Chapter 3 – Meetings

While a Wizengamot session would not normally be broadcast out to the general public, in this instance Fudge, seemingly confident of his case and wanting to make certain the entire population witnessed the downfall of the great Harry Potter, had ordered the proceedings open to all. Now, with his arguments in ruins and the young man exonerated, his hasty and overconfident decision appeared to have backfired, almost ensuring his popularity, which was always an iffy thing at best, would take a huge hit. How much of a hit—and whether it would ultimately cost him his job—remained to be seen.

While most of the country paid at least some attention to the proceedings (Harry Potter was, after all, big news in the British wizarding world), nowhere was the broadcast so intently dissected as in the house at Grimmauld Place. The affection and friendship for the young man felt by most in that house, ensured the general anxiety level would be high, regardless of the outwardly confident statements of the various occupants that Dumbledore would never allow Harry to be expelled. And while they had all voiced the same platitudes at some point in time, each had his or her own doubts of the eventual outcome of the trial and the fate of the young man who had become important to each and every one of them. Every phase of the trial was carefully listened to and agonized over, and while there were enough twists and turns in the proceedings to do a murder novel proud, when the verdict was known and the charges were dropped by the Minister, a general feeling of relief over Harry's exoneration was felt through out the house.

But beyond the relief and the satisfaction for the way Jean-Sebastian had insisted on the public apology, the reaction to the news of Harry's betrothal to the beautiful French witch was about as varied as there were people in the room.

Remus, ever the Marauder and aware of the great prank which had just been perpetrated on the Minister, was silently cheering his friend on, thankful that Sirius had done something to assist his godson rather than mope around Grimmauld. He was also happy Sirius would finally receive the treatment he needed and the exoneration he deserved—Remus, to be truthful, still harbored feelings of guilt for believing Sirius capable of the betrayal for which he had spent so many years of his life locked away.

Tonks, who had met Harry barely a week before and already considered him to be an honorary little brother, was contemplating the great opportunity to tease her shy friend about his engagement to the beautiful French girl. But beyond that, she was contemplating how she could help the young man further in his development and struggle against the dark lord, who seemed to have targeted the young man. She was an Auror—and though quite new to her position, she still felt she could be of some use to the young man by teaching him what she knew. The ability to fight would only help him in the coming struggle, and he was, after all, of an age and maturity where he could now be taught some of the more complicated spells which would eventually serve him.

Fred and George were merely happy for their friend, sharing a knowing glance—as only twins as close as they were could—that such an unusual happening was undoubtedly normal for Harry's decidedly odd world.

And Bill Weasley, though he really did not know Harry well at all, was happy the likeable young man had received the justice he was due. Beyond that, he was nevertheless arrested by an indefinable sense of loss—he had seen the young French witch at the tournament the previous June and been instantly smitten by her. And now she was out of reach.

Ginny was the most vocal in her response—although this was perhaps not surprising to those around her—as she gasped loudly and then started wailing, throwing her arms around her mother and sobbing bitterly about the unfairness of the world.

While she was comforting her daughter, Molly Weasley, although not as noticeably upset with the development, was at least as angry—she had always held out hope that Harry would take a fancy to her youngest child and join their family through marriage. That she had encouraged her young daughter from the earliest time of Ginny's memory—and thereby in part helped cause the infatuation which now led to her daughter's distress—was something she did not even consider. Molly had known Harry's parents when they were young, and after she had finally produced a daughter a little more than a year after Harry's birth, she had immediately gotten the idea that her little Ginevra would be the perfect mate for the young Potter heir. Those plans were, of course, now completely in ruins.

For Ron Weasley, the reaction was a little more complex than most, partially due to his close association with Harry and all that had passed between them, especially in the last year, and partially due to his feelings for a certain brown-haired witch.

Simply put, Ron had self-esteem issues, although he had certainly never considered it in such a way himself. The youngest of six boys, he always felt as though he was struggling to keep up with the legacy of five successful and popular brothers, not to mention a younger sister who was the darling of the family due to her being the first daughter born to the Weasley line in several generations. Add to that the fact that he had made, quite by accident, a close friend in Harry Potter, the most famous person of his generation, and it was quite easy to see why Ron sometimes felt a little lost in the shuffle.

It was the issue of Harry's fame which had partially been behind their problems during the tournament. It was not like Ron truly believed Harry had cheated his way into the tournament or that he was seeking more fame. Or at least that is what he came to understand in hindsight, once the realization of the true reason Harry had been entered into the tournament had set in. After all, his close association with his friend dictated that Ron, more than anyone else except perhaps Hermione, knew how much Harry hated his fame. But when Harry's name came out of that goblet, to Ron it was yet another instance of Harry getting all the glory. It did not matter whether he wanted it. Ron craved a little more recognition for himself, though certainly not the fame and adulation Harry routinely received, which he understood would be exasperating. No, what Ron had in mind was to receive just enough so he could finally be known as Ron Weasley… rather than "best friend to the Boy-Who-Lived" or "the youngest Weasley boy".

Of course, now he bitterly regretted his hasty and unthinking declaration the previous Halloween night. In true Harry fashion, once Ron had made the first move, Harry had offered his forgiveness without a single bat of an eye—Harry had the biggest heart Ron had ever seen, especially when one considered his upbringing. In anyone else, the effect of his neglectful guardians would have produced quite the opposite kind of person, Ron was certain. But despite Harry's forgiveness and acceptance of Ron's apology, it had introduced a distance between the two, a distance which had never been there before… and which Ron was uncertain how to bridge.

