Chapter 34
Transference
In the years that followed, Fleur would only ever be able to recall vague impressions of the remainder of that fateful meeting. All of her attention had suddenly been focused on Harry. His anger was palpable after the mention of the Dursleys.
An explosion from his direction was not going to help their case any, and he thankfully knew that, so he allowed her efforts to keep him calm.
The long and short of it was that they had Dumbledore over a barrel on the guardianship, and he had clearly overstepped the bounds of every position he held. If he tried it again they would throw the book at him. They could dream up a whole host of charges for him to answer to, and with Amelia Bones herself doing the charging, he would certainly be forced to defend himself.
It was a bluff, of course.
As far as Dumbledore knew, they had nothing on him that would stick in any meaningful way, and he was mostly correct. Oh, he was clearly a criminal, but the fact that he had more than half the magical world in his political pocket was well known. He would never be convicted of anything even the slightest bit subjective, and at worst it would be a nuisance for him to deflect it all.
They didn't bother enlightening him on their knowledge of his theft from the Potter estate. That, he would not be able to sweep under the rug so easily. Anything else he faced was just gravy; they had to weaken his reputation before they could take him down if they wanted to ensure he couldn't slip out of it somehow.
Of course if he continued to tarnish his own reputation like he had with Snape's trial, it would be all that much easier.
The end result of the meeting was a strong demand that he steer clear of Harry and Fleur, and it was backed with some fairly sharp teeth. Fleur did not expect to have any trouble from the old man's direction for a while. He was extremely angry over losing Harry Potter to a visiting school, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Not without opening a massive can of worms, anyway. Amelia Bones was nobody's fool.
Harry and Fleur left that meeting feeling an unexpected measure of freedom and safety from the meddling old goat.
The following morning they sat down at their usual place at the Gryffindor table for breakfast as though nothing had changed. Dumbledore was blessedly absent; of the staff that Fleur was acquainted with, only McGonagall was present. Neville was already there and nodded a silent good morning to them, and Hermione wandered in a few minutes later.
She quickly took the seat next to Neville, across from Fleur. The first thing out of her mouth post-greeting was no surprise given her inquisitive nature.
"So what happened with the Headmaster?" she asked innocently.
Harry closed his eyes and let out a pained groan. Fleur reached over and put a gentle hand on the back of his neck, but couldn't help her amused chuckle. She knew he wasn't upset by the question – but also that he wasn't looking forward to answering it. He was afraid of Hermione's reaction.
Fleur decided to spare him the trouble.
"'Arry is transferring to Beauxbatons, 'ermione," she said with utmost seriousness. "Ze 'eadmaster ees too controlling, and we will not tolerate eet any longer."
It was probably fortunate that so few were in the Hall at this time of morning, or that statement would likely have started a riot right then and there. As it stood, the few students within hearing range of their conversation immediately went silent – and then the murmurs started as they passed the new rumor on to their friends.
Fleur rolled her eyes in exasperation. Hogwarts truly was no different than Beauxbatons in that respect. The rumor mill tended to work overtime, and the transfer would likely be a known fact throughout the castle before the hour was even up.
Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing, and opened her mouth to speak – but then she stopped and seemed to think better of whatever she had been about to say. Instead she just stared at him.
"I had to, Hermione," he quietly defended himself. "He keeps threatening to expel me, but we know he won't go through with it. What will he do when he realizes the threat doesn't work?"
Hermione blinked and then shook herself. "I'm not upset, Harry," she assured him. "I'm just surprised is all. I thought you might transfer at the end of the year, but I didn't expect it mid-term."
"Ze 'eadmaster left us wiz no choice," shrugged Fleur. "We will seemply 'ave to deal wiz eet."
Hermione nodded. "When do you start?" she wondered.
"I have to take placement exams in a couple of days," Harry told her. "Not sure yet what happens after that."
Fleur's attention was caught by Neville, then. His expression had been a shocked one, but it morphed into one of deep thought. She was again visited with the suspicion that Neville was truly underestimated as a friend.
"I'd better let Gran know," he finally frowned. "If you don't get ahead of this, it's going to turn the whole country against you."
"She might already know," Harry told him. "Madam Bones was in the meeting."
Neville nodded. "Then she probably does, but I'll tell her anyway. If the Prophet gets hold of this before you can get your side of the story out…"
Harry stared thoughtfully back at Neville, as though seeing him for the first time. From what he'd told her of the boy, Fleur could understand: he was supposed to be the quiet and unassuming one. Clearly, however, he had actually been properly trained to head his family when the time came, and was finally starting to show it.
Hermione, for her part, was giving Neville a speculative look that sent a wave of amusement through Fleur. The girl wasn't smitten, but she was definitely taking a renewed interest.
Fleur added the next piece of the puzzle. "Papa will already 'ave dealt wiz zis," she informed them. "'E 'as been working wiz Madam Bones, and zey will be aware of ze issues." Frowning a little she added, "but you should steel tell your Gran. Eet is only right that she 'ear it from you as soon as possible."
Neville blinked and nodded, and breakfast continued.
Not much more was discussed on the topic of the transfer apart from a few veiled jokes from the twins when they arrived; they had already heard it from the overly-efficient rumor mill. It wasn't until the end of breakfast that anything else occurred, and that was when Professor McGonagall caught up with them. They were just rising to leave the Hall.
"Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she greeted. "May I have a moment of your time, please?"
Fleur blinked at her formality and deference. She liked the woman and had never had any issues with her, but Minerva McGonagall always came across as stern and in charge. This was a slightly different persona; she had clearly been told that Harry was no longer her student.
"Of course, Professor," frowned Harry, clearly having sensed the same difference.
McGonagall beckoned, and they followed her to what Fleur could only assume was her personal office. Hermione and Neville split off halfway there, saying they would meet them for lunch. Soon they were seated, and after serving tea, McGonagall sat pensively for a brief time before she finally spoke.
Fleur and Harry both gave her that time; it was clear that the woman had something weighty on her mind.
