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Chapter Thirty: Win Some, Lose Some

The Escola Superior de Magia was the oldest school of magic in the Americas. Founded in 1575 by fleeing Portuguese witch-born who felt the need to save the few witch-born among the imported African slaves who were regularly killed, the school originally began in an abandoned native village, before the witches and wizards forcibly occupied a former Portuguese fort situated on an un-plottable reef a mile from Sào Marcelo. In fact it was one of two forts built off the coast to hold off Dutch invaders, though the school itself did not move into the fort until 1650.

Like its sister fort, the Escola Superior was built of stone in a circular structure; however it was three times the size of the Fortaleza de Sào Marcelo. Additional expansion charms on the interior courtyard provided sufficient space for the Quidditch pitch, green houses and magical menagerie common to most magical schools in the world.

Headmistress Lucilaine Aparecida Moreira was not even half Dumbledore's age, which still put her at well over a hundred. She was short, barely even five feet all, but bustled about with the energy of a woman a quarter her age, and with enough power to convince even the staunchest doubter of her position as a dame and headmistress.

Even on the other side of the globe, Covens controlled the ministry. The difference was they did not even bother with a Wizengamot. The government was completely dominated by the Dames who met in what they called De Coven Superior, and only those wizards the Dames approved of worked in their Ministry.

The Escola, at least, was co-ed, and so when their carriage arrived from Hogwarts they were not met by a line of black-clad, hungrily-staring girls. Instead, they were met by a collection of brightly-clad young men and women who applauded their arrival with whistles, cheers and an impromptu dance.

Harry originally thought Brazil would be comprised solely of brown-skinned natives, knowing nothing of its history. He was astonished to find the most mixed, cosmopolitan collection of ethnicities in the school he could imagine. There were Germans, Japanese, Italian and French students at the school, though the Portuguese and the descendants of the Africans dominated.

Harry enjoyed the tour, the dancing and the food more than anything else he'd ever done before. He did not, however, enjoy the game.

The Escola Superior was superior, with a devastating Chaser attack that overwhelmed their beaters and left Cedric scrambling. Harry caught the snitch, since in that one area Hogwarts had the advantage, but unfortunately it was just too little too late, and Hogwarts lost by fifty points.

The press conference after the game was entirely in Portuguese. Cedric smiled with the rest, congratulating the other team in halting Portuguese, which got a small round of appreciative applause from the witches in the press corps, but the rest of the conference was above the English students' heads.

The whole trip took a day, long enough to just see the school, but not long enough to really see the country, or learn much about the culture. Harry vowed to return one day, but probably as a Muggle under the Veil.

Their return to Hogwarts brought the first snow of the season, and a reminder that they only had one more game before the holiday break.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

The Beauxbatons Quidditch team arrived on the morning of the second Saturday in December in a pastel blue, Cinderella-style carriage drawn by a team of four giant winged horses. "They're called Abraxans," Hermione helpfully supplied to his question.

In the days after her palm reading, Hermione acted somewhat cold and abrupt around Harry, until Wednesday when Harry approached her little group in the Common Room about a chemistry problem he could just not figure out. Jessica and Leah were both a part of her study group, while Parvati, Lavender and Lilith Moon were noticeably absent. He knew the other Gryffindor girls had formed their own study trio.

"Take a seat," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Now, what are we looking at?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. "I just don't understand the chemical formula stuff. What is binary ionic, or polyatomic ionic?"

His expression must have been funny, because Jessica giggled. Hermione, however, launched right in. "Those are types of molecules, and they're important because chemical formulas are written with rules based on each type. Let's start with Type 1, binary ionic…"

After that, he noticed her attitude warm significantly as they started working together over the various Muggle Study subjects. He thought she was a little disappointed to find he was doing well in his core magical classes, and was actually outperforming her in Defence, Care and Potions. But in the Muggle subjects, she was not just the top of their class, but was the highest ranked in the whole school.

Now, she stood next to him, Angelina and Katie as they watched the carriage and on the snow-covered causeway that led to the main entrance of the castle and its courtyard. The causeway was broad enough for two of the Hogsmeade carriages to pass by with room to spare, but to a hurtling, flying-horse drawn carriage, it seemed a precarious place to land.

The driver of the carriage nailed the landing, and Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief as the carriage drove into the courtyard surrounded by students, while Dumbledore and the staff waited at the entrance itself.

The carriage door opened and a witch in a heavy, pastel-blue cloak that perfectly matched the carriage climbed out. She was a striking woman, with large, broad features that actually reminded him of a thinner, more elegantly refined Gregoria. She was tall for a woman, but not remarkably so. She stepped forward as Dumbledore did the same; they did not hug as he had with the American witch, but instead he gave a courtly bow from the waist, while she performed a text-book curtsy. "Madame Maxime!"

