Chapter Twenty-nine - The Return

Soleil tossed his head and neighed loudly, stomping down with his front hooves perilously close to a pair of smaller feet, although ones protected by iron overshoes. The owner of the armored toes was patiently trying to quiet the Abraxan.

"Yes, Soleil, yes. It -was- fun. But now we must be quiet, you see?" calmed Gabrielle. She and the winged equine lurked - as much as a huge golden palomino with matching wings and an attitude could lurk - just near Stanislaw's tent. It was part of the plan.

Soleil bobbed his head and whinnied gleefully. And loudly, which was definitely not what Gabrielle had wanted and which made a mockery of Ginny's notion that animals would do as she asked. Gabrielle tried again. "We can not, eh, play the, eh, prank on that Stanislaw if you make people look at us." Another head bob. Of agreement? Another loud vocalization. Possibly he thought it funny, possibly he was just being contrary, probably he did not understand her at all.

Gabrielle gave up shushing the colt, and clipped Pepi-Z to her hair. Her locks were no longer dramatic, or comically curly. Just chewed and regrettably plain. The plan, which was part hers, part Harry Potter's, and mostly Ginny's, would still work. Hermione thought that the whole thing was unnecessarily risky. George did not have an opinion, because he was being forced to help Abby. Probably forced. Hopefully forced. Gabrielle could tell the plan would work by the way the hairs pricked on the back of her neck. It was a premonition! Of some sort - it was not like when she Saw the past. Everything had come together and arranged itself just so. The most important of those arranged parts, to Gabrielle at least, had been in the post from Papa. Her father had, correctly outraged over her treatment at the hands of the dismissed healer and her troll-sized suppository, sent a portkey and a stern note, on Ministry letterhead, for Festeller. It should have been a Howler in her opinion. The portkey meant that Gabrielle could slip away quickly after her role was over, and any questions afterwards would just be a vindictive attack on an innocent student. Anyway, it was Harry Potter. Things happened around him; everyone knew that. And Gabrielle had made her own, personal addendum to Ginny's plan. She had decided to take George with her when she used the portkey, since she was very certain Paris had many jewelry shops and hardly any Gleasson apparati.

Gabrielle was waiting for the diversion. Professor Festeller was giving one of his after-dinner lectures, and Hermione's task was to be there and ask questions as a delaying tactic. Most of those in camp would attend. Gabrielle always supposed that Stanislaw was forced to. She hoped that Hermione could come up with a lot of questions, because dinner had been a bit spartan. Helping Nona prepare the food had led to the day's first premonition. The normally laconic witch was distracted by her good crystal ball, which was usually only brought out when there were customers coming. While Gabrielle chopped vegetables and thin slivers of her own skin, Nona rifled through her chests and barrels, bringing forth small trinkets that she would hold up to Gabrielle's face. Most were quickly put away again, but a mummified leg from a toad and a sliver of mirror held in silver wire replaced the weird claw on the thin chain around Gabrielle's neck. It was the look of worry on the crone's face that raised the hairs on what that chain encircled. Gabrielle knew that the old witch could See. It was understanding what she Saw that was the problem.

"Fëmijë, ju duhet të qëndrojnë me atë kërriçin. Dhe ju të dëgjoni zhabë, [1]" Nona had advised solemnly. At least, Gabrielle thought it was advice. She had nodded as if it were the wisdom of the ages and smiled in a way that hopefully meant 'yes, of course'. Gabrielle suspected that she had not managed it, though, since Nona had just sighed and turned away.

Dinner was quick; Nona was nervous. It was no surprise at all, then, that the old witch's cottage had vanished soon afterwards. That was premonition enough for Gabrielle. She had the wand from her Grandmere, the knife from Gaston, and her handbag. She had Pepi-Z, and Lieutenant Mimsey Plumes was perched nearby, which meant that she had almost all of her things at hand. The squirrel Sauveuret scampered boldly near the owl. As helpful as he had been, Gabrielle hoped that he did not see himself as her latest pet. Only her favorite wand and Poisseux were unaccounted for.