"Firstly, Mr. Potter," she finally said, looking him in the eye, "I owe you an apology. I truly am sorry for how you've been treated at Hogwarts." With a slight frown she added, "And beyond Hogwarts, for what part I played in that."
Harry's expression darkened slightly at the reference, but he didn't seem to be jumping to conclusions. Fleur had no idea what the woman was talking about, and decided to rectify that.
"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. "I did not know you 'ad any responsibility for 'im outside of ze school."
Harry's ears perked up, and McGonagall smiled sadly. "I didn't, really," she explained, "but I was present when he was left with those people. I advised Albus against it, but…"
She shrugged and trailed off, her gaze going distant. It was clear to Fleur that she truly did care, and felt at least partly responsible for the leaving him with those abusers. Fleur suspected that her presence mattered not, however, and Harry was apparently feeling the same way.
"It wouldn't have mattered," he said quietly. "Dumbledore wanted me there. We all know that Dumbledore generally gets what he wants."
"And that is the only thing that lets me sleep at night," admitted McGonagall flatly.
"Ze past is ze past," mused Fleur. "Unlike someone I could mention, you are not malicious. I do not think we need 'old you responsible for what zat bâtard 'as done."
"I agree," said Harry quietly, finally looking up to catch the older woman's eye. "But thank you."
McGonagall smiled, and Fleur could detect a hint of relief about her; Harry's opinion apparently mattered to the woman. She finally nodded and stood, moving over to stare out the window for a moment. It had to be magical, as the office was nowhere near the outer walls of the castle, but the view through that window showed the Quidditch pitch.
"It is truly a great loss to Hogwarts to see you go," she finally sighed, taking a moment to rub her eyes. And then she turned to look at him again. "But I do think you're making the right decision. I want you to know that I will help you however I can, especially while you're still here in the castle."
Shifting a little she added, "You may not be a Hogwarts student any longer, but I will always think of you as my student."
Fleur smiled. She knew Harry well enough by now to see that the sentiment had touched him deeply. It had become all too apparent that very few adults had ever supported him in any meaningful way in the past.
McGonagall was, like so many adults, guilty of that, but it would seem that she at least was making an effort to change.
"Thank you, Professor," he replied.
"I don't know what you have planned for classes," she told him, "Your wife can correct me if I'm wrong here, but I believe the Beauxbatons students are mostly engaged in self study?"
"Oui," nodded Fleur. "Ze teachers are available at times to answer questions, but zat is all. We are responsible for our own studies."
"That being the case," said McGonagall, "please don't hesitate to attend any of my classes you wish to. And Professors Flitwick and Sprout have also asked me to extend the same offer on their behalf."
Harry was clearly deep in thought. Fleur reached over and gently brushed his hair off his forehead, the gesture drawing a faint smile out of McGonagall. "Eet would be a good idea, mon amour," she told him. "You would be able to keep up more easily zat way."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor," he offered. "I'll probably take you up on that. And please tell the others the same from me."
===[~]===
Harry could scarcely believe that he was actually going through with it, but as he sat down to wait in a chair outside Maxime's office, it finally began to set in that he was really changing schools. He truly was no longer a Hogwarts student. He wouldn't even be returning to the castle the following year.
Oddly, that fact didn't bother him all that much.
He had been surprised by Hermione's muted response to the transfer – he honestly expected her to explode – but it was suddenly explained when the door opened to admit her, and she walked over to sit in the chair next to him.
"Hermione?" he queried, blinking in surprise.
"What, you didn't think I'd let you do this without me, did you?" she grinned. "Besides, it's not like I want to be stuck alone in the same classes with Ronald bloody Weasley."
Harry blinked again. "You're transferring?" he asked for confirmation.
"I checked with my parents when you made your contingency plans," she confirmed. "They said it was fine, so I had them send me a permission slip just in case. Professor McGonagall is a little upset, but she understands."
Harry shook his head to clear it. "I'm not sure what to say," he frowned. "You didn't have to do that just for me, Hermione."
"Don't be silly, Harry," she said dismissively. "Yes, it's partly for you, but really? I think you have the right idea. From what I've seen Beauxbatons might actually be a significantly better school anyway."
"I am most pleased zat you think so, Mademoiselle Granger," came Maxime's amused voice from the doorway.
Caught off-guard, they both jumped to their feet to greet her. They hadn't missed the way most of the Beauxbatons students acted around their Headmistress, and neither Harry nor Hermione was an idiot. They could do the math on what was expected of them.
Harry figured Hermione had no worries, but he himself had to fight down a wave of nerves. Had Hogwarts prepared him well enough for the placement exams he was about to take, in a language he was still just learning?
He really didn't know.
===[~]===
The tests took nearly six hours, and both Harry and Hermione were completely wrung out by the time it was over. Harry's most significant complaint — and one that he admitted was totally expected — was that the language barrier was still quite significant. Hermione, of course, had no issue as she was already fluent in French.
Now they were trying to relax in one of the many study areas in the carriage while awaiting the results. Fleur was the one who couldn't stop fidgeting, however, and was surprised to realize that she was more nervous even than Harry was — though that might have been because he was simply too exhausted to worry about it any longer.
She truly was stunned that he'd chosen this route. While she knew of the contingency of course, it was a shock to see him so readily make use of it. Fleur had assumed at the time that it was just a bluff – a fallback measure that would never actually be used.
While she was shocked, however, she was also eminently pleased.
The more time she spent with her newly-minted husband, the more she felt that they were truly a match made in Heaven. It made the idea of being separated from him next year a difficult one to bear. Now, though, they would at least be in the same country.
She would have graduated by then, but they'd work something out; unlike Hogwarts, Beauxbatons had day students, and that might work best for them in the end. Then she could see him every day.
It was strange how things had ended up, she thought. Oh, they still had a lot to learn about each other, but they had also learned a great deal already. She had no idea what the future would bring, but she expected that — once Dumbledore was finally dealt with — it would be a very bright future indeed.
She didn't get much further along in that train of thought, though, before it was derailed by the arrival of Madam Maxime. The three of them quickly stood, and while Harry and Hermione were clearly nervous, Fleur thought that the smile the Headmistress was wearing probably boded well for them.