But even more than the distance between Ron and his best friend, Ron regretted the fact that his behavior had essentially pushed Hermione away from him. Of course Hermione had supported and believed Harry—Ron should have known she would. Hermione had grown up as much of an outsider as Harry—there was no way she would have given up such a friendship without some catastrophic event to completely destroy it. And this did not even take into account the closeness she had always shared with Harry, a closeness which Ron suspected surpassed even that between Ron and Harry.

And while Harry was his best friend, he wanted Hermione to be more—so much more. Of course, his friendship with Hermione remained the same as ever; as always, they mixed equal parts hanging out and sticking up for one another with an equal part of fighting with one another.

However, Ron had been making an attempt to argue less with her while trying to appear more in tune with her personality—almost like he was wooing her without making any overt moves. It had been difficult—after all, the things in which she was most interested, books and studying, did not really mesh well with his love of Quidditch and chess. Regardless of their different personalities, Hermione was turning into an attractive young woman, one who he would love to know on a more personal, intimate basis. If only it was not for Harry.

But then that was not fair either—Harry was the linchpin that kept them together, after all, and Ron was aware that Hermione would likely never have been more than just another annoying girl in his year without Harry.

But without Harry, there would also be no competition for her affections—of that he was certain.

Some people considered Ron slightly slow and thick when it came to those around him, and objectively, Ron knew he tended to be single-minded and to miss things that others would pick up on. But Ron was anything but stupid, and he was far above average in some areas. He had made an attempt to be more observant around his friends this summer, particularly watching for any hint of affection beyond that of mere friendship between his closest friends.

And what he had seen between them had not encouraged him at all—without seeming to be aware of it, they were close, far too close for Ron's comfort. Their eyes lingered on one another a little too long, they touched more than was necessary—nothing more as of yet than a comforting hand on the shoulder or the tips of their fingers on an arm to emphasize a point—and they truly seemed in sync with one another. It all would have appeared platonic and completely innocent to the disinterested observer, yet to the newly observant Ron their actions had spoken loudly and uncomfortably for his ambitions.

The major problem, to Ron's point of view, was the fact that if it came down to a choice between him and Harry, Ron was almost certain what Hermione's choice would be—and it would not be in his favor. Consciously or unconsciously, Hermione would always put Harry first, and if Harry were to express any interest at all in Hermione, Ron knew her choice would be made without even thinking about it. There would be nothing he could do to alter her preference.

But then this morning's events had completely thrown everything for a loop, but amazingly enough, it had worked to Ron's advantage. Being betrothed to another, Harry could hardly be any competition to Ron's pursuit of Hermione any longer, a fact which had Ron elated. It seemed fate had intervened in his favor for once.

But then the other side of Ron, the jealous prat who had reared his ugly head the previous year in the tournament, was slightly put off that Harry had once again, through no effort of his own, seemed to fall into a good situation. He had become engaged in an instant to a young woman who was possibly the most beautiful Ron had ever laid eyes on. How in Merlin's name did Harry get so lucky?

Shaking his head, Ron turned his thoughts away from his musings and peered surreptitiously at the young woman he hoped would become much more in his life than a mere friend. Hermione sat quietly staring intently at something only she could see, appearing as conflicted as he felt. She seemed somewhat disappointed to Ron's point of view, no doubt unhappy Harry was now off the market.

Still, that again could work to Ron's advantage. Perhaps he could be there for her—provide a sympathetic ear to listen to her troubles.

That was it, Ron decided. He would forget about Harry's good fortune and concentrate on his own. He would win Hermione's heart!

The subject of Ron's musings was engulfed in thoughts of her own.

Harry was free. He would not be taken from her—he would return to Hogwarts with her this year, and everything would be unchanged from what it was before.

But Hermione knew it was not the truth—everything had changed. Certainly Harry would continue to be her best friend and confidante; they would continue to do everything together, she would still see him every day.

But it would all be different, too. The new Harry would be promised in marriage to another, and eventually he would owe his allegiance to someone else. She would stop being the most important female in his life.

Hermione knew she should be happy for Harry—happy he had managed to avoid the fate for which Fudge had been pressing; happy he would continue to be a factor in her life.

But a part of her—a small, indefinable part which she could not shake—felt nothing but sorrow over the news of his betrothal to the beautiful French witch. How could she possibly compete with someone like Fleur Delacour? Of course, there was no competition. He was now engaged; it was done. Nothing she could do would change that fact. She would never be anything more to him than a best friend, and even that would slip away as they matured.

How could this have happened? How had she developed these feelings for her best friend without even realizing it? How had it managed to slip past her over-organized mind, one which was usually so adept at catching every little thing? What was she to do now?

Automatically, she glanced over at her other friend, Ron Weasley, who appeared to be lost in a world of his own. Hermione was not unaware of Ron's feelings for her. He was not the type to hide his emotions; they were usually plain for anyone to see, and Hermione was nothing if not observant. Although she had not been aware of it, her attention had largely been on Harry since he had arrived at Grimmauld Place, and she knew that attention had in turn garnered the attention of her other best friend.

What Hermione did not know was whether she could return Ron's feelings.

Ron was a good friend and while he did occasionally descend into jealous fits and he argued with her incessantly, he was also fiercely protective of her. Hermione had always known there was an even chance she would end up with one of her two best friends, but until now, she had always assumed it would be Harry rather than Ron. She and Harry made a much better match than she and Ron. For one thing, they did not always argue, and while her tendency to boss and nag did annoy him as much as it did Ron (in her own defense, she was learning to curb that particular facet of her personality), she knew her drive and determination helped his sometimes lackadaisical manner, whereas his boundless courage and ability to have fun helped balance her own tendency toward overwork and occasional timidity. She seriously doubted she could have had the courage to punch Malfoy in the third year without Harry's influence.

What did she have in common with Ron? Nothing sprang to mind, but what she did remember were their frequent arguments and Ron's tendency to belittle her achievements and anything with which she found enjoyment.

