A/N1: Standard disclaimer. See chapter 1 for details.
A/N2: I am astounded and humbled by the reception of the first chapter. I sincerely hope this story will continue to entertain you.
For the next few weeks, Snape alternated between swooping and hovering, Trelawney fluttered, and the new Defence teacher, 'Mad-Eye' Moody, terrorized the students with sharp cries of 'Constant Vigilence!' and exhibition of the unforgivables. Everyone in the Great Hall had become used to Hedwig regularly sweeping in to deliver envelopes and packages to Hermione. It was so noticeable that Malfoy had added to his insult repertoire 'Even the Mudblood has more people who like her than Scarhead'.
As Harry sat at breakfast quietly stroking and talking to the snowy owl, his attention was caught by an indrawn breath. Shifting his gaze to the almost hyperventilating Hermione, he saw her carefully tuck what looked like a paperback book into a robe pocket. She gave him a quick nod and mouthed, 'Later'. Suddenly, he felt that he could face even the worst of Hagrid's creatures with a smile.
"École de Magie du Grand Bayou? Pardon me, Hermione; besides being a mouthful, that sounds like French."
"Yes, it is, but English is also spoken there. It is located in the southern part of the United States and was founded when that area was under French rule."
"What makes you think this is the best choice?"
"Turn the page and look at the school's seal."
"A snake? Was this started by Slytherins?"
"Don't you ever pay attention? It was begun as a day school by magical French colonists and was expanded when the Acadians arrived." She went into lecture mode. "Acadians were colonists relocated from the Nova Scotia area after Great Britain took over that part of North America. This was chronicled in a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow."
"Never heard of him."
"An American poet, you philistine."
"Think he was related to Neville?"
"Honestly, Harry. Can't you focus?"
"You're the one who started in on poetry. Right," he flipped the pages of the school catalogue, "I can speak English and there's no connection to Slytherin. Sounds good."
"Harry," one hand stilled his, "it teaches parselmagic."
"What?"
"Look, we know that you're not evil just because you can speak with snakes. The EM–that's what it's called for short–covers magic from many areas of the world: Africa, the Caribbean, native America… Snakes are an integral part of many ceremonies. Even some Muggle religions feature serpent handling. Magical Britain is selling itself short by being so prejudiced."
"Well, being so accepting is definitely a mark in its favour. Would the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' thing be a problem?"
She frowned. "Wizards and witches are such a small minority of the world's population that I'm sure stories have spread, but with it being so far away… Tell you what, Harry," she snatched the book from him, "let me see if they will send someone to interview us, and we can interview them in return."
Harry grimaced. "Dumbledore won't like that. Snape, on the other hand, might dance a jig at the thought of me leaving."
"It's none of Headmaster Dumbledore's business where you go to school. Just in case he thinks to interfere, let me continue to take care of the correspondence to keep him from suspecting anything. Besides, Professor Snape probably wouldn't mind me withdrawing as well, although I don't believe he is that talented in the terpsichorean pastime." She took in his clueless expression and sighed, "Dancing."
"While you're doing that, make sure you keep your parents up-to-date on our progress. I don't want to get all ready and then have something come up at the last minute and keep us here."
Harry stared after his red-haired friend, who was running with competition-worthy speed towards the castle, waving his arms and screaming at top decibel. "Come on, Hermione," he tried to tug his arm out of her grip, "let's catch up to him and see what's going on."
"He ate another one of the twins' candies," she informed him abruptly and continued to drag him towards the Three Broomsticks. "Don't worry; it'll wear off in an hour or so. At least that's what they promised."
"…Promised? You knew about this?"
"Well, I had to get rid of him before our meeting with the American school representative. You know Ron wouldn't be able to keep something like this to himself."
"And how about giving me some warning?" Harry's voice was irritated as he made a futile effort to smooth his hair.
"And you are patently unable to lie to Ron," she pointed out. "Besides, she's not going to be concerned with how well-groomed you are. If anything, I'm worried a little about your grades."
"Now you tell me this!"
Neither of the two would look at each other for fear of laughing when the visitor introduced herself. She was a slender woman in her late twenties, with caramel coloured skin and blue almond-shaped eyes. She wore a wide pleated headband, which was necessary to contain her umber hair, which had such an abundance of curls to make Hermione's look board-straight and Harry's unkempt mop as slicked back as first-year Draco's.
"Hermione, Harry," she shook their hands as they entered the upstairs room, "nice to meet you. I'm Clarisse Fontenot, Claire for short; I wasn't fond of my full name even before that movie came out. Now, let's sit down and have some tea, since you Brits can't make a decent cup of coffee if your lives depended upon it." She wrapped a knee-length sweater around herself as they sat around the table.
"Are you a professor at École de Magie?" Harry asked, not mangling the pronunciation too much.
"Not at the moment." She grinned. "My grandmother is the headmistress and sent me to check you out as I already had plans to visit England."
Hermione appeared disappointed. "I was hoping to get an indication as to whether or not we would be accepted as transfer students."
"Ah, Grand-mère said that it shouldn't be a problem. It's a great school; I graduated from there and plan to return and teach once I acquire my second mastery."
"Oh, what are your specialties?" Hermione as well as Harry leaned forward.
"I'm already a certified Potions Mistress and have almost completed my Defence Mastery. There are certain traditional duelling styles which are still in use on this side of the pond, and I am not familiar with them. We're a bit more relaxed over there."