"Please, sit," Maxime offered in her native French. She was speaking sightly slower than normal, but was clearly determined to have them use the language as much as possible.
Fleur smirked to herself at the attentive expression on Hermione's face. Harry had told her of the girl's obsession with schoolwork, and it was on clear display here. Not that Fleur couldn't relate…
"Mademoiselle Granger, do you wish to hear your results privately?" she asked after a moment.
"No, ma'am," replied Hermione with a shake of her head. "I have nothing to hide from these two."
Maxime smiled. "Excellent," she replied. "And you, Monsieur Potter?"
Harry just chuckled. "She's known my marks since day one, ma'am," he replied in halting french, only substituting a word here and there with its English equivalent if he didn't know the appropriate French one yet. "I'll ask her to help me catch up anyway, so she may as well know."
The Headmistress nodded. "Very good," she agreed. "Simply put, you both did quite well, excepting the areas that you already indicated would be problematic. Potions, History, and Defense to be specific, though Monsieur Potter does show some promise in the latter."
Harry and Hermione nodded; this was no surprise to them. Fleur had heard all about the lackluster teaching in History and Defense, and had personally charbroiled the former Potions professor, so she wasn't at all surprised either.
"Your Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology scores are excellent, so there is no issue there. We do not offer divination to those who are not certified as having the Sight, so that you will not have Monsieur Potter. Magical Creatures you are both acceptable in.
"I would like to see you add Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, Monsieur Potter," she noted after a moment. "You are not too far behind at this point that you cannot catch up with some work, and it would round out your education very nicely, making it much easier to find a career."
Harry frowned at this, and Fleur gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She was excellent in both subjects, and figured that between her and Hermione they could have him up to snuff by the beginning of next year easily.
He looked up at her, and she smiled back. "I think it's a good idea, 'Arry," she said. "I will help you study, of course."
Harry searched her eyes for a moment, and then slowly nodded before turning back to Maxime. "Okay, I guess," he replied.
"I'll help too," smiled Hermione happily. "I always thought you should've taken those to begin with anyway."
Harry just rolled his eyes — it was apparently an old argument between them.
"You will need a small amount of work there yourself Mademoiselle," warned Maxime, to Hermione's obvious surprise. "You are not too far behind, but your teachers are clearly not teaching up to standard in either subject."
Hermione's jaw flapped for a moment before she pulled herself back together. "I'll make sure we catch up," she said determinedly. It was clear she was slightly embarrassed, but obviously they wouldn't tease her about it.
"Overall, you both did very well, especially considering the standards at 'ogwarts," she assessed. "I do not know if you are aware, but is no secret that educational standards have declined at your former school over the course of the last half century."
Harry and Hermione exchanged dark looks. Fleur was sure she'd get an earful later, from Hermione at a minimum. She doubted that they had been made aware of what truly was common knowledge outside of Britain: the educational standards here were in the toilet. Some employers were even starting to require British candidates to sit the international version of the NEWTs before they would consider them.
"I'm going to place you in fourth form with your peers," said Maxime when they recovered from that bombshell, "but you will need to study especially hard in the problem areas to catch up, or your grades will suffer."
"We will," promised Hermione. "I'll make sure."
"She will, too," agreed Harry, rolling his eyes again. Hermione slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but was smiling.
From there it was a discussion about how things would work at Beauxbatons, and how they would be different from life at Hogwarts. Really, there wasn't too much in the latter category — a school was a school for the most part — and most of the differences were specific to their tournament circumstances.
Fleur paid little attention, though; she was too busy enjoying the relief she felt knowing that her husband was out from under the old man's thumb, and that he had made it into his appropriate year group.
===[~]===
Harry and Hermione adapted very quickly to life at Beauxbatons over the course of the following week. It wasn't actually that hard to do, as there were no actual classes. Their year group wasn't even present at the Tournament, and even if it had been, they would have been unable to strip the teachers from the school proper.
The result was a great deal of self-study. Maxime and a couple of others were available if students had questions, but largely they were learning from the books at their own pace, and then taking tests every couple of weeks to ensure that they were learning the right things.
In the long run, Harry would be shocked to discover just how well this form of learning suited him.
Simply reading the Beauxbatons Potions book was eye-opening. Once he started to truly overcome the language barrier, the information contained within made the subject actually make sense for a change. Had Snape explained things as well as that book did — or at all for that matter — Harry would have been much better off in that class.
He also found Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to be fairly easy. He was simply a natural at Runes, and Arithmancy at their level was little different to Muggle mathematics, which he'd already had years of prior to Hogwarts. It would get harder and more magical in later years, but they just weren't there yet.
Toward the end of that first week, Hermione worked out a revision schedule that would have them caught up with their peers within the next couple of months. What was shocking about it was that she hadn't packed every last available moment — apparently she'd learned something about having fun in preceding years.
Or maybe she just wanted some alone time with Neville; who knew?
Either way, it was reasonable, and made Harry feel much more confident in his decision to transfer. As necessary as he had felt it at the time, it had also struck him as quite rash. Now, at least, it looked like he wouldn't suffer for it.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
"You are thinking too hard," came his wife's soft voice from next to him; they had taken up speaking French in private to help him learn. He felt her scoot in closer, and closed his eyes in pleasure when she started carding her fingers through his hair.
"Sorry," he said softly. "It's just been a long week with the transfer and all."
"Do you regret it?" she asked curiously.
"Never," he replied immediately.
Harry didn't bother to struggle when Fleur tugged him over onto his back. His pulse quickened as she climbed atop him and started into his eyes from mere inches away.
"Good," she said decisively.
Harry smiled at his wife, and moments later they were lost in a kiss that would quickly lead to things that Harry could never even have imagined before all this started.
Perhaps the Tournament was a good thing after all.
Chapter 35
The Order of Merlin
The remainder of the week passed rapidly, and then it was gone — and the threatened Order of Merlin presentation was suddenly upon them. Harry wasn't even remotely thrilled about this. He truly did not want to be seen in the same light as Pettigrew, Lockhart, and Dumbledore.
