Fugitive Prince

by March Madness

A prophecy stretches war a decade too long, ending with the Potter’s second son flourishing while the first suffers a dark life of ignominy. Harry Potter now rests in the hands of Fate as he’s forced to prove his worth to a world that doesn't care to

20. Chapter XIX

Fugitive Prince

By March Madness

It was raining on April first. Ginnie awoke to a distant mutter of thunder, and the light tapping of spring raindrops blown against her window. When she went down to breakfast and looked out the dining-room window, the world seemed to have been touched, over-night, by an artist's colors. Despite the rain the sky glowed strangely. Young grass showed emerald green, daffodils stood tall, with buds almost ready to open. The forsythia bushes had burst into golden plumes.

Ginne and the Cooking Contest, Catherine Woolley.

Chapter XIX

There was, regrettably, nothing that could be done to stop it. Lucius had tried all acceptable avenues, lowering himself to a near-begging status, but the others wouldn't be moved.

Regretfully, hiding concern with what Narcissa's reaction would be, Lucius nodded his head. "Since there is no other way," he conceded harshly, making even so small a surrender sound more like his own victory, and he sipped from the wineglass, "I've sent the boy a letter. I hope you are satisfied. He will undoubtedly send a reply to inquire after a specific time--which will be at my own discretion." He gave the other two occupants in the room, wizards who unfortunately held the same amount of power as he-- being then unassailable in their wishes--disdainful looks. "I will not have my plans broken because of your foolish wants."

"Wants?" one repeated unbelievingly. "Lucius, our 'wants' are the only rational things in this entire exercise."

"We are merely looking out for our combined interests," added the other in a silken voice, one that Lucius knew had been studied from his own. "You are taking unimaginable risks-"

"I do what I do and need not explain myself," Lucius interrupted, giving his pair rivals a wolfish sneer. "Not even to you."

…

Something had bothered him the entire afternoon and, unfortunately for Draco, Harry had begun to realize exactly what that was. There wasn't much time to think about it; dinner wasn't too far off, and he had said something to the Irish girl about going.

He walked down the hall, mulling the problem over in his head, trying to search for a solution, when he saw Hermione sitting down, reading a newspaper. It was the Daily Prophet. 'Perfect,' Harry thought, and then, 'How did she get the paper?' He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then forced himself to move on. Just because she suddenly had the Prophet, a paper he meant to get today, didn't mean anything... 'Stop being paranoid. Not everything's about you.'

"Hermione," greeted Harry with a nod, and he sat down beside her. "You have the newspaper?"

Hermione looked up, startled, but she nodded and said she did. Then she gave him a sharp look. "Are you ready for dinner already? You haven't even changed."

"It doesn't matter what I wear, only that I'm there," Harry rebutted calmly. "Do you think that I can borrow the section about my brother?"

The witch flushed, eyes dropping back to the paper as she said, "Your brother? Leonard?" Harry nodded. "How did you know-"

"That they have a section about him?" Harry shrugged, intent on making her find out. He wasn't in the mood for telling anyone anything he knew, especially not anymore.

The sniff Hermione gave showed that she was not impressed by his silence, but she passed the Prophetover to him, watching carefully to see what he did with it. "I asked Lavender to send me the paper whenever something interesting came up," offered the witch, eyes fixed on Harry. It was strange to be watched so carefully; Harry shot her a look but Hermione only arched her eyebrow. "I thought you might want to know how a British paper found its way into France."

"It wouldn't be something I worried about," Harry lied, skimming through the many folds. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat back into her chair, giving off an air of supreme disappointment. Harry looked up with some surprise. "What?"

"Harry..." The witch sighed deeply and shook her head. She reached out a hand to grab one of his and, bewildered, Harry wrinkled his forehead. Hermione looked him in the eyes. "Harry, why don't you trust me?" she asked sincerely, sounding hurt.

Harry straightened up, pulling back a little. "What?" he repeated dumbly, not quite sure what he'd heard.

She sighed again, letting his hands drop as she rubbed her forehead. "I just, I just don't understand it," her confession went. "I've been trying so hard, Harry, to get you to trust me even a little, but nothing works. It's like you're convinced that I'm going to hurt you, somehow, and you won't even try to..."

"Try to what?" asked Harry, though he wasn't sure he should.

Hermione looked up, eyes a little watered. "Try to be your friend," she finished softly. She took a deep breath, whole body close to shaking, and Harry wanted nothing more than to leave the conversation as is. "I've lied for you, Harry," the witch continued, "I've voluntarily left the school campus--which is so illegal, we could get expelled--and I did it for you twice! I'm doing my best to avoid Aurors, professors, ministers, and whoever else you don't seem to like so you won't get suspicious of me, even though there's no reason you need to be! You're one of the only people I know here in Beauxbatons. I have no reason to try and alienate you. I don't know why you're so scared of me."

She took another deep breath. "I don't know what else I can do, Harry. There is nothing else I can do to get you to trust me."

Harry stared at her, wide-eyed. "Hermione...You don't know what you're asking, " he said slowly.

"I do," she countered strongly, her voice not as shaky as it had been. "I know you don't trust a lot of people, and I bet that Malfoy's discouraging you from doing so, but Harry... you're going to need help in the tournament. Last month had to show you that!" She gestured to herself. "I can help if you let me--I want to help!"

Harry sighed, frustrated. "Hermione," he started again, firmly, "you don't know who I am, not really, and last month should have proved that to you." He looked into her eyes and softly added, "It should have proved that I'm not a person you should be friends with. After all, not a lot of people like my friends."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry," she promised fervently, "not if you give me a chance to help instead. I trust that you're smart enough to know who to be friends with. I just want to be one of them, and I'm tired of thinking up ways on how to become so."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione..."

"We can start slow," suggested Hermione, swallowing. She motioned to the newspaper still in his hands. "We can just talk like friends would, like why you want to read the paper. Most teens aren't interested in the rest of the world."

"I can do that," said Harry softly, taking a seat next to Hermione. He glanced at her. "But it's not anything illegal."

She smiled shakily. "It doesn't have to be," Hermione informed him playfully. "We don't have to go on adventures just to have a good time." She rustled the pages. "Now, you said you were looking up something about your brother?"

He nodded stiffly, a little unsettled by her sitting so close. "Leo has monthly interviews with the Prophet, and they're published the first of the month."

"Today?"

"Yes." He turned a page or two and stopped. "See, here he is."

Leo smiled and waved happily from the Black Manor, grinning impishly with his two guardians on either side. For a moment, Harry couldn't breathe. He just looked at the picture longingly. 'I didn't think it would be this hard,' he admitted to himself silently, eyes taking in not only Leo, but the small shot of his home. Of Remus, who Harry hadn't seen in a month and hadn't heard from. Of Sirius, looking happier than Harry had last seen. Of the visiting room, where Leo always gave his interviews.

His little brother, brushing back blonde hair from his eyes, frowned as the strands kept falling back into his face and Sirius laughed noiselessly at him. Remus rolled his eyes, probably on the verge of suggesting a haircut for the Boy Who Lived. The papers would eat it up.

"He looks really cute," Hermione pointed out, laughing when Sirius ruffled up the young celebrity's hair. Leo glared at him, pouting.

Harry smiled a little, relaxing. "He's a good kid. A lot better than anyone else I know."

"He's still young yet. And you don't know a lot of people."

Harry shook his head. "No, you don't know Leo. He's... He's better than... If you meet him once, you just know that Leo's destined for greatness."

He felt Hermione's eyes lingering over him uncomfortably, so he cleared his throat and quickly said, "I just wanted to see what he said in the interview."

"Why?" Hermione frowned a little. "You're his brother. Nothing he says can be news to you."

Noise coming from down the hall stopped the conversation and they both looked up. Ginny, humming to herself and using her hands to brush her hair, stopped dead and blushed a little. "Um… am I interrupting something?" She took a hesitant step into the room.

"No," Harry answered immediately, moving to brush the newspaper aside.

Hermione grabbed one of his hands and kept him from standing. "No," she repeated meaningfully to the other girl. "Harry was just talking about his brother. There's something in the newspaper about Leonard."

"Oh!" Cheerfully, Ginny chose to take a seat and leaned forward, interested. "What about?"

Harry stiffened but Hermione squeezed one of his hands, giving him a look that clearly meant to remind him of her conversation. Letting out a low breath, Harry sat back against the cushions, forcing himself to relax as Ginny went on about something, how she was getting ready for dinner.

He closed his eyes briefly. 'What can they do to me?' he asked himself, hardly hearing the girls' excited conversation about recent news from Hogwarts. 'They've already shown that they're not here to hurt me.'

He opened his eyes to see them watching him expectantly, exchanging quick glances. He swallowed, an odd feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, then shoved on. "We were just reading the paper," he repeated Hermione's words dumbly, passing the newspaper over to her. "Leo's interview is in there."

"My parents are probably reading this right now," Ginny said with a little smile. "Mum, at least. She's always reading the latest news."

"Your parents and every other witch or wizard," retorted Hermione teasingly. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting to know more about Leonard." She looked up to Harry. "I was just asking Harry why he wanted to read it, though. I can't imagine Leonard saying some surprise in such a public place." She quickly handed the pages back to him and Harry escaped answering the question by busying himself in reading.

It was just as he thought. Without thinking, Harry quietly murmured, "It's not in here."

"What's not?" Ginny perked up, eyes wide and questioning. Harry glanced at her in surprise and then glanced back to the paper. The girl gave Hermione an impatient look and Hermione only shook her head.

"Was Leo suppose to-"

"Leonard," Harry interrupted without looking up. "Leo doesn't like to be called that by anyone he doesn't know."

Hermione bit her cheek then tried again. "Was Leonard supposed to say something?"

"I think it's about time for dinner," Harry suddenly started, standing up. The sheets of paper fluttered to the floor, gathering at his feet only to be ruthlessly squashed when he stepped on them. He looked around. "It is, isn't it?"