"Monsieur Dumblydorrree!" she said, slaughtering his name and yet still sounding perfectly elegant while doing so. "I present the pride of Beauxbatons, the Abraxans!"

Fourteen students ranging in age from fifteen to eighteen stepped out of the carriage, four boys, ten girls, and every single one of them was beautiful. Even the boys looked…well, not beautiful, but ridiculously handsome.

"Oh goodness," Hermione breathed.

"Those boys look good enough to eat," Angelina said.

Harry, though, was looking at their magic and shook his head. "Sorry, ladies, they're taken."

"Even the little one?" Katie Bell whined.

"Yeah, even the little one."

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked. Unlike Angelina and Katie, who after three full years of Quidditch had come to learn a little about how his magic worked, this was actually the first year Hermione had any time with him at all.

"I can see the bonds," he said. "None of the boys are bonded with the girls on the team. Some of the girls are bonded too, except…"

Hermione, Angelina and Katie all turned to look at him when he went silent and saw with alarm how he was staring, his jaws gaping and his whole face flushing red. They were about to say something to him when on the opposite side of the French, another Hogwarts student fainted dead away to the snickers and catcalls from some of the students standing nearby.

Hermione stared, recognizing the girl as Luna Lovegood—the only other Aether in class.

In a flash of insight that would be important for years to come, Hermione said, "Oh Morgana, there must be a Veela in there. Girls, grab him and turn him around, now!"

Angelina did even better—she slapped him, hard and loud enough that even the French students turned to stare, only to see Angelina shaking Harry and say, "Snap out of it!"

The three girls pulled Harry out of the crowd, followed moments later by Cedric and Neville. In desperation, the girls pulled him toward the Hospital Wing, only to be intercepted by Professor McGonagall, who was actually running after them. "No, not in there!" she said. "That's where Professor Flitwick took Ms Lovegood. No, let's take him up to the tower."

"I don't get it, what's wrong with him? He's acting drunk!" Neville said.

"She's soooooooooo beautiful!" Harry sang, horribly. His voice warbled between that of a boy and that of a very tone-deaf man.

"Was I right, Professor?" Hermione said. "That blonde girl who came out last, was she a Veela?"

"Yes, it appears so," McGonagall said curtly. "How did you know?"

"I saw Lovegood pass out and realized it was an Aether thing, and then I remembered Professor Lupin covering sentient creatures. There was a long discussion about the Veela colonies on the continent and their struggle for equal rights, and why they were having such a difficult time with the fight."

"Well done, Ms Granger!" McGonagall said. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for keeping our star Seeker from involuntarily bonding with the French!"

"Involuntary?" Neville gulped.

They reached the empty Gryffindor Common room and placed Harry on the couch. "It's a function of Veela magic," Hermione explained. "Veela are always female, and the magic breeds true. They are sexual predators, closely associated with succubae but without the lethality. Their magic will actually shift its elemental leaning to match whichever male is closest, making them able to bond anyone to them. And unlike normal witches, they can bond multiple men. That's why they've been so discriminated against over the years—they're a threat to the covens."

"And it just so happens that to an Aether, their magic is perfect, since it is able to simulate each elemental leaning," McGonagall said. "I dare say if Ms Lovegood hadn't passed out, she would have bonded to Ms Delacour as surely as Harry would have."

"Delacour?" Harry asked, blinking up at McGonagall. "Like that reporter from our first game? Will she come here? Do you think she would kiss me?"

"Quite probably," McGonagall said. She then pointed her wand and jabbed at him. "Stupefy."

A small spark of red light hit him and he fell back into the couch, comatose. "Well, that does it," McGonagall said. "Diggory, are you still here?"

"Here, Professor," he said.

She nodded. "Mr Diggory, Ms Johnson, Potter cannot play. Ms Delacour is the Seeker on the French team. We had papers from the French Ministry explaining her status as a student, which means we cannot legally ask for her to not play. I know you selected Ms Chang as Mr Potter's reserve, but I know you are also a Seeker."

"Cho's better," Cedric said quickly.

"I agree," Angelina said. "And if we need, my back up Donna has played Seeker too."

"What does this do for us?" McGonagall asked.

Angelina's frown was worried. "They're good, Professor, but Delacour herself is an unknown. She wasn't on any of the Omniocular recordings we scouted, so she didn't play last year, or even in their first two games this year."

McGonagall blinked. "Why…I wonder if they have her on the team solely because of her effect on Harry?"