Having all her things at hand also meant that she had the charmed apron. Gabrielle would save that until the diversion began. The presence of Soleil would keep the others in camp away, but only if she was with the colt, which was somehow more worrying to her fellow witches and wizards than Soleil on his own.

v - v - v - v - v

"[Where did you get these from?]" asked the voice of Harry Potter. He sounded quite impressed. The teen himself was invisible, unless one laid on the ground. Then his scuffed trainers could be seen. A reasonably sensitive nose could also smell them, out to a distance of several feet. The course on Magics of the Domicile had not been on anyone's syllabus for a decade.

"[From George's shirt - he never does empty his pockets for laundry,]" said Ginny. "[I let go the three bats he had. Mum complained all the time about those two and what she would find.]"

"[He had those in his shirt?]" These were three of the largest Wildfire Door-Knockers he had ever seen.

"[Yes, Harry. In a -magic- pocket.]"

"[Oh, er, right.]"

"[Dead easy to make, 'ccording to Hermione,]" claimed Ron. He was dressed as a mountain troll. A very small troll, with a glamour that made him ugly enough but did not quite hide his freckles or red hair. This was, in the opinion of the diminutive troll himself, an important addition to the overall scheme. "[The pocket, I mean. Unless you want 'em to last. And you don't wanna know what's on the other side.]"

"[I don't?]" asked Harry. "[Why not?]"

"[Why ask me? I didn't want to know.]"

"[You are such an arse, Weasley.]"

"[Call Ginny that again I swear I'll thrash you!]"

"[Shut up, the both of you,]" said Ginny. "[You take this one, Harry; I'll get the other two.]"

"[Oy! What about me?]" asked the ersatz troll. "[I get one too, right?]"

"[Very natural disguise for you, innit?]" asked Ginny, rolling her eyes. "[How're you supposed to get about unnoticed looking like that? You just concentrate on not getting blown up, right?]"

The advice was left unacknowledged because Ron was now wrestling with an unseen opponent who had burst out laughing.

v - v - v - v - v

Severus Snape had, decades ago, moved up through the ranks of the Death Eaters by deed and, mostly, cunning. It had been a dangerous time, a difficult time, and had been entirely misguided. Rising up through this lot, Snape considered, surveying the Dark Lord's recruits, no, mob before him, would have been but an afternoon's work. The unsteady, but upright, figure of Pettigrew included. Pettigrew clearly had not yet recovered from target practice. As the target.

The smaller figure of the Dark Lord conversed with a tall, thickly built wizard with a full, black beard. The wizard, Russian, as far as Snape could make out, was the only one worth a wand. The other four were wizards in the sense that they were not muggles. Snape understood that the five were expected to provide a distraction, but he doubted that even Weasley would have much trouble dispatching these dunderheads. At least they had confidence in their abilities, though that was more due to the potion stirred into their drink than accurate self-assessment.

Severus sighed and looked across the waving fields of ripening grain to the clustered tents. He could see, and hear, the Abraxan, and idly wondered what the farmers in the house beyond made of the noise. The peculiar young girl stood casually next to the boisterous animal. His eyes narrowed with long experience - she stood the way a student about to cause trouble would stand.

v - v - v - v - v

The only thing in Merlin's realm that was more annoying than an angry Abraxan was, thought Gabrielle, a bored Abraxan. Actually, argued a second thought, many things were more annoying. There were nasty kettles, the school brooms, and thin-walled cauldrons, for example. Including people, there was Festeller, Fleur, Aunt Laurel, Lucretia, and even Ginny at times.

The only thing more annoying - and currently present - than an angry Abraxan, Gabrielle started again, was a bored Abraxan. Had it even been ten minutes yet? She had tried to entertain Soleil by reading him the other letters that had come in the package from Papa. Now she held three-quarters of a note from Fleur, and would never know the names her sister was considering for the baby because the last quarter was being ground to pulp by Soleil's huge molars. There was sure to be a test, too. Gabrielle sighed. She was certain Fleur would ask her opinion only to help decide what not to choose.