Still, it was apparent that if she was to end up with one of her best friends, it would be Ron, as Harry was now unavailable. It was a difficult admission to make, but she knew for the good of them both she had no choice but to suppress the feelings she had always harbored for Harry.

But could she transfer those feelings to Ron?

Leaving Harry outside in the waiting room, Jean-Sebastian entered the minister's office, finding the Headmaster and Minister waiting for him, one with a welcoming smile and the other with an exaggerated mask of patience engraved upon his face. Jean-Sebastian barely held back from rolling his eyes at the man—his attitude was only to be expected from such a cowardly excuse for a minister. Hopefully, this meeting would take him down another peg or two.

The office was large and lavishly furnished and decorated. The furniture was of the finest dragonhide, the walls were dotted with paintings, and every nook and cranny was filled with objects and artwork, stowed here and there with little apparent thought to organization or style. It was obviously the office of a man who loved his comforts, and it appeared to be calculated to remind the visitor that the office was occupied and that the occupant was here to stay for the foreseeable future. Taste was certainly not a consideration, if the sometimes gaudy and overdone ornaments were any indication, and there was no thought given to the arrangement or display, except to bludgeon the viewer over the head with the wealth of its owner.

The man needs the services of an expert in interior design, Jean-Sebastian thought with some sardonic amusement. With any luck, he would not occupy the office much longer.

He appeared to have interrupted a conversation between them—one, unless Jean-Sebastian missed his guess, which included a healthy dose of complaints from the Minister. The comments from the Headmaster's side had likely been vaguely placatory but entirely noncommittal. The subject of those complaints, of course, was obvious.

"Have a seat, ambassador," Dumbledore said, waving his hand at one of the chairs.

The Minister glared at the Headmaster, presumably unhappy over Dumbledore's liberality with his office, but he said little, merely echoing the sentiments in a barely civil tone.

Laughing lightly to himself, Jean-Sebastian sat in the indicated chair and gazed at the Minister, wondering what the man's reaction would be to his little announcement. Nothing good, unless he missed his guess.

After a moment of silence, Fudge sighed in an embellished manner and fixed Jean-Sebastian with a glare.

"I'm told by Dumbledore that you requested this meeting, ambassador," he ground out. "If you have something to say, please say it. I am a busy man."

Jean-Sebastian bowed his head, forcing the urge to laugh at the man's pomposity to remain unexpressed. "Indeed, I have, Minister. I have a few reasons for being here now. Foremost is to ensure the things we discussed in the Wizengamot chambers would be implemented without delay."

Fudge fixed him with an unfriendly eye. "Ambassador, I will not lie to you—I am extremely displeased with the outcome of the trial. Your ward has been a thorn in the side of this Ministry since he began attending Hogwarts, and I am not happy with the favoritism he has been receiving and the way we have bent over backward to accommodate a young boy whose only claim to fame was an accident which occurred when he was merely a baby."

"Favoritism? You mean a trumped up trial designed to promote character assassination and a basic denial of rights? Is the favoritism to which you refer?" Jean-Sebastian intervened quietly, his voice deadly serious and unfriendly.

Pausing at the venom in Jean-Sebastian's voice, Fudge nevertheless chose to ignore his words and continued on as though he had not spoken. "Regardless of my personal feelings regarding the matter, I assure you that everything we have committed to will be done. You will have your apology in the Prophet tomorrow—the responsibility has already been delegated to the appropriate individual, and the Prophet reporter is already on his way to the Ministry. As for Mr. Black, he will be given a trial as soon as can be arranged."

Although Jean-Sebastian noted that Fudge had omitted the promise to investigate the matter of Voldemort's return, he knew he would get no more out of the man given his state of mind. The Dark Lord would have to be a discussion for another time—he had another purpose for this meeting today.

The matter of Sirius was really one which did not affect Fudge personally, as the travesty had occurred before Fudge's tenure had begun. Jean-Sebastian knew Fudge could afford to be magnanimous in that matter. Jean-Sebastian decided it was best to appear grateful for the assurances in the matter of Sirius Black—it could serve him well in the upcoming conversations which would not be quite so palatable to the English Minister.

"That is acceptable, Minister. Please keep me up to date on the status of your investigations and provide the date and time for Mr. Black to return to England. I will be certain to get him here at the appointed time."

"Very well, ambassador," Fudge replied with a wave of his hand. "Now, if there is nothing else…?"

"Actually, Minister, I do have another piece of business."

Jean-Sebastian could read the annoyance, tinged with the slightest hint of apprehension in Fudge's eyes—so far, Jean-Sebastian's announcements of business had been extraordinarily bad for the Minister.

"Really, ambassador," he responded in a chiding tone of voice, "I would think you had put forth enough business today to last a lifetime. Surely this can wait for another day."

"I'm afraid not, Minister. I bring you the greetings of the French Ministry today and a piece of news which will be of interest to you and will affect British/French relations."

"Very well," Fudge responded. He comported himself in a nonchalant manner, but his eyes were as hard as agates. "Please continue, although I am not certain what the French Ministry could say which would not involve their ambassador to England. Is Ambassador Tremblay out of the country right now?"

"Indeed, he is, Minister," Jean-Sebastian replied, watching Fudge closely. "In fact, my business here today is to inform you that Monsieur Tremblay has accepted another post within the French Ministry. Due to this shuffle and to my qualifications and unique requirements with respect to young Harry and his continued attendance at Hogwarts, I have accepted the posting of Ambassador to England, effective immediately. The move will be officially announced to your government tomorrow."

