Chapter 31
Conversations
Fleur sat quietly at the dinner table at Chateau Dealcour eating with her family — or rather, trying to. In truth, she was too busy fretting over Harry's condition. Her stunner was a bit more powerful than she thought; he was still out, and the only place she wanted to be was by his side.
Upon reaching the suite, she had convinced Fawkes to take them home. The simple fact was that Hogwarts was an increasingly toxic environment for him, and she wanted him to wake up someplace much more welcoming. She was concerned that even the smallest mishap might cause him to finally break, and she wasn't willing to risk it.
And so she unilaterally decided that they would start their Easter vacation a bit early.
"Cheer up, darling," urged her mother, speaking in their native tongue since Harry wasn't in the room. "You did the right thing. He'll be fine."
Fleur sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not so sure, Maman," she said quietly. "He's been through far too much in too short a time. I don't think he can take much more."
"Have faith, Fleur," suggested her father. "'Arry is strong. He'll get through it."
"What happened to 'Arry?" frowned her sister innocently.
"He had a problem with a friend, Garbrielle," she explained. "Don't ask him about it or it may hurt him."
The little girl narrowed her eyes at her from across the table. Her thoughts were written plainly on her face: she adored Harry, and she wanted him to be okay. Fleur suspected that he wouldn't be able to shake her all holiday – and somehow, she couldn't see it as a bad thing.
"I want to see him!" she declared.
"He's asleep," Fleur said with a shake of her head. "You can see him soon, but don't be surprised if he is not very friendly. It's not your fault, okay?"
A cute crinkle appeared in the little girl's forehead as she tried to make sense of it, and it made Fleur smile in spite of herself. Oh, to be so innocent again! She could barely remember what it was like before the allure kicked in and caused all sorts of problems for her. Before she was married... Before the world was after her husband, whom she loved very much...
Oh, had life gotten complicated!
Shaking herself out of her melancholy – even with all that, she wouldn't trade him for the world – she finally forced herself to eat. The memory of his condition when she found him in the suite was enough to tie her stomach in knots, and it made for a very small appetite, but she would need her strength. She had no idea what to expect when he woke, and it was only Fawkes' presence with him that allowed her to leave.
And then dinner was finally cleared away, and in the middle of dessert, she received a surprise when she sensed his presence in the doorway. She turned to see him standing there, blinking bemusedly, with Fawkes nestled up against the side of his head, which he didn't seem to notice. He looked like hell, the way his hair was mussed and his clothing wrinkled.
His gaze scanned the table, and even as Gabrielle was pushing out of her seat, finally landed on Fleur.
"Fleur?" he called in a soft, hoarse voice. "What happened?"
"'Arry!" gushed Gabrielle, and she flew at him. She barreled into him with significant force, catching him off guard, and he went over in a heap on the floor. The upset dislodged Fawkes, who squawked indignantly and flew to Fleur. Gabrielle started babbling away so rapidly in French that even her own family could not understand her.
"Gabrielle?" came Harry's muffled voice, silencing her tirade.
Startled, the little girl picked herself up and stared at him with an "are you stupid?" sort of expression. "Oui, 'Arry!" she said in obvious exasperation.
"Oh," said Harry blankly. And then his forehead scrunched up for a moment before, to everyone's shock– "Il est bon de vous voir, Gabrielle, mais j'ai besoin de me lever."
Everyone in the room froze in surprise, including Gabrielle. His French was by no means perfect or fluent, but it got the point across. Fleur sucked in a sharp breath when she realized that he had been studying her language behind her back. It ignited a warm glow within her that he would be so considerate, when none of this was his fault in the first place.
Though Gabrielle frowned at the lack of warmth from him, she understood his meaning and complied with his wishes, dutifully extracting herself. He carefully pushed himself back to his feet – whereupon Fawkes immediately returned to his shoulder – and placed a gentle hand on Gabrielle's head in muted apology. Then he wandered unsteadily into the room, his confused eyes taking in the scene.
"What happened, Fleur?" he asked, once more focusing in on her.
"Come sit down, chérie," she sighed in response. "Tell me what you remember, and I will fill in ze blanks."
She patted the seat next to her, and Harry stared at her for an interminable moment before finally nodding and joining her. It was easy to see that he was still in a daze, whether as a result of the panic attack or the stunner, she could not decide. He was running slow, though, and this was going to take some time.
"Not much," he frowned after a while. "I remember I was going to ask Ron to go shopping with me, and then–"
He broke off and suddenly lost what little color he'd regained, swaying slightly in his seat, and she knew he remembered everything, or at least what Ron had done. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady him, uncertain whether or not he could accept further comfort right now. It hadn't worked earlier.
Her parents remained silent, and even Gabrielle was watching worriedly, her young mind having finally puzzled out that he really wasn't well. They all gave him the time he needed to process, and then–
"Oh, Merlin," he breathed quietly, before turning a heartbroken look on her and whispering, "Please tell me I imagined it."
Fleur sighed sadly. "I wish zat I could, mon amour," she said softly. "You 'ad a panic attack after, and I found you in ze suite. You were... not well. I 'ad no choice but to stun you."
His brow furrowed at her admission. "You stunned me?" came his pained whisper.
Her heart clenching painfully, she reached up to cup his cheek, gently stroking it with her thumb. "You were not well, 'Arry," she whispered back. "I did not wish for you to 'urt yourself."
Harry swallowed and nodded almost imperceptibly. "How did I get here?" he asked.
"Fawkes brought us," she said, pausing to give a smile of thanks to the beautiful creature. "We will stay for ze 'olidays."
Harry slowly nodded his understanding, and then closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. She could feel the grief radiating from him, and finally drew him into a warm embrace, causing him to lose control of his emotions. He cried silently, even as Fawkes began a soft, soothing song to offer what comfort he could.
It was going to be a long night.
===[~]===
Two days later, Harry was feeling only marginally better. He had spoken to Fleur at great length of the incident, and of how he felt about it. Only problem was, he wasn't really sure how he did feel about it. She seemed to understand this, though, and continued to support him with everything she had.