The colt had enjoyed the earlier letter from her best friend Monique. Enjoyed listening to it, that is. Possibly that was because it contained a descriptive list of plants that could make comfortable cloth, or a good equine snack. Seemed to enjoy, Gabrielle decided, otherwise it implied that Soleil understood. Although, he had bobbed his head when she had read the part where Monique discovered that her new fashions were turning into compost in her wardrobe. His reaction, Gabrielle assumed, was simply due to the way she had read it. Monique also wrote, of course, with her advice that Gabrielle get more sun, since she was so pale.

The last short note was from Silvain. Again. He had returned with his family from vacation and was looking forward to the new term. Gabrielle tried to interest Soleil in the parchment, but he appeared to have temporarily had his fill of the inedible.

Pepi-Z jerked in his tether, so Gabrielle quit trying to stuff the note into Soleil's mouth and looked around. She could not see anyone, but the red bobble that was the remains of her pet had never been wrong. This was the reason Gabrielle was able to see the first explosion, a very, very loud, very bright, and very beautiful fireball. The vast globe was bright yellow with swirls of orange, and it hung around long enough for one to notice that, which meant it was magic. It was the diversion!

A frightened whinny drew Gabrielle's attention from the wonderful flames. She now spotted a small flaw in the plan - Pepi-Z was not the only one on a tether. If Soleil bolted, she would be dragged along behind him or would end up dangling below. "In here, Soleil!" she shouted, pulling hard on the tether in the direction of the curse-breaker's tent. "We will, eh, eh, wait in here." Gabrielle had nearly said hide, which would have certainly set off Soleil's contrariness. That is, if he could understand her, because she did not talk with animals.

Another explosion lit the early evening sky. It was blue-green, judging by the light reflected back from the tent. Soleil reared, jerking Gabrielle into the air. She landed just before the colt's tremendous front hooves did, and those hooves buried her iron-protected foot a dozen centimeters into the ground. There was a lot of shouting now, and Gabrielle knew it would be best to wear the apron, but there was no use in even trying until Soleil was settled. She pulled at the leather tether again and shouted. Soleil yanked her free of the soil, and her footwear.

This behavior, Gabrielle decided, was stupid and that Soleil had no business being frightened of something so far away. She aimed a slap at his huge muzzle. "What is this? Oh mon Dieu, Montaigne would not be afraid!"

The outburst got the colt's attention, and a spark of pride at least momentarily quieted the animal. Gabrielle started for Stanislaw's tent. She was certain that a real curse-breaker would not have to hop. The diversion was certainly doing its job. Gabrielle could see spells flying past the tents. That had not been any part of the plan that she could remember, and she definitely had not expected the screams. There was supposed to be a third explosion though. It would be needed if Soleil did not intend to follow her.

Fortunately, Soleil was following, and closely. Gabrielle had stopped short after entering the tent; Soleil had not. She got back up, and guessed that the Abraxan had remembered that they were to play a 'prank' on Stanislaw. Thinking of pranks, though, Gabrielle wondered if she were in the middle of one herself. There were toads everywhere inside the tent! No, Gabrielle corrected herself, there were a lot of toads in the tent, but just around the chest. If she had to guess, she would say that the damp little creatures were trying to tip the thing over. That was, in her opinion, very optimistic, given a toad's general stumpiness. And not very toad-like. Gabrielle doubted that there were toad tidbits in there. Pepi-Z jumped excitedly where he was clipped to her hair.

"Oh! Poisseux! There you are!" exclaimed Gabrielle. He may have been a Bad Toad lately, but she would not leave without him. Poisseux was straining at the chest - he did not even eat toad tidbits. Zombie pets were a great savings when it came to feed. Gabrielle snatched him up and tucked him safely into her handbag.

And thus, Lord Dureseches and his Wormeaters suffered their first defeat. It was Lord Dureseches because Posi-sex-u was just not going to work.

v - v - v - v - v

Harry Potter spotted a familiar figure, and called out hoarsely, "What's going on?" He remained hidden by the invisibility cloak.

