Chapter One: Going to France

For the first time ever, Harry's summer had not involved dodging relatives, covertly moving around or evading Death Eaters. Instead, he was dodging journalists, politicians, authors and the general public. It almost made him pine for Privet Drive. Almost. He had settled in to Grimmauld's Place after spending a couple weeks with the Weasleys, but he felt wrong intruding on their grieving. He had plenty of grieving to do himself. So many had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. So many friends. He had been keeping busy, after resting and attending to far too many funerals.

Shacklebolt had enlisted him and Ron into the Aurors, who needed all resources to round up the remaining death eaters. Hermione had found herself knee deep in the fascinating world of administration and legislation, seemingly sleeping at the ministry in an attempt to right the ship.

But now, four months on, Harry had nothing to do. The sudden defeat of Voldemort had thrown his ranks into chaos, with Death Eaters falling over themselves to rat out their comrades for milder sentences. It had been a few busy months, but Azkaban was filled to the brim with people awaiting trials, or already found guilty.

Harry was utterly exhausted. He had trouble sleeping, replaying seeing his friends die over and over, waking up sweating. He had taken to dulling the pain with some firewhiskey before bed, but while it allowed him to fall asleep, it did little for his nightmares. He could not go anywhere without people flocking around him, thanking him, crying, asking questions, shaking his hand. The hero-worship truly made him uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice. What made it worse was that he had no one to turn to. Everyone had lost someone, and his closest friends had too much on their plates as it was.

He felt trapped and alone, with everyone busing themselves with rebuilding the wizarding society of Britain. Even Ginny was gone, returning to Hogwarts for her final year. Their goodbye had been awkward, neither of them being sure where they stood, and with so much else going on.

And now he had been put on leave, after his Auror partner had been killed taking down the last die-hards. Yet another life lost defending Harry's life. The list was getting quite long. With nothing left but redecorating Grimmauld's Place 12, he was simply cabin crazy. He had a sudden pang of deep sympathy with Sirius, who had been cooped up here for a year.

Harry sighed to himself and retreated to his study, where he resolutely went through the pile of mail that kept appearing every day. Mostly it was letters of gratitude, well wishes and the like, with some requests for interviews or lunch appointments thrown in for good measure. He was almost done with the pile when an owl flew in through the open study window, a thick envelope bearing the seal of Hogwarts tied to its leg. It gave a hoot and stretched its leg out to him expectantly. His curiosity peaked; he untied the envelope and tore it open to see a neat handwriting he recognized.

Dear Mr. Potter.
I was saddened to hear about your recent trouble in the pursuit of a safer Britain. The loss of Mr. Thomas Scurry was a great one, especially after so much has already been lost. I regret that I have not had the time to visit with you in person, but as I am sure you can imagine, my appointment has left me little time for rest. There is a lot to rebuild, and many losses to get through. But I digress. I am writing you in the hopes that we can be of mutual help to one another. I know you must be quite in need of something to do, so I have a proposal.

My colleague from Bauxbatons have in her correspondence with me expressed her desire for a skilled candidate to teach classes in Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts. While our sisters and brothers across the channel have an excellent academic institution, they are sadly lacking when it comes to the more -mill spellcasting. Madame Maxime requested I forward a few names I think will fit the position, and as you are both well versed in fighting overwhelming odds, and teaching other young rascals to so, with surprisingly good results I might add, I wish to recommend you.

Now, I know you might have reservations about this, but it will only be for a semester or two to begin with. You should know that there is some unrest on the continent. Even as we are rebuilding, trouble is brewing elsewhere, and capable witches and wizards are hard to come by in France at the moments, as they are needed trying to hunt down various disruptive elements. I have been assured that language will not be a problem, as English is a standard class throughout the years. Truth be told, I had thought to offer you a position here at Hogwarts, but considering you will most likely be hounded as much if you were to come here as you are now, I think that option should be tabled for now.

I know you may have reservations, but I do believe a change of scenery will do you good. If you have any question, please send an owl with your response.

Best Regards,
Minevra McGonnagal

P.S. Forgive me the lack of titles and honorifics. I feel we know one another far too well to stand on ceremony in our letters, now that you are no longer my student.

P.P.S. Please do consider taking the appointment, strongly. A bit of sun and rest from everything will do you a world of good. Not to mention having a daily routine again.

