CHAPTER 47: A PRINCE'S DILEMMA

Harry remained skeptical of the news, convinced without needing to know more that Dumbledore could indeed have a role in this story. The reopening of the tournament was already strange to him, especially since he seemed to recall reading somewhere that Dumbledore had been one of its ardent promoters in the past, so why recreate it? Part of him thought that in any case, Dumbledore's actions had never been logical so far, at least not in the basic logic of the average person, but rather in that of a centennial wizard whose little machinations escaped ordinary mortals. But another part, perhaps more suspicious, imagined that this tournament was just another step in a perfectly oiled plan by Hogwarts' headmaster, for a reason known only to himself... or simply the result of chance. But had the events in the magical world in recent times been mere chance? An Azkaban breakout, a World Cup spoiled by Death Eaters still at large, a Triwizard Tournament appearing out of nowhere, and above all, his half-brother participating without meeting the age requirement... No, unless chance struck much too frequently, these things must, to a greater or lesser extent, be connected. The question remained about Dumbledore's involvement or, to a much greater extent, Voldemort's involvement in this matter, and Harry had the intuition that they were not strangers to it.

"I don't know anything more about it," Remus continued as Harry regained the thread of the conversation. "I assume your brother also passed the task, but no news has leaked to the press. The newspapers prefer to headline the successes of Muggle battles and the involvement of some wizarding regiments in them. Yours has been often mentioned in their columns... I hope you'll give us more juicy details in the future."

"Not sure about juicy, but more informative than the newspapers, I think I can manage that," his godson replied, nodding his head. "Shall we go see my uncle now? I think everyone must be aware of my presence by now, so let's not keep them waiting. Come on!"

Harry was about to climb the main staircase, which provided direct access to the grand salon where the guests and his family were supposed to be, but as soon as he set foot on the first step, he noticed that Rosie, Astoria, and Remus hadn't followed him and were standing a few steps behind him.

"Aren't you coming? Come on, His Highness is a bit rough, but he's never eaten anyone!"

But not one of them made a move toward him, which irritated him even more.

"What? Is there a problem?" he said, frowning. "Is there something I should know before going up?"

"Gabriel... I... I can't follow you," Remus replied after a few moments, hesitating. "That's why I preferred to wait for you outside."

"But... why can't you? Shouldn't you be inside with the others?" Harry asked curiously.

Remus's mood seemed to drop several levels in a second, and intrigued, Harry now wondered if there had been some family quarrels in his absence.

"Your... Your uncle insisted on having a conversation with your mother in a more intimate, more family setting, if I may say so," he began, trying to reassure his nephew with a slight smile. "Their discussion was not meant to be overheard by indiscreet ears, especially by people he doesn't trust. So, I was... I was asked to leave. But it's not a big deal!" he added hastily in the face of Harry's expression. "You know that political matters don't interest me..."

"That's not a reason," Harry cut him off. "You're here as a guest and a relative, and moreover, you're my godfather, which legitimizes your presence in a family gathering."

"What Remus doesn't want to tell you is that our uncle doesn't trust people as soon as they are not worthy enough in his eyes to hold a conversation with him, and that goes through noble titles or social status," added Rosie in a serious tone. "Remus is neither a noble nor a person of quality, nor someone who can have any influence on individuals who can serve his majesty's interests, which makes him undesirable. Moreover, if he learned that he is a werewolf, I wouldn't give much for his skin; already he doesn't have a high opinion of wizards..."

"That's about it," Remus admitted without appearing upset.

"And Mother said nothing?!" Harry exclaimed.

"You'll be surprised at how people can change according to the social status of their interlocutor," his godfather replied. "To put it simply, your mother, in the presence of the king, finds herself again in the role of a courtier that she had when she lived in Versailles; to please and attract the favor of the powerful to obtain some interest or another. But don't blame her; she has spent her whole life in this world where advantages were gained by managing to be in the good graces of a king, a minister, or a favorite."