"I can tell by the way you speak and move." Hermione admitted. "Wizarding Britain does seem to believe that Victoria yet rules."
"Yowzer, if that's the case, my instructors are in for a rude awakening if they mistake me for a poor, weak female."
"Make sure it's their last mistake," she advised with an evil grin. The two shared a sisterly 'high five'.
Oblivious to the feminist byplay, Harry asked, "How many masteries are you aiming to get?"
Hermione elbowed him. "Nosy, much? That could be considered rude."
"It's just that, so far, she has the same ones as Snape–"
"Professor Snape."
"–and it would be glorious if she could put him in the shade."
"Severus Snape?" Claire's nose wrinkled. "In that case, I'll consider a little more seriously the one I was offered last year. At any rate, to the other reason for my visit: I understand that the critical issue at the moment is the impending Tri-Wizard Tournament. And that you, Harry, expect to be pulled into it."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
"I studied the amended rules," she pulled out a dog-eared booklet, "and the age limit should preclude that."
"With me nearby, I wouldn't bet on it," he simply stated.
Hermione agreed. "He doesn't necessarily look for it, but trouble seems to know where he is 24/7."
"So," Harry drummed his fingers nervously on the wooden table, "theoretically, if my name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, even if I didn't put it in–which I wouldn't do–would I be required to compete?"
"Not that I can tell," she informed him. "That would be a clear violation of the rules, and you should be disqualified. Sorry," she gave a half-grin, "if that sounds as if you were guilty of the offence."
"But the way things happen around me…"
Hermione pressed the point. "And if someone forced the matter?"
"Let's see." She flipped through pages and ran her finger down several sections. "The final ruling on this would be one of the ministry heads…Department of International Magical Cooperation, a Mr. Crouch, according to the chain of command chart which I was provided."
"It sounds like he would know the rules backwards and forwards then." Hermione crossed her arms. "Of course, we haven't been very impressed with certain members of the ministry lately, so what if he insists?"
"Then we would have a conundrum. A singularity, if you will. I managed to run this by EM's law professor, and he believes that if Harry accepts that he has been chosen, then participation in the tournament will automatically emancipate him. Make him an adult in the eyes of law and society."
"So," Hermione tapped her bottom lip, "does that mean that the same result will occur if the participation is forced upon him?"
Claire nodded. "Sounds logical."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione hugged him. "That would mean, after the tournament is over, you can leave Hogwarts and no one can stop you."
He was not so sanguine. "That's if I survive it. How is fourteen-year-old me supposed to defeat challenges designed for a fully-trained wizard?"
"We can ask the professors for extra lessons," she began.
Claire cleared her throat. "Sorry, but that won't work. Competitors are not allowed to approach any of the faculty for assistance."
"What did I say about my luck?" Harry frowned in cogitation. "Would a privately paid tutor count as faculty?"
"It shouldn't, as he or she would not be associated with an established institution, but tutors don't come cheap."
"Money is not an issue," he waved away the warning, "so, are you interested in the job?"
"You're absolutely convinced that this is going to happen?"
"Based on Harry's past history, I would estimate at least a seventy-five percent chance." Hermione screwed up her face. "Could we make tentative plans for how we'll handle it, if so? We'd really appreciate an adult's input."
Claire rubbed her nose. "I'll fill in Grand-mère and see what she has to offer when I get back to my hotel in London. What's a number where I can reach you?"
"A telephone?" she asked. "Electronics cannot be used around magic."
"Who told you that?" She pulled out a cell phone. "This is my Nokia, and I've seen pictures of one with a touchscreen. Before you know it, we'll be talking face-to-face, thousands of miles away."
"But Professor McGonagall told us… Did she lie?" Hermione half-rose in ire. "Have I been missing my parents for three years for no reason?"
"Well, magic does cause a little static, but most of the time you can understand the conversation. Maybe they tell you that so you students don't get distracted. I know at EM they're not allowed to bring them to the classroom. Of course, not everyone has one, as they're a little pricey yet."
"That's the argument Mum was using against Daddy getting a car phone earlier. He finally wore her down, claiming that it would come in handy if they had an auto accident."
"That type of reasoning will usually work in the end. So, I guess this means I'll have to visit your mediaeval village inside a big city and rent an owl."
"I'll pay for a phone," Harry spoke up. He pulled his money bag from a side pocket. "I save a little back each year and haven't spent much so far. You'll have to hit Gringotts and exchange it for pounds, so let me know if that's not enough."
"Should be," she dropped the coins in a side purse, "and if the shite hits the fan, you'll have full access to your own money to pay me back."
"And, Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm, "as a legal adult you can leave the school any time you don't have classes."
"Yeah," he grinned, "that would probably be the only bright spot in getting chosen for a deadly contest. If Dumbledore agrees to it."
"It wouldn't be any of his business. Okay!" She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I have my assignments. I'll save my contact information on the phone and owl it to you. Keep me posted on this end, while I check back with Grand-mère. Nice meeting you guys, but I've got my first training session and have to run." She shook their hands in farewell then twirled and disappeared with a loud crack.
"What was that?" Harry asked, startled.
"I believe that was apparation," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Another way to travel magically."
"It has to be an improvement over floos and portkeys."
"Not to mention flying cars."
"I'm not the one who ran it into a tree."
