A/N: Ok, friends, I'm back, again after an irressponsibly long time, but these things can't be helped. No there are vacations soon, perhaps I'll find more leisure for writing then. Yes, I can imagine why some of you liked the last chapter least, it's true that nothing at all happens, but I need to lay some foundations, especially when I'm taking different turns than in the book. Thus, also this chapter is not exactly full of action, but it has old Umbridge in it, and what I believe is a nice cliffhanger, too.

Chapter 10 Making Arrangements

A couple of days went by in which Fleur slowly recovered from the Dementor's attack. She felt exhausted and spent much time sleeping or dozing in a deckchair in the shade of the ancient trees in the chateau's gardens, watched over and taken care of by Vivienne and Gabrielle. Her mother was mostly away on business of her own in Paris; she would never specify what sort of business it was, and Fleur, for one, was feeling too tired to ask. She felt contented enough knowing she would be going to Hogwarts and meet Harry again, - not just meet him, as she kept reminding the part of her that was still frightened everything might turn out to be some misunderstanding, but be together with him for a whole school year!

As for her father, she was so used to him being abroad somewhere in Asia of Africa, exploring ancient tombs and other ruins looking for magical artefacts, she did not spend more than a fleeting thought on him. He had never been too interested in his two daughters, anyway, and none of the girls had ever missed him. He was nice enough on the rare occasions that he visited his family, but in a distant and far-off sort of way that had never allowed for emotional ties to form between him and his offspring.

"At least Maman is interested in us being good at school and becoming successful members of the haute vole," Fleur used to muse when they came to think about Gerard Delacour at all, "I believe it shows SOME affection for us, after all…"

Of course, this had been in the time of the 'old mother', while now Isabeau was still behaving like the 'new mother' she had turned into at Fleur's arrival from school.

So she had spent several days in blissful and dreamy idleness, when, one afternoon, while she was having her afternoon coffee with her sister and grandmother, Iphigenie and Margaux Apparated onto the lawn behind the chateau.

"How wonderful to see you again!" Fleur shouted, jumping up to embrace her friends.

"Yes, it's lovely! How are you? Have you recovered yet?" Margaux inquired. And Iphigenie added, "So sorry we haven't come to see you earlier, but we were afraid you were not in the mood…"

"After all, we should have noticed something was going on…"

"But we…"

Fleur stopped Iphigenie, laughing.

"Forget it; I'm perfectly fine again as you can see, and I'm happy to have you here again. And don't blame yourselves, there was really nothing you could have done. Sit down and have some coffee and try the delicious cake the house elves have prepared."

The two girls looked at each other uneasily, and Fleur, ever observant, noticed

"What's the matter? Is there anything wrong?"

"Erm… you're not going to like this, I'm afraid…" Margaux began.

"And we will of course come and see you whenever we can… But it's the greatest opportunity we could ever dream of…"

"What IS IT?"

"We're going to Hogsmeade in September…"

"WHAT?"

"And so we'll not be able to see you as often as we'd like to," Iphigenie went on.

"But we promise…"

But Fleur stopped their babbling hugging them enthusiastically. The two girls were speechless.

"You're not mad?"

Laughing harder than ever, Fleur panted, "But – I'm going to HOGWARTS!"

"You're what?"

"Yes, cherie, Hogwarts! I'll spend the entire school year there!"

And she told her friends what her mother had decided.

"Just imagine," she finished breathlessly after her eager account. "I might even be sorted into the same house like him!"

"But then, you might as well end up in Slytherin," Iphigenie remarked dryly, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I bet I won't! But you're right, I probably shouldn't get my hopes up too high. I'm sometimes not sure I'm not dreaming, anyway. But I'm sorry, I quite forgot – what are YOU going to do over there?"

Now it was the girls' turn to tell about their new job in the fashion business.

"It's a great opportunity," Margaux stated. "I'd never have expected to get into international haute couture so quickly. If we can manage this successfully, it may be the starting point of an amazing career."

"You'll manage perfectly," Fleur assured her. "Not that it's very hard to show those guys what fashion really means…"

At which Margaux grinned and threw a napkin at her.

"You are aware, Madame, that this is a highly unusual procedure," Dumbledore said pensively to his visitor. "May I inquire why you are considering such an extraordinary measure?"

"My daughter was attacked by a Dementor!" Isabeau said with a rather dramatic air, pausing to heighten the effect of this certainly uncommon statement. When Dumbledore just raised a polite eyebrow but refrained from any comment, she went on.

"Attacked by a Dementor, and in the middle of muggle Paris, at that! I need hardly stress, headmaster, what that means…"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, but still did not say anything.

"If such a thing happens, it means she is not safe, even in the muggle world, then much less so in the magical one. And I know for a fact that Beauxbatons does not put great store by security at all. And I also know that Hogwarts is said to be the safest place in the magical world altogether. So I thought…"

"A Dementor, you say?" Dumbledore said suddenly, as if he had only just now realised what that implied. "There is no doubt about that, I presume?"