Ginny stood up with him, one hand going to her hip. "Even if it is, we're not going anywhere-"

"Ron isn't even ready yet," Hermione hurriedly cut in. "Neither is Malfoy, for that matter." She glanced toward the hallway. "They wouldn't be very happy if we left without them." Ginny rolled her eyes but sat down and after a minute, Harry nervously did the same. "I don't know why it's taking the boys more time than the girls to get ready."

After she stopped talking, the room's conversation lapsed into awkward silence. Ginny fidgeted, sending looks to Hermione every time she could, looks Harry couldn't ignore. It didn't help that Hermione was just sitting there patiently, pretending that nothing was wrong.

Hermione's words about trust echoed uncomfortable in his ears. It was true, of course. After his parents died… Harry swallowed softly, finishing the thought. 'Since mum and dad died, it's been hard to talk to anyone, hard to trust them.'

A few minutes later, he let out a tortured breath. "I just... I had heard that Leo said something. I wanted to see for myself whether it was true... and it wasn't in the interview so..."

"Was it about you?" Hermione asked, quickly talking before Ginny could say a word. Harry nodded and, pressing her lips together, Hermione thoughtfully added, "It was about the tournament, then, wasn't it?"

Harry gave her a shocked look and she smiled merrily. "It's obvious, Harry. If it's about you, it's because the reporters asked Leonard how he felt with you in this tournament. It's a question everyone will want the answer to. But you said it wasn't in the paper..."

Ginny, allowed to speak for once, made a scoffing noise. "Hermione, if Leonard was talking about the tournament, they'd probably edit it out. No one outside of Beauxbatons is allowed to talk about the tournament results or tasks or anything else, at least not until the year's over." She tossed her head back, sinking into the cushions. "McGonagall was drilling that into everyone's heads as they left. Now, I can't get it out of mine."

"They edited Leo's interview?" Harry summed up, taken back. "They've never done that before."

"You were with Leo when he gave out interviews?" asked Ginny. "I never saw your picture."

"I didn't want to have my picture taken," he answered lightly, "so I asked not to be in the photos they published." He looked into his hands, willing the conversation to change.

"They couldn't avoid it," Hermione replied to his question about editing. "Not at this security level." She paused. "Harry, how did you know about what the interview had? I thought that the Prophet took the highest precautions--they did everything to make sure that nothing was leaked before it was printed. I know the other papers would pay a lot of money to know beforehand."

He shrugged awkwardly. "I was told."

"By who?" she pressed intently.

"By Malfoy," Ginny answered, making Harry jerk back. She smiled in a dark, victorious fashion, and leaned forward towards Harry. "I knew it!" the little witch declared. "I knew it! That's what he's blackmailing you with!"

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed, giving the girl a look.

Ginny only shook her head. Harry, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked, losing any play of relaxation and becoming defensive. "What blackmail?"

"Ginny, stop it right now," Hermione warned.

"Harry, everyone's noticed," Ginny said over Hermione, locking eyes with the boy. "Everyone," she repeated darkly. "They've all noticed how you'll do whatever Malfoy says, tell him anything he wants, but only him. You're doing all this because he's doing something for you."

She stood and kicked at the newspaper on the floor. "And that's it, isn't it? He's getting you information about Leonard." Her hands curled into angry, white fists and she viciously bit out, "Not everything is about Leonard, Harry!"

Harry eyed her coldly. "I don't know where you came up with this idea, but you're wrong. Draco hasn't passed me any news about my brother."

"You can lie to me, Harry," Ginny said in a near-hiss, "but I know the truth. Is your deal worth it now?"

"Ginny, stop!"

"No," Harry said to the witch, glaring at Ginny. "No, go ahead Ginny. Tell me whatever you want."

She took in a deep breath, but shook her head. "I won't, because you're not ready to hear what I have to say." Her eyes flashed and, aggressively, she crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to contradict her. "You're not ready to know. I thought you were, but you're not."

"Harry." Hermione stood up, effectively blocking out Ginny with her body. "Just calm down, please. We don't need to fight." She looked at him imploringly. "We don't need to fight so soon."

Harry looked away. No, the deal wasn't worth it. He wanted to spit at Ginny, wanted to curse Draco until his bones ached forever. Her words were the echoes that had haunted him for days now: giving up some measure of freedom for a result that never showed. He couldn't stand it. "I couldn't believe what Draco said was true," he murmured quietly to Hermione, head spinning with anger and feeling unable to stop the torrent of words coming out of his mouth. "Leo... Leo wouldn't say anything like that. And it's not in the papers--he couldn't have said that."

"Said what?" Hermione asked gently. Behind her, Ginny started to move, but Hermione made a violent hand gesture that stopped it.

Harry let out a deep breath. "...Nothing. He didn't say anything. Draco's a liar."

"How could Malfoy have known about what your brother said?" Hermione began slowly.

He let out a deep, twisted chuckle. "How could he?" he asked sarcastically, eyes flashing with self-directed anger. "Lucius could probably find out any secret... but it's taken so long..." He shook his head. "I'm a fool for not seeing it before. Lucius... Lucius would never do that to me. But I don't know his son at all. How could I have trusted him?"

"The Malfoys are evil," Ginny blurted out stiffly. Both of their heads snapped up to look at her and she looked back at them defiantly. "You could feel it in their house. Their manor was pure magic, and it was hostile-"

"Ginny!"

"What do you know about evil?" Harry asked lowly. His head felt frightfully hot, and his hands inexplicably cool--as though he was given both pain and cure at the same time.

Hermione closed her mouth thoughtfully, staring at him, and he knew that she was putting words together in a way that wouldn't be offensive. She would never run out of answers, Harry determined bitterly, but only run out of delicate ways of proving her intelligence.

"I think that the best definition of evil," started Ginny, and Harry nearly bit his tongue in anger at hearing her voice, "is something that looks good but really isn't."

"And you've had plenty of experience with this?" Harry challenged, knowing exactly where she was going with it. "How many times have you come across something 'evil'? Or is the word just a label you put on things that you don't like?"

Ginny glared back at him. "It's easy to attack me when I'm pushing you, isn't it? Whenever you feel threatened?"

"Just as easy as it is for you to condemn everything you don't understand," Harry shot back.

"I'm trying to help you, Harry!" the girl yelled at him, throwing her fists in the air in a gesture of frustration. "Why can't you see that! Why?!"

"Because you're going about it the wrong way," Hermione answered lowly.

Harry stared at her, trying to make Ginny disappear and regretting ever trusting her, ever talking to her. 'She should be in Hogwarts,' he decided tiredly, rubbing at his forehead. His scar was beginning to burn for some reason, a light, distracting pain. 'She should be away from me.'

A glance towards the window showed that the sun had set sometime when he'd looked away, but his eyes were dragged back inside when he heard voices coming down the hall. Arguing. 'Ron and Draco,' he identified wearily. 'Fighting in there just like we were fighting in here.' Dinner didn't sound the least bit appealing anymore.

"I'm going about it the only way I know how," Ginny suddenly murmured, still staring at him, making him twitch. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Harry. I just..." She shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know what else I can do."

Her words were so reminiscent of Hermione's that Harry glanced at the girl, Hermione returning his look evenly. The two boys walked in, still fighting lowly, not noticing the frigid atmosphere of the room.

"Ron!" Hermione stepped around Harry, going over to Ron and tugging at his sleeve. "Why is it that every time I leave you alone, I come back to find your fists out?"

"Funny," Draco cut in, "that's the same question you ask a gorilla."

While those three began in earnest, Ginny took a step towards Harry. He took a step away and she rolled her eyes. "I just wanted to add something," the girl informed him with a touch of exasperation in her voice.

"Add it from there," he replied darkly. "I don't want to be anywhere near you."

"I thought you'd want to know... My mum used to talk about her old friends from Hogwarts--purebloods, mostly--and how they became Death Eaters because they honestly thought it was the best choice." Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "But, obviously, it wasn't."

'To you,' Harry wanted to spit out, but all he managed was, "And what happened to them? Did they... did they change their minds?"

"Some of them. A few even became spies and helped win the war."

"The war wasn't won," Harry declared on reflex. "It was concluded without real effort from either side to that end."

"Of course," she said placatingly, "you'd know all about that, with Leonard and all."

The three were waiting for them by the door, Draco glaring daggers at Ginny. For once, Harry didn't care. He stared at Draco until the Slytherin looked back curiously, and Harry wanted to sneer. 'You lied about Leo,' he thought to the boy, 'because Leo would say something like that. He'd never feel the need to ingratiate himself with the press by claiming association with me. If you can lie, so can I.'

He then turned and gave Ginny a hard look, one to match the speculative one she'd been giving him. "Why did you think I'd want to know about that?" he asked scornfully, annoyed with her familiarity.

"I just wanted you to know that everyone knows people who aren't popular. But just because you know them, doesn't mean you have to be friends with them forever."

Harry glared at her. "You listened to our conversation," he stated flatly. Ginny nodded. She stared at him, not the least bit repentant. Curious despite himself, Harry asked, "Why are you telling me?"

She bit her lip, answer coming slowly. "Because I'm not the only one who overheard what Hermione was saying to you. But I want you to know from me. Harry, I'm only trying to do what's best for you-"

"You can leave me alone, for starters."

"If you value your privacy so much," Ginny spat back at him, riled up from his unconcern about her confession, "then you better talk with Malfoy. You don't think he took so long to get ready for the fun of it?"

As she walked away, Harry followed with his eyes, looking over at Draco who stared back evenly.

…

"The task for each champion is to defeat a specifically chosen monster," the Minister read out, face blank even as most of the champions gathered around grimaced. He paused, letting the news sink in and then continued. "At some time in the month, you will be told that the task will begin. Until then, you should take the time to prepare. It may begin tomorrow, it may begin the last day of the month."

The Minister stopped and briskly snapped the parchment closed. "That is all," he deigned to say before simply walking away.

His exit took the respectful silence with it, and the champions broke out into excited conversation.

They had all been gathered outside after dinner, which had been a mundane affair of champions trying to ingratiate each other in preparation for backstabbing. Harry's presence had surprised many--it had been painfully obvious that he was unwelcome by most, and that the rest were close enough to the same emotion to be borderline-hostile. At least the cool night air provided some relief from the stifling atmosphere.

