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Veela-that-Could

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Гарри Поттер

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Маленькая Вейла, которая смогла

Автор:

Дарт Драфтер

Во время Второго задания Турнира Трех Волшебников директор

Дамблдор наблюдает, как его план Высшего Блага рушится и

умирает. Девушка-вейла получает дар жизни через кровь и жертву

последнего Поттера. Габби/Гарри с поворотом.

Рейтинг:

Художественная литература M

- Английский - Приключения/Дружба - Габриэль Д., Гарри П. -

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29.06.2012, 05:26:42

- Опубликовано:

05.11.2009, 07:50:33

- Статус: Завершено - id: 5490079

1. Prologue

Insert standard legal disclaimer here. Mr. Hollywood, Mr. Writer's

Lawyer, I don't own these characters nor will I get one red cent from

their use.

Currently, Harry Potter is being literarily violated. I don't expect to use

characters from other stories, though small cameos may come up.

Italic text will be used for flashbacks, for thoughts or to show whole

sentences are in another language than is standard. Moslty. Unless an

error gets through.

The Little Veela that Could

Prologue: Animancora and the Boy Who Died

October 31st, 1981

Contrary to current writings and knowledge on the subjects of horcruxes,

the objects are not inherently dark. Like any other form of magic, the

level of 'Dark' or 'Light' within the existence of such an object is based on

how it was made and why. Nor is the object actually part of the soul of

the creator. Horcruxes are truly soul anchors, able to prevent a soul from

passing and capable of returning the dead to life if used properly.

The original term for these objects before they were eternally classified as

dark objects was animancora. One could even make an unlimited number

of these soul anchors without reaching any kind of upper limit except for

the fact that the act of creating them for good or ill transforms the

creator. It gives them the appearance of being either angelic (light) or

monstrous (dark). Their thoughts, actions and even appearance may be

influenced by the light-dark intent as well as the number of animancora

made. Luckily very few beings ever tried to make more than one dark

influenced soul anchor. The first being known to reap the rewards of

doing so was so great and terrible as to be feared thousands of years

later. He is called Satan in modern times.

Unfortunately for modern Wizarding kind, all ancient research by light

healers and scholars on the properties and uses of animancora was either

stolen by dark families for their own use or more commonly seized/

destroyed by various ministries and light lords for having the appearance

of being dark. The process of making soul anchors had ties to blood

magics which were also wrongly classified as dark.

Lily Potter, naughty little light witch that she was, had been doing

research on light blood magics. Why? Being muggleborn, she did not

grow up with the traditional views of her pureblood husband James. She

was too progressive for that. And with a childhood friend like Severus

Snape she learned to be far more open minded about shady and esoteric

arts than James was. When the Potters were forced to hide from Dark

Lord Voldemort, she looked to any and all magics for a way to defend

herself and her family; no subject was taboo in her eyes. Blood magic had

a dark reputation but then it also had a reputation for being very

powerful. Power, that's what Lily was looking for. A month of desperate

research into blood magics provided her with a way to make a personal

blood ward, a truly powerful shield, but it would require her to sacrifice

her own life out of love for the ward's target.

One fateful night, the Potters were betrayed to the Dark lord and Lily had

cause to cast her blood ward. She tied her love, her life and her very soul

to the baby she was protecting. Voldemort attacked a mother who would

not give up her son. Lily died. The blood ward formed.

Not that anyone present that night understood the true impact of what

Lily did, but she had just become the first witch in centuries to make a

light soul anchor. At the time, a minor blood ritual performed with the

help of her baby son would have indeed returned the woman to the land

of the living, assuming her animancora survived the encounter. Sadly, it

would not. Voldemort cast the killing curse for the third time in as many

minutes, and green light leapt from wand to child. Lily's ward performed

as expected and reflected the killing curse back on the surprised Dark

Lord, tearing his soul from his body. If Lily had been the only practitioner

of soul based magic, then this would have been the end of Voldemort.

Sadly, the Dark Lord's soul was already tainted by the use of horcruxes

and reacted to Lily's recent soul magic casting as it would had he

intended to create a soul anchor of his own that night. Magic thick with

hatred and violent intent rushed into the fresh cut on little Harry's head.

The magical bond tying Lily to her baby boy warped and fractured as a

new bond formed. Lily's protection remained but it was no longer linked

to her disembodied soul; it now came from her blood as it flowed within

Harry's own veins. Her soul anchor was gone - there would be no

bringing Lily Potter back from the dead after all.

Harry's scar now held a chaotic mix of magics that would continue to

shield Harry from magical attack, though the protection came at great

cost. Harry would never think fondly of the scar on his forehead where

both Lily and Voldemort marked him in their own ways.

When Albus Dumbledore arrived after the attack, he discovered Lily's

open research journal and took it. He knew that Lily took prodigious

notes when doing research and therefor her journal could be the key to

understanding what transpired at Godric's Hollow before he arrived. His

hunch proved to be true. The aged headmaster and Leader of the Light

took a moment to lament Lily's use of 'dark' blood magic before

continuing on.

Albus then took a moment to consider how this applied to the Greater

Good. Harry was marked by the Dark Lord. Harry held within him a form

of protection that was unheard of in the wizarding world. Harry was no

doubt a child of Destiny. But that was in the future and tonight the boy

was an orphan. He was vulnerable. He must be kept safe from the Dark

Lord's followers. Lily's ward was an unbreakable shield for Harry,

preventing all magical harm, but it would not protect anyone else. And

what good was a magical shield that protected the child but did nothing

for the adults who cared for him? How could anyone survive long

standing next to Harry Potter, Defeater of Voldemort, unless the ward

was modified? The boy was nearly immortal with Lily's original ward,

but anyone next to him was fair game. Albus saw room for improvement.

At that time, he could have tied the blood wards to just about any

location or any foster home but the Dursley family suited Albus's needs

well. Harry's aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley both carried some of Lily's

blood within their veins by familial connection. A bit of master level

charms work with one of the most powerful wands in wizarding history

could take advantage of that. Albus considered himself fortunate that he

had both the skill and the wand required.

Albus summoned Rubeus Hagrid to retrieve the boy and take him to his

aunt's house.

When Harry was delivered to number four Privet Drive, Albus forced his

will on Lily's blood protections. Petunia's blood relation allowed the work

to take hold. The magic did spread to the Dursleys and the house they

called home, but it also grew weaker. Lily's ward faded to he point that it

would prevent the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters from assaulting the

home Harry and his relatives lived and it would provide Harry with some

measure of protection against Voldemort himself. In a span of mere

hours, Lily Potter's sacrifice weathered assaults from two of the greatest

wizards alive and came out of it a pale shadow of what could have been.

Albus felt the ends would justify the means.

The Dursleys were not very agreeable to the prospect of raising young

Harry, but then they didn't need to be. A childhood full of hardship,

bereft of any sort of affection would shape young Harry into just the sort

of boy Albus needed him to be. Harry needed to be humble. He needed to

be in awe of the wonders of the magical world. He needed to see

Hogwarts as a true home and he needed to see the school headmaster as

a loving grandfather, someone to be loved and honored. Someone who

could teach young Harry right from wrong and dark from light. Someone

who could ensure that the boy was willing to sacrifice himself for the

Greater Good when the time came... for surely that time would come one

day.

-o\O/o-

February 24th, 1995, 10:36

The Second Task (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Chapter Twenty-

Six, Page 502-3)

All around him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water

with him, but they were not happy.

Merlin no! They were serious! Harry pushed Ron and the little silver haired

girl forward as the green haired merpeople advanced on his back. As bad

as the situation was before, Harry truly frightened of what could happen

next. He was too busy pushing two confused hostages to shore to pull his

wand and defend himself. Harry could hear shouting from the stands, but

it didn't matter when he was tired and near drowned and not quite back

to safety. If only he could get Ron and the girl out of the water!

"Wet, this, isn't it?" Ron spotted Fleur's sister. "What did you bring her

for?"

"No time to argue, Ron! Get to shore!" Harry was barely keeping his head

above water with the struggle of holding on to an frantic eight year old

girl. She was panicking bad at the appearance of so many angry

merpeople at the surface of Black Lake. There was no telling how many

green-haired spear wielding merpeople were still under them.

"Harry, you prat," said Ron, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did

you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"

"It's not drow-"

"It was only to make sure you got back -" Ron, who had interrupted his

'best' mate, was interrupted. All three of them were surrounded by spear-

carrying merpeople who'd looked more than capable of murder.

Before the three swimmers could move another inch, before the crowd or

judges could lend any kind of support, one merman far larger and more

muscular than the others surfaced between Ron and the other two. His

sharp, gleaming spear pointed directly at the little Veela's heart. Harry

grabbed Fleur's sister and held her close. As weak as he was at the

moment, she couldn't be any better off.

A phoenix flashed into existence above the surface of the lake, but it was

too late. Too late by far.

Pain. Horrible pain flooded through Harry's body as the merman's spear

pinned the Boy-Who-Lived to Fleur's sister. Their chests touched, blood

pooled and mixed from one body to the other. The deadly shaft extended

through both of them and a good foot out past her spine.

Harry and the little Veela didn't see the horrified looks on Ron's face or

hear the pained roar of the crowd. They didn't hear the curses and hexes

sent from shore to maim and kill any merperson foolish enough to keep

their head above water. They sank back into the water pinned together,

staring into each others eyes.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore raced Death itself to repair the grievous

injury caused this morning. A large boat was transfigured from some

floating debris by his urgent wand strokes. He and Madam Maxime both

boarded the boat and magically propelled it to the last spot Harry Potter

and Gabrielle Delacour were seen above water.

I'm going to die. Harry knew that his demise was only moments away.

Fawkes could not save him here. Harry didn't believe phoenix tears could

be applied accurately under water. Never mind on two patients impaled

on the same shaft. If he tried to breath in one more time, his one

functioning lung would only fill with water and seal his fate. Harry didn't

mind so much anymore. His life was not worth the magic his parents had

given him. In the whole of the Wizarding World, Harry could only count

on one bushy-haired witch for true loyalty, even when his 'best mate'

accused Harry of criminal acts and thoughts. And now he was dying with

this little Veela girl – oh no! No no no no no. Please Merlin, Jesus or

Buddha, don't let this innocent girl die with me! A quick look into the girls

eyes told him all he needed to know, she was as terrified and close to

death as he was.

Mum did something once. Merlin, what did she do to save me? Harry didn't

have any answer save love. Having no other miracle plan pop into his

head, Harry set his course and acted.

The little Veela could only stare into the eyes of the boy she was pinned

to as they sank back into the depths Black Lake. In her mind she

screamed for her mother and her father and Fleur and the other grown-

ups to come save her and Harry Potter. She knew who he was of course.

Everyone knew who the boy with a lighting bolt shaped scar on his head

was. And now they would die together in a tragedy for the ages; the

despair filled idea swept away any thoughts of him saving her and them

living in the ivory towers of a pristine castle surrounded by loving

commoners as Prince Harry and Princess Gabrielle lived Happily Ever

After. Please, Mommy! Save me! Save Harry! Please! Mommy, please!

It was only as a distant sound began to become louder, somewhere above

and behind her, that she saw Harry's countenance shift. The Boy-Who-

Lived seemed to build up his courage for half a second before he opened

his mouth one last time.

"I love you." It was the only French sentence any English speaking

teenaged boy was guaranteed to learn. Only bubbles left his mouth, but

Harry thought for just a second that the little girl might have understood.

With no air left in his blood soaked lungs, Harry closed the distance

between his lips and her forehead. Harry willed all of his life, love,

happiness, hope, magic, anything, everything... all of it, was willed into

that chaste kiss as Harry intoned in his own mind. Harry closed his eyes

as he kissed the little girl on her head fully believing that he would never

open his eyes again.

The two school figureheads mounting a rescue attempt pulled the spear-

joined pair out of the water ten seconds later. Gabrielle was revived, only

to immediately start wailing as if her own sister had just died to save her.

Harry Potter was dead.

Prologue End

Jan 2012 – Revised to better reflect the story's direction in later chapters.

2. The Widow and the Mark

Insert standard legal disclaimer here. Mr. Hollywood, Mr. Writer's

Lawyer, I'd rather not lose everything and be kicked to the curb. I don't

own these characters nor will I get one red cent from their use.

Currently, Harry Potter is being literarily recompiled. If other series make

it in to the background, they will be noted here or in Author's Notes

below.

I thank everyone who reviewed the Prologue. I will try to respond to

reviews that have unique points which need to be addressed, but

responding to 35 reviews for one chapter may take as long as writing the

chapter did. There were two negative reviews in the first batch. To them

I respond: You underestimate the potential a ghost has in the Harry

Potter universe, especially considering the groundwork I laid out in the

Prologue.

Quantum mechanics dictates that by observing something, you change it.

Therefore, all readers and reviewers are directly responsible for making

this story what it is today.

Italic text will be used for flashbacks, to emphasize individual words or to

show whole sentences are in another language. That other language will

usually be French in this story.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter One: The Widow and the Mark

Hermione wouldn't cry. She couldn't. Since the end of the Second Task

two days ago, Hermione had cried more and harder than at any time in

her life. Hermione couldn't speak. Two days of crying, pleading and

begging for someone to wake her up, to wake Harry up had cost her the

ability to make any noise at all. Madam Pomfrey offered to heal her vocal

chords, but the girl who had been closer to Harry… just Harry… than

any other living person refused a magical cure.

No cure by magic or muggle means could ever heal her heart.

-o\O/o-

Being a rescued hostage meant that she was perfectly placed on the

water's edge to see Headmaster Dumbledore and Headmistress Maxime

work frantically on both students dozens of meters off shore. She

assumed Harry had recovered quickly when Dumbledore turned from her

friend to charm the boat into motion and assist Madam Maxime. So

Harry just took a spear in the chest. Muggles survive similar accidents all

the time. Harry will spend a week in the infirmary and be done with it.

Right?

From that distance, no-one could see Albus Dumbledore lose the twinkle

in his eyes, nor could they hear his ragged breathing as the young man

who meant so much to him lay still and lifeless.

Short seconds after the boat began to head to shore several people in the

crowd applauded when they saw the little French girl sit up between the

two school heads. Hermione smiled at the thought of pulling out her

secret 'Lives Saved' scoreboard and adding to Harry's tally. He just got

one more devoted fan-girl to add to his collection. She pulled a few loose

brown strands of hair back behind her ear and re-adjusted her charms

text while waiting for the girl to lean over and give Harry a kiss or a hug

or something.

Somehow Hermione seemed to ignore the bright red circular stain in the

center of the girl's silk dress. Lines of red and pink marred the once

pristine white gown where fresh blood was collecting and where the lake

had washed earlier blood-loss away.

The festive atmosphere encouraged by beautiful sunny weather and

previous successful rescues was shattered by a horrible wail. Fleur's

hostage screamed and threw herself at Harry's form before the two adults

in the boat could stop her.

Hermione stood frozen. Crowd and judges alike waited in silence as

Madam Pomfrey hopped onto a broom and raced out to the boat while it

was still halfway out. Everyone watched helplessly as Madam Maxime

held the clawing and wailing little girl down so that both the Headmaster

and Madam Pomfrey could work on her injuries.

"God in Heaven above, don't let me be right this time." Hermione's

whispered prayer went unheard by mortal ears and unanswered by the

Divine.

It was simple logic really. They weren't treating him even though

everyone knew he was just as badly wounded as the girl, if not more so.

Why not treat him first if he's worse off? Why cry over him like he was

de.. dea… Hermione couldn't bear to finish that line of thought. Harry

couldn't be… that. He's the hero. He's the one who saves little girls from

trolls and snakes and dementors and mermen.

He's not moving.

Wake up, Harry! Wake up! Please! Hermione couldn't give up hope. Not

now. Not after everything they've been through together.

When the boat was less than ten meters from shore, Headmaster

Dumbledore turned and transfigured a large tent to cover the landing.

Seconds later, the boat and all occupants were hidden from view. All

anyone could hear was the sounds of a hysterical eight year old. A

moment before silence fell, likely due to a privacy charm of some sort,

Hermione and anyone else who spoke French clearly heard the girl say

two things.

"Come back!" The girl's voice was beginning to crack and turn hoarse.

"Don't leave me here alone, Harry! Momma, make Harry come back!"

Hermione couldn't take any more of this. She had to see Harry for herself.

If she just got into that tent then she would be able to prove that her ears

were lying. She would see Harry tickling the girl as the adults all stood

back and did their eye twinkle thing to each other. She just had to get

through the officials who were beginning to surround the tent.

Luckily, officials and security staff in the Wizarding World were fairly

inept compared to their muggle counterparts. Hermione put on a mask of

indifference and boldly walked straight up to Percy Weasley, who seemed

wavering between wanting to enter the tent and wanting to run away.

"I have an important message for the Headmaster from Deputy

Headmistress McGonagall. Let me pass." Look him in the eyes. Don't back

down. Harry's inside that tent!

Percy nodded and stepped aside. Hermione slipped through the tent flaps

and froze. Madam Maxime and Madam Pomfrey were working feverishly

over the silver-blonde eight year old. Hermione didn't notice. Headmaster

Dumbledore told her to leave, that she wasn't allowed in the tent. She

couldn't care less.

Harry was in front of her. He seemed relaxed… sleeping even. But then

his skin color was a bit off and she couldn't see his chest rise or fall. Oh

God, his chest. Hermione batted someone's hand off her shoulder as she

stared at the blood soaked break in his robes and the cross-cut pattern

carved into his skin from the merman's spear. Hermione saw Harry move

away – wait, she was being pulled away. No!

Outside the tent, the worried students, guests and officials heard a new

voice cry out from the tent. Hermione's screams and wails weren't quite

as high pitched as the little veela girl, but they were louder and carried

further.

Inside the tent, Hermione broke free of whoever was keeping her from

Harry and ran to the side of the table he lay atop. Planting a palm on the

table on either side of his head, she briefly wondered just how she was

supposed to save him this time. 'There's a prince in front of me. He must

be in an enchanted sleep or something. Kiss him!'

Hermione dipped in for her rescue kiss. Half way down to her goal, a red

jet of light caught the panicking Gryffindor between her shoulder blades.

As darkness claimed the poor girl, she raged against the fact that she was

only now going to sleep instead of waking up.

Hermione collapsed like a rag doll, their lips joining for the briefest of

moments in what may go down in history as Harry Potter's first and only

kiss on the lips.

-o\O/o-

Le Mystique

25 february 1995

TRIWIZARD TRAGEDY

Harry James Potter is dead. The young boy famous for defeating Dark Lord

Voldemort in England on Halloween Night,1981 lost his life in the Second

Task of the Triwizard Tournament which is being hosted by Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland. Witnesses claim that the four

Champions in this scandal ridden Tournament were tasked to retrieve hostages

from the depths of Black Lake on Hogwarts Grounds.

Monsieur Alain Algernon Delacour, father of Beauxbatons Champion Fleur

Delacour (17) and her sister/hostage Gabrielle (8), is officially protesting the

Second Task and English Headmaster Dumbledore for failing to ensure the

safety of students from all three schools during the Tournament. The Delacour

girls are of Veela decent, something Headmaster Dumbledore ignored when

designing a task which would involve Mermen, beasts who are well known to

have a violent history with many European Veela tribes.

While many have protested Mister Potter's (14) position as Fourth Champion

since Halloween, his personal actions are beyond reproach. When the four

Champions went underwater yesterday to retrieve 'something they would

sorely miss' Miss Delacour was singled out by underwater denizens of Black

Lake who were unwilling to release Gabrielle. While experts debate

Headmaster Dumbledore's relationship with the Merpeople, none can deny that

the creatures were angered to violence when Mister Potter chose to rescue not

only his own hostage, Ronald Weasley (14), but Gabrielle as well.

Mister Potter sought to shield the smaller girl from attack by shielding her with

his own body. With the entire Championship crowd watching from shore, a

merman impaled both children on one spear. It is unclear if Dumbledore

would have intervened at all were it not for Headmistress Maxime's personal

actions to rescue the mortally wounded children. Witnesses at first began to

applaud Mister Potter's health when both school figureheads ignored him to

heal Gabrielle. It is now clear that Mister Potter was already dead.

This year's Triwizard Tournament was promoted as being a way to unite the

three oldest schools of magic in the Wizarding World in a Celebration of skill,

natural ability and courage. It was promoted as being different from

tournaments in the past where contestants routinely died during the

competition. Many began to question the tournament organizers and officials

as soon as Harry Potter's name left the Goblet of Fire. Protests lessened when

Mister Potter flew his way past a Hungarian Horntail to prove that he did in

fact have natural ability and courage enough to complete the First Task with

strong marks. Perhaps with his death, Harry Potter can prove to everyone that

life is too precious to waste in such competitions.

Do not doubt that this year's tournament will continue, though some believe it

shouldn't. In the days and weeks to come, we will do our best to cover

international reactions to this tragedy. Readers, The Mystic urges you to write

in to our Paris Office and give us your views on the Triwizard Championship

and whether or not it should be continued in future years.

-o\O/o-

Hermione Jane Granger stood over Harry Potter's open grave overlooking

the shores of Black Lake with Hogwarts Castle visible on the far bank.

Her black dress robes and black veil made Hermione into the perfect

image of a young widow. Never mind that she had never given Harry

more than a light peck on the cheek. No girl in Hogwarts was closer to

Harry than she was.

Albus Dumbledore had insisted quite vigorously that Hermione be given

the honor of tossing the first handful of dirt onto Harry's casket. He had

to as a certain Slytherin rival of Harry's had been lobbying for the honor.

Minister Fudge was suitably bribed by the boy's influential father and the

fresh dragon dung was ready to be delivered. Dumbledore politely

refused Minister Fudge's request at least three times before young Draco

removed himself from contention.

Draco was sent to Saint Mungo's Thursday afternoon after a series of

rather inappropriate comments made in the middle of a somber lunch

was met with a hail of spellfire from three separate student tables. Other

members of Slytherin House remained quiet. For the first time in ten

years the other three Houses were willing to defy Severus Snape and get

revenge for any cut or slight that the 'dark' House attempted.

One handful of dirt had never felt so heavy to Hermione. In a cracked

and broken voice, Hermione risked her strained vocal chords so that

Harry would know that she was there.

"Who's going to flick bogeys into Ron's food when he's not paying

attention if you don't, Harry?" She tried to smile at her own joke, but it

came out as more of a facial tick that quickly faded. With a final push,

she whispered, "We c-could have had something wonderful Harry. I l-love

you."

With the very last remaining courage the once proud Gryffindor could

muster, Hermoine released the dirt over Harry's coffin. In a daze, the very

closest friend of the Boy-Who-Died was gently guided away by her

mother so that the Delacour girls could pay their respects. Behind her,

Hermione heard the now common cries of Gabrielle Delacour as she and

her sister released the second and third handfuls of dirt that would later

that day support a smooth black stone memorial. She wondered why

Harry wasn't being interred with his own family. Surely the Potter's have

a family cemetery or a family plot at some church or other.

Hermione looked around at the chosen burial site. As she glanced

around, several similarities between his life and his afterlife came to

mind. He was being isolated again. Harry was not with his mother and

father. He was trapped. Hermione knew that Harry looked at his Uncle's

house as though it were a prison even if he never admitted it openly. She

was beginning to see that Hogwarts may have been another prison for

her close friend. He had to sneak out when others could easily provide a

signed permission slip for Hogsmeade Weekends or other private family

functions. In death, Harry would forever be within the Headmaster's

reach. Any student would be able to honor his grave… or desecrate it.

Never again would non-magical Britain feel his presence.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a boy who hardly meant

anything to her anymore.

"You beat a bloody dragon! Get up you prat!" Ron was grabbed roughly

and hauled off by Fred and George. Ron wasn't the same either. His

jealousy had been drowned in a sea of guilt for not swimming to shore

faster. Still, he had nothing on the 'bushy-haired know-it-all'.

If only she had taught him more about water related charms. If only she

had given him lessons on the Veela – Merman conflicts which pepper

magical history just like the Goblin Wars do. If only she'd kissed him

before he died.

Were it not for her parents, Hermione may have already done something

rash to make sure Harry had company. They wouldn't bury her next to

him though, would they?

At least her dreams were pleasant now. In the Land of Nod, Harry was

there to give her a hand up or go for walks along the Thames or to take

trips to the Library. In her dreams, he always smiled. There was another

common theme in her dreams she couldn't properly explain. Gabrielle

Delacour was always there. The little Veela would be a few paces behind

or a few bookracks over, but she was always in sight. At least the girl is

always happy. She really should wipe her forehead though. She's got

some strawberry preserves or something up there.

-o\O/o-

"What about her?"

Your friend doesn't want to go at first, but he's quickly convinced and the

two of you sneak by students and professors alike looking for her.

You don't like the looks of that one Professor and you wonder why he's

on the wrong floor. Enough of that, she's in danger.

Your first sign of danger was a horrible smell. That's one load of wash

you don't want any part of. The sound comes next, a low grunt and a

shuffle.

You and your friend enter the shadows to get some manner of cover from

the massive thing which seems to just barely fit in the school halls. It had

a club. You really don't want to have to dodge that as the club's easily

bigger than you are.

Locking it into the first room it enters sounds like a good idea. Ha!

Gotcha! Victory was almost in your grasp when you hear the high

pitched scream of a terrified little girl.

"Hermione!" Both of you yell out at the same time.

As hard as it is to unlock that door and run into a room with a troll in it,

you can't leave her in there with that. Save her!

The poor girl was pulling herself into a terrified ball as the troll closed in

on her, knocking sinks off of the wall just because it could.

Your redheaded friend gets the troll's attention as you run around to the

girl and try to get her moving again. Time runs out as the troll starts to

go after the other boy. With a silent prayer you do the first thing that

comes to mind – jump on it's back and ram your wand up it's nose.

The redhead remembers that he has a wand too. Better yet, he uses it to

cast a spell. Lucky shot, mate!

You didn't even consider using that giant club against it's wielder.

She speaks up, "Is it – dead?"

"I don't think so," you reply, "I think it's just been knocked out."

You dig your wand back out of the troll's nose. Disgusting!

"Urgh – troll boogers." You try to get them off of your wand by rubbing it

on the troll's trousers, but it's slow going.

"Mommy!" Gabrielle sat up in bed. Her eyes were still closed.

Apolline Delacour pulled herself up next to her daughter. Gabrielle

wouldn't sleep alone now, not after the Second Task. "What is it, Angel?

Mother is here for you."

Without turning or opening her eyes, Gabrielle held out an invisible

wand.

"My wand is covered in troll boogers, Momma. Please clean them off."

Apolline took the imaginary wand from her daughter's hand and slowly

pulled the girl back down into bed.

"It's okay, Angel. Momma will have it all clean by morning. Go back to sleep,

Gabrielle." Her mother kissed Gabrielle's forehead right over her new

blemish. It was an odd little mark that almost looked like a kiss slightly

off center to the right. The family healer hasn't been able to do anything

to the mark yet. Perhaps time will wash it away.

Apolline returned to sleep with a girl who was never really awake to

begin with.

-o\O/o-

Hermione opened her eyes. Odd. Why would she dream about the troll

now? It's been years since she had that dream.

-o\O/o-

Morning came. March 1st would be the first day of classes since the

tragic Second Task and Hermione tried to pull herself together before

heading down to breakfast. The other girls in her dormitory waited in the

wings, Hermione was sure to need a shoulder to cry on. Right? Without

comment, she moved into the bathroom to prepare for the day.

Twenty minutes later, the mirror challenged Hermione in an effort to

finish their private argument.

"If you're going to act like a grieving widow today, dress like one!" In any

other situation, the muggleborn witch would have felt humiliated at

losing an argument with a mirror of all things. Instead she pulled out her

wand and got to work.

The other students would go silent as Hermione passed. She was wearing

her school uniform as usual but for one change. She had charmed

everything black. Black shirt, tie, skirt … everything was black. Even her

earrings were matte black rather than the polished gold they normally

were. Poor girl, everyone knew she was close to Potter, but Hermione is

acting like they were married or something.

Returning to the Great Hall allowed her to feel hidden in the crowd for a

little while. True, her black outfit today was different, but she didn't have

the pull Harry had to get attention. Nobody did. Hermione resolved to

eat what she could and be as invisible as possible today.

This was not to be.

As she contemplated the raspberry jam on her toast, a single snowy white

owl beat the usual morning rush and flew gracefully down the length of

Gryffindor's table. Getting mail early wasn't that unusual, but getting

Harry Potter's owl to deliver it was.

Hermione hadn't noticed noise levels dropping around her until a lone

bark got her attention. Hedwig had landed directly in front of her and

was holding out an official looking letter which bore the seal of

Gringotts.

"You should open that." These were the first words Ron Weasley had

spoken to her since Harry… it's been a few days.

Looking up, she noticed that a quarter of those in the Great Hall were

watching her and Hedwig. Hermione didn't like feeling the weight of so

many stares.

Neville Longbottom saw the seal on Hedwig's delivery and paled. "You..

you might want to open that now. They can be time sensitive sometimes,

bank notices I mean."

Lacking any reason to sneak away, she cracked the wax seal and opened

the letter. Hermione carefully read and then re-read the sharp angled

letters. 'Immediately', it said. Why not? She slowly pushed her entire

plate in front of the snowy white owl and got up.

"So what was it?" Ginny asked her brother moments after Hermione got

up and started walking towards the head table. He was very obviously

reading over Hermione's shoulder before.

Ron watched for a moment as Hermione walked straight up to the center

of the staff table and handed Headmaster Dumbledore the letter. "She's

been summoned to Gringotts. Harry's will is being read today and she's

mentioned in it."

Ginny looked around the room. "Just her?"

"Yeah. Hedwig's not got another letter and I don't see any other owls, so I

guess it's just her." Ginny knew she wasn't really close to the Boy-Who-

Li… Harry, but she kinda expected her brother to be called when

Hermione was. Weren't they best mates and everything?

Quiet as they had been, their voices still carried enough for other

Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw or two to overhear Ron's answer and push

the gossip along.

After himself reading the missive twice, Headmaster Dumbledore looked

down to Hermione. "I don't recall Harry ever taking the time to write a

will. Do you, Miss Granger?"

"No Sir. He never mentioned anything of the sort. That's a Goblin seal

though and I don't believe Hedwig would take part in any sort of prank."

"I don't believe she would either." The Headmaster looked somberly down

at the letter. "As it so happens, I need to restock my supply of lemon

drops. I would be honored if you would permit me to escort you to and

from the alley. As Mister Potter's Guardian in the Magical World, they

may call upon me in an official capacity."

When the Gryffindor Forth Year student and the School Headmaster left

the Great Hall together, noise returned to pre-Second Task levels for the

first time. Maybe the student population can begin its journey back to

normalcy while the Girl-Who-Grieved was away for an hour or two.

Fleur Delacour gazed through the doors of the Great Hall for a minute or

two after losing sight of the Granger girl. She didn't even realize that one

of her classmates had asked her a question until a soft tap on the

shoulder registered.

"Yes?"

"She must have loved him dearly, yes? Too dress all in black?" Fleur wasn't

the only one watching Miss Granger, then. She nodded quickly. "Maybe

they were just too naïve to notice. I never saw the two kissing, but Potter did

seem to spend a lot of time with Granger."

"And if the rumors are true? A will reading that she alone in this room

received a summons to? Perhaps you are right." Fleur thought about it for a

moment before pulling her wand out at the table. As her few close friends

watched, the Veela Triwizard Champion began to charm and transfigure

all of her jewelry matte black. Fleur wouldn't dare copy the Hermione's

transition completely, but she did add some black lacework trim to her

uniform fringe.

Fleur looked up to see about half of the Beauxbatons students and a

Hogwarts girl or two watching in mild confusion. Well, she supposed her

friends did deserve to hear her reasoning.

"Harry Potter was the little boy I took him to be in size only. A 'little boy'

would never have come between my sister and a two meter spear. My family

owes him much so I will honor him in this way. I can do no less." After a

moment of silence, several more Beauxbatons students followed her lead

in adjusting their uniforms to honor Harry Potter.

By the end of the day, one third of the student population would be

wearing some small black decoration or other that paid respect to the

dead Champion.

-o\O/o-

Diagon Alley was quiet. Hermione supposed that she and the Headmaster

must be coming through when magicals with regular jobs were on the

clock. This isn't to say that the alley was empty. On their block, a half

dozen or so witches and wizards were going about their business without

fuss.

Hermione fought back the desire to study her environment. One day she

would return and learn all there was to learn about the world she had

unwittingly stepped into on her eleventh birthday. Today, however, there

was business to be done.

Her stomach was beginning to stir up trouble as the imposing facade of

Gringotts revealed itself in the distance. Hermione looked to the

Headmaster for some reassurance that this would all turn out well, only

to find that he was not there. Her stomach troubles spiked and she

twirled around to look for the one crutch she had left.

Thank God. He was merely walking slower than Hermione was. Perhaps

she should allow the Headmaster to lead the way?

Was Albus Dumbledore really so important to her?

Outside of Hogwarts Castle, away from the constant reminders of the boy

who had meant so much to her, Hermione began to review her life in a

way she really hadn't attempted to since that first Owl Post shattered her

worldview.

Albus Dumbledore was the Headmaster of her school, a British magical

living legend as well as a very important figure in Wizarding politics. But

what was he to her? He was order. He was a role model… except that

now maybe he wasn't one as much as he used to be.

Albus, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, host of the Triwizard Championship,

was responsible for the safety of his students and guests of the school. A

short mental review of her last four years of life gave Hermione a very

negative opinion of just how well he would score on a mug- er, non-

magical annual review in that category. Was that normal here in the

Wizarding World? How many Hogwarts student's find themselves near

death during a typical Hogwarts term? How often is half of the third floor

forbidden on pain of death?

She had known the definition of disillusionment for quite some time.

Today, Hermione Granger truly understood what the word meant.

-o\O/o-

The Goblins were as gruff as ever. Powerful as Albus Dumbledore was,

Hermione could tell that the polite wording the teller and then floor

manager used was forced. Of course, considering her own treatment by

those well entrenched in magical society, she should have seen the

closed-mindedness and prejudice of Magical Britain long before today.

Draco Malfoy was a racial supremacist if ever there was one. Ron

Weasely wasn't as bad, but he wasn't good either. To this day, Ron still

treats Hermione and the other muggleborns as if their upbringing is an

oddity. His favorite comics focus on the idiocy of a 'mad muggle'.

Without Harry Potter to tie Hermione and Ron together, they have no

common ground apart from being Gryffindors. Honestly, Hermione

would have never been in danger of being flattened by a troll if it weren't

for that damn ginger.

Hermione mentally berated herself for using a slur in her own internal

rantings. Irony, much?

Was the rest of the Wizarding World just as bad as the closed off society

of Wizarding Britain?

Maybe not.

Look at Beauxbatons. The Headmistress is a half-Giantess. Their star

pupil has Veela ancestry. Hermione had some studying to do.

Her internal monologue was abruptly cut off when a Goblin waiting in

front of some rather nice carved doors chose to interrupt.

"Miss Granger. We did not say that you could bring any guests with you."

She blushed. What was she going to say: It wasn't my fault? I can't tell

Albus Dumbledore where to go and when to stay away?

"As the Magical Guardian to all orphans and muggleborn students at

Hogwarts, I am attending in an official capacity. Please let us through."

The Headmaster maintained his 'kind grandfather' look while staring

down the Goblin before him.

Hermione's eyes were wide in shock. Really though, she shouldn't have

been surprised. Upon review… yes, she did remember seeing that detail

in Hogwarts: A History. But to realize that the man had legal authority

over her which could probably negate her own parent's wishes in the

Magical World... Hermione was suddenly very thankful that the Goblins

ran the bank independent from Wizarding oversight.

"You were not mentioned in the will. You will not enter." The Goblin

turned to the lone child in the hall. "Miss Granger, enter the room."

Not one to question orders, Hermione began to move. A hand came down

on her shoulder.

"As the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I declare this Will sealed."

Hermione's heart was racing. Any minute now, she expected to see wand

and steel drawn and she would get to see Harry again.

"You are too late, Wizard." Hermione had never heard the word 'wizard'

used as an insult before. "This Will was acted upon the moment Harry

Potter's heart stopped. You never did 'find' his parents' wills for us, did

you? Wait for her outside, Mister Dumbledore."

For a moment, his hand stayed where it was. What did he hope to gain?

Not enough, apparently. The Headmaster took a deep breath and lifted

his hand off of Hermione's shoulder. She looked up into his eyes.

"I hope you can forgive an old man his transgressions, Miss Granger. We

have both lost much, and I am caught trying to save what little I can."

Headmaster Dumbledore looked ahead as if he could see through those

heavy decorative doors to the Will inside. "It's nineteen eighty-one all

over again. Perhaps I should tread more carefully this time."

As the Headmaster turned to leave, Hermione called out, "Will you be

waiting outside, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

He looked to her once more. "Perhaps we can meet at Florean Fortescue's

for some ice cream, my dear. I daresay we will both need a bit of fresh

air and some sugary treats after this morning's business is complete. After

I acquire some more lemon drops of course… can't forget about those."

She almost smiled. Harry would have smiled.

"It's about bloody time." The Goblin must have been on his last frayed

nerve. He opened doors before her and showed Hermione swiftly to a

single seat on one side of a heavy oak table. Two Goblins were already

sitting opposite her with scrolls and ledgers open.

"Right. You are Miss Hermione Granger, are you not?" The more smartly

dressed of the two Goblins began without even looking at her. Why

would he need to though, she was the only one invited.

