First, a big shout out to the reviewers! Their encouragements are the reason why this chapter is out so fast, 11 eleven days after the chapter before this one!
Thanks to: H311r8sr, Lord Romulus Malfoy V, urs-v, boss 12, Le Diablo Blanc2, Reader-anonymous-writer, Cat Beats, Lone wolf aka Black Hawk Omega, mazariamonti, hellhasarrived, JPElles, DarkChampion and Radiant Celestial Aura.
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Chapter Twenty-one
As time passed, Harry came to appreciate Beauxbâtons more and more. Of course, he was a young boy and often didn't bother doing his homework, but he still made efforts. He listened in class, studied the booklet on good manners and tried making friends. Unfortunately, he found that he was having trouble with that last part.
He'd spent his whole life living in his cousin's shadow. During his years living in England, he hadn't ever made friends because Dudley would've scared them all away if he tried, and he hadn't made many efforts in his academics, because the Dursleys would have reacted negatively if they saw their son being outshined. Harry had consoled himself with the thought that he was intelligent and studious, and it was the Dursleys that prevented those qualities from being seen. Harry had also privately thought that if not for the Dursleys, he would've been able to make many friends.
However, now that he was on his own, he was dismayed to discover that he had overestimated himself; a lifetime without friends had stunted the growth of his social skills, making it hard for him to hold an ordinary conversation with his peers, let alone make friends. In discussions, he was too hesitant, tried too hard, and didn't deliver the punch-line of a joke correctly, leaving people staring at him expectantly, thinking there was more to be said. Additionally, spending his life being second-best to Dudley, never finishing his homework, returning assignments late, revising for a test only the day before... It had made him used to living like that. He'd become used to procrastinating, doing the bare minimum and just not working as hard as he could have.
What had started as a way to not attract his family's ire by having good grades and friends, had become a habit, a way of living he couldn't get out of. He'd lived his life in intellectual and social laziness, and he could now see the depth of the problem, the realization sinking uncomfortably in his gut. All this time he'd blamed his lack of friends on Dudley, but now with roommates that weren't more than acquaintances and classmates he only ever made awkward small talk with, Harry wondered if the Dursleys hadn't been right and he'd been fooling himself all along, thinking he wasn't an abnormal freak with no friends.
Unsurprisingly, despite being allowed to visit his family over the weekend, Harry stayed at Beauxbâtons. He wanted to visit the Dursleys, if only to prove he was not an ungrateful child who didn't care about the fact that his family and raised and fed him despite not being his parents. He wanted to show them that he wasn't what they'd always accused him of being, that he was better. Still, he didn't visit them.
Without them, he was content. He didn't wish to return to Surrey, even if only for a weekend. He'd be too afraid of not being allowed back to France. As weeks passed, his guilt over not visiting his family grew, as did the fear about the fact that he might face retribution for not visiting promptly and instead ignoring his family.
Harry's guilt grew, as did his desire to ignore the problem until it went away.
Anyway, most adults (teachers and the like) seemed to have no problem with him not particularly wanting to visit his family. Indeed, they didn't really nag at him for being a bad person and not seeing his family. Harry guessed it might be because they wished to avoid the hassle of organising a visit. Harry didn't much care about their reasons, so he didn't dwell upon the matter any further than that.
Tonight, Harry was enjoying a specific celebration. It was Samhain, or as others knew it, All Hallow's Eve.
There had been offerings of food left out for the Aos Sí, which were little fairy creatures that had come to the palace for their tribute. It was quite impressive for Harry, who hadn't seen many magical creatures with his own eyes, yet. For the celebrations, the students and teachers had taken to guising and mumming. Harry had just put on a mask with decorative green leaves that moved on their own, something relatively simple compared to the detailed works of art others were wearing.
Earlier, Harry had assisted to a large bonfire, and right now he was at the evening feast in the dining hall, enjoying a pumpkin soup with bits of Tomme de Savoie cheese in it that were slowly melting. He was sitting next to Alexandre, who was clad in silver furs, with a glittering mask on his upper face and large, curved horns on his head. Apart from Alexandre, there were two Followers sitting at Harry's table.
'Followers' was the name Harry had come up with to describe the students that wanted to talk to him only because he'd survived a curse considered impossible to survive, and who tended to follow him around because of that. Followers were usually intellectually-driven students, fifteen years of age or older, who were fascinated by Harry and wished to study his case.
They'd started annoying Harry after the first week of school had passed, pestering him with questions he could barely understand. After a while, it had died down and some Followers had become mildly tolerable, but most of them were still an annoyance Harry would've rather not had to deal with.
The ones sitting at Harry's table, Cédric and Arnaud, were nice enough and made the effort of including Harry in their conversations, though they seemed strangely uneasy around Alexandre, eyeing him as if he'd start doing something crazy any second.
