Chapter 22
"Language" – conversation French/any other language depends on the speaker
"Language" – normal conversation in English
Language – thought
It's human nature. We're predisposed to taking things, and people, for granted. We don't care enough. Maybe we never did. We simply know they're there, and we expect them to stay that way, always available to us.
Until that something, or someone, is truly gone. In this case, it was the horse-drawn carriages—or rather, the absence of them.
It took the group nearly forty minutes to reach Hogsmeade. The journey would have taken fifteen minutes at most by carriage. The slippery path, the biting cold, and the fact that Hogsmeade was perched atop a small hill all contributed to the arduous trek. Late autumn was settling over Scotland, and winter was just around the corner.
The Durmstrang boys displayed remarkable resilience.
They were all gasping for breath when they finally reached the edge of Hogsmeade. Climbing the hill had been a brutal effort. The plumes of vapor billowing from their mouths were so thick, one might have mistaken them for a steam train about to chug through the peaceful village.
Harry himself had to stop, struggling to catch his breath. He'd never felt so exhausted. Of course, he was back in his fourteen-year-old body, and after years of neglect and abuse, it wasn't exactly in peak condition. It was also possible he was still feeling the after effects of his duel with Barty. His mind was willing, but his body was staging a revolt.
Raphael, noticing Harry bent over with his hands on his knees, looked concerned. "Are you alright, 'Arry?" he asked, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry nodded slowly, straightening up. "I'm okay," he said, still panting heavily. "I'll be fine."
"You look completely winded," Raphael observed.
Harry glanced around. The others looked tired, but none of them seemed as utterly spent as he was.
"Don't worry about me," Harry said. "We got here in one piece. That's all that matters."
"We should find somewhere to rest," one of Raphael's friends suggested. "He looks terrible."
Harry understood the boy's words but remained silent.
"Agreed," Raphael said, nodding. He turned to Harry, his hand still resting on Harry's shoulder. "Come, 'Arry. Let's find a place to sit and maybe 'ave a drink or two. We can continue zhe tour after zhat. Do you know anywhere we could do zhat?"
"Yeah, I know a place," Harry replied, pointing down the lane that bisected Hogsmeade. "Up ahead. The Three Broomsticks Inn."
"Zhen let's go," Raphael said, slipping his hand under Harry's armpit to help him along.
But Harry shrugged Raphael's hand away. "I can walk," he insisted.
And so, they continued down the mostly deserted lane. Hogsmeade wasn't bustling with activity; few people were doing their holiday shopping. Shoppers likely preferred Diagon Alley, with its much wider selection. Besides, it was already late afternoon.
They arrived at Madam Rosmerta's inn a few minutes later. As Harry stepped inside, he suddenly realized he had another problem.
He was practically broke.
Well, not entirely. He had a few knuts and sickles rattling around in his pocket—bless those house-elves for not emptying them out when they washed his clothes. But most of his money was safely tucked away in his trunk back in the dormitory. He usually only carried a larger sum during official Hogsmeade visits or when ordering something by owl post. He didn't need it within the castle walls. He quickly pulled out the coins and started counting, hoping he had enough for at least a small butter beer. He could always eat dinner back at the Great Hall. He'd be in trouble, though, if Raphael and his friends decided to dine in Hogsmeade.
Raphael saw Harry counting his coins while they were queuing at the counter. "Put away your money, 'Arry," he said. "Zhe drinks are on me."
But Harry shook his head. "No, I can't have you do that. Don't worry, I'll manage," he said, returning to his coins.
"'Arry, I invited you and you come wiz us at a great risk. I do not forget. Drinks are on me, all around."
And true to his words, Raphael proceeded to order and paid for all their drinks.
Though it was the weekend, the inn was surprisingly quiet. The group selected an unoccupied table near the window and settled in. They spent the afternoon enjoying drinks and lively conversation, allowing Harry to get to know his companions better.
Harry felt a surge of energy as soon as the butter beer touched his lips.
"Zhiz iz good," said Pierre, as he put down his half empty mug of mulled mead. He was the one who pointed out Harry's bad condition earlier. "Zhis iz better zhan any ozher mead I ever drink somewhere else. Zhey made zhis zhemselves? I mean right 'ere? Zhey don't juz buy zhe whole crate from any ozher brewery?"
"As far as I know, all drinks sold here are made locally," said Harry, taking a sip of his butter beer. Raphael refused to buy him stronger drinks due to the fact that he was underage, something that Harry didn't refute.
Pierre nodded impressively. "I could get use to zhis," he said, taking another slug of his drink.
"Do you know zhat woman, 'Arry?" asked Sebastian. The boy was eyeing the attractive woman that was working behind the bar all this while.
Harry turned to look. "I know her. We called her Madam Rosmerta. She's quite popular here."
"Iz she married?"
Harry smirked at this.
"Not as far as I know. But don't get your hopes up. Many boys and men are attracted to her. I never saw her with anyone so far."
Sebastian turned to look at Harry. "Really?"
Harry shrugged, taking another sip of his butter beer. "As far as I know."
"Huh. Maybe she 'ad yet met someone she like?" Sebastian postulated. "She will if she found one."
Harry shrugged. "Be my guest, Sebastian. Who knows, you might be right. That lucky person could be you."
Sebastian smiled at this. He then turned back to gaze at Madam Rosmerta.
Raphael chuckled at this. "'E would 'ave wanted Fleur. You remember, our glorious and very pretty Triwizard Champion," he said to Harry. "She ignored 'im."
"Not just Sebastian," added Pierre. "Nearly every boy in zhe school tried. She refused to date just about everyone. I'm not sure what she waz looking for in a man, to be honest."
"I 'eard she iz currently dating someone outside of our school," said Sebastian, now turning his attention back to the group. Madam Rosmerta apparently had disappeared into the back room. "Zhat iz probably why she declined to give any of us a chance."
Harry swallowed hard when he heard this. But he said nothing.
Raphael who was covertly observing Harry asked, "From where you 'eard zhis?"
"From zhis people and zhat people," answered Sebastian. "It iz a rumor zhat 'ave been circling around for a while now,Raphael. Are you sure you 'aven't 'eard of it?"
"I might," replied Raphael.
"I heard that rumors too. If the rumors are true, I would like to know who her boyfriend is. That lucky bastard," said Remy, a thin, dark haired boy who was sitting at the farthest end of the table. He was an American living in Santa Monica. He was previously a student in Ilvermony. He got into Beauxbaton when he enrolled in a student exchange program between Beauxbaton and Ilvermony in his fourth year. He ended up becoming a permanent student in Beauxbaton. He wasn't the only American studying in Beauxbaton. About ten percent of Beauxbaton students were Americans. Many of his childhood friends were still in Ilvermony however. He told Harry that Ilvermony actually requested to participate in the Triwizard Tournament that year but their request was denied.
""I'd love to know too," Sebastian agreed, leaning slightly forward. "Maybe I could pick up a trick or two from 'im," he mused, a hint of aspiration in his voice. "Might even boost my own chances in zhe dating pool if I ever encounter someone as captivating as Fleur." He paused, then continued, "Given 'er undeniable aura, I'm betting 'er boyfriend's already well-established, probably someone on a similar social rung. She iz practically royalty, after all."
"I know, right? Anyway, have any of you taken a look at Fleur lately? She looks different ever since school started," continued Remy.
"I 'ave," said Pierre. "I've been watching 'er ever since we came back to zhe campus from zhe summer break. She looks like she 'ad a complete makeover during zhe summer. I mean 'ow can zhat be possible? I'm sure zhere iz a universal limit of 'ow pretty a girl can get, right?"
"You're 'er cousin, Raphael," said Sebastian. "Can't you tell us anyzhing?"
Raphael who was still quietly observing Harry shook his head. "You mean if she really 'ad a complete makeover during summer? Nope," he replied. "She surprised me as well."
"Not zhat. 'Er boyfriend. Who iz 'er boyfriend? Does she really 'ave one?"
"Sorry. No idea. Did you ask 'er friends? Because if you did ,you are just az clueless az I am," Raphael said apologetically. "She iz very private. You know zhat, right?" He then turned to Harry, "Yes, I am Fleur's cousin, 'Arry. People zhink I am lucky when zhey found zhat out. Many tried to get to 'er through me. Like zhat will work." He then rolled his eyes.
Harry gave Raphael a small smile.
"It will be interesting to see who she iz planning to bring along as a date to zhe Yule Ball," said Pierre.