But Fleur had convinced him of the utility, and so here he was.
He was surprised that Dumbledore hadn't tried to put a stop to it, but Fleur suggested that it was simply political capital that he didn't want to expend. Harry thought she was probably right. The man's notable absence from the proceedings, however, was a petty statement that he did not approve.
Not that Harry cared; he preferred it that way, in fact.
The presentation was taking place in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. While Harry thought that was odd — didn't they have ballrooms or something for this sort of thing? — a makeshift stage was set up along one wall, with that particularly obnoxious fountain off to the side where it would not have pride of place.
Thank Merlin for small mercies.
The stage itself was draped in white, and a lectern stood atop it, awaiting the Minister's pleasure. Harry almost expected there to be chairs behind and to either side of it so that he and Fleur could be put on display, but they were mercifully absent. Instead they would sit in the front row of the audience and be called forward.
The room was packed with people, mostly from the upper echelons of society, clustered around various tables full of finger foods. Harry knew few of them, but easily recognized Neville's Gran talking to Madam Bones. Others were far less familiar, though he did vaguely recognize many as members of the Wizengamot.
It mattered little; he had no interest in hobnobbing.
The scrutiny they were under was distinctly uncomfortable, and it was only Fleur's presence at his side that enabled him to endure it with any level of equanimity. He hated his fame, and he hated attention, and he really didn't feel the need to be on display to receive a pretty bauble, just for defending that unfortunate young woman from Snape's malicious idiocy.
And that unfortunate young woman had just found them.
She was a thin, average-height, next door sort of girl with brown hair, brown eyes, and a friendly face. Her hair was pulled up in a bun that gave her a severe look a la Professor McGonagall, and that was the only thing that at all obscured the fact that she was probably just out of Hogwarts.
"Mr. Potter?" she called quietly.
Harry smiled slightly at her, but otherwise remained silent as she approached. She seemed nice enough at first glance, but the crowd was pressing in on him as always. It tended to make him not want to speak.
"I'm Janice O'Connor," she continued. "I just wanted to thank you. If not for you, I… I would probably be dead."
"You're welcome," he replied softly. "Though to be fair, if I hadn't been there Snape might not have cast at all."
O'Connor blinked bemusedly, and Fleur chuckled. "Do not mind my 'usband," she smirked. "'E is far too modest for 'is own good."
O'Connor smiled genuinely back at Fleur. "I never would have guessed", she said with a shake of her head. "For all that he's famous, nobody really knows much about him."
The conversation might have continued, but O'Connor's eyes suddenly widened as she spotted something over Harry's shoulder. "Sorry, I need to go," she said abruptly. "And Mrs. Potter, you'll just have to forgive me for this."
The young woman suddenly reached in and grabbed Harry in a tight hug, finishing the gesture with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.
And then she was gone before he could even respond.
A glance at Fleur showed that she was grinning down at him, to his relief, but he had little time to contemplate that. O'Connor had clearly been scared away by something, and that something — or rather, someone, was now upon them.
"One not enough for you, Potter?" came the silky drawl of none other than Lucius Malfoy.
The man came around from behind them, cane in hand, acting like he owned the place, as always. Harry internally berated himself; he should have guessed that the elder Malfoy would be here, and should have had a strategy ready for dealing with him. He didn't, though.
The only responses that came to mind were childish — "Jealous, Malfoy?" — and he did not want to be considered so. And so he just raised an eyebrow at the supposedly adult father of his self-appointed schoolyard nemesis.
"Is there something we can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked simply.
In the background, a reporter from the Daily Prophet started heading their direction, obviously having overheard the start of the conversation.
"Oh, I was just wondering how you convinced your creature to put up with you having real women on the side," was Malfoy's airy response. "They do tend to be rather territorial."
Unfortunately for Malfoy, he'd miscalculated.
Gasps erupted around them at the boldness of the insult, and Harry noted the widening eyes of the Prophet reporter, who Malfoy had apparently missed in his haste to insult The Boy Who Lived. Yes, this was going to cost the elder Malfoy if Harry had any say in the matter. He could easily feel Fleur's tension through their joined hands, and wasn't about to let this go unanswered.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to let her know that he would handle it.
Many people presumed that Harry was a pushover, but they were very, very wrong. Even Hermione, who was a force of nature most days, would not oppose him when he felt strongly about something. It was, simply put, a losing proposition.
And he felt very strongly about insults to his wife.
Harry never put on airs and graces, but he had to think quickly. The best way to deal with this, he figured – the way that would be most painful to Malfoy – would be to play at the cultured, respectable front that Malfoy only wished he represented. If Malfoy wanted to be an arse, then maybe everybody should know exactly how much of an arse he really was.
With that in mind, Harry shook his head slowly in apparent disappointment. "Really, Mr. Malfoy?" he sniffed. "You can't find anything to insult me about, so you attempt to insult my wife?" Here he took a moment to look away and brush a bit of imaginary lint off his shoulder. "How utterly… plebeian," he continued, shaking his head despairingly. "Now I know where Draco gets it from."
"You dare?!" snarled Malfoy.
While Harry was fairly certain that Malfoy wouldn't be foolish enough to attack here, he still did a mental check on the location of his wand. Then he turned to his wife, who was staring at Malfoy through narrowed eyes.
There were no feathers yet, but it was only a matter of time at the rate the man was going.
"This is where his son would say, 'When my father hears about this'," he confided in an obvious stage whisper. "I'm half expecting to hear 'When my wife hears about this'. She was a Black after all, so a bit more impressive than a mere Malfoy."
Unexpected laughter erupted from the growing crowd around them — the sort that says that the joke was even funnier because it was true, and everybody knew it. It took all of Harry's considerable willpower to keep the smirk off his face and maintain a politely disinterested look. Fleur was nearly vibrating with mirth, but was likewise mastering it admirably.
Malfoy could only stand there in shock at first, and then he transitioned into a simmering, impotent rage. His knuckles turned white where his hands were wrapped around the head of his cane, and his eyes narrowed into angry slits. Harry mentally chalked up a point for himself, though he was certain he'd just borrowed a fair bit of trouble for the future.