"Yes, but still..." grumbled his godson. "And Mom? Was she also expelled?" "Lily had better luck than me insofar as your mother can easily pass her off as a lady's companion," Remus told him. "Your uncle would never have thought your mother capable of taking an untitled woman to such a position, so he didn't ask a single question about her. And I think she perfectly understood that you wouldn't have appreciated seeing your other mother excluded from a private conversation that might concern you, so she would have surely defended her." "Well, I don't appreciate being excluded either," retorted Harry, his voice angry. "Come on, Remus, let's not keep my dear uncle waiting!"

With determined steps, he climbed the multiple stairs, Remus and the other two following after a moment of hesitation. On the first-floor landing, he noticed the presence of other courtiers of the king, also not invited to this meeting. However, if he was ready to challenge his uncle's refusal, Harry also had no intention of turning his lounge into an open house for everyone. Besides, these same courtiers seemed too preoccupied with finding a way to eavesdrop at the doors rather than paying attention to him. But as he approached the entrance doors, heavily guarded by a man in court attire, they turned their heads toward Harry. Realizing who he was, they respectfully nodded for the men and curtsied for the ladies. One of them nearly stumbled in surprise, and while Rosie hid behind her fan giggling, Harry responded by slightly inclining his head, though the corners of his mouth stretched for a brief moment.

"Whom shall I announce?" asked the man, pompously, evidently not recognizing Harry as the homeowner.

"Must I announce myself in my own home now?" Harry replied as courteously as possible.

"Oh..." the man stuttered, losing his assurance. "Forgive me, sir, I didn't know... Could... Could you provide your title so I may inform His Majesty?"

"His Serene Highness, the Prince of Lamballe," he introduced himself, inclining his head slightly.

The man apologized, then opening the two doors leading to the lounge, he stepped aside, standing at attention while announcing Harry's title. His entrance was met with a heavy and particularly unpleasant silence as all eyes turned toward him. Becoming the center of attention, Harry immediately headed toward the center of the room, his head uncovered and his gaze fixed solely on the king, who, for his part, didn't bother to rise to greet him. Briefly, he greeted his two mothers with a smile—one seated in an armchair with a teacup in hand, the other standing behind her, hands crossed in front of her nervously crumpled dress. His godmother, the Marquise de Tourzel, was also present, wearing a tender smile upon seeing him approach, but there was no sign of the Delacours or other members of the Greengrass family; evidently, Harry would have to do without their presence for the year-end festivities.

The rest of the occupants were mostly unfamiliar to Harry, at least among the courtiers gathered behind the king and his family. However, having been obliged to know by heart the various individuals comprising the Bourbon family tree, he managed, with more or less ease, to put a name to each face, whether male or female, young or old, affable or uninviting.

The Venus Lounge had seldom been as lively and animated since he lived there, and the presence of these illustrious individuals lent an unusual solemnity to this otherwise much quieter place. Nevertheless, in terms of liveliness, everything seemed to shatter upon his appearance because the heavy tension that filled the room would have made anyone retreat—a temptation that gripped him with every step he took, especially considering the gaze his uncle, Louis-Xavier, directed at him, silently informing him that the upcoming hour would be eventful for him. But for the moment, everyone was rather waiting for Harry to deign to speak, which he did immediately after bowing before the king.

"Sire," he said once he raised his head. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Please believe that I am sorry for making you wait for so long, but I would have hurried on the road had I heard that you honored us with your presence."

"My dear Gabriel, I cannot fault you as even your own mother was unaware of this escapade," he replied as Harry glanced briefly at the rest of the royal family. "But I understand the feelings that drive you towards me, so be assured of the judgment I hold for you."

Harry then offered a polite smile before, as customary, respectfully greeting his wife, Queen Marie-Josephine of Savoy—a woman who certainly didn't stand out for her beauty—the Count of Artois, brother of King Charles-Philippe, and the latter's son, the Duke of Angouleme, Louis-Antoine, and his wife Marie-Therese, Harry's own cousin and the only surviving child of the last reigning king, Louis XVI. The young woman was distant and did not smile, responding only with a slight nod to his greeting, but Harry couldn't blame her. Permanently marked by the trials encountered in her youth, one could hardly expect bursts of cheerfulness from her, especially toward a second cousin whom she had never met. Yet, despite everything, Harry felt a sympathy for her, with pity undoubtedly playing a role.