They spent a lot of time alone in their room, and when they weren't there, Gabrielle stuck to him like glue. The discovery that he could speak a little French now delighted her, and she did her level best to enlighten him on the language. He, likewise, helped her with her English, which was growing more competent with each passing day. She was a quick learner.
But he still didn't know what to think.
While he and Ron had not been on the best of terms lately, the faint belief that Ron would always be there for him had persisted, and gave him strength without him even realizing it. With that gone, he wasn't sure where to pin his hopes. Fleur was an obvious candidate, but somehow, it was just different.
It didn't help that he was worried about leaving Hermione alone at Hogwarts, but eventually Fleur sent Fawkes off to her with a note, and he returned with one saying that she had gone home to her parents for the holidays. Harry was relieved; he was afraid that his former friend would attempt to get revenge somehow, and it disturbed him that he now thought it possible.
It wasn't until Easter day that he finally came to terms with his new situation. He was sitting outside on one of the decks that dotted the castle grounds, staring off into the distance, when he was approached by Arienne. Apart from that brief time in St. Mungo's, he hadn't had any real contact with his mother-in-law, and had no idea what to expect.
He initially shied away, unable to prevent his reaction to the unknown like he usually could, but she took it in stride and merely put an arm across his shoulders, dragging him close to her side. He could not help the way he stiffened at the contact; such things had rarely been good for him in the past. But as she sat there, saying nothing, merely offering him comfort, he did eventually relax.
"It is not ze end of ze world, 'Arry," she said out of nowhere.
Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like he had often imagined his own mother's to be, and a far cry from Molly Weasley's shrillness. Her words washed over him, and he thought to balk, but she continued before he had the chance.
"You 'ave ozzer friends, mon cher," she said softly, "and you 'ave a family now, and we love you very much. No matter zat cochon 'as turned on you, you will nevair be alone again. We will always be 'ere for you."
Though he remained silent, her words brought a warmth to his soul, and a tear to his eye. Arienne simply drew him closer, and she gave him something that he had never truly felt before: a mother's love. While she would never be able to replace his own mother, that she would try to fill that gaping hole in his life meant more to him than he could ever tell her in words alone.
===[~]===
As the days wore on, the entire family got into the act, doing their best to make Harry feel like he belonged, and to dull the deep hurt that Ron's betrayal had caused. Only Fleur knew the true extent of his pain: he had few friends, and that very first one had been truly precious to him, no matter how many problems they had had recently. Her words to that bastard rang true; Harry truly would have given him anything, had only he asked.
But now that was lost, and it left a terrible gash in Harry's soul. However, between Gabrielle's childish love and highly amusing language lessons, her mother's continuing loving support, her father's sage advice, and Fleur's own brand of love and understanding, he was finally starting to recover. And now he was outside, kicking a ball around with her little sister, finally able to lose himself in the game once more.
Fleur desperately wished that he need not return to that awful place. So many bad things had happened to him there that it was a virtual prison. He was confined, trapped with memories of his past, and that would likely never change. Though she was aware of his vague desire to honor his parents' memory by graduating Hogwarts, Fleur was already considering ways to convince him to transfer.
"How are you holding up?" asked her father, coming to join her at the window as she watched Harry play with Gabrielle.
"I am surviving, Papa," she said softly. "But I worry. How much more is he to endure?"
"He is strong, Fleur," he replied confidently. "We will all work to make his life better, you know that. But whatever he is destined to endure, he will survive it and always come back to you. You can see it in his eyes. You are his reason for living now."
Fleur blushed at his frankness. Harry was still cautious with his emotions, but had started telling her at least once each day that he loved her. He was nothing if not honest, and she therefore knew it to be true. She only wished that he had the time to explore those feelings, and to become comfortable enough that they did not frighten him.
"He's right, you know," came her mother's smiling voice as she stepped up on her other side and put her arm around her waist. "We could not have chosen better for you had we tried. He is the most honorable young man I have ever met, and he has such a gentle soul. He really does love you."
"I know," she whispered quietly. "I just don't understand why. He should hate me after all the difficulties this has caused him."
He father chuckled at her. "He does not place blame where it isn't due," he mused. "You were no more at fault than he was, and he realizes that. And he knows how much you do for him, Fleur."
"And it is a great deal more than you think," advised her mother.
Fleur shook her head, unwilling to believe their words, and yet, for some reason, she could not deny them.
Chapter 32
Exposé
On Monday evening after the break ended, Harry and Fleur found themselves ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office yet again. They were summoned in the middle of dinner – both of them this time, oddly enough – and weren't thrilled about it. The old man was probably trying to meddle again, and they had better things to do than deal with him.
The day had gone surprisingly well, and much as it hurt, Harry found that Ron's absence was actually a good thing for him. Hermione was so angry that she went to McGonagall, and to hear Hermione tell it, the woman had outright exploded. Ron was therefore suspended for two weeks, making for a much more pleasant environment at meals.
Gone were the arguments between Ron and Hermione. Gone were the yelps when she kicked him in the shins. Gone were the jealous stares that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. And, perhaps most importantly, there was no longer anyone leering at his wife from across the table.
All in all, despite his initial pain over the loss of his first friend, he was beginning to think it was actually a good thing, and probably should have happened a long time ago.
Even his classes were better. Always before, Ron spent most of every period distracting Harry from his schoolwork. Now he finished in record time; he'd learned to work hard to make up for Ron's short attention span, and he could now accomplish twice as much. Given his concerns over meeting the scholastic expectations that Sebastian set out for him, it made for much less stress.
Frighteningly enough, his grades were already nearing — and occasionally even outstripping — Hermione's at this point, and this would only push them to new heights. What was surprising, though, was the way she was taking it. Where he worried that she might be offended, she was instead very supportive, and frequently asserted that she always knew he was smarter than he acted.
Of course, he'd never told her why he was holding back, and it made him wonder if he ever would. If anyone apart from Fleur deserved to know the truth, it was Hermione – she'd stood by him through thick and thin for four years running – but it was still hard to talk about. He made a mental note to sit her down someday and tell her everything, though he wasn't sure when that would be.
First he had to deal with a meddling Headmaster who was getting on his last nerve.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Oui," sighed Fleur. "Let us get zis over wiz."