"The Cataclysmic Three," Arnaud was saying, his Scottish accent barely audible, "are closely linked to Samhain. Human sacrifices were made in trios, using the number three's magical strength to enhance the released magic. I don't believe there is enough proof to verify the veracity of Don Meyer's findings. I cannot believe people are taking it as seriously as they are. It must be because Don Meyer is a close friend of Castellane."
Harry hid his face in his hands, irritated. While he was grateful that the teen was making the effort of speaking in English for Harry to understand, it was still very annoying if the conversation was downright impossible to understand due to the over-complicated subject.
Cédric was nodding, listening intently to Arnaud's analysis on Samhain, magic and the number three. Alexandre looked bored, and was playing with his food mechanically, his gaze unfocused. As for Harry, he was attempting to find a way to turn the conversation to something more interesting, or manage to leave the dining room without appearing too impolite.
Perhaps he could say he'd forgotten to close a window in his room, and that he had to head over there to close it so he wouldn't catch a cold during the night? No, he thought. Alexandre, as his roommate, might contradict his statement by saying he remembered it had been closed, or he might insist on doing it for Harry to be polite.
Just as his desperation to leave peaked, a girl came over to his table. Arnaud stopped talking, waiting to see what she wanted. After a few seconds of reflexion, Harry recognized her as Nina, Quentin's older sister.
"As-tu besoin de quelque chose?"
Harry's French lessons came in handy, allowing him to translate what Arnaud had just asked. 'Tu' meant 'you', and 'as' (pronounced ah) was from the verb 'avoir', 'to have'. 'Besoin' was the noun 'need', and 'quelque chose' meant 'something'. 'De' was a particle that could have different meanings, but often meant 'for' or 'of'.
So the sentence meant something like 'Have you need of some thing?'. Translated, it seemed a rather old-fashioned way of speaking, but in French it was perfectly normal and such wording was in current use.
"Excuse me," began Nina in English. "Could I talk to Harry privately, please?"
Harry rose hurriedly from his seat, just as Cédric said "Of course!" and Alexandre offered a nod in ascent.
Nina and Harry walked until they were out of earshot of any nearby tables.
"I'm sorry to bother you," said Nina. "I wasn't sure if it was something you wanted to be told in front of your friends."
Frowning, Harry tried to understand what that meant. Was she about to say something that would be embarrassing for him? That was the only thing he could think of that she might say.
"A teacher asked me to tell you that they need to speak with you right now," explained Nina, apologetic. "They're waiting in the East courtyard."
What kind of teacher would interrupt a student's meal, instead of simply asking to talk after supper? Harry hadn't finished eating yet, and the dining hall would be closed by the time he'd be finished talking with the teacher, even if their talk was only ten minutes long.
"Who's the teacher?" asked Harry, if only to know who to resent. He wished to know which teacher was fine with making him starve.
Nina's face twisted, showing confusion.
"I'm... not sure? I didn't recognize him. It's not one of the teachers I've had."
It wasn't surprising that she didn't know him. Each school subject had several teachers for it, meaning that someone could finish their education at Beauxbâtons without having met all the teachers. Harry would've been surprised if she'd known the teacher from having had him for her class, in her first year or current year.
"Did he say his name?" Harry mostly wished to know who the teacher was so he could guess what the conversation would entail, and prepare himself accordingly.
"Non, désolée," answered Nina, appearing contrite. "I think he said his name, but I forgot it." She seemed so sorry that her memory hadn't bothered retaining the name that Harry didn't dwell on it further, unwilling to pester her with questions like his Followers did.
He thanked her, and headed back to his table.
"May I ask what she wanted?" asked Alexandre, once Harry was close enough. His eyes were narrowed, looking at Nina's retreating figure.
"I have to go see a teacher," said Harry, picking up an apple from one of the trays on the table. "I'll see you in our room."
He waved at them and left, walking towards the exit and entrance of the dining hall; a rather large set of doors that were constantly open to allow the flow of students to pass through. On the way, he ran into Philippe.
Philippe was one of the few people Harry tentatively allowed himself to think of as a friend. They had not spoken much at school, unfortunately. It was not due to anything bad happening between them, like a fight or an argument. They just had no classes or friends in common, so the most interaction they'd had since the beginning of the school year had been a few nods, perhaps a quick greeting or two. This was the first time Harry could speak properly to the boy without one of them being in a hurry.
"Hi," said Harry. "Where're you going?"
Perhaps they were headed in the same direction? It had been a while since Harry had really been able to talk to Philippe. The last time had probably been during the summer, when they'd seen each other at Camille Hübsch's house. With some luck, they'd be able to walk a bit together and talk.
"I dunno," answered Philippe. "What 'bout you?"
Harry briefly explained that his presence was expected in the East courtyard for a talk with a teacher, and that he was worried it might be for a punishment. He hadn't done anything good enough to warrant a talk with a teacher for something positive, so it could only be a punishment.