"Won't be any of us, zhat iz for sure," said Sebastian. "Zhe girls are already talking about zhe Ball. You see zhem comparing dresses and accessories every single time. Zhat not including dozens of mail order arriving at zhe carriage each day. But don't worry. All of us will get a date for zhe Ball. None of us will be single zhat night. Zhe are more girls zhan boys inside zhe carriage currently."
"Yeah but which one of us will get to be Fleur's dancing partner?" asked Remy.
"Zhere iz no need to lose your sleep over zhat question, Remy," said Raphael, smirking at the boy. "Sebastian already answered it." He then gave a pat on Harry's back. "Maybe someone from 'Ogwarts will get lucky, eh 'Arry? I bet 500 francs zhat will 'appen."
"Huh? Are you serious? Because if you do I wanna join," said Remy. "500 francs if she chooses someone from Hogwarts. Another 200 francs if she chooses someone from Durmstrang. Plus 231 francs if she chooses someone from our school."
"Why 231? Why not make it 250 or 300?" asked Pierre, perplexed.
Remy shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel good about that number."
The Beauxbaton boys stared at each other.
"It iz on zhen," said Raphael as he took out the money inside his pocket. "'Ow about we start zhe betting now?"
They departed The Three Broomsticks half an hour later. Harry was eager to share more of Hogsmeade with them, and they visited several popular student spots. These included Honeydukes, renowned for its delectable sweets, and Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, a favorite among couples.
"If you want to see if your other half is cheating on you, this is the place," said Harry, laughing. "Take it from me."
The group spent a considerable amount of time in Zonko's Joke Shop, where Raphael and his friends indulged in a shopping spree. They purchased a variety of items, including Exploding Snap cards, a Trick Wand, Dungbombs, and Frog Spawn Soap. Harry shuddered, imagining the mischievous uses Raphael and his friends might have for the soap.
Later, Harry brought them to the outskirts of Hogsmeade to see the infamous Shrieking Shack. While Raphael and his friends expressed a desire to enter, Harry strongly advised against it.
"Yeah, I won't do that. Something might follow us back and I guarantee you it won't be pretty," he said. "Let just watch the shack from afar."
Harry's claim about the Shrieking Shack was a fabrication. He secretly intended to use the dilapidated building for his own, as-yet-undetermined purposes, and wanted to discourage anyone from venturing inside.
While the boys' attention was fixed on the Shack, Harry's gaze drifted towards the snow-capped mountains in the distance. A footpath snaked towards them, and he suspected Sirius might be hiding in one of the many hidden caves within the range. He knew the area well from his Auror days, recalling the labyrinthine cave systems whose entrances were so effectively concealed.
He imagined his godfather at that very moment, perhaps subsisting on a meager meal of rats or other rodents. Harry remembered their previous encounter, when a Sirius, weakened by months of such a diet, had devoured the food Harry brought with an almost desperate gratitude, even sharing some with Buckbeak. The bones were picked clean, the pumpkin juice flask emptied in seconds, and Sirius had meticulously cleaned every last crumb from his fingers.
A wave of longing washed over Harry. He yearned to visit Sirius, to shower him with all the delicacies Hogsmeade had to offer. He knew Sirius would be grateful, and that his survival depended on the success of Harry's plans.
But Harry was penniless. The money he carried was far from enough for such a feast. And even if he had the funds, he couldn't simply abandon his duties as a tour guide. He was responsible for Raphael and his friends, and any unauthorized absence would raise questions he was unwilling to answer.
As dusk settled, Hogsmeade transformed. The street lamps and festive decorations cast a warm, ethereal glow, mingling with the last rays of the setting sun. The village looked like a magical Christmas card scene.
They had explored nearly every nook and cranny of Hogsmeade, and to Harry's surprise, the Beauxbaton boys were charmed. He had expected them, accustomed to the bustle of Paris and New York, to find the village dull and uninteresting. Instead, they loved it and were already planning a return trip.
"Yes, Paris and New York 'ave so many zhings to offer," commented Pierre. "'Ogsmeade doesn't offer as much. It iz small and it iz out in zhe middle of nowhere but it iz magical. It looks colorful. Everyzhing in it while not zhat many, iz special. I will missed zhe mull mead most of all when I get back 'ome. Now I know why zhe Durmstrang boys keep returning 'ere."
By this time, Harry was feeling hungry. He told the boys that it was time for them to wrap the tour and return to Hogwarts. It was getting dark anyway. But Raphael had other idea.
"Why don't we 'ave our dinner 'ere?" he suggested. "I scrolled through zhe menu while we were drinking at zhe Three Broomstick. Zhe list of food looked appetizing. Not zhat 'Ogswart cooking iz bad but I want to try somezhing local zhat iz made by a 'uman for a change."
Harry's worst fear had materialized. There was no way around it; he had to decline the invitation. He came clean, admitting he didn't have the money for dinner or anything else.
"I'll be eating at the Great Hall," he explained. "My friends are expecting me. You guys go on ahead." He offered a polite, "Good night," and turned to leave.
He was about to walk away from them when Raphael held him back. "Dinner iz on me, 'Arry."
But Harry shook his head. "I can't let you do that. I'm not comfortable with it."
"But I want to," Raphael replied. "It iz not always we get to come 'ere, 'Arry. I really don't mind spending zhe money. Zhanks to you, my friends and I 'ad a lot of fun. Consider zhis as a token ofappreciation from us."
The rest of the Beauxbaton boys beamed at him.
He attempted a protest, but Raphael wouldn't hear of it. Reluctantly, Harry agreed, despite the lingering embarrassment from his earlier confession.
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Harry and Raphael both enjoyed shepherd's pie with a garden salad, while Remy devoured a chicken and ribs platter. Pierre and Sebastian opted for fish and chips, and the other two boys shared a rotisserie chicken smoked platter.
The trek back to Hogwarts took nearly fifty minutes. Without the daylight to guide them, the path from Hogsmeade was treacherous, forcing them to rely on the light from their wands to navigate the slippery ground. They passed a group of Durmstrang boys heading in the opposite direction, some of whom acknowledged Harry. Viktor Krum was noticeably absent.
Just as before, two Aurors stood guard at the Hogwarts gate. Raphael presented their permission slip, and the group was allowed through. The Aurors recognized Harry but made no comment, presumably assuming he was also authorized to be in Hogsmeade.
As he walked past, Harry glanced back at the two Aurors and snorted inwardly. If he were their superior, they would be facing disciplinary action. He fully expected to be stopped, as he had no permission to be in Hogsmeade. Their negligence was astounding.
Yet, a strange paradox arose. Had they done their job properly, Harry would be in serious trouble. It was an absurd situation. He mused that the Aurors, much like their Muggle police counterparts, probably had a weakness for doughnuts.
The group reached the Beauxbaton carriage. Harry said goodnight and was about to head back to the castle when Raphael stopped him again.
"Don't you want to come inside?" he asked. "We could 'ang out a little bit longer."
This took Harry by surprise.
"The carriage? Are you sure about this?" he said in bewilderment. "I'm not allowed to be in there."
"You visited the Durmstrang ship zhis morning," said Raphael.
"That was different. I got a formal on the other hand my friend, will land your arse in a big pile of trouble if Madame Maxime finds out you're trying to smuggle in a student from another school," said Harry firmly.
"You escaped to 'Ogsmeade wiz us," stated Pierre. "Without any permission."
"That's the very definition of 'escape'," Harry pointed out. "You don't exactly ask permission to escape. But this is different. I'm the one who'll be in deep trouble. I've already broken about seventy rules today; they'll probably give me detentions until I'm eighty," Harry sighed. "Not that I care about detentions, but there's a chance one of you could get expelled. Maybe we should try to avoid that."
"Let's make it seventy-one," Remy quipped with a smirk. "That'll bump your detentions up to ninety years."
Harry shot Remy an irritated look.
"Madam Maxime izn't 'ere," Pierre pointed out. "She left zhis afternoon and iz back at our campus in Paris for some errands. She probably will be back only by tomorrow. We only 'ave a warden tonight looking after us and 'e iz a lazy fool. I zhink you will be safe, 'Arry."
Harry declined again, saying, "Regardless, I really shouldn't. As curious as I am to see inside your carriage, I really can't. Besides, it's late, and no one knows I've 'escaped.' My friends will be worried."
He was being truthful. He would have loved to peek inside the carriage, perhaps even catch a glimpse of Fleur. But Raphael and his friends' well-being was more important.