Harry snorted – when it was it ever over? – and offered his free arm to Fawkes, who immediately hopped down off his shoulder. He had the sneaking suspicion that the phoenix knew exactly what he was being used for, and wholeheartedly approved. It would gall Dumbledore to see Fawkes with him, but that was a good thing as far as he was concerned.
As ever, the man invited them in before they could knock, and Harry examined the office with a critical eye as they entered, making sure to avoid the old man's gaze. Apart from the absence of a certain perch, nothing ever seemed to change. The portraits pretended to snooze in their frames; the sword of Gryffindor gleamed in the torchlight in its case; and a multitude of odd contraptions clicked and whirred, creating an atmosphere like some kind of bizarre laboratory.
This time, however, there was a new addition in the form of Madame Maxime.
He exchanged a bemused glance with Fleur when he spotted her. Numerous scenarios that might require the woman's presence flashed through his mind, but none of them made any sense. Besides, it wasn't very likely that she would come down on Dumbledore's side of their little feud...
She sat facing them in a plush armchair to the side of the Headmaster's desk, calmly sipping dark red liquid out of an elegant crystal glass. Her enormous form positively dwarfed the Headmaster; had Harry not known better, he would have assumed that she was in charge. She was perfectly at ease, even if she did appear somewhat confused.
With matching shrugs, Harry and Fleur moved to sit in the chairs provided for them.
They were straight-backed and highly uncomfortable, and Fleur sat for all of a second before snorting and bouncing back to her feet. Harry joined her when she drew her wand, and then she carelessly waved it at the chairs. Ten seconds later, they were once again seated, this time on a cushy couch.
Maxime's lips twitched in amusement at the display, but Dumbledore was clearly perturbed by it. Harry had no doubt that he'd made them uncomfortable on purpose, especially given what happened the last time Harry was in his office. It wasn't going to work though; they were on to him.
Harry stole his hand back from his wife and scratched Fawkes' neck as the silence thickened.
He had to wonder if Dumbledore had done anything new at all in the last hundred years or so. All visits to his office started the exact same way: with a silence clearly designed to unsettle his students, forcing them to admit things they had no need to admit. The man was so set in his ways that even his last experience with Harry apparently hadn't taught him anything.
Maxime's eyebrows went up in bemusement after another few seconds, but Dumbledore appeared to be in no hurry. Instead he studied Harry intently, as though searching for a chink in his armor. Interestingly, he didn't spare Fleur so much as a glance, which was probably a mistake since she was the original cause of all his troubles if you really thought about it.
And then, finally–
"Would you care to tell me where you've been?" he asked at last.
Harry blinked.
Fleur, on the other hand, frowned. There was a malicious sparkle in her eye as she examined him, as though waiting for him to make even the smallest mistake so she could pounce. Of course, Harry knew this to be the truth; she was almost as angry at Dumbledore as Harry himself was.
As for Maxime, she looked honestly confused by the question, and it rapidly became apparent that she had no more idea what was going on than they did. Her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to puzzle it out, but she was clearly coming up empty, and elected to remain silent for the moment.
"I zink you will 'ave to be more specific zan zat," said Fleur eventually, in a much thicker accent than was normal for her. Harry suspected she was doing it on purpose just to be difficult.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to her, taking on a calculating look. His persona was that of the disappointed grandfather forced to punish his wayward charge, but Harry didn't buy it for an instant. The look was eerily reminiscent of how he was after they announced their marriage, and that did not bode well...
"You have been missing for a week," he announced somberly. "I do not think it unreasonable to ask after your whereabouts."
Harry scowled faintly. So this was about their Easter vacation? He hadn't signed the list to stay at Hogwarts, so it was really none of his business. And how had Fleur gotten dragged into it, anyhow? Speaking of which–
"I am an adult, 'eadmaster Dumbledore," she scowled. "I neither require nor desire your permission to go where I will."
Given what he'd heard of their last encounter, Harry figured she was only being as polite as she was because Madam Maxime was present.
"All students require permission to leave the grounds regardless of age, Miss Delacour," countered Dumbledore sternly. But then Maxime coughed and gave him a pointed look, at which he corrected, "My apologies, Mrs. Potter."
"She is not one of your students, Dumbly-dorr," frowned Maxime. "Beauxbatons is not so... controlling. She 'as ze right to go where she wishes."
Harry smirked.
And Dumbledore scowled at the reminder. Harry guessed that he dearly wished he could order Fleur around. If he could, he would then probably forbid her to see Harry, given how incredibly determined he was to deny their marriage. It really was a waste of time, though; that ship had long since sailed.
"That may be," he countered, "but that does not apply to Mr. Potter."
Silence was the only response to his statement.
Harry remained as he was, leaning up against Fleur and scratching one of Fawkes' favorite spots. The creature's nearly inaudible trills of pleasure brought a soft smile to his face, but it disappeared quickly when he remembered where he was. It would not do to become distracted from the proceedings.
"Mr. Potter?" prompted Dumbledore finally.
"Yes, sir?"
A scowl flickered on the man's face. "Where were you?"
"At home," he replied honestly.
As he said it, Harry was startled to realize just how truthful the statement was. The week at the Chateau was wonderful, even in spite of his troubled state. His new family made it clear that he was not only welcome, but truly loved – and it was the first time he'd ever experienced something like that. A small smile appeared on his face at the thought, causing Fawkes to bump him happily on the chin.
Not privy to Harry's thoughts, however, Dumbledore took his smile as mocking.
"Do not try my patience, Mr. Potter," he warned. "This is a very serious matter. You are facing possible expulsion."
Harry suppressed a derisive snort. He'd thought long and hard about it, and even discussed it with Sebastian, and the only conclusion he could come to was that Dumbledore would never actually go through with it. After all, he couldn't control Harry if he didn't have access to him.
He also wasn't surprised at the faint smirk that appeared on Maxime's lips. She was clearly toeing the line – Fleur was her student, but Harry wasn't – but she was also clearly on his side. Really, what business was it of Dumbledore's where he went on vacation?