Harry thoughtfully leaned against the wall, watching the Minister's fading back. Plenty of small insects were crowding the clock tower's giant light source, making a buzzing sound that was barely loud enough to be heard over the laughter, shrieks, and groans of the students.

His thoughts drifted back to Draco and, as had happened all dinner, some part of him rose in immediate defense. 'He could have been telling the truth,' Harry realized guiltily, relieved that nothing had actually been said to the other boy. If Draco was telling the truth and Harry had tried to brand him as a liar…

He mentally snarled at himself. 'If Draco knew about what Leo said, things that no one else knew about, then he has a way to get information. Leo gives out interviews in the middle of the month--Draco has known for at least a week, possibly two, and he didn't say a word!'

His mind split again, the two sides arguing and battling against each other: whether he should still truth Lucius's son. 'He may have just gotten the information--but he may be lying about it altogether!'

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. His scar was aching, burning like a live fire against his skin that nothing could ease. He wanted to believe Draco--as Lucius's son, that would be the easiest course of all--but things were taking too long and he'd been left in the dark far too often. Sirius's visit and the excuses from then didn't hold true anymore.

'All it took was something as simple as a newspaper article,' he mused to himself with cold mirth, 'and then it became obvious that nothing made sense.' He wasn't sure if it made much sense--if, to any other person viewing all the facts, there was any logic to his decision. But he just knew somehow that Draco couldn't be telling the whole truth. Some part of him still seemed to quail at the quasi-logic, struggling desperately to remind him of all Draco had done for him, but a greater part refused to be duped any more.

As simply as that, Harry felt the bonds slide away.

Two faces started towards him, obviously veering away from the rest of the crowd. The first was Eachna, unsurprisingly. He couldn't help being suspicious about whether her earlier good will had come from her gratitude for his help or from her desire to catch him somehow, trap him for her own plans.

The second girl, surprisingly, was Adele, the same girl who'd been with the Felix boy from earlier. She wasn't a champion that Harry expected to be on friendly terms with. The Spanish girl, however, looked like she was being dragged by her Irish counterpart, not pleased at all with her destination.

When they stopped next to him, Harry politely nodded his head. "Hello."

Eachna plowed in immediately. "Well?" she demanded, excitement reflected in her eyes. "Whatd'ya think, Harry?" Her eyes looked wide enough to just pop out. Adele shifted uncomfortably.

"About?" Harry asked, letting his body straighten out. His face's skin felt roughened from where it had lain against the stone wall, and he rubbed at it, finding small pebbles had attached themselves to him. He brushed them off, sending with the rocks any last thoughts about Draco Malfoy.

The Irish champion sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "Abou' tha task, silly! What else would Ah be talkin' abou'?" She pointed a finger into his chest in a chastising manner. "Ya kno, we 'ave ta start plannin--can't just go'n and hope fur tha best, now can we?" She pursed her lips in concentration. "Ah was thinkin tha maybe we could all jus go'n fight all our monsters together. Three 'gainst one be better odds than one 'gainst one, you agree?"

"I agree," Adele put in, "but I doubt that the Ministry will allow us to team up. They will probably have some spell in place to assure against that possibility." She blinked lazily at Harry as if waiting for him to disagree with her.

"Well, maybe," Eachna allowed slowly, "but tha won't stop us from at least trainin together, will it? They'll 'ave to let us do that."

"Maybe," said the Spanish girl, sounding worse off for the admittance.

Eachna looked at Harry with her wide eyes and elbowed him, laughing when he took a defensive step back and used his arms to cover his midsection. "What'cha ta say ta tha, 'arry? You ain't but spoke two words since Ah got 'ere. Thinkin up a betta plan?"

"I think Adele's right," Harry finally said, keeping out of Eachna's reach. "They wouldn't let it be that easy for us. After last month, I wouldn't want to let my guard down." Adele looked pleased at his answer.

"Then we'll 'ave to train especially 'ard," Eachna determined. "Ah think it'd be best if we got a few more people involved, tho. Won't hurt none." Before Harry could stop her, the girl had turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling into the crowd, "'EY, YOU LOT! LISTEN UP FOR ONE, WILL YA?"

Her voice quieted them somewhat, but the quiet wasn't better compared to the multitude of eyes that turned to stare at them curiously. Harry blanched, muttering, "She didn't have to do that."

"I agree," he thought he heard Adele murmur in reply.

"Now," Eachna started in a normal voice, having everyone's attention. Her hands went to her hips, lecturing position, and her spill of red hair was especially violent under the bad torchlight. "Las' month weren't too good, was it? We all--most o' us--got knocked right off our feet. Sure, they didden give us any warnin', an' Ah've even 'eard some rumor that they didden wan' us to pass anyway--thought they'd use us all as'a example ta keep on our guard."

The murmurs turned dark. It seemed like everyone else had heard that particular rumor as well, and no one liked it. A few heads turned to Harry's way and were ignored.

"Ah dona want tha ta happen again," Eachna was saying, finger back out and shaking at the body of students. "Ah know ya dona want tha, either. So, Ah'm making a fair proposition."

She spread her hands out wide to include everyone. "How bout we all train together? We'll all get betta, we'll all be tha much more prepared fur the monsters we'll 'ave'ta face next week.-"

"And now," a voice whispered as Harry started to turn towards the deliciously inviting darkness, "you're planning to slip away."

Harry froze, looking over his shoulder. Adele was studying him with some grim satisfaction. Rigidly, he circled back to facing Eachna. Still staring at the Irish girl, he muttered, "What are you talking about?"

"I've been watching you, Harry Potter," Adele whispered, her own eyes focused strictly on the other girl. To anyone watching, it would look like the two were completely fascinated by what Eachna had to say. "Ever since I knew you were going to be a champion, I've watched you whenever you were around. Which wasn't much."

Harry felt the muscles in his jaw go tense and forcefully relaxed them, but then realized the rest of his body was in the same way. Paranoia leaped at him. "Is there a reason why?" he asked with forced calm. His eyes flickered over to Adele then quickly returned to Eachna.

"Youngest champion, one who is technically too young to even compete?" Adele shrugged, brushing her long hair behind a shoulder. "Call it curiosity. I wanted to know what you would do." She let out a twinkling sound of amusement, noise coming from deep in her throat. "It kept me occupied when I was bored. And no one else around here is as interesting as you've turned out to be."

She scooted a little closer until their shoulders touched. "I know what you are like," she whispered again, voice carrying only to his ear. "You do not like being around people. Whenever you can, you run away. At first, I thought you were only a coward. Now, I'm not so sure."

"You don't know anything," Harry rebuked scornfully, feeling a wave of relief. She couldn't, of course. She really couldn't.

"I knew you were lying when you said you were kidnapped," she added. "It was obvious. I felt stupid not to have noticed before. When you got back, you told everyone you were kidnapped and didn't know what was happening. But you did not act like you had been ill-treated, you did not behave like a victim. Instead, you avoided the Aurors who were trying to help you, like a criminal would. I wonder why no one else caught that-"

"Maybe there's a reason," Harry interrupted, looking from Eachna to Adele. He didn't glare; he only looked at her as if he were curious or even bored. "Just because I do or don't do a specific thing, it doesn't mean I'm automatically lying." His eyes narrowed and he looked away, carelessly added, "You'll never find out, either way."

"Maybe I will. We're going to be spending so much time together now, thanks to Eachna. In my country, they teach us to know our enemies." Her eyes flashed. "I'll find out whatever I want to know."

Harry gave her a sharp look, eyebrows raising in confusion. "What did I do to become your enemy?"

"Felix is my cousin, though his family lives in Portugal and mine in Spain. I have known him since we were children. He has behaved shamefully--but only because he was provoked." Adele gave him a haughty look. "His behavior is inexcusable but yours is as well. You are my enemy because you are his. Felix is too great a fool to do anything about it but I am not a fool."

"You are a fool," Harry muttered, turning away. Eachna was actually calling up a large crowd of interested, albeit suspicious champions for her team training sessions. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the cool stone and ignoring the Spanish girl altogether. She wasn't nearly as intimidating as she would wish to be.

"So, Harry, will ya join us?" Eachna materialized in front of his face, the head of a very large crowd all centered on him.

Harry took a step back, suddenly feeling very much smothered. Everyone was looking at him, some almost hungrily like a chew toy for the wolves. The Irish girl leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "Ah don't know if ya know, but som'a tha others think tha' ya be guilty of cheatin'. Remember what Ah said earlier?" She leaned back to give him a hard look, no longer the optimistic champion but one wanting nothing more than to win. "Ah know ya didden do nuthin', Harry, and Ah'm guessin' yer in over ya 'ead, so Ah want ta 'elp ya. But Ah cant 'elp if ya won't be tryin' ta look innacent."

"I didn't do anything," Harry whispered back fiercely, "and I don't need to do anything to prove that." He shoved her hand away, glaring. "And I don't need your help to get through this."

As he started to back away, Eachna loudly announced something, but he was beyond listening. 'It was stupid to come here,' Harry thought to himself viciously. 'I could have found out about the task some other way--and I didn't need to stay longer than I had to.'

"Come!" Out of nowhere, a hand appeared and aimed to grab Harry by the shoulder. Nimbly, he sidestepped and unwittingly fell right into another pair of waiting arms as he was surrounded by curious, sometimes hostile faces. The champions who spoke English were gathered around him like a tribe of warriors.

"Come where?" Harry bit out, keeping his feet light as he tried to force a distance around him where the other bodies wouldn't evade.

Eachna rolled her eyes in irritation at his reticence. "Come on, Harry! We're off ta 'ave a celebration! If ya don't want ta train with us, at least come'n have a party."

Behind her, Adele's sharp, knowing eyes were dark with delight, setting off warning sirens in his head, and Harry jerked away, nearly tipping into the crowd for his movement. "I don't want to go-"

"But you must," the Spanish champion insisted, smirking at his strained reluctance. Her command was repeated by dozens of bystanding champions, all just as demanding in his surrender. "After all, we're all friends here. We just want to get to know you better."