"I am, Sir." The second sitting Goblin seemed to nod and grunt towards

his parchments.

"The wards agree. Very well." He looked up for the first time. Hermione

was struck with the idea that this Goblin more closely resembled

Professor Flitwick than the others she'd passed today. Perhaps they were

related.

"I have here the Will of Harry Potter, written and sent to us on the

twenty-third day of November, 1994. As you are the only one mentioned

in the will, we will dispense with the pageantry of a public reading. Mr.

Potter wrote the entire document as if it was a letter to you, Miss

Granger, therefore you have the option to read it yourself or have me

read it to you." Her eyes were getting moist the moment he said 'Harry'.

Her first tear hit the table surface as soon as she heard how Harry wrote

it.

She held out a shaking hand and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. In

her own head, Harry could read it to her himself.

November 23rd, 1994

This is the Last Will and Testament of Harry Potter.

Hermione,

If you are reading this parchment, then I must be dead. Considering what

I must do tomorrow, I am probably a pile of dragon shite at whatever

time you end up reading this.

If I am a pile of dragon shite, then I beg you to get that pile to the twins

so that they can find a way to get all of Hogwarts to eat me during

breakfast.

Please, please, please laugh at my joke, Hermione.

Now for the real will.

I find myself writing this and wondering why God hates me. I only know

of one person who is willing to support me. One person smart enough to

see that I couldn't have put my name in that damn goblet and that same

person is the only one who has always been there for me.

You.

You never lost faith in me, Hermione. You kept me alive when we were

Ickle Firsties. You figured out the Basilisk for me in second year. You

traveled through time to help me save my Godfather and stop a noble

creature from being butchered. You reported the Firebolt for me, I

understand that now. You alone helped me train for this championship.

I'll not suffer fair weather friends in death and I ask that you reject them

in life.

Now that I find myself with what may be less than twenty-four hours to

live, I see what you mean to me. Hermione, you are the only living

person in my heart. There's Mum and Dad and you and that's it. I'm not

saying that we would've, like, gotten married or anything, but maybe. I

don't know. Big sister would have worked too.

So, as you are either the sister I never had or the wife I never married, I

hereby give you all that I own, whatever that happens to be. If I can give

it to you, then it's yours.

Well, there's only one thing left to say that I've never said before in my

life. I really hope that I can get the chance to do so face to face before

some damn dragon snaps my spine like a sugar quill.

If I don't ever see you again,

I Love You

Harry Potter

Hermione couldn't laugh. She couldn't cry. She couldn't breathe. Luckily,

Goblins were used to this kind of reaction and had spells ready to catch

her as Hermione's vision faded.

-o\O/o-

Twenty minutes later, Hermione came to in a small sitting room of some

sort. I the back of her mind, she realized that she had just properly used

the one piece of furniture that was completely obsolete in non-magical

England; a fainting chair. While she tried to sit up and take stock of

herself, she heard something hit the floor by her feet.

Glancing down, there was a small ledger book with a key tied to the face

and a certified copy of the Will. She picked up the parchment and the

ledger and looked around. As her feet hit the floor for the first time, a

door off to her right opened slightly allowing her to hear some random

discussions in voices too low to make the details out. Magic, no doubt.

This must be how the Goblins ask grieving widows and other family to

leave without being there in person. On reflection, Hermione approved. A

sour Goblin frown was not very supportive to the bereaved. She stopped

by a small mirror and make-up stand by the door and cleaned herself up

a bit.

-o\0/o-

"Oh, you poor dear. You look miserable." Hermione looked up from her

ice cream to see who had addressed her.

-click-

"Miss Skeeter. I wish I could say that I am pleased to meet you, but now

is not a good time." The Headmaster sighed and looked as though he

were disappointed at his former pupil.

"Our beloved Headmaster and a young witch sharing ice cream together

when they both ought to be in school? How scandalous!" Rita,

opportunist that she was, pulled up a chair and sat down uninvited at

their table. As soon as she sat down, she placed a clean sheet of

parchment on the table and held a quill above it. When she let go of the

quill, it began scratching furiously on the parchment below without her

hand so much as getting in the way.

"We are here on business, Miss Skeeter. My student was summoned from

school to attend to private matters and I saw fit to escort her." If

Dumbledore were vague enough, perhaps the drivel Rita Skeeter came up

with would be ignored. Her stories always need a fact or two in them to

keep the rest of the manure believable.

"But she looks so sad, Headmaster." Rita looked into Hermione's eyes

with as soft and inviting a face as she could muster on short notice.

"Perhaps a little witch talk would do you some good. Whatever it is, dear,

I've been there already. What do you say?"

Rita moved her hand to cover Hermione's causing the bushy haired witch

to shrink back into her chair. Rita's hand briefly paused over the folded

parchment sitting atop Hermione's new ledger, but she pulled back when

then Headmaster sat up a little straighter.

"We really must be getting back to Hogwarts. Come along Miss Granger, I

believe that Miss Skeeter has what she came for." The old Headmaster

rose from the table and helped Hermione from her chair. He briefly

sighed in disappointment when looking over to Rita's clasped hands and

her still active quill.

-o\0/o-

The next morning, Hermione walked into the Great Hall to the excited

whispers of the entire student body. While confused, she tried to ignore

them all. Harry was a good role model in that respect.

Her ability to block it all out was shattered when Neville, who she sat

down next to, slowly pushed a copy of the morning paper in front of her.

Right on the front cover was a picture of herself and the Headmaster. The

picture showed Hermione acting the part of a grieving widow from her

sad broken face to the all black clothing. But that wasn't enough

apparently.

Somehow that bitch Skeeter must have made a copy of the will.

Hermione didn't even bother reading past the headlines when she

recognized the handwriting so accurately depicted. She didn't care that

there were two articles focusing on her relationship with Harry and two

more which speculated wildly on the possible meanings of every word

and phrase Harry wrote. An 'expert' even tried to analyze which of the

nine visible tear stains were likely Harry's and which were Hermione's.

Hermione could have told them if she had ever bothered to read the

paper. The original and certified copies were charmed to repel staining.

All tear stains were faked by Skeeter to build up drama.

Ginny took the initiative and pulled Hermione up from the table.

Lavender and Parvati quickly stepped in when Ginny almost lost her grip

on the older Gryffindor and three witches gently guided her back up to

the Gryffindor fourth year girl's dorm where she would spend most of the

day.

Back in the Great Hall, a new nickname for Hermione was beginning to

make the rounds.

Mrs. Potter.

-o\0/o-

31 march 1995

Dearest Mother,

I am well. The food here continues to insult my palette, but I will not die from

it.

How is Gabrielle coping? You write about her dreams, but you give no details.

Mother, do not tease. My imagination is full of horrid nightmares where those

thrice damned mermen torment my Little Gabby and make her witness Harry's

death again. Is she returning to her lessons? And what of her friends? I know

what little girls are like and Gabby will be going back to class with that mark

on her head.

Life begins to return to Hogwarts Castle, I think. I admit that we and the

Durmstrang students were better able to move past Harry Potter's death even

honoring him as we do, but I sometimes have to remember how important he

was to our hosts. These English wizards show no sense of decency, Mother. At

least once a day, a student from Slytherin House or perhaps Ravenclaw insults

the deceased. Why the Professors tolerate this behavior, I have no idea. Is it

any wonder when revenge is had by Potter's supporters? Yet again the students

get away with so much that would have them suspended or even expelled from

Beauxbatons.

I feel bad for Miss Granger, Mother. You can comfort Gabrielle and I can

write her letters, but Hermione is alone in Hogwarts. I and my friends do not

see her talking to other students. It is rumored that Harry was the leader of

her clique and that the small group is broken without him. If anything, those

articles about Hermione and Harry understate how important Harry was to

the girl. I think I will approach Hermione and ask her to write to Gabrielle.

Please bring Gabrielle with you when you visit for the Third Task. I miss you

all terribly.

Your Loving Daughter,

Fleur

-o\0/o-

"Excuse me, Fleur?"

"Oui, Cedric?" Fleur looked up from her studies to find the other two

Champions standing together behind her. Apparently her classmates had

noticed the serious look both boys had adopted and were clearing the

table.

"Could Victor and I have a moment of your time?" Cedric took note of the

half-dozen girls who were picking up books and parchments, clearly

intending to leave the table. "I don't wish to disturb you. If you would

rather we talk at a later date…"

"No need to apologize, Mister Diggory. We were just leaving." The curly

haired brunet who addressed Cedric looked over to Fleur. "Both of them?

Try to leave something for the rest of us, Fleur. We like quidditch players too."

"I don't know what you mean." Fleur held up her nose in mock insult.

"Whore." The brunet was smirking.

"Slut." That's what good friends are for. Fleur was smiling for the first

time in days.

As the other Beauxbatons girls left the Library table to take their studies

elsewhere, both Cedric and Victor sat across the table from the female

Champion. Cedric briefly scanned the room, taking note of several

students which seemed to be interested in the unusual meeting of three

school champions. Doing this in the middle of the library is sure to start

rumors, but these would be much better than the rumors they'd get for

sneaking off to meet in an empty classroom.

"Well, Fleur… Victor... thank you both for agreeing to meet with me."

Cedric looked at each of the other Champions in turn. "I asked the two of

you to meet with me because what happened to Harry is really getting to

me recently."

"You suspect ve vill have trouble in Third Task?" Victor continued to look

off at some distant point. The boy had yet to meet Cedric's gaze directly.

Still, he was paying attention.

"Yes. I know Harry was just fourteen and in his fourth year. He hadn't

even taken the O.W.L.'s yet. But he did great in the First Task and in the

Second… well… he was doing so well until they followed him up to the

surface." The three of them paused in mutual respect for a fallen

Champion.

"Is true. I vould not have done better taking two hostages. Spear verk

well on visard and shark." Victor looked down at the table.

"That merman would have killed me too. I didn't have any idea that

they'd be so violent to you or your sister, Fleur. I'm sorry for not

knowing." Cedric felt real guilt. He had asked around and found that no-

one he knew in Hogwarts had any idea that there was bad blood between

the Veela and the Merpeople. History of Magic and the Care of Magical

Creatures classes clearly weren't doing their jobs to miss something like

that.

"If 'eadmaster Dumbledore 'ad just told Madam Maxime what was under

ze lake, she could 'ave told 'im ze big mistake. Do not blame yourself."

Cedric sighed and nodded in thanks. The guilt wouldn't go away so easily

though.

"Never the less. Both tasks so far were far deadlier than I had been told to

expect. The Daily Prophet ran articles devoted to the safety measures in

place to keep us alive. Now I find myself unable to trust the Headmaster

to ensure my safety. I need to see to my own well being."

"So you find us to talk togezer without ze 'eadmasters separating us. You

wish to train togezer, no?" Fleur had been having similar thoughts

recently. Albus Dumbledore has been spending a lot of time outside of

the castle defending his actions and defending his long time allies, the

merpeople. To date, four merpeople had been found dead near known

merman colonies in the UK. All showed signs of meeting violent ends.

"Yes. We need to watch each other's backs. I'm fine sharing the win or

giving it up if that's the only way to ensure that we all walk away in the

end." The other two Champions nodded.

"I volunteer vatch Veela back. Is better back to vatch." Krum wasn't

smiling, but his face had changed to be slightly less harsh. Was he

joking?

"I don't blame you." Cedric grinned as Fleur fought back a blush.

"Speaking of… Is your allure something you can reduce or turn off for a

bit? I'd rather see the deadly beasts approaching than die staring at your

arse, Fleur."

"Oui. I can reduce it enough so zat you do not notice. Next, let us talk of

a practice schedule and where to practice…"

The three Champions spent over an hour together in the Library. For the

first night in weeks, Harry and Hermione were not the biggest rumor

topics at dinner in the Great Hall.

-o\0/o-

"Granger."

Hermione froze, a fork covered in pork hovering near her open mouth.

Discreetly, several Gryffindors at the table palmed their wands. It had

been a long time since Draco had spoken directly to Hermione or Ron, a

sure sign that he was about to make up for the lack of harassment by

overdoing it.

"I see what hangs about your neck. Dirty as Scarhead was, he was still the

heir of an old pureblood family. Had he married well, his children could

still have been accepted in proper society." Hermione placed her left

hand over her chest, covering the item hidden beneath her cloak. She

didn't think anyone would notice that she had tied Harry's wand to a

chain and started wearing it as a necklace once or twice a week.

"A mudblood like you has no business inheriting the legacy of a Noble

House." Draco frowned. She had not turned around to address him yet.

"As I am a relative, however distant, to Potter through the Blacks, I

demand that you hand over all Potter assets. We'll start with the wand."

"You forget, Malfoy, that my family is about as close to the Potter line as

yours. I also know that we are both far too distant in blood to have any

claim on HER THINGS. Potter was clear in his Will. Go. Away." Ron's

wand wasn't out, but he was close enough not to need one.

"Potty's gone, Weasel. Though, I should have known you'd still side with

Granger. Ah! I understand! All you have to do his get this bitch to spread

her legs and the Potter gold is as good as-"

Ron's fist slammed into Draco's chin. As the blonde spun around, Ginny

reared back and drove her foot into the Malfoy family jewels with

enough force to crack diamonds.

Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward to get some revenge and chaos

erupted along the Gryffindor table.

-o\0/o-

"Gigi! Aimee!" Gabreille ran to her classmates. She hadn't attended class

since before visiting her sister in Scotland.

"Gabby!" The girls were quite excited to see her. Gabrielle was always a

good friend before, but now she was their famous good friend. Still, what

good was a famous good friend if she never came to school?

Unlike their British counterparts, the French Ministry of Magic chose to

follow many trends established by their non-magical neighbors in the last

two hundred years. One result is formal education for magical students as

early as age three. Granted, French children do not get their own wands

until about the same time as their English counterparts. No-one wants to

see a childish tantrum multiplied by spellfire. This is not to say that these

young witches and wizards only learn magical material, far from it. Non-

magical history, arts, maths and sciences were covered as well. While the

French Revolution did not significantly damage rich magical families in

France, these lucky pockets of nobility watched their non-magical

counterparts learn a terminal lesson. Common men are not helpless.

"What's that on your head?" Seems like an innocent enough question... if

you're not a little girl surrounded by status obsessed little girls. Gigi

didn't mean anything by it. Not that the secret would have been kept for

long but did she have to blurt it out so loud?

Several groups of girls and boys stopped devouring their lunches to

watch the Girl-Who-Lived come back to school after her disastrous trip to

Hogwarts.

"Wow! You really did steal Harry Potter's scar!" A largish boy near the back

yelled out. Gabrielle and her friends turned to the brute.

"Did not! Gabby wouldn't do that, she liked him. She liked him liked him.

You don't go stealing scars off people you like like." Gabby was glad to have

friends that will always take her side, but that defence was making her

blush. Blushing only made the mark stand out more. Well that's new; her

mark is tickling some.

"So, Girl-Who-Lived. How DID you get your scar?" A lot of boys and girls

were now glaring at the troublemaker. This didn't change the fact that

they wanted to know the answer to his question. Professor Royal, at the

opposite end of the room, was watching closely for a good excuse to step

in.

"He... umn... kindof... kissedmewhenwewereunderwater... thenhedied..." Head

down, Gabrielle mumbled out the answer so that only a few near the

front of the classroom could hear.

"He kissed you?" Aimee forgot the whole 'thenhedied' bit for a moment. A

famous fourteen year old boy kissed Gabby. "Wow- but, kisses don't stain.

Do they?"

"Magic kisses do! They save lives too. Those grown-ups didn't save me, Harry

did! He saved me RIGHT HERE!" Gabrielle ended her point by poking

herself in the forehead. She would never need a mirror to point to her

mark. She could feel it. She could always feel it.

It started small but quickly grew. What began as a child's story became

rumor and then official research. It would take time to find it's way back

to England, but the legend of Potter's Mark was born.

End Chapter

3. United We Stand

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Two: United We Stand

May 29th, 1995

Victor dove out of the sun, nearly taking Cedric's head off with a high

speed pass a hundred meters or so above the highest tower of Hogwarts

Castle.

The message was clear: Tag, you're it.

As the French Triwizard Champion looked up at the two wizards, she

admired the interaction between two seekers who were seeking each

other in turn. She realized early on that Victor had to hold back on

occasion or Cedric would never manage a tag.

"Why aren't you up there with them? Isn't this part of your training?"

Hermione had walked up behind Fleur as the statuesque Veela posed

atop her own broom and floated along at head height.

"Zey are boz seekers. I like to fly, but my broom is not for competing. Zis

one is more for comfort." The two witches looked on as Vicktor began to

lead Cedric down an invisible slalom course between castle towers.

"Would... would it help you train if you had a better broom?"

"Oui. I should say, it would if I use ze better broom in ze Final Task. Zere

is no way to tell what skill is needed and what is a waste, so we train

some in all zings." Fleur turned to the younger witch to see Hermione

studying the broom she was resting on.

"I didn't know that they had ones made for comfort. I have a broom;

Harry's broom. It's important to me, but I think he would have wanted to

see it used." Hermione looked back up to the two figures darting about

over the battlements.

"I've never tried it myself, mind you, so I don't know how comfortable it

is, but it's supposed to be the best broom in Hogwarts except maybe for

what Victor's on."

"It is... what was ze name again... a Firebolt, no?" Fleur was surprised.

This must be the broom Harry used to get past the dragon. Why would

Hermione make such an offer? "I zink zat broom would get me up zer

with zem. If you would allow me to use 'arry's broom for ze rest of ze

year, I could teach you 'ow to use zis one. She is a good broom for

relaxing in ze air. Zen we get you a broom which suits you during ze

summer."

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, I've never liked flying on brooms. I thought I

would die during my First Year flying lessons. Never went up again."

Hermione was actually quite disappointed with that part of her

education. She was a witch, was she not? All muggles knew witches flew

on brooms. It's one of the things her parents were hoping to get to see

once Hermione was legal to perform spell-work at home.

"'ermione, I 'ave seen ze brooms 'ogwarts teaches on and I would not

touch zem wiz ze blasting curse. At Beauxbatons, we use good, safe

brooms which do much of ze work for you. 'ere, zey teach you all on

flying firewood. 'ow disgraceful." Fleur saw something in Hermione's

eyes. Hope? Whatever it was, it was more positive than anything she had

seen from the girl since Harry's death. "Did 'arry ever offer to take you

up?"

"Y-yes, a few times. I just couldn't do it. We did go flying together once

though. It was on the back of a Hippogriff. That was... well, it was nice."

Her ever present heartache was pushed aside in favor of the warm

feelings that night still generated. Hermione never realized how romantic

riding Buckbeack with her arms around Harry had been until now.

Hermione wanted to have more in common with Harry, more to

remember him by. Learning to fly a broom, eventually flying his own

Firebolt, would really impress him. Well, it would if he could see her

doing it.

"I'll go get the Firebolt. But... it's way up in Gryffindor tower. You may

not get your chance to use it today."

"'op on be'ind me." Fleur scooted forward and then patted the broom

shaft behind her. Hermione hesitated.

"Your room 'as a window, yes?" Hermione nodded. "Zen we shall fly to it!

My broom may not be for racing, but she can fly well enough for zis."

Hermione cautiously mounted Fleur's broom behind the Veela. Her

eyebrows rose as she discovered that this broom did indeed feel softer

and more stable than the school broom she learned on. But how- wait.

Hermione mentally berated herself for forgetting that she didn't need to

see the effects of magic to feel them.

Five minutes later, Victor and Cedric were drifting through the shadow of

the Astronomy tower when they spotted Hermione gliding up to them on

Fleur's broom.

"Hermionie? You like brooms now?" Victor was surprised. She clearly

stated her distaste for flying when they were dancing at the Yule Ball.

It was Hermione's turn to be surprised. This was the first time Victor got

her name right on the first try.

"I need to learn how to fly. I may not be ready to try Harry's Firebolt

today... but one day I will be." She decided to sidestep the issue of broom

design for now. It was almost time.

"Well, I'm impressed. I know you've got brains enough for Ravenclaw, but

you've also got the loyalty and work ethic of a Badger." Cedric was

smiling at her. Perfect, he wasn't looking up.

Vwooosh!

Both seekers yelped and jerked back as a light blue silk clad cannon ball

with silver-blonde hair shot past them from above and finished her first

ever Wronski Feint about twenty meters off the ground.

"Sometimes I think Slytherin would have done much better if he were

willing to take ambitious and cunning students regardless of blood

purity." With that comment, Hermione followed Fleur down to the

courtyard.

"Ve should punish girls for dis prank?" Victor was... well, to be honest,

Victor was aroused by the girls' teamwork.

"Let's draw it out some, Vic." Cedric brought his eyes back up to Victor

from observing the brown haired witch far below them. "That was the

first smile I've seen on Hermione's face in months."

Victor nodded.

The chase was on.

-o\O/o-

"And there he is."

Four students with green and silver ties stopped their lunchtime stroll.

Black Lake was quiet and smooth behind them as they formed a half

circle around the smooth black stone memorial on the shore opposite

Hogwarts Castle.

"He doesn't look so damned heroic now, does he?" One upper year

prefect, the leader of this particular expedition kicked a pebble across the

polished surface. One of the girls giggled in support.

"We're here, so now what? You said you would bring some dragon dung

with you." The other boy in the group was getting impatient. He was of

the opinion that you were supposed to eat lunch during your lunch

period, that or do something worth doing.

"Draco begged off. I thought he of all people would have wanted to do

this, but..." He looked at the girls behind him. "You two may want to look

away if you don't want to see the act... you can't say who did it if you

didn't see them doing it, right?"

"This is sick. I'm leaving." The blonde girl turned to step away before a

large hand wrapped around her wrist.

"I didn't know you liked Potty, Greengrass. Such bad taste in boys." The

prefect spit out.

"I don't like him any more than you do. You just don't disrespect the dead

in their graves. Have you no sense of tradition? Of family honor? We're

all related to Potter if you look far enough into the past." Daphne

Greengrass pulled free and began to walk away.

"I'll be sure to tell Draco you turned on us!" The other girl shot back.

"All you do is choke on his cock all day, Pansy. It's a wonder we ever

hear your voice at all."

As Daphne continued back down the lakeside path, the prefect dropped

trow and maneuvered himself over Potter's grave. She heard the other

boy say something about supervised detention in a broom cupboard but

knew they didn't have the political pull to make that work. Not even

Draco could force that punishment through. Morgana knows he's tried.

As the Slytherin girl got far enough away not to hear individual words,

the prefect started screaming. By the time Daphne turned to see what was

wrong, Pansy Parkinson and the other boy had added their screams to

his.

A quick spin to the ground was all that kept Daphne from catching a ball

of fire in the chest herself. She risked opening her eyes just long enough

to see that fireworks were erupting from the ground immediately around

Potter's grave in a fountain of fire, light and noise.

"Protego!" Her shield deflected two more pyrotechnic shells before the

first professor managed to arrive and begin disabling traps.

Two minutes later, Daphne was suffering the combined glares of

Headmaster Dumbledore and her own Head of House, Professor Snape.

She didn't hold back, not that she wanted to. Those idiots deserved to

suffer for disturbing the dead.

-o\O/o-

Hermione scooped another fork full of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

After a brief mental debate, she decided to have a second helping of

bacon and sausage for the first time in months. Maybe this breakfast

would be her chance to turn a corner and start improving her lot in life.

Today, she was going to go flying with Fleur again. Hermione, gasp,

actually looked forward to it.

Hermione owed this change, once again, to a mirror with attitude. 'Any

lighter and you're sure to float away' it said. On reflection, she knew that

you weren't supposed to be able to see your hip bone so clearly. Her

clothing was hanging loose recently, too. If nothing else, Hermione

wanted to at least look normal. And to look like a normal girl – er –

witch, she needed a bit more padding around the middle.

Of course, the day Hermione resolves to do something positive in her life

is the day another owl lands in front of her during the morning delivery

rush. The owl itself is not a particularly noteworthy owl, average in size

and coloring and not unlike the hundreds of other owls that make

deliveries to Hogwarts.

It took Hermione actually looking over the Ministry of Magic notice for

her attempt at a normal breakfast to go right to Hell. Her left hand

grabbed desperately at her chest as bits of egg and sausage fell from her

open mouth.

The Ministry wanted Harry's wand.

- - - - -

June 4th, 1995

From the Office of the Minister for Magic

Hermione Granger,

It has come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic that you possess

Harry Potter's Holly and Phoenix Feather wand. This wand has been

declared a historic artifact by order of the Minister for Magic.

You are hereby ordered to release Harry Potter's wand into the protective

custody of Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge or a duly appointed

representative of the Minister for Magic.

On June 24th, the day of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament,

you will have the honor of symbolically relinquishing the wand to

Minister Fudge. This will occur during the Final Ceremony and shortly

after you make a speech; one which will be provided to you before the

ceremony. No deviations from the approved script will be allowed.

Dolores Umbridge

Senior Under-Secretary

to the Minister for Magic

- - - - -

Hermione suppressed the fresh pain that still comes when someone

mentions Harry. Anger prevailed. How could they ignore Harry's wishes?

How could they take Harry's wand from her? How could they expect her

to speak in front of a crowd without knowing what it is they want her to

say?

The ministry owl barked at her.

"I don't have a reply. Go back to your owner." While the brown bird was

not smart enough to understand what Hermione said, it did leave twenty

minutes later after Hermione left the Great Hall and failed to return.

-o\O/o-

Albus fell back into his chair and reached for a lemon drop. Truth be

told, he needed something stronger than sugar right now.

Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall were having a terrible row in the

Headmaster's Office. Severus was demanding the Weasley twins be

expelled immediately with all house points removed from Gryffindor.

Minerva countered that no-one knew who had so heavily protected Harry

Potter's burial site. In fact, the only thing that was well documented was

the attempt by three of his snakes to desecrate the grave, which was an

Official Ministry Historic Marker in case Severus forgot.

Severus of course pointed out that Daphne didn't actually see the

desecration. He refused to comment on the fresh pile of fecal matter

found on the black stone slab or the amount of burned skin on his young

charge's posterior. There was clearly no burnt layers of cloth where a

magical mortar shell made contact with his backside. Madam Pomfrey

had to re-create half of the boys right buttock. Miss Parkinson was

regrowing hair in the Hospital Wing overnight.

"Albus! I'm only going to say this one time..." Minerva looked back to the

Headmaster from her last verbal tirade against Snape.

"Four hundred points from Gryffindor." Snape muttered just loud enough

to officially count.

"You will reverse that or I shall see every Slytherin student fourth year

and above in the school in detention for the rest of the year! I'll oversee

them personally!" His comment was too petty to ignore for the proud

Scott.

"Minerva, please be reasonable-" But the Headmaster was cut off.

"Reasonable? You let Severus take points for NO REASON without

question. You have been sitting there quietly listening as this man insults

both Harry and James Potter repeatedly and you say nothing. You who

claim to have loved Harry like your own grandson?" The Deputy

Headmistress almost couldn't speak, she was so angry.

"I am canceling both punishments as they are both without merit." After a

deep breath, Albus looked over to Minerva.

"You may punish the three Slytherins as is appropriate to their crimes.

We will all seek to find those who set the surprisingly elaborate defenses

around Harry's memorial and they too will be punished as is appropriate

to their crimes." Albus looked between his two most important faculty

members before settling his gaze once more on the Head of Gryffindor

House.

"You must realize, Minerva, that we now have the next generation of

dark wizards here as students. They need special handling if we are to

have any hope of swaying them to the light." She'd heard this before

during less troubling times and it bothered her then too.

"You seek to turn dark wizards light by allowing them to bully and

otherwise abuse the rest of the student population? How does that work?

I've told you time and time again, Albus, that your plan isn't working.

And what of the light wizards of the future? They come out of our school

cowed and beaten. We've been teaching them to take the abuse without

defending themselves; we've been teaching them that the authority

figures won't defend them and in fact will defend their abusers." Minerva

pinched the bridge of her nose.

In most cases that's exactly how the Ministry works. Heavy bribes tend to

have that effect on public officials.

"I've been blindly supporting you long enough. I've let absurd

punishments go unanswered for far too long. Albus, by the end of the

year, Severus leaves this school or I will."

Without another word, Minerva McGonagall stormed out of the

Headmaster's office. She didn't bother to hide her anger from staff or

students that she passed by that evening, either. She really didn't know

herself if she would follow through on her threat. She did know that if

Snape continued as he normally does with his rewards and punishments

then she would balance him point for point and detention for detention.

-o\O/o-

Fire sputtered and flared inside of a sizable fireplace situated in opposite

a pair of large doors in the entry foyer to the Delacour family's manor

house. Seconds later, a petit form shot out of the flames and bounced

along the marble floor.

"Momma! I'm home!" Gabby began to pick herself up, all the time

wondering when she forgot how to exit the floo. She was so good at it

before... Momma would not be pleased.

"Welcome back my Little Angel. How were your classes today?" Her mother's

voice could be heard through an open doorway to the Study.

"I did well again in English today, Mother." Gabby was very proud of her

new best subject. She's gotten perfect scores before, but never in her

language classes. "Absolon was a pest today, but Gigi kicked him in the shin

when Madam Royal was not looking!"

"I am very happy that you have such good friends, Gabby, but you should

know that violence isn't the answer." Apolline responded absently with her

head still bent over the parchments delivered with today's mail. "You have

a visitor."

Gabrielle quickly looked over to the Study's owl stand. Hedwig gave the

newcomer a short bark hello and lifted up a letter laden leg. Gabby

smiled brightly for the pretty bird and skipped over to take her mail.

"Good afternoon-" Gabby cut herself off and tried again in English. "Good

afternoon, Hedwig. Thank you again for spending your spare time with

us but aren't you supposed to be Miss Granger's owl now?"

Hedwig gave a few chirps and barks which may have meant something to

other owls. Gabby took the letter from her leg and lightly rubbed

Hedwig's back for a moment. Once the novelty of petting Hedwig wore

off, she ran over to her father's empty seat and opened her letter.

"It's from Hermione, Momma. She say's 'hi' to everyone and wants to hear

about my classes."

"That's right. The dear was quite surprised to find out just how differently we

handle education on this side of the Channel. Such a bright girl, I hate to see

her potential wasted in a country that will never accept her for what she is."

Apolline finished the letter she was working on with a flared signature

and a wax family seal.

"Why?"

"The British, Angel. Their witches and wizards are so backwards compared to

us or even to their own non-magical neighbors. Hermione's parents are non-

magical and many of her peers will hate her for that." She hated taking away

her daughter's innocence like this, but the girl had to learn sooner or

later. In no time at all, Gabrielle will start growing just as her sister did

before her. She will soon learn what it means to lose friends because

Veela are different.

At least this time Fleur could help. Perhaps Hermione could too. Apolline

made a note to send a book on Veela history and customs to the

muggleborn Gryffindor. If she could learn the book's more important

lessons then Alain would surely hire her after graduation. Unlike many in

the French Ministry of Magic, Apolline's husband was not 'above' hiring

English graduates if they showed potential.

"Deeaarrr, Her – mi – o – ne." Gabby began her own letter in reply. "I am

wellllllll. Ab – so – lon was mean to me, but my ver – y best – est friend

Gi – gi kicked him. I like her she is a good friend."

Gabrielle continued to say aloud what she was writing. Even with her

new found skill with the English language, spelling it all correctly and

maintaining her penmanship was hard for the eight year old. Gabby went

on to write of learning about the famously scandalous witch, Joan of Arc.

Gabby ignored her boring math lessons in favor of writing about a lesson

where they made a simple and yummy calming draught. Madam Royal

was going to keep that one for the next time her class got unruly.

"Peeee Essssss. Why does En-glish food suck so bad?"

"Gabrielle! That is crude and disrespectful!"

"Sorry, Momma." Properly cowed, she ducked her head and added one

more line. "Peee Esssss Esssss. I am sor – ry for be – ing cruuuude and dis

– re – spect – ful. Fleur said it first. Moth – er should scold Fleur first."

-o\O/o-

Draco Malfoy quietly scanned the Great Hall as students continued to eat

and talk and otherwise go about their business.

Today, no snakes were talking to Daphne Greengrass. Socially isolated in

her own house, the blonde resorted to trading a few bits of gossip with

her associates in Ravenclaw. Draco knew that this cold shoulder

treatment couldn't last forever, not for a girl as well connected as

Greengrass. Still, he could use it to his advantage if he moved quick

enough. She was a remarkably attractive witch from a good pureblood

house and Draco would be more than happy to help her return to social

dominance for the right price.

Across the Hall near the far wall, he spied the three Champions

discussing something or other with Granger. They've been doing that a

lot recently. Draco had to hand it to the Veela; trading a rather common

broom for Potter's Firebolt was a masterstroke.

But enough of that, it was time to continue his father's plan. Draco

braced himself, pulled in all of his Slytherin cunning and became the

Perfect Bastard everyone now 'knew' him to be.

Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco around the Hall to the mudblood and

her Champion friends.

"Cedric, Cedric, Cedric. Really, I can understand why you spend time

with the Veela. Who wouldn't? But Granger?"

The first time Draco heard his father's plan, he was horrified. Father

actually wanted him to hurl the absolute worst insults he could think of

with a Gryffindor-ish disregard for self-preservation. This apparently

must be done in public and with some frequency.

"And vat, may I ask, is problem vith Hermione?" He got the Durmstrang

Champion mad. Merlin's balls, this was going to hurt.

This was one of many problems Draco had with his father's plan. Draco

had to be the most vocal supporter of the dark and of the Dark Lord's

social platform. Being so obvious about it would ensure he become a

Death Eater youth leader when the Dark Lord returns, as his father

assured him would happen soon, and further entrench the Malfoy family

as one of the most powerful pureblood lines in English history. Why did

Draco think this was a problem? Because Draco had to provoke fights

now in order to rule Magical England years later.

"She's worthless. Filth. The Potter gold's been in her control long enough

that it must be tainted." Draco estimated that he would be conscious for

another eight to twelve seconds.

The worst part, Draco knew, was that his father's plan was absolute shit.

Dark Lord's don't let their underlings rule, they do it themselves. The

Malfoy heir was shocked one night to hear his drunken father honestly

describe how often the Dark Lord tortured his own servants. The good

ones, mind you, not the cannon fodder. Draco was certain that his father

had more influence in the Ministry today than he ever would when the

Dark Lord returned.

'A Malfoy bows to no man.' As often as Lord Malfoy said this in his own

home, he was showing himself unable to stand by the maxim.

"Go away! You are not worz 'er time. Begone and take vos voyous wiz

you." Fleur was flustered enough not to worry about extra French words

here and there.

"Come on Cedric. You're a Champion for Merlin's sake. Put these bitches

in their place. The court flower would make a decent mistress and the

mudblood, well... I know someone who claims to run a whorehouse just

off of Knockturn Alley. Granger may still be worth a few sickles a night

due to her age."

Draco would wake up in the Hospital Wing the next morning and write to

his father that the plan was being followed. He would then spend the rest

of his recovery brainstorming safe ways to derail his father's plan.

Following it hurt like you would not believe.

-o\O/o-

"Ahh, Miss Granger. Please sit down." Albus waited for Hermione to take

a seat before seating himself in his chair in the Headmaster's Office. "Care

for a lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Sir." She took a breath before diving into her reason for

requesting a meeting.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Headmaster. I know you're a

busy man."

"Think nothing of it, Dear. As Headmaster of this school, my primary

duty is to see that the needs of the students are being met. That means,

Miss Granger, that I am here for you whenever you need me." Albus took

a lemon drop for himself. "So, Miss Granger, what is it that I can do for

you today?"

"Well, I received this letter from the Minister for Magic's office."

Hermione slid the letter over the Headmaster's desk. "It claims that I will

be required to give Minister Fudge Harry's wand. Is there some way

around it, Sir? I know it sounds childish, but I don't want them to have it,

not after the way Harry's been treated in the past."

For Albus, the issue was far more serious than Hermione made it out to

be. Harry's wand was more than just Harry's wand to those who knew

what it meant to carry the brother wand of a Dark Lord. Albus knew that

the wand would be a powerful weapon against Tom Riddle whenever the

Dark Lord chose to show himself again.

Albus read the parchment twice to properly absorb the message and have

time to think of what to tell Miss Granger.

"You were right to bring this to my attention, Dear." He cleared his

throat. "Yes, well. The Minister has no such power. Technically, no one

does. Unfortunately for you, he has the political pull to take Harry's wand

anyway. He could pressure you in any number of ways to get the wand.

In fact, the Senior Under-Secretary can do a lot in his name without his

knowledge... all of it bad for you."

Albus watched Hermione's face go white at the thought of being targeted

by the Ministry. As much as he wanted to protect her, there would be

little he could do in the long run. Albus mentally asked forgiveness from

Harry and offered Hermione a way out.

"There is an option available to you, Miss Granger. I trust you have not

responded to the letter yet?" She shook her head.

"Well, then. Might I suggest that you make a donation to Hogwarts? You

could give Harry's wand to the school." Hermione looked up sharply at

the statement. Clearly she did not think this option was any better.

"At least you would still be able to see the wand on display, Dear." She

wanted to argue back, but Hermione didn't trust her voice not to crack.

"By entrusting Harry's wand to the school, the Minister would be unable

to seize it. I could, as a representative of the school, repel any moves the

Minister's office makes to punish you for giving me the wand."

Hermione heard the sugar coated blackmail for what it was. 'Give me the

wand and I won't let them hurt you.' Wasn't protecting the students the

job of the Headmaster? Didn't he just say that?