"It iz getting very cold out 'ere," Sebastian interjected. "If you really want to bring 'Arry into our carriage, just grab 'im and bring him in, Raphael. Don't waste your time talking. He will continue to say no, no matter what."
"You're right. Don't worry about us, 'Arry," said Raphael and the others as they grabbed a wide-eyed Harry and began pushing him towards the carriage.
"What?! No!"
Undeterred by his protest, the boys propelled him up the resplendent golden staircase and into the carriage, where Sebastian held the door open.
Harry had visited the Beauxbaton campus several times in the previous timeline, but this was his first experience within one of their renowned carriages. Indeed, the prestigious French wizarding school possessed a fleet of carriages, each of which was as spacious as a house.
As he stepped inside, a familiar sense of grandeur washed over him. He found himself in a miniature replica of the institute's grand lobby. While still adorned with exquisite paintings and marble statues, the walls were now painted a soothing light blue, mirroring the carriage's exterior. A wide staircase, positioned behind a small reception desk, led to first-floor verandahs that extended along both sides of the lobby. Numerous white doors lined the first floor, likely leading to the living quarters of students, faculty, and staff. A marble fireplace, built into the right wall, lacked any firewood, suggesting its primary function was to facilitate Floo Network travel.
The lobby was otherwise empty, as the rest of the Beauxbaton students were still enjoying dinner in the Great Hall.
"Impressive, izn't it?" said Raphael. "You won't know zhat it would be this huge from zhe outside. Az a matter of fact, zhis iz zhe first time I travel inside a magical carriage. We usually use zhe institute's buses, vans and cars for short distance travels. We use Floo Network and Apparition if we want to travel magically. Zhose white doors are where we sleep. Girl dormitories are located deeper into zhe carriage, right at zhe back. Zhey 'ave brown wooden doors unlike us. Would you like a tour?"
"No," said Harry exasperatedly. "I want to get out."
"Come on. I give you a tour," said Raphael, holding Harry's shoulder and pretending not to hear him as he and his friends made their way towards the stairways.
Harry sighed. He had no choice but to follow them.
"Are you even allowed to do this?" asked Harry out of concern. "I'm pretty sure there are some parts of this carriage that I'm not allowed to visit."
Raphael shrugged. "Well no outsiders are allowed inside zhe carriage at all but Madame Maxime as you already know izn't 'ere right now so it iz okay."
"That's mighty comforting. I hope she says 'Yes zhat I zfine, 'Arry Potter you can kickdownour door at any time you pleeze I would not be angry wiz you pleeze bring your whole school wiz you too what ours iz yours take everyzhing 'ome wiz you' if she finds out that I trespassed," Harry grumbled as he climbed the stairs with the boys. "And please don't say that she won't be a problem because I know what kind of person she is."
"You are funny. Good to know zhat you 'ave an in depth knowledge about our 'eadmistress. Zhis makes zhings a lot easier," said Raphael, smiling.
"Easier for what?"
"Nozhing. Zhis way, please."
Raphael showed Harry the surprisingly large kitchen. It was spotless, the cookware gleaming, suggesting it was rarely used. Raphael explained that the Beauxbatons students usually ate in the Great Hall. Madame Maxime, he added, was planning to request that Dumbledore have Hogwarts' house-elves deliver meals to their carriage, sparing them from the cold mornings and harsh weather. Next, they toured the dining room, spacious enough for everyone in the carriage. The carriage also boasted a small library, a combined study and classroom, and a recreation room furnished with sofas for lounging, watching television, and playing games like chess and backgammon. Harry learned the location of Madame Maxime's private quarters, though he wasn't permitted to see inside.
Finally, Raphael showed Harry his own living quarters. They walked along the dormitory corridor and stopped at the last door.
"Zhis iz my room," said Raphael as he opened the door. "I am sharing it wiz Sebastian. Please, come inside and make yourself at 'ome."
Harry paused briefly before entering Raphael's room. Sebastian, Remy, and Pierre followed him in; the other two boys had already returned to their own rooms.
Raphael's room was comfortably furnished. Two single beds sat against opposite walls, each with a closet at its foot and a study desk facing the windows. The room even had its own private bathroom and shower.
"This looks cozy," Harry commented as he looked around.
"Yes, it iz," said Raphael as he put away his shopping. "If I am being honest, zhis iz nozhing compared to what's available back 'ome. But it will 'ave to do."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"Of course you know. 'Ave a seat, 'Arry."
Raphael pushed one of the chairs towards Harry.
Harry obliged.
"I figure your dormitory would be bigger than this one, Harry," said Remy. He was now sitting on Sebastian's bed. "I mean, you live inside a castle. Castles tend to have big rooms."
"Mine certainly is bigger than this," admitted Harry. "But I have to share it with five other people. We even have to share a bathroom. We don't even have a study desk of our own. We have to go down to the common room to study and do our homework."
"It's that bad, huh?" said Remy. "But I still think castles are cool. I wish I live in one."
"No, actually the dormitory is perfect the way it is. It's true that I have to share it with five other people but we still have plenty of space to move around," Harry explained. "Beauxbaton's campus has the same thing, right? Only that you guys only have to share one dormitory with one other person."
"'Ow did you know zhat, 'Arry?" asked Pierre curiously. "We don't usually share much information wiz outsiders especially regarding our living arrangement."
"Urm…"
"'E must 'ave known it from someone else. We're not exactly secretive as Pierre implied," said Raphael, coming to Harry's rescue. His eyebrows rose when he heard what Harry just said. "Am I right, 'Arry?"
Harry however didn't answer.
An hour passed quickly, filled with easy conversation. The boys chatted about everything from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to the Triwizard Tournament, brooms, cars, and girls. Harry was beginning to relax, his earlier anxiety fading. The Aurors hadn't stopped him at the gate, which was a relief. Madame Maxime was still absent, and Raphael had assured him he'd help him slip away when he was ready to return to Hogwarts. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. He'd explain his absence to his friends later… or maybe not. He was still annoyed by their narrow-minded reaction to him talking to Bletchley earlier in the day.
They were currently discussing Fleur.
"Fleur iz my maternal cousin," Raphael explained to Harry, a hint of wry amusement in his voice. "My mother's brother iz her father. It took me a while to adjust to her presence, I'll admit. It iz… well, she has a certain effect. Let's just say it was initially quite embarrassing, but I've learned to manage. These gentlemen, however," he gestured towards Remy, Pierre, and Sebastian, "'aven't been so fortunate."
Harry, of course, was already aware of Fleur's captivating nature.
"Oh, yes, truly unfortunate," Remy said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If only you'd share your… insider knowledge, Raphael. But no, you're probably hoarding her for yourself. My cousin-in-law, she could have been mine."
Raphael rolled his eyes, while Harry simply smiled, shaking his head slightly.
"Fleur, your girlfriend?" Sebastian scoffed from his bed. "Please. You'd 'ave to fight through a legion of admirers. And that iz just from Beauxbatons. Add in 'Ogwarts and Durmstrang, and you're talking thousands."
"Zhat 'Ogwarts boy, Roger, he's already making his moves," Pierre chimed in, his French accent thick. "'E iz very… persistent. Always trying to sit next to Fleur in zhe Great 'All. It's quite zhe spectacle, and 'e makes everyone at zhe table uncomfortable."
"Roger Davies," Harry murmured, recognizing the name.
"Yes! Zhat iz 'im," Pierre confirmed. "I understand 'e iz a Quidditch Captain?"
Harry nodded.
"I don't like 'im," Remy declared.
"Neither do I," Raphael agreed. "But I wouldn't worry about 'im. I doubt Fleur's interested. She probably 'as 'er eye on someone else entirely," he said, his gaze lingering on Harry.
"You know I hate it when you play riddle with us. Stop doing that. If you know who she is currently dating which I hope isn't true, just tell us for crying out loud!" said Remy, looking very annoyed with Raphael.
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. Everyone in the room stared at it in silence for a moment.
The knocking continued, growing louder with each successive rap.
Raphael put a finger to his lips, signaling Harry to be quiet. He rose from his chair and cautiously opened the door, taking care not to open it wide enough for Harry to be seen by whoever was outside.
"Oh, it's you. What do you want, Jeanne?" Raphael asked, a note of relief in his voice, a feeling shared by everyone else in the room.
"Is Sebastian here? He hasn't handed in Professor Babineaux's assignment yet. And neither have Remy and Pierre," Jeanne said. "The professor was already asking about it."
"I'll hand it in on Monday," Pierre called out from his seat. "The due date is Wednesday next week, right?"