Displeasure and anger immediately darkened Fudge's face as he glared back across the desk, causing Jean-Sebastian to reflect that the Minister should have seen this coming. After all, given the events of the morning and Jean-Sebastian's unique qualifications for the post, the Minister had to know Jean-Sebastian did not trust him and wanted to keep a closer eye on Harry and his interactions with anyone of authority in magical Britain. And although Fudge could not have known it of Jean-Sebastian, he was not the type of parent who was comfortable with sending his children off to another country for their schooling—he preferred a much closer arrangement; even if it was to a boarding school, he still wanted to reside in the same country. Unfortunately—or fortunately as the case may be—Fudge did not appear to have thought that far ahead.

"I'm not certain I can agree to this appointment, ambassador," Fudge responded finally. "The English Ministry does not particularly appreciate your heavy-handed style, and I am certain your appointment would harm relations between our two countries."

Jean-Sebastian laughed out loud at this pronouncement, causing Fudge's countenance to darken even further. "On the contrary, Minister, I enjoy an excellent relationship with the Chief Warlock of your Wizengamot," he nodded at Dumbledore, who returned the gesture with aplomb, "due in part to our previous association with the ICW. I'm familiar with most of your department heads and understand your traditions and customs, having lived here some years in my youth, and I am familiar with the operation of your Ministry due to various postings and experience working with your government over the years. It seems to me I am a very good candidate for the position, Minister. It is only you who seems to have a problem with me."

"And it is my government!" Fudge snapped. "You will have to go back to your Ministry and tell them to send someone else."

"Your government?" Jean-Sebastian responded with a snort of disdain. "Surely you do not consider yourself to be the government, Minister? The Minister is merely a servant of the people, is he not?"

Fudge's eyes narrowed, and his lips curled with dislike. "You can be certain I will be speaking with your Minister about this."

A slight incline of his head indicated his feelings of complete unconcern. He then infuriated Fudge even further by glancing down and making a show of inspecting his fingernails, indicating his utter contempt for the British Minister. "Be my guest, Minister. My appointment was initiated by the French Ministry with the full support of our legislative branch, so I can assure you he will confirm everything I have told you. At the end of the day, unless you have some legal reason to deny me this posting, my government can appoint anyone they like to the post, with or without your approval."

A curt nod was the only thing which met Jean-Sebastian's declaration—Fudge obviously knew he was once again painted into a corner.

"My house-elves will begin to move my family's personal belongings into the Ambassador's Manor immediately. I will be at your service by Monday morning."

The nod was repeated, and although it was obvious Fudge was not happy with the development, he at least gathered enough dignity to avoid a repeat of his objections. Not that it would do him any good.

"Which brings me to my next point," Jean-Sebastian continued, turning to Dumbledore. "As my family will be living in England now, I would prefer to have all the children in my care attending the same school. As such, I will request to transfer Fleur to Hogwarts for her final year of schooling."

"Of course, ambassador," Dumbledore replied, even as the vein in Fudge's temple began to pulse. "Please have Madame Maxine provide you with a copy of Fleur's transcripts. I will instruct my deputy Headmistress to send an owl with her letter to you within the next few days. We would be happy to have the Beauxbatons champion attend our school this year."

Although he was conversing with Dumbledore, Jean-Sebastian kept an eye on Fudge, watching the man's displeasure deepen as the expression of fury stole over his face. He was intelligent enough to hold his tongue this time, but it did not take a genius to understand just exactly what Fudge objected to about Fleur's attendance at England's premier school. It was time to inform the Minister of exactly how things stood.

Jean-Sebastian allowed an expression of intense dislike and distaste to spread over his face as he glared at the Minister, noting the corresponding expression directed back at him. He smirked inwardly, perversely entertained at his ability to provoke a negative response in the pompous git.

"Minister, allow me to make myself rightly understood. Harry Potter is now my ward, and he and my daughter Fleur will be attending Hogwarts together this year. The ICW has voted overwhelmingly to support Harry—and his godfather, I might add—and any attempt from you or your government to undermine him or make trouble with me or my family will lead to increased tensions with France and isolation from the rest of the wizarding world. I suggest you tread softly…

"Or perhaps it's my daughter who has set off this latest fit of temper?"

"Your daughter has no business attending Hogwarts," the Minister blustered. "Our premier school is reserved for our best and brightest students, not for some… foreign—"

"I suggest you stop right there," Jean-Sebastian interrupted, his voice as cold as ice. "Do not think me ignorant of your petty British bigotry and your contempt for anyone who does not meet your pathetic standards of race and blood purity—your attempts to hide your objections behind the veneer of foreign discrimination are insulting and do not do you any favors. The fact that many of your compatriots meet your exceedingly high standards for blood purity, bigotry, and contemptible snobbishness means nothing to me—or any other right-thinking person for that matter.

"Fleur is a highly skilled and competent witch, and regardless of your narrow-mindedness, she is every bit as human as you or I. She is a champion of that cursed tournament you held in this very country for Merlin's sake!"

"And we all know how she did there!" Fudge snapped, his mouth twisted into an unpleasant sneer.

"Better, I suspect, than a squib like you would," Jean-Sebastian spat, feeling an almost overwhelming urge to hex the man to oblivion.

The Minister's eyes bugged out and he appeared ready to fling another retort, but Dumbledore stepped in to try to diffuse the situation.

"Minister, ambassador, I hardly think this is constructive. Cornelius, you are well aware that Hogwarts' charter does not allow for prospective students to be discriminated against due to blood status, race, nationality, or any other factor. Legally, if I have openings available in her year—which I do—I cannot refuse Miss Delacour entrance into our school—and I would not do so if the opportunity was there. She is a fine young woman, and you are well aware of the reasons for her performance in the tournament and the interference by Bartemius Crouch Jr. I have no doubt she will be a fine asset to Hogwarts and a pleasant addition to our ranks. Do not make this situation any more difficult by bringing up antiquated notions of blood purity or arguments regarding the status of Veela, which is what we all know this is about!"