And then Sebastian showed up.
He had perfect timing.
"Well, isn't this interesting," he opined, easily pushing through the crowd that had begun to develop around them. "A Death Eater attempting to 'arass the child credited with the defeat of 'is Dark Lord. I do 'ope the aurors are paying attention."
"You dare?!" hissed Malfoy again, even more incensed now. "I was under the Imperius Curse! Everyone knows that!"
"Everyone knows you're a weak-minded fool?" countered Sebastian, causing the crowd this time to suck in a collective breath. "That went without saying," he continued blithely. "But really, Monsieur Malfoy, if you want me to believe that you are not a willing Death Eater, then you will 'ave to state it under Veritaserum or magical Oath."
After a brief pause, Sebastian continued, "Something you never did, I might add. Would you like to?" Gesturing at a tall, dark-skinned, red-robed Auror who was approaching from the same direction as the reporter he finished, "I am certain one of the fine aurors present 'ere would be 'appy to 'elp out."
And Harry immediately recognized that the game had just radically changed.
Where he was merely trying to make Malfoy look like the buffoon he was (preferably in front of the press), Sebastian was going for the jugular. Harry approved wholeheartedly given the man's history, and certainly wasn't going to sit it out. He certainly hadn't forgotten his second year.
"I'll even cover the cost if you choose the Veritaserum," he offered with utmost seriousness, all pretense suddenly falling away. "If you truly are innocent, then society should know that beyond doubt, Mr. Malfoy. We wouldn't want people to think that you would happily torture or murder them if they opposed you, would we? That iswhat Death Eaters did, you know?"
Malfoy's complexion got progressively paler — something Harry didn't think was possible for the albino prick — as he and Sebastian double-teamed him. It would seem that nobody had ever dared to call him out on his "imperius defense" in public before. Nobody had ever challenged him to prove it.
"You're going to meet a sticky end, boy," Lucius growled suddenly, glaring down at Harry, "just like your parents before you."
The crowd gasped again, and Harry felt Fleur's tension ratchet up a few notches next to him.
But Sebastian was on the ball. "Auror," he called calmly, turning to the man who had come up behind Malfoy, "this man just threatened the life of my son-in-law. I wish to press charges, and as my son-in-law is not of age and is in my care, I do have that authority."
"I heard," rumbled the Auror. "Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for deadly threats against the Head of an Ancient House. Surrender your wand."
Harry decided that Sebastian's charge wasn't good enough, though; it was too easy to wriggle out of it with word games. Not that he thought Malfoy wouldn't escape what he had in mind, but it was worth a shot. And to that end–
"Add a charge of attempted murder two years ago," he added helpfully. "He tried to cast the Killing Curse on me, but got dumped on his arse by a House Elf before he could finish it. I'd have pressed charges at the time, but you know how it is at Hogwarts."
Harry – and most of the impromptu audience gathered around them – expected little more than a nasty retort from Malfoy. If they were lucky, that would be followed by Malfoy being dragged off to a holding cell for the night. Harry was certain the man would be free again by the morning.
What they got, however, was not what they expected.
At all.
"So noted, Mr. Potter," agreed the Auror. "We'll need you to come in and give an official statement on the incident, however."
"Of course," nodded Harry.
The conversation might have continued, except that Malfoy — who had yet to be restrained — suddenly snatched his wand out of the handle of his cane and whipped it up to point at Harry.
"AVADA—"
"Stupefy!"
Far from being an idiot, Harry had been on edge and ready for a fight from the moment he saw the man. They had also been backing him into a corner — which, while richly deserved, was also dangerous. Malfoy was a killer, of this he was certain. And so, quite fortunately, he was prepared.
It just so happened that a stunner was far faster to cast than the Killing Curse — and Fleur had apparently had the same thoughts; she had cast right along with him. He smiled up at her in thanks, and she just gave him a one-armed hug, her wand still held steady in her other hand.
Meanwhile, silence spread through the room, followed by quiet, shocked murmurs as more and more people realized — or were informed of — what had just transpired. Lucius Malfoy had just tried — and failed — to kill the Boy Who Lived! In public!
"I guess that makes it two counts of attempted murder," mused Sebastian idly.
Harry just nodded in agreement with his father-in-law. For once he could actually be calm in the middle of yet another storm.
It was so nice having a family to help him!
===[~]===
It took a short while to get Malfoy corralled and off to a holding cell, and Harry spent that time considering the events of the evening so far — and couldn't help but feel that he was missing something. Malfoy wasn't a total idiot, and what he'd just done was clearly an idiot's move. He had just attempted to cast the Killing Curse in public for no real reason.
"Why would he do this?" he asked nobody in particular. "I'm sure he could've gotten out of anything we threw at him."
"Actually, no," said the Auror, glancing up from the pad he was scribbling on, having just finished interviewing Sebastian. "Underage or not, you are the Head of an Ancient House, Mr. Potter. While Purebloods are exempt from the use of Veritaserum under most circumstances, that does not apply to those accused of crimes against the Heirs or Heads of Ancient or Noble Houses. It's one of the few exceptions to that law."
"Auror Shacklebolt is correct," agreed Sebastian. "I was going to use that exception to try to get 'im to confess under Veritaserum to being a Death Eater. That law, by the way, is why Voldemort 'imself was almost always the one to target 'eirs or 'eads of 'ouse during the war."
Shacklebolt nodded his agreement with Sebastian's point. "It's also why Bellatrix Lestrange and her ilk ended up in Azkaban where so many others didn't." Switching tracks he then explained, "Unless you were falsely accusing him, Malfoy was headed for Azkaban. Since he decided to go out with a bang, I can easily deduce that your accusation was true."
Harry just shook his head. "I really wish people would explain these things to me. I really would have dealt with him two years ago if I'd known."
"You will learn, 'Arry," his father-in-law reassured him. "It will just take some time is all."
"Eet worked out in ze end," grinned an eminently satisfied Fleur. "'E certainly got more zan 'e bargained for from 'is insults."