"I... umn... I'd like some time to consider the offer, Headmaster."

Hermione desperately needed to get out. She needed to go outside, to get

as far away from powerful old men as she could get.

Half an hour later, Hermione found herself lying face up next to a smooth

black stone memorial on the far bank of Black Lake. Hermione's feet were

propped up on the rear bristles of Fleur's broom, her hands both held a

wand on a chain as close to her heart as she could get it.

"Harry, please help me. I don't know what to do." Harry didn't respond.

All Hermione got for her trouble was a soft breeze from the lake and the

distant barking of an owl.

An owl... hm. With nothing better to do, Hermione pulled out the letter

she received during breakfast that morning. At the time, Draco was being

too much of a bastard for Hermione to want to see what little Gabrielle

wrote this time.

She cracked open the Delacour seal and looked over the tidy rows of text

that were admittedly better than Hermione thought the eight year old

girl would be capable of. It was only after giggling a second time when

she re-read the Post Scripts that an idea came to her.

-o\O/o-

"Momma! Poppa! Hegwig came back again!" Gabrielle jumped up from her

chair and ran over to the majestic white owl, completely disregarding

proper dinner etiquette along the way.

Hedwig brought a letter and a small parcel with her this time and leaned

in for an affectionate head bump with the excitable Veela girl as she slid

to a stop in front of the owl stand.

"Gabrielle! Manners!" Alain pretended to be angry with her, but it was

difficult to be stern with such an excitable little girl. He liked seeing her

smile like that.

"Sorry, Poppa. May I be excused to relieve Hedwig of her burden?" She used

her very best pout. Though Gabrielle may be too young to use the natural

Veela gifts that develop in puberty, she is still shockingly cute and an

expert pouter.

"Very well, Little Angel. Please tell us who Hedwig has come for." Alain and

Apolline shared a look. Hedwig almost always delivered mail to Gabrielle

from Miss Granger. The elder Delacours were beginning to wonder if the

beautiful bird had chosen to bond with one of the two girls after Mister

Potter's death.

"It is for me, Poppa. And she has a present this time!" Gabrielle returned to

her seat at a respectable speed and began to open the letter. Her father

almost told Gabrielle to wait until dinner was done, but a soft hand came

down on top of his. Apolline didn't want to see her Little Angel's smile

disappear again.

"Oooooo! Hermione says that the English Minister is being mean to her and

wants to take something of Harry's. She doesn't want the mean old Minister to

get Harry's stuff, so she's giving it to me!" Gabrielle looked over to her

mother and father. "Can I have the Harry stuff, Poppa? Will the Minister try

to steal it from me too?"

The two adults shared a brief look before looking back to Gabrielle. "Let's

have a look at it. Harry's Will left everything he had to Hermione, so if it was

really his to begin with, then she's allowed to give it to you. Show me the box,

Little Angel."

As Gabrielle dutifully handed over the box, Hedwig let out a bark of

disapproval. She knew who the parcel belonged to. Alian drew his wand

and cast a series of charms and spells into the parcel. He wasn't as

concerned with the wrapping paper itself; the manor wards would have

stopped the box were the outer wrapping enchanted in a dangerous way.

Still, as much as he wanted to trust Hedwig and Hermione, he knew that

there were people both in England and France who would not think twice

of attacking him through his youngest daughter.

Alain, satisfied that the parcel was not some kind of trap, he handed it

back to his daughter who tore it open with glee.

Both Alain and Apolline were surprised when the little girl gazed almost

reverently at some object they had yet to see. She began to pull a thin

gold chain out of the box. 'Did Harry wear jewelry?' The thought died

quickly as all six eyes in the room locked onto the thin polished shaft of a

Holly and Phoenix feather wand.

Without conscious thought, Gabrielle grabbed the wand by its base and

gave it a gentle swish.

Before either of her parents could scold the child for holding a wand

without permission, a bright golden glow left the wand and began to

swirl around Gabrielle. A cloud of gold and silver sparks, with a few red

ones for variety, shot out of the tip of the wand and bathed the family

dinner with beautiful light and the tinkling of tiny bells.

Clearly Gabrielle would not find a more suitable wand for her future

lessons, no matter how hard she may look.

"I think, Gabrielle, that we will be keeping this gift. Be sure to thank Hermione

properly for sending you something that she must treasure dearly." Apolline

would also be sending a letter to Fleur. The Delacour family would be

looking after Miss Granger from now on.

"Yes, Mother!" A moment later, Gabrielle turned and ran to the Study

intent on writing her reply letter as soon as possible. Hedwig hopped off

of the Dining Room's perch thirty seconds later to follow Gabrielle.

-o\O/o-

With only one week left until the Third Task, the thin veneer of normalcy

that had managed to cover Hogwarts in the last month began to peel

away.

Most of the staff and student's of the three schools maintained a

respectful distance from their Champions as it was very clear that the

three were fully devoted to their training and studies. Triwizard

Champions or not, Victor and Fleur both had N.E.W.T.'s to take after the

tournament.

There was one notable exception.

"Bonjour, Fleur. Here you go; one advanced transfiguration treatise as

promised." Hermione held a book out to the Veela Champion.

"Merci. I swear, one day I will figure out ze 'ogwarts Library." Fleur took

the thick tome from Hermione's outstretched hands and smiled.

Hermione didn't mind picking things out of the Library for Fleur or

Victor. She and Cedric both knew the library well enough to offer their

help to the other Champions. Hermione would have been searching the

library extensively regardless as Senior Under-Secretary Umbridge was

sending her owls almost daily now. Delores had stopped pretending to be

polite early on and was now using threats which were not remotely legal

in execution. Hermione was shocked that the woman would insult her

heritage in one sentence and mention the Dementor's Kiss immediately

after. Sadly, books and scrolls on Wizarding Law were completely

unorganized. Sometimes they were completely unavailable.

"Will Gabrielle be coming back with your parents to watch the Third Task?"

The bushy haired Gryffindor fell in step with Fleur and a handful of other

Beauxbatons students who were making the morning trek from their

carriage outside to the Great Hall.

"She will be! I can't wait for Little Angel to visit again! I still owe her a make-

over, Fleur." The brunette next to Fleur shot out rapid fire.

"Show us mercy, Segolene. The last time you dressed up Gabby, my teeth

began to rot from the sugary sweetness you created." Fleur thanked her

ancestors for the thousandth time that the Veela Thrall cannot influence

other females. Due to jealous witches and their rumors, her social circle

consists only of the more progressive heterosexual witches along with

some of the school's bi and lesbian population.

"Are you saying that the girl can become more cute than she already is?"

Hermione smiled at Fleur. "I don't believe you." In the past few weeks,

Hermione began to spend time with Fleur inside the Beauxbatons

carriage where several Delacour family albums full of wizarding photos

illustrated just how adorable Gabrielle could be. Fleur was especially firm

in her belief that Gabrielle would make her older sister appear plain in

comparison when the little flower finally did start to bloom.

"You shall see the results for yourself. My Mother has already given me

permission to extend an invitation. Would you like to dine with the Delacour

family?" Fleur's question caused Hermione to stop in the middle of the

hall. "Segolene will be there. I am also inviting Cedric and Victor."

"Are you sure? I mean, I'd love to dine with your friends and family. It would

be an honor." Hermione fought down a blush as she thanked God that she

wasn't left completely alone in the magical world. Fleur, Victor and Cedric

had all begun to treat her as a friend and equal even though she was not

a Champion... or seventeen. If you add the quiet talks she's had with

several other Beauxbatons students, she could almost make up with

quantity of friends what Harry gave her in quality. Almost.

-o\O/o-

"Professor, we've got some information for you..." Gabrielle paused for a

moment. "We think it'll help you."

The young girl turned in her sleep. She was dreaming again just as she

had for several nights in a row now. This time, her mother was ready.

"Are you going somewhere?" Apolline watched as her Little Angel

continued to do speak fluent English. The girl's professor had requested

the name of Gabrielle's private English tutor, but what was Apolline

supposed to say? Consult a spirit board?

A dicta-quill was steadily recording everything spoken by anyone in the

room and had been doing so since Gabrielle's bedtime.

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Gabrielle turned to

the other side of her bed. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff

going on here!"

The Veela ran her fingers over her daughter's forehead and through

Gabrielle's silver-blonde locks. As if being both witch and Veela were not

enough, the girl was reliving someone else's life. Apolline began mentally

reviewing what she would write to her mother's family in Marseille.

The dreaming Veela girl threw her right hand high into the air above her

and shouted as loud as she could, "Expelliarmus!"

A blueish-white cloud of magic radiated out from the girl's open palm.

Apart from scaring Apolline half to death, the magical wave washed over

the bedroom furniture without any noticeable effect. Luckily, Gabrielle

did not sleep with her new wand in hand. Apolline insisted on holding

onto the wand whenever Gabrielle was alone. For now, it is a necklace

only.

Apolline quickly pulled herself off of the floor and moved into bed beside

her daughter. She may not understand what is happening to to her Little

Angel, but she will do everything in her power to make sure Gabrielle is

always healthy and happy.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one." Gabrielle

muttered.

While Apolline coiled protectively around her daughter, Gabrielle

prepared to lead Professor Lockheart into the Chamber of Secrets.

Gabrielle would scare her mother several more times that night as the

eight year old girl met Tom Riddle deep beneath the stone floors of

Hogwarts Castle, far, far away from her mother's loving embrace.

-o\O/o-

"Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, thank you again for inviting me to dinner. I'm

honored to be here." Hermione called out, unsure if she should bow,

curtsey or something else. Fleur and Segolene, who both got big hugs and

kisses, were no good as social references.

"Nonsense, Dear! Please come in." Apolline reached over and pulled

Hermione into a hug just as warm as she gave her own daughter.

Continental cheek kisses followed. "And please call me Aunt Apolline. 'Mrs.

Delacour' makes me sound so old!"

The Delacours were renting out a modest two story house in Hogsmeade

for the week so that they could visit with their older daughter both

before and after the Third Task. As a French Ministry Official, Alain

Delacour also had an international floo connection temporarily installed

just in case a 'Second Task' level crisis required official communication or

action.

Within this house, Apolline had directed the Delacour house elves to

prepare a meal for themselves and their guests. The guest list tonight

included Hermione, Cedric, Victor, Segolene and Madam Maxime.

Both Headmasters were at first hesitant to allow their students to go

unescorted. Fleur overcame this by publicly swearing a magical oath to

forfeit the Third Task if either male champion were harmed attending her

family's dinner.

"You may call me what you wish, Miss Granger. I will answer to 'Father'

or 'Uncle' as easily as Monsieur or Alain." The man of the house bowed

down to kiss Hermione's knuckles. As he did this, Apolline explained to

the male Champions that they would not have to speak French tonight

like Hermione did. The nervousness left their smiles.

"Your name is 'Poppa'! Isn't that right, Poppa?" Gabrielle shot into the

room like a silk and lace missile in pastels with silvery-blonde hair. A

familiar wand was clearly visible hanging from Gabrielle's neck.

"Yes, Poppa! Come give your third daughter a hug!" Segolene practically

hopped into the man's lap. Cedric and Victor may not have known what

to make of the playful brunette, but Hermione had learned all about the

girl and her long-standing friendship with the Delacour family.

Dinner went well enough. The Delacours were impressed by the caliber

of students that became Champions. When Hermione tried to humble

herself during a discussion about the three Champions choosing to train

together, Victor would have none of it.

"Do not say such thinks, Hermione. You are smart girl. You are brave girl.

You are pretty girl. I think Harry do vorld great favor ven he save you

from troll." As Hermione dropped her head and blushed, Apolline

considered the troll reference.

Apolline had heard Gabrielle dreaming about a troll once or twice. It

would have been a pity that Gabrielle never seems to remember her

dreams in the morning if not for the fact that a lot of those dreams

seemed to be dark and nightmare-like. If she ever found this 'Uncle

Vernon' man, she was going to go full Veela and ram a fireball up his ass.

"Hermione, Dear. The more I hear about Harry, the more I want to know

about him. I don't trust the papers and my daughters can only tell me so

much. Is there something you can tell me, to help me learn what kind of

boy saved my daughter's life?"

Hermione knew that telling stories about Harry would hurt, but she also

knew from the eight books on grief management she had read recently

that she needed to tell someone. Her dorm mates were out of the

question and Wizarding Britain seemed to know nothing about mental

health treatments or counseling. She could do this.

"Well... the first time that Harry really showed that he had a 'saving

people' thing, we were still First Years and... well... this troll had been let

into the castle on Halloween night..."

No one interrupted her. Friend and family alike listened to a tale that

hadn't been spoken aloud ever. Ron's version didn't count as he

embellished the hell out of it. Cedric may have heard indirectly about the

Philosopher's Stone and the troll, but he never heard about Norbert the

baby dragon... or about the 'expert' traps that three Ickle Firsties

navigated to give the Boy-Who-Lived an audience with Quirinus Quirrell.

Don't forget Voldemort.

By the end of her tale of three First Year students against the world,

everyone else in the room agreed with Victor's assessment. Harry did the

world a favor when he saved this girl from a troll.

But it was getting late and Apolline refused to hear Hermione's apology

for holding up dinner.

Hermione, Cedric and Victor learned more about Veela that night than

had ever been taught at either Hogwarts or Drumstrang in the many

centuries that both schools were open.

For instance, there is no such thing as 'half' or 'quarter' Veela. You either

are Veela or you are not regardless of what the ignorant Wizengamot has

to say on the subject. Veela are not native to the British Isles and with the

British Ministry of Magic's attitude, they never would be.

The difference between most cheerleading and exotic dancing Veela and

the Delacour women was based on the natural talents and abilities of said

Veela's father. A Veela born to a non-magical father would have all of the

natural Veela traits but would share her father's inability to use magical

focii such as wands and brooms. They could at least see the magical

world, much like squibs could. Tonight's hostesses were at the other end

of the Veela spectrum.

Apolline was the daughter of a wizard who also married a wizard. Her

daughters would not only have full Veela abilities at their maturity but

would also have rather impressive magical talent on par with any

pureblood or non-magical born witch anywhere on the continent. Is it

any wonder Fleur became the Beauxbatons Champion?

It was all Alain and Apolline could do to ignore which teenaged wizard

champion was trying hard to not look at which teenaged witch over

dinner and dessert. Alain was restraining himself from his usual duties as

Husband and Father for one good reason; Two different teenaged boys

were showing at least some resistance to Veela charms. That was too

much potential just to kill one or both of them now.

"So... are you 'appy you accepted my muzer's and fazer's invitation to

dine wiz us tonight?"

"Very much so! Thank you for letting me get to know your family, Fleur.

I am so sorry for how the other girls in Hogwarts treat you. Why, if I

were into girls, I'd want you for myself." Hermione gave the Veela a little

wink before breaking out into giggles. Segolene's wink over Hermione's

shoulder was somewhat less innocent, but her laughter was just as light

and bubbly.

"Gabrielle! Where are you? It is bedtime for my Little Angel." Apolline's call

caused a table near the girls to shake. A second later, all three girls

listened as a younger girl scampered quickly away. Whether Gabrielle

was running to or away from her mother, the older two girls had not a

clue.

"I zink you have a big fan, 'ermione. If you can wait just eight or ten

years, zen you can 'ave ze newer model of Miss Delacour. She is

guaranteed to 'ave less wear and fewer wrinkles zen I will 'ave."

"I don't believe the 'less wear and fewer wrinkles' bit. I saw your mother

tonight. By non-magical standards, she doesn't look old enough to be Gabby's

mother, let alone yours."

"And what to you zink of Gabby? She was so proud having 'arry's wand

out in the open. Our parents keep tight control over zat necklace you sent

'er." Fleur was proud of her little sister and hoped that her new friends

would like the short ball of cuteness just as much.

"I love her to death! I've seen fan-girls around Harry before, even if he was

clueless about them. Given a choice between someone like Ginevra Weasely or

Romilda Vane and Gabreille Delacour, then I'll chose little Gabby every time."

Hermione thought that the girl just glowed of happiness and love when

Hermione was around her. Once she had to resist the urge to scan the

room for Harry. She could swear it felt like he was watching her tonight.

"Oh! Did they tell you? About the wand, I mean?" Segolene wanted to see

Hermione's reaction to the wand story.

"No. What about the wand?" Hermione was concerned. Had Gabby hurt

herself? Was sending her the wand a bad idea?

"Ze wand... of course. Did you zink zat 'arry's wand would not react to

Gabrielle when she picks it up out of ze box and gives it a swish or two?"

Fleur tried to stay neutral in her question.

Hermione, as expected, assumed the worst. "Oh, sweet Merlin! Oh, I'm

sorry – I should have sent it to your Mum instead!" Her imagination was

taking up so much mental power that Hermione was reduced to speaking

in English again. All of the things that could have gone wrong...

"Not to worry, 'ermione. Muzer wrote to me zat ze wand reacted most

beautifully to Gabrielle. Zere were more sparks and glowing mist and

tinkly bell sounds zen she 'ad ever 'eard of for any first time reaction

before." Fleur remembered the first time she picked up her own wand.

There was a soft glowing cloud and tinkling bells, but no sparks that she

could remember.

"Sparks, glowing mist and tinkling bells? I only got sparks from my wand and I

know for a fact that that's all that Harry got as well. He said as much."

Tinkling bells?

"But really, ze wand is just ze tip of ze iceberg wiz Gabby. Ze mark, you

saw it, no?"

Hermione had to keep from flinching. The mark was the first thing she

saw. It was also where her eyes seemed to drift when she caught herself

looking for Harry.

It was the same mark that Hermione sees on Gabby during her Harry

Dreams.

She had been ignoring that mark until she recently heard a rumor about

'Potter's Mark' floating through the Beauxbatons students. It had yet to

reach the lips of Hogwarts' students or teachers as far as Hermione could

tell. She prayed that the language divide would remain in place until

after the girls in blue went home to France.

"Yes, I saw it. Is that really... really where..." She couldn't finish the

sentence.

"Where 'e kissed Gabby with 'is last breath and ze last beat of 'is 'eart. She

swears it to be true, and Gabby is not prone to exaggerating zings like

zat." The mark has had Fleur's mind racing day and night since her family

arrived in Hogsmeade. It does not seem dark, but is is clearly unnatural.

"Little Angel is confident that Harry saved her life, not Dumbledore or Madam

Maxime. She says his kiss was a magic kiss. That is why it does not fade."

Segolene leaned to whisper the last two lines.

"Okay! Enough with the sparks and the marks. We have much more important

things to talk about now that we three are alone." Fleur looked over to

Segolene who nodded back. Sticking to French would help add privacy

for this conversation.

"And what would that be?" Hermione had no idea where this was going.

"Silly girl! We will gossip about boys! What else could be more important for

teenaged girls who have already talked about Dark Wizards and Trolls over

lobster bisque."

"B-boys?" Hermione still had no idea where this conversation was going.

"Did you not see a world famous Bulgarian seeker favor you over all others in

a room that had two mature Veela in it? And they say you are a bright

witch..." The brunette was rubbing it in a little much, but Hermione really

needed a clue. In fact, she needed a clue years ago.

Hermione blushed heavily and looked down.

"We are not saying that you should put Harry behind you, Hermione. Far from

it. Victor respects Harry enough that he waits in silence for you to make your

heart available once more."

"Wha- what do you mean?" Hermione was sure they must be teasing her.

Or tormenting her, one or the other.

"Segolene put a listening charm on Cedric as the boys were moving away to

talk quidditch." When Hermione turned to look at the face under the curls,

Segolene tried on her best innocent look. She failed miserably.

"I did! I would have been in Slytherin were I English!" She preened herself

while pretending to be snooty and arrogant.

"No. You are more like those twins in Gryffindor. Fred and George. You

delight in mischief, but do not do it to cause pain or to put yourself above

others." Fleur watched her friend's faux pride become genuine under the

honest praise. Third Delacour sister indeed.

"Enough of that. We were trying to talk about boys!" Segolene pulled herself

together a bit before continuing. "Cedric, or 'Ced' as Victor has begun calling

him, was asking for advice on asking Veela out romantically. Victor, 'Vic' for

short, said that his Veela fans were not 'classy chick' like Fleur here and his

way would not work."

"You mean to say that Cedric is working up the courage to ask Fleur out?"

"I think that we really excited those two boys that first day you helped me with

the Firebolt. Before that, both boys looked at me but rarely flirted. After that,

Victor remembered why he asked you to the Yule Ball and Cedric started

flirting with me more." This was all easy for Fleur to see. She was Veela.

"I... I hadn't noticed..." Hermione began to see it on on reflection. Why

didn't she see it before?

"It's okay, you were and still are recovering. Victor is okay with that too."

Segolene kept up with the conversation, but seemed to be distracted.

Maybe it was an effect of using the listening charm.

"He is? What do you mean?"

"It's what the boys are talking about right now. Ced mentioned that you were

still acting like a widow and Vic just responded that he intends the wait the

traditional twelve months for a widow to grieve for her husband before

courting you openly." Segolene began to spend more time following the

boys conversation. "Okay, now they are getting all pervy comparing the girls

that each of them has already been with. Ced is jealous of Vic's two Veela

conquests but Vic is asking about a... Chinese?... Chang?"

"Cho Chang? He slept with Cho Chang?" Hermione listens to the gossip

mongering of Lav-Lav and Pav-Pav, even if she doesn't add to it. They've

never mentioned a rumor about those two doing more than kissing.

"Not all the way. Just oral. Ced seems quite proud that he could get a girl that

looks Chinese to scream and beg in a Scottish Brogue."

All three girls laughed at the idea as Segolene waited for the boys to say

something equally incriminating.

"Miss Delacour! Miss Royal! Miss Granger! We must be on our way, Dears."

Madam Maxime had come at last to collect her charges.

On the return trip to Hogwarts castle, Headmistress Maxime stayed with

the girls while the boys were usually ten or twenty paces ahead. The girls

abandoned the listening charm they had on the boys for fear that Maxime

may discover it. Instead of spying, Fleur and Segolene spent the walk

back describing Beauxbatons to Hermione.

"...and to just once wake up knowing that I won't have to ask the first ghost I

see where the Defense classroom is this week... I tell you, Hogwarts is looking

worse and worse in comparison." Hermione was seeing more and more

wrong with Hogwarts, and Magical England in general, as the weeks

wore on.

"Maybe you would consider transferring?" Hermione was suddenly very

thankful that Cedric was out of hearing range.

"You think I should? I mean... can you even do that? I know non-magical

students do it all the time, but I've never heard of someone transferring out of

Hogwarts. Not once in Hogwarts: A History is the term 'transfer' even used."

Hermione suddenly became very nervous. She had never considered

transferring before.

Olympe couldn't resist butting in. She had heard Albus bragging about his

favorite Gryffindor witch too often to let an opportunity like this pass by.

"It is precisely because no wizard or witch has ever considered transferring out

of Hogwarts that it would work dear. Make your intent known at the end of

the year when the Board of Governors can't meet in time to write new rules

banning you from getting out." Hermione looked up at the Half-Giantess.

"I'm muggleborn. The governors would be as likely to write new rules forcing

all muggleborns to transfer to Beauxbatons if they could get away with it."

Hermione was saddened at how close to the truth her comment was

likely to be.

"And I would take them in! Well, I assume that they could handle any

differences in course loads between the schools. The muggleborn of England

are far more likely to be accepted than their pureblood counterparts."

"B- but, you would consider me if- if I asked to transfer?" Hermione fought

down the quivering that began to take over her jaw. Battling Dark Lords

was one thing, but this was revising her future educational history. She

only considered it because Hogwarts was fast becoming a reminder of all

things dark and painful to her.

"Miss Granger," Madam Maxime replied with warmth in her voice, "I will

forgive you the sin of being English if you would do me the honor of submitting

an application to transfer to my school. As I doubt the English Ministry of

Magic has such documents as transfer papers, you may have to create them

yourself. I doubt someone as bright and thorough as you would have any

trouble with that."

"Yes Mam. I mean no, Mam, I wouldn't have any trouble. I'll- I'll have to think

about it though. It's a really big decision... and... umn" Hermione was about

to melt down, the very thought of leaving Hogwarts and everything that

had happened there... but at the same time how could she possibly stay?

Every square inch of the castle reminds her of Harry now.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. After the Task tomorrow, you can celebrate

with the Beauxbatons students and work it out." Fleur tried to settle

Hermione's mind, but knew she had fallen short of the task.

"I have an idea to distract you. Want to hear it?" Segolene was wearing a

very Weasley twin smirk. This might actually work. Hermione nodded.

"Imagine that you have a tattoo of a golden snitch right above your labia."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Now... when you go to sleep tonight, your

dreams will be full of Harry and Victor on their brooms trying to beat each

other to the snitch! That's a good one, yes?"

A very red Hermione stuttered out the story about Harry's first quidditch

game and the snitch he caught in his mouth. Segolene and Fleur both

roared in laughter.

-o\O/o-

"Hi, Harry!" Gabrielle appeared without warning in a rowboat in the

middle of Black Lake. The sun was out, the clouds were soft and puffy

looking and a gentle breeze kept her hair from getting in her face. How

nice of her dream to do that with her hair!

She liked Harry Dreams. They were always so nice. If only he would let

her remember one for more than five seconds after she woke up in the

morning.

"Hey, Gabby. Sit, I'll show you what this lake is supposed to be like."

Harry seemed to look over the side of the boat for a moment as he

noticed something that she couldn't see.

"Just give me a minute, Gabby. I've just got to put them in their place

before we can get started."

Gabby sat on the passenger seat of Harry's rowboat as he pulled one oar

out of it's ore lock and began to beat the surface of the lake repeatedly.

"That's right you bloody wankers! She's with me now!" Harry looked back

up to his passenger. "Don't mind them, Gabby. They're here for some dark

goings on, but I put a stop to that, didn't I?"

Gabby giggled. She would never realize that she would have had a nasty

nightmare tonight about being pinned to a dead Harry Potter if this

seemingly alive Harry hadn't caught her in a rowboat first.

Harry reset his oar and began a slow, easy circuit around the lake.

"Oh! You won't guess who I saw today, Harry!" Gabby's face lit up. She

wanted to tell him all about the dinner with her big sister Fleur and

Fleur's very very very close friend Segolene and Hermione.

"I give up... who?" He was smiling. Gabby knew he knew the answer, but

he still played her games. Every day she loved him more for it.

Harry listened intently as the little Veela told him all about her big day

back in England. She was a very big girl and only cried a little bit when

she saw the lake shore through a tree line. Harry told her that he knew

for sure that Hermione still cried when she went down to the lake some

times.

"Harry?" Gabby looked like she was about to ask that question that she

always asked.

"Yes, Gabby?"

"When are you going to go back outside? Can we do it tomorrow?" Harry

liked it when she referred to being in the real world as 'going back

outside'. Here in her dreams, Harry could do anything she believed he

could do except 'go outside' when she woke up.

"Soon, Gabby. Soon. I don't know if tomorrow's the day, but this whole

'being dead' thing is kind of hard to figure out at first." He pulled in his

ores and let the boat drift on an invisible current. "Thanks again for

letting me hop into 'Mione's dreams too. I'm pretty sure I've stopped

almost as many nightmares on her side as I've done in for you."

Gabby smiled. "She said you had a 'saving people' thing. You sure do!"

After a rather heated tickle war, the two calmed down and held hands.

"Ready?" Silver-blonde locks bounced up and down as Gabby let Harry

get ready for the hard part.

Harry took a few deep breaths, and with Gabby's hands in his own he

willed their presences over to his other favorite Sleeping Beauty.

"Harry! Gabby! Come on up!" Gabby let go of Harry's hands and followed

him up a cast iron spiral staircase to where Hermione seemed to be

sorting through some old periodicals. Hermione usually didn't pay much

attention to Gabby, but the eight year old didn't mind so much.

Hermione's library was full of neat stuff. Maybe Hermione would teach

Gabby how to not forget her Harry Dreams one of these days.

"Gabby! Don't go running away on me, we have a new topic to discuss

tonight." Hermione had their attention now.

"Well, you see... I was thinking of transferring..."

End Chapter

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Negative reviews of the Prologue and Chapter One were quite rare;)

Naturally, I will address almost all of those to keep my feedback

balanced. To all you other reviewers, thanks and please keep reading.

Isis the Sphinx – Thank you for registering this story's first review, and a

positive one at that! You and many others commented on this being new.

Perfect. I did not want to travel down a well worn path and luckily that is

very hard to do if you focus on Gabrielle.

deitarion/SSokolow – Thank you for consistently reviewing all of my

stories. Hopefully I will continue to fire on all cylinders from beginning

to end on this one.

Dark Dragen (and those who think like him that Dumbles is an ass) -

Losing the Boy-Who-Lived will really take the wind from the old man's

sails. Let's wait to see if he can redeem himself or if he continues to make

mistakes.

Riegert8 and Sorvik – First, as to why I would change a good thing. If

you truly believe that all seven original books were a good thing, then

why are you reading fanfictions that clearly deviate from the True Path?

You've already read the 'perfect' version of the story, right? Second, you

can kill a character and still like them. It was actually very hard to write

Harry's death and it was almost painful to write Hermione's reaction.

Even more important to HP fanfictions is the fact that a character can die

and still be vitally important. Voldemort was mostly dead from book one

to four. Myrtle was very dead and she was an important character at least

twice that I remember.

Vukk – Your deductive skills amaze me. Please infer sarcasm with that

last remark. While I have an outline, the story evolves even as I write it.

If you want to know the answer to your question, read along with

everyone else.

Weasel Fu – Thank you for an in depth review. I hope to round out every

character I use eventually without overdoing one of them. Next chapter

will give everyone the chance to rate my Third Task action. Yay,

bloodshed!

Starman800 – Hermione's 'Mrs. Potter' moniker is just a nickname. She's

not legally a Potter even thought she inherited the Potter legacy.

Gabrielle is no more Mrs. Potter than 'Mione or Ginny. If Harry married

every little girl he saved, then the original books would have been a

harem story. I am also not leaning on any Veela Bond type plot device

though I do like reading Veela Bond stories. The Delacour ones, not the

Malfoy ones.

Slytherin66 – So, you want to know if the horcrux in Harry is still

active? I know the answer to that one but you won't learn the answer for

quite some time... BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-Hack-cough-cough .

cbsnes – You got me. The date was wrong. My bad.

d-scribe (He-Who-Left-No-Return-Address) – My most favoritest review

to date! You are so full of shit that it's funny. Did you copy/paste this

from your last review somewhere else? The only time you get remotely

specific is when you reference my favorite authors list. There is no proof

you read my story at all. And I would love to see Ozzallos try a Harry/

Gabby story.

para125 (and others asking about pairings) – Harry/Gabby is the only

solid pairing so far, but hopefully I have uncovered several possible love

sub-plots for you this chapter. I am keeping Hermione's final relationship

Top Secret for now, so you'll all have to suffer! Happy New Year!

4. Blood of the Enemy

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Three: Blood of the Enemy

June 24th, 1995

"So... on my whistle, Cedric!" Said Bagman. "Three – two – one –"

He gave a short blast oh his whistle, and Cedric removed his hands away

from Victor's and Fleur's shoulders before walking into the maze. The

maze itself was dark and silent. Whether by magic or by the nature of

such a tall, thick hedge wall, nearly all lights and exterior noises were

blocked from following the young man to his destiny.

Rather than tie up his wand casting Lumos, Cedric began throwing

bluebell flames into the hedge face. God bless Hermione; it was her idea.

Just as he came to the first fork in the maze, Cedric heard Bagman's

whistle blow a second time. Victor was now in the maze with him. Cedric

cast another bluebell flame at the wall splitting his path and stopped

walking.

The first fork in the maze. Their agreed upon meeting place. From here,

the three Champions would move forward together.

Hermione had been so touched when Fleur told her of their plan to honor

the one Missing Champion that she insisted on giving all three

Champions tear stained good luck hugs and kisses. Let the rest of the

crowd make of that what they will, but Hermione couldn't bear the

thought of loosing anyone else, not for some pretty cup and a bit of

money.

Blast-Ended Skrewts, odd mists with odder effects, even a sphinx. Not

once did the three Triwizard Champions split up to seek their own way

through. Cedric, Victor and Fleur would take the cup together or they

would not take it at all.

It was only when the three were mere steps away from the end goal, the

Triwizard Cup itself, that the greatest threat almost caused Fleur to

follow Harry into the afterlife.

To be fair, it was a pretty cup. The rich detailing and elegant curves drew

three pairs of eyes just long enough for an immense spider, perhaps one

of Aragog's clan, to leap into the small clearing around the final prize and

slam the Veela Champion face down into soft grass.

Acting mostly on instinct, both male Champions whipped their wands up

and cast whatever came to mind. Cedric's Reductor Curse bounced off of

the spiders magic resistant carapace but Victor's Bone-Breaking Curse

struck right in between the large spider's many eye sockets. The hit

caused a shower of black gore to spray out of the beast's face as the

spider shrieked in pain.

Fleur regained her footing while Victor and Cedric continued to hurl

their most destructive curses at the monster's body, forcing the wounded

arachnid to scramble back over a hedgerow and out of sight.

"Well, boys. While I like to get my ass pinched sometimes, I zink zat next

time ze one to do it should not be quite so big or 'airy, yes?" Cedric

snorted.

As their hearts collectively began to slow, the three Champions

surrounded the Triwizard Cup. Each raised their left hand above the

trophy, fingers touching in a ring. For a few seconds, the three teens

scanned hedge tops and path openings behind their co-Champions in a

bout of spider induced paranoia.

"Of course... now ve look over backs..." Cedric snorted again at Victor's

special brand of humor and a smile began to work its way up Fleur's

delicate lips.

The Tournament was almost over. She wondered if Harry would

appreciate how much the three of them did together. If the boy was

anything like Hermione portrayed him to be, and she would know better

than anyone, then Harry was likely to congratulate them on this shared

victory. If only he were here today, she would show him how much she

herself has changed... how much the world can change.

They nodded to each other and brought their hands down as one. Three

school Champions felt a tell-tale jerk behind their navels. Howling winds

and swirls of color assaulted the winners, one and all.

A portkey.

-o\O/o-

"Vic? Fleur?" Cedric pulled himself up off of the ground to find both of

his fellow abductees sweeping the nearby grounds with their wands,

looking for any sign of who or what may have been responsible for their

change of scenery. Taking the hint, Cedric palmed his wand and began to

look around.

He immediately noticed that they were in some kind of graveyard. There

were a few trees mixed between the graves at odd intervals. In one

direction was a hill with a dark manor home, not a trace of life inside.

"Dis is not part of Tournament, I think." Cedric nodded immediately.

"Fleur? Try apparate out now, please."

Fleur twisted in place for a moment. Nothing. She looked to Victor and

shook her head.

"I agree. Headmistress Maxime told me zat touching ze cup was ze final

step to victory. Zis portkey, it is trap for us. But, which one were they

'oping to get?" Fleur knew that hidden portkeys had been responsible for

more than one disappearance in her family. With her being Veela and her

father an important politician, the Delacour girls were well trained in

avoiding strange objects. On the other hand, it was well known that she

would be entering the maze last and would have had the smallest chance

of reaching the cup first.

"Somevone is coming." Fleur and Cedric both spun to look at a figure that

had been approaching from between the graves.

The figure, which appeared to be carrying some kind of bundle, had

stopped abruptly. If it was the person responsible, catching all three

Champions must have gone a long way towards upsetting their plans.

Cedric and Victor kept their eyes and wands firmly on the figure three

rows away. Fleur turned slightly and looked by the nearest yew tree. Her

aim followed her eyes.

"Zey are not alone. I zink I can 'ear someone by ze tree." Fleur focused as

much as she could on sounds. She tossed a bluebell flame near the base

of the tree, but no man nor woman stood in relief as far as she could see.

The other figure seemed to hesitate for a second before... mumbling?...

and setting it's burden on the ground. A loud hissing noise filled the air,

causing all three Champions to tense up.

As soon as a green glow began to build on the stranger's wand, both boys

knew what to do.

"Avada-"

"Stupefy!" "Diffindo!"

Victor was quite pleased that his friend had remembered the wisdom he

shared in training of Durmstrang's Dark Arts lessons: the best shield

against the killing curse is to keep the enemy from finishing the

incantation. The two word killing phrase is longer than most good

fighting hexes and the caster will have to still be alive if he is to finish

the second word.

Whatever Fleur was looking for must have taken that hissing noise as a

signal. She finally caught sight of movement much closer than she was

looking for it when a large snake suddenly reared into view and struck

out.

"Infractus!"

Fleur's curse didn't stop her foe, but it did cause the massive snake to fly

off target. Poison soaked fangs grated along Victor's shoulder instead of

the soft skin of her neck as intended.

"...aaaAAAAUGHhhh..." Victor is no stranger to pain, as he is often the

target of internationally known beaters as well as some of the more

aggressive seekers, but the potent venom released onto his skin and into

his blood was a new level of hurt beyond blunt force trauma.

Bright red flared over Cedric's hastily erected shield shortly followed by a

hail of purple sparks from a second spell impact. Fleur stood between the

snake and Victor, a stream of fire spells pouring out of her wand and

forcing the snake to back out of striking range.

"Ve need to get out! Perhaps ve kill man den snake?" Small tremors were

beginning to make Victor unsteady, but he held his wand firm and began

to send more hexes and curses back towards their human opponent.

Fleur was about to respond when a second loud hiss was heard from near

the figure's dropped burden. Fire or not, the snake was likely coming

back.