"Yargh! Bleagh!"

"Ron, it's me. Where's Ginny? Where's Hermione? Why isn't anyone coming this way?"

"'Cuz I'm doing too good a job? Bleagh!"

Harry lowered the cloak so he could stare incredulously at his best mate. The troll glamour had obviously been deep enough to affect his brain. "Don't be thick, Ron. The shouting should be over here. Let's go find the girls."

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle scrutinized the chest. The chest, it seemed, scrutinized her in return, malevolently enough that she decided to scrutinize the scattering toads instead. Being toads, they had not managed to scatter very far yet. Why would toads, especially plain, boring, regular toads, even bother with a chest? Why, wondered Gabrielle, were they trying to tip it over? A second thought noted, with a touch of smugness, that obviously the amphibians were simply too squat to reach the lid, surely something that other thoughts should have picked up on. Gabrielle picked up a fat brown toad, and asked, not actually expecting an answer of course, "Why were you, eh, doing that?"

The toad said nothing, as a toad should, but turned its head so its black eye could see the handbag. "Ah," said Gabrielle, though no useful thought followed that. "He is, eh, safe in there. We will be leaving soon." She put the toad back down, then slapped another from Soleil's thick lips. "That is -not- food," she scolded the colt.

Although the conversation had been brief, and not a conversation at all really, it had told Gabrielle quite a lot. Mostly, it had told her that Poisseux had been in charge. He was not after toad tidbits; he was after the cup too! Which, thought Gabrielle, made the collective action at the chest important because Poisseux was a very intelligent, if decidedly wayward, toad. That was logic, and logic was a talent of hers.

So, overturning the chest was the first step. That, reasoned Gabrielle, probably meant that she should not touch the chest. She circled around behind it, where she had recaptured Poisseux. There, at least, the brass-bound oak did not look so accusingly at her. Gabrielle put her foot on the lid and kicked out.

Her toes remained attached only because of the unpaired iron overshoe, which blocked the long thin blade that sliced across the gap where the lid met the bottom. Said pedicure shield now had a gleaming nick on the side, and Gabrielle had been spun to the floor by the slashing edge. That, thought Gabrielle, was completely uncalled for! What kind sort of person would own a chest like that?

A curse-breaker, answered a voice in Gabrielle's head that sounded very Fleur-like. A curse-breaker who could sell what was in that chest for hundreds of galleons and did not want to lose such to a silly little girl. Gabrielle frowned. It had not been, in the shock of the moment, perhaps, the brightest of questions, but she should not have to listen to that from herself. Gabrielle stood back up and untangled herself from the tether, an action which reminded her that she was still wearing it. She wriggled out of the leather straps, then discovered another small flaw in her plan, which was actually quite a large, fresh, steaming pile. Even without Soleil's fragrant contribution, anyone with a nose would know that an Abraxan had been in the tent.

Gabrielle vanished the dung and, unintentionally, because her rustic wand with the twist thought it could do more, a small throw rug. That had been ugly and rather dirty anyway, but it was not helpful. Soleil, for his part, was just shuffling nervously, at least until Gabrielle picked up the twig doll from Nona that Stanislaw had kept. She put it into the handbag, then gave Soleil a withering look. He missed her disapproval, and licked the side of her face from chin to hairline. That was not helpful either.

The chest was still upright - Gabrielle's attempt had only rocked it. If Philippe, her squib childhood friend, were here, thought Gabrielle, he would have one of his thin metal bars to use. All she had was a wand...

The search for something to transfigure took but a moment, and would have taken even less time had there not been a knot of toads clambering over her selection. It was, well, it -appeared- to be a simple cane. The important thing about the item was that it was made of wood and was not too thick. It was also pretty close to the needed shape already. Gabrielle focused on the smooth, polished shaft, and touched her wand to it. She could feel the magic flow, the wand surge, the - Wham!