As the silence continued to spiral in the wake of the grave statement, Fleur reached out and threaded her fingers into his hair, which made him smile up at her. She smiled in return, her eyes twinkling mischievously: she was clearly enjoying the old man's frustration. Harry was only too happy to provide the entertainment, too.
"Mr. Potter?" called Dumbledore quietly. "Are you going to tell me where you were?"
Fleur rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I believe 'e 'as already answered zat question, 'eadmaster Dumbledore," she reminded him. "Are you 'ard of 'earing?"
Maxime's smirk became more pronounced.
Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, Dumbledore scowled deeply and rose from his chair to lean forward on his hands in a pose that was clearly intended to intimidate. Harry could feel the man's gaze burning into his ear, and didn't dare look his way for fear of having his mind invaded. Some instinct told him that Dumbledore was rapidly reaching the end of his rope.
"Mr. Potter was not at his home," he all but growled. "The wards there would have registered his presence. Harry, if you do not tell me where you were, I will have no choice but to expel you."
Harry sighed. That was the second time he'd heard that threat in as many minutes, and he was surprised to find that he had a deep desire to see if he could actually push the man into making good on it. It wasn't like he didn't have options; Maxime would love to have him, as it would make Beauxbatons look very good.
And why was he staying at Hogwarts anyway? True, he had friends here, but was it worth it to be under the thumb of a criminal who wanted to steal his inheritance and control his every move? Was it worth having his life gravely endangered every year? Or to endanger his friends by mere association?
His time here so far had been an unmitigated disaster. Every year, something went wrong. Every year, someone came after him. And every other year, his fellow students placed the blame for whatever was happening directly on his doorstep. Was this the kind of life he wanted to lead?
The answer struck him like a bolt of lightning, and that instant of clarity changed everything.
He finally allowed his pleasant mask to fall, only to be replaced with an utterly serious look as he turned to Madam Maxime. She was scowling at Dumbledore, but she sensed his attention quickly enough, and as she turned to him, he took a deep breath. This was going to complicate things – they hadn't planned for it – but for the life of him, he could not think of a better solution to many of his problems.
"Ma'am?" he called quietly. "If your offer still stands, I'd like to take you up on it immediately. Would that be a problem?"
Fleur's head snapped toward him, her eyes widening in surprise. Maxime's eyes also widened for a moment, but then a calculating glint appeared there. Her nod was all he needed to see; the rest was just details.
"Are you certain zis is what you want?" she asked carefully. "It will not be easy."
"Yes, ma'am," he said firmly.
"Pardon me, Olympe," frowned Dumbledore, "but what offer is this?"
"Monsieur Potter is transferring to Beauxbatons," she explained with a calm and eminently pleased smile. "'E will begin attending in ze morning, and I will expect 'is records from you by ze end of ze day tomorrow."
Dumbledore's forehead creased in confusion, and he remained silent as he processed her statement.
Meanwhile, Fleur watched Harry with a surprising amount of concern. She knew full well what he was asking for, but they hadn't discussed it at any length, and she was caught off guard. He smiled gently at her, silently telling her that everything was alright, and that they would talk later.
"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore slowly, "but Mr. Potter cannot transfer from Hogwarts."
Harry sighed heavily; this was going to get sticky.
"Oh?" challenged Maxime. "'E made zis request of me ze last time you threatened to expel 'im, and I 'ave granted 'is application. I see no problem wiz zis."
Shock flickered on Dumbledore's face at that tidbit, but it cleared quickly. He was still perfectly confident, and that told Harry that he would go with the only counter he would think he had available. And sure enough–
"His guardians would need to approve any transfer," he said serenely, "which I can assure you they will not do. I do not believe they will want him attending school in France."
Maxime blinked bemusedly at Dumbledore for a few moments, and then turned a quizzical expression on Harry, her eyes full of worry. "Is zis true, Monsieur Potter?" she asked cautiously.
"No, ma'am," said Harry with a shake of his head. "My guardians will be thrilled with it."
"Oui," confirmed Fleur. "Zey will."
"Zen I do not see ze problem," shrugged Maxime, turning back to Dumbledore with an expectant look.
Harry watched closely as Dumbledore's expression changed, melting into what would appear to be a sympathetic one. Harry knew better – the man didn't have a sympathetic bone in his body – but it was interesting how good an actor he was. Though he was coming to loathe the old man, even Harry could admit that Dumbledore was usually very good at what he did.
"Harry, they would not even sign your Hogsmeade permission form," he said heavily, injecting sorrow into his voice. "Why do you believe they would approve a transfer to another school? And are you truly so unhappy at Hogwarts that you feel the need to leave?"
"Was 'e not just trying to expel you?" asked Fleur in a stage whisper, causing Dumbledore to scowl again.
Snorting his agreement with the sentiment, Harry ignored the old man and turned his attention back to Maxime. "Just tell me what you need signed, ma'am," he shrugged. "I'll have it back to you in the morning, and they'll probably want to meet with you."
"The Dursleys will not sign your transfer, Harry," said Dumbledore firmly.
And there it was.
Harry had no choice. While he didn't have a clue about how admissions and withdrawals worked at Hogwarts, it was a safe bet that he would need signed permission. And that meant that it was time to let Dumbledore in on the one bit of information that could have saved him a whole lot of trouble.
Honestly, he was completely shocked that the man hadn't gone to the Dursleys the first time something unexpected happened. It was almost as though he was so confident in his plans – and so stuck in his rut – that he believed that nothing could interfere with them. Wasn't he in for a shock?
Of course, that didn't mean that Harry had to make it easy for him...
"Sorry sir," he frowned, pasting a look of confusion on his face, "but what do the Dursleys have to do with anything?"
Maxime blinked in confusion. Fleur faintly smirked, her eyes widening in anticipation of the fallout. And Harry? Harry was having one hell of a time keeping a straight face.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, was baffled by the question. "They are your guardians, Harry," he explained slowly. "They would need to approve any transfer, and you know as well as I do that they will not."
"Ah," nodded Harry, feigning innocent surprise. "I think you missed a memo, sir. The Dursleys aren't my guardians anymore. Haven't been for a while now, actually."
