Ronald Weasley, one of the high ranking Aurors of the British Ministry for Magic, sat rather oddly in a waiting room. He was sitting ramrod on the wooden chair, staring blankly at the portrait of the current Headmistress of Beauxbaton Academie. His trench coat hung on the wooden coat stand by the secretary's desk, who was eyeing him for the better part of the hour. His flame-coloured hair was a mess, somewhat augmented because of its shortness.
His briefcase was on his lap, as if he was afraid of parting with it, even though he was just sitting there and doing nothing. His face had lost some of its freckles, but most of it had darkened over the years. He had a scar on his left cheek, a reminder of what had transpired many years ago. Now, here he was about to commit something for the very reason of obedience to society.
He had come for an appointment with the headmistress, Sophia Etoilé, to discuss something of great importance to the Magical Community, and to him personally. The British Minister for Magic, Percival Weasley, had ordered him to bring back one of the greatest wizards who ever lived. A tinkling of a bell sounded.
"You may come in now, Monsieur Weasley," the secretary announced, gesturing towards the golden door.
He stood up, got his briefcase in his right hand, and entered the room.
Harry Potter, former Auror for the British Ministry for Magic, former Quidditch player, once Hero-of-the-Second-Wizarding-War, and now professor of Defense against the Dark Arts in Beauxbaton, sat alone in his drab dormitory room. Since quitting drinking, he took up to playing with his Golden Snitch almost all the time to take his mind off the firewhiskey. Whenever he would be bored with his snitch, he would grab his broomstick, and fly over the school. And that was what he went out to do.
Harry jumped on to his broomstick and flew out of his window, a small smile on his lips. He was in his element, flying around really fast was what he really wanted to do. Ever since his first flying lessons, he was very skilled in flying on a broomstick, and he was more relaxed whenever he was among the clouds. He saw into every room on campus, even the dorm rooms of the students. He knows he was not allowed to, but he cannot help himself.
As he soared around the school, he saw someone walk in to the headmistress's office. It was a familiar face, and he immediately went back to his room. He needed to get away, again.
"Excusez moi?"
Ronald Weasley sighed as he set down his tea cup and saucer on the coffee table. "Headmistress," he began, "it is imperative that we escort Mister Harry James Potter back to the United Kingdom at the most immediate moment."
"And why is that, Monsieur Weasley?" the Headmistress asked, her arms crossed on her chest and her beautiful Veela face is taking on a very serious look.
Ron sighed again, "It is in the interest of the British Minister for Magic, and of your government, that Mr. Potter be returned to the United Kingdom."
"You did not answer my question, monsieur."
"Ah. The reason for this is not for you to know, madame."
"Excusez moi, monsieur, but I am the Headmistress of Beauxbaton Academie, and is thus accountable to my professors here. I must know the reason, or else I will not allow Monsieur Potter to leave my school."
Ron scratched his head, his red-hair was growing longer. He stared at the Headmistress' desk and saw the arranged stacks of paper on one side and the inkwell, quills, and fresh parchment stood on the other side. It was so organized and clean, very much unlike his desk. He misses his desk.
"Madame," Ron said, "please see reason. I implore you to release Mr. Potter into our custody, because, as I have shown to you earlier, it has already been approved by your government. Please, let us not contend it further."
Sophia Etoilé watched her guest. She had heard about this man seating in her office, that he was not someone to have a battle of wits with. Ron Weasley, has a reputation of besting some of the most brilliant witches and wizards in terms of tactical knowledge and strategy. He has won international awards in Wizard's Chess Tournaments, and yet he still exude a boyish charm.
"Still," she said, as she quietly watched her guest, "he is still my professor. And the government has no jurisdiction on my school."
He knew he needed to complete this task, and he also knew that he had to show the one thing he does not want to use. "Madam," he calmly began, as he extracted a rolled-up parchment from his briefcase. "You must release Mr. Harry James Potter to the British Aurors immediately, because he is a wanted fugitive."
"Pardonne? He is a what?"
"A criminal on the run from the Ministry for Magic."
The look on the Headmistress face was incredulous, and he knew why. Because of his brother's manipulations, the news of Harry Potter being a fugitive was hushed from the world, and no one apart from the Ministry could have known about it. He sighed, he knew he would regret ever using it.