"Who told you that? The deadline is today before midnight! Have you forgotten what the professor said? She's reminded us countless times," Jeanne replied.
Pierre was stunned. "You've got to be kidding me. Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, and you need to be careful, Pierre," Jeanne said. "Professor Babineaux specifically mentioned you and a few others. She said if you fail to hand in your assignment before midnight tonight, you'll be barred from taking the Final Wizarding Exam and you won't be able to graduate. This isn't the first time you've missed an assignment deadline."
"Merde. I need to go back to my room. I need to finish zhe assignment," said Pierre as he hastily got up and walked towards the door.
"Yeah, me too," said Remy as he too got up to leave the room.
Just as Pierre was leaving the room, he pushed the door open a fraction too wide. The suddenness of the movement revealed the room's contents to Jeanne.
And over Pierre's shoulder, she saw Harry.
Her eyes widened.
Before Raphael could do or say anything, she pushed her way through the boys and stopped right in front of Harry.
Standing at the door, Raphael could be seen face palming.
"What are you doing 'ere?!" she asked Harry.
"I-… I was just visiting?" said Harry with no small amount of uncertainty.
"Visiting?! But you are not allowed to visit! None of the students from ozher schools are allowed to set zheir foot inside zhe carriage! 'Ow did you get in?!" asked Jeanne frantically.
"I brought 'im in. I just want to show 'im around. I mean, zhe Durmstrang did it. Why not us?" Raphael confessed before Harry could respond. "It waz not 'is fault. 'E refused but I insisted."
Remy and Pierre, upon Jeanne's abrupt entrance, had vanished to their rooms.
"Raphael, this is reckless! We are not Durmstrang! Have you forgotten Madame Maxime's rules? You're in serious trouble!" Jeanne exclaimed, then turning to Harry, added, "And you as well!"
"It was just a quick tour," Raphael countered. "I didn't bring in strangers. This is Harry Potter. What harm could he do? Madame Maxime won't know unless someone tells her, and she's in Paris. I just need to see him out. Unless you're going to tell her?"
Jeanne folded her arms. "I don't have to. She's back. She returned half an hour ago and is in her room. You know her routine; she patrols before curfew. She'll find him." She gestured towards Harry.
"But she wasn't due back until tomorrow!" Raphael protested, startled.
Jeanne shrugged. "She can do as she pleases. She never trusted the wardens. She returned as soon as she finished whatever business she had in Paris."
Raphael and Harry exchanged a worried glance. Harry, understanding French, now grasped the gravity of the situation.
"You should leave, 'Arry. Before Madame Maxime finds you 'ere," Sebastian urged from his bed, looking as alarmed as the others.
"Right," Harry agreed, rising to leave.
But Jeanne grabbed his arm. "You can't leave," she stated.
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"Zhe entrance door 'as been locked. You can't leave," replied Jeanne.
"Well, can't you or anyone else unlock the door for me?" asked Harry.
Jeanne however shook her head. "Only Madame Maxime or zhe warden can do zhat. Zhe warden 'ad gone back to zhe main campus so you 'ave to go through Madame if you really want to leave tonight. For your own sake I advise you not to do zhat," said Jeanne. She sounded rather apologetic that time.
"What about my own sake?" asked Raphael to Jeanne.
"I don't care about you. Just him!" came the reply. "He is the victim. You on the other hand asked for it!"
Harry stared at the two.
"Don't worry, 'Arry," said Raphael as he stared daggers at Jeanne. "Zhere iz no need to panic. You can 'ide in my room tonight. Madame Maxime doesn't generally look into students rooms when she iz on patrol unless zhere iz a good reason to do so. She usually sticks only to zhe corridors. You can go back to zhe castle tomorrow morning, I will make sure of it. It will be alright."
Harry sighed, resigned. He had no choice but to agree. At least there was a way out of this mess; it wasn't a complete disaster. He glanced around the room. It seemed he'd be sleeping on the hard floor tonight. Sharing a bed with either of the other two was out of the question.
Jeanne seemed to know what Harry was thinking. "Wait 'ere, 'Arry," she said.
She turned and left abruptly, pointedly bumping Raphael's shoulder as she went.
"Where is she going?" asked Harry to Raphael.
The boy, still rubbing his shoulder painfully, leaned to look over the door frame. Harry could see his blonde eyebrows raised.
"Oh, zhere are many of zhem. You're in luck, 'Arry," said Raphael, still looking outside the room. "'Elp iz coming. I zhink."
Maybe she'll return with a blanket and a pillow. That would be great, he thought.
But Jeanne didn't return with a blanket and a pillow. The red haired girl with glasses instead returned with another girl.
Cassandra.
Cassandra reacted to Harry's presence with the same surprise as Jeanne. The two girls exchanged a look, Jeanne shrugging slightly.
Without another word, Cassandra swept past Raphael and into the room. She stopped directly in front of Harry, smiled, and asked, "Did you like our carriage, 'Arry?"
"It is a nice carriage," Harry replied.
Cassandra's smile broadened. "Good. I 'ope you 'ad your fill," she said. "Now, would you please follow me?"
Without waiting for an answer, she took his hand. Raphael gave Harry an apologetic look as Cassandra led him quickly out of the room.
Harry, flanked by Cassandra and Jeanne, walked down the corridor. Near the stairs at the end of the corridor, he saw a group of girls gathered. Among them was Fleur Delacour, but she wasn't the only familiar face. Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis were also there, along with Daphne's younger sister, Astoria.
Harry wasn't surprised to see the three Hogwarts girls in the Beauxbatons carriage. He knew they were friends with Fleur and had visited before; he expected no different now.
The girls were chatting happily as Harry, Jeanne, and Cassandra approached. Fleur was laughing at a joke. Their conversation stopped abruptly when they saw who was with Cassandra and Jeanne.
"Girls," Cassandra announced as they arrived, "I present Harry Potter. He was found hiding in Monsieur Bertrand's dormitory. What shall we do with him?"
The girls were silent for a moment, surprised.
"How did he get in here?" one of them finally asked.
Jeanne explained, "Raphael smuggled him in after their trip to Hogsmeade. I don't know the details of how they met. He was giving Harry a tour, but now Harry is trapped. He couldn't go back to the castle." She glanced at Fleur, who stood slightly apart from the group. "Maybe someone can help him escape? Madame will be doing her rounds soon."
Harry suddenly realized he was the shortest person there, and the only male. Even Daphne and Tracy, both fourteen, were taller than him. Astoria, younger still, was almost his height! All the girls were not only beautiful but tall, with Fleur only slightly taller than the rest. He mentally planned to give a huge thank you to the Dursleys if he ever met them in this timeline.
"If anyone can help, it's Fleur," Cassandra said, also looking at Fleur. "How about it, Fleur? You're closer to Madame than any of us. She'll listen to you. Maybe she'll let him off with a warning?"
All eyes turned to Fleur.
Fleur was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed as she studied Harry.
"Fleur?"
She glanced at Cassandra, then looked down the corridor. "I could help," she said, finally. Turning back to her friends, she added, "He'll be able to leave. Madame wouldn't want him to stay here anyway."
"I foresee the word 'but' coming," Adrienne, whom Harry recognized, remarked.
Fleur shrugged. "Will Madame let him off with just a warning? I doubt it," she replied.
"Do you think she'll press charges, like with the other trespassers? Your cousin will suffer too, Fleur. He let him in," Jeanne pointed out.
"We can't rule it out."
"So, what now? The fate of two people is at stake," Adrienne said.
Fleur shrugged again.
"You could still talk to Madame. She'll listen to you. Say it was a one-time thing, that he promises never to do it again," Jeanne suggested. "Tell her to let him off with a warning. After all, this is Harry Potter. We know who he is, and who he potentially is."
Harry raised his eyebrows at Jeanne's cryptic words. He wasn't sure what she meant.
"I... I don't care who he is, and I don't care what happens to him," Fleur stated.
Jeanne was taken aback. "That's harsh, Fleur," she said.
Harry thought so too, especially since they'd just met.
"Aren't you afraid of what Madame might do if she finds out he's here?" Adrienne asked.
"Must I repeat myself?" Fleur retorted. "I honestly don't care."
Wow, Harry thought, staring in disbelief at Fleur.
"Really? After what he did for Daphne? Just go explain it to her," Adrienne urged. "Use that. Just help him this one time."
"I'm not going to. He should have said no to Raphael. It was his own fault he stranded here," said Fleur firmly.