Cedric looked at Angelina, who shrugged. "Who knows how the French think? But if that's the case, we might be able to juggle the lineup. If they sub players, we can do the same, and just make sure Harry isn't in the air whenever she is."

"Fine," McGonagall said. "He should have a box of potions on him for…other reasons. One of them is a calming draught. Make sure he takes one before the game."

"You know, this Aether business seems a lot more trouble than it's worth," Cedric said. "First he misses a practice because of a vision, and then this."

"Many people dream of unique powers," McGonagall said, "but few bother to consider the price that comes with it. Now, let's see what we can do to win this game, shall we?"

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Within the first five minutes of play, Harry knew that Fleur Delacour was a weapon aimed right at him. He did not actually watch her directly, but instead watched her teammates who seemed caught off guard by not playing against Harry Potter. The distraction opened a door for Angelina, Katie and Stephanie Harlow, while Vincent and Gregoria had a field day taking pot-shots at the opposing players.

Fleur Delacour was simply not a good Quidditch flyer. She was great on fast straightaways and had good posture, at least according to Terri Boot, one of the Chaser Reservists. "But look at how wide her turn radius is. She's really shaky on the quick manoeuvres. This girl's never played Quidditch before in her life, I bet. She flies more like a broom racer, you know, like they have on the continent for the rich, snobby types?"

Harry was forced to agree, since he dared not look the French Veela directly.

"They've raised a sub-flag!" Fred Weasley said. "Yep, they're taking Delacour out. Harry, go!"

Within minutes of Fleur leaving the game, Harry and Cho Chang switched places, grinning widely at each other. The moment he was in the game, Harry started to mercilessly hound the opposing Chasers, not even bothering to look for the Snitch. He played harder, and in truth, meaner than he had ever played before, but he took all the anger for the French team's duplicity out on the Quaffle, scoring ten steals within the first thirty minutes of his play.

When the French team subbed again and brought Fleur back into the game, Harry and Cho quickly switched places again. From the frustrated expressions on the opposing player's faces, Harry knew they had figured out exactly what the English were doing.

What should have been a game of skill and tactics turned into a farce of musical chairs, with each team subbing out its Seekers on a regular basis, until finally the French team decided having an inadequate Seeker was more desirable then letting their opponents have an excellent Seeker.

Unfortunately for the French, Cho Chang was not a bad Seeker by any stretch. While she did not have Harry's skill and instinct in disrupting plays, she had enough experience to be able to do some damage, and that edge in experience and skill made all the difference. Though the Beauxbatons Chasers were actually very good, they lost so much ground because of their machinations they were unable to make up the difference before Cho caught the snitch far away from an oblivious Fleur Delacour, ending the game with a resounding victory over the much-favoured French team.

The real fireworks, though, didn't happen until the press conference. Headmaster Dumbledore, with a pleasant smile on his lips and a blast of arctic chill in his blue eyes, flamboyantly conjured a blind next to Harry, pointedly preventing him from looking at the French team on the other side of the table.

More interestingly, Madame Maxime actually looked fairly embarrassed, and bowed in a subservient fashion to the ancient wizard. The press watched the whole thing in rapturous silence, sensing a wonderful, titillating story shaping up right before their eyes. Naturally, it was Rita Skeeter who began. "Headmaster Dumbledore, for those of us not entirely informed about the mechanics of Quidditch, could you help me understand why the Seekers for both teams were switching so often? Is that normal?"

"My dear, I haven't played Quidditch since eighteen hundred and five, a game which ended in time for me to attend a most scintillating premier of a piece I believe is now known as the Eroica in the Theater an der Wien. While Beethoven was a temperamental Muggle to be sure, his music is truly timeless."

Skeeter opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then turned to Cedric. "Mr Diggory, perhaps an explanation from this century?"

Cedric normally had a huge smile plastered on his face for these things, but Harry saw that even the indefatigable Cedric Diggory was upset. "Well, it seems our opponents decided to make a last-minute substitution to their roster, adding a Veela to their Seeker position."

The uproar from the press surprised even Harry. Witches from the English press corps shot to their feet, faces red with indignation, and began shouting at their French counterparts for daring to bring a magical creature as a student.

At which point Monsieur Delacour, representing the French corps, stood up and set off a loud popping sound with his wand. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted, "Fleur is an enrolled student of Beauxbatons in her last of seven years of study. She was granted an exemption to the law years ago and has never had any issues as a student. Why does it become an issue because this little boy can't control himself?"

This just caused more shouting, until Dumbledore's voice blasted through the tent. "BEHAVE!"