Fleur's moment looking for the snake cost her as her other opponent

switched strategies and summoned the outfit she was wearing.

As Cedric yelled out in dismay, Fleur sailed over two rows of tombstones

and the snake made a second assault on Victor. It latched onto the

Bulgarian's arm a few inches below the first wound and began squeezing

for all it was worth. Victor's howl of pain broke Cedric of his momentary

indecision. He instinctively chose to deal with the threat that was in arms

reach and began to pump every curse he knew into the thick scaly hide of

the beast crushing Victor's left humerus.

Fleur opened her eyes. Her vision was slightly blurry after that landing

and a small line of fresh blood dripped down from her right temple to her

shoulder.

Her first thought after regaining her senses was that tombstones hurt

more than she thought they would. The French Champion began sliding

her hand through the grass to her right hoping to feel the familiar

wooden shaft of her wand, but it was not to be.

Two wands appeared before her face, one in each hand of their cloaked

attacker, and one of them was hers.

"M- Master... please... l-let me keep this one... o- only for a little while.

Master?"

Fleur heard another voice, but with two wands in pointed at her, she

dare not look away. "We must hurry! You fools have almost cost me

everything! Kill her and subdue the Diggory boy. Nagini can have the

other."

They both thought that she was helpless.

Both were male voices. She was Veela.

Both of them were wrong.

Fleur Delacour released her allure to it's fullest extent. Silvery-blonde

locks which had begun to soil in the fighting were suddenly as spotless

and shiny as polished silver, each strand floating in an invisible wind.

Her skin was pure and soft, forming feminine curves that were more

perfect than any the cloaked man had ever seen.

When he looked into the Veela's eyes next, he was instantly lost in a

crystal blue infinity. She was not human, nor was she mortal. Fleur

Delacour was a Goddess among lesser beings, the very incarnation of

Aphrodite.

"You wish to touch me, yes? To know me intimately?" The words were

sweet and airy. Addictive. The cloaked man nodded dumbly yet his

companion seemed to hiss in anger.

Fleur held on hand out, palm up. Her wand was immediately returned by

the would-be rapist.

"We must make love under the stars by Black Lake. How do I get back to

Hogwarts?" Words flowed from her perfect lips, causing the man to

shudder in pleasure until he heard her last question.

The figure seemed to cringe. Was he trying to fight off her allure? Was

fear overriding magical thrall?

Fleur pushed her nature as far as she could without physically changing.

She didn't want the transformation to shatter her allure.

He seemed to settle down. "How do my friends and I leave?" One does

not refuse their Goddess.

"P- p- p- portkey. I- it goes back just like it came here... " He then began

mumbling phrases over and over, "you're sooo beautiful... ...I'm going to

die... ...dead, I'll be... …an angel, I..."

He was no longer an issue, but she took his wand anyway. Hopefully this

second voice was some sort of communication device and not another

man. To hide from her after such a release of her allure would require

rare power. Men who can resist Veela allure either make the very best of

lovers or the very worst of masters.

Fleur loped back through the headstones to Cedric and Victor to find

them both still alive, but in horrid condition. Blood was on the stones,

the ground, even on both young men, but she did not see the snake. It

was time for her to pull in her allure as not to further harm them.

"Finally ran the damn thing off." Cedric flinched and held his wand hand.

"But the venom, I can feel it."

Fleur looked between both Victor and Cedric. Ced wasn't shaking like

Victor, but he probably would be soon. Victor, on the other hand, was

bad off. There was no sign of the Bulgarian's wand though he seemed to

be unconsciously scraping the ground looking for it. He needed a healer

now.

"Accio Victor's wand." Aside from hearing a loud hiss in the distance, no

wand returned to the Veela.

"Vic jammed it into the damn snake's eye. I think that hurt it more than

any of the curses I threw."

"Zen we need to go now. Zat man may recover soon and I forgot to check

him for ozer wands. We should hold onto each ozer before I summon ze

cup. If we touch it togezer again, we go back." Fleur visually searched the

ground for the trophy cup. With several patches of burning grass littering

the graveyard, she easily caught sight of the light reflecting off of the

cup's crystal facets nearby.

"That simple? Why didn't we try that from the start, anyway?" Cedric

grabbed Victor's shaking hand. Fleur stepped around the two bleeding

boys. As she passed over Victor, her silver-blonde hair fell across his

injuries and soaked up some of the venom tainted blood that was even

now escaping through jagged holes in his arm. Her own blood dripped

onto his body and down to the grass below. She placed a delicate hand

over Cedric's, carefully insuring that she was in contact with both boys,

and summoned the Triwizard Cup.

Soon, all three Champions felt the familiar tug behind their navels and

the world became a swirl of colors and wind.

Maybe this portkey journey would mark the end of their troubles.

-o\O/o-

After near total silence in the graveyard, the cacophony outside of

Hogwarts Castle was just another shock to the system for the returning

students. The co-champions were now the center of attention for

hundreds, if not thousands of people. Cedric and Fleur immediately

added to the noise.

Albus Dumbledore reached the three Champions first, but many of the

officials, staff and spectators began rushing to the obviously injured

teens. Any semblance of order was lost when those nearer to the front

began shouting back to their friends and associates about snakebites and

an abduction of some sort.

"Not dead!?"

"No! But he looks to be near it!"

"Diggory?"

"Krum, but Cedric's hurt too! Even the French bird's bleeding!"

Hermione remained close to Alain and Apolline as the French Champion's

father roughly shoved others out of their way to be at Fleur's side.

Segolene had spent much of the tournament with the Delacours and

Hermione, but was off with several other Beauxbatons students when the

three champions did reappear. Hermione held Gabrielle's hand in hers to

insure that the over-tired little girl would not get lost in the crowd.

Tonight, Hermione was learning far more about how to swear in French

than any of her family vacations or books had revealed in the past.

"-an attack! The cup was a portkey! But who-"

"-must have been after the girl! Heard something about her robes getting

summoned with her in them!"

"Wish I'd thought o' that myself, actually!"

Alian paused for a moment. Hermione could see him glaring hard in the

direction of that last comment. After learning another rather savage bit of

French about what Alain would do to the unidentified man if they ever

met again, he re-focused and started forcing a path through the crowd

again.

Hermione noticed Apolline's demeanor change soon after they both

caught sight of Madam Maxime not too far away. The Delacour mother

began helping her husband clear a path through the thick knot of wizards

and witches they had become a part of. Perhaps she had seen Fleur

through the crowd too? Hermione looked down to Gabrielle after feeling

a bit more of a tug on her hand.

The little Veela was barely hanging on. It was well past her bedtime and

there had been very little to see from the stands, so Little Angel was

nearly asleep on her feet. In her drowsy state, Gabrielle had begun

rubbing the mark on her forehead not unlike Hermione saw Harry doing

countless times in the past. For the hundredth time that night, Hermione

glanced at the slim gold chain around Gabrielle's neck that disappeared

down inside the little witch's robes. She had absolutely refused to come

without Harry's wand. Made her feel safe, she said. Hermione couldn't

help but agree as the polished wooden shaft had the same affect on her

when she wore it.

Maybe she should ask Harry if he really did kiss Gabby there if she sees

him in her dreams tonight. She hoped he would appear as this has been a

very stressful night and would likely get more so.

"Make way! Make way!" Someone very near to them was clearing a path

in the opposite direction. "Injured Champions and healers approaching so

you lot can bloody well move back!"

Hermione got her first look at all three Champions. The crowd shifted to

allow Headmaster Karkarov and a pair of floating beds attended to by

Madam Pomfrey and several other healers angle past her position on

their way to the castle. Hermione briefly noted that Fleur was only a few

meters away now and surrounded by two Headmasters, several ministry

officials and a handful of aurors. Fleur was alternately yelling and being

yelled at by a man in a bowler hat as she carried the Triwizard Cup

under her left arm. If the cup was a portkey then someone must have

already checked to ensure it wouldn't work again. Despite the blood

clearly present on Fleur's head, Hermione's attention snapped to her other

close friends who occupied the floating beds.

Cedric looked like he was beginning to shake, but otherwise seemed alert

and active. Mister Diggory kept pace with his son's bed and glanced over

to his son's bandaged right hand every few seconds or so. It looked like

he was in need of a healer himself... or more likely a stiff drink. Cho

Chang was also at Cedric's side. She latched onto his bed and kept

sobbing in between demands that he not ever do that to her again. Cho

quickly grew tired of matching the bed's pace and hopped on to better

cover his mouth with her own. While Hermione noted that Cedric wasn't

about to refuse Cho's kiss, he was clearly not returning the pretty

Ravenclaw's affections as fully as he could have. The healer nearby

clearly had a problem with Cho's impropriety and threatened to draw her

wand unless the young miss removed herself from Cedric's person.

Girl troubles or no, Cedric was clearly on the road to recovery so

Hermione felt free check the second bed. Oh. Oh, no. He looked...

thankfully not as bad as Harry did four months ago when she snuck into

the tent by Black Lake, but... he looked very bad off. Victor's face was

pale and the skin around the exposed wounds was turning an ugly shade

of purple. He seemed to be sleeping but a spasm would pass through his

muscular frame every few seconds or so. Two healers by his side

maintained constant charmswork over the bed as they passed through the

crowds. The healers were a good sign to Hermione. Their continued

actions meant that Victor must have a chance to recover.

Hermione would never forget seeing Headmaster Dumbledore give up on

Harry in favor of helping Madam Maxime heal a bloody Gabrielle.

Suddenly she was moving again. Alain had taken advantage of the break

in the crowd to pull his women, Hermione included, the few remaining

steps to his eldest daughter.

"Maman!" Fleur dropped the trophy and lept at her mother. The silver-

blonde Veela then began crying hard enough to make Cho look tame. Her

tears were soon joined by her mother's as the woman began to console

her firstborn.

Fleur's trip through hell tonight now includes being accused alternately

of attacking the two male champions herself and/or making up parts of

the story about a supposed 'Master' who was never seen. Cedric was quite

firm in shooting down everything that the rather toad-ish Ministry witch

kept accusing Fleur of. The bitch even had the nerve to call Fleur a half-

breed in front of everyone a minute ago. Madam Maxime was

maintaining her composure, but easily found a way to return every insult

and accusation with a skill that would have impressed Headmaster

Dumbledore had he not been trying his very best to maintain order and

prevent an international incident. There was also the concern of who this

'Master' was that Fleur spoke of. Albus could hazard a guess but there

was nothing useful in their story aside from everything happening in a

graveyard. It should be a small matter to get Mister Diggory's memory of

the event. Miss Delacour's memory would be vital though.

Ludo Bagman picked up the forgotten cup, flicked off a rather plump

looking beetle and began to clean off any dirt that he could find. His

frown was more for the one dilemma he had to put to rest tonight as the

Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. How do you

award one cup to three competitors? It would have been better if they

had just let him declare Fleur the winner as he attempted to do when the

Champions first arrived. She clearly had sole possession of the Triwizard

Cup at the time. As an added bonus, he had a side bet on the bird with

very long odds. That would have been his biggest score in years. Then

the Veela and Cedric spin their tale of abduction and poisonous snakes

and he has three winners in stead of one. Fuck.

"A tie then. No other way to do it with their story." Ludo looked to the

two remaining school heads who both nodded. Karkarov would have

agreed and they knew it. "We'll have the cup rotate between schools or

something... and split the prize money three ways as well."

As Apolline and Fleur continued to moisten each other's shoulders, Alain

stepped forward and began demanding an explanation. Hermione found

herself alternately holding Gabrielle steady, listening to the explanation

Alain was receiving and wondering at the glare sent her way by a rather

ugly witch.

Professor Snape appeared from behind the Headmaster and whispered

something into his ear. It seemed to be a quick message but an important

one as Albus seemed to lose his color and looked down to Snape's arm for

a moment. Snape only nodded in response.

"Please attend to your duties with utmost care, Severus. I shall expect to

see you as soon as possible afterwards." The Potions Master turned

sharply and left in haste. For a moment, Professor Snape clutched at his

left forearm briefly as he moved away. Albus looked around the group of

officials and security personnel. Alastor Moody was still unaccounted for

as he had been since the Champions returned wounded.

When Apolline began to move Fleur away from the officials, Hermione

dutifully followed with Gabby in tow. As they stepped away from those

in charge of the proceedings, Hermione missed the harsh glare being cast

her way by the Ministry bitch. The woman rubbed her thumb over a

medallion hanging from a heavy chain about her neck.

For several minutes, the Delacour women plus Hermione moved out of

the excited and gaping crowd until a suitably quiet spot could be found

at the far end of the stands. Segolene had seen the group leave the

crowds and was now adding her tears to Fleur's damp shoulder.

"Where are we?" Gabrielle appeared to be getting a second wind. The

hard candy pop now forming a bulge in her cheek may have something

to do with it. Gabrielle dropped onto her butt in the grass and began to

scratch an ankle.

"We're behind the stands, Gabby. Your mum and Fleur needed a bit more

peace than they were getting in there." The grass actually looked soft to

Hermione, so she joined Gabby in her new game of plucking individual

grass blades and tearing them in to smaller and smaller pieces.

A cool breeze was beginning to pick up.

While Fleur was calming down on the walk out, she, Segolene and her

mother all began to cry harder again. Hermione dug her hands into her

armpits and shook in the cold. Funny, it wasn't supposed to be so cold

tonight.

Gabrielle stopped tearing grass blades apart when she saw something

approaching in the darkness. Four dark somethings. She drew her knees

up and hugged them with one hand while scratching her forehead. It was

going all ticklish again.

Hermione noticed Segolene and the older Delacour women hold each

other tighter and begin to shake. Something was wrong. Before her sharp

mind could connect the dots, Hermione began to hear Gabrielle wailing,

only she could clearly see Gabrielle wasn't moving her mouth. Then a

memory began to overlap her vision. It was the Second Task all over

again in her mind. Shaking and tearing up, Hermione turned around to

see a line of Dementors come up to the four witches.

"GO AWAY!"

A bright white flash of light shocked Hermione out of her panicky

thoughts of soul death. When she looked behind her, Hermione saw

Gabrielle standing with Harry's wand out and pointed at the Dementors

who sought to feed on them. Hermione turned around again to see what

kind of spell 'allez vous-en' would turn out to be.

It was a patronus. A magnificent fully corporeal being of light was

running, yes running, after the dementors who had all turned to flee.

After tackling one of the soul eating dark creatures and roughing it up

some, the patronus turned back to his charges and returned to his caster.

The threat, however dire, was now over.

When he got close enough, the patronus looked over to Hermione. It was

a boy her age, with glasses. Glasses and a corporeal lighting bolt shaped

scar on his head. Gabrielle had used common French words to summon a

Harry Potter patronus.

Patronus Harry seemed to smile and wave at her before walking through

the three sobbing older witches. He came out the other side a little

dimmer, but also in sharper focus. Fleur, Segolene and Apolline all

quieted down and began to look around. When they also spotted

Patronus Harry, he smiled and walked up to Hermione who was still

quite leaky in the eyes.

Before she could pull it together enough to tell a patronus that she loved

him, he stepped through her as well. Oh, wow. Hermione felt a wave of

warmth, love and happiness flood through her completely removing the

dark taint that the soul eaters had left behind. Hermione turned to see

Patronus Harry kneel down in front of Gabrielle with a big smile on his

face. He was dimmer again but in perfect relief. That's what Harry would

look like if he were a ghost and not a patronus.

"Brilliant work, Gabby! Utterly brilliant!" He talked! "I never knew you

could say something else when casting... Flitwick and McGonagall are

going to be in for a shock when they hear about this."

"Harry!?" He looked back over at Hermione who was now crying entirely

different tears than before.

"Yeah, 'Mione?" He smirked that smirk of his. "Oh! Thanks for sending my

wand to Gabby, here, Love. An excellent move on your part, but then you

are brilliant... always loved that about you."

He used the word. Twice. "I love you, Harry Potter. I love you! I'm

sooooo sorry I n-never got to s-say that w-when you were alive." The girl

fell to her knees and just stared at him with tear tracks glistening down

both cheeks.

"And I love you, Hermione Granger. Why is it that Gryffindor courage

failed me so thoroughly when I should have told you that before? I mean

with all of those things we did togeth-" Harry looked back to in the

direction of the crowds. "Oh, dear. The masses must have figured out that

we were hoarding all of the peril over here."

A large group of people were approaching, a furious Alain Delacour and a

curiously pleased Albus Dumbledore at the head of the group. The

women ignored them completely to focus on the ghost before them.

"You came outside! Yay!" Gabrielle went for a Harry Hug and fell right

through him. Giggling she got up and did it again. "That tickles!"

"That's right Gabby. I'm outside now. I think I can be both out here and in

there pretty much as needed. Maybe. You kind of showed me the door

when you told those blighters to sod off."

"Harry! Language!" She may have gotten a piece of Harry back, but

Hermione was clearly going to have to keep him in line just as she did

before.

"Sorry, 'Mione. Won't happen again." His pout may have been

transparent, but it still softened her up some.

"Love you, Harry!" Gabby was full of energy, nearly dancing in place.

With Harry out and about, this night's schedule had now been shot to

hell.

"Love you too, Little Angel! And thanks again for saving Hermione here

from the Dementors. Really. She's going to have to do something about

those things. Two years in a row... honestly."

"Thank you, Mister Potter. You saved us all, Gabrielle for the second time

now, and I'm still not sure how..." The three older witches had come up

to the spirit. Were he a solid being, he'd be in the middle of a massive

Veela-Bookworm group hug. Clearly Gabrielle had already proven that

such a thing wouldn't work. "What does my Little Angel mean, Harry?

Outside?"

"An excellent question, Madam Delacour. I think a great many people

would like to hear how Mister Potter came to be 'outside' and where he

was before." Headmaster Dumbledore spoke up once he was within a few

paces of Harry and the Delacours. Seems like the plump beetle which had

been flicked off of the Triwizard Cup by Bagman was looking for

sustenance in Albus's beard.

Alain pulled his wife into a tight embrace which their girls quickly

joined. Clearly they would be out of the conversation for some time.

Hermione was left alone to gaze at Harry until Gabrielle ran over to her

and pulled her back to the family hug. Gabby must have adopted her as a

new big sister. Fleur grabbed Segolene and puller her in the same way.

"Sorry to disappoint, but that's going to be between me, 'Mione and the

Delacours." Harry floated over to face the Headmaster who now stood at

the head of a group of wizards and witches several hundred strong.

Shouts of 'Potter's Ghost' and 'Harry's Back' were being thrown further

back into the crowd causing several men to run off to spread the news.

It's seems a sure bet that tomorrows Daily Prophet would be full of big

news. Whether anything that was printed would resemble the truth was

still open to debate.

"Then perhaps you can tell me how Hogwarts came to be your new

home? Or perhaps how you were able to drive off dementors? That is not

a talent ghosts are known to have." As Albus asked his questions, that

angry ugly woman from before stood to the side as her boss came

forward.

"Harry! Good to see you again, boy! Very good to see you again. I can't

say I like the circumstances... terrible night we're having, but it should be

over soon." Minster Fudge almost reached out to shake Harry's hand

before remembering that the lad was a ghost and couldn't do that now.

He settled for adjusting his hat.

"Hello again Minister. I'll have to agree on the night. It can't be good for

Fleur here to come back from an attempted kidnapping and Lord knows

what else only to be assaulted by Dementors. Did you know they were

here, Sir?" Harry peered into Minister Fudge's eyes. Fudge briefly looked

back at his assistant before turning back to Harry. A lot of people were

going to hear about this. He just knew Monsieur Delacour would make a

big scandal of it when he got back to France.

"The Dementors were being held in the local forest in case of an attack

similar to the World Cup over last summer. New defensive plans you

see... never can tell with Black on the loose... perhaps next time these

lovely ladies will seek a more reasonable location to have their witch talk

when odd things are afoot." Hermione found she didn't much care for this

Minister's logic. Wait a tic. If that's Minister Fudge, then that horrid

woman next to him might be-

"Delores, the Dementors are behaving, are they not?" He looked back to

her again. Delores Umbridge shot a quick glare at Hermione before

plastering a smile on her face.

"Yes, Minister." She ran a finger over the heavy medallion dangling from

her bosom. "They are all in the forests just to the north now. Perhaps

they caught a bit of Black's trail from the year before when they

happened on these... ladies... and thought they were onto something.

Surely they weren't in any real danger? The Dementors only Kiss when

we tell them to after all." Hermione really did not like this woman.

Harry looked back at the Veela sandwich Hermione had gotten herself

into and smiled.

"Mister Potter, perhaps we should try this again. How did you drive off

the dementors?" Albus was being insistent. Harry, now knowing a fair

amount about the last few months from dreamscape talks with his girls,

wasn't the obedient boy Albus may remember. Death can do that.

Hearing Hermione point out how often the headmaster would interfere in

Harry's affairs even after his death can do that too.

"Do you mind? I'm having a moment here and it's the most loving sense

of belonging and family I can ever remember witnessing." Hermione

looked up into Harry's eyes, the tears kept flowing, but she wasn't wailing

any longer.

The Headmaster wisely held back on questioning his relationship with

the Dursleys. If Harry answered poorly, reporters would overhear.

"Harry, you have saved my Little Angel again. You have now saved me

and my firstborn as well. Our family will be in your debt for eternity, I

swear it." Apolline was shaking, but had managed to control her voice.

"Tell you what… let me spend time with Gabby and your family

whenever I want and we'll call it even."

"My home is yours and it will never be even. We owe you too much."

Alain finally managed to break free of his family.

"I am afraid, Mister Potter, that ghosts have never been so free roaming

as that. I believe that as you died here, were buried here and became a

ghost here that you will always be here… at Hogwarts." Albus tried to

sound apologetic, but he couldn't have been more pleased with this turn

of events. The Boy Who Lived may have perished, but if his ghost still

calls Hogwarts home, then there may yet be hope for the future. Perhaps

the prophesy is still valid?

Harry almost growled at the Headmasters proclamation. His head swung

around to the two young witches who meant so much to him that he

would punch soul eating demons in the face. Harry's gaze passed briefly

over a worried Hermione and a somewhat less happy Gabby. If he stayed

here, then he wouldn't get to see them grow up. Wait a minute…

"I don't believe you Headmaster." Albus didn't have to fake his surprise.

"Oh? And why not?" Harry figured he knew his own circumstances a bit

better than the Headmaster.

"I died holding Gabrielle. I died kissing her. When I died I gave

everything I was to Gabrielle so that she may live. I came into being in

this form as a sort of ghost-patronus or something to protect her. If

anything I am tied to Gabby assuming I can't just go where ever I please."

"And who, may I ask, cast the patronus?" Albus would have his Charms

Master look into this. Perhaps Filius knew something about the patronus

charm and related spells that could be connected back to Albus's

knowlegde of ghost abilities.

"I did!" Finally! Gabby wanted to say something too, but they were all

just talking over her head. Not now!

"I told the things to go away and Harry jumped out of my wand and

made them go away! He does that, you know... saves little girls from

monsters. Saved Hermione from a troll before he was twelve too! Harry's

great! I bet you didn't save anybody from a troll when you were eleven,

but I beat Harry. Harry, I beat you by saving Hermione before I was nine.

Are you going to go back in time and save her when you were seven or

five? I bet you could." She pulled her Harry wand out and used it to

scratch at an itch in her hair.

"Gabrielle Marion Delacour! A wand is not for scratching your head with!"

Apolline knew well that Gabrielle could get that wand to work and had

no wish to see the girl magic herself to pieces. "That wand is a necklace

only for the rest of the night!"

"Sorry, Momma." Gabrielle pulled her outer robes out from her chest and

dropped the wand back into place before idly scratching her forehead.

The wand necklace suddenly seemed very familiar to some of the adults

and students near the front of the crowd.

"Aren't you a little young to be running about with a wand, Miss?"

Minister Fudge eyed the little girl nervously. As she was obviously one of

Monsieur Delacour's, Fudge knew that the girl was here with diplomatic

credentials. Just as well, the Prophet's likely to do more harm to them

than the Wizengamot could.

"While my daughter clearly needs to learn the difference between a wand

and a comb, I am very pleased with what she has done with that wand

tonight." Her Poppa's words made Gabrielle blush. "Now, If you would

excuse me, my family is in need of rest and I have much work ahead of

me. Our Ministry must know of what has transpired here tonight."

After some more official good nights, Alain finally set his women on the

trail to Hogsmeade. Those who had yet to leave the fields continued to

stare and gawk at Harry Potter, The Boy Who Came Back, but none

seemed to have the courage to approach him yet. He was quite thankful

for this as there were still things he needed to discuss with Monsieur

Delacour.

Albus watched in disappointment as Harry successfully crossed out of

Hogwarts grounds and onto the trail to Hogsmeade. Perhaps the boy was

right about his connection to the little Delacour girl.

"Sir."

"Please call me Alain, Harry."

"Alain. Headmaster Dumbledore is paying entirely too much attention to

Gabby right now, Sir. I think… I think perhaps you should take your girls

back to France as soon as possible. All three of them."

As Alain watched, Segolene began pushing chocolate into Fleur's mouth.

Fleur was just beginning to act normally for the first time since she

prepared to enter the maze hours ago.

"Perhaps, Harry… we should see to all five of our women?" Alain nodded

his head to the side. Harry followed Alain's gaze past the hoards of

shocked and confused spectators to once again see Madam Umbridge

staring daggers into Hermione.

"Bugger… maybe you're right sir, but I don't know if I can get Hermione

out of Hogwarts quick enough."

"It's Alain, Harry, and I think she would die tonight if you asked her to."

As if sensing that Harry and Monsieur Delacour were discussing her,

Hermione looked up at the man and spirit. Harry saw it in her eyes. She

would.

Harry had to try something. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't.

"Dobby!"

-POP-

The excitable house elf looked like he was about to praise the Gods or

suffer a heart attack.

"Oh! It's-"

"Shhhhhhhh!" Dobby froze the second Harry shushed him. The elf

appeared to be waiting for leave to breathe. "Yes. It's me. Dobby, can you

discreetly collect all of Hermione's things? All of her things that she does

not have with her right now?"

Dobby shook his head in the affirmative.

"Can you get her things to the Delacour family elves without letting

anyone know what you're doing?"

Dobby paused for a moment, but nodded to that request as well.

"Please do so, Dobby. I would really appreciate it if you could do this for

me."

Dobby mouthed out 'Dobby will do as the Great Harry Potter Sir asks'

before meekly leaving.

-POP-

"Such an unusual house elf. However did you meet him?" Alain was

shocked that an elf would answer the call of a ghost, but then again he'd

never heard of a ghost calling for an elf's attention before.

"I'd be delighted to tell you all about Dobby tomorrow. Now, Si- Alain...

If you don't mind, I'd like to check up on Cedric and Victor. I think the

girls would feel better if I could tell them how things are going with

those two."

Alain nodded his approval and moved to be closer to his women. "I think

I can protect them well enough in your absence. We'll be floo-ing to

France as soon as we enter the rental home, I promise. We'll leave the

clean-up to the elves and they'll be happier for it." He showed Harry the

wand held firmly in hand.

"Thank you Sir, I won't be long. And I meant what I said about Gabby

earlier... I think you will be seeing quite a lot of me in the future, Sir- er,

Alain."

The older man laughed. "Anytime, Harry. Feel free to spend as much time

as you like with my family... and I want to hear about that elf!"

Harry drifted closer to Hermione.

"'Mione. I'm going up to the Hosptial wing to check up on Cedric and

Victor, okay?" She smiled and nodded her approval. "I'll be back with you

and Gabby soon as I can be. Promise. Now can you promise me that

you'll do what Alain tells you to do for the rest of the night? It's

important."

Little more than four months ago, Hermione would have scoffed at such a

request without explanation. Tonight was different. Harry had come back

for her and he loved her and he asked her to stay with Fleur and Gabby.

"I don't like it when you leave me, Harry." She was sad, yes, but

Hermione had shed her last tear for the night already.

"I never left you, 'Mione. Never happened."

"Can I have a kiss first?"

"Me too! I want a Harry kiss too. I've only had one so far." Gabby was

going to be trouble when they finally got her in a bed tonight... or was it

already morning?

Harry zipped down and gave Gabby a light peck on the head. Same spot.

She bust out giggling.

"Tickles! I want Harry kisses every night." Harry smiled before drifting

over to Hermione.

"Not on the forehead, Harry. Or the cheek. Kiss me proper. Please?"

Harry's smile wasn't quite as bright as for Gabby, but it was a lot warmer.

A ghostly blush crossed over Harry's cheeks.

As he drew closer to Hermione, she tilted her head to one side and let her

eyelids drop just a little. Harry matched her actions before delicately

connecting his being to hers.

Tingly.

"Oh, it just breaks my heart! How beautiful." Segolene teared up at the

rarest and most tender kiss she had ever been witness too. "Romance

novels are written about such things, but they fall short of the truth."

Apparently all of the ladies agreed as even Gabrielle had a look of awe on

her face and the others were leaking at the eyes again.

Harry was going to have to figure out how he knew what Segolene said.

She said it in French, he was sure of that, but for some reason he still

understood every word.

"Take care of my girls, Alain. I'll see you all later!" And with those words,

Harry Potter leapt straight up and seemed to adopt the path of a

broomrider. The speed too if the few faint cries of random witches and

wizards further away were any indication.

No-one noticed a lone beetle take flight. A few minutes later, when a

woman seemed to appear behind some bushes yet well inside Hogwarts

wards, one person did notice. A wizard carrying a camera came out of

hiding and began to discuss his evening with the witch in hushed tones.

-o\O/o-

"You weak fool!" The Master's voice called out from the cloaked man's

wrapped burden.

"I... I beg your forgiveness, Master! She enticed me! Her Veela allure was

too strong... I... what must we do?" The cloaked man was on his knees

groveling before the bundle.

"You will continue as planned. Use my wand if you can't get the boy's to

work for you. If you fail me here, then Nagini will be well fed and I'll be

rid of your failure." The man cringed and removed his cloak to better

prepare things.

"Wormtail. There is plenty of blood on the ground and stones to collect.

Don't take the Veela's blood! There is no telling how that could affect the

potion." Peter Pettigrew nodded. He wouldn't want to run the risk of

becoming a woman or even a mix of both sexes either.

The spineless Gryffindor collected his burden and moved him near a large

stone cauldron.

"Hurry! This body will not support me for much longer." Barely holding

the panic and dread at bay, Peter used Victor Krum's wand to light a fire

under the cauldron. It wasn't a perfect match for him, but the wand

would work for simple tasks.

As soon as sparks began dancing over the surface of the unfinished potion

inside, Peter removed the childlike form of his Master from the cloth

bundle. After flinching from a malevolent glare cast by the snake-faced

child with red eyes, Peter dropped Lord Voldemort's current shell into the

potion.

He raised his wand high.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

Dust came up from a grave nearby. The headstone read 'Tom Riddle'. The

potion hissed and sparked and changed colors as they tend to do. After a

brief inspection of the surface, Peter continued.

Now for the hard part.

"Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your

master."

Peter screamed loud and clear as the blade he carried passed through his

own hand, cutting it clean off of his body. Fear can make you do terrible

things.

With a small splash, the severed hand joined Tom Riddle's remains in

Peter's dark potion. He wailed for just a moment, but only a moment. His

Master needed him to perform the ritual properly and on time.

Peter staggered around to point in the general direction Nagini's battle

with the two young men before continuing. Victor's wand again held

high.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."

Long thin ribbons of blood began to pool together above the ground into

an amorphous blob. The mix was far from pure though no dirt or mud

came with it. Different blood types began to fight against each other and

a small amount of snake venom attacked all blood without bias.

Peter directed his last ingredient into the great stone cauldron and

collapsed. Sparks erupted bright enough to force the injured man to

shield his eyes with a bloody stump. The sparking jet of magical light

extinguished itself in a great cloud of steam.

Something moved.

"Robe me."

End Chapter

Author's Note:

Some of you have already asked why Sirius and the Weasley clan have

been mostly absent from this story. I had planned on dealing with some

of them in this chapter, but the Third Task became it's own independent

chapter very quickly. This means that Harry's dogfather and a cloud of

redheads will show up for sure next time.

It's kind of obvious that Hermione currently worships the ground Harry

floats over. Harry will want her to be happy in the future, right? Expect

Harry to try to get Hermione interested in other boys even if he doesn't

start right away. I refuse to say if his efforts will be in vain.

Reviews or some of them anyway... There are entirely too many to

respond to every one of them, so I'll thank all of you together and pick a

few to respond to in particular.

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Two: Thank you. Really.

How many of you spotted my date/year errors? I had two or three

reviews comment on one apiece before I realized it was a standard error

for me to make pretty much every time. I blame the fact that I am also

writing another HP fic that runs in year six and it's screwing with my

perception of time. I think I've got it now.

I'll say again that the only relationship that's etched in stone is Harry/

Gabby. What I do promise is that the relationships will develop as proper

relationships without sudden changes or backstabby bitchiness. By the

mid-point or perhaps the ¾ point, it should be clearer where our

characters' hearts lie or even if some may still be unattached until the

Epilogue.

The Franco-phile England bashing. Think of it as me picking away at all

of the dark flaws in Rowling's British Ministry of Magic. There are a lot of

them! I'm not going to make France into Super-France, but they do look

better in comparison. Robo-France could be cool in another story, but not

this one.

Dumbles is a powerful man, but my take on that is that his positions are

due in large part to his defeat of Grindelwald back before he decided that

the Greater Good was his personal project. Back room political dealings

took him the rest of the way to his current status. Maybe. That's my story

and I'm sticking to it.

I think I'm going to set up Joan of Arc as France's most revered witch.

The French would surely put her and Nicholas Flamel ahead of that

damned Englishman Merlin, right? Hermione won't be completely free of

prejudice, but it will be more civil. The French remember this thing... you

may have heard of it... the Hundred Years' War? No, Hitler wasn't

involved in that one.

Alorkin – People don't always review in length and detail enough to

have their review considered a chapter on their own. That was

impressive. I'm quite happy to read over your review and find that I

agree with the vast majority of your comments. I may not follow you or

agree on a point or two, but that's small potatoes. Thanks a bunch.

DukeBrymin (and the DragonBard for similar content) – I've used

Ginny very sparingly and will continue to keep her in the background for

the most part. I don't mean to dump on her, but even in the original

books it took Ginny years to be anything more than the biggest fangirl

ever. If I get the chance, I'll round her out some more.

PerfesserN – I don't know French outside of specific internet research. It

would really suck if I tried to use too much of ze language. Ze accent is

not 'ard to write, no? And ze italics are like magic for making we

uncultured brutes understand ze Delacour ladies.

wordhammer – I can't say I agree with you completely, but I do see

where you're coming from. I hope to steer you to my way of thinking by

the end even if you don't know what my way of thinking is yet.

fledge – Like you said, there are almost half a million HP fanfics on this

one sight alone. It boggles the mind. How can anything be new and fresh

now? Amazingly, it can be. I blame my ability to find a unique plot on

the story my Mom sometimes tells about how Dad dropped me once as a

baby. Yes, there was head bounce. Stop laughing already. You see? My

brain – it be werkin differents. Looks like I'll never catch all the slip-ups,

but you should see the crap I screen out before publishing. Some really

embarrassing stuff in that pile.

5. Promises to Keep

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Four: Promises to Keep

June 24th, 1995

As the steam began to thin out, Peter observed his Master moving away

from the cauldron. Even without seeing any of his Master's features, he

could tell from odd jerky movements that his Master was anything but

comfortable. The Gryffindor traitor got to his knees and crawled over to

the cloak pooled on nearby ground.

After grabbing the cloth with his only hand, Peter's struggle to stand

again was painful as well as physically taxing. His right stump was still

bleeding and showed no signs of letting up. If he didn't get some

treatment soon, resurrecting the Dark Lord would be the last conscious

act of his miserable life.

Shaking from blood loss, Peter turned to do his Master's bidding. Peter

almost dropped the cloak again when he saw his Dark Lord clearly. The

steam dispersed enough that Voldemort was exposed.

What a horrific sight he was.

Voldemort warned Peter about the Veela's blood. In truth, his warning

should have been more detailed than just that. Calling for 'blood of the

enemy' in his spell work did a fine job of straining out anything that was

not blood spilled by Champions that night. Unfortunately for the Tom

Riddle and Peter Pettigrew, it did nothing to address the issue of multiple

blood types. Even without the French Champion's blood adding non-

human and female genetics into the mix, the two remaining pureblood

male champions did not share the same blood type. As any non-magical

doctor or nurse can tell you, mixing two blood types before using them in

a patient can be a fatal mistake; different blood types don't get along well

together. Nagini's venom could have killed him as easily as anything else

were it not already a part of his most recent shell. Add these three

different issues together and only the dark magical nature of his previous

and current forms prevented him from returning to mere shadow, an

existence that took Voldemort ten years to escape last time.

Voldemort was bleeding everywhere. Blood seeped from several deep

fissures in the mottled scaly skin covering his body. His musculature also

seemed uneven and malformed. He was neither as tall nor as lean as he

was that Halloween night when his original body was lost to magics that

are still unknown to him. The Dark Lord had a theory about the boy's

mother and blood magics, but it could never be proven now that Potter

was dead. No matter, he was alive and the boy was not. If nothing else,

the he believed that the prophesy must have been fulfilled when Crouch

indirectly caused Potter's death. With the Potter boy out of the picture,

only Dumbledore had luck and power in sufficient quantities to give the

Dark Lord any trouble. If this body was as flawed as it at first seems, he

would merely take another before crushing Dumbledore and his inept

Order. He would rule all in time. He would, but only after making his

current displeasure known.