"How far away it seems when you celebrated your eleventh birthday, my boy," his uncle remarked, almost tenderly. "What a handsome young man you've become! Your father would be proud of the honor you bring him by shining so brightly with your exploits."

"You'll have to inform me of how these exploits reached you because, unfortunately for me, I haven't had the chance to hear about them or even know them yet," Harry politely responded when he refocused his attention on the king. "As for my father, I dare not admit to you that it takes next to nothing to shine more brightly than him in the minds of our fellow citizens. The only activity in which he excelled is presently forbidden to me, but I have no doubt about catching up when the opportunity arises for my fiancée and myself."

Giggles echoed from all corners of the room at the innuendo, and far from offending his mother, Harry noticed that Marie-Louise herself smiled softly at his words; her husband's infidelities were now a distant memory over which she preferred to laugh.

"I have no doubt," reassured his uncle, taking a sip from his cup. "The men of our family have always had excellent abilities in that matter, and I am certain that you will honor your blood and your wife when the occasion presents itself."

For a moment, Harry almost laughed but managed to maintain composure. His uncle daring to put the words "honor" and "wife" in the same sentence seemed indecent, especially considering that for many years, he had scorned his own wife and had felt obliged to take numerous mistresses. The king was right about one thing: the Bourbons were known for having more than one woman in their beds, but Harry was certainly not going to continue that humiliating tradition towards the unfortunate ones marrying him. Daphne was his future wife, and he would honor her in his way by being faithful to her.

A sudden fatigue then tingled in his legs, and eager to sit down quickly, Harry was tempted to take a seat on the chair next to his mother's. However, the reality of the Etiquette immediately caught up with him; in the presence of the king and unless invited by him, nobody could sit. Nevertheless, his step towards the seat did not escape the king's notice, and with a smile, he urged Harry to sit comfortably, claiming that after all his exploits, he must be very tired. Weary but willing to make a good impression, his nephew immediately complied with the request and accepted the steaming cup handed to him the moment the king ordered someone to serve Harry. Remus, Rosie, and Astoria, although entering just after him, were, for their part, royally ignored by those present. Hence, nobody objected to their standing behind Marie-Louise's armchair.

"Although your concern deeply touches me, I have no doubt that you have come here in the company of all these charming individuals to inquire about a situation that concerns only Daphne and me," Harry resumed, looking straight into the king's eyes and once he had taken a sip of tea. "This place is protected by numerous magical protections that prevent any external intrusion without the approval of the residents of this place. To have reached here, it seems obvious that you have enjoyed complicity within these walls, and judging by the trinkets that some of your attendants have not bothered to hide, displacement runes have been used to gather you all here. We'll need to investigate this, Mother," he added, turning to Marie-Louise. "I dislike the thought of being spied upon in our own home."

His mother simply nodded as he placed his cup down. A glance towards his uncle informed him of the sudden loss of cheer on his face, replaced by the seriousness characteristic of him when about to discuss a matter important to his interests.

"To summon a part of your Court, the matter must be serious enough to avoid beating around the bush and get straight to the point," Harry proposed, never averting his eyes from him.

"Always so perceptive, my dear Gabriel," the king replied, smirking slightly. "If there's one thing that differentiates you from your father, it's the intelligence you exhibit in every circumstance."

Far from appearing shocked, Harry instead nodded in agreement with Louis XVIII's words. However, he refrained from making any comment, knowing full well that the discussion was only just beginning.

"My visit, of course, does not have the sole purpose of seeing your mother and you once again, although it is always pleasant to get news from you. But I could have inquired about these by simple correspondence, and frankly, the current circumstances make it difficult for me to establish communication with you. My approach is not devoid of goodwill towards you, but as you know, Sir, the current political context requires us to be interested in everything, particularly the actions of the ruling power in this country... The latest war has only just ended, and like everyone else, we have closely followed its progress, hoping... let's say... that things go in favor of our interests."

By "interests," the king undoubtedly referred to those against whom Harry had fought, and more certainly, the ramifications of a hypothetical defeat of the French against their enemies. A failure of the emperor, and all enemy armies could have swooped down on France, overthrowing Napoleon and reinstating Louis XVIII on the throne. But that possibility had shattered with the defeat at Austerlitz.