Harry just sat staring at the letter for a moment, dumbfounded. Him? A teacher? HIM?! That was absurd, wasn't it? He sighed, and a small voice at the back of his head whispered; but why not? You have done it before. He felt tempted despite his reservations. There was a lot to do after all, and he still had to talk with Ginny to find out where they stood. But it would only be for a couple of semesters to begin with, and Ginny was away at Hogwarts until Christmas, and he could always visit then. He was on leave with orders to relax and get in the right mindset. His friends were too busy for him anyway.

Hell, why couldn't he take a few months, get some sun, get away from the press and fans and everything. He grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a fountain pen, and jotted down his reply in a quick and slightly uneven hand before sending it off with the waiting owl. He could do this.

The next few days were busy for Harry. He had received a glowing reply from McGonnagal, wishing him all the best in France, as well as sending him a couple books on the noble art of teaching, in case he needed some help. A few days after, a package from Madame Maxime had arrived, bearing a letter of confirmation to his post at Beauxbattons, and a long personal letter, letting him know her hopes for him and his class, as well as an invitation for dinner the following Friday, so they might get to talk properly and plan a bit before he started. The school year had already begun, but his class was not scheduled to start until the end of October, giving him just over two weeks to get everything in order.

The Ministry proved more than willing to let him have as much time off as he felt he needed. He had sent an owl to Ginny, explaining that he was leaving England for a bit, but saying he wanted to meet her for the holidays. He even promised to get her something posh and French. He spent more time than usual the last weeks, visiting his Godson, Teddy. Andromeda Tonks was always glad to have him over, and he loved playing with the little baby. When he heard the high pitched laugh of the happy child, his mind felt lighter than it had any right to be. When he had talked to Ron and Hermione over lunch, Ron had actually made him laugh. Harry had told them about the teaching position and his reasoning.

When he had added "I mean, how hard can it be to teach a few Frenchies to fight a bit?" Ron had surprised him by actually snorting and saying.

"Yeah, sorry mate. Let's just say that the frogs isn't known for fighting much. Now, if you were teaching run-and-hide class, they would nail it for sure." Harry had burst out laughing, the sensation feeling strange, but once he had started he found it hard to stop. Hermione had smacked Ron on the back of the head, before she too had joined them in roaring with laughter.

He had packed his stuff into a smart looking briefcase that Hermione had given him, to congratulate him on his new temporary job. He wondered how she had taken the time, but the spellwork on it was intricate. It was magically extended and could hold a small army if he wanted it too, but that was not all. She had enchanted it to be near indestructible, and light as a feather to carry. He marveled at it, truly wishing he had had something like it during his school days, instead of lugging his heavy trunk around. He had gotten a kick out of her explaining all her spell-work, including a rather brilliant charm that made the briefcase look like it contained nothing more than pens and papers to anyone who might want to sneak a peek.

And now, he stood in the Ministry's Lobby, saying his goodbyes to his friends while waiting for his portkey. He was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans with a t-shirt he had gotten from Ginny for his birthday, and a patched blazer that reminded him of his muggle teachers, before he had discovered he was a wizard. It had made him chuckle a bit when he found it while picking up a few items from a completely mundane clothing store.

Hermione had smirked at the look, telling him he at least looked the part of a teacher. To complete his ensemble, he had draped a travelling cloak over his shoulders. He looked at the watch Mrs. Weasley had given him for his coming of age, and saw it was almost time. He gave Hermione and Ron a hug and a smile, promising to write and keep them updated on his progress, and stepped into a side alcove where an empty soda can stood on a small table. A harassed looking witch looked him up and down, her eyes widening as she recognized him.

"12:30 to Paris?" She stuttered. When Harry smiled and nodded, she gestured him forward to grab a hold of the can. With a pull as if hooked by the bellybutton, he felt himself pop in and out of reality, landing hard, but managing to keep his feet under him.

"Ah! Monsieur Potter!" a jovial voice called, making him instantly aware he was not alone. A short and impeccably dressed man stood beside a giant of a woman, both beaming as they took in the sight of him. "Welcome to France!".

His welcoming committee consisted of Monsieur Delacour and Madame Maxime, who shook his hand warmly in turns. Harry gave Madame Maxime a small kiss on the back of her hand, having been told by a very sour ministry official that some small modicums of politeness had to be observed when meeting representatives of the French Ministry, even if he was a 'famous rouge'.

Madame Maxime gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, Well! Zo polite! Eet iz good to zee you! 'Ow was 'ze trip?"

"All good. All good. Truly a pleasure to be here, Madame. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You are very welcome! You were ze best candidate after all." She said, sharing a smile with Monsieur Delacour who just rolled his eyes.