Gabrielle reeled and flung the cane away. The hand she put to her nose came away smeared with blood. It was something felt instead of seen, as she was blinded by the pain. Merde! More annoyed with her usual luck than anything else, she nonetheless glared at the toads through her watering eyes, all the while pressing the sides of her nose to staunch the bleeding. The toads had clawed the handle of the cane away from the lower shaft, revealing a bright blade. Not that Gabrielle much noticed. She was now worrying over a clicking from her nose. Oh mon Dieu, was, was it broken?

Soleil nudged Gabrielle forward toward the earnest amphibians. There was no way to ignore that - his head was larger than her torso. But she was no longer interested in the toads, the cane, or any stupid plan. She knew she would have to see the creepy healer before she could use the portkey, or Maman would be livid. Gabrielle stomped over to the chest, which did not really work with one foot clad only in a sock, and peeled the paper backing from the black disk. She intended to drop the W-hole onto the top of the evil chest, whose rivets conveyed a mix of anger and dismay, but it slipped from her fingers and fell.

Gabrielle hurled herself back, legs splaying to the side. Definitely not the best idea for a prank! She stumbled backwards into Soleil, who raised his head suddenly in surprise, lifting Gabrielle high into the air. The black rubbery disk landed on the front edge of the alarmed chest, sliding down the front with a nasty sizzling sound, and stopping when it reached what was now half a toad. Gabrielle landed on her backside much closer to the sundered chest than she wanted.

Dozens of horrified beady black eyes and brass rivets watched Gabrielle as she got back off the floor again. "I'm sorry!" blurted Gabrielle. Certainly she had not intended to hurt, eh, kill the poor toad, but even the damage to the chest was more than she had intended. Although, was there even such a thing as a polite magically gouged hole?

Gabrielle once more drew out the rustic wand with its alleged metacore. She retreated from the disapproving stares, then leapt forward, jabbing the wand at the chest, "Accio Harry's stupid thing!"

Nothing even twitched in the depths of the bisected chest. There had to a powerful ward or something still protecting the contents, thought Gabrielle, though a different thought suggested an equally likely possibility, since it had heard, "Accio Habby's stubid thig!" due to the swelling of her nose.

Gabrielle tried several more times, but the stumbling block was "cub". The remembered glimpse of teeth and her childhood trauma made her really dread the idea of reaching into the chest directly. There did not seem to be another option though. The varied toads gathered together, and set themselves at an expectant angle. Gabrielle had not anticipated having an audience. If they only knew how hard this was, thought Gabrielle as she looked at them. At least they were Albanian toads - who would they tell? That certainly took the pressure away, though for some reason Nona's dour face popped into Gabrielle's head.

Her squat, damp audience, Gabrielle realized, were not really looking at her, but her handbag. That was a talent in itself, touted a proud thought, considering the general beadiness of the dark eyes and their limited stereoscopic vision. It was not a particularly valuable talent, she had to admit, but it gave her a hint. Gabrielle slid her finger along the top of the soft liner of the handbag to unseal it, and brought out Poisseux.

The assembled toads cheered Poisseux's appearance, with as much enthusiasm in the tiny jerks and twitches as Gabrielle had ever seen. The faux toad did not acknowledge the throng, but focussed pointedly on the remains of his fallen minion.

"Id, eh, was an accidend. And I hab addoligized already," said Gabrielle hurriedly. Then, slightly put out that a Bad Toad was making her feel even more guilty, Gabrielle decided to assert herself. "Ged the cub! Eh, if id is, eh, safe." After all, the spellotape toad was her second oldest pet. He was also, technically, already dead, so Gabrielle thought it was probably safe. She held him by his longer rear legs, and eased Poisseux into the interior of the chest.

Nothing happened. This was probably due to the fact that a toad's longer rear legs are only longer in comparison to their front legs, which means that they are not very long at all. Poisseux could not reach. Or did not want to. He might just be petulant, thought Gabrielle. At the other end of the wand, though, he had really wanted that cup before.

Gabrielle reached into her pocket this time, bringing out the amazing muggle knife, which could, eh, be transfigured, in the muggle way, into pliers. With the ridged metal jaws gripping Poisseux's feet, Gabrielle pushed the zombie toad further into the distressed-looking chest. Another guilty thought wondered if her pet really did not feel pain. She had assumed that he did not since he was made of spellotape, but she knew she had not bothered to check.