Silence fell, and Dumbledore stared blankly back at him as the statement sank in. He was clearly shocked. Uncertain of the outcome of the revelation, Harry mentally tallied how long it would take to draw his wand. He didn't trust the Headmaster as far as he could throw him, and while he could throw off the Imperius Curse, he had no idea what else the man might have in his arsenal.
And didn't it just say everything that he half expected Albus Dumbledore to use an Unforgivable?
Fleur watched the old man intently, a small smile playing on her lips as she prepared to enjoy his reaction. Harry was tempted to warn her – this could go quite badly if they weren't careful – but then again, she was smart enough to be on her guard. In fact, now that he looked more closely, he suspected that she was watching him so closely for more than one reason.
And Maxime looked like she was barely holding her laughter inside. Her eyes twinkled a mile a minute, obviously enjoying Dumbledore's predicament. It was well known in the Wizarding world that it was almost impossible to pull something over on that man, but it would appear that Harry had just done so.
But then their momentary enjoyment was over.
"What did you just say?" whispered Dumbledore.
And the power behind that whisper was truly alarming. Harry had heard of Wizards infusing magic into their words, and while he'd suspected it of the man before, now he was certain that he was capable of it. The question filled the room, reverberating off the walls in spite of its lack of volume.
Harry's nerves ratcheted up, but he refused to be cowed. This man had harmed him greatly, and there was no way he was going to back down. He pushed his fears to the back of his mind, just as he'd done when facing so many dangers before, and turned his head such that Dumbledore could see his eyes, but not look directly into them. It would be enough to convey his meaning.
"I said," he repeated slowly, "that the Dursleys are no longer my guardians."
Dumbledore stared back at him, blinking slowly, the aura around him building all the while, slowly transitioning to visibility. Harry had seen him like this once before, but never to this extent – and for the first time, he wondered at the wisdom of his choice in revealing this. It took all of his willpower not to shrink into his wife.
Maxime looked very concerned as the charged silence stretched on. Dumbledore's eyes were unfocused as he lost himself in thought, and his cheeks gained a red tint, reflecting his sudden anger. And then he finally came back to himself and slowly straightened up.
"Look at me, Harry," he said softly, with a dangerous edge.
And the compulsion behind the words was so powerful that Maxime drew her wand. The magic behind it crawled over Harry's skin, giving him a desperate urge to do as he was commanded, but – just like the Imperius Curse – his will overcame it and he shook it off. He stared Fawkes in the eye, and the creature stared back, offering silent support.
"No," he growled. "I will not let you in my head."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed to angry slits, and then – just as Harry thought he might be about to force the issue – he slowly turned and walked to a shelf along one wall of the office. Harry turned his head slightly to keep an eye on him. All he did, though, was open a cabinet and start moving things out of the way with cautious deliberation.
The atmosphere was so charged that Harry had the urge to run. He had not forgotten that Dumbledore was powerful, but he'd never been exposed to the full brunt of that power before. It was daunting, and he knew beyond doubt that, should magic become involved any more than it already was, his only hope was the creature perched on his arm.
He would not survive two seconds in a duel with that man.
The angry Headmaster searched for perhaps twenty seconds before he finally came up with yet another silver contraption, and his expression darkened ominously as he examined it. Unlike the others in the office, this one was still and silent. Harry had no idea what it was or what it did, and he eyed it warily.
But then the Headmaster simply put it back.
His cheeks were white with rage when he turned back to face Harry, and he was so focused that it was likely that he no longer registered the presence of anyone else in the room. His eyes hardened into chips of ice, and his mouth tightened so much that his lips disappeared. But he didn't yell or scream.
"Do you have any idea what you have done?" he whispered in a low, deadly tone.
Fleur's hand came to the small of Harry's back, and it was probably only that – and Fawkes' presence – that allowed him to keep his fear from showing. The danger in front of him was greater than any other he had ever faced, and he knew that instinctively. But still, he would not be cowed.
"What I've done is none of your business, sir," he quietly replied, his tone equally as dangerous.
Dumbledore stared back at him for a long moment, his anger not abating in the slightest, and Harry tightened his hand on the hilt of his wand – when had he drawn it? He didn't remember; he had done so on instinct alone.
And then Dumbledore's wand flashed out, snapping sharply at the office doors, which made a sickly squelching sound as his spell impacted. "You will stay here," he growled harshly, "while I retrieve the Dursleys so I can fix this mess!"
Harry's eyes narrowed, but the Headmaster didn't wait for a response. He eyed Fawkes for a moment, but seemed to realize that it was pointless to ask, and instead headed for the fireplace. Tossing a pinch of Floo powder in, he shouted "Kneazle Warren!", and then stepped into the flames and vanished.
A stark silence reigned in the office for several seconds until–
"What is going on?" asked Maxime fearfully.
Harry turned and exchanged a long and deeply worried look with Fleur. The look in her eyes told him that she was as frightened as he was, and at just as much of a loss. The message that passed silently between them was perfectly clear.
They were in over their heads.
Chapter 33
Turning Point
The war with Voldemort was raging the last time the British Auror Office saw so much of Sebastian Delacour. He was a Master Auror then, on loan to the British Ministry to shore up the ranks after they took significant losses in a skirmish in Wales. Though much had changed – including the person occupying the head office – much more had stayed the same.
The peaceful atmosphere of Amelia's office was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the rank and file. Aurors scurried to and fro as they worked, comparing cases and chasing leads. A multitude of voices, some hushed and some shouting, permeated the bullpen in a dull roar.
The rise in Dark activity after the World Cup was worrisome. Few arrests were made – the perpetrators disappeared quickly – and they were no closer to solving the problem. It was too bad that Minister Fudge was so shortsighted; the Department had less than a third of the personnel they needed because the Auror budget was his favorite one to cut.
But that was not his problem, and even if it were, it would have been the least of his concerns.
With a heavy sigh, Sebastian rubbed his eyes tiredly. Removing Albus Dumbledore from his positions of power was proving both easier and more difficult than they expected. On one hand, the bad press he was receiving as a result of the trial was working very much in their favor – but on the other, he still controlled Hogwarts, and they were having no luck in dislodging him.