"You won't be punished," declared Philippe, certain. "You would've been sent to your teacher's office if they wanted to punish you."
Harry wasn't quite so sure. He was still worried and it must've shown, because Philippe sighed, looking like he thought Harry's fears had no reason to exist and comforting Harry was the most exhausting chore he'd ever had to do.
"If you want, I can come with you," said Philippe, looking away. He seemed uncomfortable. "If you want, I mean."
Harry did want that. He'd been having some trouble with his homework lately, and despite Philippe's claims he was convinced the talk with his teacher would not involve a friendly chat about the significance of the number three and its link with Samhain. However, he did not want to look like a fool by appearing too eager for Philippe's company (he would look a bit too desperate for moral support for his tastes). So, he simply pretended to think it over. When a sufficient amount of time had passed, he nodded solemnly, accepting the offer.
"I'd like that." He did not add anything else, not wanting to overdo the gratitude.
Philippe didn't verbally acknowledge the answer. Instead, he began walking.
After a moment of indecision, Harry followed.
To arrive to the courtyard where Harry was expected, they had to make a big detour. Usually, they would've passed through one of the Great Hallways to head over to the other side of the palace. Unfortunately, with supper nearly over, the hallways were full to the brim with students heading to their rooms. To avoid being crushed by the tide of people, Harry and Philippe took a detour through less-used corridors.
The palace of Beauxbâtons didn't have many levels, but it covered a lot of ground, which more than made up for it. The school was enormous, and by estimation, only three fifths were actually in use. It had been built to last centuries and to accommodate an increase in students over the centuries, like all important magical schools.
The yet-unused parts of Beauxbâtons were easily accessible to students, though having been cautioned against wandering off there, many students never bothered to explore the maze of empty rooms and corridors, devoid of personal touches and with next to no furniture.
There was decoration, of course; ornate mirrors, gilded vases, paintings and statues. Beauxbâtons had a reputation to uphold, after all. But the important things were missing; the classrooms had no educative posters or chalk for the blackboard. There was no noise and the paintings were, more often than not, empty of their moving and talking inhabitants. They tended to be empty, dormant.
There were no hall monitors, though, which made those unused rooms and corridors popular for couples who wanted to have some time alone, or for groups of students who wanted to meet in private. They had no fear of being found or punished.
Harry had been told this, but he'd never seen it. Sometimes he'd explored the unused parts of the palace, curious and in need of adventure. It became boring quite fast, because the rooms had nothing much of interest and all seemed quite alike, so after the fifty first rooms, it began to get repetitive and Harry stopped exploring.
When he had explored, he'd never seen any of those other students that supposedly also liked wandering around in the unused parts of the palace. The school was enormous, though, so it could be that Harry had just missed them.
It took them a few minutes to walk the detour, and in the end Harry had started running, persuaded he'd be late for the talk with his teacher. Philippe had protested, shouting about how he didn't want to be forced to sweat just before bed, but he'd still run after Harry.
They arrived in the East Courtyard red-faced and completely out of breath. Unfortunately, once there Harry realized an unfortunate side effect of Beauxbâtons' gigantic size; the courtyard was so big that Harry had no idea where he was expected, and he couldn't see the teacher.
"Where're you s'posed to go?" asked Philippe nonchalantly.
Harry looked at the huge garden, with the plants and trees (amongst which where the 'guardians', the pink flowers with eyes and teeth, staring at people passing them by).
"... I don't know. They didn't say."
Philippe looked around and, seeing the size of the courtyard, realized the problem.
"Well, we can find one of the benches around here and stand on it, so we're high enough to maybe see him?"
Having no better idea, Harry agreed.
They found a nice stone bench under a tall willow tree. Philippe went and stood on the bench, his hands shaped like a visor on his forehead, despite the sun already being down and the only source of light being the carved pumpkins and glittering Estelettes. Harry was joining Philippe on the bench just as the boy pointed forward.
"Is that him?" he asked.
Harry turned, and together the boys looked in the same direction. Near one of the school walls were two teachers, smoking together. The courtyard was really empty this time of the day, and those two teachers were the only people to be seen.
Harry strained his eyes, but was disappointed.
"No," he said. "They aren't my teachers."
There were so many plants and things around that it was possible they just hadn't seen the teacher they were looking for, but Harry doubted it. Maybe Nina had understood the message wrong? Maybe Harry was expected elsewhere?
"What do you think we should do now?" asked Harry, at a loss.
The answer he received was a heavy 'thump' sound, like something heavy falling down. Harry turned towards Philippe, expecting the boy to have let himself fall backwards into the soft grass, perhaps to rest. Instead, he saw Philippe's rigid and immobilized body, the eyes moving around in a panic.
At the same time, Harry was hit by something from behind, and his whole body locked up, unable to move. He fell backwards, landing half on top of Philippe. He couldn't move. Couldn't scream.
That was the last thing he remembered.