She leaned in closer. "I see you weren't listening. Eachna just announced that you were too scared to train with the rest of us, but that if you just spent some time with the champions, you'd change your mind. Her announcement was met with much enthusiasm." She grinned darkly. "I'm not the only one who has watched you, and I'm not the only one who wants to make you uncomfortable. Watch yourself this night, champion." Then Adele was gone in a flash of swirling robes, replaced by other strangers who chatted wildly about the upcoming celebration.

Like a whirlpool he couldn't escape, Harry found hands lashed to his body that dragged him down the paved sidewalks of Beauxbatons. Though he often walked the campus, he didn't recognize the dormitories that they were dragging him to--apartments for the other champions, large and spacious and fine. He scrambled wildly when a chance appeared, but it was impossible to escape before the doors to the building opened.

Loud voices deafened him but not enough to completely block out the music that was playing in the background as he stumbled into the apartments. Loud, pulsing sound and flashing light. As soon as he was forced inside, his captors slowly dissipated, dumping him into the center of the room where they were sure he wouldn't escape and then dissolving into the crowd of pre-arrived champions. There seemed to be hundreds of them, curiously staring at him until recognition hit: here was the boy who had bested them all.

A pair of dark-eyed girls sneered at him as they walked by, each holding a drink and looking like a pair of barmaids in their clothing and makeup. They jostled him intentionally, and it was only by quick reflex that he managed to escape having their beverages unceremoniously spilt onto his clothing. The tactic landed the drinks into a pale boy's lap, and he stood up with outrage, immediately lashing into a verbal abuse of the pair.

Smoke and fog made the ground impossibly to see, but reflected the flashing lights perfectly. Nearby, a group of champions laughed loudly as one of their own shoved enough space to begin dancing.

He walked through the room, searching for the exit but seeing only one side of the place turned into a makeshift mini-bar--fine glasses were spun around like frisbees, tipped over with glistening liquid that the champions seemed only too eager to drink up. Time passed like a spinning top, faster and faster and with greater wobbles from the party. He was left waiting for the inevitably collapse of the party, which seemed like the only way he'd now get away. Whenever he began walking near an exit, he was blocked off.

'I'm in a club,' Harry thought at first, staring around him in amazement. For sure, he thought that somehow the champions had bested the school's security to create a portal into a nightclub in the streets of France. But then he recognized the area's furnishings, frighteningly similar to his own rooms. He was in someone's apartments, an apartment that had its furniture pressed into the walls to create the effect of roominess. Every space was filled, though, with hot bodies and stifling breath.

"Harry!" Eachna appeared as if by magic over an hour later, her clothing and hair changed dramatically from the informal to the wildly adventurous, and Harry had to stare a moment to recognize her. She pressed a glass into his hand, drinking a similar one herself. "'Ere, Ah thought ya might like some-"

The drink was rudely taken away, snatched from the side, and Adele was there with a smirk on her face. Without explanation, she drained the glass and tossed it overhead. There was a crack--hardly audible over the many voices and the blasting music--and a house-elf, moving frantically, barely managed to catch the cup before it shattered onto the heads of those nearby. It disappeared as quickly as it came, like a flash of a ghost that Harry flinched at. His time without seeing her now seemed to have gone by too fast.

"You're too young to be drinking," the witch slurred, haughtily expression daring him to contradict. Another champions walked by and, without notice, Adele had taken his drink as well.

"So are you," he darkly answered. The witch paused, smirking at Harry over her stolen drink before swallowing it all in one swig.

The conversation had been yelled over the music and Harry twitched. His ears felt ready to pop with all the sound, feeling beaten down by sheer volume. The back of his neck burned and Harry looked around coolly, counting all the faces directed his way. They were watching, waiting to see what he would do, waiting to see what they could then do to him.

"I think you've had too many," he later shouted at the Spanish girl, when she swayed dangerously, gulping down her drink. It was the last in some unnumbered march of drinks. He'd watched her pick up glass after glass as if she were competing against some invisible foe. Instead of the usual exuberance most people experienced, though, the witch only seemed to be getting depressed.

His caution only brought a contemptuous glare to her face, but whatever she said in retort was lost beneath the buzzing all around them.

The music slowly began going down and the conversations dampening at the same speed. Even the enormous fans that cooled the room were dying down, resulting in more than a few complaints at the room's boiling heat. A creeping sensation rode over his body like a tidal wave, making him freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. Somehow, he knew the disruption in the celebration had its source in him.

'I don't know where I am, I don't know the people I am with,' Harry mentally acknowledged, keeping calm. 'Foolish, foolish, foolish...'

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Someone grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him towards the front of the room before he could turn around. He nearly stumbled on his heels, being dragged backwards so carelessly, but caught himself before that could happen. The other champions backed away, creating a center of attraction for their entertainment tonight--and they thought he would provide it. Harry glanced around calmly, green eyes taking in their excited faces.

He barely could keep from baring his teeth at them. 'I'm not a thing to poke at or play with and I'll make sure everyone here understands that.' He glanced backwards to the offending hand that had dragged him in the first place. 'You started this.'

The wizard Felix of Portugal had been the one to grab him, not that Harry had thought it to be anyone else, and he was smirking at Harry like a hungry wolf.

Harry affected a blank expression as though being dragged to the fore of an agitated teenage crowd was an ordinary experience. "I thought you'd know my name by now," he answered in sharp tones. Harry raised his head impatiently, jarring the hair from his face and unintentionally drawing attention to the strange scar on his forehead. "I heard it repeated enough times at the dinner-"

The Portuguese champion snarled, face wrinkled in rage. "It will be the last time," came the dark promise. "Your position is only an error that I will fix." He slowly straightened up again as if remembering the waiting crowd behind, and began playing to the waiting mood of the many faces. "After all, my headmaster was here tonight. I was told by him that this month's task were not really a task, but an exercise to warm us up and prepare us for the next months."

"Yours wasn't the only," someone shouted. "Mine said the same thing." And mine, a handful of other voices echoed spitefully.

Felix grinned maliciously. In the silence of the room, it seemed to Harry that all else faded away save for this single wizard. "So, did your headmaster try to boast your confidence by telling you this month's task was real?"

He made a show of looking around. "Ah, but where was your headmaster?" teased the champion boy in front of Harry. He spread his hands wide in an innocent gesture. "Did anyone see the great Albus Dumbledore here tonight? Or was he too busy doing other great tasks? All the others came, professors as well, but for Hogwarts." His last words ended quietly, a rest before he began in earnest. "Hogwarts… Despite all its reputation, the old school is hardly the best here. If anyone looked at your school, they would see its faults as obvious as cracks in stone."

Harry didn't respond. Hogwarts's dignity meant nothing to him--despite its homeliness, he'd only been in the building for a week before leaving, and felt no particular loyalty to it anymore--and Felix hadn't yet said anything to unforgivably sting Harry's temper.

'But...' He looked up knowingly, green eyes capturing the lights and sizzling them, '... it won't be long before I'll have to do something.' Harry could feel a familiar adrenaline rush buzz through him and forced himself not to react. He wanted to wait until Felix actually said something worth reacting to. He wanted to wait until he could see the apprehension on the other's face as the boy realized he'd gone too far, to see the uncertainty and hesitance as the boy wondered how Harry would react. He wanted to wait until Felix stumbled over himself in front on everyone.

A bit of movement drew his attention to the edge of the human barrier that prevented him from disappearing into the crowd. Adele looked more drunk than she had only minutes before, her eyes hardly open as she stumbled through to the front. Yet another glass tipped perilously in her hand, splashing onto another's shoes to that person's disgust. She ignored everyone to stare intently at the scene. To her side, pushing just as hard, Eachna glance at him was puzzled. Her own step, Harry noticed, was just as tipsy as Adele's; if Eachna meant to be of some help, she could at most stumble over some champions before she passed out.

Adele sighed dramatically, rolled her head back in a display of resignation. "Oh, Felix, not this again!" She took the opportunity to gulp down her drink, and a house-elf appeared nervously, prepared to catch it before she threw it somewhere. Beneath its subservient expression, the creature was beginning to look slightly irritated. Adele straightened up, nearly throwing herself to the side by doing so, and she gave her cousin a dazed glare. "How many times do you have to say this?"

"Hey, Harry!" the Irish witch called out cheerfully, catching her neighbor's shoulder before she tipped over. The champion shrugged her off irritably, but she'd already regained her balance. "Wot'cha doin' standin all up there by yerself?"

"Silent, cousin," the wizard muttered angrily before turning back to Harry. He sneered, looking as if he hoped Harry would not like to hear his next words:

"Your school and its 'traditions' are all outdated," Felix began spitefully. "They're worn out. Your headmaster is a feeble old man, a leftover from two wars whose sanity is questionable. Your professors are wizards and witches too deluded with their own beliefs, their own prejudices to truly teach the human mind."

He stopped to let out a barrel of hard laughter. "Even your classes are old-fashioned, taught in the fabled magical castle. Who still wants to be taught potions in the dungeons, divination in the tower?"

It sounded like a well-rehearsed speech, and when Harry said as much, Felix turned pale with anger. A champion or two chuckled, quieting when Felix turned his glare on the crowd. He immediately launched into another speech, this one touching upon the many failures Hogwarts experienced in the last few years, exhausting rumor and gossip to stain the old castle's proud name. In the crowd, some shifted uncomfortably but most watched to see Harry's reaction.

When Felix paused to take breath, Harry dryly replied, "You sound obsessed with this castle." Slowly, letting his eyes half-close and letting his chin rise slightly, he asked, "Is it because you're jealous, as you know you'd never be accepted in its walls?"

Harry neatly jumped back when Felix let out an unsteady swing of his fists, resulting in the Portuguese champion falling forward. The physical attack called a low buzz from the crowd and Harry glanced at them. They would cajole Felix into taking the attack into a full wizard duel, if possible.

He mentally bared his teeth at them. 'Let them,' he taunted silently, eyes flashing. 'Let them try to attack me.' Adrenaline rushed through his blood, making him feel invincible, and he barely stopped a laugh from erupting out of his throat. There was something almost irresistible in the knowledge that he could face this champion boy and win--that he could face this crowd and come out the victor.