And Hogwarts was the Big Prize.
Though it was nothing more than a school, the position of Hogwarts Headmaster was powerfully symbolic the world over. Many previous Headmasters had been the movers and shakers of their world, and Albus was no exception. So long as he held the post, people would wonder how things could possibly be as bad as the press was making them out to be.
Unfortunately, though, the Hogwarts Board of Governors was populated mostly by self-obsessed purebloods who wanted nothing more than to line their own pockets, and Albus had them under his thumb. Until such time as it became less profitable to accept his bribes than it was to do the right thing, they would do nothing. A lot of Harry's money had likely gone to them over the years to create that situation in the first place.
"What about Professor Binns?" asked Amelia thoughtfully, interrupting his musings. "He's a horrible teacher. Maybe we could use that somehow."
"An exposé on falling standards at 'ogwarts?" mused Sebastian thoughtfully. "We would 'ave to tear down more than just one teacher, and most of them are very good."
"Well, there's Hagrid," she frowned, "but I won't tarnish a good man's name for the sake of getting rid of Dumbledore."
Sebastian silently agreed with that ideal. Albus used people as pawns, moving them around on his personal chessboard to his heart's content, heedless of the feelings of the individual. He refused to become what they were fighting; if they were going to take anyone down, it would be people that truly deserved it.
Hagrid was a marginal teacher according to reports, but he was not a bad person – and it was only his second year, so he had a long way to go in learning what was appropriate. In fact, the majority of the problem could be laid at Dumbledore's feet anyway. It was his responsibility to set the standard for what was taught, and he was failing miserably at it.
"I 'ave 'eard 'Arry say that the groundskeeper is almost as bad as Snape," he offered. "We could look into that, but I do not think it would be an open and shut case."
Amelia nodded. "Filch is a piece of work," she said, "but you're right, it wouldn't be as easy as Snape was. The only other ones I've got are Burbage and Trelawney."
"Nobody will care about a Muggle Studies professor," he sighed. "And Divination is not much better."
"Agreed," said Amelia grudgingly.
They lapsed into silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts and budding plans. He was not surprised that she was putting so much time into this; she hated seeing such a horrible injustice as had been committed against Harry, and on top of it, she had a niece in Dumbledore's care. It was easily enough to motivate her.
Sebastian tapped his teacup with his wand to warm it again as he considered the situation. Going after the man for the theft would be an enormous hit, but there was no guarantee that it would be big enough to dislodge him. He was a crafty politician and an accomplished legal defender – his failure at Snape's trial notwithstanding – and public opinion would matter just as much as the facts of the case if they wanted a conviction.
Merlin only knew that he probably had some convoluted reason he could trot out to supposedly justify his actions. His concept of "The Greater Good" was tiresome, but it won many hearts and minds for its seeming simplicity. Just leave everything to Albus Dumbledore, and your life goes on the way you want it.
If they could bring a contributory abuse case against him, then it would shake the world enough to be a done deal – but that was a last resort option. Harry did not want his past publicized, and Sebastian could not blame him for it. The fallout would be horrendous.
And Amelia seemed to be considering the same thing.
"I know you don't want to, but have you asked Harry if he'd be willing to use the abuse against Dumbledore?"
"'E as never told anyone, Amelia," he replied quietly. "I do not think 'e will want it in the press, which is where it would most certainly end up. I will not ask 'im unless–"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door, even as her expression shifted into agreement with his position. She frowned deeply, shook her head, and moved to answer it; Sebastian rose to his feet, presuming that only someone important would be willing to interrupt a closed-door meeting with the Head of the Department.
He was rather surprised, then, when it turned out to be Auror Tonks.
Sebastian rather liked the spunky Auror. Though timid as a mouse at times, she could be boisterous and a great deal of fun at others. He still had no idea how she did that thing with her hair, though, and resolved to ask her at some point.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, she peered into the office around Amelia, and smiled brightly at Sebastian when she caught sight of him. As they so frequently did, the spikes in her hair stood to attention in her happiness, and flipped to bright blue.
"Auror Tonks?" prompted Amelia.
Tonks winced and graced her with a sheepish expression. "Sorry, ma'am," she offered timidly. "You wanted these files as soon as possible?"
Amelia rolled her eyes and took the proffered folders, quickly flipping through them. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as she read – it was apparently something good – and then she turned back to Tonks with a calculating expression. "Is this accurate?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am." Tonks' head bobbed in affirmation, though her hair stayed eerily still, almost like it was changing length to prevent itself from moving. "Sharpclaw showed me the books. I didn't even know goblins would do something like–"
Tonks broke off abruptly, her eyes going wide, and she whipped out her wand to point at a small fireball that abruptly blossomed into existence in the middle of Amelia's office. Sebastian watched as it faded, and worry set it in when it revealed a beautiful crimson bird. Neither Harry nor Fleur would use Fawkes to deliver ordinary mail...
"Is that a phoenix?" breathed Tonks.
"Yes, he is," frowned Sebastian, holding out his arm. Then, to the phoenix, "Bonjour, Fawkes. Do you 'ave something for us?"
Amelia closed the distance as Fawkes fluttered down on his arm, and Tonks bravely stepped into the office to get a better look. Sebastian could understand her interest: phoenixes were exceedingly rare, and to see one associating with humans, even more so. But her reaction couldn't hold his attention, as it was riveted on the scrap of parchment in the creature's beak.
He reached out and took it, at which point Fawkes swiveled his head around backwards to peer curiously at the young Auror. She went wide-eyed and stared back at him, and he chirped brightly, apparently having decided that he approved of her. Her smile was blinding, and her hair cycled back to hot pink.
In spite of his worry, Sebastian could not suppress his chuckle and smile at the scene, but he then quickly turned back to the parchment in his hand, and his momentary amusement quickly faded:
We are trapped in Dumbledore's office. He sealed the doors. Please come quickly.
Fleur
Sebastian blinked, and then looked sharply up at Amelia and thrust the parchment into her hands. A simmering anger boiled up inside at the thought that Dumbledore might harm his family, and he had to clamp down on it; anger would get him nowhere, and only cause mistakes. Fortunately, it only took Amelia a moment to come to terms with what she read.