Adrienne sighed. "This is going nowhere," she said. "Madame will be here any minute. You should remember that, Fleur."
Harry stood by, watching the girls' discussion about his fate reach a standstill. His worry grew. Adrienne was right; Madame Maxime could appear at any moment. With Fleur's refusal to help, being out in the open was too risky. The safest place for him now was Raphael's dormitory. He wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor, or even a chair. He'd slept in worse places. A hard wooden floor was preferable to facing Madame Maxime.
When Jeanne had first "caught" him, he'd considered apparating out of the carriage. He didn't need to go far, just outside. But like the castle, the Beauxbatons carriage undoubtedly had Anti-Apparition wards. He wouldn't risk testing it. He'd seen what happened to those who tried to apparate within such wards: either they simply couldn't, or worse, their skulls split. Depending on the setup, Anti-Apparition wards could be nasty. Some simply prevented apparition; others had the same effect as hitting an invisible brick wall at 100 mph.
He needed to say something, but before he could, Daphne spoke.
"I can help," Daphne offered.
All the other girls looked at her.
"I can help," she repeated, moving to stand beside Harry. "I can go see Madame. I'll tell her I need to go back to the castle for something I forgot. I'll ask her to unlock the door. Then I'll bring Harry back with me. Astoria and Tracy can stay here."
That could work, Harry thought, feeling a surge of hope.
"Madame will want to be there when she unlocks the door. How do you plan to smuggle Harry out under her nose?" Cassandra, who had been quiet until then, pointed out.
"She can unlock it remotely, right?" Daphne said. "I'll tell her she doesn't need to be there. Easy."
"Madame wouldn't do that. You know she loves micromanaging," Cassandra replied. "Your plan will only work if Harry can turn invisible."
Harry suddenly remembered he had the Invisibility Cloak. He just needed to summon it. Then he remembered that might not work either; the carriage likely had wards and enchantments to prevent unauthorized summoning.
"Then what else can I do? None of you are exactly helping," Daphne accused.
"We want to help, Daphne. We're trying to think of a way," Jeanne said.
Daphne crossed her arms. "Right. Just you, Cassy, and Adrienne. The rest of you are just quiet. Even the most influential person here, who could surely get Harry off the hook, doesn't want to help him. What?! You said it yourself, have you forgotten?!" she argued, noticing Fleur's glare.
"That's not a nice thing to say, Daphne," Cassandra said.
Daphne shook her head. "I'm sorry, but he helped me. He protected me. Why can't I do the same for him?" She said this while looking at Harry with admiration. And something else.
The girls were silent.
Fleur's eyes darted between Harry and Daphne, observing them.
Once again, the discussion stalled.
Feeling the urgency, Harry raised his hand and spoke, "Excuse me. Can I have a say in this?"
The girls turned to him, silent and waiting.
"I'm grateful for what you're trying to do," he continued, "but as some of you pointed out, I'm running out of time. I'm going back to Raphael's dormitory and hide in there for the night. Raphael and I will figure out how I can leave safely in the morning. Thank you all, and good night." He looked at Daphne. "Thank you, Daphne. I'll take it from here."
He turned and hurried back towards Raphael's room. He was halfway there when Fleur called out, "Wait!"
He stopped.
Fleur pushed past the other girls, her jaw still set. "And 'ow will you sleep tonight?" she demanded. "Nearly every room in zhis carriage 'as only two beds. Raphael's room will be no different."
"I know. I can sleep on the floor or a chair. Either works," Harry said, trying to shrug it off.
Fleur shook her head vehemently. "It won't be comfortable. It won't do at all."
"I never said it would be," Harry replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I've slept in worse places. I'll be fine. Besides, I don't want to be a burden."
He turned to go, but Fleur grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. She leaned closer, her breath warm on his face. "No. It won't do," she repeated, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. Then, to his astonishment, she took his hand. "Follow me."
"But—" he began, his voice barely a murmur. Her hand was warm, the softness of her skin unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He felt a strange pull, almost hypnotic, as he allowed her to lead him away.
Her friends watched in stunned silence as she and Harry walked towards them. Just as they were about to pass, Cassandra stopped her. "Fleur, remember what Madame and your parents said at the Chateau," Cassandra said, her voice laced with concern. "I know I asked you to help, but not like this."
"I remember every single word, Cassy. That's partly why I refused to see her tonight," Fleur replied, her voice hardening again. "Come, 'Arry."
Cassandra exchanged a worried glance with the others. "So, this isn't about what Madame will do if she finds out?" she pressed.
"No," Fleur replied curtly, pulling Harry away.
The other girls watched silently, a mixture of confusion and apprehension clouding their faces.
Harry and Fleur hurried down the corridor, her grip on his hand firm as they moved swiftly. It was then that Harry started to piece together where they were headed. The brown doors slid by as they pressed on, heading toward an uncertain destination. Fleur appeared to be in a real rush.
"These doors, they are girl dormitories," he brought his concern out to Fleur.
"You are very perceptive," came the reply. "I expect nozhing less, of course."
"I'm pretty sure that is sarcasm. Iam also pretty sure that I shouldn't be here," he said.
"By right you shouldn't even be inside zhe carriage," she retorted.
"Well, you heard the story. My point is, I'm trying not to sink deeper into trouble if you know what I mean," he said.
"I know exactly what you mean," said Fleur. "Trouble always finds zheir way to you, izn't it? Come along and be quick."
Harry sighed. "I don't think you do," he mumbled.
He could almost see Fleur smirking.
After a few more twists and turns, they reached a door. Like every other door they had passed, it was painted brown, but this one stood out. Instead of being plain, it featured a beautiful flower motif carved into its surface. It was also larger than the others, resembling the door to Madame Maxime's private quarters.
But this wasn't the entrance to Madame Maxime's room—he knew that. Her private quarters were on the opposite side of the carriage. Raphael had never taken him on a tour of the girls' dormitories before.
"This is your room," he stated.
Fleur gave him an odd look. "Yes, I know zhis iz my room. You don't 'ave to tell me," she said.
Fleur took out her wand and tapped it two times on the door. There was a click and the door opened by itself.
"Get inside," Fleur instructed as she stored her wand inside the pocket of her uniform.
But Harry just stood, unmoving.
"Get inside, please?" said Fleur, sounding a little bit impatiently this time.
"I'm not going to," Harry responded.
"Why?"
"I'm not comfortable entering a girl's room, especially one that belongs to someone I barely know. We just met. Why not let me stay in Raphael's dormitory instead? I'll be safe there," Harry protested.
Fleur's expression darkened with irritation. Without a word, she stepped around him and, with a sudden shove, pushed a startled Harry into her room. Before he could react, she swiftly shut the door behind him with a decisive slam.
"You know zhat iz not an option unless you volunteer to face Madame Maxime yourself! If zhat iz zhe case, I wash my 'ands of you. 'Ardly knew me?! We just met?!C'est pas croyable!" she said with a huff. She brushed past him and moved to close all the curtains. Once finished, she turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was unmistakably irate.
"But we really just met, right?" Harry pointed out. "We never knew each other before. We're not even friends."
Fleur glared at him but remained silent.
She was clearly upset with him for some reason—perhaps even hated him. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to find out why. After years of living with her, he had learned how to handle Fleur, but that was the older, more composed version of her. The girl standing before him now was different—young, temperamental, and far less reasonable. And given her current demeanor, he felt little motivation to dig any deeper.
Something about the look on her face stirred an old memory. It reminded him of the moment he stepped into that small chamber after being chosen as the fourth Triwizard Champion. He could still picture it vividly. Viktor Krum stood near the fireplace mantel, watching him with dark, unreadable eyes. Cedric Diggory, on the other hand, looked more bewildered than angry—but like Viktor, he said nothing.
But Fleur!
Oh, Fleur had gone ballistic the moment Ludo Bagman made the announcement. A little boy—that was what she had called him. He could still remember the look of utter disgust she had thrown his way before storming out of the chamber with Madame Maxime. God only knew what other insults she had hurled at him once she was back with her friends. From that moment on, she regarded him with the deepest contempt she could muster whenever he was nearby.
She had outright ignored him while they waited for their turn inside the Champions' Tent before the First Task, choosing instead to speak only with Cedric—whom she likely considered the true Hogwarts Champion. Of course, Cedric was also good-looking, which probably helped. Their icy relationship had only begun to thaw after the Second Task and had steadily improved from there. The rest, as they say, was history.
For weeks, Harry had imagined a warm, romantic reunion with Fleur—full of love, passion, and adventure.