He watched Felix right himself, the champion's face near purple with rage and hand going for his wand. With a negligent motion, Harry sent the wand a few feet out of reach, rolling just beyond the champion's wavering fingertips. Felix growled angrily, lunging for his wand only to have it roll away again on another unfelt breeze. The wooden stick calmly rolled to Harry's feet where he watched it with a faint smirk.

Felix stood on unsteady feet and glared, but Harry only picked up the dropped wand and made a point of examining it. He looked up. "Did you mean to use this?" Harry asked, giving the stolen wand an experimental wave. "And are you sure you want to?" He ended his question by pointing the wand back at its owner threateningly.

Felix grinned devilishly. "Go ahead," he taunted, standing up straight and spreading his arms wide. He started to laugh dryly. "Go ahead, little boy. Show how ignorant you are." He gave the crowd an amused expression. "He doesn't even know that you can't use another's wand-"

"Nox."

All the lights in the area went out. For a moment, there was dead calm, and then the champions started shouting and yelling, stampeding the area. Just as suddenly as the lights went out, a single beam of light started up, sprouting from Harry's borrowed wand and silencing the room.

Harry gazed around. Adrenaline was gone, replaced by a hollow and curious emptiness he felt inside himself.

He felt suddenly very weary.

'Children,' he thought with a little disgust. 'I've been reduced to playing with children--and I'm no better than they are.'

He could remember real nights of magic, nights where he could have died or killed or been captured. And now, to replace those memories, he was taunting an unblooded wizard, one who had probably been shielded during all the battles and skirmishes.

'Where's that vaunted wizard's honor, Potter,' he asked himself mockingly. 'You were actually planning on attacking him.' His parents would be unhappy to find him like this--it was a shocking thought, one that came out of nowhere, and Harry swallowed tightly. It had been so long since he'd really thought about his parents…

"You should know," he said aloud quietly, his voice was the only sound in the room, "that a wizard with enough training can use any wand he wants." The globe of light gave a little shudder, as if proving his words, and then grew bright still, floating higher until it was a bright little sun hanging over the room and lighting it all. They wouldn't forget that little demonstration.

Harry watched their reactions with none of his own, arms hanging patiently by his sides. 'Mum wouldn't have liked to see this,' he noted without emotion. 'She was so worried about all the things I wouldn't have time to learn… and now, to find out that they didn't even know that…' It was a painful thought in many ways.

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, suddenly feeling very ashamed of himself. He could have stopped the situation at any time. Instead, he'd goaded the champion on, wanting things to get out of hands, wanting an opportunity to show off and to make them afraid of him. 'It's not me,' he knew instinctively, 'but what else is there?'

Harry looked around the room to see the room looking back at him expectantly. He had every eye waiting on his next words. "What?" Harry thoughtlessly snarled at them, uncomfortably vulnerable in front of so many. He glared, sneered. "Surprised that I'm not as stupid as you thought I'd be?"

No one answered, though Felix was giving him a look and seemed to be the spokesman for the group. Harry glared more, eyes narrowing, trying his best to run away from his own discomfort. "You started this," he accused of the champion, echoing his earlier thoughts, "so why don't you finish?" Disgustedly, he threw the teen his wand back, not even looking to make sure the wooden stick was caught. Instead, he stormed off into the crowd, jaw clenching when the crowd backed off from around him.

'Show them a trick and they treat you like a god,' he thought darkly, moving for where he'd marked the exit.

"Potter!"

Harry stilled dangerously. "What?" he asked in a dangerously low voice, question directed over his shoulder at the Portuguese champion. "You're not done having fun with me? Not done trying to insult me?" He laughed dryly, eyes focused on the floor. "Enough is enough--it's not as though anything you can say will mean anything. The only thing would be a smear against my brother, champion, and I advise you to do that at your own risk."

Nothing shocked him so much as hearing Felix break out into a light laugh, to find the champion's hands on his shoulders and whirling him around. Felix didn't have his wand out; it was pocketed carelessly in a robe pocket. He wasn't glaring or snarling, wasn't preparing to have revenge. He was laughing, and Harry stiffened in surprise.

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously.

The Portuguese champion shook his head wryly. "Insult you? So soon, again? There have been enough of those for the night." He shook his head again, letting his arm drip over Harry's shoulders heavily. "According to you, I would need at least a night more to think up more witty, derogatory speeches."

Tense as he was, it wasn't hard for Harry to realize that the rest of the room was relaxing. The party was beginning again. Music slowly turned back on, along with the fans to blow out the gathered hot air, and the other champions seemed to have lost complete interest in the scrawny fifteen-year-old in their midst. Harry looked around, startled at how normal everything had become.

"I'm sorry for that, I really am," Felix was saying, speaking with extravagant hand gestures and leaning so heavily on Harry that he was actually guiding Harry through the crowds, physically pressuring him into going certain directions. For his part, Harry had no idea what was going on. "But, you understand, don't you?"

"Understand what?" Harry asked quickly, sure that nothing was making any sense.

But Eachna was coming up with a great smile, brushing Felix off like a pest into the crowd and gathering Harry's arms to tug him towards a secluded wall. "Ah knew it," she bragged to him. "Ah even told 'em what would 'appen, soes that they'd know Ah knew. But ya surprised us all, Harry!"

Harry pulled his arm back slowly, head spinning. "What's going on?" he asked again, glancing everywhere at once. They were still watching him, but with easy curiosity empty of hostility. He swallowed uneasily. "What's happened?" She laughed at him and left him there, telling him something that was too soft to hear.

Harry winced, rubbing at his forehead. Nothing was making any sense. First, he was ready to take on the crowd. Now, he was lost within them.

"What's to understand?" a deep voice murmured next to him, and a pair of glittering blue eyes matched his own, watching him curiously. It took Harry a moment to realize that it wasn't the lights playing tricks on him: the champion had bleach-white hair. The teenager sipped at his drink, gazing at Harry in semi-fascination. He shrugged. "No one knew what to think of you. Now they do."

"And how is it that they think of me now?" asked Harry, staring out into the room.

The strange champion shrugged again. "Not as a child," came the cryptic answer, "at least, not anymore. You have a chance now, I think. You didn't before. No one would allow a child to beat them."

"Then… everything… everything was set up?" The champion nodded indifferently and Harry began to feel very much used, a feeling he detested.

"How else would they know?" the champion asked philosophically. He gestured to the room. "It was insulting to be paired against so young a student. But now they--we--know better about you, Harry Potter." Those blue eyes looked and locked with Harry's own. "It was not all a game. If you had been a child, you would have lost tonight. Felix, with all his passion, would have drawn the most out of you and you would have lost. But you are not, so even he could not."

The champion gestured expansively to the room. "Now you are welcome as a champion. Do as you like with it," he said with a soft undertone of sourness. After that, the champion stood and walked away, leaving Harry alone and waiting for something. When drinks came floating by on trays, he didn't hold back from picking one up.

…

"You're drunk!" said Ginny shrilly, the very suggestion of it scandalous. Her voice echoed loudly in the night, like a twilight hunting bird. It would be dawn in only a few hours and her eyes were dry, scratchy from keeping up watch.

Harry, who'd paused in the doorway to ease his stumbling, looked up at her with equally raw eyes. "I am not," he denied calmly, taking a few dry swallows, "I didn't drink at all." He wasn't a very good liar; his forehead was covered in sweat and his eyes were completely unfocused. Ginny wasn't convinced at all, mostly because her older brothers had come home often enough for her to learn how to pick out the signs.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "I sure you look that way out of choice." He gave Harry's shoulder an unfriendly shove, sending the teen flying back against the wall and, hitting it, Harry slid down to the floor bonelessly. For a moment Ginny saw angry emotions chase across the Slytherin's face, then all was wiped clean again as he said, "I'm sure there was a good reason for you to start chumming up with the other champions. I would like to think that you've been stealing secrets, that you've used this opportunity to catalogue weaknesses-"

On the floor, Harry laughed softly. It was a cold laugh, made the worse by the face that he had his face tipped down. All Ginny could see was a faint shadowy impression of his face. Gouges of black where the eyes should be. A sharp line in place of a nose.

"You felt it," Harry wheezed softly, so quietly that Ginny almost didn't hear. "You felt it!" He slapped a hand down violently, making Ginny start. "That proves it--you liar, Malfoy. I trusted you." He began laughing again as if such a statement were amusing.

Malfoy didn't take to the sound very well, looking just about ready to start physically assailing the boy. He'd entirely forgotten about her. "Shut up, Potter. Shut up! You've been missing for half the night--Granger and her boyfriend Weasley are out looking for you right now. Tell me where you've been!"

The laughter, however, didn't stop. It only went deeper, as if Harry was retreating away and the sound was becoming fainter for it.

Ginny had frozen to watch the interchange, unable to help herself; something about Malfoy was controlling Harry, she was sure of it, and this was a rare chance to find out what. But now she shook herself awake and took a bold step forward, separating the two and gently tipping Harry's face up to the light. Just seeing his face, cleared up by torchlight fire, made her let out a soft sigh of release. It was Harry, not some strange shadow creature made of darkness. His eyes, if opened, would be a brilliant green.

To Malfoy, she sent a dark glare. "Knock it off," she ordered. "Harry's drunk. He can't even stand up--no thanks to your shoving him!"

The Slytherin sneered at her and turned sharply, going back down the hall.

"What a child," she murmured after his back, eyes narrowed spitefully and lips curled. "He can't get what he wants, so he goes and storms off to his bedroom."

The body beneath her hands shifted a little, Harry peeking his eyes open. He'd stopped laughing and was instead looking up as if there were something truly magnificent on the ceiling. But his eyes were still unfocused.

Ginny sighed again. "Come on, Harry," she encouraged, struggling to get him back to a sitting position and planning to get him to his feet from there. "We should get you to bed."

"Is Hermione really out there?" he asked suddenly, voice surprisingly clear.

Ginny gave a little jump at the sound. She looked at him suspiciously, trying to gauge his drunkenness. "Yes," came the slow answer, "and Ron. They went out looking for you awhile ago. I stayed here in case you came back, or else I'd be out there, too."