"Damn," she breathed, looking wide-eyed up at him.
Sebastian frowned and scratched Fawkes' belly to get his attention. "Are you willing to take us there, Fawkes?" he requested.
Fawkes bobbed his head and splayed his tail feathers, shaking them in invitation as was his way.
"Grab on, Auror," Amelia snapped out to Tonks, even as she reached out herself. "You're coming with us. Protect the Potters at all costs."
"The Potters?" breathed Tonks, though her shock did not prevent her from reaching tentatively out to grab a piece of Fawkes' tail.
Nobody had a chance to answer her question.
Fawkes was apparently in a hurry, because he burst into flame the moment she touched him. Moments later they were standing in the Headmaster's office, and Tonks jumped back in shock, not having expected the unusual form of travel. But the scene was not what Sebastian expected.
All was quiet, and the room was occupied by three people, none of whom was Dumbledore. Harry and Fleur he could have expected, even alone, but Madame Maxime? That was an odd twist...
She was standing off to the side of Dumbledore's desk, and the troubled expression on her face did not speak highly for the situation, no matter how innocent it appeared. She also had her wand drawn, which was even more troublesome; Sebastian had dealt with her on numerous occasions, and she almost never used magic unless it was absolutely necessary. That meant that something had happened.
In front of Dumbledore's desk stood Harry, wearing a grim expression, with Fleur wrapped tightly around him from behind, her cheek pressed firmly against the side of his head. His daughter gave the appearance of a woman who was desperately afraid of losing her husband, and that concerned him greatly. Something bad had happened...
"Are you alright?" he asked, even as Tonks and Amelia began to wordlessly prowl the office, looking for threats.
"Yeah," sighed Harry. And then he rubbed his face tiredly for a moment, before– "Thanks for coming, sir. I think we have a problem."
Sebastian ignored his urge to correct Harry on his formality, given the situation. "What 'appened?" he asked worriedly.
"He knows."
Two words. Two words with such incredible impact that Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath and his pulse quickened. They had done a fair job of keeping Dumbledore in the dark about the guardianship – far more so than they expected, truth be told – but now it was out. And suddenly, he began to understand the nature of the situation; it would not go over well, and Albus was certain to make an attempt at interfering.
"Where is he?" he asked simply.
"He went to get the Dursleys," grumbled Harry.
Sebastian stared blankly at him.
Amelia snorted.
And Tonks looked on in confusion when Sebastian suddenly burst out laughing, unable to help himself in spite of the situation. It drew a wide-eyed, concerned look from Maxime, who probably thought he was losing his mind, and Harry and Fleur exchanged bemused glances. But it was just too funny!
"Papa?" prompted Fleur through narrowed eyes.
"Oh, magnifique!" he breathed through his continuing chortles. "I wonder 'ow long 'e will search for them?"
Harry and Fleur both stared at him in shock, and he knew then that Harry had conveniently forgotten that the Dursleys were no longer in residence on Privet Drive. Then a grim, cruel smile grew on his lips as the reality of it registered. This was definitely going to be interesting!
Fleur's startled snort of amusement was completely worth it, and Harry turned his head up to give her a small smile. "I forgot about that," he said apologetically.
She just smiled and brushed his cheek with the back of her hand.
"How long has he been gone?" asked Amelia, her tone businesslike in spite of her obvious amusement at Dumbledore's newest predicament.
"Five minutes or so," shrugged Harry. "We sent Fawkes right away."
Fawkes chirped brightly at the mention and fluttered down from atop an armoire, coming to rest on Fleur's shoulder. She and Harry both reached up and absently scratched him without turning from the conversation, as though he was simply a fixture in their lives. Sebastian had to smile again at that; it was somehow appropriate.
"Then why don't you tell us exactly what happened," sighed Amelia, drawing her wand to conjure a couple of plush couches for them to sit on.
Harry, however, wasn't quite comfortable; he nodded his acquiescence, but then his gaze tracked to Tonks. The Auror was standing in quiet confusion several paces away from Amelia, from where she could clearly see everyone in the room, and most specifically Harry and Fleur. Sebastian approved of her positioning, but she clearly had no clue what exactly was going on.
Amelia caught Harry's questioning look. "This is Auror Tonks," she offered simply. "She's our backup for the day, and I trust her completely."
Tonks blushed at the compliment, though unlike most people, it didn't stop at the roots of her hair, which drew a raised eyebrow from Fleur.
Harry smiled faintly at the Auror, and then allowed Fleur to nudge him over to one of the couches. The story was surprisingly short, and Sebastian was both amused and gratified to learn that Harry had the guts to string the Headmaster along, effectively taunting him. That, more than anything, proved that the boy had what it took to survive what was likely coming.
Dumbledore was a formidable opponent in any arena, but none more so than the magical one. Harry had willingly angered the man who was widely considered to be the most powerful Wizard alive. It was impressive, and perhaps a little worrying.
But what really shocked Sebastian was Harry's abrupt decision to transfer to Beauxbatons. While he had considered suggesting it, he never did because he felt that it would be too big an adjustment for the boy to handle along with all the other changes in his life. The more he thought about it, though, the more he liked the idea.
Once the Tournament was over, Harry would be forever out of Dumbledore's reach.
Amelia took it gracefully – she understood what he was dealing with – but Tonks frowned deeply. To her credit, she maintained her silence, but he had a feeling that her boss was going to get an earful later. Hogwarts was a point of national pride, and to see a famous person like Harry transfer away would be a massive hit to that pride.
It could also bring negative publicity, and that would have to be played carefully. The marriage was one thing, but a blow to national pride could cause some problems. Then again, Sebastian had the best public relations staff in all of France, and they would find a way to handle it.
"You are certain that this is what you want?" he asked seriously, spearing Harry with a grave look. "There will be no turning back, 'Arry. If you do this, it will be for good. You cannot so easily change your mind."
Harry shrugged tiredly. "It makes sense, Sebastian," he said quietly. "I'm moving to France anyway, and with Dumbledore here..." He let the statement hang for a moment before lowering his voice. "I don't want to leave, but I don't think I have a choice. He won't give up, sir."