That fantasy shattered in an instant. He was certain he had already ruined his chance.
If there ever was a chance, that is.
This Fleur knew nothing about him. She wasn't his Fleur. Winning over this younger, more skeptical version of her would be an uphill battle.
And then there was the question of whether he should even try. The Fleur he had grown to love had been shaped by the war, by the Weasleys, by Bill. That was the Fleur who had captured his heart, the Fleur who had eventually won over even Mrs. Weasley. But this younger version had seen none of it—and given what he planned to do, she likely never would.
Minutes passed in heavy silence. Neither of them spoke.
The staring contest dragged on to the point that Harry began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He knew he had to break the deadlock.
"So, what now? Time's ticking. Are we just going to stand here staring at each other all night? Or should we, you know, do something?" he said. "Frankly, I'm uncomfortable. It's clear you don't want me here, and I'd rather not be either. I get it – your friends put you in a tough spot. They asked you to 'rescue' me. I don't blame you. I can leave right now if that's what you want. You're off the hook."
Fleur remained silent.
"Well, I guess this is good night. Sorry for everything."
Harry was about to open the door when Fleur spoke, "Madame Maxime iz on 'er patrol. If you leave, she will know you are 'ere."
"I'll risk it," he shrugged. "I've already made a few questionable choices today – Hogsmeade, this carriage... and now being in your room, all without permission, of course. While you were kind enough to allow me in (eventually), I doubt Madame Maxime would be as understanding. I wouldn't want to cause any problems, especially given your… connections. I could ignite an international incident just by being here. I'm sure you've had a long day, so I should probably let you get some rest."
He once again reached for the door knob when Fleur once again spoke, "Are you sure you want to do zhis?"
"What other option do I have?" he responded. "I don't want to fight you or turn us into enemies. I just hope we can part on good terms, even if we never speak again."
"Zhat iz very mature of you," Fleur noted.
"Yes, well, this 'little boy' does know a thing or two about making peace and trying to avoid further conflict. I'm being honest, by the way."
Fleur's eyes narrowed. "Little boy?"
"You called me th-... you might call me that if things escalate, I don't know," Harry said, correcting himself.
There was a moment of pause.
"Zhe red 'aired girl 'ho 'ug you inside zhe Great 'All, 'ho iz she?" she suddenly asked.
"A friend," Harry replied. "She's the younger sister of a close friend."
"Does she mean anyzhing to you? You seem very close to 'er."
Harry shook his head. "Yes, I'm close to her, but only as the sister I never had. If you've read anything about me in books or newspapers, you'd know I never had a sister of my own. I cared for her—nothing more."
"And zhat iz zhe truth?"
"Sure," Harry said. "What's the purpose of lying to you? You probably hear that a lot, don't you? Like men coming to you saying they're single when they're not? Honestly, I'm not even sure how to prove myself to you, so I'm not going to bother. What would be the point? Anyway, she's currently seeing someone. It looks like they're serious, and I wouldn't be surprised if they end up marrying someday."
"What about you? Do you 'ave someone? Like right now? Someone you loved?"
That was an odd question for her to ask considering that they just met. "What is the point of these questions exactly? We hardly know each other. Why does it matter?" he asked.
"Just answer zhe question, 'Arry."
Harry pondered for a few moments. "I'm-… not sure how to tell you," he said rather unconvincingly.
But Fleur seemed to have no problem accepting that answer. "You do 'ave someone, don't you? Iz she from your school?" she asked.
Harry pondered deeply, a frown creasing his brow. He couldn't, of course, reveal the name of the woman he loved. Fleur would likely think he'd lost his mind. After a moment of deliberation, he finally settled on an answer. 'No, she's not from here. She... I can't tell you. I'm not sure how to explain it, to be honest. Perhaps it's best we drop the subject. I'd rather keep this secret to myself. If it comes to it, I'd likely take it to the grave. You'll understand someday," he concluded.
Fleur nodded. "I understand. I shall respect your decision. We 'ave time. We 'ave all zhe time in zhe world. Somezhing will come up eventually. It could surprise both of us, 'ho knows? Or at least one of us."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she moved towards a small round table that could seat four, positioned at the foot of a queen-size bed. Pulling out a chair, her expression softened considerably. "We clearly got off on zhe wrong foot, and I apologize for zhat. But first, please have a seat, 'Arry," she said, her voice now soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how it had been just minutes earlier.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head firmly. "I can't stay." He reached for the doorknob, intent on leaving. "I'll keep your and Raphael's involvement quiet if I see Madame Maxime. Don't worry."
But Fleur wouldn't hear it. "You're not going anywhere," she said, a snap of her fingers echoing in the room. The doorknob clicked, locking the door.
Harry tried the handle, his heart sinking as he realized he was trapped. He turned to Fleur, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.
"You will be safe 'ere," said Fleur, still holding the chair out for him. "I am not going to let you take your chances out zhere. So many zhings 'appened to you tonight. Enough iz enough. You also looked pale and tired. Please sit down."
Fleur's allure wasn't limited to her striking beauty. Her voice, like her appearance, was captivating – sweet, gentle, and perfectly matched to her. It was, after all, a voice that had once soothed even a nesting adult dragon into peaceful sleep.
After a moment's hesitation, Harry let go of the doorknob. He then walked towards her and sat down in the offered chair.
Fleur settled into a chair beside him, turning to face him directly. Her bright, sparkling eyes moved over his face, carefully studying every feature. It was refreshing; she wasn't fixated on his scar like everyone else.
"You looked unwell," she observed, her eyes continued to roam his face. "Do you want anyzhing? Coffee? Tea? 'Ot chocolate? Somezhing zhat can perk you up?"
Harry shook his head. "Thank you but there's no need. I don't want to trouble you," he said.
Her pink lips curved into a smile. That smile was entrancing. "It iz no trouble. I waz planning to make one for myself anyway. 'Ot chocolate will be good for you, I zhink."
Harry seeing no point in declining the offer decided to accept. "Hot chocolate will be fine," he said. He too,was smiling.
Fleur, still smiling, gave his forearm a gentle squeeze and rose from her chair. She moved to a small hot drink station at the far end of the room. The sounds of stirring and the delicious aroma of hot chocolate soon added to the rather cozy atmosphere.
Harry's gaze followed Fleur. She moved with a familiarity that suggested she was no stranger to household chores, reminding him of Mrs. Weasley. But where Mrs. Weasley often turned to magic as a first resort, Fleur seemed more discerning, using it sparingly. This younger version of her appeared to share that same practicality.
He finally looked away from her and took in the room. It was surprisingly spacious, almost three-quarters the size of his own dormitory. A queen-sized bed and matching bedside tables stood against the right wall, while the left side housed a drink station, closets, drawers, and the bathroom entrance. A long shelf stretched along the wall of windows, filled with books, potted plants, and a small stereo system. A couch and a collection of colorful beanbag chairs completed the comfortable, almost luxurious, feel. It definitely wasn't your average student dorm room.
"Who is your roommate if you don't mind me asking?" asked Harry.
"I don't 'ave a roommate, 'Arry," said Fleur, her back still facing him. "Zhe girls, zhey come over to keep me company. Do you know Daphne? She and 'er sister along with Tracy would come to zhe carriage for a visit a few times a week."
"Yeah, I know Daphne and her sister. And Tracy too."
"Zhe three of zhem would sleep in zhe carriage during zhe weekend. Anyway, I didn't automatically get zhis room right from zhe start. For zhe first night, I 'ave to share a room with Cassy. You know Cassy, right?"
"Yes."
"I thought you would know 'er. Anyway, I waz only given zhis room after I was chosen as zhe Triwizard Champion. It iz part of zhe school sponsored perks, so to speak," Fleur continued her explanation.
"I see," said Harry who of course already knew the details. It was just his way to strike a conversation with her. "Allow me to say congratulations. How do you feel about being chosen?"
Fleur's drink-making was interrupted by a brief pause, after which she continued. "It waz okay," she said.
"You don't sound too happy," he noted.
"I am 'appy, 'Arry," said Fleur as she took out two white colored mugs from the cabinet above her. "Eternal glory, 'ho doesn't want zhat, right? It wazn't what I expected 'owever. It iz missing somezhing."
He of course did not expect this.
"Like what?" he asked rather curiously.
Fleur once again paused. "Forget about it, 'Arry," she said as she resumed brewing the drinks. "It doesn't matter anymore, especially after tonight."
He decided not to push the matter further.