At Peter's pause, Dark Lord Voldemort rolled his shoulders back and

channeled all of the pain he felt into a glare. Caught in his Master's

furious red gaze, Peter wet himself.

"Can you not even follow one simple command?" Voldemort was never

known for being patient, but Peter could hear it in his Master's words.

Punishment. Hard, cold and painful punishment would be visited upon

him. All he could do was postpone the nightmare by serving as well as he

could... or bleed out before his Lord noticed.

Peter finished covering his Master's form, carefully avoiding the odd bony

protrusions on Voldemort's upper back which looked like scabbed over

wing roots. As soon as he presented his Master's wand, Peter noticed

small wet patches begin to soak through the cloak. More fresh blood.

"Show me your arm." Every syllable was ground out through clenched

teeth.

Peter raised his bleeding stump before the... not a man... the thing that

stood before him.

"Crucio!" Voldemort's cursed Peter. Voldemort himself didn't know if it

was due to Peter's poor choice or simply the need to cause pain in

another being.

The torture curse flew out fast and true, striking Peter full in the chest.

Peter lost himself to the pain for he didn't know how long. He only

regained control of his own body when a foot slammed into his crotch.

"Your other arm, Wormtail. Get up and show me your Mark." Voldemort

began to pace unsteadily back and forth. This was a tiresome game and

the night was far from over.

Peter struggled to get up. It was harder to rise this time even without a

cloak in his good hand. He felt lightheaded but managed to raise his left

arm enough for the Dark Lord's needs. A slick blood covered hand came

forward to hold Peter in position as a yew and phoenix feather cored

wand dug roughly into his exposed mark.

As Peter howled in pain, his Master called two of his servants over the

bond. One, he would call to task for recent failures and the other he

would use to fix this colossal failure.

-o\O/o-

Harry tore through the air between crowds of shocked and confused

Tournament spectators on his way to Hogwarts Castle. Dozens of adults

and students alike tried to hail the ghost as he flew past, but he did not

turn to acknowledge any of them. He promised to get back to Hermione

and Gabrielle as soon as possible and living or dead, Harry did not break

his promises.

Thinking as a seeker, he went over the outer castle wall and into

Hogwarts' main courtyard. He dove right for the closest pair of entry

doors to the castle proper and came to a halt upon finding them closed.

To the left of these closed doors he spotted a rather amused looking

Ravenclaw House ghost and her companion, a younger Ravenclaw witch

with dirty blonde hair.

"Excuse me ladies, but I'm in a bit of a hurry and need to get inside.

Could you perhaps open the door for me?" Harry rocked back and forth

as if on a broom in non-existent wind.

The witch simply tilted her head to the side and stared back.

"I am sorry young man, but as I am also a ghost, like yourself, I cannot

open this door." The Grey Lady replied with a smirk clearly showing.

Harry wasn't willing to play her games. "I'll just find an open window or

something then. Sorry to have disturbed you ladies."

As he flew up and across the castle face looking for an open window into

one of the hallways, the young witch turned to her ageless companion.

"Nargles?"

"No dear. Mister Potter is clearly unused to being a ghost. Why, it took

me four hours to remember I could pass through closed doors and

another week to simply go through walls and ceilings instead of using

hallways and staircases."

"Oh, well that's not so bad then." The witch lost track of Harry and turned

her gaze back to her house's ghost.

"Highly amusing, but not so bad at all, dear." The two returned to their

private discussion now that it was private once again.

Up in a fourth floor corridor, the ghost of Harry Potter finally managed to

gain access through a conveniently open window. Due to the Third Task

and the late hour, his high speed rush down three corridors and two

stairwells went without incident. The old oak doors of Hogwart's Hospital

Wing were in sight in under a minute. In the back of his mind, Harry

regretted never trying to fly through the castle on his Firebolt like that

before he died. It was brilliant.

Luckily for Harry's mental state, the doors were still open.

His entrance into the main ward went unnoticed as all eyes were on the

wounded Bulgarian or on Madam Pomfrey and her associates from St.

Mungo's. Harry lifted himself up to get a seeker's eye view of the wand

waving and potioning around Victor.

"Potter?! Am I dreaming?" Cedric was the first to catch something in his

peripheral vision as he was observing from two beds away.

While three professionals of the healing arts ignored their less critical

patient's call, one other observer was in the room. She looked over to

Cedric and then followed his gaze to a point almost directly above her.

"Auch! I must be dreaming too! Me cub's come back!" Minerva

McGonagall was nervous enough at the very real risk of losing a second

young man to this year's Tournament that seeing the ghostly Golden Boy

of Gryffindor floating above her shook her to the core.

"I'm glad to see you as well Professor McGonagall..." Poppy almost

stopped what she was doing at his voice. Almost. "...but I told Hermione

and Fleur that I would find out how the boys are doing. We Champions

stick together, you know."

"That we do, Harry! Why don't you come over here before Poppy figures

out how to kick us all out for disturbing her work?" Cedric began to sit

up, but Minerva stepped over and pushed him back down onto his bed

with a firm hand. "Cho followed us in and got the boot right quick with

her tears and moaning."

The Deputy Headmistress cast a muffling charm between the frantic team

of healers and their new group of three.

"So, Cedric. How are you and Victor doing?" Harry tried to ignore the fact

that neither of them had seen him alive or otherwise in months.

"Don't you 'how are you and Victor doing' us young man! Have mercy on

my old heart, Mister Potter, and tell us how you came to be haunting us."

Minerva was close to tears. Check that, she was crying now.

"A story for a story... deal." But what to say? Harry wouldn't really mind

these two knowing a bit more of the truth than others, but he really

didn't want the Headmaster to get the full story out of them. If he had to

admit it to himself... then yes, Harry was being more than a little spiteful.

Headmaster Dumbledore was still lucky in a way. If Harry really was tied

to Hogwarts forever, then he would never have given the old bastard a

moments rest. Harry had secretly seen plenty of horror movies when he

was supposed to be locked in Uncle Vernon's cupboard and he had taken

Hollywood's idea of ghostly haunting to heart.

"Why don't we start with everyone's favorite French family plus dear

Hermione having a bit of a cry behind the stands after you two were

carted off... not Alain though, he was busy yelling at Dumbledore."

"She's okay then?" Harry looked over to Cedric. "Fleur, I mean. She was

bleeding and I never did find out why."

Harry stayed silent. Cedric began to suspect why.

"Alright. You caught me. I fancy Fleur. Quite a lot actually. I'm going to

break up with Cho before the end of the year. She's nice and all but she's

got a bit of a jealous streak. You wouldn't believe the things Cho says

about Fleur when she doesn't think I'll overhear." Cedric was red faced by

the end of his admission.

"Good on you, mate. I can't say for sure whether Fleur returns those

feelings or not, but you won't know until you ask. Back to the Delacour

women plus 'Mione. Well… Minister Fudge must have thought that with

all of those vulnerable students and parents gathering to watch

hedgerows shake for an hour or two that he needed some dementors

around to keep things lively."

"He didn't!" Minerva didn't want those damned things on Hogwarts

grounds last year when she knew they would be out and about, but to

have some around and not tell anyone?

"Well it may not have been his idea. Did you know that Senior Under-

Secretary Delores Umbridge has been making threats on Hermione's life?"

At this pronouncement, Cedric started to sit up again and Minerva had to

hold a hand over her mouth. It wouldn't stay closed on its own. "Our dear

Headmaster only promised to protect her if… big if… she gave my wand

to him instead of to the Ministry. That's what the threats were about –

my wand."

"But I haven't seen her wearing it lately. Did she hand it over?" Cedric

hadn't ever thought to ask why Hermione stopped wearing her favorite

necklace. Didn't think it was his place to ask.

"She handed it over alright. To Gabrielle. It was Gabby using my wand…

well I guess that makes it her wand now… but it was Gabby what

summoned a patronus to chase all the baddies away."

"Little Gabby cast a patronus? She's what, eight years old?" If Cedric was

shocked, Minerva was speechless.

"A Harry Potter patronus at that! Me! I shot out of the wand and chased

off those demonic wankers. Do you have any idea what it's like to get

shot out of a wand? Has that ever happened to anyone other than me?

Anyone at all?" Harry looked between them. Confusion and disbelief

were now replacing shock as the dominant expressions.

"You're a talking patronus? You look like a ghost to me…" Well, when

you put it that way…

"Well, it was like I was wearing the patronus spell or something. I was

wrapped up in warmth and love and it was completely brilliant. Pretty

sure I'm a ghost though. I can't really describe it better than that, Ced.

Maybe you can get Professor Flitwick or our dear Professor McGonagall

here to take a stab at it." Harry noticed movement at the edge of his

vision and turned to the door.

Students, many of them Gryffindors, were pushing to get a look at him.

As the doors themselves were still open, Harry figured that Madam

Pomfrey must have brought up a ward at the door or something. Wasn't

it past curfew yet?

"So that's my story, Cedric. Let's hear it then." Harry still had young

women to report to.

On the other side of Madam Pomfrey's door wards, a group of redheads

fought along with everyone else who came to see the Boy-Who-Came-

Back.

"Bloody hell, it really is him. Harry! Oi!" Ron jumped in place a couple of

times trying to get his onetime best mate's attention, but the apparition

continued to speak to Cedric and Professor McGonagall.

"Give it up, Ron. If we can't get in, then they probably can't hear you

either." Ginny may not have had strength enough to muscle through the

crowd, but she found it easy to follow Ron, Fred and George to the front .

"Hey! He see's us. Harry!" Ron just yelled louder.

For his part, Harry held out his left arm, pointed to his wrist and then

held up all five digits on his right hand.

"What's that supposed to mean, then?" Ron really didn't know.

Another student called out in annoyance, "Do purebloods not wear

wristwatches? He's signaling us that he'll be done in five minutes."

All Ron could do was wait. If he was lucky, Harry would be too loud or

something and get ejected from the room first.

"…and so they get the poison out of my veins pretty quickly. Might take a

few days for the hand to really heal up as the venom was some nasty

stuff, but otherwise I'll be fine. I'm still the lucky one. Vic got more of the

venom in him. A lot more venom." The wizard, witch and ghost all

turned to the badly wounded young man only two beds away.

All three healers were still working frantically, faces sweating and

wrinkled in concentration. Victor seized up unexpectedly causing the

healers to start calling out to each other. Due to the muffling charm,

none of the three could hear what Madam Pomfrey was saying, but it

must be serious. House elves began rapidly popping in and out of the

room transferring a wide assortment of potions, towels and other things.

It looked bad.

"Wait a tic. I… I have to do something." Cedric and Minerva both looked

back to Harry. "I think… I think I'll go have a little chat with Vic now…

only take a moment, I promise."

Before either of the two living magicals could react, Harry Potter

disappeared.

-o\O/o-

"Where am I?" Victor Krum was confused. Only a moment ago, the

Bulgarian was in intense pain. The last thing he remembered clearly was

ramming his wand into that damn snake's eye. After that was darkness

and pain.

Until now.

He felt no pain. The sky was crystal clear, he'd swear it was a warm

spring morning if it weren't for the fact that there was no sun in the sky.

No shadows under him, either. Victor found himself leaning back into a

seat somewhere in the stands of a truly magnificent quidditch pitch. The

whole place was spotless. The only thing he saw out of place was a lone

broom resting in the middle of the field and… was that a brief flash of

gold off to the side?

"Victor!" Victor snapped his head around to see Harry Potter hovering a

few feet away, hands and feet firmly gripping a Firebolt.

"Harry Potter? I am dead?" Victor mentally berated himself for not

figuring it out sooner.

"I wouldn't say dead. Maybe almost dead."

"You understand Bulgarian?" Victor didn't expect that.

"Not really. It's something about meeting you here. To be quite honest,

Vic, I'm not sure why I got tapped for this job. It's instinct; I can tell you

what your options are now even though nobody bothered to tell me what

they were before I got here. If it weren't for the fact that I like you and

you've been very good to Hermione and Fleur, then I'd be writing out a

letter of complaint or something." Harry delivered this all with a straight

face. Victor laughed. Harry joined him in laughter soon after.

"So, Harry, what are my options?" Vic began eyeing the broom below. It

looked just like his.

"Well, you see… there's this snitch running around up there and you and

I are going to chase it. This thing we're doing will end as soon as one of

us get's the snitch."

"But what does catching it mean?" Victor wanted to know if he should lose

on purpose.

"I can't say. But Vic, are you honestly going to tell me that the one time

you and I get to do battle over a pitch, you're going to let me win?" Harry

wore a wicked smirk by the end of his challenge.

Victor put on his game face.

"Potter, I will crush you."

"Prove it, Krum."

Their battle was fierce. The snitch was never out of sight and the two

seekers never let up. Harry pulled out all the stops and Victor delivered

World Cup level aggression and skill. Each seeker had made it to within

inches of the golden snitch over and over again only to be rammed off

course or shaken by the snitch itself.

While an epic seeker duel played out somewhere between life and death,

Victor Krum's heart stopped.

"I got it! I win!" Victor was ecstatic at his victory. Harry came around the

victorious Bulgarian and clapped loudly in applause.

"Shall I tell the girls? Cedric? This game was special, you know." Harry

slipped further away, but Victor didn't notice. He had the snitch.

"I want to tell them. I'll do it myself." Victor squeezed hard, almost crushing

the delicate looking golden ball.

There was no bright light, but there was darkness and pain. He'd been

there before.

-o\O/o-

Professor McGonagall dropped the muffling charm.

"We're losing him! He's seizing up!" Poppy was a whirlwind of motion as

were her two fellow healers, but they seemed to be fighting a losing

battle.

"Heart stopped!" The wizard of the group ground out. He quickly leveled

his wand directly over the organ in question and charmed a small

lightning bolt to pass through the patient's chest. The badly wounded

body contorted as electricity worked up and down various muscle groups.

"Bloody… gone. The patient is lost to us." The wizard stopped his work

and looked at his companions.

Two spells later, the witch from 's seemed to accept her peer's decree and

ceased her work.

Poppy was frantic. She'd never lost a patient in these halls before and

damned if she was going to fail now. The lightning spell.

Again.

Again.

She only stopped her work when her wand hand began to shake

uncontrollably.

Before she could bring up the courage to announce her first personal

failure ever, a familiar form appeared directly above Victor's body.

"Come on, Vic. Show me what you're made of." Harry was looking down

with a grin.

Minerva almost bit his head off for the insult until Victor Krum moved on

his own.

"I von de match, Harry. Qvit vining like little bitch." The Bulgarian

Triwizard Champion rolled onto his side and went to sleep.

When five pairs of eyes in the room all bored into Harry, he held an

index finger to his lips and went, "Shhhhhhhhhhhh. He's had a rough

night."

As his business was done here, Harry Potter passed through the door

ward, sliding from total silence to the dull roar of overexcited, under-

supervised students. Maybe as soon as the Deputy Headmistress could be

pulled out of her faint…

There was a group of redheads right below him. Harry mentally cursed.

As much as he wanted to run to Gabby and Hermione right now, he

might not get a chance to talk to this lot again for a long while.

Harry darted down quickly before saying something in Ginny's ear and

darting away at broom racing speed.

"He said he'd make a quick stop in the Common Room!" Ginny yelled out

her comment when people began to demand Harry's whereabouts.

As soon as the crowd began to thin out, Ginny moved. The twins looked

at each other and smirked.

"Oi, Gin-Gin. You're going the wrong way."

"Oh no, she's not, Ronnikins…" Fred began.

"…she just lied is all." George finished.

Three minutes later, four Weasleys entered a girl's loo on the second

floor.

"… and so snicker and so when ol' Albus says 'who, may I ask, cast the

patronus' she raises her hand like she was in class or something and yells

out 'I did!'" Harry laughed.

Myrtle fell to the floor laughing. Then she kept falling. A few seconds

later, she popped back up through the floor.

"Harry, you prat! When were you going to tell us you were a ghost?" At

Ron's query, all laughter stopped.

Harry looked at Myrtle, who only shrugged and looked over to their

guests.

"Now that's a fine hello, isn't it? It took me four months to figure out how

to do this and that's how you greet your ex-best mate?" Harry didn't look

happy. He didn't look surprised either.

"Don't pay him any attention, Harry…" George started, to which his

brother finished with-

"… a teaspoon, remember. Usually it's a green one, too."

"Okay! Okay! I get it! I'm a shallow, jealous berk!" Ron took a deep

breath.

"Don't forget immature."

"Thanks, Ginny. You're a big help." Ron almost took another deep breath,

but thought that the twins might say something next. "I'm immature.

When I think of what you wrote in your will, well, you were spot on. I

was shallow and jealous for all of thirty minutes when Hermione went to

Gringotts without me. Then I figured it out. I figured it out even before

seeing your cut on fair-weather friends in the Prophet."

"You were a good mate, Ron. Better than most."

"Better than most… except for one, right?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, I don't

blame you mate. 'Mione always was a better mate to you than I was, girl

parts and all. I wanted you to be just like me. She wanted you to better

yourself. I… I can't help but think that if we weren't best mates… well…

maybe you'd still be around. Alive."

"Ron, those mermen were going to spear Gabby no matter what I did, and

believe it or not, all three of the other Champions have said that they

would have died the same way I did for the same reasons. Seventh Year

of age Champions, mate. I grabbed Gabby, therefore I had to die. That's

all there was to it. Not. Your. Fault." Harry may have revoked Ron's 'best

mate' privileges when he signed the will, but he had been willing to

sweep it under the rug between the First and Second Tasks. Ron wasn't

perfect, but he wasn't bad either.

"Still feels that way mate."

"I have regrets too. They may say that the only two constants in life are

death and taxes, but as far as I can tell the only constant in death is

regret. Want an example? Something to think about before you meet

your own end however many years down the road it is?" Ron wasn't the

only redhead who nodded. Myrtle nodded, not because she wanted to

hear Harry's example, but because she knew exactly what he meant.

"Ginny, you're a girl. You tell me, knowing me and 'Mione… when do you

think was the first time we ever admitted to loving each other out loud?

When was our first kiss?"

Ginny lost focus for a moment. After a sharp intake of breath, she looked

back at Harry, "Was tonight your first night as a ghost?" He nodded. You

could almost see the pain wash over her body. "It was tonight, wasn't it?

You never got to kiss her when you were alive, did you?"

His silent confirmation was all that was necessary. She started tearing up.

"Oh… oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. You never got to… to…"

"Not one kiss. As I was too young to remember my parents before they

died, I do not remember a single person ever saying that they loved me.

Hermione did love me but she didn't say it and I never got a kiss from

her, not before I died."

As three boys dug deep in order not to cry like their sister, a soft voice

interrupted.

"I can one up you there Harry, not that I'm proud of the fact." Myrtle

drifted closer to the living in the room. "Moaning Myrtle. That's me

alright. I cry more than any other ghost you've ever heard of, don't I?

Why am I such a hosepipe? I died like you, Harry. A virgin. Never got to

kiss or be kissed. You know that at least one girl loves you and you know

your parents did too. Me? I was a social outcast before I died. With my

blood status and my dorky glasses, no boy would touch me. I remember

Mum and Dad… they did love me at least. But boys? Never. Your right

about regrets Harry, every ghost has them."

"I can't promise to be around much, Myrtle, but when I'm near, I will say

hi." Harry smiled at Myrtle. She could be a true friend. Harry and Myrtle

were of the same rare breed.

"Thanks Harry. I can wait. I'm rather good at that now."

"Hold on... what do you mean you won't be around much? You may not

be a student here, but Hermione still is. You want to stick around for her

don't you?" Ron was confused. Didn't Harry just admit to loving

Hermione? She's got years to go before she's out of Hogwarts.

"Well, I would hang around more if she were staying, but as she's

probably already in France, then it won't be much of an issue." If that

didn't cause a Weasley to explode then nothing could.

"Wh-what the bloody hell do you mean 'already in France'?" Ron was

going red again. Harry had to wonder what the flush was from this time.

"I mean that a wicked hag in the Minister's office has been making death

threats to Hermione and our beloved Headmaster has been doing shite to

stop it. He wanted something Hermione had. Something of mine." Harry

paused. "Granted, Umbridge wanted the same thing. No-one felt like

respecting my will if they could get around it, apparently. Thank God for

the goblins."

"So that's it then. You leaving us tonight?" Just Fred. Must be the somber

mood.

"Can't avoid it, mate. Hermione needs me. Gabrielle too. Must really be

past Little Angel's bed time..."

"Take care H-Harry." Ginny was getting all weepy.

"Now you stop that, Ginny. I can't hug you like you make me want to

when I see you tearing up." Harry absolutely hated having to leave a girl

like this.

"Just pass through her Harry. It's not the same, but it's as close as you're

going to get."

"Thank you, Myrtle. From now on you're my unofficial big sister. Walk

me to the front gates?" Myrtle blushed and nodded. She could go that far,

but hadn't done so in a very long time. "Anyone else coming?"

"I-I c-can't." Ginny couldn't move. As Weasley's stick together, her

brothers chose to stay by her side.

Harry passed slowly through the sobbing witch, then turned around and

kissed her on the forehead. The ghostly affection only made the girl cry

harder.

"Well, I don't know when I'll be back, but one day I will be. Count on it."

With that, Harry and Myrtle left the bathroom. Through the closed door.

-o\O/o-

Albus was hard at work in his office, as always when his fireplace flared

green. Moments later, Severus Snape exited the flames, cleaning the soot

off with a quick flick of his wand.

"Ah, Severus. It is good to see you in good health considering the poor

company you must now keep." Albus set down a quill and briefly took in

his Potions Master's appearance. "What news have you of Tom's

resurrection?"

"He is a fearsome sight, not quite the man he was before but then he was

already changing by the time the brat got lucky." Severus would never,

could never show respect to a Potter. "Without the boy, how do you plan

on defeating him? Or is it time to knock Trelawney around a bit until

another prophecy shakes loose?"

"Ahhh, Severus. Who says we are without Mister Potter?" Albus took a sip

of tea as he watched Severus try not to flinch at such a proclamation.

"What do you mean by that, Headmaster? He's dead!" One cannot be

beholden to a corpse.

"He appeared as a ghost tonight on Hogwarts grounds when Ministry

dementors approached the Delacour ladies and Miss Granger, not long

after you left." Albus continued to stare at his spy in the enemy camp.

"Is it too much to hope that one of the damn things actually got Granger

this time?" Snape went too far and he knew it. Albus would expect him to

think that question but not voice it.

"That wasn't nice, Severus. Do you really want anyone to experience that

most horrible of ends? Soul death, Severus. Voldemort's most painful

means of execution is still a blessing as compared to that." Albus set

down his teacup. "But that is beside the point. How did things go?"

"It was a full meeting of the Inner Circle, the free ones anyway. He is

wasting no time in assembling his forces. Don't expect them to announce

themselves though. He will no doubt use a delicate touch, Slytherin to

the core. Don't be surprised if the 'notorious' Sirius Black becomes a silent

terror in the night." Severus almost smiled at that.

Albus was quite disturbed. With the Ministry under Fudge's leadership,

Lucius Malfoy might as well be the sitting Minister. Imperius victim or

not, he was far too dark to hold the reins of power. Was it asking too

much for Tom to have made some mistake in the ritual?

"Did nothing go wrong for Tom, tonight?"

"Not unless you think Pettigrew nearly dieing to complete his Master's

ritual is a setback. The fool was unprepared to deal with all three

Champions and would have been stopped outright were it not for Nagini's

assistance." Severus held back an insult or two aimed at the rat animagus.

Why insult him from afar when you can ram dark potions down his

abused throat at your leisure? "I will, of course, be required to brew

many special orders for the Dark Lord for the foreseeable future,

sometimes at a moment's notice."

"Of course, Severus. I will not prevent you from fulfilling your tasks... all

I ask is a list of what is brewed and when. And an accounting of our

potion ingredient stores as usual." Albus pulled out fresh parchment and

began writing a notice to the Board of Governors. Alastor Moody was no

longer in Hogwarts. Even his things were missing.

"I'll see myself out, Headmaster. It's been a long night." As the Head of

Slytherin House turned to exit, the Headmaster nodded and continued his

notice.

-o\O/o-

"Harry!" Gabby leapt off of her bed rousing Hermione from her half-sleep

as she did so.

"Gabby! Why aren't you asleep yet? It's so late at night that it must be

morning already." Harry found a padded bench near the largest window

in Gabrielle's bedroom.

As Gabby scrambled over to the same bench, Hermione sat up from her

place on Gabby's bed and looked around. It took her a few seconds to

properly restart her brain.

"Harry? What time is it?"

"Very, very late. Or I should say very early. You both should be sleeping

right now."

"Couldn't sleep without you, Harry. The mermen might get me." Whether it

was true or not, she believed they could get her.

"I'm terribly sorry Gabby, this would have been the first night I wasn't

already in your dreams first. I forgot." Harry reached a hand out to run it

through the girl's fine hair. He couldn't actually play with the hair itself,

but his fingers did cause a bit of a tingle in her scalp. She began to giggle,

but ended up yawning instead. "Go to bed Little Angel. I'll be with you

shortly."

Now that Gabby had her Harry, she was finally willing to surrender

herself to sleep. By the time she was under covers with head on pillow,

her breathing was already starting to deepen.

"It's not fair, Harry. Why can't I snog you senseless? Why did you have to

die?" Hermione was fighting sleep to be with the boy she loves.

"I'm a tragic hero, 'Mione. We're not allowed to have happy endings."

Harry began to float over the bed. Whether Hermione was asleep or not,

it would be time to say hi to Gabby soon.

"I don't believe in fairy tales, Harry. You are what you make of yourself."

Her eyes were only half open.

"You don't believe in fairy tales? You are a witch, aren't you? Are you

sure that there isn't a jolly old wizard living way up north who owns

hundreds of house elves and casts charms on every child to know when

they've been bad or good? He could be Lord Claus of the Ancient and

Noble House of Claus or something." By the end of his response, Harry

was whispering to her. Her eyes were almost closed.

"Saint Nicholas, Harry… he was… Bishop of… Turkey…" And she was

out.

"Sweet dreams, Love." Harry smiled. Of course they would be. He'd be in

them to make sure of it.

-o\O/o-

"'Mione? 'Miiiiii-o-neeeeee. Where did she go, Gabby?" Harry and Gabby

were walking hand in hand between two rows of reference books in

Hermione's library.

All he got in answer was giggling. That was his only answer until they

reached the end of the row anyway. With Harry looking at Gabby's

electric smile rather than where he was going, his attacker completely

blindsided him.

"Hermmmiohhhhmmm!" It was all Harry could get out while pinned

against the shelves with Hermione's mouth covering his.

"Cooties! Harry's got cooties!" Gabby giggled and squeaked at the kissy-

face she was given a front row seat to. "Har-ry and 'Mio-ne sit-in' in a

tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Why didn't I think of this before!? I love you, Harry! Love you, love you,

love you!" Hermione had come up for air. Before her was a stunned and

deliriously happy Harry. It wasn't enough to just say she loved him…

Hermione wanted to show Harry, wanted him to feel it. Gabby sat in a

nearby chair and watched.

Several lines were left uncrossed. Snogging was enough for now and

Gabby didn't need an object lesson in human reproduction. She may be

Veela, but she's a little Veela even by the standards of her race.

-o\O/o-

June 25th, 1995

While several young women slept the morning away in a maison-forte

between Marseille and the French Alps, shock waves were just beginning

to hit the homes of ordinary witches and wizards who were not witness

to the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament on Hogwarts grounds last

night.

In London, in a dark and dank townhouse, the kitchen fireplace roared to

life with green flames. Remus Lupin stepped out of the fire holding a new

copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm.

"Sirius? Sirius!" Aside from a depressingly long row of open or empty

liquor bottles, there was no sign of life. "Not today, Padfoot. You'll need

your wits about you for once."

Remus banished some of the mess in the room as an afterthought as he

moved to the staircase. The house was quiet. Even more than it used to

be.

Sirius Black didn't handle his godson's death well at all.

The portrait of Walburga Black had been burned to ash even as it

screamed bloody murder from the wall. They never could undo

Kreacher's sticking charm, even after the little bastard signed his own

death warrant by celebrating Harry's death and gloating about it. The

house elf's head was removed from his neck seconds later.

The odious elf always dreamed of being beheaded, true, but he never

would have wanted his remains tossed into a rubbish bin and sent to the

nearest muggle waste disposal facility. Sirius's only regret was that he

couldn't think of an even more muggle-ish end for the little shit.

After a short climb up the central stairs, Remus came to the proper

landing and passed through the Master Suite's doors.

The stench. It was horrible.

More liquor bottles lined the floor, desk and the bedside tables. There

were stains on the floor and bedding from where Padfoot's drinking had

gone too far and made him sick. In the midst of it all was a ragged, bone

thin grim sleeping off his last dose of oblivion.

Remus got to work. One cleaning charm after another. Banish. Polish.

Refresh. Scour. Again and again. Sirius would need a bath along with

whatever hangover cure could be found in the kitchen.

"Wake up, Padfoot! Big news today. You won't want to sleep through this

one." The dog whined lightly but didn't stir. "Don't you want to hear the

news about Harry?"

Growling, the dog moved both paws over its head. Remus shook his head

slightly and moved next to the bed. There was no way around it… Sirius

would be waking up the hard way. Remus pulled the newspaper out from

under his arm and rolled it tightly in his hand.

WHAP

The dog shook violently after catching a newspaper across the head. In

short seconds, a ragged man lying in filthy robes replaced the dog. He

was holding his head with both hands, mouth open in a silent scream.

"That'll teach you to drink your sorrows away! I told you to try

relocating, but no! You couldn't be bothered to go any further than the

cellar where your parents kept all the good stuff." Remus cast a handful

of cleaning charms at his fellow Marauder. He would still need a shower

and new clothes, but he wasn't death incarnate anymore.

"You sick bastard! What's wrong with you today? If I ever get rid of this

sodding headache, you'll be in serious trouble. Watch your back, I mean

it." Sirius had yet to open his eyes or peel his hands away from his

forehead.

"Read the headlines, Padfoot. Triwizard ended last night and you will not

believe what happened."

"That's it? Fucking Triwizard? You thought I'd want to hear about that? If

Kreacher were still around, I'd have him throw your arse out." Sirius was

experimenting with opening his eyes one at a time.

"Look at the paper, Sirius. It's Harry! Or more specifically, Harry's ghost."

Remus carefully placed the paper in front of his friend so that the

headlines and front picture were clearly visible.

HARRY POTTER the BOY WHO CAME BACK

Under this attention grabbing headline was a wizarding photo. In that

photo, something miraculous was happening over and over again. A dead

transparent Harry Potter kept kissing a live opaque Hermione Granger as

little Gabrielle Delacour reacts with wonder in the background. Never in

the history of the wizarding world has such an image ever been captured

before. Almost as shocking was the next headline down.

POTTER TELLS LOVE TO LEAVE ENGLAND

If the violent triple-tie-with-triple-abduction end to the Triwizard

Tournament weren't enough to dominate the news; if seeing proof of

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger locked in a tragic romance didn't

peak someone's interest; then their continued story of abuse of power,

dementors and midnight international floo trips was bound to boil your

cauldron. Let's not forget the Boy-Who-Came-Back saving not only the

Girl-Who-Lived again but her mother and Beauxbatons Champion sister as

well. Rita Skeeter struck the motherload last night.

By the time Remus returned from the kitchen with a hangover potion and

a plate of eggs, Sirius had read all of the pertinent articles.

"You're right, Moony. It's time to relocate." Sirius slammed back the

hangover potion as Remus set down the eggs.

"To France?"

"Oui." Hangover potion or not, the eggs tasted vile. How long were they

in the cooler, anyway?

"Albus will not be happy."

"To Hell with him, then."

-o\O/o-

"Lavender? Parvati?" The two girls knew who was behind them, but they

expected the Hufflepuff Champion to continue on down their table to

speak to a Weasely or maybe a Seventh Year witch or three.

"Yes, Cedric?" Lavender fought down a blush. Injured Champions were

hot.

"Do you know how late Hermione's going to be? I'd like to talk to her

about last night." As the two girls looked at each other in 'realization',

Cedric looked over to the Beauxbatons contingent sitting at the end of the

Ravenclaw table. Fleur wasn't with her friends. Actually, he didn't see

that brunette... Segolene... either.

"Is that why she never came back to the dorms last night? She was... she

was with you?" Parvati tried to sound innocent in her query, but every

nearby Gryffindor heard the accusation clearly.

"With me? No! I was in the Hospital Wing all night. I didn't see Hermione

since before entering the maze." Cedric's brow creased. "What do you

mean 'she never came back to the dorms last night'?"

"A good question, Mister Diggory." The Gryffindor Head of House was

standing behind him carefully scanning her lions for any sign that one of

them might know something.

Parvati piped up again. "Professor McGonagall. I don't know where

Hermione went, but you should know, wherever it is, she took her things

with her... all of them." Parvati hadn't really paid attention to the bare

bed and missing student trunk during her morning routine, but then she

wasn't totally awake yet at the time.

"Miss Weasley. Do you know where Miss Granger is this morning?"

Ginny was a mess. Her pony-tail wasn't orderly, there were rings under

her eyes and her expression was one of misery. The witch in question

looked over to Ron who, while not looking any worse for wear, did look

as if he knew something.

"Miss Weasely, I kneed to know if Miss Granger is in need of assistance.

Where is she?" Minerva had a bad feeling about the Weaselys being so

hesitant. That is a trait they are not known for in the least.

"I expect she's being well taken care of Professor, but you won't be

finding her today." Ginny knew she couldn't avoid these questions but she

just couldn't volunteer the information.

"And why won't we be finding Miss Granger today, Miss Weasley?" Albus

Dumbledore joined the Gryffindor Third Year's interrogation.

"B-because, Sir. She was targeted by the dementors last night. Harry

wouldn't let her stay here anylonger. He sent her to France." There were

several gasps and the rumor mill started cranking up to speed.

Cedric connected another dot in the picture that none of the others had

put voice to yet.

"Is that why Fleur and Segolene aren't with the other Beauxbatons

students? Did they leave together?"

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment of reflection. Oh dear,

what a mess it had all become. The Headmaster remembered watching

Miss Granger walk with the Delacours to Hogsmeade, but thought little

would come of it. How wrong he was to focus on Harry and the little

Delacour witch.

Albus was also wrong to think it was nineteen eighty-one all over again.

It was more like nineteen seventy-five. In the mid seventies, Voldemort's

forces were well organized whereas Dumbledore's were not. Albus did

not now have a Boy-Who-Lived tucked away where the Wizarding World

could not touch him. He also did not have access to Voldemort's brother

wand.

What did he have? Only questions without answers. This time, Albus

promised to himself, he would have a backup plan ready in the event that

whatever seemed to be his best hope failed again.

Before any more questions could be asked, the morning mail came

swooping in on wing and talon.

"Sweet Merlin! Look at that!" Headmaster Dumbledore was about to call

on the student who yelled out so abruptly when the entire Great Hall

erupted with noise. Knowing that there could be no other reason for so

many of his students to generate an uproar so quickly, he looked over a

Third Year's shoulder to scan today's Daily Prophet.

The first headline was rather predictable to anyone who went down to

the Third Task last night. But the accompanying photo and second

headline... oh, my.

"Miss Weasely. Mister Weasely. You will accompany me and your Head of

House to my office immediately. Bring your copy of the Prophet with

you." Headmaster Dumbledore looked over to Minerva, who appeared

rather flustered. "Professor McGonagall, please ask Professor Flitwick to

maintain order in the Great Hall whilst we deal with more pressing

issues."

-o\O/o-

Breakfast smelled wonderful to Fleur. That could only mean one thing.

France.

"Good morning, Mother. I hope you are well this morning." The elder sister of

the Delacour family slid gracefully into a seat at the family breakfast

table.

"Me? You who fought off... I don't want to know what you fought off last

night. To say nothing of those foul demons that Gabrielle and Harry took care

of for us." Apolline set her fork down. "How are you, Princess?"

"Yes, my Princess, how do you fair on this lovely summer morning?" Segolene

hugged Fleur from behind and bussed her cheek. Fleur flushed scarlet

before picking out some fruit from a serving tray.

"Will you two please let that nick-name fade away? Gabby is so much more of

a Princess than I ever was." Apolline raised a delicate eyebrow as Segoline

snorted from the next chair over.

"Why Fleur, dear. Where do you think she got it from?" Segolene snickered

at the motherly tone Apolline was taking. "You taught her too well. She

makes none of your early mistakes. If she is not the little angel we take her for

than it is because you taught her how to hide evidence of her misdeeds."

Fleur avoided eye contact with her mother. Apolline sighed.

"Well, your early tutelage combined with whatever she learns from dear Harry

shall make us either terribly proud or terribly afraid of whatever she does with

herself in the future."

As the lady of the house reached for a pitcher of milk, two owls flew

through an open window. One carried a letter with Alain's office seal

while the other carried a pair of newspapers. Apolline pushed the papers,

one copy each of Le Mystique and the Daily Prophet, to the girls and took

the letter for herself.

"Sweet Jeanne!" Segolene was the first to unroll this morning's Daily

Prophet. "I don't know whether to laugh or to cry."