Certain the Minister was about to burst a vein in his head, Jean-Sebastian regarded the minister with an eye of complete loathing, daring the man to do his worst. It was only a short time, though, before Fudge appeared to master himself and leave well enough alone. It was the first good decision the man had made the entire day.

"Fine!" Fudge spat out. "Your daughter may attend Hogwarts with the attention seeker. Now leave me—I have much work to do."

Jean-Sebastian stood, but he was unable to leave without a parting shot. He loomed over the Minister, aware his height and furious manner were intimidating to the hapless Fudge, who shrunk away in response.

"Let me be rightly understood," Jean-Sebastian growled in a voice absolutely dripping with menace, "I will brook no interference by you or anyone in your government. Don't try me, Minister," the word spat with every ounce of disdain Jean-Sebastian could muster, "you will not enjoy the results."

He turned and stormed from the office and through the Minister's waiting room, beckoning to Harry as he strode past Fudge's startled assistant. Harry took one look at Jean-Sebastian's face and fell in behind him meekly, but although Jean-Sebastian did not want the boy to cower or feel intimidated, it was several minutes' walk down the hallways and up the stairwells of the Ministry building before his Occlumency skills were able to reassert themselves and he was able to master his towering fury toward the impotent and useless British Minister. Something would have to be done about the man, or the war was as good as lost already.

They had reached the Atrium before Jean-Sebastian finally slowed down and turned to Harry, noting the expression of confused apprehension on the boy's face. He smiled at Harry to show him he was not angry, reflecting that something would also have to be done about the boy's timidity and lack of confidence—such traits would do him no good in the face of the vile madman Voldemort.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it appears your Minister is adept in bringing out the worst in me," Jean-Sebastian commented with a wry smile.

Harry's eyes lit up in relief and he returned the smile tentatively. "I can certainly understand that, sir."

"Now, Harry," Jean-Sebastian admonished, "what did we agree about calling me 'sir'?"

Harry's answering blush and stammered reply was were somewhat endearing, but they were still matters of concern to the ambassador. He wondered what the boy had put up with from his so-called relatives—Sirius had only known of the situation in the most general terms. It was definitely something which demanded his immediate attention once things began to settle down.

At that moment, Dumbledore strode up to them with a thoughtful expression on his face which belied the mad twinkling of his eyes.

"Not meaning to criticize," he said with good-natured amusement, "but you do realize you just insulted and threatened a head of state?"

Jean-Sebastian's answering sneer was almost feral. "Why should he be any different? The French Minister knows I will insult him too if he is being an ass!"

"Indeed," Dumbledore, shaking his head with mirth. Harry, Jean-Sebastian noticed, was looking a little lost but was still grinning at the mention of Fudge being insulted.

Jean-Sebastian sobered as quickly as his mirth had appeared. "What do you think the chances are that the Minister will do as he says and investigate Voldemort's return?"

"Slim," Dumbledore responded. "Alas, Fudge was once a good man and is still a passable peacetime minister, but I fear he has become too obsessed with maintaining his image and position and all the comforts, money, and adulation that go with it. It is far easier to hide and claim it cannot be so than to do the right thing. It would surprise me if this was anything more than a stalling tactic."

Jean-Sebastian nodded, expecting nothing else. "We will have to discuss this further, Headmaster, but not here." He peered around them at the bustle of the Ministry building, not trusting that any of those passing by might not be eavesdropping on him now. "I think a more private setting would be prudent."

"I presume you mean to take young Harry back to Delacour castle tonight?" Dumbledore asked with a smile at the young man.

"Yes," Jean-Sebastian responded. "I think he should get used to living with us. Besides, there is someone I think he would like to see waiting for him in France."

The responding smile lit up the young man's face, and he nodded emphatically, prompting both adults to smile in an indulgent manner.

"Then we had best get your belongings, Harry," Jean-Sebastian continued. "You can see Sirius tonight, and I will introduce you to the whole family. But don't worry—we will be back in England by the beginning of the week, so you can continue to see your friends."

The answering grin on Harry's face told Jean-Sebastian all he needed to know—he had handled the situation properly. He knew Harry had some very good friends whom he would not want to leave behind. Hopefully, these friends of his would become close to his own daughter as well—she could use the support herself.

The short journey back to Grimmauld Place was much easier than the trip to the Ministry had been by the simple expedient of the fact that they travelled by Floo rather than the longer Muggle method which had afforded Harry so much time to brood about his situation. Although he knew he had much to consider with the events of the morning, Harry was actually grateful he was not given the time to lose himself in his thoughts—he would need more than a few minutes to assimilate the changes in his life brought about by the morning's events. Now, all he wanted to do was to see his friends and then later in the day see his godfather.

The walk through the Atrium was as uncomfortable as the walk across it that morning had been, as yet again all the attention in the massive room was directed at Harry, making him uncomfortable and edgy. The difference was that whereas in the morning those gathered had largely stared at him and whispered to each other, this time the crowd was more positive, and more than one person had called out greetings and congratulations for the outcome of the trial. He shuddered to think of what it would have been like if he had suffered through a less successful outcome to Fudge's threats. He had learned the wizarding public as a whole tended to be a fickle entity, easily persuaded by the prevailing winds of opinion and recent events, fair or not.

They stopped momentarily near the Floo connection, where Dumbledore passed Jean-Sebastian a small piece of paper. After Jean-Sebastian nodded, they entered the Floo one by one, Dumbledore leading, leaving the Ministry building behind them.

As with every other time he had travelled using the infernal device, Harry, following Dumbledore through the connection, ended up in a heap on the floor at their destination.

