A/N: The inspiration for this – and the credit/blame – lies largely with AmZ. Oh, and a little bit with Jester and Ginger, who have yet to catch a criminal or return a stolen tiara, but have provided me with hours of entertainment.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why"

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, J K Rowling

"They have always understood a great deal more that they let on. It is difficult to be sat on all day, every day, by some other creature, without forming an opinion about them.
On the other hand, it is perfectly possible to sit all day, every day, on top of another creature and not have the slightest though about them whatsoever."
Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency[Horses have] always understood a great deal more than they let on. It is difficult to be sat on, all day, every day, by some other creature without forming an opinion about them"

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, Douglas Adams

There is a story still sometimes told by the old men and goodwives in Montreuil sur Mer and its environs, a comical story which has passed almost into the realm of the folk tale. The story is usually titled "How Monsieur Javert came to purchase That Horse, and Monsieur Bamatabois did not". This story has a sequel, unusual in being even more amusing than its predecessor - "In which Inspector Javert's English stallion eats Mayor Madeleine's hat" (this story too has its sequel - "How the town found out that Mayor Madeleine was not at all what they thought him" which is the most exciting of them all, but not told with the same thigh slapping humour as the other two, unsurprising given its end)

Not that Maitre Scaufflaire could have imagined making such a great contribution to the town's archive of lore and gossip when he returned from a horse fair in Lille with two grey horses in the late spring of 1820. All he felt was smug at his bargain, and all he anticipated was making a very healthy profit. However, the best laid plans of mice and horse dealers . . . let us just say that Scaufflaire soon found himself 'saddled' with some problems.

The first of these beasts, a little dappled, ugly Boulonais, had been sold to Scaufflaire as "swift as the wind, gentle as a girl". Both these things he was indeed – but he was also unridable. But Monsieur Scaufflaire was a resourceful man – he named the little gelding Trouble and put him between the shafts of a cart. Trouble was more amenable to this and Scaufflaire ended up more than recouping his investment loaning him out to those who did not keep their own carriage. Since little Trouble was far too well mannered to eat a hat, and did not result in the humiliation of M. Bamatabois at the unwitting hands of Inspector Javert, you may put him out of your mind for now (do not forget him completely though – he plays a pivotal, though silent, role in the third story of the trilogy above)

The second grey horse had initially seemed like a far more inviting proposition. He was certainly the most splendid horse to be seen in the district for quite some time – seventeen hands of pure English thoroughbred, white as the first snows and built for speed. More or less fanciful rumours began to spread about the horse's provenance from the get go – he had been bred by the Duke of Wellington, he was a descendant of Eclipse, he had been imported from across the Channel by a Marquis who had then been forced to flee the country in circumstances which were not discussed in polite circles in the Pas de Calais. And, most curious of all, Scaufflaire had paid less for this equine paragon than one might ordinarily pay for a donkey!

It soon became clear why, and 'That Horse' became something of a local celebrity. The horse had come to Scaufflaire named Maximus. Scaufflaire briefly considered renaming him Pain-In-The-Arse, but eventually decided this to be frivolous. So the big white stallion remained as Maximus, and by and large Monsieur Scaufflaire tried to forget about him (and the amount of hay he was eating). One day he would find someone daft enough to buy him. One day. Wouldn't he?

But two such foolish people? Two foolish grown men prepared to make a wager over the beast? That idea had never occurred to Scaufflaire at all . . .