Green eyes rolled. "I suppose that's supposed to mean something to me." Before she could reply to that, Harry heavily pulled himself up to his feet, leaning onto the wall for support as he looked around the apartment. "What time is it?"

She opened her mouth to answer but he shook his head. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I don't want to know." And he stumbled over to the main room, falling gracelessly onto a couch. A moment later, heavy breathing assured her that he was sleeping where he fell.

Ginny crossed her arms, rubbing her skin to warm it up, and waited by the door for her two friends to come back. She watched him, completely confused and not sure if she should be doing anything; when Hermione quietly knocked at the door, Ginny nearly knocked her over in relief. "He's here," she informed the witch, pointing toward the couch for her brother to see. "He arrived drunk about thirty minutes ago." And she added to that Malfoy's upset behavior.

"Drunk?" Ron exclaimed, picking out the most important piece of information. He threw off his shoes and stomped over to the sleeping teen, giving Harry an incredulous stare. "How did he get drunk?"

"Um, well." Ginny shrugged. "He wasn't in any condition to tell his story. We'll have to wait 'til morning."

…

The hangover the next morning made Harry feel like his head had split in two. He groaned quietly, the world still spinning as it had the night before, making him feel like he'd fallen off a very high cliff.

"Well, good morning." Whoever it was, Harry thought with a vengeance, they were being entirely too cheerful and would have to be punished.

Squinting, he saw shades of red and orange coming in from the windows as the sun rose and felt blinded. He might have groaned again, but the next instant he'd thrown his head back down onto his pillows--alerting himself to the realization that, in fact, he was not laying in his pillows. The cushions beneath his head slapped at him unforgivingly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice counseled a moment too late to be of any real assistance. "You're laying on the couch and it won't handle you flinging yourself onto it."

Whoever it was, and Harry was beginning to think that he should know, the person chuckled and started away. Eyes tightly closed, Harry buried his head as deep as the couch would let him, letting his body collapse and relax completely. But he heard a soft conversation, parts of it at least:

"…now? What about…"

"…Ron'll take care of it… just need to go…"

"I'm trying to sleep," Harry interrupted in what he thought was a loud voice, but being stuffed against the cushions had the effect of his words being muffled, most of them only reflecting back to his ears maliciously.

The conversation paused and steps came up to his couch. Someone touched his forehead, cool hand mercifully putting out the fever of heat. "You're trying to sleep?" she repeated with a touch of humor. "Do you realize what time it is?" Harry grunted, not moving in any other way. "It's morning, Harry. You've already slept. It's time to wake up."

Which was a thing he didn't want to do. Harry smirked a little into the couch. 'Try and make me,' he mentally taunted, resolving to stay where he was all day. With how he was feeling, staying there was the only sensible move.

"You're going to have to wake up sooner or later," another voice pointed out.

Harry slowly rolled over to one side, pulling his face out and towards the room. He wasn't really listening to them; he just felt suffocated so tight up against fabric. Opening his eyes a little showed the world was starting to return to normal, though his head pounded and his brain hurt.

"Listen," he could hear quite plainly now that his head wasn't stuffed up with couch fluff, "let's just do it. If we wait much longer, he'll be out here."

"But how-"

"Drag Harry out if you need to. You can go out somewhere and I'll stall for as long as I can."

"What are you going on about?" Harry asked hazily, voice coming out as more of a low blubber than anything else. He tried to move but stopped when his head nearly came apart. It didn't help that a blanket had been tossed hazardously over him, catching his legs and body from getting up. He bit his lip, pressing his hands hard against his skull and fighting to keep another groan from getting out.

"Harry!" Three blurs appeared before him, slowly drifting into focus as Harry's headache receded to manageable pain. He blinked slowly, forcing himself to sit up and then regretting it as he swayed dangerously forward. A couple hands stopped him, pushing him back against the couch.

"Oh for heaven's sake… here you go." Instantly, Harry felt better and he stared at Hermione, who was pocketing her wand. Ginny and Ron were looking at her in surprise as well and she blushed slightly. "It's just a standard spell," she defended herself staunchly, "and it was in a book in the library. Anyone who wanted to could have found it."

"I didn't think the professors encouraged searching for hangover cures," Ron said to her with a raised eyebrow. "What were you looking at it for, anyway?"

"That's none of your concern, Ronald Weasley."

Harry was beginning to wish for the headache to come back. Then, at least, they made an effort to keep the noise down. He threw the blankets off, wrinkling his nose at seeing himself still fully dressed. His wand poked at his leg painfully from a pocket and he shrugged it out, setting it down on the table before looking up at the three faces in front of him.

They stared a him silently, and Harry could read a determination to force him to speak first. Uncomfortably, Harry finally nodded his head a little toward Hermione. "Thank you."

She beamed at him. "It was no problem, Harry. I would have used it earlier, but-"

"How're you feeling, mate?" Ron interrupted, smirking. "Looks like you had a night."

Harry rubbed at his forehead, remembering. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "And no."

"We found out," Hermione continued, a look in her eye that said she was definitely not pleased, "about the party. An Auror told us how all the champions were celebrating. By all accounts, you were probably the first one to get back to your rooms."

"If that's the case, I'm betting that we won't be seeing any of the other champions today," Ginny declared. "If they're all worse than Harry was…"

Harry let his eyes slide close again, the sounds of their voices washing over his ears without being heard. He thought about things he should be remembering, of drunkenly agreeing to attend the training sessions the champions had set up, of drunkenly being introduced to blurred faces and making a fool of himself.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" He looked up to see hopeful expressions on Ginny and Hermione's faces instantly washed off and replaced with would-be casual looks. Alarms went off. Warily, he said, "What is it?"

"Well…" Ginny bit her lip and ringed her fingers together. "It's time for breakfast-"

"That's right!" Hermione injected cheerfully.

"-and we thought that you'd be hungry by now," the younger girl finished with a smile. "Me and Hermione were just on our way out."

…

Ron was just shutting the door when he heard Malfoy moving around. Hiding a grin was harder than he'd imagined, but he did so when the Slytherin entered the large room, looking tired and irritable and definitely unaware of what was going on.

Malfoy shot a glare his way but did nothing worse, which was fine by Ron's standards. All he had to do was keep Malfoy stalled for as long as possible--Hermione had been very confident when she claimed that she only needed a little more time before Harry started relaxing.

"Morning," Ron greeted neutrally, fixing his attention to the floor. He didn't want Malfoy to notice how happy he was.

The Slytherin didn't even react. All Malfoy did was sit down, glancing back down the way he'd come.

Ron bit on his tongue, hard, to keep from smiling brightly. 'Looking for Harry?' he thought viciously at the other teenager. 'He's not here right now--want me to take a message?'

Of course, Malfoy didn't respond to that, but it seemed to Ron that the teenager was looking a little anxious. He bit down on his tongue harder.

'That's right. You know, don't you? Harry's not going to listen to you much longer, you dirty-'

"What's your problem, Weasley?" Malfoy suddenly started, nearly making Ron jump in surprise.

Ron blanched. "What… what do you mean, problem?" he asked meekly, mentally adding that it figures Malfoy could read minds.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes, leaning back into his seat dramatically. "Problem, yes. You've been staring at me for the last few minutes. I'd like to think that you're planning devious plots against my life, but given that you're a Gryffindor, you were probably only in the process of gathering pieces of your torn wits."

Ron flushed an angry red, biting on the inside of his cheek now to keep from doing anything rash. 'Hermione just needs a few more minutes--I can't lose my temper now.'

"So I take it that what I said is true?" Malfoy said with mocking seriousness. "Lost your train of thought, did you, Weasley? Need any help finding where you've put your brain?" He waved magnanimously towards the door. "I'd start over in that direction. It's undoubtedly trying to escape."

"Think you're clever, do you, Malfoy?" Ron bit out through his locked jaw.

Malfoy pretended to think a moment, then nodded gravely. "I do."

"Right?" And in that word, Ron packed all his hate and animosity for the other boy. He glared, arms crossing severely above his chest.

Malfoy laughed scornfully, shaking his head. "Weasley," he said with a hint of a smirk on his face, "you wound me."

"I'd do worse if I could," snarled Ron meaningfully, glaring still. He wished for a clock, wished to know exactly how much longer he'd have to suffer alone, and mentally cursed Hermione at the same time. 'You made it sound so easy: just keep Malfoy busy during breakfast. Make sure he doesn't suspect anything. Don't let him leave. Right. I'd like to see you deal with him.'

"I'm sure you would," the Slytherin acknowledged airily, glancing down the hall again. He arched an eyebrow as he looked back at Ron. "Don't tell me you're the only one awake?"

Ron sneered at him. "Oh no, Malfoy, everyone else is awake. They just stepped out for breakfast and left me behind." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he'd bitten his tongue off.

But Malfoy only rolled his eyes again. "Don't try to be clever, Weasley," he advised dryly. "You come off more stupid than sarcastic."

"Like I care," Ron shot back, struggling to keep the relief out of his voice. He smirked at Malfoy. 'I'm more clever than you think.'

"It's strange not to wake up with you and Granger warming the couches," observed Malfoy. He looked to be settling on to the couch for a wait, a wait that Ron hoped to make as long as possible. "At first it was unsettling to see Gryffindors so early, but I've since become comfortable with the thought."

He paused, giving Ron a curious look. "Aren't you curious," he asked, "to know what's stopped me from cursing you three each time I come down?"

"Most definitely," Ron answered, waiting a second before adding, "not."

As if he hadn't heard the complete sentence, Malfoy went on saying, "I suppose that, ever since I began thinking of you Gryffindors as my own private guard, I've been fine with having you around-"

"What?" Ron nearly shouted, sitting up straight. "We're not your bodyguards!"

Malfoy tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. "No," he admitted reluctantly, "I don't think that anymore. Now, I consider you three more as victims to slow any attacker down long enough for me to get away. After all, not even the first-year Slytherins are intimidated by you. I'd suggest a few tips, but you're so far behind that I wouldn't know where to begin."