Pepi-Z, her oldest pet, also, in a way, dead, jumped wildly on his thread. This startled Gabrielle much less than the violent sound of an Abraxan kicking something to pieces, which had followed Pepi-Z's warning immediately. That crash was enough that she lost her grip on Poisseux. He disappeared into the shadows within the chest.

One would have to be a silly little girl, decided the Fleur-like thought, to call this escapade anything but a complete fiasco.

v - v - v - v - v

Harry found Ginny laying on the floor of the Abraxan's stall, curled around the remaining firework. Harry could not decide which indicated her condition being worse - the dirty bedding or the hair-trigger explosive she clutched. He knelt down to the stricken redhead, first doing a quick bit of vanishing, and gently lifted her head. "Gin? Are you all right Gin?"

Ginny groaned and covered her eyes with her arm. "I'm fine. Just, just a bit of a headache."

Harry could see now why no one believed him when he said such things. "Ginny, look at me. Are you all right?" He noticed some blood crusting her nose.

"No. If I look then -He- will see."

"What? Who will see?"

"You-Know-Who."

"Erm, no, I don't think I... Oh, uh, right," said Harry. The hope that he had not sounded too dim was quickly replaced by the fear that he, they, had been fatally naive. Why had they convinced themselves that only Wormtail would need to be dealt with? "Ginny, will you be all right here for a bit? I need to find Ron, Hermione, and George, and warn the others."

"I'm all right until Nibbles comes with 'zee famous flying horse'," said Ginny. She sounded better to Harry's ears, but then she winced.

"Nibbles? Oh Merlin, I forgot about her!"

"She'll be near George, you can bet on it," muttered Ginny. "He's close," she added.

"That's good. I think Hermione is still with that professor in the tent. If there wasn't a bloody hole in the ground it'd be dead easy to get there," said Harry.

"Not George - Him. You-Know-Who," corrected Ginny, shaking her head slightly.

"It's Vol-"

"No!" exclaimed Ginny. "Don't say the name. He'll hear."

"I really don't like this," said Harry under his breath.

v - v - v - v - v

The Dark Lord took in the ruined circled carved into the stone. It was an interesting curiosity, and the runes along the edges looked like early incarnations of more familiar ones, but the whole of it was either poorly done or an elaborate sham. He wondered of the wizard whose tower the work had once been part of. Had the circle's creator strove for more, or had he been content to muddle along like the nearly useless drudges above trying to provide the distraction? The skeletal remains carefully stacked to one side provided no clue.

Thinking of distractions led him to one, and Lord Voldemort gave a thought to the gaudy explosions. Those were unlikely to be from his ad hoc allies, who had shown no propensity for independent thought so far. Neither had Pettigrew, but then he was more rat than wizard. Severus was capable of the act, but the ostentatiousness would be out of character. Besides, the potions master had been assigned the profitless task of protecting the witless wand-wavers. No, concluded the Dark Lord with certainty, it was nothing but an amateurish attempt at a diversion. That meant that Potter was trying to make his own move. A situation that required some subtlety, as he did not yet possess his true wand, the Elder Wand. Only then, smiled the Dark Lord as he savored the thought, would Potter be vanquished and his ultimate destiny be obtained. For now, though, a bit more haste.

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle emerged from Stanislaw's tent as Poisseux had emerged from the eviscerated chest: backwards and slowly. This was because she was dragging a reluctant Abraxan and not the prized drinkware. Dragging in the sense that she was pulling on the tether; it was Soleil in the end who decided to advance or not. When it was clear that she was going to leave and take Poisseux with her, his little amphibious followers set themselves at such a plaintive angle that Gabrielle felt sorry for having to abandon them. She tried to explain that she could not carry all of them, knowing, of course, that it was useless since they could not understand. The toads then assembled themselves into an unexpected hoop, each one holding its neighbor's foot in its mouth. The living necklace was around Gabrielle's neck now, and was heavier than one would think and scratchy from tiny claws. Toads, the thought came to Gabrielle, were very troublesome pets.