"So you had many candidates?" he asked a bit nervously. He was afraid he had taken the job from someone more qualified.

"A few. Mostly arrogant fools who fancy themselves duelists." She dismissed with a wave. "No one wiz your experience."

Monsieur Delacour nodded eagerly. "Oui. Eet iz a shame we cannot zpare an experienced Auror at ze moment, but trouble eez brewing."

"Nothing too serious I hope?" Harry asked.

"Non, non. Nozhing we cannot 'andle at the moment, but eet eez better safe zhan sorry, non? With everything zat 'appened the last year." His smile fell for a moment, before reappearing. "I 'ave a little gift for you! From ze Ministriè de la Magie, Welcome to our fair country!" he handed Harry a basket, containing an assortment of pastries, two bottles of wine, a fine selection of cheese, biscuits, and chocolate.

Harry managed to sputter out a thank you that Monsieur Delacour waved away, shaking his hand once more before making his excuses and leaving for a meeting, with assurances that Harry needed only write if he needed anything. Harry and Madame Maxime watched the short man stride away with an elegant gait, before turning to each other.

"I suppose I will bring the dessert." Harry said, holding up the gift basket. Madame Maxime gave a boisterous laugh.

"Oui, eef you wish, I will non refuse!" she chuckled. "Now, eef you are ready, take a 'old of my arm. I can carry your basket for you." She added, taking the basket. It looked small in her massive hand. "Now. First a tour of ze grounds and school, then I will show you to your quarters to zettle inn a bit, before we dine."

For the second time in an hour, Harry was pulled along magically to a strange new place. When he opened his eyes the sight nearly took his breath away. They were standing under an beautiful wrought iron archway. Stretching out in front of him was a cobble stone road, flanked by neatly trimmed hedges. The road ended in a large circular opening with a large fountain in the middle. The fountain was too far away to make out the details, but it seemed to be a collection of magical beasts rearing and spouting water.

The most fantastic sight was the school itself. It was a massive palace that spread out, surrounded by well kept gardens. The building reminded him of pictures he had seen of Versailes, and was more fit to house a king than students. As they strolled up the path he could see students relaxing in the mild weather, sitting on benches by fountains and flower gardens. A few of the nearby students offered respectful greetings to Madame Maxime, and curious glances at Harry.

Madame Maxime kept telling him about the various plants and hedges, the labyrinths, pools and gardens. There was a greenhouse on the eastern slopes, just out of view, and a Quidditch pitch in the distance behind the school. The entire grounds were surrounded by thick forest, to secure their seclusion from any muggles. He was told that the forest was seeded with wards to keep intruders at bay, something Harry found clever. Hogwarts had its own wards and spells of course, but it also had the advantage of being hidden away smack in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, miles away from anything non magical.

If the grounds themselves were magnificent, it was nothing to the interior. The entry hall was marble floors polished to a shine, with paintings and sculptures lining the walls. A Mable stairway lead to the upper floors. The great hall looked more like a fine dining restaurant than a cafeteria, with large round tables around the room, and a long table at the far end for the teachers. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting cascading lights around the room.

"This is truly amazing." Said Harry, taking in the views. While Hogwarts would always hold a special place in his heart, the grandeur of Bauxbatons was something all to itself. While it in his opinion lacked the charm and mystical feeling of the highlands castle he had spent six glorious years exploring, he could not deny that the French had a sense of style and luxury that he had thought absent from all but the most expensive of private institutions in the muggle world.

He was shown several halls and ball rooms, decorated as to hold a royal party. Trophy rooms and studies. The hallways were decorated with paintings, busts and vases. Beautifully carved and padded wooden benches were sat at intervals along the walls, where students might sit to read or chat during free periods. Absent were the suits of armor that he had been so used to during his own time at school.

"I'm curious, Madame. The school is truly breathtaking, but I was given to understand that Beauxbatons' history goes back almost as far as Hogwarts. Yet the grounds seem far more modern." Harry interjected as he was lead down a hallway into what she had called the West Vestibule. He had been lead up a few flights of stairs, around various large and small hallways, and he was already truly and thoroughly lost, but damned if he was going to admit it.

"Eet iz true, ze school has a long, rich history. Ze original building was a castle, much like 'Ogwarts. Unfortunatly, eet was smaller and could not keep up with ze demands for space with increased number of students, and additional courses. Ze school was damaged during ze revolution, when it was caught between royalists and revolutionaries. Eet was decided to rebuild ze new school after Versailles, and the wards and spells surrounding ze school was tripled to prevent further attacks. You will still find ze old dungeons and catacombs under ze school, and parts of ze walls and towers were incorporated into ze new design." Madame Maxime explained with great enthusiasm. It was clear that she loved her school, and felt great pride in it.