Chuckling, a newly arrived Jean-Sebastian helped him to his feet. "I see I will have to teach you the proper way of travelling by Floo. We cannot have you ending up on the floor every time you use it, after all."

Harry thanked him as he stumbled to his feet, eager now to go to meet his friends and thank them for their support.

"Come, Harry—I believe everyone will be waiting for us in the parlor," Dumbledore stated, leading the way from the room.

The short walk to the parlor ended with Harry's vision being occluded by a head of rich brown hair when he was engulfed in one of Hermione's infamous hugs.

"We were so worried," she whispered in his ear, the raw emotion plain in her voice.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry whispered back, choked with his own emotion. "Your support means everything."

He pulled back and noticed her watery eyes and the way in which she attempted to keep her feelings in check. She was always there for him, no matter what. Harry was uncertain what he had possibly done to deserve such a wonderful and steadfast friend.

His ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of the youngest Weasley boys as they crowded around him congratulating him for his escape, and laughing the way people often do when their relief is manifest in an emotional manner.

Ron said nothing, merely slapping him on the back in a comradely fashion, his face beaming at his friend. The twins, though, were a different story.

"Congratulations, Harry!" one exclaimed. "Trust you to wiggle your way out of another trap."

"And come out engaged to a beautiful girl at the same time!" the other finished.

Laughs were heard around the room as Moony and Tonks, along with Bill Weasley, gathered around to offer their congratulations as well. Harry snuck a look at Jean-Sebastian, curious as to what his reaction would be toward the irreverent manner in which the twins had spoken of his daughter, but he could detect nothing in the man's demeanor which would suggest displeasure. It appeared he was enjoying the antics of Harry's friends.

Looking around, Harry spotted Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, but although they both wore smiles, those smiles appeared somewhat forced. A fully confused Harry accepted congratulations from them both. He sensed they were happy that he had been exonerated, but also somewhat offended by something.

Introductions were made all around, with Jean-Sebastian greeting Harry's friends cordially, before his new guardian pulled him aside and in a low voice instructed him to get his things prepared for their departure. Harry nodded and left the room, his two closest friends in tow.

"So what now, mate?" Ron asked.

Climbing the stairs, Harry turned down the long hallway and made his way toward the room he shared with Ron, glancing wistfully over the dingy house which he and his friends had spent the past week so industriously cleaning—no amount of cleaning and scrubbing seemed to be able to dent the air of oppressive gloom which pervaded the dilapidated old house.

"I'm going to France today with Jean-Sebastian," Harry replied absently as they entered the bedroom. "Sirius is already there, and I'll be staying with him, Jean-Sebastian, and his family over the weekend."

Ron blinked. "Going to France?"

"Yeah, Jean-Sebastian wants me to stay with the family and get to know them."

The reactions of his friends were a study in contrasts. Hermione's face became slightly sad, a reflection, he felt, of her unhappiness that their time together this summer would be curtailed. Ron, on the other hand, seemed a little affronted by Harry's opportunity, before his gaze narrowed slightly and his eyes flickered to Hermione and his face assumed a small smirk of satisfaction.

Controlling himself, Harry made certain he did not glance at Hermione himself—it would not do to have Ron catch such a glance. And whatever his feelings were or could have been for his best friend, his betrothal to the young French witch now put any possibility of a relationship with Hermione out of their reach. It appeared Ron had gotten what he had wished—the attention of Hermione without the interference of a competing best friend to muddy the waters. Harry did not allow himself to feel anything over the matter; he would sort it out in his own mind later.

"Good for you, mate," Ron finally stated, a sort of smugness intruding in his manner. "I'll leave you to your packing—we'll see a lot of each other at school again this year."

Slapping Harry's back yet again, Ron exited the room, never noticing the raised eyebrows and slight smirks of his best friends. As the door closed behind him, they both burst out into soft laughter, making certain to keep it quiet so Ron could not hear their amusement, as they knew he would not take being laughed at, especially in a matter such as this, very well.

"I guess he doesn't need to watch us like a hawk any more, does he?" Harry quipped irreverently.

Hermione's laughter grew louder. "I guess not," she responded with a cheeky grin.

"So, are you going to give in and go out with him?" Harry asked. His manner was nonchalant, but he knew inside that the answer to this question was important to him for some indefinable reason. Or perhaps he was simply not willing to admit the reason.

"I don't know if I like him that way," she replied after a moment's thought. "Of course, you know Ron—he may never even get around to asking."

Chuckling at her portrayal of the young redhead, Harry pulled Hermione into another hug, earning himself a surprised expression from her.

Blushing slightly at his own forwardness, Harry reached down and grabbed his trunk. Dropping it on the bed, he began to stuff some of his belongings inside its confines. His possessions were still a little meager, he thought to himself as he put Dudley's old clothes into the trunk. An internal shrug later, he deposited his school stuff and the few items of his own he had managed to collect in the trunk, thinking he had done without many possessions his entire life. Why should now be any different?

Once the action had been completed, he closed the trunk and returned his gaze to his best friend, noting the slightly unsettled expression on the face of his dearest friend.

"Hey, are you all right?" Harry asked gently.

Hermione ducked her head, causing her hair to cascade down and hide her face, but not before Harry caught the faint pink of her cheeks. "I'm fine, Harry." She raised her head again, brushed her hair back behind an ear—an action which caught Harry's attention as one that he found uncommonly attractive—and peered at her friend. "I was just hoping to spend the rest of the summer with all my friends, and now you'll be in France until school starts."

"Don't worry, Hermione. Jean-Sebastian said we'll be back in England next week, so I'm sure we'll have a chance to spend time together again this summer. I'm not sure where we'll be staying, but I'm sure you could come and stay with us."