Apolline was too far into her husband's letter to look away but Fleur

managed to pull her attention away from a picture of herself on the cover

of Le Mystique. The French magical paper proudly displayed Fleur

holding onto her injured fellow Champions with one hand while holding

the Triwizard Cup in the other. Clearly the photo was taken immediately

after they returned to Hogwarts grounds. As soon as Fleur looked over to

the Prophet's cover, she was sure that both papers would have to be read

cover to cover.

"Get cleaned up, girls. We'll be heading into your father's office as soon as

we're ready. Little Angel and Hermione need to be ready as well." Neither girl

bothered to point out that Segolene wasn't a Delacour as Alain has been

her unofficial father for years.

Calls of 'yes, Mother' and 'yes, Auntie' the two teenaged witches each

grabbed something from the table to eat while harassing their younger

charges. Two steps away from the table, Fleur turned around and moved

to fill a plate with pastries for the late sleepers. Segolene held onto her

Prophet. She couldn't wait to see Hermione's reaction.

Two floors higher in the centuries old Delacour family seat, two girls

continued to sleep comfortably despite the bright light filtering through

centuries old leaded windows. Some of that light also filtered through

Harry Potter.

The boy who died and came back was as close to being at peace as he's

ever been since before his parents died. Why? Simple, really. He loved

two girls; two girls that loved him back in equal measure.

Harry at first wanted to say that it was a different kind of love for each

girl but was it? How could he tell?

Hermione was in his life since they were both First Years. He must have

loved her since she was petrified in Second Year… or was it as early as

the troll? Still he didn't know what it was he felt back then. Friendships

seemed so much more important than the L-word before he learned that

he was to face a dragon in the First Task. As much as he loved her, not

once had he consciously made any romantic overtures towards his bushy-

haired bookworm. Damn it to Hell.

He never loved Cho. Now that Harry looked back with perspective

unique to the dead, he could see the crush for what it was. Cho was

pretty... beautiful even, but he had nothing more than hormones

directing him in her direction. Harry's life would have been so much

simpler if he had just crushed on Hermione instead. His life would have

been just as short, regardless. There was no way he was not bringing

Gabrielle up from the lake bed.

Gabrielle. What a sweet, innocent, fun, talented little girl. She was living

the childhood he never got to have for himself. He loved her so much. Is

that love really so different than his love for Hermione? Forget

hormones… forget snogging… forget, just for a moment, that he's dead.

Both of those girls were sleeping in the same bed, right in front of him,

right now. If he were alive today, could he forsake one for the other?

No. No, he couldn't. It would kill him to even try. Praise be to whatever

god was listening that both girls were now under the same roof. It made

watching them so much easier.

Harry would have sighed in contentment were he alive. Instead, he gazed

happily at his girls without moving, just as he had been doing for over an

hour.

Myrtle was right. Being a ghost can do wonders for your patience.

-click-

"Good morning, Fleur. Segolene." Harry rose to greet his visitors.

"Good morning, Harry." The two smiled and responded in stereo.

"Wish I could smell what's on that plate. It looks wonderful." Harry was

too busy last night to miss eating or smelling or just about anything. He

smirked to himself. Once the girls were asleep and dreaming, Hermione

did her best to make him forget he was dead.

Apparently the smells and sounds of morning could to do what the sun

itself could not. Hermione began to stir.

"Ooooohhhh Harrrrry. Why couldn't we have done that before you died?"

Hermione began to stretch and twist under the covers allowing one

smooth leg to escape and draw Harry's eye.

If he had been paying attention, we would have seen the smiles worn by

Fleur and Segolene get much bigger.

"And just what was it, 'ermione, zat 'e did to you while you were

sleeping?" Hermione sat up and opened her eyes. How was she going to-

"They played kissy-face in Hermione's library! Harry's got girl germs now."

Gabrielle didn't open her eyes. She did curl tighter around Hermione in

an effort to get more comfortable.

"Her 'library'? Is that what they call it in England? How did you two figure out

how to touch each other? Am I going to have to ask what your intentions are

for Hermione, Mister Potter?" Fleur realized near the end that listening to

Gabby caused her to sip back into French for a moment. She also realized

by way of their guilty reactions that Gabby was right. How did Gabby

know? Fleur and her mother would have to corner Gabrielle some time

soon and ask a few questions.

"It was just snogging! Honest. Gabby was our minder the whole time.

Look, given the chance, I'd love to be 'Mione's boyfriend but," He looked

down at himself, "I missed the boat on that one, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't mind, Harry. Don't know what I'll tell Mum and Dad but… oh,

Lord. Mum and Dad! I just ran off to France without them!" Hermione

lost her dreamy smile.

"Don't worry, honey. Poppa Delacour will fix it. He's never let one of his girls

down before." Segolene meant every word to Hermione. Alain has done as

much for her in the past. More to the point, she meant to say it in French

as a test. Harry hasn't asked anyone to repeat themselves yet this

morning and he wasn't known for speaking the language.

Once again, the transparent boy didn't so much as bat an eyelash.

"Little Angel, Hermione. Apolline has asked that we get ready for a trip into

the Ministry today. I suspect we will be spending the next several hours

answering very boring questions about our very terrifying night."

Fleur set the breakfast tray down on a level section of bedding. "Eat up

you two. I'll run a bath."

"And no bath for you, Harry Potter! You stay with us for the time being!"

Segolene's jab left both Hermione and Harry blushing furiously and

Gabby giggling about cooties. "By the way, lovebirds, I have something

you'll want to see…"

With that, Segolene carefully unrolled her copy of the Daily Prophet and

held it out for Harry and Hermione.

Hermione began choking on a bit of pastry she had unfortunately chosen

to swallow just then. Harry instinctively went to slap her back, only to

have his arm pass straight through back, breasts and everything in

between.

"Oh! -cough- You don't un -cough- understand what this means! My

parents!" Hermione held a hand over her mouth as she tried to regain

control.

"What about your parents? We'll have to get in touch with them but

Segolene already said Alain would help." Harry idly noted that Gabby

was still coiled around Hermione and pretending not to be awake.

"Too late! As soon as I told my parents that the Prophet sometimes

mentioned me, they insisted that I send home those editions that do

mention me. After they saw the article about your will they had me get a

subscription. They've already got a copy of this paper, Harry! They

know!" She had that deer-in-headlights look in her eyes, the same look

she gets when she just knows she failed a test even though she really got

an O+.

"It'll be alright, 'Mione. I swear it!" Harry began to scramble for ideas to

stop Hermione from joining him early just to hide from her parents.

"Look, you and Gabby take your baths… and me and the girls here will

go talk to Apolline. Okay?"

Hermione nodded. With a few pokes to a ticklish midsection, Gabby gave

up her sleeping act and showed Hermione where the nearest bath was.

They could deal with Hermione's parents later. It was past time to get

ready for a new day.

End Chapter

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Three: Thank you again. You are all a

big help and your positive influence definitely helps keep the creative

fires stoked.

deitarion/SSokolow – I try to put real thought into every line. Luckily, I

keep getting inspiration beyond the original story outline (more than five

densely packed hand written pages) such that my story continues to

evolve and improve. This does not mean I have forgotten or discarded

key elements from my prologue; in fact the tie-back from climax to

prologue is getting deeper. Almost like I meant it to be that way;)

Runic Patronus – For anyone who wants Harry's current form and his

grand entrance explained, here you go: He is a ghost. While I don't

remember the original books talking about ghosts being able to visit

someone in their sleep, my wife and I both have direct experiences to

support this standard belief that they can (so long as you believe in

ghosts in the first place like we do 'cause we've seen them. Really). If it's

so common that we 'muggles' know about it, than Harry or any other

ghost in the story ought to be able to do it should they want or need to.

Add to this the idea that Harry has a very strong link to Gabrielle and it's

not hard to believe he can observe her in the waking world. She has also

assimilated some of his knowledge and abilities even if it is

unconsciously. At this point in the explanation, we 1) set Gabby down in

front of dementors and 2) get her instinctively blasting out with the

proper magic and 3) Harry sees Gabby opening the floodgates as it were.

4) He comes 'Outside' wearing the patronus like clothes or armor and

proceeds to go ape-shit on the dark creatures. 5) The patronus layer

bleeds off leaving ghost Harry out in the open ready to congratulate

Gabby on a job well done. And there you have it.

Rfuu – That was a very odd thought. Have you ever considered writing

fanfictions yourself? We need odd thinkers. Think of Luna. She needs

you, lest she fall prey to normality.

Alorkin – You done it again. How long did it take you to write that

anyway? As to Voldie's concerns, I do believe I covered that in the story

above, but to refrain: he was actually not paranoid enough. I expect that

most blood rituals would be more careful about how they get their blood

than this ambush scenario and therefore the magicals may not really

know all of the ways blood can go bad on you.

SomeGuyFawkes – Thanks for bringing up the apparation plot hole. To

be fair, Cedric could have apparated out to get help in the original, but

he didn't try whether it was from loyalty to Harry or a brain fart. Either

way, I got it covered now.

LoireLoa – Merlin was a Scot, then. Does anyone know if the French hate

the Scots and the Irish as much as they hate Brits? Does being Welsh

make a difference? Or is it anyone who's English that gets the hate?

Fen Dweller – So I got a flame after all... Funny, this flame is really for

The Girl Who Loved, and yet you chose to post on my more popular story

on the most recent chapter. Funnier still, if you really had such an issue

with my multi-cross story (which last I checked was rated M for 'you

could get just about anything') then I wonder why you read so far into it.

Did your parents teach you how to play music backwards looking for

Satanic messages? You claim I am using outrageous language and subject

matter and yet it is you who heavily load your review with the word

'rape' far more than any other document I have ever read. May I suggest

you take a sensitivity training class? My wife happens to be my pre-

reader and I certainly got no such concerns from her. You even go ALL

CAPS once or twice. You, sir/mam, are a hypocrite. You accuse me of

certain actions and call me out by openly using the same actions to your

own purpose. As is usual for flames of this type, you leave no return e-

mail address, so I must laugh at you with the belief that you may never

know that my reaction was laughter. Excuse my while I go sacrifice this

chicken to Cthulhu...

6. Prophets and Mystics

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Five: Prophets and Mystics

June 25th, 1995

Gabrielle sneezed.

Zoé the house elf was instantly on hand to add more fluffy towels to the

pile around her little mistress.

"Merci."

"Your hair shines like liquid silver when it's wet, Gabby. I'm so jealous."

Hermione spoke up while working out some tangles in her own hair.

Gabrielle just smiled. Her hair never tangled, but she knew that it would

be wrong to say that. Momma has been teaching her how to say 'yes, I

am a pretty Veela' without making other girls angry. Momma says it will

be a very important skill one day.

"Fleur and Segolene say I have princess hair. I like having princess hair. It

makes pretending to be a princess easy." Gabrielle saw Hermione smile

despite having a bit of trouble with a bad tangle. "Can I untangle your

hair? Fleur untangles Segolene's hair and then they splash around a lot. I

know how, promise."

Gabrielle watched her new big sister think for a moment before nodding

and turning to the side. She got to work. As little fingers began an assault

on the wet brown mass flowing over Hermione's shoulder the older witch

watched Gabby's eyebrows crease and the end of her tongue slide into

view. This was Gabby's 'I'm concentrating' face. In much less time than

Hermione expected it to take, Gabby cleared the knot and both girls had

straight sheets of wet, clean hair. Well, not quite as wet as before. Zoé

was seeing to that.

"Thank you Gabrielle. You did a wonderful job." Hermione saw the beaming

eight year old and tried to show a smile of her own, but just couldn't do

it. "I wish I could be so happy."

"Why are you sad, 'Mione?" Gabrielle was confused. They were home.

Poppa and Harry would keep them safe. Why was she sad?

"I'm sorry, Gabby. It's just… my parents… and Harry's back, but he's a

ghost… and then there are people in England that want to hurt me. They tried

to hurt us last night." Hermione was beginning to tear up. Dementors were

far worse than she would let on to Gabby. She didn't want to spoil

Gabby's happy thoughts. "But you saved us, didn't you Gabby? We are all

very proud of you."

"Harry and Poppa are good at saving girls. The best. You are safe with Poppa

and Harry, 'Mione. And Poppa will fix it with your momma and poppa too.

He will." Gabrielle moved to sit in the larger girl's lap and gave Hermione

a big hug. Hermione hugged Gabby back. "Not so tight! I have to go to the

toilet."

-o\O/o-

Beep beep beep… ….beeep beep… …beep beep beeeep beep... …beep

beeep beep beeep.

Gabrielle watched Hermione hold the handset of a public phone to her

ear and wait. Any minute now, Alain would come down from his office

with a Ministry escort to bring everyone in to testify before the

International Affairs and Law Enforcement Department heads.

Her Momma had brought all of them to a large, multi-story atrium on the

ground floor of a rather busy government building near the Arc de

Triomphe in Paris. This atrium was a mixed magical/non-magical entry

point to various French Ministry of Magic departments. The space itself

seemed an even mix of current and historical French architectural styles.

Centuries old rose marble columns were separated by stainless steel

balconies with brass trimmed glass guardrails and barriers. Centered in

this rather artistic space was a spectacular sign with meter high letters

focused on the words 'Le Ministère de la Magie vous accueille.' Hermione

and Harry were both rather surprised by the welcome sign as it seemed

to constantly demonstrate every form of magic one could imagine. Meter

tall letters changed materials and fonts continuously. Magical lights,

plants, animals and elements appeared, shifted and vanished in a

beautifully choreographed dance. Hermione was doubly surprised to see

non-magical equipment like computers and the phone she was now using

liberally spread throughout the obviously magical room.

The explanation? Just because the British never put much time into

magically shielding technology doesn't mean the rest of the world gave

up with the idea. You could walk into a magical home in Norway, Mexico

or Egypt and never once think a wizard lived there. To be fair, there were

other countries behind the curve like England, but the number was

dwindling every year.

"Come on, Mum... pick up the phone." Gabby may have used a phone

once or twice, but she's never picked one up and dialed a number like

Hermione was doing. She remembered hearing in school that sometimes

you have to say your name if you call far away. Something about the

other person promising to pay for it…

"Mum? Mum, calm down! Please, calm- I can't tell you if you don't- I'm

safe now. In France. Yes. M-mostly true, Mum. Ahhhhh, well. That did

happen. That's right, Mum. Er, yeah. We were."

Fleur and Segolene both discretely cast listening charms on the phone

Hermione had in hand. If Hermione or her parents were going to be in

trouble, they wanted to hear about it soon enough to help out. Harry

drifted close enough to listen in on Hermione's side of the conversation.

"Yes, Mum. Yes, Harry saved me. No, it wasn't the first time Harry saved

me. No Mum, it wasn't the first time he saved my soul from being eaten

by demons. Almost the same thing happened last year. Yes Mum, we

were on school grounds or in the castle every time. Yesssss… it was the

first time he was dead when he saved me. Yes, Mum. Yes, I love him. Yes,

Mum, I promise not to die just to be with him; I don't think it works that

way. Cross my heart, Mum. Really." Hermione paused as her mother

seemed to get distracted for a moment.

"Mum? Wait! Turn on your speakerphone before you answer the door,

please. It's probably someone from Hogwarts as I ran from school before

the end of term; they might pressure you into telling me to come back

and I want to listen in. Alright, Mum." Hermione put her hand over the

mouthpiece as to ensure a one way connection.

Moments before, Emma Granger was furiously scrubbing out a cast iron

pot in her kitchen, desperately trying to pretend that nothing is wrong.

Her sweet baby didn't almost get eaten by a demon last night. No, it

didn't happen. Why won't this bloody burnt cheese give way?

The telephone began to ring.

Emma(1) was halfway to the phone before her cheese encrusted pot hit

the floor, cracking the corner off of a ceramic floor tile.

"Hello?" Emma always told Daniel that becoming parents would be the

death of them. She started taking the old joke seriously once an old

Scotswoman arrived at their doorstep and boldly proclaimed that their

precious little bookworm was a witch. An honest to God, broom flying,

spell casting (don't forget stake burning) witch. Then there were the

letters home about a troll or something in her first year at magical

boarding school. She was joking right? In Hermione's second year, their

girl had come down with some sort of magical illness that put her in the

Hospital Wing for three weeks. So much for 'superior medical care'. How

good could they be if it took as long as a muggle hospital visit to cure

some sickness that Mrs. McGonagall assured her wasn't deadly?

Hermione's letters home weren't nearly so descriptive after that. Not until

Harry died. Harry died… and almost took Emma's daughter with him by

grief alone.

"Baby? Is that you?! Oh, thank God! You've given us quite a scare. Where

are you? Are you hurt, dear? Where are you? France? The Prophet article

is true, then? How true? What about… what about the picture? Harry's a

ghost now? Did you… were you really attacked? And the bit in the paper

about the little girl and Harry?" Hermione's father had gone into work,

but Emma was staying home just in case Hermione tried to contact home.

Luckily for her Hermione did. Emma had a minute or two to conduct her

interrogation before being interrupted.

-knock-knock-knock-

"Hold on, Sweetheart, there's someone at the door. What is it dear? But

why dear?"

-knock-knock-knock-

"I'll put it on speakerphone… hold on, dear." The marginally less frantic

woman pressed a button on her phone's base unit and walked through a

cased opening into the Granger family's entry foyer.

"Yes?" Emma Granger opened her front door.

"Ah, Mrs. Granger. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, may I have a moment of your time?"

Hundreds of kilometers away, Hermione's eyes went wide. So did Fleur's.

Apolline added her own listening charm to the phone.

"Please do come in. Would you like some tea?" Emma's ability to host tea

parties with work associates served her well this morning as Albus did

not detect any deceit or tension in her greeting.

"I must decline your generous offer as I have a very tight schedule this

morning." Albus went as far as the center of Emma's foyer before turning

to properly address her.

"Perhaps another time, then."

"Of course. But for now, I have a serious matter to discuss."

"Oh, dear. Is Hermione in the Hospital Wing again? Professor McGonagall

promised that such things were not going to happen to my daughter

again." Whether she chose to be honest with the Headmaster or not,

motherly concern was easy to express.

"No, Mrs. Granger. Quite the opposite has happened… you see, Hermione

has left Hogwarts grounds and was taken to France late last night."

"What? Taken to France?"

"I assure you that she is physically safe for the moment, but I fear for her

mental state."

"I beg your pardon? For the moment? I want details, Headmaster."

"She was convinced by the Delacour family to leave England discreetly

late last night. I'm afraid that I cannot provide more details than that as

the matter is still under investigation."

"My daughter is in another country, Mister Dumbledore. You're going to

have to do better than that."

"Mrs. Granger. I need to know if Hermione tries to get in touch with you."

"But why would the Delacours take her in the first place? She considered

them to be very close friends."

"I have my suspicions. Your daughter has already been convinced to give

the Delacours a wand that Minister Fudge declared a historic artifact.

This wand was not the only item of Mr. Potter's that your daughter

received in his will and you can now see what kind of target that makes

her in the magical world."

"Right now I only have your word for all this, Headmaster. Why isn't one

of those aurors here to see me. Can I get a magical paper? Surely an

international abduction of this type is on the front cover."

"I'm here as your daughter's Headmaster and as a Ministry representative,

Misses Granger. I hold a rather important office in the Wizengamot."

"What about that paper?"

"I'm sorry, but as this is a muggle household it is far too risky to leave a

magical newspaper in your care." Albus took out a piece of parchment.

"This parchment is charmed so that anything you write on it will be

recorded on another parchment in my office at Hogwarts. It is urgent that

you make use of it as soon as your daughter makes her presence known."

"You will be hearing from me and my husband soon enough, Headmaster.

You can be sure of that."

"Thank you for your time, Madame. I assure you that I will do everything

within my power to set things right again. Hermione will be home, happy

and healthy quite soon. Good day."

"Good day, Mister Dumbledore." Emma watched the Leader of the Light

calmly walk his fork tongued arse right out of her foyer and down the

front walk.

-click-

"Mum?" Anyone watching in the atrium could see Hermione shiver from

nerves and fear.

"Yes?"

"You don't believe him, do you?" Apolline and Alian whispered to each

other, trying to decide if this conversation should be considered evidence

in today's proceedings.

"While I've seen this Skeeter woman lie about you before, I didn't like

what your Headmaster had to say. Not at all. Hermione, dear?"

"Yes, Mum?" Harry wanted to hold Hermione close and tell her that it

would be alright. He needed to, but as a ghost his hands were tied until

she turned in for the night. Harry began to see a potential flaw in the 'be

Hermione's ghost boyfriend' scenario that the two of them were so eager

to explore last night.

"The Headmaster is out on the lawn, waving his wand about. What's he

doing?"

"Mother said that Headmaster Dumbledore is on her lawn with his wand out.

He's casting something. Can he do that?" Hermione's general question was

answered by Alain.

"It's probably illegal, but who's going to accuse him? They'll say your parents

should feel honored to have wards cast on their home by such a famous

wizard. They will likely be wards to alert him of your return home."

"Mum. He's probably casting wards to catch me if I come home or

something. We can't do anything about it either. Look, I have to go,

Mum." Alain was tapping his watch in front of Hermione.

"What- why?"

"The French Ministry of Magic is interested in what happened to us last

night. French citizens almost lost their souls on English soil. Their

Champion was kidnapped. I have to testify… look, I'm being told I have

to hang up, Mum. I'll call again when I can. I'll write too. Give my love to

Dad."

"I love you, Hermione, dear."

"Love you too, Mum." As soon as Hermione hung up the phone, Fleur and

Segolene jumped in to give comfort and support. She was given a five

minute reprieve when Alain discovered that several Ministry wards

directed towards ghosts would have to be modified to give Harry free

passage. As he was a star witness, they were not about to leave him

behind.

That night in Hermione's dreams, Harry and Gabby both did their best to

distract Hermione, but she was afraid. The Ministry of Magic had her

home address. Dumbledore had already made a personal house visit.

What if Delores Umbridge also chose to visit the Granger residence?

Worse yet, what if she sent ministry 'representatives' on an errand just as

she must have done the night of the Third Task? Really, who else could

have controlled the dementors that way? Minister Fudge asked Umbridge

where the dementors were and what they were doing. Umbridge knew

the answers. Who's to say she couldn't send the soul suckers on a little

stroll through Kent... If she were willing to have a witch 'accidentally'

kissed, then what of two muggles? It would be even easier wouldn't it?

Harry and Gabby did everything they could to comfort the distraught

girl, but in the end, all they could do was wait for morning and hope that

the elder Delacours would have sound advice.

-o\O/o-

Le Mystique

26 june 1995

POTTER APPEALS TO FRANCE

Friends, Parisians, countrymen, lend me your ears. In a series of secure and

restricted interviews, officials from the Department of Magical Foreign Affairs

and the Department of Magical Justice both sat down to hear testimony from

members of the Delacour family, Beauxbatons student Segolene Royal (17),

Hogwarts student Hermione Granger (15) and the ghost of Harry Potter

(d.14). Sources present during the testimonies confirmed previous reports of a

dark plot to kidnap the winning Triwizard champion, a dementor incident and

an English witch's flight from the British Isles by order of the boy she loves.

The dead boy she loves.

Granger swore under oath that four dementors approached her, Royal and the

witches of the Delacour family acting consistently with dementors on the hunt.

How would a fifteen year old know, you ask? She swore by her magic and her

life that she and Potter were both nearly kissed by dementors at least twice on

Hogwarts grounds last year during the hunt for Sirius Black. Potter himself

was approached by dementors not less than four times. Potter agreed with all

of Granger's statements. While Potter did testify willingly, he was unable to

swear a magically binding oath due to his deceased state.

Potter's personal testimony included an appeal to the French Ministry of Magic

for protection of the two witches who share his heart between them. As

reported before, Granger and Potter are the most tragic lovers from the British

Isles since Morgana and Merlin. Both witch and ghost admitted before

witnesses that they did not admit their love for each other or kiss before his

death. The photo below, courtesy of Bozo Scherzen, is not only the first ever

captured kiss between living witch and spirit, but also the First Kiss of a

romantic nature for both subjects. And he loves a second? Once you hear who,

you can only agree with Potter.

In a shocking admission, Potter confirmed much of the legend behind Potter's

Mark. Moments before dying in the Second Task of the Triwizard

Tournament, Potter willingly sacrificed himself in a heroic effort to save

Gabrielle Delacour(8). Hear the explanation in his own words, "I knew I was

dying. I could feel it. And then I remembered that I was not alone, that there

was this sweet innocent little girl hurt just as I was and dying as well. I

couldn't just give up so I tried with my last breath to do for Gabrielle what my

mother is said to have done for me. I loved her. I gave her everything, my

heart, my life and my magic… I pushed all of it into a kiss on her forehead

hoping that she might survive somehow." When asked if his kiss matched the

now famous kiss shaped mark on Delacour's forehead he said it did. Delacour

repeated her admonition that Potter saved her life and would not credit

Headmaster Dumbledore nor Headmistress Maxime for their efforts. Due to

her age, it was agreed by the Ministry panel that she not take a magical oath

to support her statements.

Why do Gabrielle Delacour and Hermione Granger need France's protection?

The dementor assault was no accident. Granger provided written evidence in

the form of letters from the Under-Secretary to the British Minister for Magic,

Delores Umbridge. These letters demanded Granger surrender Potter's wand to

the Minister for Magic's office. Granger sent the wand by owl to the youngest

Delacour instead. In later letters, Umbridge makes several prejudiced

comments and claims that Granger will suffer the dementor's kiss should she

fail to submit. Granger also stated that in a private meeting with Albus

Dumbledore, the Headmaster advised her that the Minister's office had no

legal right to seize Potter's wand.

Potter supported Granger's decision to send his wand to France by explaining

how Gabrielle defended her family on the night of the Third Task. "I couldn't

say if it was accidental magic or something more, but Gabby held my wand

and cast a patronus which took my form. In fact, I was the center of that spell.

Apolline (Delacour, 37) says I saved her family. I say Gabby did. If she didn't

have my wand… if she didn't cast a spell that night then five witches would

have been kissed by dementors." Of the five witches nearly kissed that night,

four of them were French citizens. What does Potter mean when he claims to

be the 'center' of a spell? He refused to comment further. Perhaps the living are

not meant to know such details about the dead.

Magical citizens of France. Do we do as Harry Potter asks and protect two

girls who own this famous ghost's heart or do we leave them to the hands of

fate and the British Ministry of Magic? Write The Mystic at our Paris Office

with your opinion.

For a history of the Delacour family, see page 8.

For a history of Harry Potter, see page 9.

For more on dementors, see page 14.

Apolline looked up from her morning paper to hoping to see her husband

or Hermione. She had found the two and Harry at the breakfast table

earlier in the morning discussing the Grangers and what could be done to

help their situation. An idea was hatched by the young British witch that

seemed to be worth pursuing, so the small war party chose to retire to

the one room in this structure which would help their plans along.

Beep beep beep… ….beeep beep… …beep beeep beep beep... …beep

beeep beeep beeep.

Here in the Delacour family's most secure property, one room was set

aside for non-magical technologies and shielded against the wards. Their

other properties were mostly a mix of magical with shielded electronics.

Two rental properties outside of France were magically inert.

None of that mattered to Hermione right now, though curiosity would get

the better of her after her main concern was taken care of.

"Mum?"

-o\O/o-

Albus Dumbledore sat majestically in his chair in the Great Hall of

Hogwarts sipping his morning tea. Considering recent events, he thought

it pertinent to take every meal with the students so long as his schedule

permits. Perhaps a conversation between friends or some owl post to one

of these future leaders of Magical Britain would be the key to Voldemort's

final defeat. Such a boon would be far preferable than trying to forcibly

extract key figures from distant shores.

Albus mentally reminded himself to draft a letter to the International

Confederation of Wizards requesting extradition. It would be a third or

fourth option at best, but having the document written ahead of time

would help in the long run. Even charming Miss Granger's parents

directly would be preferable no matter how distasteful. Magically

tampering with British muggles would be both an internal affair and easy

to conceal.

Owls began to appear. First it was just one or two… the faster breeds.

Soon dozens of owls passed through the Great Hall's clerestory windows

with scrolls, envelopes and newspapers in claw and beak. Albus himself

took a copy of the Prophet, ready to filter through the disinformation to

glean new insight into Fudge's initial smear campaign against the

Delacours, when a second owl carrying the Prophet landed before him.

"Ah! You see, my feathered friend, that I already have a copy of the

Prophet. You may be mistaken as to your delivery rout." The bird didn't

move, not that he expected it to. Owls don't make mistakes such as this.

He passed his wand over the bird and cast a charm or two to make sense

of this avian riddle before him.

"Oh, dear. Most unexpected." Albus creased his brow in thought.

"What, Headmaster, is 'most unexpected' if I may ask?" The old man was

so deep in thought that he had forgotten about having company at the

Staff Table and quickly thought of a cover to distract his Deputy

Headmistress.

"Nothing to worry about, I assure you. I should have expected Miss

Granger's daily paper to be delivered to her Magical Guardian when she

herself was out of reach. I suppose I shall just have to cancel her

subscription until such a time as she returns." Albus saw that while still

skeptical, Minerva was not going to make an issue of it. Perhaps a slight

distraction is in order. "How are your lions taking her disappearance?"

"Most only whisper rumor and gossip. Only the Weasleys show any real

reaction and Ginny is chief among them. Hermione was always closer to

Harry than anyone else, even young Ronald."

"We shall see. Miss Granger is unlikely to drop out, not with her grades.

She can only hide from the future for so long." Albus would reconsider

the Granger problem at a later date. For now, he had students to

supervise and secret meetings to arrange. His old friend Alastor Moody

was officially missing now and that meant that his little club was short a

second-in-command.

The students before him were an excited lot for the most part as this was

the last weekend before the end of term. Many students were getting lax

in their studies in favor of making plans for the summer holidays with

friends and family.

Two groups of students were still more somber than the rest; those from

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The wizards of Durmstrang were quiet and

defensive, just as they had been since their Champion was grievously

wounded and their Headmaster disappeared unexpectedly. Albus was

told to expect the Deputy Headmaster and a Bulgarian Ministry official to

appear on Monday or Tuesday to regain control of their students. Victor

was still recovering in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing in part to give the

other Durmstrang students a chance to visit with him and to help him

recover before the journey home. The witches of Beauxbatons were full

of nervous activity. Being far more active than their Bulgarian

counterparts yet at the same time far less positive... well, the Hogwarts

staff was getting curious even with Madame Maxime's occasional non

sequiturs and distracting questions about their teaching techniques.

Madame Maxime may have been capable of distracting the Head of

Raveclaw House, but she was unable to keep Ravenclaws themselves

from listening in to hushed conversations in French. One claw finally

managed to snag a copy of Le Mystique from the girls in blue.

While gossip didn't spread nearly as fast in Ravenclaw as it did in the

other houses, it still spread. An interview with Potter's ghost and a Potter

legend unknown in England were two items that could not be suppressed

by Madame Maxime or her girls any longer. The direct accusation of

attempted murder against Under-Secretary Umbridge was like spilling oil

on a fire. Claws translated the paper to their fellow claws. Lions and puffs

overheard the conversations and amplified the rumor mill. Snakes went

right to their claw associates or to whichever French student looked the

most approachable. The young men of Durmstrang stayed out of it for

rumors did not make Victor recover any faster.

"Miss Chang." The claws near Cho went silent as dis several lions and

puffs nearby.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I'd like a look at that paper if you don't mind."

"Not at all Headmaster." As one of the most popular Hogwarts witches

and a rather intelligent lass to boot, she was by default one of the claws

who managed to get a copy of Le Mystique in front of her. Or rather, she

did until Headmaster Dumbledore relieved her of her copy. Soon every

Head of House and most other Professors either had a copy of the Mystic

or a member of the student body reporting on the paper's contents.

Olympe didn't need one as her own early edition was delivered before

breakfast in the carriage.

"Why Olympe, my dear... you have been keeping secrets from us." Albus

used a playful tone. No need to scare away his fellow school head.

"Not actively Dumbly-dorr.(2) We simply 'eld to national lines when

discussing ze news. When were you going to inform me zat I was a dark

creature and zat ze 'alf-breed Veela Delacour family was preparing to

sacrifice ze virginal Mademoiselle Granger to resurrect ze Dark Lady

Jeanne d'Arc? Should I 'ave my girls read zat Prophet article? You zink

zey will like it? Gabrielle is surrounded wiz loving family and her

condition leaves her wiz no ill effects. 'arry Potter chooses to stay wiz 'er

and 'o am I to argue? Ze little angel is a student in our école élémentaire

program. She is a primary school student and far too young to receive ze

kind of attention you English 'blessed' your own Boy-'o-Lived wiz. We

take care of our own." Olympe held firm.

Albus internally regretted the scandal driven nature of the Prophet. At

first, the shocking scandal of the Third Task lent itself to an almost pro-

Delacour paper. Then the real scandal mongers in the Minister's office got

involved and you would think that Saint Cedric only just saved Victor's

'miserable drug fueled existence' from the 'Demon Siren of Marseille'.

Direct quotes from today's Prophet, the both of them. Apparently Fleur

summoned her Hell spawned slaves to assault the general public and Miss

Granger sacrificed her own freedom to block the ritual from ending

properly. The fork-tongued junior miss demoness Gabrielle simply took

credit for saving the day after enslaving the weak willed and naïve spirit

of Harry Potter. This is the 'truth' as told by Rita Skeeter. If only so many

students in this very room didn't openly favor that interpretation despite

witnessing events directly. Oh, well... if it got him Miss Granger and

Mister Potter any faster, he could work with it. Perhaps he could 'turn'

the 'dark tendencies' of the youngest Delacour if she attended Hogwarts

rather than Beauxbatons. It was an unlikely scenario, but he owed it to

the Greater Good to plot it out at the very least.

"Mister Potter is clearly attached to Miss Granger who has yet to take her

O.W.L.s and will not simply abandon her own parents. Your 'little angel'

lays claim to an English national treasure... two if you count Harry

himself as a treasure and not a sentient being. As the Headmaster of this

school, the Chief Warlock of our Wizengamot and the Supreme

Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, it is clearly

within my prerogative to guide stray sheep back to the flock."

"I am but a mere 'eadmistress. You will 'ave to take up your issues wiz

ozer department officials, Dumbly-dorr." Albus may have mistaken her

expression as relief to have the lesser title and influence. For her part,

Olympe would find it difficult to wait for Hermione to write out her

transfer papers. Perhaps she should call in a favor or two and study the

political asylum angle. Oh, what a spectacular headline that will be one

day soon! Dark Lady d'Arc indeed. Bastards.

-o\O/o-

"Yes, thank you, Mum. You too, Dad. Please be careful. Yes. I- I love you

both. B-bye." Hermione put down the receiver. She didn't cry, but she

wanted to.

They had a plan now. Hopefully her Mum and Dad would be unmolested

long enough to use it.

Hermione would see her parents nearby in Marseille, hopefully in a

week's time. In a way, their escape plan was no different than the family

Holiday already scheduled. The Granger family already planned on

taking a trip this summer to the French Riviera; this would not change.

Hopefully the Grangers would be able to retrieve some of their deposits

on rental properties, as they were now to be the guests of the Delacours.

Daniel and Emma would be given a choice between two family chateaus

or a townhouse rent free. Apolline and Alain quietly discussed the

possibility that it may be a more long term arrangement, but one could

hope the Grangers' lives would not be so disrupted as that.

-o\O/o-

June 28th, 1995

After a Sunday spent together doing as much female bonding as possible,

the extended Delacour household prepared for the remaining school year

which only extended four days to July first. Segolene's mother Marie

came over for several hours to cry on her daughter's shoulder and fuss

over Gabrielle. Professors were allowed to check in on their students at

home, were they not? As Apolline took her morning meal, she considered

what her family would be doing for the next week or so. Gabby would

see her little friends again and hopefully begin to feel a bit more normal.

As normal as an internationally famous eight year old can be, at least.

Fleur and Segolene would return to Beauxbatons for some last minute

N.E.W.T. studies before any of their Champion Candidate friends came

back from Scotland. Hermione would be allowed to accompany the two

older teens, giving her a chance to familiarize herself with the school and

school library she hoped to spend the rest of her magical education in.

Harry would… well, Apolline didn't know what he would do, but she was

sure he would do something. Harry didn't seem the type to just stay in

one house or one room all summer long whether alive or dead.

Apolline set down her morning paper. Next to it was post from friends,

family, associates and the press. She and her family were now in the

social and political spotlights of much of magical Europe. While this is

not unheard of for the Monsieur and Madame of the house, what's

different is the focus on their children and current young guests.

Twenty requests for interviews arrived for the Triwizard Champion alone.

At least a dozen magical companies have offered generous contracts for

Fleur to act as a representative, spokesmodel or similar employee so they

can use the Veela Champion in their ad campaigns. There were also two

respectable offers for her to model at more successful fashion houses. Not

one Betrothal Contract made it past the ward line so a final tally there

couldn't be guessed at. She also received nearly two hundred letters from

friends and classmates who either wished to congratulate her for her

success, express their sympathies about her abduction and/or ask her out.

Fleur would get no rest between now and her N.E.W.T. exams; exams

which were to be conducted during the second week of July.

Segolene enjoyed taunting Fleur about her fame right up to the point

where Apolline dropped a stack of letters in front of the way too perky

brunette. Nine interview requests, two spokesmodel contracts and about

fifty letters from friends and classmates. Not bad considering her most

famous family member not named Delacour was entrenched in the non-

magical world as a representative in the National Assembly. She

wondered if any of those annoying fires at the ward line were meant for

her.