Sebastian sighed. "I cannot disagree," he decided grudgingly. "We will approve the transfer, of course. I just want to be certain that you understand the magnitude of the decision."
Harry chuckled morbidly. "This is nothing, sir," he smirked. "I just married your daughter on a whim, remember?"
That comment got a laugh out of him.
The next ten minutes were spent hashing over what Dumbledore might do upon his return, but none of them could truly predict his actions. He was already angry, and was likely to be more so when he found the Dursleys missing. While it was good to keep him off balance, it was also dangerous: if he lost control of his temper, he could do a lot of damage, and all of them combined would be hard pressed to stop him.
Maxime was immensely pleased to learn that the Delacours had taken custody, as it got her the student she so clearly wanted. Sebastian had no illusions as to her motives – it was a very attractive feather in the school's cap – but he trusted her not to take blatant advantage. For one, she knew how he would react if she did.
And through it all, Tonks stood silently behind one of the couches, absorbing as much she could. Her confusion was clear on her features, but she kept her counsel in spite of the questions brewing behind her eyes. Harry shot her a few curious glances, but nothing was forthcoming from his direction, either.
And then, finally, it was time.
They all pushed to their feet when the fireplace flared, and Amelia promptly vanished the couches and motioned Tonks to join her in taking up positions on either side of the hearth. It was a common Auror tactic when apprehending criminals: they almost never noticed anyone standing next to the fireplace, which made it easy to stun them in the back. Sebastian doubted that it would work with Dumbledore, but in this instance, he was wrong.
The man was far too distracted by his anger to pay much attention.
He stepped out in full aura, and the fire in his eyes and the tint of his cheeks only added to his appearance as a formidable foe. He wasted no time in stalking toward Harry, and Sebastian instinctively drew his wand; he might not be able to beat Dumbledore, but that did not mean he would not try if the man did something stupid. He could only hope it didn't come down to that.
"What have you done with them, you foolish boy?" hissed Dumbledore in barely-contained fury.
Harry's expression shuttered, and he flinched away, deeper into Fleur's embrace. Sebastian's anger returned in full force: he suspected that a lot of his reaction was due to the word 'boy' used in such a context. It had been one of Vernon's favorites.
"That will be quite enough, Albus," he snapped. "'Arry 'as done nothing. If you 'ave a problem, you will take it up with me."
Dumbledore jerked backward a pace – he had apparently had tunnel vision on Harry – and his gaze quickly tracked to Sebastian, whose presence only made him that much angrier. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.
Sebastian eyed him cautiously. There was an edge of insanity to Dumbledore that was quite disturbing. He would have to be careful: the man was on the edge of doing something they would all regret.
His only choice, he decided, was to play it straight.
"'Ow I got 'ere is not important," he said in a commanding tone, causing Dumbledore's eyes to narrow even further. "What isimportant, is that it is not your place to to take 'Arry to task for anything. I 'ave legal custody, and I am approving 'is transfer to Beauxbatons. 'E is no longer your concern, Albus, not that 'e ever truly was."
Silence rang in the office in the wake of his statement, and Amelia raised her wand slightly behind Dumbledore, just in case they were forced to take action. That was their biggest advantage at the moment: the man was oblivious to the Auror presence, which gave them an edge. Although, if they could get out of this without a fight, it would be vastly preferable.
"What did you do with the Dursleys, Sebastian?" asked Dumbledore dangerously, finally breaking his shocked silence.
"That is not your concern either," growled Sebastian back. "'Ear me well, Albus Dumbledore. You 'ave overstepped your authority on repeated occasion, and I will no longer tolerate it."
"Tell me where they are, Sebastian," countered Dumbledore quietly, "or I will have you arrested for kidnapping British citizens, regardless of the international consequences. I will not tolerate your interference in matters beyond your understanding."
Sebastian's eyebrow went up at his presumption. He wanted to call the man on his hypocrisy, given that he appeared to be meddling with fate, but the fact remained that the less he knew, the better off they were. They needed to deal with whatever the Prophecy meant on their own terms without the ancient bastard trying to insert himself into their plans.
"Go ahead," he shrugged instead. "You will not like the results. I 'ave the law on my side, Albus. You do not."
"We shall see," spat Dumbledore.
And then he whirled to head for his desk, and came face to face with the Director of Magical Law Enforcement for all of Great Britain.
"He's right, Dumbledore," she growled without waiting for him to speak. "His guardianship of Mr. Potter is unassailable, and the transfer took place with Mr. Potter's full approval."
Squaring up a bit she added, "As for the Dursleys, they are myproblem, not yours. Unless you want to be charged immediately with a whole host of serious offenses, you will walk away from this. Right. Bloody. Now."
Dumbledore stared blankly, his face cycling through too many emotions to count, and Sebastian suddenly wondered if the man might have a heart attack from the number of shocks he was receiving today. This was going to be very bad for him. Not only was he completely losing control of his pawn – not that he had any of late – but he was also going to take a massive political hit for losing his most famous student, at least if Sebastian had any say in the matter.
"You are not aware of the situation, Amelia," he said slowly at length, his voice quiet and angry. "Harry must stay with the Dursleys. The wards there are the only things that protect him."
Half the people in the room snorted derisively, but it was Amelia who continued the conversation. "Protect him from what, exactly?" she asked rhetorically. "They certainly didn't protect him from the Dursleys."
Albus scowled. "He is not in danger from the Dursleys."
"Oh?" asked Amelia condescendingly. "Just how well do you know those people, Albus?"
"I have known them for more than twenty years."
Amelia's smile turned shark-like at this admission, but Sebastian was distracted by Harry's reaction. His entire bearing had turned angry, and if looks could kill, then Dumbledore would be a dead man walking. The man had essentially admitted that he was aware of what kind of people they were, but he had left Harry there anyway.
"Then I should charge you with multiple counts of child abuse, child endangerment, and attempted murder, among others," growled Amelia back at the old man, causing him to pale significantly in the torchlight. "I know exactly what went on in that house, Dumbledore. And mark my words, Mr. Potter will never return to those people!"