Harry couldn't suppress his smirk at that thought.
===[~]===
The commotion from the arrest was surprisingly short-lived. They simply dragged Malfoy off to a holding cell (one that he was now unlikely to get out of via bribes given the oh-so-public nature of the offense), briefly interviewed a few people, and that was that. Harry, Fleur, and her father were so nonchalant about the whole thing, both during and after, that it turned into something of a non-event.
Fleur could only think of that as a good thing: it made Malfoy look utterly incompetent, and the rest of the Death Eaters would lose a lot of their mystique as a result. Malfoy was known to be one of their most dangerous, even if people were pretending that he was innocent.
It would likely be a long time before the true effects would be known, however.
Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand, was no fool. She had stayed away from the confrontation, and after it was over she cautiously approached Harry and Fleur and offered an unreserved apology for the behavior of her husband on behalf of House Malfoy. Harry, of course, accepted, albeit with a polite, veiled warning to let her son know that things had changed.
He clearly wasn't going to tolerate Draco Malfoy's bull any longer, and Draco was his father's son. Even Fleur knew that, merely as a guest in the castle.
Harry's "when my father hears" comment was spot on, as the British liked to say, and every student from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang already knew it.
Minister Fudge arrived — fashionably late, of course — only ten minutes after Malfoy had been removed from play. It didn't take long for him to learn of it, and he was positively stunned. Worse for him, he couldn't blame Harry, since Harry had been polite the entire time, and Malfoy had led with insults to Harry's wife.
That was considered grounds for a duel in Wizarding high society, so it was considered to be purely Malfoy's fault.
Fudge proved to be slightly less incompetent than Fleur would have imagined from Harry's stories, however. He quickly recovered ("I say! I never would have expected this of Lucius! Of course he'll see justice!"), and eventually moved on with the ceremony. It didn't take long — they were the only two recipients — and then it was on to the reception.
Perhaps wisely, Fudge did not ask them to make speeches.
For her part, Fleur stuck to her husband like glue. She well remembered how hard the wedding reception was on him, and this was very similar. She simply stayed as close as she was able, and offered whatever support she could.
Everyone wanted to shake their hands, and a sizable percentage of the crowd – including many Wizengamot members – also wanted to congratulate them on the successful takedown of Lucius Malfoy. The man was notorious, and had made very few friends.
Madam Bones also stopped to chat (and, to congratulate them on the Malfoy incident, over which she was genuinely thrilled), and introduced Augusta Longbottom briefly at the same time, though Harry already knew of her, by sight at the least. Fleur gathered very quickly that the woman was Neville's grandmother.
She rather pitied the boy; Augusta Longbottom absolutely epitomized the term, "dragon lady," the ugly stuffed vulture she wore on her hat notwithstanding.
It wasn't until almost the end of the evening, however, that Minister Fudge finally found the opportunity to corner them privately.
"Mr. Potter," he said, his bearing giving every appearance of genuine remorse, "I'm truly sorry about what happened earlier. I don't know what's gotten into Lucius, but rest assured that justice will be done. If there is anything I can do for you…"
Fleur certainly didn't miss the calculating look that flitted over Harry's features, and she doubted that Fudge did either. She had a suspicion of where he would go with it, and sure enough–
"Actually, there is one thing," he said thoughtfully.
"Oh?" inquired Fudge, a sudden bout of nerves showing in the way he started twirling his bowler hat with his fingers.
"You remember, of course, what happened last year," he said quietly. And then he held a hand up to stall Fudge before the man could arc up. "I know that you were blatantly lied to by Snape and probably Dumbledore," he continued, "but we know better about those two now, don't we?"
Fudge's expression went from surprise to deep thought at that statement. The bowler stilled in his hands.
"Snape hated the man in school, and for whatever reason hates me," he explained, "so there's no surprise that he would lie about what he saw. As for Dumbledore, he needed Sirius out of the way to keep control of me, because Sirius Black is my godfather and would have taken custody."
Fudge's eyes widened at this bit of information. It was clear that he hadn't known that before.
"We told you the truth," said Harry quietly. "Pettigrew is alive. Sirius is innocent. If you truly want to help me, then help me by arranging a trial for Sirius. He never had one."
"A trial?" inquired Fudge in genuine surprise.
"Of course!" confirmed Harry. "That way he can prove his innocence beyond the shadow of a doubt."
"Unlike Lucius Malfoy" was left unsaid, but Fleur — and probably the Minister — heard it just fine. It was also a good point; a pardon wouldn't be enough to satisfy the public. And with Magical France pushing for a trial anyway…
Fleur could see the Minister dithering, and decided to give another small push, though she ensured her allure was locked down as tight as she could manage. It wouldn't do to get caught using it for something like this. Nor would she ever dream of it.
"It would be magnifique, would it not?" she mused absently. "Correcting ze miscarriage of justice from ze – 'ow do you say? – ze previous administration, non? It would be so 'eroic!"
"She's right," smiled Harry. But then he turned serious again. "And while I don't know for sure, I'd be willing to bet that Dumbledore's name is all over him being sent to Azkaban without a trial in the first place."
Fudge slowly started to nod; it was easy to see the wheels turning in his head. "You might be right about that, Harry," he said. "Let me see what I can do. I believe Mr. Black is in France, so perhaps we can get him here for a trial."
"I would be very grateful, Minister," smiled Harry.
And that made Fudge's day.
Chapter 36
Draco Dethroned
Nearly two months had now passed since the wedding. It didn't seem that long, and yet — to Harry, at least — it felt like a lot longer. In that time they had managed to get Snape convicted and sentenced to Azkaban; received Orders of Merlin over the incident he caused in the aftermath; lost Ron as a friend; Harry transferred to Beauxbatons to thwart Dumbledore's control; and got Lucius Malfoy arrested for attempted murder.
It was a lot for only two months, but that seemed to be the story of Harry's life.
Things in the castle went on mostly unchanged, with the exception being that Harry and Hermione no longer took all of their classes with their year mates. Theydid take McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout up on their offers, though; all three were excellent teachers. They weren't too fussed about any of the other classes, though, and simply did self-study there.