Fleur came back, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. A warm grin spread across her face as she looked at him. "So, which one do you want? Zhis one, or zhis one?" she playfully asked.
Noting the identical mugs and the glint of amusement in Fleur's eyes, he replied, "I'll take the one you've chosen for yourself."
Fleur tilted her head. "It iz still too early for us to share a mug, Monsieur Potter. 'Ere, take zhis one." She handed him the one she held with her right hand.
"Why can't I have that one?" he asked, pointing to the mug held by Fluer's left hand.
"Zhis one?" said Fleur nodding towards the aforementioned mug. "Of course. You can 'ave it." She quickly pushed the mug into Harry's hand and settled back into her seat. "I wanted zhis one anyway," she said as she took a sip from the mug she was still holding. Her grin widened.
Harry shook his head, realizing that he was being played.
Far from being angry, he felt a surge of delight at the sudden turn of events. The atmosphere had shifted so quickly it was almost unsettling, but he welcomed the change. A prolonged confrontation with Fleur was the last thing he desired.
The hot chocolate was wonderful, bringing back memories of the hot chocolate the older Fleur used to make.
"'Ow iz your summer, 'Arry?" asked Fleur.
Harry hesitated, a shadow passing over his face. He knew Fleur was talking about that long-ago summer. "It was... uneventful," he replied.
Fleur's gaze was knowing. "As in dreadful? Not zhe summer of your dreams, I imagine? Zhe same as always?"
He stared at her, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in his eyes. How could she possibly know?
Harry's thoughts drifted to the past, to his marriage to Fleur. He remembered sharing the details of his life with the Dursleys, and how the older Fleur had reacted. She'd been vocal about her disapproval, even hatred, of his relatives.
He wondered...
But Fleur, as if sensing his train of thought, said, "Don't zhink too much, 'Arry Potter. We've only just met. Your life is 'ardly a secret," she said, returning to her hot chocolate.
Right.
Briefly, he wondered if she, too, had returned from another time. But the thought faded quickly. She was right; his life was no secret. He turned his attention back to his drink, feeling a pang of dejection.
As they sat in silence, enjoying their hot chocolate, Fleur subtly observed him, her gaze flitting towards him when she thought he wouldn't notice.
The silence was quickly shattered as Fleur began recounting her summer that year. She dramatically described how a meticulously planned vacation with her family and friends had been derailed at the eleventh hour.
"What happened?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"Oh, 'Arry, a cascade of unfortunate events!" Fleur exclaimed. "Zhe girls, Gabrielle especially, were 'eartbroken. They'd been anticipating Monaco for months. But, alas, I succumbed to a sudden illness on zhe very day of our departure."
"I'm so sorry," Harry said. "Was it serious?"
"It iz serious," Fleur replied curtly.
"What is it? Did you catch an infection? Or—heaven forbid—were you cursed?" Harry asked, looking concerned.
"No, nozhing like zhat," Fleur said, leaving Harry even more confused. "It's...personal. Anyway, I 'ad to go to rehab for zhe rest of zhe summer. Papa'ad to reschedule all his business so I could, well, get better. Thankfully, it was all taken care of before school started. I'm just glad I'm able to be 'ere now."
"Rehab? That is serious," Harry said. "I really wish you could tell me what happened, but I understand if you don't want to talk about it. So, you're okay now?"
Fleur smiled and nodded. "Yes. Though my parents still check in on me through Madame Maxime every now and zhen. Zhey want to know everyzhing I'm doing here. Being constantly watched isn't exactly fun, you know?"
"Absolutely," Harry replied. "But your parents just want to make sure you're okay. I hope you don't hold that against them. They must have been really scared by what happened."
"No, I love zhem," she responded. "I just wish zhere waz a way to make zhings a bit easier. I need some space to breathe, you know?" She sighed. "I guess I'll just 'ave to deal with it for now, at least until they're confident I'm fully recovered."
Harry reminisced about the trip to Monaco. He was well aware of the journey—after all, Fleur and her entourage had actually made it there in the past. Fleur, his wife, had recounted it as one of the most extraordinary vacations she'd ever had. They watched the thrilling F1 race, shopped in luxurious boutiques, dined in exquisite restaurants, and basked in the sun on an exclusive private beach, the name of which he still couldn't pronounce. The impending shadow of the Triwizard Tournament had somehow added an extra layer of excitement, which is partly why he felt intrigued by what she said about the cancellation earlier.
"So, do you think you're fully recovered?" Harry inquired.
Fleur shrugged. "Perhaps seventy percent?"
"Seventy?" Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Fleur nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Zhe remaining thirty percent will 'ave to wait."
"For what?" Harry pressed, curious.
"The right time," she replied enigmatically.
Harry chuckled. "You know, Remy complains about how Raphael always talking in riddles. I think I might have to join him."
Fleur laughed. "Yes, you probably should. Did you know Raphael is my cousin?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, he mentioned it. Well, I hope 'the right time' arrives soon, but honestly, you seem perfectly fine to me."
"But only seventy percent."
Harry just shook his head.
The last drop of chocolate drink had vanished. Fleur, a whirlwind of words, held court, while Harry mostly listened, interjecting an occasional comment. He found himself captivated, observing her. Her hair, usually loose, was twisted in a sleek bun tonight, strands of silvery hair escaping to frame her face. The style lent her an air of maturity, an unexpected elegance.
For seventy years of searching for flaws, he would find none.
A loud knocking shattered the peaceful atmosphere. Both of them froze, eyes fixed on the door. The knocking intensified, growing louder with each passing second.
Fleur sprang to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for Harry's. "Come," she whispered, pulling him towards the bathroom. She pushed him inside, her finger pressed to her lips, a silent command for silence. She then closed the bathroom door.
The bathroom, a study in Beauxbatons blue mosaic tiles, boasted a toilet, a bathtub with a showerhead, and a long vanity sink. A dazzling array of toiletries adorned the counter: lotions, washes, the works. Harry doubted they were all Fleur's. Does she really need eleven bottles of face wash? Her friends likely used this spacious haven for their beauty routines. Curiosity piqued, he picked up a bottle, examining it closely.
The door burst open. Camille, who had remained largely silent until now and also someone Harry recognized, stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Her eyes widened as she saw him standing there with a bottle of hand lotion in his hand.
"What are you doing with my 'and lotion, Monsieur Potter?" she demanded.
Harry quickly set the bottle down, his cheeks flushing.
Before he could utter a word, Camille reached inside and unceremoniously yanked him out of the bathroom.
He found himself thrust into a whirlwind of activity. Fleur and her friends, along with several unfamiliar faces, had taken over the room. Bean bag chairs, the couch, even Fleur's bed were occupied. Plates piled high with cakes and cookies, glasses brimming with drinks, adorned the round table. Harry felt a wave of sudden heat as he surveyed the scene. The girls, including Tracy, Daphne, and her sister who were usually conservative in what they wore, were dressed in far less formal attire than he was accustomed to seeing within the castle walls. The clothes they wore accentuated their curves and showed quite a lot of skin.
"'Arry!" a chorus of greetings washed over him.
"He was holding my hand lotion when I found him," Camille announced, her voice dripping with amusement as she let go of him.
"Oh really?" Aurielle, a girl he vaguely recognized, drawled. "Wonder what he was planning to do with it."
"Probably not for hands," another girl chimed in, and the room erupted in laughter.
Harry rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks burn even hotter.
Cassandra, shaking her head at her friends' antics, turned to Fleur. "You should change, Fleur. You've been in that uniform all day."
Fleur nodded in agreement. She went on to grab a few clothing from her closet and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I don't understand why Madame insists we wear our uniforms to the Great Hall for meals," Adrienne complained. "I'm fine with wearing them during the week, but on weekends? Hogwarts and Durmstrang students wear casual clothes today. Why can't we?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.
"It's all about the image we shown to other schools," Cassandra declared, "By zhe way, please take a seat, 'Arry." She got up from her chair and then gracefully perched herself on Fleur's bed.
"Hogwarts and Durmstrang didn't seem to care about formal," Jeanne scoffed. "I don't care either."
"We'll just have to do what we're told," Cassandra sighed, "What choice do we have? 'Arry, please sit." She gently prodded him with her gaze when he remained standing.
After a moment's hesitation, he took the offered seat. "That's a lot of food," he observed, glancing at the table laden with treats.
"Well, we were planning to invite you to zhe carriage," Adrienne explained, "To zhank you for 'elping Daphne, and 'ave a little party. But Raphael got to you first. So, we're making do with what we 'ave."