Witches and wizards sat down as if spanked at the display of not just volume, but the sheer magical power behind the words. To Harry, it felt like sunlight on his skin. He watched as Dumbledore's projected aura of fiery magic swept across everyone, almost compelling them to do as he demanded.

Into the sudden, deafening silence that followed, the Headmaster said, "Thank you. Madame Maxime would like to address today's events."

"Thank you," the woman said in a clear enough accent. Harry realized she had originally slaughtered Dumbledore's name intentionally, because she spoke plainly enough now. "Anyone who has studied Veela understands the effects they can have on certain segments of the magical population. Beauxbatons had an Aether student who was a fourth year when Ms Delacour started, and we had to keep them strictly separated for fear of a same-sex bonding. It is an established fact that Aethers have no defence against the Veela allure, and to my shame I knew this when our team captain suggested adding her onto the team to counteract the Hogwarts Seeker. As Headmistress, this was my decision, and I accept the blame for any harm done. Mr Potter, on behalf of myself and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, I offer you my sincere apologies, and hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive us."

Every eye turned to Harry, and he flushed beet red. "Well, er, okay, I-I forgive you."

While not exactly a ringing pronouncement of forgiveness, the French headmistress accepted it. "Thank you, Mr Potter."

"This was especially unfortunate given that the Beauxbatons team is otherwise quite skilled," Cedric said. "We reviewed Omniocular recordings of their games, just as I'm sure they did of our games, and they fielded a really solid group. I think their efforts to negate Harry actually ended up losing the game for them."

"Harry's an important part of the team," Angelina said, "but he's only a part of the whole."

"That's right," Harry said. "Cho Chang stepped in an hour before the game and flew brilliantly. I don't know about the rest of the team, but I feel relieved to know that if anything happens to me, there's a witch as skilled as she is, ready to take over."

"Absolutely," Cedric said. "She represents the best of Ravenclaw House here at Hogwarts. She's a brilliant, tactical flier and a great addition to the team." He turned and made a show of applauding, causing Cho to blush furiously even as she smiled with a touch of longing at Cedric.

With Maxime's seemingly heartfelt apology and Cedric's skilful redirection, the rest of the conference went on with a minimum of drama, however immediately after Madame Maxime made her excuses to Dumbledore and led her team off immediately to return to France, skipping the planned tour of the school and joint meal after.

They were not missed, and in fact may have avoided possible violence in leaving early. When Harry and the rest of the players returned to the castle, they found the students in an uproar as loud as that in the conference. In Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley especially was shouting at the bloody "Frogs" and their stupid, dirty, underhanded tricks.

"Gee, I think she took it personally," Neville muttered with a grin.

"Yeah, I wonder why?" Harry said.

Still, a win was a win, and once the indignation died down, the party started. Harry was on his second butterbeer and feeling very mildly buzzed when Professor McGonagall stepped into the room and gathered him and the rest of the players and led them down the narrow hall to her office. "Have a seat," she said sternly as she walked around her desk.

"What's this about, Professor?" Angelina asked.

"A surprise social function," McGonagall said. "There is to be a ball in Geneva for all the participating teams and their partners. I have been led to believe it is a matter of social standing that a partner is expected, and not a partner from the team. For instance, Ms Bell, you and Mr Potter would not be appropriate partners because of your status as teammates. Likewise, Ms Johnson, I'm afraid you and Mr Weasley would not be appropriate. The Ball is to be held on the Winter Solstice. Attire will be strictly formal, and given the political nature of the ball, the Department of Magical Cooperation will be financing your attire."

"A free formal dress?" Katie's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Not just for you, but your partner," McGonagall said. "Once you have your partners selected, please meet after classes this coming Friday for an introduction to dance. Dancing is NOT optional."

As she spoke, Harry felt like sinking deeper and deeper into his chair. "I don't know how to dance," he finally said.

"Which is why we will be having classes," McGonagall said. "I am truly sorry for the short notice—it was the brainchild of the department head. The man is a disgrace, I'll tell you that much. But it's been agreed on by the other schools, so we are going as well. I don't need to tell you all that you are to be on your best behavior."

"We will, Professor," Angelina said.

"Good. Now get back to your party and enjoy yourselves. I'll provide more information this Friday as it becomes available. Good night."

Harry walked back to the party feeling as if he was walking to his execution.

"Bad luck, that," Georgina laughed as she viciously hit his shoulder. "So many birds, which one to choose?"

"Indeed, it's a quandary," Fred said. "Reckon Belinda'll go with me? I heard she has some pretty nifty tan lines."

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't let the joke distract him from the real problem—who the hell was he going to ask?

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.