"It has been brought to our attention that your presence has been observed on numerous occasions on European terrains alongside Monsieur Bonaparte's armies," he continued after a few seconds. "This news surprised many, believe me: a young man of nearly seventeen, son of a long line of princes and kings, apparently fighting for a man against those whom he could have supported."

All eyes were now turned toward him, and Harry suppressed the urge to swallow nervously in the face of the coldness displayed by some.

"Sire, without questioning your memory, it seems to me that you were aware of my entry into the 4th Hussar Regiment even before I became a student at this academy," Harry reminded him in a polite tone. "Therefore, my presence alongside my regiment comrades should not surprise you."

"That you were a student at this academy did not bother us until now, but that you take up arms to defend the interests of an usurper to the detriment of those of your family was not a scenario we had envisaged," replied the king in the same tone. "There is now much talk in the European courts about your sudden sympathy towards the Corsican, to the point that some gossip now believes that the Bourbons no longer have any vision of reclaiming the throne of France that was usurped from us. That a prince of the blood should wage war alongside this man seems an incongruous idea for many people, and some do not hesitate to openly speak of treachery towards you or to slander your mother."

"I remind you that I am only from a bastard branch of the Bourbons as the great-grandson of the late Louis XIV. Only your actions and your word are assurances of good faith in the eyes of European monarchies, not mine. No court concerns themselves with the actions of a young prince with no real power who tries by his own means to restore the reputation of his family by being known for his bravery and worth, not by the amount of money he possesses. If my actions cause you harm, believe me when I assure you of the sincerity of my regret, but unfortunately, I cannot shirk my responsibilities so easily."

Harry thought his audacity might earn him a reprimand from his uncle, and a glance toward his mother confirmed her disapproval of his manner. But contrary to what he believed, the king simply nodded again, seemingly approving of his words.

"I did not come here to reproach you aloud for the rebukes made by crowned heads you probably have never met," calmly informed the king. "Nor am I here to reproach your... relationships. That you fight for him concerns me little, as long as it does not encroach upon your loyalties. Am I right to believe that you aspire to the same goal as your mother? The return of your family to the throne of France, isn't that, in the short term, a shared hope between you?"

Harry briefly glanced at Marie-Louise, doubtful about the king's statements regarding his mother's sentiments. Did she truly want to see him back on the throne and play the role of a mere courtier in hopes of gaining favors? But then, why enroll him in an academy led by an Emperor's faithful? Why make so much effort to clear his name and be accepted again by the country's authorities? Why return to this country at all, rather than continuing to roam the roads of Europe to follow the king into exile? In this case, Harry preferred to believe that the king was fabricating things and that nothing was true, but a doubt persisted.

"Faithfulness and duty to my sovereign are two notions that Madame my mother instilled in me long ago," he affirmed, feeling more indebted to the emperor and the army than to an uncle he had met only a few times. "My duty to the emperor led my sword to strike the cavalry charging us at Austerlitz, but my heart lamented in fear at the thought of causing harm to Your Highness, and if she is pained by my actions, let her tell me, and I will act accordingly."

The king said nothing, instead, he fixed a lingering gaze on him, as if weighing the pros and cons of his words, or perhaps just trying to unravel the truth from the false. Then, probably thinking that Harry could not lie to him, he calmly resumed sipping his tea with relish.

"As I told you, your participation in the latest European campaign does not concern me," he continued. "I am, however, pleased to see you return safely to your own, and I have no doubt that you aspire to more intimate reunions in the company of your mother and sister. But before we get to that, I'd like to address one point with you. Have you, yes or no, been approached by the little corporal proclaiming himself emperor, and have you even become one of his confidants?"

"Sire, it has indeed happened that I have been in close proximity to him, but only in the exercise of my duties within my regiment. Emperor... Bonaparte exchanged a few words with me, but I can assure you I am not in his good graces," Harry affirmed.

"Rumors, however, circulate that Bonaparte seeks to invite you more often than necessary to his side, that there have even been sightings of you at the Tuileries in his company, that your presence in the hussar regiment you represent might open the doors of his palaces for you," Louis XVIII began before being interrupted by Harry.

