy!" she breathed. "Of course I will 'ave you!"
Harry relished her reaction. It was amazing having people who actually loved him, and who wanted him around like this. Hermione was only a distant second in that respect: he had no doubt that she cared deeply for him, but it wasn't the same as the way Fleur and her family felt. Otherwise she would have visited him on Privet Drive long ago...
He wasn't angry about that – he hadn't exactly told anyone the truth about the place – but the fact remained. Life debt or no, the Delacours had gone out of their way not just to welcome him, but to help him through his immense number of problems. He doubted that he could ever truly repay them.
Finally Fleur pulled away again, and her expression turned more serious.
"We must tell Papa of zis," she mused. "'E must know 'ow far zat batard is willing to go."
Harry nodded his agreement. "He'll get a kick out of the memory," he shrugged. "I just hope I haven't tipped our hand too much."
"But what will you do about school?" fretted Hermione. "He didn't actually expel you, he just told you he would."
Harry shrugged, having thought of that already. "Simply put?" he asked. "I'll move in here and keep going to class in the castle until he kicks me out. He won't dare, though, and like the Headmistress said, he can't afford to say anything about my living arrangements for the same reason. I'd just transfer, and he can't stop it from happening."
===[~]===
The conversation continued for hours as they discussed plans and possible repercussions. Harry was surprised that Hermione was taking it as well as she was; in retrospect, he would have expected that she would explode when he mentioned the possibility of transferring. Then again, she would probably just join him; she would adore the opportunity to get an education abroad.
When they arrived for dinner that night, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found, which was something of a relief. Fawkes, however, had elected to join them – and he drew incredulous stares from almost every student in the Hall. Harry put it down to fact that they'd probably never seen a real phoenix before, until–
"Way to make an entrance, Harrykins!" gushed Fred.
"Couldn't have done it better ourselves!" agreed George.
"First the veela, and now a phoenix?"
"Don't forget the other girl, Fred."
"Right, and Hermione, too?"
"Three birds at once!"
"And they're all hot!"
"Way to go!" they chorused.
Harry snorted at their antics, and tried to ignore the way Ron's expression dimmed, his jealousy flaring once more. For someone who had so recently used Harry's fame to bolster his own, he was awfully intolerant when Harry got more attention. Worse, it wasn't like he actually tried for it, let alone liked it: he was famous before he could even speak!
But alas, there was nothing he could do about his friend's discontent unless he wanted to fight, which he didn't. He had too many other problems that were far more important. Ron was just going to have to deal, so Harry ignored him.
"Everyone, this is Fawkes," he smiled instead. Then he turned to the phoenix. "Fawkes, meet Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, Fred and George Weasley, and of course you already know Ron Weasley."
Ron scowled at the introduction for some reason, and Fawkes clattered around on the tabletop to greet everyone while Harry and Fleur watched with open amusement. But then Fawkes spotted the twins. Apparently they'd spent some time in the Headmaster's office, because he clearly knew who they were.
Harry was surprised when he hopped up between them, putting one foot on each of their shoulders. The twins were equally as surprised as everyone else, and they grinned at his antics – he could barely balance and was swaying almost drunkenly – but Harry saw him doing something with his talons. And then, quite suddenly, he burst into flame and vanished.
Harry stared in astonishment as the Great Hall erupted in laughter.
Fawkes had grabbed their shirts and flamed away with them. A slow smile spread across his face as he stared at their stunned, bare-chested forms, and a moment later, Fawkes reappeared on Fleur's shoulder, snickering quietly to himself. And then Fleur started in.
"Not bad, I suppose," she frowned. "But I think zat I like 'Arry's chest much better."
Harry blushed, and everyone had a good laugh at that. Deciding to avoid that conversation entirely, though, he turned to Fawkes instead. "So, Marauding phoenix?" he asked bemusedly.
Fawkes chirped brightly at him.
Harry smirked evilly. "Remind me later," he chuckled. "We'll get Padfoot and Moony."
Fawkes sat up a bit straighter, an interested gleam appearing in his inky black eyes.
It was only then that Harry realized that Fawkes had ignored Ron when he made the rounds, and now would not so much as look at him. That was a bad sign, but Harry put it – along with Ron's continued grumbling – from his mind for the moment. His attitude was becoming supremely annoying, but Harry truly didn't want to deal with it right now.
Soon everyone settled down, and as the conversation continued, Fawkes wandered the table and kibitzed with Harry's friends in his own unique way. Eventually, though, as everyone started to load their plates, he seemingly decided that his job was done. He hopped up on Fleur's shoulder and settled in to beg grapes from whoever happened to have one in their hand at the time.
Harry was actually surprised that the the bird was so social. He had been holed up in Dumbledore's office for who knew how long, and so far as Harry was aware, they were – until now at least – the only students to ever meet him. He certainly wasn't well known in Hogwarts, which was odd when one thought about it given that he was thought to be the Headmaster's familiar.
Harry supposed it was really no wonder that Fawkes wanted out of that boring tower, now that he considered it.
Halfway through dinner, Madame Maxime caught his eye, winked at him, and inclined her head slightly at the door. Harry nodded back; if he understood correctly, then Dumbledore had just entered the Hall. This was going to be interesting.
And sure enough, not thirty seconds later–
"Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore in one of his sterner tones, "I think it time that you return Fawkes to my office."
Fawkes, who was still sitting calmly on Fleur's shoulder, turned and stared neutrally back at the Headmaster, while Harry quirked an eyebrow. It was awfully presumptuous on Dumbledore's part. He didn't know if the man had ever truly been good, but if he had, then he'd forgotten an awful lot, especially about phoenixes.
Harry reached around Fleur to gently stroke the bird's neck, which drew his attention to him. "Do you want to go back, Fawkes?" he asked quietly.
Fawkes squawked and shook his head vehemently, and Dumbledore paled at the gesture.
Harry, meanwhile, turned to look in the old man's general direction, but made sure to keep his eyes averted. "Sorry, Professor," he shrugged. "I think Fawkes goes where he wants, and as my friend, he's welcome here any time he likes."
Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, and then– "Why are you doing this, Harry?" he asked in a pained voice.
He sounded deeply hurt and disappointed, but he couldn't keep his anger out of his eyes, obvious for all who knew to look. Harry's defiance, along with Fawkes' apparent abandonment of him, was getting under his skin. If things kept up this way, it probably wouldn't be long before the man's composure gave out, which would probably be a good thing in the long run, albeit initially painful.
And with that thought in mind, Harry purposefully misinterpreted the question. "It's Fawkes' choice, sir, not mine," he shrugged.
Dumbledore stared for a moment before apparently realizing that Harry had a point. "Very well," he scowled. And then he tossed a betrayed look at the beautiful phoenix, and stalked off to the teacher's table, where Maxime awaited him with a broad smirk.
Harry rather thought he looked like a petulant child.