Gabrielle had done what she could to hide the evidence of her, eh, prank, but there was a limit to what vanishing and a dozen pathetic Reparo spells could do. A thought with more self-esteem amended that to unpracticed Reparo spells. She would of course do better next time. Stanislaw was not stupid, though, so it was time to find Harry Potter. And, more importantly, George. Gabrielle hoped that the portkey was set for Delacour Manor and not Papa's office. If Maman was off to Chamoix for the day, well, a lot of summer holiday could be packed into that day.

First though, she needed to recover her footwear. Which, a second thought was forced to suggest, may not have needed to be a priority. There were still spells flying back and forth, as evidenced by the flashes lighting the sides of the tents. Those were making Soleil nervous, and that was a short broom ride to rampage. Which actually, argued another thought, provided a justification for her actions, though putting one through the hoops over herself was not helpful now. Especially since vanishing away the soil like she had seen done by the wizards working the dig was much, much slower than digging out the trapped iron overshoe and her regular shoe by hand. While she tried once more, Pepi-Z suddenly tugged in her hair, and Soleil reared and flailed his hooves over her. Gabrielle gave up on the magic and yanked her shoes from where they were buried, and action that happily put her further from the rampant Soleil.

"Nicht sie jetzt, Dämon, [2]" grunted the worst possible voice to hear. Gabrielle shut her eyes and cursed silently. It was Stanislaw! It was Stanislaw, and the apron was on the ground next to her, stupidly wrapped around Poisseux and the stolen cup instead of being worn. The quick thought that, from a Ministry point of view, the object had not really ever been his and was, therefore, not actually stolen but merely recovered did not provide any comfort. The Ministry did not reach here and there would be no help for the vandalism in any case. Gabrielle took a steadying breath, and counted on a Veela's smile. Veela-ish smile. Before she could turn, a wall of earth erupted from the ground between her and Soleil.

Gabrielle snatched up the bundled apron and put the dirty shoes on top. Soleil's instincts kicked in and the earthen wall shuddered, sending a rivulet of pebbles and dirt down its flank. She turned to face Stanislaw, buoyed by the thought that Soleil would probably soon start on the tent, which would help hide the evidence. Except for the slightly destroyed chest. Her smile turned to shock; Stanislaw was bleeding badly from a slash at his shoulder. "You are hurd!" she blurted, genuinely concerned. And confused - why would Harry and the others do this?

"Ja. Some schwein is throwing cutting curses and - Merlin's schließmuskel! You are hurt also?" asked Stanislaw, looking at her more closely. Gabrielle had not cleaned the blood from her face.

"Id is notting. Dere were de, eh, explosions, and Soleil..." offered Gabrielle vaguely. Implying was not the same as lying, even if the one was inside the other. She went back to smiling.

"It looks broken. I am looking for old Leistenverletzunger - his elf is not answering. Come along, liebchen," said Stanislaw. He frowned now and sighed as both he and Soleil realized that the tent was more vulnerable. Gabrielle gently explored her nose. It was definitely swollen - was it crooked as well?

"[Tell you what, I'll take it from here,]" announced - George! He had appeared from around the side of the tent. "[All part of the flash life of a beater, you know. I must have fixed Fred's beak a hundred times.]" Was there a hint of firewhiskey?

Gabrielle took a moment to work out how she could tell George that there was no need to worry, that they would soon be in France and near Paris where the healers were amazing and sympathetic. Without, of course, sounding too much like Allie. What she got out was, "Aiee!" That was because George took the very same moment to pinch the end of Gabrielle's nose between his thumb and forefinger, and then, with a tap of his wand, to stretch her nose suddenly to three times its normally demure length. That was a painful surprise, but not as painful as when he let it snap back.

Gabrielle found words easier to come by now. "['Ave you lost your senses?! Zat 'urt! Very much!]" And it had, but it did not now. In fact, a cautious probe revealed that the swelling had gone. "[Eh, I, eh, was not ready,]" she added sheepishly.