Dumbledore could be seen staring at them at almost every meal, but they generally ignored him.
One thing Harry was still waiting for was an announcement of a trial for his godfather. The Minister had seemed sincere in his agreement to arrange it, but it had yet to happen. He combed through the paper every day, but so far there was nothing.
Today, however, something else was afoot, as was soon made apparent by the sudden murmurs spreading in the Great Hall:
Goblins Eject Dumbledore From Gringott's!
by Daphne Love
In a bizarre scene on Tuesday afternoon, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was physically thrown from Gringott's Bank in Diagon Alley by a pack of security goblins. Bystanders reported that Dumbledore was yelling at the goblins in their native language during the incident, but nobody was available to translate. The goblins then closed the doors and refused to readmit him.
While they would not share specific reasons, a spokesgoblin for Gringotts had this to say: "Mr. Dumbledore has deeply offended the Goblin Nation. He is no longer welcome on any goblin lands, including Gringott's Wizard Bank. This decision will stand until such time as our ruler sees fit to revoke it."
So what does this mean for Dumbledore? Nothing was said about his accounts, so we can only assume that he will be able to access them by proxy. But what did he do to anger the Goblins? While they are known for reacting harshly when offended, it is not easy to offend a goblin.
Questions are piling up surrounding Albus Dumbledore. Is he suffering from some form of mental breakdown? With his recent impassioned defense of convicted child abuser and Death Eater Severus Snape, and now his ejection from Gringott's, one can only wonder.
Perhaps we should borrow from the words of Fleur Potter, who recently verbally accosted him in the Great Hall at Hogwarts: if he cannot remember her proper name, and does not know what goes on in his own school, then what else is he forgetting, and how much is he missing?
Harry just stared at the article. It was one thing for the Goblins to throw Dumbledore out — it was inevitable really once they knew the nature of his transgressions against Harry — but for Dumbledore to make a scene in the Alley for all to see? It seemed that the man was well and truly losing his touch.
"An amateur mistake," opined Fleur from next to him. "Nevair let zem see you sweat, I believe is ze phrase."
"I have to agree with you there," frowned Neville from across the table. "Gran would skin me alive if I made that kind of scene in public. It's just not done."
"I don't think he's used to losing," Hermione guessed. "It's putting him off his game, but don't underestimate him. If he adapts, he could still be very dangerous."
Nobody disagreed with that sentiment.
Everyone in the Hall was so focused on the issue with Dumbledore and the Goblins, however, that they almost missed an even more momentous occasion, described by a long article buried on page three:
Lucius Malfoy Sentenced To Life In Azkaban
by L. McDonald
After a trial that lasted for nearly a week, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, 40, was sentenced late last night to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban Prison. While the trial itself was the result of events that took place at the awarding of the Order of Merlin to Harry and Fleur Potter, the final list of charges stems largely — though not entirely — from the previous war.
Before the ceremony, Malfoy was heard to insult Fleur Potter. This led to her father, Sebastian Delacour, challenging the validity of Malfoy's famous claim of being under the Imperius Curse when serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter even offered to pay for Veritaserum to ensure that the truth was known, ostensibly to protect Malfoy's reputation.
It was shortly thereafter that Malfoy attempted to kill Potter with the Killing Curse right there in the Ministry atrium. He failed; both Potters stunned him before he could complete the casting.
While he was convicted of that and one other charge of attempted murder against Potter, it was his crimes in the last war that took so long to adjudicate. It was conclusively proven under Veritaserum that Lucius Malfoy was not, in fact, under Imperius; he willingly took his Dark Lord's mark.
Once that was known, his actions during the war were deeply questioned. This revealed a sordid history of torture, rape, and murder going back more than twenty years. Lucius Malfoy, who always portrayed himself as a pillar of our society, has now been revealed as the lowest of the low.
Minister Fudge was appalled by the crimes of his long time benefactor. "I had no idea," he told this reporter. "If I had, I would have had him arrested a long time ago. It's absolutely disgusting. If the last administration had simply not let these people go without proper questioning, then this would have been dealt with long ago."
Fudge was, of course, referring to former Minister Bagnold and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, who worked together to arrange amnesty for the supposedly Imperiused Death Eaters, without any form of surety such as Veritaserum.
The final nail in the proverbial coffin, however, was much more recent. It was proven that, two years ago, Malfoy unleashed on the innocent students of Hogwarts a dangerous artifact that once belonged to his Dark Lord. A half dozen students were petrified, and it was nothing short of a miracle that no children were killed.
The culprit? A sixty foot long, thousand year old basilisk, that in the end was killed not by Albus Dumbledore, but instead by Harry Potter, who was only twelve years old at the time. It is our view at the Daily Prophet that Mr. Potter deserves another Order of Merlin for that alone!
The creation and release of a basilisk is considered one of the most heinous crimes a wizard can commit. While Malfoy may not have created the creature, his actions saw it released. His actual sentence was ten lifetimes for that alone — a symbolic gesture by the Wizengamot indicating that his crimes are well beyond forgiveness.
Other sanctions include a hefty fine against the Malfoy estate that will reduce their coffers to a mere shadow of what they once were. More than nine tenths of the value of the estate will be split amongst the Ministry, the victims of the basilisk, and Potter, who saved our children by slaying the beast.
Only time will tell how the rest of the Malfoy family will weather this devastating blow, brought upon them by their own Head of House committing countless atrocities that no right-minded witch or wizard would ever even contemplate.
Given the nature of the mentions of his name in the article, Harry was relieved that it was buried. He didn't need any more attention. Of course, that lasted right up until Draco Malfoy found it only moments later, at which point the fact that it was buried lost all relevance.
"POTTER!" he roared from the Slytherin table. Then he surged up from his seat. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU'RE DEAD, POTTER!"
Harry quickly got to his feet, along with his friends. Unlike with the boy's father, he had no need to hide that he was ready to fight, and drew his wand without hesitation. He was dimly aware of his wife and friends readying themselves as well.