They eventually came to a large classroom with tall windows overlooking a tranquil garden with a stature of a wizard shooting water from his wand. On a slightly raised platform stood a heavy oaken desk in front of a blackboard. There was a large open space between the door and the rows of desks. Large enough for well over a dozen people to stand abreast very comfortably. Along one wall there were several dummies on wheels, with 'wands' in hand, obviously used for practice.

"Zis will be your classroom. Eet has plenty of space to practice, and ze walls and windows are warded. Eet was used to teach dueling before ze international bans were passed. Will eet suit you?"

"It should will do very nicely, Madame." Harry meat it. The room was well suited to teach how to fight.

"Excellent! Now, eef you would follow me, I'll show you to your quarters." She lead him to a door just behind the desk to the right. There was a decently sized office space there, complete with a desk and comfortable looking chair, book shelves and a small parlor. At the far wall was another door, leading to a bedroom, while opposite the desk another door lead to a spiral staircase that he was told lead to the first floor, near the teacher's lounge. She instructed him to set a password, as the entry in the first floor was hidden, to ensure a little privacy. Madame Maxime left him to unpack and get a little familiar with his new quarters. She said she would send someone to fetch him for a private dinner in a few hours, and left through the spiral staircase.

Harry had marveled at his bed, a huge four post monstrosity with a carved headboard. The bed looked incredibly comfortable, and after laying down to test it, his suspicions were confirmed. The mattress was soft, yet firm, and seemed to shape itself to him, and the pillows were to die for, embracing his head. It took a great deal of willpower to not stay in bed for a long nap, but he had things to do.

He unpacked his books from his wondrous briefcase, placing them on the empty shelves. As he placed them, he realized that most of his books were the either schoolbooks, or various gifts from Hermione. He had also picked out quite a few spellbooks and manuals from the Black family library that had looked useful. When he opened the desk drawer to put in a few bottles of ink and some pens, he saw that it was not needed. His desk had been stocked with parchment, inks in various collours, pens, envelopes, sealing wax and even a seal bearing the coat of arms of Beauxbattons.

He took the opportunity to inspect his classroom in detail. The open space was clearly intended for mock duels, and the dummies seemed to be able to cast simple shield and stunning spells when activated. Truly ingenious. He sat down at his desk, overlooking the classroom and started pondering ideas on how to best demonstrate the basics. He was unsure of the skill level of his students, but they would be just a few year younger than him, and he was starting to doubt whether or not he would be able to teach them efficiently. He had not graduated his own studies, after all.

He must have sat there for a while, cause suddenly the door to the classroom opened and a tall witch stepped inside. She seemed to jump a bit at the sight of him, but recovered quickly. With swift strides she walked up to him, as he jumped down from his seat to stand. She flashed him a brilliant smile as she held out her hand to him.

"Monsieur Potter. A pleasure to meet you. I am Céline Leclair, professor of charms." She said in a sweet voice with barely a trace of an accent. She seemed young for a teacher, thou he was one to talk on that aspect. She must still be in her twenties, with a tall and curvy body. She had blonde hair that flowed around her shoulders. Her face looked almost feline, with soft full lips, and warm baby blue eyes. She wore an emerald green robe with decorative stitching and embroidery in black. She wore a matching hat, in much the same style as the students, but with a decorative feather. He took her offered hand and shook it, offering a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Professor Leclair. Harry Potter, newly appointed teacher for Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry said, feeling silly and blushing slightly. Professor Lecair just smiled as they shook hands. He could not help noting how soft her skin was.

"Madame Maxime asked me to come fetch you. Also, I come bearing gifts." She said as she offered him a folded parchment. It seemed familiar to him, and he stared at the lines and drawings for a moment before the pieces fell into place.

"A map!" He said grinning. Professor Lecair seemed a bit baffled, but smiled.

"Oui. It shows the school, floor by floor, and the location of the holder. If you need to find a room, you tap it with the wand and say 'Show Me' and name the location, like so." She said, pulling out her wand and tapping it to the map "Show me the Headmistress' Office"

The map gave a faint glow, and he could see a spacious room at the upper floors of the central tower light up, while the rest dimmed. His position was marked with a set of footprints that made him chuckle. The spellwork was similar to the Marauder's Map, but a little less intricate. Rather than showing everyone within the school, it only showed his position. This was a simple tool, from one professor to another, to help the newcomer find his way around the massive school.