"What, then, do you recommend?" he inquired incredulously. "Abandon my career goals to please gossipmongers? That I confine myself continually in this castle to wait for a hypothetical return of the Bourbons to the throne of France? To change my stance to better betray Bonaparte when he finds himself in a weak position?"

"Absolutely not," his uncle replied calmly. "On the contrary, I want you to continue to regain favor with this man."

To Harry's surprise, Louis XVIII appeared pleased with the direction the conversation was taking. He took a few seconds to speak again, seemingly relishing his vis-à-vis's stunned expression:

"That you are labeled a traitor by our allies concerns me little because I do not see things that way. Given your age, you did not have to endure the terrible horrors of the revolution that overthrew the throne of my late brother, and you were probably too young to remember the flight of thousands of French loyal to the monarchy when the Convention decided on the systematic eradication of all those sympathetic to it. Consequently, you do not harbor hatred towards the men at the helm of France, nor do you feel the same desire for revenge that animates us all. Although she sought to put on a good face in recent years, I remain convinced that your mother harbors an unspeakable anger towards the authorities of this country for the degrading treatment she suffered during those years and the fate reserved for her dear friend."

All eyes immediately turned towards her, and although she did not reveal anything, the king's words seemed to have affected her as much as a knife stirring in a barely healed wound.

"We have been harboring our resentment against a power that usurped ours for years, one that caused so much pain and misery to our families and did not hesitate to trample upon everything established for centuries by our family," he continued, fixing one of the servants so he would pour him another cup of tea. "It's been five years now since I was kindly invited by your mother to attend your eleventh birthday meal, and I did not then think that you could be the instrument of our vengeance, that by you, we could seek reparation for the damages suffered. I even thought that you would never fight, and that Bonaparte would delight in humiliating our family by confining you to subordinate positions within his army. But it turns out I was wrong. I had not taken into account the determining factor in the equation regarding you: Your intelligence."

Surprised, Harry raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the sudden astonishment that had just arisen in him.

"Oh yes," the king continued, clearly enjoying the effect he had just caused in his nephew, "I would never have thought, and you will forgive my lack of trust and faith in you, that you would become such an important element so quickly at your academy, and more generally, within the political machinery that surrounds you, and of which you don't even suspect the existence."

"I unfortunately do not follow, Your Majesty," Harry replied incredulously. "I am but a soldier among many others, perhaps more successful than my academy comrades, but who, in battle, is no more important than his fellow soldier, the son of a peasant..."

"That's where you're mistaken, my dear Gabriel," Louis XVIII countered. "Your participation in the recent campaign is not insignificant, and my spy within Bonaparte's government is categorical about this: The Emperor wanted you to participate and ordered your academy director to incorporate you into his regiment. Your Lieutenant Colonel did not really consider such a possibility, but Bonaparte somehow forced his hand by threatening to deny him command of your regiment if he persisted in not taking you with him. You see, this man attaches great importance to the quality of his troops and demands a monthly report on the best elements of his various regiments... with the aim of having excellent officers by his side later on. He has had a file on your name for some years now."

For his part, Harry was speechless, thousands of absurd thoughts swarming in his head. So, his participation in the war wasn't a coincidence but stemmed from an external will to his regiment? So, every move of his was being watched and files compiled about him? So, ultimately, he was just a pawn in a chess game whose full extent he didn't know but was evidently an important piece to be played? But for what purpose, and above all, why?

"What purpose would the Emperor have to force my superior to take me with him?" he asked, although he slightly suspected the answer.

"I thought that would be obvious to you," his uncle declared. "A prince of blood, fighting among common people for a man from that same populace, without any command function and obeying men who could have once submitted to his own will... Do you still not see? Because you are you, Gabriel, a prince from the noble and respected Bourbon family, descended from illustrious monarchs who shaped this country, and who today fights against other respectable monarchies on behalf of a little corporal proclaiming himself emperor. You are a banner, Gabriel, you represent to Bonaparte the perfect illustration of a new era where the old established order is trampled by those who want to build a new society where blood purity and nobility mean nothing, a society where everyone is equal, where the hierarchy of the three estates that shaped this country no longer has a place. Your superhuman feats have attracted Bonaparte's attention, but even more so, your status as a prince added to these make you an important element of his propaganda. The assassination of the Duke of Enghien was meant to show that he would stop at nothing to secure power at the expense of the old French families, and the interest he holds in you has no other objective than to illustrate his power over them."