"[You would prefer that prat and his mallet? A little knock like that is nothing to see a healer about,]" said George. "[That gash now...]" He turned to look at Stanislaw's wound more closely, and Gabrielle wished that she had not spoken so sharply. She wished that she had been more grateful, and maybe just a little more pathetic, so George would still be comforting her. Would start comforting her, corrected a disappointed thought.

Still, he was here, so Gabrielle did not want to lose him. "[Can you, eh, help Herr Sammlermacher?]"

"[Poo-tetra. I could do something about the bleeding, sure, but a healer would have a better go at closing it up right,]" said George.

A hoof the size of a dustbin lid punched through the compacted dirt of the wall. Stanislaw offered a tired smile. "Stay with your friend, liebchen. Take the Abraxan back to his stall, and find somewhere to hide. The remaining barn, perhaps, if you can avoid burning it down."

The barb should have bothered Gabrielle more, but she had transfigured 'friend' to 'boyfriend' in her head. If even Stanislaw could see it, then it must be obvious to everyone else. She did not have to worry about George's continued lack of overt devotion. His heart was still hers! She looked up at George and smiled warmly with the thought, then slipped her arm around her future husband's. The unsuspecting groom, still not displaying any sign of his otherwise obvious love, nor any sign that he noticed her approach, turned abruptly and jostled Gabrielle. The shoes and the apron, and what the apron was bundled around, fell from where the arm not occupied with George's failed to hold it. "Merde!" exclaimed Gabrielle, forgetting the romance of the moment.

"[Sorry luv. Nice toads by the way,]" said George. "[No doubt you know what the excitement's about?]" He bent down to pick up the fallen items.

"[Non! Leave zem!]" blurted Gabrielle. "[I, eh, I will get zem.]" She pulled at his arm, but it was too late. George straightened up holding the shoes and the apron. What the apron held tumbled onto the ground.

"Was ist das?" Asked Stanislaw, surprised by what Poisseux was once more determinedly dragging away.

"Oh, eh, there you are Poisseux! Bad toad!" bluffed Gabrielle. She reached for her pet at the same time Stanislaw, wincing, reached for the cup. Each came up with what they intended; a tap from the curse-breaker's wand separated the two. Gabrielle feigned relief instead of showing the disappointment she felt.

Stanislaw did not look convinced. Especially after listening pointedly to the commotion behind his conjured wall. "We will speak of this later, Fräulein Delacour."

Gabrielle did not worry about his ominous words for several reasons. One was that she still had the letter from Papa and the portkey. It could be a very long time before they spoke of it. Another reason was the pleased look on George's face, as if he had figured out what she had done. A more immediate reason was the disappearance of the solid dirt wall, once Stanislaw was well away, that had contained the now very annoyed Soleil. The final reason was the smaller figure that almost seemed to waft up and out of the expedition's dig. The boy struck the retreating curse-breaker with a spell. Gabrielle could see new wounds open up as Stanislaw fell.

"Oh bugger," said George, who was looking instead at a lathered Abraxan with spread wings and fiery, mad eyes.

Gabrielle nearly shouted, nearly screamed, but her brain forced a memory to the fore. Run, her thoughts urged her, except the same memory that showed her the danger froze her in fear. "Ti - Tibault!" blurted Gabrielle, much to the disappointment of her higher functions. He had come for her! He had come to take revenge!

The boy turned at her exclamation, both, it seemed, abruptly and reluctantly. There was now no doubt in Gabrielle's mind. It was the same awful Tibault Granecole who had attacked Natuche, only alive and well and not at all dying from a unicorn goring. And he had a wand at the ready. This time Gabrielle did scream as her former victim's face lit with recognition.

Dual pops echoed in the air. George stole a glance at the agonized curse-breaker even as the equine doom nearer to him bellowed. He gave Soleil a mischievous grin. "[Well Sunshine, come on if you think you're hard enough.]"

1 Little one, you must stay with the colt. And you listen to the toads.

2 Not now, Demon.