Daphne, sitting beside him, offered a smile. Harry noticed a flicker of bitterness beneath the smile.
"You didn't have to do any of this," he insisted. "Anyone would have helped in that situation. I was just in the right place at the right time."
"Yes, but you could 'ave chosen not to," Cassandra countered. "We've 'eard about zhe… rivalry… between your 'ouses. What you did waz truly noble."
Harry shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the praise.
"That boy was absolutely horrid," Camille declared. "So full of himself. Daphne, I told you many times you and Astoria should have attended our school instead of Hogwarts."
The others murmured in agreement.
Daphne replied, "I know. But you know the reason why I'm here. My parents are in Edinburgh, remember? I want to stay close to them."
"It's not like you can go back home every weekend, right? I remember you told us Hogwarts doesn't allow it. Well, Beauxbatons allows you to do exactly that. Marianne goes back to her hometown every weekend. Travelling from Paris to Edinburgh by Floo Network takes only seconds. It makes much more sense for you to attend our school than Hogwarts," Camille laid out her points.
"Oh, she will attend Beauxbatons, right Daphne? This is the last year of your parents' tenure in Edinburgh. There's no point for you to stay at Hogwarts any longer," said Jeanne.
Daphne shrugged. She suddenly noticed Harry staring at her. She quickly looked down at her lap, her cheeks reddening.
"I agree with everyone here. You will be much safer at Beauxbaton than Hogwarts considering who you are. And Tracy too. Anyway, notice Roger Davies?" said Marianne who decided to chime in. "You saw how hard he tried to impress Fleur."
"He's... okay, I guess?" Adrienne mused. "But he seems a bit too desperate, even pathetic. He's good-looking, certainly. If he could just tone it down a bit, he might have a chance."
But Aurielle seemed to disagree. "He will fail just like every other boy," she argued. "Not when Fleur already has her eyes on someone. We know who that man is. He is..."
"Someone whom we shall discuss some other time!"
Everyone turned to look at the source. It was Fleur, emerging from the bathroom and fixing Aurielle with a warning glare. Aurielle quickly fell silent.
Harry was stunned. Fleur was no longer in her uniform. She wore a pair of silver satin nightgowns that fell halfway down her thighs. Her long, silvery hair cascaded over her elegantly sculpted shoulders. For a moment, he forgot everything that had happened that night.
Seventy years he had lived with her, and still, her presence held this captivating power.
Fleur beamed at them all. "Let us respect Monsieur Potter, shall we? We can discuss my private affairs another time. Tonight, we celebrate him."
The tense atmosphere immediately eased, and soon, the noise returned. The party commenced.
One of that year's hit songs 'Love Is All Around' by Wet Wet Wet was playing through the stereo. Harry found himself sandwiched between Fleur and Daphne at the table. The sight of multiple beautiful and alluring girls in their night attire, their perfumes a sensual assault on his senses, threatened to overwhelm him.
"It turns out Madame didn't even do her rounds tonight," Cassandra informed them, jabbing a piece of chouquette with her fork and popping it into her mouth. "She just stayed in her room ever since she returned from Paris."
"That is odd," Jeanne remarked. "So we've been worrying about him for nothing." She nodded towards Harry.
"But he still couldn't get out of the carriage. We still need to worry about him," Cassandra countered.
"You're right," Fleur agreed. "Don't worry, he will be able to get out. We know Madame's schedule every morning. Tomorrow will be no different."
"Unless Madame changed her schedule unexpectedly," Marianne pointed out.
"We'll worry about that when we get there," said Fleur. "'Arry, eat some more. 'Ere, 'ow about zhis?" She offered him a plate piled high with delicate marjolaine.
Harry had just finished a piece of mille-feuille. Aurielle had mentioned earlier that they had specially ordered everything on the table from France. In truth, he was stuffed. That shepherd's pie he'd devoured earlier was still churning in his stomach. He had no desire to eat more. He forced himself to take a piece of marjolaine and place it on his plate, simply to show his appreciation for the girls.
He'd worry about turning into Horace Slughorn later.
Fleur smiled as she watched him eat.
Harry noticed one of the thin shoulder straps of Fleur's nightgown had slipped off her shoulder. She made no move to adjust it. He quickly returned his attention to his marjolaine, hoping she hadn't noticed him looking.
The party lasted until midnight.
The girls were making a beeline for the door, many, including Fleur, carrying plates piled high with unfinished food towards the kitchen. A few, Daphne among them, paused to kiss Harry's cheek on their way out.
"We're going to store zhem in zhe fridge," Jeanne explained to Harry before she left, clutching a plate of unfinished custard butter cake. "Zhe boys tend to get 'ungry at night. Zhey'll finish off all zhese leftovers. Nozhing goes to waste in zhis carriage, especially food."
Harry sat alone on the couch, waiting for Fleur to return from the kitchen. Earlier, he had voiced his desire to return to Raphael's dormitory, arguing that it wouldn't be appropriate for him to stay in a girls' dormitory, especially when there would only be the two of them.
"I think the path to his room will be clear. I don't have to worry about meeting your Headmistress," he said to Fleur.
But Fleur had been adamant that he stay with her that night.
She returned from the kitchen a few minutes later. "If you must know, zhe boys were already raiding zhe fridge when we got zhere," she said, shrugging off the blue sweater that covered the top half of her body and hanging it on a nearby hanger. "We gave away all zhe food to zhem."
Harry grinned. "There will be many happy boys tonight. Nothing goes to waste in this carriage, right?" he said.
Fleur's smile widened. "Truly," she agreed, her French accent coloring her words. "You've no idea 'ow much zhey can eat. It's as though they each 'ave five stomachs!" She moved to the couch and settled beside him, close enough for Harry to feel the warmth radiating from her body. "And how are you feeling now?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.
"Splendid," he replied. "Thank you."
Fleur nodded. "Well, I invite you to sleep on the bed with me tonight but that wouldn't be appropriate, right?" she said to a wide-eyed Harry. "So I guess you will have to make do with the couch. Would that be fine by you?"
"Uh, yeah. That would be fine," Harry stammered. "The couch is fine."
Fleur's smile widened. She got up from the couch and proceeded to take a couple of pillows from her bed and carefully placed them on the couch. She then took out a blanket from one of the drawers and did the same.
"I guess you will 'ave to sleep in that," she said, pointing to the clothes he wore. "I got nozhing to give you."
"That's okay. These clothes aren't that dirty anyway. I'll change when I get back," replied Harry.
"Okay. In zhat case, good night."
And without warning, she leaned forward and gave him a fleeting peck on his cheek.
The spot where she kissed him still felt warm hours later.
The next morning, a thick, swirling fog enveloped the grounds as Harry and Fleur stood side-by-side outside the carriage. The rising sun, trapped behind a curtain of grey clouds, cast long, eerie shadows. Harry shivered, the damp cold seeping into his bones.
Fleur, ever observant, noticed his discomfort. "'Ere, take my sweater," she offered, pulling the soft wool garment from her shoulders.
He shook his head. "I'm used to this weather, Fleur. You'll need it more than I do."
Madame Maxime, their imposing Headmistress, had already unlocked the carriage door earlier that morning. She wasn't present when Fleur sneaked Harry out of the carriage.
"So I guess zis iz it," Fleur said, her French accent lending a charming lilt to her words. "I fully expect zhat we remain friends after zhis."
Harry smiled. "Of course."
"You should go, 'Arry." And with a playful grace, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
The morning fog clung to the ground as Harry walked alone towards the castle. Flickers of light, like a thousand watchful eyes, pierced through the mist from the castle's countless windows. The inhabitants were still slumbering.
Reaching the halfway point, he paused, glancing back at the carriage. Fleur had already disappeared inside, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the now-visible carriage.
A slow smile spread across his face. It had been the most restful sleep he'd ever experienced, a night unlike any other. This Saturday, ordinary and yet extraordinary, held a magic he hadn't expected. He hoped, with a growing certainty, that this was just the beginning of something truly special.
To be continued…
A/n: I had intended to release this chapter before the New Year, but I temporarily lost access to my computer and only got it back about two weeks ago. So, instead of a New Year's chapter, this will be a Happy Valentine's chapter.
To eileenmorris30451, no, I do not have a P.a.t.r.e.o.n. However, I am a member of the Flowerpot Discord channel, which is dedicated to fans of the Harry and Fleur pairing. It's fun. There are many awesome people in there.
So anyway, here is the chapter. Enjoy!