Grinding his teeth, Ron slumped back into the chair. He was beginning to understand that as long as Malfoy was stalled, the morning was going to pass by much slower for him. But when an owl appeared to peck irritable at the windows, Ron wasn't the least bit prepared for what its message was.

He opened the window and obediently pulled the owl's parchment from its talons, careful not to scratch himself. The bird hooted once disapprovingly and took off, white wings flaying the sun's bright rays. Ron shut the window, holding the letter with a curious expression. He frowned briefly. 'Who's this from? I didn't recognize that owl…'

"Well?" Malfoy abruptly reminded Ron of his presence. Ron nearly yelped with surprise and the Slytherin rolled his eyes, donning a long-suffering expression. "It's a letter, Weasley. Traditionally, wizards use owls to send them--why don't you open it from the uncreased side?"

"Shut up," Ron replied thoughtlessly, already opening the letter and skimming its message. His face soon paled. "Great… this is just great…" Malfoy looked as though his interest was piqued, but Ron didn't really think about the boy he was supposed to be stalling. The only thought on his mind was that Hermione really, really needed to know this. "Figures. McGonagall can never just give us a break."

He rubbed at his forehead and headed towards the door, slipping his shoes on.

Malfoy stood as well, eyes narrowing slightly. "Bad news, Weasley?" he asked, arms crossing over his chest. Ron didn't answer, shrugging on his school robes, and Malfoy added, "Where are you going?"

"Hermione," Ron answered dully, glancing at the letter again. He sighed and shoved it into a pocket. "She's not going to believe this--I could have sworn that McGonagall said-"

"And isn't Granger in her room?"

Ron sent the Slytherin a hard look, pausing just as he opened the door. "Listen," he shot out nastily, "I really don't have time for this. McGonagall just sent me this-" and he violently jerked the letter from his pocket, waving it around for good measure, "-which basically says that we're going to have to give up our summer vacation to make up for our O.W.L.s! Do you know how much I was looking forward to not having to do them? I mean, telling us now is just murder! She let us believe that we'd gotten off easy!"

He threw the parchment back into his pocket, nearly punching it down in his anger, and stomped out the door. The whole way to the Great Hall was spent with him muttering darkly under his breath, cursing Transfiguration professors and standardized tests alike until he walked into the large dining area and found his three fellow students talking quietly.

Hermione and Ginny were talking, that is, and Harry looked like he was simply listening.

Ron stomped up to them and threw the letter out onto the table, not caring where it landed. It could float to the bottom of the water pitcher for all he cared, and he made sure everyone in the nearby area knew so.

"-just this morning, Hermione!" bellowed Ron, stabbing an angry finger at the offending paper. "O.W.L.s! We have to take out O.W.L.s!"

Hermione watched him with wide, surprised eyes, but when Ron stopped for breath, he realized that it wasn't him she was looking at. Ginny was looking past him as well, but she sent him a dark glare.

"What?" Ron asked in a lower, more reasonable voice. His forehead wrinkled and he motioned to the letter again. "Come on, this is serious. Hermione? Say something?"

She cleared her throat delicately and, looking behind his shoulder, calmly said, "Good morning, Malfoy. I didn't know you were up."

…

"All right," someone began, "why don't we start beginning stunning spells?"

There were many groans to that. We're all used to that, someone complained, and we need to start spells we're not good at instead of just polishing up our old skills.

Harry slipped in through the door, making sure it didn't bang shut behind him. The champions had all gathered in someone's apartment, one magically enlarged as to be classroom-sized and big enough to fit so many students trying so many spells. A few of the champions eyed him as he walked in, but did nothing else than to give him acknowledging nods or small welcoming waves.

He quickly slid into an open spot. All the teens seemed to have split into a few small, random groups with no clear distinction between them. They just seemed to mill around, moving from group to group, moving to see what the others were doing and staying when it was something interesting. He pulled out his wand, moving into the same position as the girl to his right. She gave him a quick, encouraging smile which was very unnerving after being practically persecuted before.

"Fine," the leading student of the group started again, "then what do you want to practice?"

"What kind of dark creatures are we going to be facing?" one witch asked smartly. "We should practice spells that can be used against those types of creatures."

"Hags," someone suggested. "Vampires. Werewolves. Mummies. Dementors."

Those creatures, Harry recognized, didn't require spells so much as protection when fighting against them. You wore garlic and carried a cross when you thought you'd encounter a vampire--most magic wouldn't work. Werewolves were equally resistant to spells, giving way only against silver. Besides that fact, werewolves were only dangerous one night of the month.

'Dementors, though.' Harry paused to think, trying to remember some spell he'd once learned to fight off the creatures. He couldn't, and felt of flush of irritation for the failure.

"What about acromantulas?" asked another of the witches. The questions were all coming from a specific part of the group and, leaning forward, Harry realized that his single circle was actually joined at the far end by a standing of witches. They seemed to have separated themselves from the others, five or six of them, and were nearly huddling together. Eachna was one of them, he recognized with a start.

"What about them?" a witch near Harry challenged haughtily. She had long, long hair braided down her back, but had pulled the rope over one shoulder to play at. "Do you honestly think that the Ministry will set such dangerous creatures on us?"

"Do you really think," said the girl who'd asked, "that the Ministry will poison us?"

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence after that until the leading student cleared his throat. "Right," he said brightly, "I think there's a point there. We're the best of the European schools, and we're a deal better than anywhere else in the world-"

"They haven't had to deal with war," someone muttered darkly.

"-So I don't think the Ministry will be pulling any punches." The leading champion cleared his throat again, peering around the group. "We might as well pull out our creature encyclopedias and just start from the beginning. A lot of creatures can be dealt with the same way, so it won't be a complete waste of time, and this way we cover all eventualities."

"It will be a complete waste of time," the witch near Harry muttered lowly.

Harry stared forward, wondering if the champions were always like this. He expected uniform friendship, a completeness to the group, not petty divisions. He glanced at the witch, curious, and found himself asking, "Why?"

She gave him a hard look. "Why what?"

"Why will it be a waste of time?" Harry noticed that some of the closer champions were looking at him as well, and he fought against an embarrassed flush to add, "The vampires, hags, werewolves--they're not really dark creatures. They're more like a different species." He shrugged, trying to fake casualness. "They said we're going against creatures, and even the Ministries have recognized that thinking humanoids aren't simply animals."

'It had taken them a long time to do so,' he knew with a touch of bitterness, 'and they're still not anywhere close to being on equal terms.' He could remember hiding out on the full moon just to catch of glimpse of Remus's werewolf form, reminding himself of his father's animagi adventures.

"But, acromantulas?" The witch wrinkled her nose. "What's so hard about defeating them?"

Harry shrugged again, not quite meeting her eyes. The answer was obvious to him, but she was sounding a little testy. It wouldn't do to make her look like an idiot. It also wasn't completely possible.

"Who's to say?" someone else answered airily. It was a teenage boy with short blond hair, staring right at Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably; it felt like his thoughts were being read, and easily done so. The teenager let a slightly-mocking smile appear faintly on his face. "Acromantulas might not be so scary, but the Ministry will take steps to fix that. Imagine facing the spider twice its normal size, impervious to spells, and fast as a cheetah."

His words met a shocked silence. The entire group had, at some point, crowded together into a tighter circle, leaving the other separate groups to wonder what they were talking about.

One blonde witch cautiously asked, "You don't think they'll do that, do you?"

The teenager shrugged carelessly. "Who knows."

"I don't think so," Harry declared with quiet firmness, giving the witch a steady look. "I think that they'll simply find us more dangerous creatures, not invent some on the spot. But… it's something to keep in mind."

"Right," said the witch who'd started the whole discussion. She pushed her long braid over to her back and clapped her hands together determinedly. Her eyes glanced around and came back, a little annoyed. "Well? Where's that encyclopedia?"

"Here," a wizard answered, and Harry was startled to come face-to-face with the white-haired champion from the night before. The champion didn't look twice at Harry, though, only handing up a book that hadn't been there a minute before to the leading student.

"Ah," the leading student said to the braided witch with false seriousness, "so you agree with the rest of us, now?"

The girl with the braid shrugged with a disdainful expression on her face. "I was convinced, yes, but that doesn't mean I can't be unconvinced." She twirled her wand in her fingers, traces of boredom beginning to settle in her face. After only a few more moments, she simply walked off, joining another group.

As Harry watched her go, the white-haired, blue-eyed champion quietly moved to stand next to him. "Don't worry about her. She'll be back once she realizes that our group is the only one getting prepared."

"Our group?" Harry repeated, turning to stare at the other boy.

He nodded slowly. "We've formed one--fewer of the others are coming, fewer of ours are leaving. It will be a shaky alliance, but it will be one."

Harry gave him a confused look. "I'm not sure I understand," he confessed politely. "This isn't a group competition-"

"No, but you didn't think you could win this competition on your own, did you?"

Harry's mouth dried up at the echo of Hermione's words, and he barely kept from blanching.

The blue-eyed champion continued softly, "We'll work together to make sure the ones not in our group don't win--to make sure there isn't so much competition and to better know the ones who remain. Then, as in any race, we'll each sprint at the end, only the best remaining and each trying their hardest to win. But only at the end."

Harry looked at the group gathered around him, at the other champions that had settled into the area. Eachna and her group of witches seemed to have moved off, joining with another small group--there were, Harry counted, five of the groups all together.

"If that's true," he started lowly, "then why be in any group? At the end, it won't matter-"

"No, it won't," the champion agreed firmly, "but then again, all that matters is that you get to the end."

"All right, then," the leading student began loudly, calling the group's attention and effectively ending the dozens of quiet conversations that had gone on. He smiled brightly. "So, I guess this is it. How many do we have?"

"There are ten of us," one witch supplied. She had an anxious expression on her face, which only emphasized her gray eyes against her red hair. In an almost frightened voice, she added, "We're the second-largest group!"

The leader shrugged expansively, his pale face unworried. "It only means that we have that much better a chance to win." He looked around again. "Why don't we begin?" He opened the encyclopedia, and they began.