Apolline's Little Angel. The Girl-Who-Lived. The Veela child with Potter's

Mark. Alain was carefully screening post for his youngest and would

hand her a letter or two per hour on average. Gigi and Aimee both

demanded in writing that Gabby return to school before summer. It was

boring without her. Alain once mentioned that Gabby was receiving more

post than her sisters combined. Yes, he included both Segolene and

Hermione in that statement.

And Hermione was getting post. Alain was screening hers as closely he

was Gabby's as no one knew what to expect in the post for the Girl-Who-

Fled. She was the recipient of a relatively small stack of letters for

interviews, emotional support and a querry from Professor McGonagall

that all managed to survive Monsieur Delacour's screening process.

-o\O/o-

"Momma. How do I look?" Gabrielle spun in place in her light blue school

uniform allowing an inch or two more of her white cotton socks to show

than usual. While her uniform was cute, even stylish, she would have to

get on a swing or run at a full sprint to expose her knees. Harry clapped

for his pretty princess.

"You wear it well, as always." Apolline came up behind her daughter and

made a last minute adjustment of her uniform hat to fit just so. "So…

have you remembered what is different about today?"

"Yes, Momma. I'm taking Harry to meet my friends." Gabby smiled at Harry

and he winked back.

"Don't forget, you must ask permission from Professor Royal."

"She told me it was okay yesterday." Pout, pout, pout.

"She said that she would look into it, not that it was okay. There are wards on

the school to keep spirits out, you know." Alas, Momma was building up

immunity to her pout. Gabby would have to work harder next time.

"Sorry, Momma. But… but how will Harry go with me if we don't know?"

Apolline gave the girl a little kiss on the head. Right there. "Can't he go

back 'Inside' as you call it? You said he came 'Outside' before."

Gabby's eyes lit up. So did Harry's. "Ohhhhhhh. Thank you, Momma. Love

you."

"I love you as well, Gabrielle. Now off you go." Momma waved to her Little

Angel.

Little Angel smiled at her Momma and waved back before opening her

arms to Harry. Harry immediately moved to Gabby. About a half step

before reaching her open arms, the boy vanished. Gabrielle pulled her

arms in close and began to shake. Harry's parting wave took the form of

gooseflesh down Gabby's neck and shoulders.

"Stoppit! That tickles! Teee-he-he-he-he-he-snort-ha-ha-ha!" Gabby took a

moment to scratch her forehead. "I'll miss you, Momma! Goodbye!"

Little Angel finally had everything she needed and stepped up to the

fireplace. Grabbing a pinch of floo powder, she turned one pointed finger

at her own chest and boldly declared, "This time, let me do it Harry. You

always come up short."

Apolline put a hand over her mouth as Gabby threw the floo powder into

the fire. It took her seven whole years longer than Gabby to say those

words to a boy and the situation was completely different. Apolline just

had to drop that one into a pensive. Someone's getting embarrassed at

her wedding reception one day.

The petit silver-blonde student yelled, "Joliebatons Academie!" and

followed the words with a leap worthy of anyone who's spent half her life

practicing ballet. That's four whole years.

-o\O/o-

"And here we have our library." Segolene opened an ornate gilt door, one

of a pair, to allow Hermione entrance into the Beauxbatons knowledge

repository. Hermione's eyes widened just as they had each time she was

introduced to a new section of the French school of magic. While

Beauxbatons did qualify as a castle, the word palace might be more

appropriate.

Hermione was quite impressed.

"This looks like something Louis the Fourteenth would have liked."

Hermione was heard to murmur as she stepped into the two story space.

Fleur smirked.

"'e would and 'e did. Our castle looks like a close cousin to the Château de

Versailles , does she not?"

"What? You mean he was here?" World history brought to life. Hermione

was eating out of Fleur's palm.

"More than that. 'e planned and payed for it all!" Fleur waved her hand to

encompass the whole room yet intending the move to encompass their

campus. "While ze Sun King was not magical 'imself, a cousin of 'is was

found to be a witch. 'e became a patron and benefactor to Magical France

just as 'e was to the arts of his non-magical subjects. In return, we may

have added a decade or two to his lifespan and therefore his reign."

As Fleur and Segolene led an excited and gaping Hermione through her

informal orientation, dozens of younger witches could be seen gaping

back. None of those witches expected to see their Champion return to

Beauxbatons grounds unless it was as a new Assistant Professor. More

than a few girls were willing to bury years of jealousy of the fantastically

good looking Veela for national pride. Not only was Miss Delacour

walking the halls, but she had Miss Royal and -gasp- Harry Potter's lover,

Hermione Granger, with her! Talk about gossip gold!

-o\O/o-

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning Professor Royal." Sixteen students called out together.

"I see Gabrielle is back from abroad. Welcome home, Miss Delacour."

"Thank you, Professor Royal." Several little giggles broke out. Everyone

knew that the Delacours and Royals were close and it was fun to watch

the two play 'I don't know you' every day. Everyone also knew that

Gabby was not given special treatment; any time she did something

wrong, she would be corrected like any other student.

A hand came up.

"Yes, Miss Delacour?"

"May I invite my friend Harry to class, Professor Royal?"

Marie Royal hesitated before answering. As much as she thought it would

be a good learning experience for the children, the professor knew that

her school was as well warded as Beauxbatons was.

"While the class could use a good lesson on spirits, I am afraid that our school

wards would stop Mister Potter at the gates and magical entry foyer."

"But... but if he got past the gates... if he got into this room... would he be

okay?"

"No ghost has slipped through school wards before, Miss Delacour, but if

Mister Potter could pull off the feet then I would be happy to host him for a

day."

Gabrielle's smile lit the room. While fifteen other eight and nine year

old's plus her professor watched in confusion, Gabby closed her eyes and

bonked herself on the head twice with a balled fist.

"Knock, knock! Harry! Come outside and play!" Much to the amazement of

her class, the spirit of Harry Potter materialized to the left of Gabby's

desk.

At a professional level, Marie was a bit disturbed at his success. She

would have to point out to the school Headmaster that there may be a

weak point in the ward scheme.

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing anyone." After introducing himself,

Harry thought for a moment that perhaps some of these children may not

be as good with English and he knew Gabby and Professor Royal were.

"Sorry. I should have said 'Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing anyone.'"

"Welcome to our class, Mister Potter. I'm sure the class has some questions...

we'll stick to polite questions... and then perhaps you could help me teach the

class about multiplication today."

"I'd be delighted."

-o\O/o-

July 2nd,1995

When Cedric Diggory walked into the Great Hall for today's Leaving

Feast, the first thing he noticed was the banners and drapes which

decorated the walls and ceiling.

Black. It was all black.

The Triwizard Champion, or Triwizard Survivor as he preferred to call

himself to those who asked about his 'victory', took a seat at Hufflepuff

table quietly as did most of the students who were filtering in. In a show

of diplomacy, he chose to sit halfway down the table, leaving a sizable

length between himself and Cho Chang's normal seat.

He wouldn't want his back to her this evening, not after their talk last

night. Cho was shocked into silence for the first minute of Cedric's 'we

need to talk' heart-breaker. When panic did win out over shock, her half

moaned declaration of love cut him deep, but did nothing to change his

course. For half an hour, Cho tried again and again to make the

Hufflepuff seeker change his mind. She went so far as to imply just how

'appreciative' she would be that very night if he would just promise to

'sleep on it'. When even that desperate tactic failed to win him over,

scorn beat down shock and panic to rule the next hour of public

arguments and near hexings that kept Cedric from reaching his House

Common Room. By the time he finally did escape her wrath, threats of

cutting of his other head and stuffing it down 'that Veela whore's throat'

were echoing down the halls of Hogwarts.

That was last night. Now, less than a day later, Cedric was hoping that he

would not get a curse in the face for his actions. Luckily for him, harsh

looks from Ravenclaw and taunts from the Slytherin Table to his back

were at a minimum and were easily shrugged off. After some harmless

small talk with the third and fourth years who had given their House

hero a warm welcome, he ate.

The food tasted every bit as good as it did for the other five Leaving

Feasts Cedric experienced, but there was a sadness in the room that

seemed to take the fun out of it for everyone. Everyone except for many

of the Slytherins anyway. Not that he looked, but the Third Year witch

sitting opposite him was only to happy to report on the smug grins that

graced many student's faces from the openly dark families.

While the Great Hall had been subdued during the bulk of the Leaving

Feast, the room still grew silent as Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat

at the center of the staff table.

"The end... of another year." Albus swept the room with his gaze. There is

much that I would like to say tonight, but first I must acknowledge those

who are not in this room. I would like for you all to please stand and

raise your glasses with me. To Harry Potter." (3)

Nearly the entire hall did as asked. With benches scraping against stone,

most of the hall stood with raised glass and repeated, "To Harry Potter."

Cedric noticed a few of his housemates glaring at a point further down

the Slytherin Table behind him. It didn't take any leap of logic to infer

that certain young snakes had refused to toast the lost son of Gryffindor.

"Mister Potter was a brave young man struck down in a most tragic

accident. This was not the first time he made a supreme sacrifice to save

the life of an innocent. You all know of the tragedy which took his

parents while giving England it's freedom from Voldemort, " Albus had to

pause to let the gasps of the audience lessen, "but how much of his story

is mere rumor? Considering the closeness between them, it should come

as no surprise to any of you here today that when Professor Quirrel

yelled out that a troll was loose in the castle, a young Harry and his close

friend Ron Weasley ran to Hermione Granger's side and saved her from

the angry troll which had trapped her in a water closet. With less than a

year's magical instruction between them, the two boys showed Gryffindor

courage enough to defeat a troll even before Professors could reach them.

"In his second year here at Hogwarts, Harry again risked his own life to

save a young witch who had been secreted away to the legendary

Chamber of Secrets. Even separated from his two closest friends, Harry

managed to kill an ancient beast and rescue Ginny Weasley."

Halfway down the Gryffindor Table, sobs could be heard. Ginny didn't

want to interrupt but it hurt so much to be reminded that her personal

savior, the boy she intended to marry one day, was dead.

"When Harry Potter's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, I was as upset

as any of you were. We now know that even then we were not as upset as

Harry himself. It shames me to admit I believed him capable of tricking

the Goblet of Fire. I would never have suspected him if the boy hadn't

been so good at defying the odds in the three years previous. I now know

he was innocent, but that gives me little comfort. Someone put Harry

Potter's name in the goblet planning on sending the young Gryffindor to

his death... and tragically, they were successful. Before a crowd of more

than a thousand wizards and witches, Harry made the ultimate sacrifice

and saved one more young witch at the cost of his own life.

"I ask you to judge Harry Potter, not by what is written about him in

newspapers or books by people who have never met him, but by your

own memories." Of course, by mentioning newspapers, he was

guaranteeing that they would read the Daily Prophet anyway. It was no

accident that he chose to say nothing either for or against Gabrielle.

"But Harry Potter is not the only student who is missing from out feast

tonight. Please raise your glasses again for Victor Krum."

"Victor Krum." Once again the students stood... all of them this time...

and rumbled out the name of a Champion.

"Madam Pomphrey and her colleagues from Saint Mungo's were able to

treat the worst of the Bulgarian Champion's injuries before he and his

countrymen returned to Durmstrang two nights ago. With a bit of luck

and a great deal of effort, he may one day take to the air again."

Scattered applause met the Headmaster's declaration.

"All four Champions were scarred to some extent by this year's Triwizard

Tournament and it warms my heart to think that the three surviving

Champions chose to touch the Triwizard Cup together in honor of Harry

Potter. The tournament's aim was to further and promote magical unity

and understanding. In the light of what has happened this year such ties

are more important than ever before."

As the Headmaster looked across the Great Hall, he noticed the looks that

some of the easily swayed Hogwarts students, even a professor or two,

were giving the remaining Beauxbatons students. He also noted the

troubled expression of the Beauxbatons Headmistress who found herself

unable to go to her girls directly. Even their unofficial student leader for

the trip, Miss Delacour, was not around to take the focus directly and

spare her classmates the glares of hundreds of angry English boys and

girls. The witches in blue had good cause to be nervous as Slytherin

House as a whole had been lobbying both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to

believe the words of the Prophet which had gone from crucifying the

Delacour family in print to implying that the dark tendencies were more

widespread. Cedric found himself spending every second of time not

eating defending the Veela, her school and her country. Cho played the

part of a woman scorned to perfection by becoming the Prophet's most

vocal supporter in the house of intelligence and research. Cedric thought

it was more than a little ironic that her argument was based solely on

emotion and never quoted any verifiable facts or statistics. Gryffindor

threw their weight behind Cedric and Fleur as much as they could, for

the house of lions had taken great pride in seeing Hermione almost take

Harry's place amongst the surviving Champions. The lions had also begun

to realize that if the Prophet could be so wrong about one of their own,

then maybe they could be wrong about other things too.

Albus would make no offer of sanctuary to foreign students. They would

not believe him. There would be no warning of dark times. While Albus

and Severus knew of the Dark Lord's return, none here would accept his

claims without proof and many would deny him even if he had proof.

The Champions didn't stay in the graveyard trap long enough to witness

anything useful. England was now facing dark and difficult times and

both the Ministry and the people were completely unprepared.

"Remember the lessons Harry Potter has tried his whole life to teach us.

Remember that there will come a time when you have a choice between

doing what is right and what is easy. Remember a wizard who could

have returned to his dormitories rather than save a witch from a troll.

Remember a wizard who could have stayed where suspicious eyes could

see him rather than sneak off to face a basilisk and protect an innocent

girl. Remember a wizard who took a spear in the chest rather than let go

of an eight year old witch who was the true target of such violence.

Remember Harry Potter."

Many students took many different lessons home with them from the

Headmaster's speech. Whether it was by accident or design, the one

'lesson' which reached the Daily Prophet was simple: The savior of the

Wizarding World, Harry Potter, would still be alive today if it weren't for

Gabrielle Delacour.

-o\O/o-

"Are the students away, Minerva?"

Minerva McGonagall nodded curtly. Albus took this as his opportunity to

indulge in one of his few real yearly rituals no matter what the Prophet

has to say otherwise. He pulled a bottle of Odgen's Finest out of his desk

along with a larger than normal crystal chalice. This year more than any

other, he wanted to drink his troubles away. This year more than any

other, this old defender of the Greater Good needed to finish the night

sober.

"Have you made your decision, Albus?" When he looked up, he could see

no clue to her emotional state or the subject she chose to breach. There

were a lot of decisions he made every day as a Headmaster and he was

quite sure he wouldn't have to make another for at least an hour or two.

"Pray tell, dear witch, what decision are you inquiring about tonight now

that all of the students and a good deal of the staff have left for the

summer?"

"My mistake then. I was sure from your pointed speech to the student

body that you valued your memories of this recent year. I shall ask more

clearly then," Albus looked on in surprise as the old Scotswoman built up

her resolve and added some righteous anger to the mix. "Will you

continue to keep me on as your Deputy Headmistress and Professor of

Transfiguration... or will you retain the services of Severus Snape? You

get no other choices, Headmaster."

Albus openly gaped at his Deputy. Was she truly serious? He knew for a

fact that the dear woman loved Hogwarts like a daughter and every

single student was like a grandchild.

"Is there no other way, Minerva? Who will care for the students as you

have these many years? Who will look after your lion cubs?"

"Obviously you will not! Severus Snape is a worthless bastard, this is

clear enough to any who meet him but for a minute or two. It took how

long?... almost my entire life... from the time that I was a student in these

halls myself for me to discover that you are also a worthless bastard."

Albus was shocked beyond words. "Now I see that Severus must go and

so must you. But that won't happen, will it? You have what you want in

this office... you mold the students to your personal view of the Greater

Good. But you know what? I see your Greater Good clearly now and it's

rubbish. As much as I love this school and as much as I love these

students, I will not sit by your side and play the part of your obedient

sheep hound any longer."

Minerva tossed a wax sealed parchment onto the Headmaster's desk.

"That is my resignation. I have already signed it... I knew what your

response would be. Do not seek to contact me in the future. Do not tell

anyone that I would have supported one of your ideas as you should now

take it as a general rule that I would go against any initiative you

propose. If anyone asks why I resigned, I will tell them the truth in it's

entirety. I will never forgive you for what you have done to the children

under your supervision and I can only pray that you stay your hand

before seeking to mold future generations in the same manor."

Albus had learned to deal with Minerva's fiery temper decades ago, but

this was a cold fury that he had no counter to. He could only shake his

head in denial as one of his greatest allies broke ranks and retired from

the field. Some time after the door closed behind the ex-Deputy

Headmistress, Albus looked again to the bottle of Ogden's Finest on his

desk. He was going to need another one.

End Chapter

Author's notes:

(1) This is the first chapter in which I need names for Hermione's parents.

Rather than try to give them names unique to my story alone, I will bow

to the fanfiction community's own version of canon and stick with Daniel

and Emma. Not a groundbreaking choice, but then it shouldn't be. Not for

these two.

(2) Would a French Headmistress really butcher Dumbledore's name that

hideously? Even with a bad accent? I felt somehow smaller just typing it.

(3) A few lines of this speech align with Dumbledore's speech in canon.

For obvious reasons I couldn't use the whole speech, but there was a

common theme or two that old Albus could stick with.

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Four: Yay, team! I see some chicanes

further on down the plot track and I'll try not to get thrown. Thank you

for those who chimed in on the Who-Hates-Who question. I'm sure to

have it mostly right at this point.

I think I may have to leave this as a standard note from now on;) : Harry

has an animancora but nobody knows that he has one or how to use one.

No wizards anyway. It would take incredible luck and dedication to

figure out what they are and how to bring Harry back with one. Do we

know anyone in this story with incredible luck and maybe someone else

who is dedicated to saving the first person's arse on a fairly constant

basis? Anyone? Surprisingly, I have much deeper plot twists than even

that clue can hint at.

cruailsama – Having children near her age helps me keep her believable.

Many good writers make a common mistake and write young children as

being far more advanced than they should be. Example: Young children

can use logic, but emotions will be a stronger driving force until they

reach that damned age where they suddenly know everything. "But I

don't want too." and "You make me sad!" are frequently the only

explanation you can expect from an eight year old. To be fair, different

kids do mentally mature at different rates.

noylj (and those wondering about just how Harry/Gabby this story

is) – Obviously there will be no naughtiness until Gabby is the proper age

for it. Having said that, I can now say that only the Epilogue will have

Gabby as a teen or older, so Gabby will be pure and innocent from start

to finish (exept Epilogue). Also pay attention to the fact that Hermione is

getting older and Gabby is getting older but Harry is not. So long as

Harry is a ghost, he is a fourteen year old ghost. Even in dreamland.

gravacor – this story does look very Harmonian right now. While Gabby

is the key to Everything, Hermione will never be abandoned. Harry

would hurt you for even suggesting he do so. Well, he would as soon as

he figured out how. My other story makes great use of ghostly abilities,

but I'm still deciding how many ways a ghost should be able to interact

with it's environment in this story.

Darren Alston – I think there will be more scenes like this. Harry may

not have passed onto the afterlife, but as a ghost he could be pressed into

service by powers controlling the afterlife. Sort of a forced temporary

boatman on the River Styx. It's karma for all of the stories where Harry

becomes the Master of Death.

Hivedragon – Thank you and yes I do sometimes suck at writing. I once

got an 8/64 on one of those grammar tree quizzes. Thank god for word

processing programs or I would never have written a single word. On the

plus side, if you write a story with more than a hundred-thousand words

in it, you tend to improve some.

pfeil – If Hermione got pregnant in her dreams, would it be a dream

baby? Go to dream school? At first, that sounds weird, but then when

you really think about it... hmmmmm. But not for this story.

deitarion/SSokolow – Voldemort looks quite demonic if you think about

it. Add to that my Little Angel as his replacement must-die-target and you

have the makings of an Old Testament level ass whoopin'. Let the smiting

begin.

Alorkin – I should print out your notes after all is said and done and

send them to you by mail as a tribute. I gave a medallion to Umbridge for

control. In canon, Fudge walks into Hogwarts with only a dementor by

his side to snuff Crouch Junior, right? He must have a control artifact or

something. It's been a while since I was a teen and my oldest isn't a teen

yet, so I can only hope that I don't give the teens that flood this story

more smarts than they deserve. Snape might be my test subject for a time

travel fubar. Don't tell anyone I used the word 'paradox', m-kay?

SomeGuyFawkes – Looks like I will never be free of typos, but at least I

can be pretty sure of killing lots of evil bastards. No 'prison and/or

redemption' is to be had when angels and demons clash.

tazz4 – He is a ghost. He does have a close connection to Gabby which

can help him span the gap over to Hermione's dreams and possibly others

should they remember to try. Harry does have a long-shot chance at

becoming not-dead again and lot's of people are rooting for him to come

back if you read my reviews.

BlazeStryker – I really hadn't thought of it that way... but, yeah! That is

a really good way to think about it. Assuming Dumbles ever does get

around to telling anyone the prophecy this time, that very logic could be

mentioned. Harry had to die for Voldy to be free to come back. The

reverse might... might also be true.

7. Follow Me

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Six: Follow Me

July 2nd, 1995

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the floo and into his ancestral home.

The boy blushed but dutifully held still as his mother began to banish

soot and lint off of his travel cloak. A moment later Narcissa judged him

clean enough for a hug.

"Mother! Please….." Draco tried not to whine as he knew she would do

this.

"I just couldn't wait a moment longer." Narcissa kissed her son on the

cheek before taking another step back and busying herself with his collar.

"I am your mother and I love you. Just because we have to show the

common witch and wizard how to behave in public doesn't mean I must

be cold and formal when it's just the two of us."

"Of course, Mother."

Draco watched his mother tilt her head off to one side as if waiting for

something.

"I love you too, Mother." Draco gave his mother a light hug and kissed

her cheek as well. Good answer.

Now that formalities were finally being peeled away, Draco knew it was

only a matter of time before his mother demanded a thorough report on

both his efforts to impress professors and his efforts to woo the young

ladies of Hogwarts. He knew that his mother's opinion of Pansy fell two

years ago and never recovered. Young Ladies were supposed to maintain

their chastity until their wedding night... or at the very least until the

engagement is official. Draco wasn't complaining, though. He knew his

mother would be overjoyed to learn that Daphne Greengrass was now

indebted to him.

POP

A house elf wearing a Malfoy Family napkin as though it were a toga

immediately bowed before them.

"Lady and Young Master! You is being requested in the Lord's study! Lord

Malfoy is being hosting a visitor!"

As Draco watched, motherly love disappeared from Narcissa's face. In its

place was the elegant figure of Lady Malfoy, a proper pureblood icon of

elite social circles. Draco fumed even as he mirrored her actions in

becoming the proper heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. If the visitor

weren't sufficiently well connected, Draco would swear vengeance on

them for forcing his mother to hide herself from him in their own home.

The young scion formally offered his arm to Lady Malfoy. They walked

silently out of the manor's entry hall, up a grand sweeping stair and down

one of the manor's richly decorated hallways. As Narcissa and her son

neared their destination, they saw one of the elves furiously cleaning a

spot on the hall carpet and mumbling to itself.

"…-mumble- visitors not being knowing –mumble-… …blood on the

carpet, Malfoy carpets! The shame!"

The little magical servant nearly died of fright upon seeing Narcissa and

Draco approach.

"Oh, noes! Dipsy is being too slow in cleaning the stain! Dipsy is

slamming hands in oven as soon as stain is gone, she is!"

The distraught house elf cow-towed before Narcissa and Draco. Draco

resisted the urge to kick Dipsy as he passed the cowering creature.

Soon the two were within reach of the heavily carved and gilded door to

Lucius' study.

"Enter." Draco heard his father call.

The door opened itself upon Lord Malfoy's command allowing his wife

and son passage. Inside the study, Narcissa formally presented her son to

Lucius as befitting pureblood custom.

Draco maintained his formality while looking for visitors in his

peripheral vision. It was only as Lucius asked him a question that Draco

noticed someone sitting in one of his father's dragon hide chairs by the

fire.

"How goes your mission at Hogwarts, my son?" Draco saw his father's

eyes briefly flicker to the hidden figure in the chair as the question was

asked. What's going on? Why has there been no introductions?

"My continued efforts to stir things up have worked as expected, Father.

The only Slytherin students of traditional dark families who don't jump

when I call are sixth and seventh years. Those who are not already loyal

will listen to reason when I point out how they can benefit."

"And what of those outside of Slytherin?" Lucius maintained his

interrogation further confusing Draco as the mystery visitor could still

hear everything.

"A few good purebloods in Ravenclaw are willing to do as I say but most

remain independent." Draco knew better than to comment on Hufflepuff

or Gryffindor to his father. Neither Malfoy male expected any followers

in those houses.

Draco heard a harsh bark and a few seconds of deep laughter from their

mystery guest. His father visibly flinched. Did this fool not know how to

show respect to a Lord in their own house? Whoever he was, the wizard

in question shifted in his seat and stood to address the Malfoys.

"And what of your connections in Hufflepuff, young Draco? What of the

Gryffindors?" The… wizard's… uneven gait did nothing to lessen his

shock at how completely unnatural the man looked. How could Father

have allowed such a beast into their home?

"My Lord, there are no worthy students in either house… not even of the

pureblood lines. They are good for nothing but becoming playthings and

servants." Draco was alarmed at his father's declaration.

Was this their Dark Lord? His father deferred to this thing? Whatever

Draco himself felt, his mother was obviously trying to hide a stronger

reaction. She had not forgotten her poise and pureblood upbringing but

Draco could hear his mother's breathing become less controlled.

"Lucius, I'm disappointed in you. Is this how you've been preparing your

son to join the ruling class? By telling him to alienate and ignore half of

all purebloods?" Draco couldn't help but stare at the stranger now.

The wizard who seemed to have more bruises and scar tissue than

healthy skin was staring back into Draco's eyes. Draco felt those blood

red eyes on his and froze in place. How could this be the Dark Lord his

father said would return from the grave? Was this beast even a wizard at

all? His father's plan was doubly cursed; once for being so Gryffindor-ish

in nature and once again for being designed to support this thing before

them.

For just a moment the Dark Lord seemed to grind his teeth in anger

before erupting in more laughter.

"There is potential in you, young Malfoy… but you'll never realize it if

you continue as you are now. Do you know why?" As Draco scrambled

for an answer that wouldn't get him in trouble with his own father, the

being that could only be Voldemort began to pace between Lucius and

his family. "Unable to cross your father in his own house, eh boy? I

understand your hesitation. He hasn't even introduced us."

Lucius moved to act but a harsh glare from his Master easily cowed the

elder Malfoy.

"I am your father's Master. I am Lord Voldemort." There was an awkward

silence as the Malfoys waited for Voldemort to speak again.

"I know you have just left school for the year, Draco, but I have a lesson

for you. If you want to be truly powerful… if you want to have power

beyond what the Malfoy name can get you, then listen. I didn't get where

I am by openly insulting the half-bloods, half-breeds and mudbloods that

inhabited Hogwarts when I was a student there. No. I was a role model, a

prefect and then Head Boy. I didn't openly insult the filth that

Dumbledore befouled Hogwarts' halls with, I simply proved that I was

better. My grades were better, my magic was stronger and my friends

more influential. I didn't tell the filth that I was better than them… they

knew it to be true.

"By my seventh year, I was the undisputed master of Slytherin house and

a trusted role model to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike. I still had

detractors in Gryffindor but at least a third of the house of lions

considered me worth knowing. Do you have any friends in Gryffindor,

Draco?"

Voldemort had delivered his lesson without turning from Draco's gaze

and without stopping his pacing.

"No, My Lord." Draco surprised himself by answering without a stutter.

"You have much to learn about your place in this world, boy. You have

years yet before I will accept you into my service, but before I set off, I

have a task for you."

"Anything, My Lord."

"Inside of the Slytherin Common Room, you can be open in your

opinions, but publicly you will change. Become what I'm sure

Dumbledore desperately wanted Potter to be. Become someone one who

can unite all four houses. Don't be so foolish as to claim a change of

heart, but be more logical, more polite even to the undeserving filth.

Don't tell the mudbloods that they are inferior, prove it as you tutor their

half-blood friends and lead their girlfriends astray."

Voldemort stopped abruptly at the end of his rant and turned his eyes

onto Narcissa. She had been silent and still so far. The Dark Lord smiled

as he addressed the lady of the house. "A pleasure as always, Narcissa."

He two took two steps towards the door out before turning to address

Lucius one last time. "You shall make ready a wing of the manor for my

use. I have much to do these next few days but I will return."

"As you will it, My Lord." Lucius bowed low, an action which both wife

and son copied.

The most gruesome Dark Lord to set foot on British soil in centuries made

a noise half way between grunt and snort before turning on his heel and

leaving the Malfoy family. All three held their silence for several minutes

after the heavy gilt door closed behind Lord Voldemort. Finally, a chime

sounded. Voldemort apparated out of Malfoy Manor's grounds. They were

alone again.

Narcissa spun around and pulled Draco into a deep embrace before

releasing her tears.

"This... this is a good thing, Narcissa dear." Lucius spoke up. "Our Lord

has returned as I knew he would. You will see the world change now. It

will change for the better."

Lucius wanted to comfort his wife, but he knew she was never an eager

supporter of the Dark Lord even at the height of Voldemort's power.

"That was not the man who gave you your mark! He will be the end of us

all! I don't want my son to follow that thing!" Draco felt his mother

shaking against him and wondered how the Dark Lord could possibly

claim to be the Heir of Slytherin, a Lord above all other pureblood Lords.

"You must not say such things, Narcissa! His followers have been

punished for merely thinking ill of him." Lucius opened the cabinet near

his desk and pulled out a crystal decanter of amber liquid. Two crystal

chalices quickly followed. "Draco, please finish settling in and amuse

yourself until breakfast tomorrow. Your mother and I have much to

discuss tonight."

Hesitantly, Draco pulled away from his mother. He could feel her despair.

Was it only an hour ago that he genuinely wanted to see the Dark Lord

reborn? Draco once thought the Dark Mark would be a mark of honor. He

once expected a prince among purebloods to wash away the stain of

lesser beings. He hadn't expected a false savior.

"Everything will be fine, Mother. I swear it." Draco kissed his mother's

hand before leaving his parents alone to discuss things.

As the young Malfoy Scion retraced his steps down the hall, his eyes

strayed to the carpet at his feet. It was clean now... no doubt Dipsy was

busy breaking finger bones in the kitchen. Draco pondered his lot in life.

-o\O/o-

July 9th, 1995

Harry Potter was at peace.

This is not to say that he had passed on to the next great adventure, as he

hadn't. His was the peace of having everything as it should be. The

weather was beautiful. The clouds were fluffy. His girls were happy. If

Harry had been alive, he might have even gone so far as to say that life

was good. At this time yesterday, he and his girls had been much more

anxious.

Well, Harry and Hermione were anxious along with anyone who wasn't

eight years old. Gabrielle had been left out of the loop enough to be

confused, but otherwise happily distracted. Upon seeing Gigi Bruyere and

Aimee Devereux both pin Gabby to the floor and tickle her to within a

hairsbreadth of peeing herself, Harry desperately wanted to learn how to

possess someone so that he could do the tickling. He could tickle Gabby

in her dreams, but it just wasn't the same.

The stress only really left yesterday evening when Daniel and Emma

Granger were united once again with their fugitive daughter. They spent

only a minute or two in teary reunions before being directed by members

of the French Ministry of Magic to a well hidden magical terminal and a

set of portkeys direct to the Delacour maison-forte. After polite greetings

were exchanged, Alain and Daniel talked over wine as their women spent

long hours crying, laughing, talking and crying again. Harry dealt with

being nearly undetectable to the elder Grangers by putting Gabrielle to

bed and guarding over her dreams.

Yes, in hindsight, yesterday turned out rather well and today was quickly

proving even better. Portkeys made sightseeing so much easier as five

hundred kilometers were spanned in seconds. The trip took Harry, the

Delacours and the Grangers from breakfast on a picturesque hillside

within view of the Alps to Sunday Mass in the Meuse Valley.

Domrémy-la-Pucelle is a mostly quiet little commune nestled up against

the Meuse River in northeastern France. The village is as beautiful now as

it was centuries ago when it is said that three Saints, one of them the

Archangel Michael, appeared before an illiterate farmer's daughter and

told her to drive the English out of French lands.

Harry achieved his personal feeling of peace in front of the local church

as the others attended Mass without him. At first, Harry was a bit

disappointed to find that he couldn't actually follow the Delacours and

Grangers in to Mass today. Something about established Houses of God

led to a unique property that many magicals to this day couldn't quite

explain. The church had its own wards; Muggle prayer based ones. Wards

that for whatever reason wouldn't let Harry pass through any of the

portals, windows or even the walls he tried to breach.

Hermione had a new research topic for the summer.

When Harry's favorite bookworm finally stopped trying to push him

through solid objects and followed the others into Mass, Harry was left

with nothing to do but shadow tourists and wait for the service to end.

Well, to be honest, the waiting part was easy now. Being dead was good

for something after all.

Harry knew of course that abandoning his muggle education in favor of

Hogwarts did him no favors when it came to English-French relations and

world history in general so he paid attention whenever he managed to

spot tourists going over the village's history. He very quickly found the

village's main attraction not even a stone's throw from the church. There,

in a simple yet distinctive house with a sharply sloped roof, Jeanne d'Arc

was born. That's Joan of Arc as she's known to the English and American

tourists who didn't learn any French before coming to visit. Harry

thought it was more than a little ironic that he would have qualified as a

member of that group if he were still alive.

Oh, look at that. Another ghost.

At first Harry thought the ghost was a young man, but as he approached,

he realized that he was in fact a she. Harry figured she was older than

him but she really didn't look more than twenty or so. Once he looked

past her unflattering clothes, he saw that she was quite a nice looking

girl. True, she was nowhere close to the standard of a Delacour Veela, but

she would have done alright for herself in Hogwarts.

Harry began to feel a little guilty about checking her out... she was on

her knees praying. That must be double the sin of looking at a girl who's

not praying, right? And in front of a church on Sunday of all days, too.

Harry wanted to joke about going to Hell for such thoughts, but found

that those jokes seemed much less funny and far more serious now that

his heart had stopped working.

Harry looked around the grounds between the famous warrior maiden's

birthplace and the church that said girl must have grown up worshiping

in. Nope. No other ghosts. Just him and her. Despite rising curiosity,

Harry kept his distance. If he were praying on a Sunday, he wouldn't

want to be interrupted either. That tied in to why he was disappointed

wards could keep him out of the centuries old church; Uncle Vernon and

Aunt Petunia never took Harry to church with them... they said he wasn't

good enough, that he'd burn to cinders the moment he crossed the

threshold. How ironic.

"Pardon me." Harry continued to stare at the modest stone church,

straining to feel Gabrielle's presence. At least she seems happy in there.

"Pardon me, young man."

Harry turned around. Was someone actually addressing him?

"Have you come to pray too?" The girl. She was talking to Harry.

"Well, I would have liked to. My aunt and uncle never really let me go to

church with them... and now that I'm like this, I can't seem to get past the

door." Harry had gestured to his own transparent body while talking.

The girl nodded.

"They keep me out too. I pray every day hoping that God will let me back into

His church... but He is punishing me. I can't enter and I can't..." The girl let a

tear fall down her left cheek as she looked heavenward. No wonder she

was praying outside. Why would a girl like her still be Earthbound?

"I can't imagine why God would punish a nice girl like you. Are you sure there

isn't another reason why you... er... stayed here? My... end... was less than

pleasant and I really didn't have what you'd call a full life."

"May I ask how?" Harry smiled. It wasn't really painful to talk about his

death, just awkward.

"You'll never guess, what with all the guns and cars and drugs these days.

Especially considering that I've been like this for less than a year now." Her

eyebrows rose up, tears forgotten for a minute or two. "I got a spear to the

chest as I was swimming my way out of a lake."

"Really? I can't tell you the last time I saw someone take a spear in the chest!

Must have been a hundred years at least... no... it was much longer than that.

And that was on dry land..." She looked up curiously. "How did that

happen?"

How much should he say? The girl seemed quite devout... she may not

take kindly to him being magical.

"Well, there was this girl. A sweet little girl that got pulled into Black Lake by

these men that wanted to kill her. I don't know all the details, but it was a

longstanding blood feud sort of thing. Anyway, I tried to pull her out of the

lake, but before I could, one of the men ran his spear through both me and

her." The dead girl seemed quite interested in Harry's story so far.

"Luckily, someone I knew pulled the girl out and took her to get healed, but

I… well, as you can see I didn't quite make it back to shore."

"Black Lake? I'm not sure I've heard of that one. So. This little girl is still alive

then?"

"Yes. She's in that church right now. I wanted to go in with her, but… the

doors…" Harry looked back to the church and focused on his Little Angel.

Gabby was bored. Bored and fidgety.

"I….." The girl started, but seemed to have trouble getting her next line

out. "I was tried for heresy and burned. I believed with all my heart and soul

that I was a faithful servant of God. I don't understand why I'm still here.

Were they right?"

Harry looked back to his ghost companion to see fear and uncertainty

etched into her face. What could he say?

"I don't know. I wish I could help- and if I ever can, I will. Promise." Harry

brought out his best smile. "I feel like praying… perhaps if I pray for you

and you pray for me, our prayers will be answered one day."

Harry went down to his knees and brought his hands together just as he

saw the girl doing before. Suddenly, he realized just how impolite he'd

been so far.

"Pardon me for not introducing myself. My name is Harry and I'm very please

to meet you, Miss."

"Jeanne. My name is Jeanne. I'm pleased to meet you, Harry." Jeanne turned

to kneel next to Harry. With matching smiles, they both began to pray.