"And... my participation in Austerlitz was therefore just another step in using my image..." Harry confirmed, disappointed.

His uncle responded with a nod as silence settled again. Harry didn't know what to think anymore: was his life meant for nothing more than being constantly used in someone else's political machinations? Couldn't he, just for once, believe that what happened to him was the result of chance and not the decision of another? Was it so hard, after all, to have a normal life? For once, he almost regretted surpassing his academy comrades; perhaps, with that, he would have never attracted the Emperor's attention. But could it also be that his uncle was lying to him? Could he go to such lengths to question his loyalty to Bonaparte? Duty to family or loyalty to the Emperor... A cruel dilemma presented itself to him.

"I would like to know the identity of the person who informed you of this, for perhaps he is deceiving you, Your Majesty," he said, trying to keep the turmoil inside him to himself.

"I would prefer that not be known," he replied. "When we have an interesting card in hand, it is best to keep it as long as possible, waiting to play it when we are sure to win the game. I can only tell you that you have already met him, perhaps briefly yes, but you have already been in contact with him. You might even be meeting him again very soon if your exploits in Moravia reach Bonaparte; this person is very influential with him."

"How can you be sure of that? I did nothing that could be considered an exploit during that battle," he countered.

"Remember who you are, and you will understand why I remain convinced that you will soon be solicited by Bonaparte," his uncle replied. "That's why I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"What is it, Your Majesty?" he asked, curiosity back in his tone. "An order from you, and I will obey, as you know."

"Your soon-to-be closeness with Bonaparte will be useful to us, so I will be frank with you: spy on him and report to us every single one of his actions, however small, that could serve our purposes."

"So, you would like me to play the spy for you with the Emperor?" he said after a few seconds of silence. "Do you think I will be quick to betray the trust he has in me by informing you of his every action to harm him?"

"Exactly," Louis XVIII replied, nodding briefly. "You know as well as I do where your interest lies, Mr. Gabriel, and it goes without saying that you attach more importance to the family ties that bind us than to the fragile alliance that ties you to the little Corsican."

"What do you expect me to report to you in our correspondence?" Harry asked incredulously. "I don't think I will be close enough to the Emperor in the coming months or years to inform you about his privacy, and if I'm not mistaken, you have your own spy keeping you informed of Mr. Bonaparte's latest actions..."

"But unlike our spy, you will be closest to Bonaparte's battles and troops," the Duke of Artois interjected, speaking for the first time. "Any information you consider relevant about troop movements, formations, strength, and the organization of Bonaparte's army relayed to our allies on the eve of a battle will be equally valuable to ours, and will earn you the king's esteem if it ever allows us to ascend to the throne of France again. Madame la Marquise de Tourzel here has already accepted our proposal, and it will be all the easier for her to gain the favor of Bonaparte's wife, since she is more and more urgently inviting her to keep her company."

Harry glanced at his godmother, but she merely confirmed the prince's words with a slight nod, though she seemed almost ashamed.

"What about the risks Gabriel is taking for you?" Remus asked, sounding troubled. "What would happen if, by misfortune, his activity was discovered by the Emperor or his advisors?"

Addressed as he was, the king turned to Harry's godfather, sporting the most disdainful look possible. Despite the warning glances from his godson, Remus had crossed a red line that could bring him serious trouble, and his uncle by marriage's face was as readable as an open book to realize it.

"Rein in this gentleman, will you?" he said, turning to Marie-Louise. "I cannot accept a man addressing me in such a way, especially when he is not invited to converse in our company. This discussion concerns only princes of blood, and it does not seem to me that you are one."

"As for the risks he is taking, haven't I previously praised his intelligence?" he continued. "I remain convinced that you will do all this with the utmost discretion, Sir. After all, it is in the interest of your family, and family comes before everything, doesn't it? So, what do you choose, Gabriel?"

That was the question.

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