Pierre skipped gracefully down the mountain, and Harry followed him, puffing hard. Costa and Res were already specks in the distance, though they had the trunks to carry and the dragons to lead, which could only have hindered their bronze muscles. Pierre reached the bottom with no trouble and Harry wished that he did more sport – apart from Quidditch Hogwarts didn't do much. Then Pierre was weaving through the paddocks, ducking under fences and calling out greetings to the people working, and Harry hurried after him trying to keep up. Pierre was obviously popular, for the workers all stopped and waved or called out in French. A few asked after him, and Pierre would reply in French. Harry could feel their gaze long after they had left the paddock. It was hard to follow Pierre, because Harry was so busy looking at everything that was going on around him; majestic griffins were being scrubbed with a potion that seemed to shimmer in the light; Blast-ended skrewts, which Harry had thought he was free of after last year's disastrous Care of Magical Creatures lessons, were being led around a field in a perverse funeral march. They passed barns full of Bowtruckles and pixies. Harry recognised the electric blue ones as Cornish pixies, but there were some pea green, smaller ones he didn't know.

It was incredible, and unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. He was so busy glancing this way and that he nearly walked into Pierre, who had stopped to talk to a girl, maybe a year older than them, who was feeding a baby unicorn. They were talking in French, so Harry didn't try and follow the conversation. Instead he watched the unicorn suck on the bottle. He had seen baby unicorns before, but never this close. Its hide shone gold and its eyes were scrunched shut as it tugged on the bottle. Pierre finally turned back to Harry.

"This is Via." He said, gesturing to the very pretty girl.

"Via this is Harry." Via smiled at Harry.

"Bonjour and welcome to Highcross."

Harry smiled, trying not to feel uncomfortable, for she was staring at his forehead. Self-consciously he pushed his fringe back, which was sticky with sweat.

Pierre waved goodbye to Via and lead Harry on, towards the house. The door was open and the smell of cooking onions filled the air. Inside was blissfully cool and shady. It took Harry a moment to adjust to the dark room, but when he did he was amazed. There was stuff everywhere. Piles of newspapers and magazines were cascading off the table and there were plates and cutlery balanced haphazardly on the stools that were positioned seemingly randomly throughout the room. The walls were painted bright clashing colours and small windows dotted the walls, letting the bright light shine through in interesting patterns. It reminded Harry somewhat of the Burrow.

"Mama! Papa!" Pierre shouted. There was a crash from upstairs and then the sound of loud footsteps on the stairs before a small door Harry hadn't noticed burst open. A thin woman who looked like Pierre, her chestnut hair in a messy bun and a paint-splattered apron over a simple blouse and skirt, stood in the doorway.

"Pierre!" She hugged him. "Harry!" She hugged Harry too. "Welcome! Pardon for the- the..." she trailed off to find the right word. "Craziness!" Her accent was thick, and Harry struggled to understand.

There was some more noise from upstairs, and a young woman came down, nearly tripping on the stairs. She had blonde wavy hair and blue eyes, and pale creamy skin, but yet Harry felt like he recognised her. Like he'd seen her before. He looked at her closer as she crossed the room.

"Wotcha Harry!"

"Tonks?" He asked tentatively.

Suddenly the woman in front of him morphed, her features twisting to make the face Harry recognised, with the purple spiky hair that was Tonks' trademark.

"What are you doing here?" He said, trying not to sound rude.

She screwed up her face and morphed back to the blonde lady. "Looking out for you. Dumbledore sent me."

"Dumbledore did?" Harry said. He could hear the stroppiness in his voice, but he didn't apologise.

"You think he'd just let you wander the French countryside alone? Now that Voldemort's back?"

Although Pierre and his Mother were not really following the conversation, they both winced when they heard his name.

Harry tried not to shout. This was his trip. He had finally been allowed to go and now he was being babysat. What did they think he was going to do? He just wanted to be a normal teenager.

"Don't worry Harry." Tonks said, sensing his annoyance. Although she was clumsy and loud, she was very good at picking up emotions from body language. "I'll keep out of the way. It was just a precaution."

Harry nodded and tried to smile. It wasn't Tonks fault – he mustn't blame her.

"Just remember to call me Beth. I'm here to study dragons."

Harry nodded again, and sensing a break in the conversation, Pierre grabbed his arm.

"Let me show you around!"