She smiled again. "I'd like that, Harry." Her mien became serious once again. "I'm glad we'll see you, but I'm concerned about you, Harry. How are you doing with all this?"

Shrugging, Harry gazed back at his friend. "It was a shock, I'll tell you that."

"You didn't know about it in advance?"

"I met Jean-Sebastian for the first time this morning," Harry affirmed, "though I think I remember seeing him with Fleur during the tournament."

"But how do you feel about it?" Hermione pressed. For some reason, the answer to this question seemed important to her.

"Well, it helps that she's cute," Harry responded with a hint of a mischievous grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at him. "Honestly, Harry, is that all you boys think about? I mean, Ron's comments about suitable dates to the Yule Ball, and now you basing your future life on Fleur's looks. Do you ever think about anything else?"

"I'm I a guy, Hermione—what do you expect?" Harry responded, grinning cheekily. "You have to admit—the looks certainly do help. I mean, it could have been someone like Millicent Bulstrode or Pansy Parkinson."

The irreverent statement was completed with a theatrical shudder, causing Hermione to convulse into giggles at his antics.

"Harry James Potter! Will you be serious?"

"Well, if you insist," Harry drawled, giving her a look of long-suffering in response to her exasperation. She laughed and rolled her eyes before directing a baleful glare at him. Harry decided now might be the best time to be serious.

"To be honest," Harry mused after a moment, "I don't know what to think about it. I mean, it was done without my approval—something I'll be talking to Sirius about, I can tell you—but I'm also sure it was done with my best interests at heart. Jean-Sebastian and I had a talk after the trial, and he explained some of his motivations and his concerns for Fleur, so I understand why he did it."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime."

"Of course."

It went without saying that there would be no secrets between Hermione and himself—they had never had any in the past, and he would not start distancing himself from her now, regardless of the existence of a marriage contract.

"I suppose I just have to think of it as an opportunity to expand my horizons and make connections outside of England—an alliance with one of the premier families of France is no small matter, and it may help some day against Voldemort."

He grinned somewhat mischievously at her before continuing, "You should be proud of me; I thought of that all by myself!"

Harry ducked as Hermione swatted at him in a playful manner, grinning the entire time like a Cheshire cat.

"On the other hand," he continued, in a somewhat more serious manner than before, "I don't really know Fleur. I mean, Jean-Sebastian explained a little about what her life has been like and why she is the way she is, but I have two memories of her which stand out in my mind: her snooty tone when she called me a little boy after my name came out of the goblet and the huge hug she gave me after I came out of the water with her sister. How am I to merge those two images in my head? It's almost like it was two different people."

"I understand," Hermione said with a nod. "I guess you have no choice but to get to know her."

"Yeah. That's one of the reasons why Jean-Sebastian wants to go back to France tonight. He told me to ask Fleur about herself and get to know her without any preconceived notions. He didn't want to tell me about her; he wanted me to get it straight from her. He did tell me, though, that her arrogance is a mask and that she has trouble meeting people due to being a Veela. I need to get her perspective before I can know what she is like."

"It makes sense, Harry."

"I know." He sighed and looked at the ground. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I? She's my fiancée now—I'd better get to know her."

That truth acknowledged, they sat in companionable silence for several moments. Although so much had changed in the past few hours, Harry was happy, knowing that no matter what happened, he could always count on the support of his closest friends, especially Hermione. He supposed he would eventually have to transfer his allegiance to Fleur, but for now, Hermione was by far the most important person in his life.

"So what's with Ginny and Mrs. Weasley?" he asked after a moment's thought. "They seemed offended about something."

Hermione just shook her head and gazed fondly at her friend. "Honestly, Harry, you boys are completely thick about some things, aren't you?"

"When it comes to girls, you bet," Harry shot back. "Like Ron says, 'daft—completely daft!'"

This, of course, earned him a roll of Hermione's eyes. "If you'd open your eyes once in a while, you wouldn't think that. They were mad about your change in status, dear Harry. You must have noticed Ginny has had a crush on you forever, and Mrs. Weasley has been eying you as potential son-in-law material for just as long. Longer, I would think, since she told bedtime stories of you to Ginny when she was little."

Harry's eyes felt like they were bugging out of his sockets. "Ginny?" he sputtered incredulously. "How… I mean… what… But I hardly know her! And she's never in the room long enough for me to talk to her or anything. She just squeaks and runs off!"

"And what do you think that means?"

Harry was certain his expression was comical, given Hermione's giggles, but he was not certain where she was going with this.

"She's shy? Or she doesn't like me?"

A huff of irritation met his declaration, and he got the distinct impression Hermione thought him rather slow.

"Harry, do you even use that thing on the top of your shoulders? It's amazing you can even see Ron's feelings for me."

An even more confused Harry stared open-eyed at his friend. "Come on, Hermione, Ron is obvious, considering the way he was watching us and the cow eyes he makes at you when he thinks you're not looking. Besides, he implied as much to me several times, no doubt trying to warn me away from you."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Hermione responded, her voice flat and disapproving. "Maybe I'll need to have a talk with Mr. Weasley and let him know I don't appreciate his claim on me like I was some sort of… object or something."

That was certainly something Harry did not want to deal with—Harry had learned over the years they had been friends to stay out of Ron and Hermione's arguments, not to mention the fact that Ron would be infuriated if he knew the content of this conversation. "If you do, you heard nothing from me!"

A withering glance once again flew in his direction, but Hermione said nothing further on the subject—she merely huffed yet again and directed her gaze at Harry, her manner suggesting she considered him to be somewhat of a simpleton.