"Of course not!" There was a trace of anger in the elegant woman's voice.

"Perhaps an accident, or a mistake?"

"No! I am perfectly sure the foul creature was going exactly for her and nobody else. And small wonder, to be sure, after what happened at the final task of the Triwizard Tournament…"

"Ah!" For the first time in the conversation, Dumbledore leaned forward with signs of interest. "So you actually believe what the papers term irresponsible rumour-mongering, or fantasies of an attention-seeking, mentally unstable adolescent, and, sometimes also first signs of incipient senile dementia?" His eyes twinkled behind the half-moon glasses.

For a moment Isabeau Delacour seemed put off, but she caught herself instantly.

"It doesn't matter; I daresay some of the ideas expressed by that boy WERE perhaps a result of his overstrained emotions, or whatever. But it's obvious that SOMETHING did happen, there was a death, after all, and it stands to reason that my daughter, whether she intended to or not, was involved in those events. So I would be an irresponsible fool not to come to this conclusion, you will agree."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded his assent. "So what you propose is to send your daughter to Hogwarts – for how long?"

"I thought this was obvious – for the entire school year, of course. I'm not going to have her miss anything in her education. It's her last school year, and she'll be taking her finals here in Hogwarts, then. It will perhaps even be good for her magical education, too; after all, Hogwarts is considered to be the best magical school in all of Europe…"

Dumbledore made a deprecating gesture as she went on.

"I would appreciate it very much, headmaster, if you could grant my request. A mother' s foremost concern must always be her daughter's well-being."

"Of course," Dumbledore said again. "I will have to inform the school board of this, naturally, but I think I can assure you right now this is just a formality. She has been here before and will know her ways already, and as far as I am aware, her English is also good enough to allow her to follow lessons without any problems. Now and then, there may be some deficits, due to differences in the French and British curricula, but if she is quick enough on the uptake, this should be no problem. If needs be, I know exactly the person to tutor her…"

If Isabeau was not happy about the idea of somebody tutoring her daughter, she did at any rate not show it.

"Thank you, headmaster," she said with her most charming smile. "So I will see to it that she arrives here on September first. What time would you require her to be here?"

"The feast begins at eight, but as she will have to be sorted into one of the houses, and this will have to happen together with the first year students, I would advise that she arrive no later than six o'clock."

"She will be there," Isabeau said shortly, rising from her chair. "Well, thank you once again for your cooperation, I feel a lot better now."

She extended her hand, which Dumbledore, who had also risen politely and stepped out from behind his desk, put to his lips shortly.

"I am sure, Madame, your daughter will find her time here most enjoyable," he said, his eyes twinkling more than ever. "And I look forward to having her with us. Au revoir, Madame, it was a pleasure talking to you. And please give my regards to your esteemed mother."

"Well, Fawkes," Dumbledore said to the phoenix, who, during the interview had been sitting on his perch quietly, eying the visitor with his unblinking beady eyes, "this is most interesting indeed."

He looked at the silver sneakoscope on the shelf behind the desk that was spinning madly on its axis, and smiled to himself.

"Stop smirking, Phineas," he said to one of the portraits on the wall. "I am quite aware that she is an attractive woman, but you, after all, are just a memory on canvas…"

The Minister of Magic was sitting in his chair behind his desk, which was littered with important looking papers. Lesser minds might have had doubts about the importance of such papers as Suggestions on new standards regulating import tariffs on flying carpets, but the Minister's cool, business-like mind (as he liked to see himself) knew otherwise. And anyway, they came in rather handy to demonstrate to visitors what a busy and therefore highly important person the occupant of this office was.

"You were asking to see me, Cornelius?" Dumbledore inquired politely on entering the room.

"Yes, yes," the Minister's voice took on the tone of a mixture of haughtiness and self-consciousness that it always acquired when he was talking to the headmaster. The truth was, of course, that he felt abysmally inferior to Dumbledore, and therefore loathed him deeply. But as he was also frightened of the powerful wizard, he was doing his best to hide those feelings. Not very successfully, as Dumbledore could have told him, but he did not ask.

To hide his uneasiness, he started busily shuffling a stack of papers (Draft for new limits of pewter alloys in industrial cauldrons) on his desk, pretending to be engrossed in important tasks.

Patiently, Dumbledore conjured a comfortable red chintz chair, and sat down in front of the Minister's desk, calmly surveying the room. Of course he had been in Fudge's office countless times before, but the many photographs on the walls, all of them showing the fat short man in his ridiculous attire, complete with green bowler hat, at important occasions (initiating the new floo network control system, or unveiling the new statue of Oberon the Oblivious in Diagon Alley) never failed to amuse him. Basically, what followed was a test of nerves, and the outcome, of course, was clear from the beginning.