…

It was the middle of October by the time everything had been prepared, and Leo was more than ready to simply take things into his own hands, to just leave and get things done the way he'd planned. After all, it had been weeks since permission had been granted--he wasn't used to waiting so long.

With the same nervous energy of a pent-up feline, Leo paced in front of the door. His short legs only carried him so fast, but he made up for it with the sheer irritation evident in his features. Pausing, Leo held himself in front of the door and slowly began to open it, letting out a crack of hot air to stir up his hair. There was the smell of hundreds of bodies locked up in the same room for him to contend with, the sounds of dozens of little, whispered conversations beneath the loud booming of a fanatic wizard at the other end of the hall. No one noticed his intrusion; most of the attention was locked on that single announcing wizard, on the announcement of the nearing beginning for the monthly task. Everyone knew what it was by now--even Leo had been told that the champions were going to be given creatures to tame. The wizard was simply announcing that the task would start this week. He shouldn't be taking so long.

Even if they did notice, Leo only held the door open a moment before letting it quietly bang shut.

"This is taking forever," groaned the little wizard, letting his head swivel back impatiently.

His bodyguards chuckled to themselves and Leo allowed one of them to gently pull him away from the door and his pacing, over a few feet to where the majority of Aurors were waiting patiently for their turn to enter the dining hall. Most were involved in card games, huddled together to keep the light breeze from disturbing their play.

They looked up as one to his approach and grinned, motioning for him to join them, but Leo only grumpily stalked off to the far edge of the group. The Auror standing there, watching the grounds, was one of the team permanently assigned to Leo's protection and had known him since he was just a baby.

The Auror smiled faintly down at the boy. "Bored?" asked the wizard teasingly.

Leo sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest. "They're still talking in there," he complained.

His friend shook his head. "I told you. They'll be awhile, no matter who's waiting out on them."

"Can't someone make them go faster?"

"Yes." The Auror looked faintly amused. "You only have to go in and they'll be done."

"I don't want to do that." He looked abashed. "I don't want to interrupt them. I just want my turn to start already." In truth, Leo wanted nothing more than to march inside and demand that his turn for being announced come. No one inside knew that Leonard Potter had come to visit his brother. All arrangements had been in absolute secrecy, despite Leo's wish that everyone know. He didn't see why he had to sneak around to visit Harry--even Sirius's explanation that, if anyone else knew, the school would be overrun by well-wishers, was almost not enough.

But, as much as he wanted the festivities to begin, he couldn't just march in like the Auror suggested. Everything had been planned down to the last minute. If he went in early, then the party would be ruined. Everything was hinging on the fact that, as soon as the wizards inside were done, they'd give the signal drop the anti-apparation barriers, and as soon as that was done dozens of waiting wizards and witches would pop in with the decorations, food, and lights. If he went in early, he'd ruined the elaborate surprise.

Still… Leo crossed his arms tighter, frowning deeper. "What more do they have to talk about?" he asked sourly. "I only listened for awhile and all they're doing is repeating themselves."

The Auror laughed, ruffling Leo's hair in a familiar expression of affection. "It's the way the ministry works," he informed Leo with a sly look and a wink. "They talk until they're blue in the face, saying the same thing over and over again, just so that they can get away without doing any actual work. Anything they really have to do, they just assign to people below them."

Leo's attention faded to watching the other wizards playing their game and he was almost tempted to join them. But only a few weeks ago, the Prophet had published a small article about Leo considering his bodyguards as family. Most of the replies had been as usual, gushing letters full of love and praise; but one of them had really stuck him badly. It had been nothing other than a mocking letter, scorning Leo for "fraternizing with the help." Since then, he'd done his best to keep a respectful distance with all the Aurors except for his small group of life-timers.

"Why don't you go walk in the gardens?" suggested the Auror calmly, motioning to said nearby woods. "I've heard them brag about the live statues in there and the tall trees."

Leo made a face. "Who cares about trees?" he asked. "They only get taller and taller. And I don't think statues in a garden could be better than the ones on display in the museum."

The older wizard laughed and conceded the point.

They were both still looking towards the gardens when the headmistress briskly walked out of them, returning to the school after having secured the arrangements about the lifting of the school barriers. It was the first time Leo had seen her. It was also the first time he'd ever seen such a large person.

Without shame, he stared at her, mouth open and eyes wide, tracking her progress as she came closer and finally passed them, doing her best to squeeze through a small opening in the doors and enter the dining hall.

She had been huge! Enormous! Larger than any person had the right to be, and she left Leo with boggled eyes. As soon as she'd gone inside the hall, Leo tugged on his guard's robes, and quietly whispered, "How did she so big?" His forehead was wrinkled with bewilderment. "I didn't think anyone could be so huge!"

Chuckling, the wizard explained, "Headmistress Maxine has some interesting history. We're certain that she's half-giant, but she'll never confess to it."

Shocked, Leo repeated, "Half-giant? But I thought-"

"She's ashamed to admit it so it's likely she wishes it wasn't true. The giants are evil monsters, you know, but she's set up a good school here and she's turned her back on her heritage." The Auror gave him a meaningful look. "She can't help who her parents were--she probably hates them for what they made--but she's doing the best she can to make sure her students know that she's not fond of half-breeds. The Beauxbatons magical creature program is one of the best on the continent--most informative."

He quivered, mind filled with Sirius's tales of giants that tore up hills and threw them like marbles, giants that gobbled up handfuls of people with a single swallow. "I can trust her, then?" asked Leo hesitantly, feeling that this most certainly wasn't the case.

The Auror gave the doors that the headmistress had disappeared through a look-over. "We'll be watching her."

"Master Leonard," a witch began formally, having come up to the pair while neither had noticed. At least, Leo hadn't noticed her. The Auror beside him undoubtedly had. She held her head back proudly and her lips pressed together when she wasn't speaking, but the nervousness in her face and the way her eyes darted about were very familiar signs of awe.

He liked her.

She was probably a professor, which meant that the speeches were almost done. She would have been sent out here to make sure he was ready to enter as soon as the party began.

Leo smiled politely back to her, head tipping forward the slightest, and the Auror next to him put an approving hand on his shoulder. The Aurors closest to him had started lessons in formality, saying that any from a house as ancient as the Potters needed to learn how to handle people. Never too stiff, never too familiar.

"We 'r' proud to welcome you to Beauxbatons." Her hands spread out elegantly, encompassing the entire area and causing the dozens of jewels hanging from her silk dress to jingle expensively. "May this be a zecond 'ome to you."

Relaxing a little, Leo answered, "I'm sure it will."

"We are setting an extra squad of Aurors along the school," his guard informed the professor bluntly, "and these are specially trained units. The old squad is being rotated back to London. Hopefully, there won't be any mishaps, especially while Leonard is visiting and even after."

"If there is," she replied coolly, "then it iz not the fault of Beauxbatons nor the fault of France. We did not provide those Aurors."

"England will take care of what happened, and will take care it does not happen again."

Sensing the temperature falling between the two adults, Leo interrupted their conversation with a smile. "It's almost time?" he asked lightly, putting up an image of childish enthusiasm. She told him it was, and Leo asked where he should look for his brother.

Harry's name brought a chuckle from the woman, and she rolled her eyes as she said, "'Arry Potter usually refuses to eat with za rest of uz." She rolled her wrist dismissively. "I do not think last month's task made 'im too 'appy."

"Poisoning does that to a person," Leo came back cheekily, his grin chipped and his eyes a little narrowed. His Auror guard tensed visibly and Leo quickly cooled the situation. "But is he eating here tonight?"

The professor nodded reluctantly. "He and ze others from 'Ogwarts sit very close to ze door. You will 'ave no trouble, Master Leonard, in seeing him as soon as you walk in." She glanced towards the dining hall as if mentally timing herself, probably keeping a countdown until the anti-apparation barriers were dropped and judging that she still had a few more minutes because she turned back to him with a gracious smile on her face. "I 'ope you will 'ave a good time 'ere, Master Leonard, and I know you will be honored during your stay."

Leo glanced around, feeling a thrill of anticipation running through him. He would be seeing Harry again after two months apart, and he would bring a party large enough to go down in the school's history. As if sharing his thrill, the gaming Aurors had put everything away and were stalking around excitedly, whispering hurriedly to each other. One approached Leo, but stopped at the professor with a look on his face.

"I've heard that you've set aside special rooms for Leonard to use," the new Auror stated, startling the French professor. "Mind telling us where it is? We'd like to have it checked first."

At the first sentence, she looked willingly enough to lead them herself, but his last words caused her to flush white. She huffed indignantly. "What 're you saying?" she demanded, face stormy. "We 'r not tryin' to 'urt Leonard Potter. We would not allow anything to 'appen to 'im while 'e iz 'ere at Beauxbatons!"

While the two got caught up in another argument, her spitting out words half in French, half in English, and him coming up with Ministry-backed threats, Leo casually waited beside the door. It was almost time. It was almost time. The thought ran through his head over and over again.

The other Aurors who had been on watch started coming back from their hidden places between shadows, all of them part of the special guard and all of them grinning broadly as they passed him. One asked if he was excited and laughed at Leo's answering smile.

It wasn't much longer before the wizards inside were finished. Leo was set next to the door, peering through an opened crack as before and waiting for the last words to be said. He scanned the nearby area, looking for his brother, and froze when he saw the dark-headed teen surrounded by a small group. They were obviously separated from everyone else, at the far end of a far table and closed away by a half-dozen empty seats.

'Malfoys and Weasleys,' Leo identified automatically, a little stunned. The two families, as he understood, weren't friends by a long shot. 'Why's Harry hanging around with a Malfoy? That other girl, who is she? I don't recognize her.'

A hand tapped his shoulder. "It's time," his Auror friend whispered in his ear, at the same time the announcing wizard ended his last words. The dining hall gave a little shudder, the result of so many barriers being lifted, and there were so many apparation pops that it sounded like fireworks going off above the tables.

"Leonard Potter!" someone announced madly, and Leo walked inside, grinning at the sight of his brother whirling around and nearly falling to the ground as much as at the sight of the other hundreds of eyes doing the same thing. And the party began.

...

Author's Notes posted at the yahoo group, The Blue Hour, linked on my bio page.