"Harry, the reason she won't say anything to you is because she has a crush on you and is too shy to be able to talk to you. She's always been completely infatuated with you and doesn't want you to get the wrong impression of her. She's been fed stories of the Boy-Who-Lived since she was a little girl, and your escapade in the chamber during your second year only solidified you in her mind as her perfect mate."

Another Boy-Who-Lived groupie, Harry thought with some disgust.

His expression must have shown his feelings, as Hermione quickly reached over and placed her hand on his wrist. "Harry, I'm not suggesting she's after you just for your fame, but she has had a crush on you for years. In time, she will probably get over her infatuation and become easier for you to get to know—I don't think she's the kind of person to be interested in you for just your fame."

Harry nodded, but he was still a little sour on the whole idea—he had had enough of people looking at him, seeing nothing more than the boy who had survived a killing curse ever since he had entered this world. He certainly did not need the little sister of one of his closest friends joining the chorus.

Still, if Hermione was convinced of Ginny's character, he supposed he could give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, it didn't really matter anymore anyway—even if Ginny was nothing more than a fan-girl, he was now betrothed.

"Thanks for the explanation, Hermione," he finally responded, regarding his friend somewhat sheepishly. "I guess I never really thought about it."

"Clueless," Hermione responded with a smirk. "You boys are clueless."

"About some things, I guess," Harry responded with a good-natured smile on his face. "But I think we'll need to continue this conversation another time—Jean-Sebastian wants to get back to France. I should get going."

Although she appeared to prefer that he not have to leave so soon, Hermione nodded her agreement, and they exited the room. A short flight of stairs later, they had once again entered the parlor, where the rest of the group awaited them.

The room was quiet, with the occupants divided into several groups, all talking softly to one another—Jean-Sebastian and Dumbledore along with Tonks, Moony and a recently arrived Mr. Weasley, were speaking near the Floo connection, the twins were with Ron, and Bill was watching his brothers' antics with a slight grin on his face. Given Ron's red face and somewhat strangled voice, Harry suspected Fred and George were giving their youngest brother a rough time yet again. And in a corner furthest from the fireplace, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny sat close together, murmuring to each other and casting reproachful looks at the other end of the room, presumably toward Harry's new guardian, if he was any judge. Harry frowned slightly at them, still not completely comfortable with the situation of which Hermione had just made him aware.

Shrugging, he put them from his mind—there would be time enough to deal with Ginny later, if indeed there was any such need. For now, it was time to leave.

With Hermione in tow, Harry crossed the room and approached the largest group in the room. "I'm ready, Jean-Sebastian."

"Excellent." Jean-Sebastian turned to Dumbledore. "If you would, Headmaster, I would like to visit Harry's old guardians and gather whatever he has left there."

"Of course. I can apparate you both there and then you can return and use the Floo in this house to return to the Ministry and the International Floo Network."

"Excuse me," Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupted, "but Harry was to stay with here for the rest of the summer."

Harry turned to regard his friend's mother, noting that a frown crossed Jean-Sebastian's face as he did the same. Still, his voice was nothing less than cordial as he responded.

"That may have been the plan previously, Madam, but the situation has now changed. Harry will be returning to Delacour castle with me this evening and staying with his godfather and my family for the rest of the summer."

"But what about his friends?"

The tightening of Jean-Sebastian's mouth was visible to Harry, but his reply was as genial as before. "I have no intention whatsoever to prohibit Harry from seeing his friends. I have accepted the position of Ambassador to England, so we will move here by the beginning of next week. After that, Harry will only be a Floo connection away from his friends and can visit at any time. In fact, we would be more than happy to have them stay with us whenever they would like—we are very grateful he has had such close friends to help him through his time in Hogwarts. But for now, he will return to France with me and get to know his new family. And I think he would like to see his godfather…"

Harry blushed and returned Jean-Sebastian's questioning gaze with tentative smile. "I'd like to see Sirius. And I think I should get to know Fleur as well."

The responding smile was one of genuine affection, which caused Harry to duck his head in embarrassment. But Mrs. Weasley was still not convinced.

"But surely he should be with his friends—"

"I beg your pardon, madam," Jean-Sebastian interjected, cutting her off before she could get going, "but I think I am aware of what is best for my ward. Harry needs to get to know his betrothed and his new family."

"We're his family," Mrs. Weasley snapped.

The full force of Jean-Sebastian's glare was now directed at the Weasley matron, and while she was clearly uncomfortable at being the focus of his displeasure, she responded gamely with a glare of her own.

"I hardly think Harry considers you his family, given what I know of the time he has spent in your company over the past several years."

She began stuttering in response, but Jean-Sebastian did not allow her to get started. "Please, Mrs. Weasley, Harry has stayed with you for what—a few weeks in the summer? And I know you were gone most of the summer before his third year. He can hardly have become like another son to you in so short a time, unless you have some other reason for claiming him."

With an almost audible snap, her mouth closed, but the glower never left her face. Jean-Sebastian, however, appeared unconcerned.

"As I stated before, I am thankful for the efforts of your family and others of Harry's acquaintance," he nodded to Dumbledore and Remus, "for their support and assistance to Harry, but one day, Harry will be my son-in-law. At the present time, he is my responsibility and will eventually be part of my family."

His tone left no room for disagreement. Although she was still visibly upset, Mrs. Weasley nodded her head in understanding and rose from her chair, approaching Harry with a warm smile on her face.

"Harry, dear, remember we are your friends and would be happy to have you stay with us at any time. We will see you next week when you return from France."

She hugged him briefly and then, after favoring Jean-Sebastian with an imperious glance, stalked out of the parlor. Harry smiled at Jean-Sebastian's raised eyebrow, indicating his readiness to depart. Saying a quick goodbye to his friends, he gathered his trunk and followed him out down the hallway and through the front door, eager to see Sirius and start his new life.

Updated 03/01/2013