"It's brilliant!" He said, admiring the map. "Thank you! This will be a huge help!"

"Think nothing of it, Harry. I know how lost I was here my first weeks when I got here. I have half a mind to have these made for all new students. But it would take too much time, and having to stumble your way through the grounds is like an initiation ritual, non?" she said with a wink.

She accompanied him to the headmistress' office, letting him use the map to guide them as they chatted politely. She had only taken her post at the school three years ago, after the retirement of her predecessor. She had worked for the French ministry for a couple of years after graduating, but found the bureaucracy ill suited her. She had wanted more time experimenting with her spells, and when a position opened up at Bauxbatons, she had jumped at the opportunity.

He found her to be good company. She had a relaxed and easy going nature, and Harry liked the light tone of their conversation. All too soon they stood in front of Madame Maxime's door. With a friendly wave and a smile, Céline said her goodbyes and took off down a corridor, disappearing out of view. Harry knocked on the door and was invited in by the Headmistress' boisterous voice. Her office was splendid. Neat and orderly, with bookshelves filled to the brim. A large ornate desk made of carved mahogany dominated the room. Behind it was an enormous chair, almost looking like a throne. The room also sported a collection of comfortable armchairs and sofas around a low table. The entire office looked warm and inviting, and it's neat order stood in a slight contrast to Dumbledoor's office at Hogwarts, which had at times been cluttered. Three doors led to other rooms, and what must make up the Headmistress' personal quarters.

"Ah! 'Arry! I trust you found your way?" Madame Maxime said, all smiles as she rose from her throne to usher him into one of the doors.

"Indeed, Headmistress. Professor Lecair gave me a map that was most helpful, as was her accompanying me to make sure I didn't get lost."

"Ah. Yes. She is quite helpful. I want to put togezer a lunch wiz ze teachers tomorrow to introduce you, before ze classes start on Monday. Now. Shall we?" She took a seat at a beautiful dining table, surrounded by a dozen chairs in a well lit dining room. Perfect for entertaining guests and have a private meal.

The dinner itself was truly amazing. Harry had not realized just how famished he was after a long day of travelling and settling in to his new home for the foreseeable future. The meal started out with a chicken soup that was to die for, and had Harry hoping for seconds, but the main course was simply fantastic. A dish he had no idea how to pronounce that included veal and caramelized vegetables. The meat was so soft and tender that he barely needed a knife to cut it, as at almost parted just from the pressure of his fork.

The dinner conversation was pleasant, if not enthusiastic. Madame Maxime was a fountain of wisdom, and gave Harry good input on teaching. When it was time for dessert, Harry placed the gift basket he had received on the table. The pastries were divine, the cheese magnificent, and the wine rich and full. As they ate and drank, the conversation became somewhat more informal. After his second glass, he felt the nagging questions in the back of his mind rise again.

"Madame Maxime, if I may ask. I know you said finding a teacher on such short notice had been hard, but I still feel like there must have been better candidates than an overrated school-drop out. Don't get me wrong, I am flattered, but still…"

Madame Maxime looked at him intently for a moment, taking a deep sip from her glass, before answering.

"You may be right. I should 'ave explained. There are plenty of people who are qualified, that is true. Ze problem is zis. The Ministry is trying to impose themselves into the administration of ze school. Far more zan zey 'ave a right to. Giving them ze chanze to place an agent on my staff to influence me is something I simply could not allow. I asked Headmistress McGonnagal to find me a suitable candidate to circumvent the Ministry, under ze guise of building relations with the Brits, and not diluting ze ranks of ze Aurors."

"So, I'm a what? A middle finger to the ministry?" Madame Maxime barked a laugh at the impertinent question. Harry had not meant to say it, but his mouth had ran away from him once again.

"Of a sort, oui." She chuckled. "But also because you are a very competent wizard. Do not doubt zat. I was impressed wiz you during ze Triwizard Tournament. You 'ave courage, resourcefulness and skill. From what I 'ave heard, you trained your fellow students when your own ministry interfered wiz your school. And, let us be 'onest; You defeated ze worst wizard of ze century. 'Aving you teach 'ere will bring prestige to ze School."

Somewhat mollified, and a little miffed, he refilled his glass and took another sip. "So, I take it the Ministry will try to cozy up to me?"

"Oui. Why do you think zey gave you ze basket?" She smirked.

"Well, if they offer free booze and food, let'em try." Said Harry, taking a vicious bite from a pastry.