It was only seconds later that the first curse was cast from halfway across the hall, even as Malfoy rushed toward him, his face a rictus of hatred.
"DIFFINDO!" the boy roared.
Screams erupted from the other students, and they dove under the House tables. Flitwick and McGonagall — two of the four adults at the head table, the other two being Vector and Dumbledore — rose and started hurrying their way. Dumbledore just sat there, and Vector wasn't a fighter.
For his part, Harry batted the spell into a wall, where it obliterated a chunk of stone and sprayed everyone nearby with the resulting dust and grit.
"Lucius was responsible for his own crimes, Malfoy," he said clearly. "If you want to join him in Azkaban, then by all means continue and I'll put you down and turn you over to the Aurors. Otherwise, go sit down. Now!"
But Malfoy wasn't capable of listening, not that he ever had been. He was nearly at point blank range now, and his wand came up again. "AVADA-" he began—
— only to be put down by no less than seven stunners before he could finish: Two from Harry and Fleur, two from Neville and Hermione, two from the Weasley Twins, and one from Ginny, who was sitting at the next table over at the time. She was one of the few others not to dive under the tables.
A stark silence fell as Malfoy collapsed, and McGonagall and Flitwick finally arrived.
"What is ze saying?" mused Fleur after a moment. "Like Fazzer like Son?"
Harry snorted, but otherwise ignored her for the moment, no matter how accurate the comment was. "Neville?" he called. "Please go call Madam Bones and tell her we need Aurors here."
"I've got it, Harry!" called Susan from elsewhere in the Hall.
"That won't be necessary, Miss Bones," said Dumbledore, finally standing up from his throne. "There's no need to involve the Aurors."
If they thought it had been silent before, the silence now was positively deafening. The entire student body — plus a couple of dozen students from two foreign schools — had clearly heard the boy start the incantation for the Killing Curse. And now Dumbledore was going to try to excuse it?
Everyone was stunned!
"Susan, Neville, both of you go now," growled Harry suddenly. "Stay together, and don't let anyone interfere."
They went.
"That's not necessary, Harry," said Dumbledore in a placating tone of voice as the rest of the school started climbing out form under the tables. "He is simply overwrought. I'm sure he didn't mean it."
That the feathers barely stopped sprouting at the base of Fleur's neck was a testament to her struggle to contain her anger. "'E just tried to murder my 'usband wiz ze Killing Curse right in front of you," she growled with slow deliberation, "and you say 'e did not mean it? You are— you are— insensée!"
"And that's to say nothing of the other students he endangered in the process," agreed Harry. "I don't care if he was overwrought, as you say. He just tried to kill me, Headmaster, and I will see him charged for that."
"I'm sure–" started Dumbledore.
"Nothing can ever excuse the use of an Unforgivable Curse, Albus!" Flitwick suddenly rode over the top of him. "That's why they're called Unforgivable in the first place. But even had he not tried to use that curse, using any potentially lethal curse in an offensive manner, as he did with the cutting curse he cast, is grounds for immediate and unconditional expulsion!"
"Now, Filius–"
"STOP!" roared Flitwick. "This is not a discussion, Albus! If you try to quash this you will be looking for a new staff before the end of the day, and that's assuming you're not in a Ministry holding cell yourself. And we will be advising every parent to pull their children out because the Headmaster cares more for the happiness and well-being of a would-be murderer than for the safety of their innocent children!"
Harry could see the majority of heads nodding in agreement with the sentiment, and Dumbledore looked completely flummoxed by the resistance. Silence reigned for almost a full minute as Flitwick and Dumbledore stared each other down. And just when Dumbledore looked like he was going to speak again–
"Don't even think about it, Albus," McGonagall warned flatly. "I agree with Filius, as I think does everyone else in this room bar you."
Dumbledore huffed. "This is my school, Minerva," he complained.
"No, it's damn well not!" came a stern voice from the entrance hall.
Harry turned in time to see Madam Bones striding briskly into the room with a number of Aurors in tow, including Auror Tonks, who winked at him when she saw him looking. He couldn't help but smile back a little. She seemed like a nice lady, even if her hair was an odd shade of purple today.
"Hogwarts belongs to Britain," Bones continued, "and its policies and procedures are set by the Board of Governors. You don't get to reinterpret the rules as you see fit, Dumbledore, you may only enforce them as written. A Headmaster is an administrator, not a bloody dictator."
Dumbledore looked like he'd sucked on a lemon at that statement — probably because he knew it to be true. Not that he wouldn't go back to doing things his own way the moment Madam Bones was out the door. It was his way after all.
After examining the scene — including determining the last spells cast by the various wands involved — Bones turned to Harry. "What happened?" she asked simply.
"He saw the article in the Daily Prophet about his Dad going to prison and decided to take it out on me," sighed Harry. "He cast a cutting curse at me, and tried to cast the Killing Curse, and I want him charged with both. If he could do that in public without a care, I shudder to think what he will eventually get up to when nobody is looking."
"Shacklebolt!" called Bones. "Cuff him and put him in a holding cell!"
"Yes, ma'am," responded the same Auror that had arrested Lucius, and then he was moving.
"Is this really necessary, Amelia?" protested Dumbledore.
"Yes," said Bones flatly. "This is a criminal matter, Dumbledore. He broke one of our highest laws, and you should have been the one reporting it, not the one trying to sweep it under the rug. Hogwarts is a school. It is not the DMLE or the courts!"
"But he's just a young boy!" protested Dumbledore, "and he had quite the shock this morning! I'm sure he wouldn't have done this under normal circumstances."
"I don't care, Dumbledore," ground out Bones. "I. Don't. Care. Anyone who can cast a Killing Curse without thought, can cast it with malice aforethought. We don't need that kind of person running loose in our society."
That statement brought a massive round of applause from almost every student in the Hall, to Dumbledore's obvious horror — including many of the Slytherins, Harry noted with interest.
"Sucks to be Malfoy," noted a twin under cover of the din.
"Yup," agreed the other. "Looks like the Dementors will be taking delivery of a pet ferret."
"They even have a cage all ready for him," agreed the first.