Some five or six minutes had passed, when Fudge finally had found a satisfying place for his stack of papers. He put them down and stroked them lovingly, then turned his attention to the headmaster.

"Yes," he repeated, rather absurdly. "Well, Albus, the thing is, erm… the new school year is about to start and you still don't seem to have found that new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher that Hogwarts needs."

"I'm fully aware of the fact, Minister," Dumbledore admitted in quite a cheerful voice. "But if I may remind you, there is still time. The deadline after which the Ministry will have the right to suggest its own candidate is on the fifteenth."

"Today is already the tenth," Fudge growled impatiently. "Why do you expect to find someone if you haven't been able to do so in all the past weeks?"

"Well, let's just say that an idea came to me the other day…" Dumbledore said vaguely. "I'll let you know if it turns out to be successful. But – do you mean YOU have found someone? It's not exactly easy, you know, people say the job is cursed, which does not really seem to encourage applicants."

"Yes, I have indeed found a person willing to take that blasted job." Fudge straightened in his chair importantly."

"My congratulations, Cornelius." Dumbledore's voice betrayed nothing but mild surprise. "May I inquire as to that brave person's identity?"

This seeming compliance had a mitigating effect on the Minister.

"But of course, Albus," he almost crowed in satisfaction. "Actually this is exactly what I called you for."

He rang a small silver bell on his desk, and pretty young witch appeared through a side door.

"Yes, Minster?"

"Ah, Cheryl. Will you tell Madam Umbridge to come in, please?"

"Yes, Minister."

With a charming smile, - perhaps a bit too charming for a secretary, - the young witch left, leaving the door ajar, through which presently a woman entered, at whose sight Dumbledore groaned inwardly.

Short and rather heavily built, and in her fifties or so, she was quite incongruously dressed in pink robes, with a childish pink bow in her short curly her. Her flat and flabby face with the protruding eyes had a toadlike quality about it.

Without showing any of his emotion, Dumbledore rose to his feet politely an extended his hand.

"So it is you, Dolores, who would be willing to undertake the strenuous task? Let me congratulate on your courage."

"Thank you ever so much, headmaster," she replied in a high simpering voice and with a smile that did not reach her cold eyes. "I just endeavour to please the dear Minister here. It will be nice, though, to be back at dear old Hogwarts again. When do you want me to come? I expect it would be a good idea to be there early, to make preparations, arrangements, you know…"

"I would be honoured, Dolores, and I appreciate your willingness to leave your fascinating job here at the Ministry to help Hogwarts out in a difficult situation." Dumbledore said in his most polite voice. "However, as I was just pointing out to the Minister-" (he just narrowly avoided to say 'dear Minister') "the deadline for the Ministry to appoint a DADA teacher of their own has not been reached yet. There are still a few days left, and, as I was also saying, a little idea of my own has just come up that I want to look into first. I am sure you will understand this, Dolores. However, should my little idea come to nothing I will be only too happy to inform you immediately."

"As you wish, headmaster," Dolores Umbridge said, almost gnashing her teeth, and altogether making a bad job of pretending not to care.

"Would you care to tell me, Dumbledore," the equally disgruntled Minister interjected, "what that mysterious idea of yours is all about? You don't actually have a concrete person in mind, have you? Or, moreover, who would be willing to take that blasted job; especially for the pay you can offer," he finished with a smirk.

"Yes, the Ministry funding has been a tiny bit less than generous recently," Dumbledore agreed with a serene smile. "However, to answer your question, yes I have indeed a person in mind. A person, I may add, who will be more than competent in this function, with a rather comprehensive practical experience in various fields. I must admit I haven't yet asked whether that person would be interesting in taking the post, but I have some reason to believe there will be no problem… At any rate, should I be mistaken, I'll gladly accept your offer."

There was not much for Fudge but to say, rather stiffly:

"Well, I can only wish you luck, Dumbledore. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have important work to do."

And he took up the stack of papers again and started leafing through it, pretending to be engrossed in pewter alloys.

"Thank you, Minister," Dumbledore replied in his most pleasant voice. He rose and vanished his chair with a careless wave of his wand; then he went over to the door and opened it.

"After you, Dolores," he said bowing to her slightly. "I am sure your talents could be put to much better use with the Ministry, so let's hope you won't have to sacrifice it for a dull teaching job. Young people can be quite tiring these days. Have a very nice day!"

Umbridge, glaring at him with ill-concealed fury, swept past him without a word.

"A good day to you, too, Minister," Dumbledore said cheerfully to Fudge, who did not glance up from his papers. "You should not work so hard, it isn't really good for your health… and now I really have to hurry. There's a rather urgent letter I have to write…"

A/N: So, what are your bets? Who's going to be the new DADA teacher? Keep your fingers crossed for me that I can update he next piece sooner!AND DON'T FORGET TO KEEP THOSE REVIEWS COMING!