Twenty minutes later, Harry's prayers were interrupted by an angel.

"Harry!" Gabrielle was running right for him. Hermione had been held up

at the doors with her parents, but she was moving his way too. Harry

waved to both of his girls.

"Gabrielle! What has your mother told you about speaking to imaginary

friends in public?" Gabby ignored the brunette behind her until she was

toe to toe with Harry, the 'imaginary friend' in question.

"Don't scold her too much, 'Mione. I have my own 'imaginary friend' now.

Her name is Jeanne." Harry looked around for Jeanne, but she must have

left when he was distracted. "Funny, I didn't expect her to just leave

without saying goodbye."

"Maybe we scared her off. She was a ghost, wasn't she?" Hermione looked at

Gabby even though her questions were for Harry. She would not be

caught talking to empty air in the middle of this quaint little village.

Gabby, for her part, was content to sip from a water bottle and look

around. It really was a pretty day.

"Could be. And yes, she was dead. Oh! She couldn't get into the church

either. It's not just me, then. Pity. She wanted in much more than I did."

"Should I be jealous, Harry? Going to sneak off and snog a local girl when I'm

sleeping?" Hermione tried to look jealous, but the smile kind of gave her

away.

"Never! Jeanne's a nice and very religious girl! She was praying when I

met her. Why they burned her at the stake, I'll never know. Much too

nice a girl to deserve that kind of thing. Now Pansy Parkinson, on the

other hand…"

"Burned at the stake… witchcraft?" Hermione was trying to work

something out. Harry could tell.

"No. Heresy." He really did want to meet her again. Maybe coming back

on the occasional Sunday could be worked into his schedule.

"Just what did this Jeanne look like, Harry?" Fleur and the others had

come up behind Hermione. With this kind of group, it would be easier to

speak directly to him without getting the attention of strangers.

"She was shorter than me… not too much. Short dark hair. She was a

nice looking girl except for unflattering clothes." Harry thought back to

their little talk. What else could he say about her? "She's been dead for at

least a hundred years but probably a lot longer than that. When I told her

I got speared, she mentioned how long it's been since she's seen someone

get a spear to the chest before."

The older Delacours began to quickly pass an idea back and forth in half

whispers that Harry didn't completely catch. Hermione and her parents

were similarly confused.

"What? Was it something I said?" Harry hadn't been so obviously left out

of a Delacour family conversation since he got to France. It kind of hurt,

really.

"Oh no, dear." Apolline turned her attention to the rest of the group. "It's

just that we've heard of a ghost named Jeanne before. All French magicals

know of her, but she's really quite shy and skittish. It would make sense to see

here here."

"Really? So she's as popular as a Hogwarts ghost, then?" At Harry's

question, Alain laughed.

"No, Harry. Jeanne is much, much more famous than that. If you met who we

think you did, than you just met a patron saint of France." Alain's

declaration caused Hermione to gasp. She must have figured it out.

"Did you really just meet Jeanne of Arc?!" Hermione had trouble breathing.

She had seen another ghost next to Harry when Gabby started running,

but it… she… bolted as soon as Gabby yelled for Harry. Harry talked

Jeanne of Arc! Hermione saw Jeanne of Arc with her own eyes! This was

almost as big as when she learned that she was a witch! Why, it could be

bigger!

While Hermione was too frantic to see the connection, this was exactly

how some English magicals felt about seeing Harry Potter for the very

first time. She had just out-fangirled Romilda Vane.

So Jeanne was the local girl that became world famous battling the

English, huh? Harry saw part of a movie about her once. Vernon caught

him that time. Bad memories. Very bad memories.

"Well, maybe I'll see her again some time. You never know, eh?" Jeanne

looked like she could use a friend, and maybe some day he could help

her get in that church.

-o\O/o-

July 14th, 1995

"... and I officially sent my non-magical transcripts, Hogwarts grades and class

rankings as well as a personal letter stating my educational goals along with

the Very First Ever (Unofficial) Hogwarts transfer request... signed by my

parents... in triplicate."

Alain Delacour was having a rare Friday evening with his family and

guests at the family penthouse in the heart of Paris. He rarely got to

enjoy an evening listening to everyone gossip about their week as

magical French-English diplomacy had taken a rather harsh turn in the

past few weeks. Unfortunately for him, it was difficult to ignore the

increasingly angry English rhetoric aimed at his own Little Angel. Even

the revelation of Potter's Mark within the pages of the Daily Prophet was

twisted to be another Dark Mark. Never before had Alain considered the

near isolationist policies of his magical neighbors across the channel to

be a silver lining and not a cloud in his political dealings. God forbid a

similar incident happen with any of the continental magical powers.

"I can already tell you, Hermione, that many of my associates just down the

hall in the Department of Education are as pleased as our dear Headmistress

Maxime to see your paperwork submitted. With the baseless trash that passes

as news and radio fare back in London, few if any of our own Ministry's

employees are inclined to listen to Minister Fudge's demands to 'return

Ministry property' and to send you back to their loving embrace. Don't be

surprised to find yourself the lead story in The Mystic in a day or two."

Hermione blushed at the thought of two magical nations fighting over

her. Harry never got that kind of attention and he was the Boy-Who-

Lived. Sitting next to Hermione, Daniel and Emma were trying not to

react too much. They were both of the opinion that their daughter was

the most intelligent, most beautiful girl on Earth, magical or not... but

that didn't mean they were comfortable with her being an international

chew toy.

"And... and you're sure they won't try something underhanded? Like a portkey

or some such magical trap?" Daniel had to ask again. True, he'd heard the

answer before, but there's nothing like learning how easy it is for

Minister Fudge and his lackeys to lie, threaten and bribe their way

through life to make him fear for his daughter's safety.

Daniel was seated to Alain's left with Emma and Hermione. There was

one unused setting between Hermione and Apolline's seat at the other

end of the table. To Apolline's left, another unused setting was open

before Gabby and Fleur filled the last two seats on their father's right.

Segolene was home with her mother for the time being. Harry... well, he

tended to shift from one unused setting to the next depending on which

of his witches he wanted to sit next to.

"Fudge has no influence outside of England and Dumbledore is less influential

than he would like to think." Alain took another sip of his wine. "What few

illicit contacts the English keep in France are constantly monitored and

international traffic is tightly controlled. You have little to fear so long as you

remain our guests. You have my word."

"Maman, I have received a letter from Cedric. Despite prevailing sentiment in

his home country, he intends to travel through France in early August and

requests permission to visit." Fleur took her fathers words as an opportunity

to change subjects.

"And does Cedric intend to court you on this visit?" Apolline couldn't resist.

Her little babies were growing up!

"Does his father know about Cedric's plans? Mister Diggory is a Ministry

official... part of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical

Creatures if I remember correctly." Alain couldn't help but ask.

Alain knew that Fleur was in full bloom physically and fresh from her

N.E.W.T.s academically; she would be the target of much male adoration.

Too much, really. As a father, it made him cringe and yet it was with no

small amount of pride that he could admit to siring one of the most

desirable teenaged witches in France, if not Western Europe. He also

knew that there were those both in and out of Europe that considered his

wife and daughters to be sub-human. The elder Diggory's job at the

British Ministry of Magic was to regulate and control his women and

others like them who possess more magical blood than common witches

would have.

"Cedric mentioned that his father expects him to report back on the condition

of Hermione's 'imprisonment'. While Segolene was planning on modifying

Hermione's Hogwarts uniform to become neglige when she came back, -

(Hermione blushed deep at that revelation)- perhaps we should just cut it

up some and add dirt and food stains. If we are to sacrifice her soul to a

demon queen as the Prophet is currently proclaiming, then Mother's pure,

angelic slave should look the part of a sacrificial victim, no?"

"My vote's for the neglige." Harry wanted to see that. Harry also wanted to

see Hermione reproduce that look in the dreamworld later. Maybe Harry

could catch Hermione sleeping at some time or other when Gabby's up

and energetic. Brilliant.

Apolline and Fleur both began to laugh at how quickly Harry had cast his

vote. Alain maintained his composure. Gabby giggled in that 'I don't

know what's funny' way young children have when they completely miss

the grown-up joke that must be funny for everyone else to laugh.

Hermione's face burned hot enough to fry eggs on and her parents were

feeling a little left out. As non-magical people, they still couldn't see or

hear Harry unless he was in a wizarding photo. Zoé had taken it upon

herself to correct this problem by following the Grangers and taking

wizarding photos any time Hermione or her parents were in a good pose

with Harry. Emma and Daniel were both impressed and disturbed that

proof of an unseen, unheard boy was so easy to come by.

As Hermione quietly explained the joke to her parents, Alain chose to

address the real issue. "So long as the young man is willing to swear an oath

that he report back honestly... and treat you with respect... then I see no

problem with hosting him for a week. Will that be sufficient, Princess?"

"Thank you, Papa. I will send a reply." Fleur blushed, not from her father's

approval of Cedric but of his use of her childhood nickname. She silently

resolved to continue calling Gabrielle 'Little Angel' for at least three more

decades.

"How is your former professor doing, Hermione? You've been keeping up with

Professor McGonagall, haven't you?" Hermione started at Apolline's

question, explanations about her dead boyfriend's opinion on the dirty

school girl look versus the submissive victim look were thankfully

derailed en mass.

"Oh, she's doing very well! I just go a new letter in the other day. At first, she

was a little disheartened to find that neither Beauxbatons nor Salem had

openings for a Transfiguration Master, even one of her caliber. Apparently

she's found a promising tutoring job here in France, one that may last long

enough for her to wait out the Beauxbatons Professor who's rumored to be

retiring soon." This was a subject Hermione could really sink her teeth

into. In a year or two, she may actually get to study under her former

Head of House again!

While Hermione's focus began to drift, Apolline winked at her youngest.

Gabby smiled brilliantly and winked back to her mother in a highly over

exaggerated way. Hermione was the only one at the table that missed her

gesture.

"Speaking of tutors," Apolline took control of the discussion again, "Alain

and I have agreed to hire a tutor for Gabrielle to start some of the wand arts a

little early."

This got everyone's attention. Apolline may look less than half her

husband's age (much less than half if you asked any of the Grangers) but

she was the undisputed queen of the dinner table's social schedule.

"We are concerned that Little Angel's uncommon ability with Harry's wand

could lead to trouble later on if she doesn't learn good wand discipline soon.

Hermione?"

The English witch looked to Apolline. "Yes, Auntie Apolline?"

"While our intent is to help Gabrielle first and foremost, the witch I am

interviewing Monday morning has time and energy enough for several

students."

Gabrielle was vibrating, near exploding with excitement. Fleur smiled but

was otherwise well composed. Hermione still didn't know the Delacour

girls close enough to better read their reactions and merely thought they

were excited about the tutor. In a way, they were.

Hermione thanked God for France's less restrictive under-aged magic use

laws. Unsupervised magic was still illegal before O.W.L.s, but proper

lessons were allowed. She couldn't think of a single Weasley that would

be visibly excited by the thought of a summer tutor though. To be fair,

Ginny may have been willing to have summer lessons at the Burrow and

at least one of the older boys took interest in a Mastery... but to actually

seem excited at a tutor's arrival? The twins might pretend to be excited

just to mess with Ron.

"Thank you, Auntie." Hermione and Harry smiled at each other. Even with

a few clouds on the horizon, the future was still looking bright.

-o\O/o-

July 15th, 1995

"Alain?" Hermione's parents had been looking for a chance to speak with

their host without the children around for quite some time. Tonight all

four of the younger residents, ghost included, were having movie night.

Willow was nearly over and cassettes for both Ghost and Forrest Gump

were sitting by the VHS player. Gabrielle was getting drowsy already.

"Emma. Daniel. What can I do for you?" Alain was reclining on a balcony

overlooking the Eiffel tower, a brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the

other.

POP

Virginie, Zoé's cousin, popped onto the balcony and offered the elder

Grangers a selection of drinks and tobaccos to chose from. Emma chose

to go without while her husband partook of the proffered Scotch.

"What haven't you done for us would be a better summation of the past

week." Daniel started.

"I want you to know that we are very thankful for the help you've

provided us-" He motioned between himself and Emma, who nodded in

support. "-especially in the protection given to our daughter. I used to

think that as a former military officer I would be able to protect

Hermione from anything life could throw at her. That feeling of security

ended on her eleventh birthday."

Daniel took a stiff shot of his scotch before continuing on. Alain and

Emma both stayed quiet as not to break his train of thought.

"More than once we've come close to pulling Hermione out of Hogwarts.

Two years ago we even went so far as to request copies of withdrawal

forms from the Ministry, only to have a rather rude letter returned by

owl stating that we could withdraw our daughter, but only if we were

willing to have her magic bound and all knowledge of the magical world

erased from the three of us.

"We couldn't take magic away from Hermione... she wanted it more than

anything and to hell with the trolls and magical illnesses. Check that,

giant snakes. Wasn't a 'magical illness' at all... but I digress. The point is

that it's about time we started paying you and your family back for your

help."

Alain smiled.

"Your daughter is a wonderful young lady and it is my honor and

pleasure to support her, and her equally exceptional parents, in their time

of need. You are guests of the Delacours and as my guests you will not

pay one franc or pound or galleon for anything I have to offer."

"At least let us pay for her summer lessons." Emma blurted out the very

thing she and her husband had agreed on as soon as they heard the word

tutor.

Alain laughed.

Daniel and Emma both looked at each other confused. Their host would

never intentionally insult them, so this must be something else. With

their unvoiced conversation over in a fraction of a second, they both

turned back to Alain and waited for his explanation.

"... ha-ha... hmmmmm. Please excuse me. Ohhhhh, I hope you do not

take offense, but your daughter has already brought up the issue of

repayment for any lessons she may take." Alain brought up his cigarette

and took a deep breath. "I'm guessing that Hermione has not shown the

two of you her Gringotts ledger, has she?"

Both Grangers shook their heads. They were curious but also knew that

Hermione had her reasons for putting it off.

"Just this morning, she and Harry cornered me in my study. The two of

them knew that Hermione had money in Gringotts, but neither of them

had much experience with magical estates or goblin bookkeeping. Believe

me, these are not areas to be left to amateurs."

"So they wanted to pay but didn't know for sure if they could?" Emma

was surprised. There must be something special about Goblin

bookkeeping if Hermoine couldn't crack the code.

"You could say that." Alain forced down his amusement. Finance should

be dealt with seriously. "Shortly after our announcement about the

tutoring, Hermione finally had a real reason to open her ledger rather

than hide it. I'm told Harry was suddenly quite curious to know how

much he was worth. For whatever reason, nobody ever told him what to

expect. At the very least, Dumbledore should have... but it's too late for

that isn't it? Anyway, Hermione very quickly discovered two problems.

"First, she didn't know what the current conversion rates were. I told her

that the exchange rate varies drastically from bank to bank and from

country to country and that The Mystic would have a current quote in

the last edition. Her follow up question was about accessing her vault, as

it was in London. While this would be a problem if she wanted to... say...

invest in a business or buy real estate, anything less is easily handled by

bank transfers."

"So our daughter can pay for the lessons, then?" Daniel was ready to pick

up another drink. He hated talking finance.

"Quite easily. Perhaps a bit of background is in order. You see, I knew a

little about the Potters due to my work, but watching a strange boy die

for my little girl made me want to learn all I could of this Boy-Who-

Lived. While the Potter name doesn't carry the weight it once did, Harry

was the last blood descendant of a very old magical line. Unfortunately,

the men of the line were historically known for volunteering when they

heard the Call to Arms and the Potter name eroded slowly one war at a

time. I heard your daughter mention on more than one occasion that

Harry had... still has... a 'saving people thing'. It seems to be the defining

trait in all Potters. While quite noble, this means that the Potters did not

amass vast fortunes."

"So she'll go through Harry's money quickly if we don't place some

restrictions? I'm sure she would still consider summer tutoring a worthy

investment." Emma was right for the most part.

"I agree that tutoring is a wise investment, but Hermione would likely

need Fleur's help to burn through that much money quickly. I only had a

few minutes to read over her ledger, but I expect that Hermione could

buy your home in England and the penthouse we are currently residing

in at the same time and still have a small cushion to live on for a few

years. She also owns a few dozen acres in Wales. Her land in Godric's

Hollow is the traditional Potter homestead."

Emma and Daniel remained quiet. This was a lot to take in at one time.

Considering the location and view of this City of Light penthouse, it was

possible that Hermione was worth more than they were.

-o\O/o-

July 17th, 1995

Gabby's room in their family penthouse in Paris was nothing like

Hermione thought it would be. She expected to see wall to wall stuffed

animals and tea sets but instead found a studio of the arts. Violins and a

viola occupied one corner next to a music stand. Ballet slippers, leotards

and tutus were hanging in the eight year old's closet. Two easels were set

up near a window with eastern exposure. Paint stains seemed to dot the

room in defiance of the Delacour family elves. The girl in question could

be heard singing on the other side of a richly stained door. She was

supposed to be brushing her teeth.

"Zoé." Fleur called from beside her English friend.

POP

"Mistress calls for Zoé? I am here to serve." Zoé curtseyed before the

witches.

"Please lay out one of Gabrielle's school uniforms. She will be taking wand

lessons today."

"Zoe will do as Mistress asks of her."

"Perhaps you should make her uniform fireproof." Fleur added almost as an

afterthought. Hermione had heard of some incident involving fire at

Fleur's first charms lesson, but the Veela simply refused to answer any

follow up questions.

"I will also let out the hem. Young Mistress Gabrielle is getting taller this

summer."

"Thank you Zoé."

POP

Hermione was pleased to see her friend act polite to Zoé. While the

Delacour family house elves were still clearly servants, they were given

respect and gratitude for all their work. Perhaps if Hermione were subtle

about the question...

"Why does your family own slaves?" Perhaps Hermione should research the

meaning of the word subtle or get off of her pulpit before trying to be

subtle...

Many would have reacted poorly to Hermione's questions. Fleur had been

expecting this question ever since she discovered Hermione would be

fleeing England.

"We have elves bound to our family, this is true. We do not have slaves."

"Do you pay Zoé and Virginie wages?"

"Of course not."

"But they serve your house?"

"Yes."

"They're slaves!" Hermione was quite comfortable on her pulpit. Subtlety

could be ignored for now.

"Hermione, there is more to house elves than you know. But don't take my

word for it. Zoé?"

POP

"Mistress calls for Zoé?" The petit elf popped in and asked her question

without stopping her chore. Little hands were jerking back and forth in a

blur as the hem to Gabby's light blue school uniform skirt was let out a

centimeter or three.

"She calls you Mistress and obeys your commands without pay. How is that

not slavery?"

"Zoé. Please explain our relationship to Miss Granger."

The elf in question didn't even pause in her needlework to answer. Young

Mistress Gabrielle was going to need her skirt soon.

"Elves like Zoé be needing witches and wizards to live, Mistress Granger. We

cannot live without their magic."

"That's just what they want you to think. Dobby was freed from the Malfoy's

and is living just fine."

"No, Mistress Granger. You not knowing how elf magic works. Witches like

Mistress Fleur be having a magical core. Elves like Zoé be not having one. I be

needing magic of others."

"Wh- what?" Hermione never heard this before. Why hadn't she ever

heard this before?

"Long ago... too long to be remembering when... elves be losing their magic and

be close to dieing off. Elves that be living with wizard kind be staying living

while whole villages of elves in forests be lost forever. Elves be finding that

healthiest of them all are ones who serve wizard families as maids and butlers.

Why? Elves thinking it be magic is given in orders and work. Big wizard family

meaning much magic to give to elves. Wizard schools be having lots of elves

because hallways and dormitories and classrooms be glowing with magic for

elves to be using." Just another four hundred and thirty-six stitches left and

Gabby's skirt would be ready.

Hermione was shocked. No one had ever bothered to explain house elves

to her before and the Hogwarts Library was only good for identifying

magical creatures, not explaining their origins. Was this the kind of

knowledge that pureblood magicals were taught in early childhood?

"S- so... your an energy vampire?"

"Zoé not being a vampire, Mistress Granger. Zoé not being making wizards into

elves with bites." Two hundred and eighty-seven stitches remaining.

"I'm sorry, Zoé. That's not what I meant. I meant that you need to get your

magic from another living thing. Couldn't English elves just live in the

Forbidden Forest with all of the other magical creatures?"

"No, Mistress Granger. Elves cannot be taking magic from other creatures

because creatures be not giving it away. Wizards be using magic in spells and

wands and enchantments and be always making more magic in their cores.

Wizard kind is being only hope for elves to live."

"Dobby is alive after being given clothes. Harry freed Dobby. Why isn't he

dead?" Hermione didn't want to believe what she heard.

Was evolution responsible for creating a slave race? Was a sickness that

only affected elven kind responsible? Hermione had heard of several

magical illnesses that could turn wizards into squibs if left untreated.

Perhaps this was similar?

"Where is Dobby being now?" Twelve stitches left... and... done!

"Dobby is-"

POP

"Dobby is here! Does Harry Potter's Missy Granger need Dobby?"

"Good morning, Dobby. I was just discussing house elves and why they

serve wizarding families with Fleur and Zoé, here. Can you tell me how it

is that you are still alive if you were freed from the Malfoys?" Hermione

knew that this would be her only chance to rally. If she could just get

Dobby to deny one small part of Zoé's explanation, then she could claim

it's all just propaganda.

"Oh, yes! Dobby is free of the Evil Malfoys! Dobby hates Malfoys but

Dobby loves the Great Harry Potter Sir and the Great Harry Potter's Missy

Granger and the Great Harry Potter's school Hoggy Warts and Dobby be

doing much work keeping the Great Harry Potter's school clean and the

students happy! Dobby is a good elf!"

"Zoé be thinking Dobby be too loud! Dobby being quiet for Mistress Fleur

and Mistress Hermione." Dobby immediately nodded and brought himself

under control. "Zoé is being finished with Young Mistress Gabrielle's skirt.

May Zoé be excused?"

"Yes. Thank you, Zoé." Fleur addressed the little elf who seemed to be

doing quite well in her lecture to Hermione before Dobby interrupted.

POP

"And thank you, Dobby. You are a good friend." Hermione thought about

Dobby's long trip from Hogwarts or wherever he had been before getting

summoned. "I don't really have anything for you to do, so if you wanted

to return to... whatever it was that you were doing, then you can."

"And... what if... what if Dobby wanted to stay?"

He really did look pitiful. When did he learn how to do the 'sad puppy'

look? Hermione wanted to say he could stay, but really it wasn't her

decision to make. Luckily, there was someone in the room who could

make that decision.

"Dobby?" Fleur spoke up.

"Yes, Missy Flower? What can Dobby do for you?" The little elf was

smiling. It was obvious that he'd rather stay with them near 'The Great

Harry Potter Sir', at least for a little while.

"Could you find Harry for us? Our guest is supposed to arrive soon."

"Dobby will find the Great Harry Potter Sir for Missy Flower."

POP

As potential students finished getting ready, Apolline watched the flames

in her foyer fireplace turn green. The flames peaked for a moment as the

figure of a witch entered Paris from the UK.

-knock, knock-

"Gabby? Are you decent?" On the other side of her bathroom door,

Hermione heard giggling. "We're coming in."

Fleur opened the door to her sister's private bathrooms and stopped dead

at the spectacle before her. Hermione was about to step around her until

she too saw what was happening and froze.

Gabrielle was mostly dressed, but she was still without shoes and her hat.

That wasn't the problem. Gabrielle was giggling madly and twirling about

in her stockings. That wasn't what Fleur wanted to see, but it still wasn't

the problem.

"Gabrielle..." "Dobby..." Fleur and Hermione shouted together. "STOP!"

Gabrielle froze in place and her eyes widened into an 'I'm in trouble' look.

Dobby froze, and in doing so froze the two magical rivers of water

spewing out of Gabby's personal sinks. The immobile water etched two

spiral paths around Gabby and seemed to dip and bob from only a few

centimeters above the tile floor to a few centimeters from the ceiling. By

some miracle, the floor was still dry. On closer inspection, Hermione

noticed that both airborn rivers seemed to be anchored to a floor drain in

the center of the room.

The silent tableau was only broken when a ghost pulled himself out from

inside one of the faucets to see why all the fun stopped.

"Dobby? Is there someth- uh, oh... Good morning, 'Mione. Morning,

Fleur." Harry used his best innocent schoolboy look.

"Harry Potter! What have you been doing?!" Oh, dear. Hermione was not

happy. "Gabrielle needs to be ready to meet the tutor any minute now

and she's not ready. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Dobby, Harry and Gabby all looked at each other for a few seconds

before Harry started snickering. Gabby relaxed from her pirouette and

began to giggle again. Dobby smirked and banished all of the water into

a large bathtub along the far wall.

"Play time is over, Little Angel. Get your shoes on." Fleur had her arms

crossed and was tapping her foot, but a smile was threatening to force it's

way onto her face. The mess wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

Harry looked over to see that Hermione was the only one that was still

upset.

"I'm sorry 'Mione, but Gabby wanted to see a trick and I just figured out

how Myrtle messes with the pipes back at Hogwarts. Dobby was here to

keep her from getting messy the whole time."

As Harry tried to calm Hermione down, Gabby slipped both shoes on and

began to pull her hair into a tail. Fleur silently came behind her and

performed a quick braid charm and added a silk ribbon bow at the end.

"All she needs is her hat, see?"

And seconds later, Gabby was fully dressed.

POP

"Lady Apolline be wanting you all in the sitting room. We be having a

guest."

"Thank you, Virginie." Fleur dismissed the elf. Noting that Hermione was

still giving Harry the evil eye, she chose to come to his rescue by them all

to her mother. "Come on. We're done here."

As the others filed out of Gabrielle's bathroom, Virginie began to clean up

the sinks and Gabby's discarded clothes from earlier. Fleur led them

through a few rooms and halls until they could hear Apolline speaking to

the as yet unseen tutor.

"... well I'm sure that I won't be able to find a more qualified person to help

Little Angel no matter how far I look."

Fleur stopped at the last door opening and held her hand out to keep the

others from entering the sitting room. Her mother saw Fleur decided that

introductions were in order. Or perhaps reintroductions would be a better

term. Apolline nodded to her eldest, giving Fleur the okay to enter.

"Good morning Professor. It's so good to see you again." Fleur curtseyed

before their guest prompting Gabrielle to do the same.

"Good morning Professor." Hermione turned the corner just ahead of Harry

as Gabrielle was in the middle of her curtsey.

"Good morn- Oh! P-Professor McGonagall! What are you doing in Paris?!"

Hermione stopped short of her planned curtsey causing Harry to

accidentally pass through the girl. He was too busy gaping at his former

Head of House to stop.

"Oh, lass. You don't know how happy I am to see the lot of you. And to

see you so happy and healthy as well! Let me have a look at you."

Minerva stepped up to the fifteen year old ex-Gryffindor and braced

herself as her favorite student in years slammed into her and began to cry

her eyes out. The ladies Delacour all quietly moved to the side as if they

all knew this would happen... which they did.

Following Gabby, Harry turned to Apolline and whispered, "You are

hiring her, right?"

Apolline nodded quickly.

Everything was going to be okay.

-o\O/o-

Calais.

A man and his dog stepped off of the ferry from Dover, conveniently side

stepping the non-magical officials by means of notice-me-not charms.

These charms did nothing to keep four aurors in navy blue cloaks from

surrounding the pair in a loose ring, wands out.

"I'm afraid, Sir, that you forgot a few important steps that are necessary

for international travel." The lead auror held this Englishman's attention

while his fellow aurors got ready to cast.

Remus Lupin held his empty hands out to either side in as nonthreatening

a posture as a werewolf could manage.

"I'm sorry about that, but we really don't want to go back if we can help

it. Would it be possible to tell Alain Delacour that Harry Potter's

godfather wants to talk to him?"

"Are you telling me that you are Harry Potter's godfather?" The lead

auror looked at one of his men behind the stranger. Wands were raised.

"No, he is." Remus looked at the dog.

Not liking this plan, but unable to come up with a better one, Sirius Black

reverted to human form. At least the French were likely to imprison him

here rather than send him back to England with all the bad blood

between their magical ministries.

Four silent stupefies were cast by the ring of French aurors.

After a brief surge of red light, darkness took both Moony and Padfoot.

End Chapter

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Five: So, a lot of you chimed in about

Maxime chopping up Dumbledore's name as being intentional. I figure

you're right and I was too dense to see it the first time.

If you still have questions about animancora, and Lily's short lived one in

particular, well, I'm not sure I can do better than to ask you to re-read the

Prologue. No, Lily does not come back. She missed that boat.

BloodySeraphim – I did say that Harry will try to push Hermione to find

love among the living, but he isn't ready for that yet and I also said

Hermione may resist his best efforts. As things now stand, we have an

innocent version of the HP/HG/GD triangle. Love is clear for all to see

even if it is not tainted by desire. Okay, maybe it's a little tainted on one

side of the triangle...

Sir Trib The Bold – Even in cannon, The Prophet has been a paper of

dubious value from the very beginning. The wizarding public has been

proven time and time again to be very susceptible to what they read in

the Prophet too. I was about to continue this response but realized I don't

want to write an essay on why Dumbles is an ass tonight. Sorry.

jay21317 – I did correct Cedric's age but I will not be revising my stand

on NEWTs. After the tournament, Harry still had to take his OWLs next

year and we all infer that he would have gone back for his NEWTs after

Snakeface bought it. Why let Krum and Delacour get out of the NEWTs if

Harry gets no such golden ticket? My answer is to make them all take the

tests. Let them out of normal end of year testing, but keep the

international standards in place.

Dracco – I am going with the assumption that what slander laws Magical

England has are weak or otherwise easy to slip by with the right bribe,

and right now the whole of the Ministry of Magic is against our heroines.

deitarion/SSokolow – Usually stories tend to have Minnie take Albus's

job rather than leave outright. She is very dedicated to the children, but I

think that seeing Albus keep Snape after she made her emotional threat

would be a hard blow to take. She isn't really protecting the students as

much as she thought she was. Her only option is to find children she can

help and start over.

So you want to be an Author – Segolene Royal is in there not so much

due to me, but due to the fact that Segolene was one name my wife

remembered from her time in French class and working as a nanny to a

Parisian family that relocated to Valdosta, Georgia for some horrible

reason. Really, why would you do that? I also plan to sneak other actual

French people into the story on occasion. Alizee must be a Veela. Really.

She must be. Did you know that Sohpia Loren became a French citizen?

Italian or French, she's got to be another Veela.

brigrove – The French are protecting the Grangers if you consider Alain

as doing things on behalf of his country. If there is a real snatch and grab

attempt, then French aurors would be there in seconds flat just like they

would if the target were Alain himself. Dumbles certainly lost most of the

respect Hermione had for him, but she left before she could equate him

with Fudge and Umbridge. Cedric is a good guy, but he knows that any

noble actions on his part could reflect poorly on his dad. He'll just be a

little sneaky about it.

damon blade – I'm not saying that it's guaranteed to happen, but they

did just watch the movie Ghost, so the idea of a possession based snog

may come up. Harry has only just begun to experiment with his spectral

limits.

ryuou – That depends on your definition of real/actual love. I really

actually love my children and I have since before each of them was born,

but I suspect you mean marriage/mating love and not pure innocent love.

Even in their dreams, Harry and Hermione could be years away from

actually shagging. And that's why he will start to feel inadequate as the

eternal fourteen year old boy. Gabrielle is MANY years away from that.

I'm not a pedophile and this story will not feature pedophelia.

Memories-of-the-Shadows – When he died, Harry gave Gabby

everything he had. Everything. That snake faced bastard better stay away

for his own good. But when was he ever smart like that?

whimsy007 – Things will change, but you are going to have to wait for

the magical schools to open their doors again for all of the changes to be

visible.

8. Playing With Fire

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Seven: Playing With Fire

"So," Minerva McGonagall called out to the room in general, "are we

ready to begin?"

Gabrielle nodded like a house elf. This was so exciting! She was going to

get to use her Harry wand and do magic on purpose and everything!

The little silver-blonde tressed Veela was being very proper and good and

quiet even after Hermione stopped crying on her favorite instructor. Yes,

she wanted with every fiber of her being to pull Hermione off of the old

lady and get started, but Momma taught her better than that a long time

ago. After holding onto each other for forever, Hermione and the old lady

backed off and talked some before finally getting back to what really

mattered this morning… Gabby! That's when the Transfiguration Mistress

addressed her question to the room at large.

Minerva smiled briefly at Gabby's enthusiasm before letting her

professional control reassert itself.

Ooooh! Now she looked all stern just like Fleur's professors... the ones

Gabby's met in the past. She began to wonder why no one ever seemed

happy to teach magic. Gabby promised herself that if she ever taught

magic then she would smile in every class. How could it not be the

funnest thing ever?

Gabby looked around to make sure Momma and Fleur and Hermione and

Harry were all watching like she wanted them too.

"Very well. I believe that this young lady standing before me couldn't

possibly wait any longer to start. Could you dear?" Gabby violently shook

her head at Minerva who allowed another brief smile to show before her

control re-asserted itself.

"Magic is a wonderful thing, Miss Delacour. It makes us who we are and

shapes the world around us. But we must have respect for magic. Me

must maintain control over it. If we do not have respect and control over

our magic, it can hurt us."

Gabby nodded her head dutifully. Grownups always said things like that

even though she and Aimee and Gigi never figured out what they meant.

Whatever.

Her new tutor turned to Momma and asked a question, "Is this the room

lessons are to be taught in?"

"Yes, Misses McGonagall." Apolline looked around the room at the

furniture and decorations, "Everything here has been either protected or

deemed expendable. Do not worry if a mess is made."

"Thank you, Madame Delacour." Minerva continued, "May I have

Gabrielle's wand?"

"Of course." Apolline moved to a small jewelry box at one end of the

room and removed Gabby's Harry wand. The new student's nervous

excitement spiked yet again. "The chain is spelled to hold the wand close

to Gabby's breast when out of hand and to stretch a full arms-length

when she picks it up. This wand has become Gabrielle's most treasured

possession and her favorite necklace."

Apolline then placed the very familiar wand in Misses McGonagall's

hands. Were they trembling? "It still feels like Harry. How wonderful."

Minerva may have made a sniffling sound of some sort but no one chose

to point it out to her. Harry looked away for a moment, seemingly trying

to get something out of his eye.

"This is a special wand, young lady, and if you take good care of it, it will

do great things for you. I'm sure of that."

"Oui, Mada- I mean... Yes, Mam."

As Mrs. McGonagall placed the Harry wand over Gabby's head, the little

girl rose up as far as her spotless white trainers would allow. Pity she

wasn't wearing ballet slippers or Gabby would've gone up on point for it.

"I am told that Veela tend to start learning fire spells before others as a

way to aid in controlling their natural talents with the element…" The ex-

Deputy Headmistress looked once more to Apolline, who nodded. Fleur

was nodding her head very vigorously off to the side. "…therefore I shall

begin with lighting candles rather than Lumos."

Minerva wordlessly transfigured some loose paper on a coffee table into a

line of unlit candles in candlesticks. Minerva then made sure that she was

off to one side of the coffee table as to best judge Gabrielle's technique.

"Miss Delacour, first I shall ask you to repeat the incantation: ingnis

candesco."

"Ignis candeso." Gabrielle may have been excited enough to set the

candles ablaze with accidental magic alone, but she desperately wanted

to do this very grown up thing.

"Very good pronunciation, dear. Please say it one more time."

"Ignis candesco!" Gabby's family could almost hear the pride in her voice.

"Your pronunciation is flawless. Now for the next part. Please raise your

wand and point loosely at the table." Gabby's hand practically teleported

into position, somehow gaining a wand in the process. Big Sister Fleur

snorted trying to bite back her laughter.

Gabby momentarily broke from her Perfect Angel act to give her sister a

wet raspberry before turning back again.

"If you ladies are quite finished, I should like to see you gently flick your

wand upwards as though you are showing the fire that it should come up

from the wick. I shall demonstrate." Minerva demonstrated her flick three

times, during which the end of her wand never traveled more than a few

centimeters in any direction.

Gabby tried to pay close attention. Music lessons came to mind... always

pressing the key or twisting the bow or plucking the string just so had

become a minor religion to the girl. Why, Little Angel was the darling of

Joliebatons Academie's performing arts program long before she became

famous as the Girl-Who-Lived.

Gabby took a deep cleansing breath, made her 'I'm concentrating' face

and practiced the movement three times.

"Very good, Miss Delacour. Were we in a Hogwarts classroom, you would

have just earned ten points for your house." Gabby's smile went

incandescent and her cheeks were flushed. Ohhhhh, she just loved

compliments from professors!

"Now we shall try and join the two pieces, but a spell is not just some

words and a flick... Mister Potter?" Harry seemed surprised to be called

out, but he was in a room without snake or Snape, surely this would turn

out well. "Can you tell me what we are missing? What causes the flame to

burn or the patronus to charge?"

"Errr..." Harry stalled long enough for Hermione to show her 'Oh,

honestly, Harry' face. "Intent? Intent! You have to want the flames to rise

and all."

"Correct Mister Potter. You see Miss Delacour? Intent. You have to want

the candle to come alight, just as Mister Potter said."

Gabby's head bounced up and down rapidly, just as before. She wanted it

alright. She wanted it more than anything.

"May I try the spell now, Misses McGonagall?" Gabrielle was tracing a

line on the floor with the toe of her right shoe as she adopted her best

innocent angel face and added a bit of puppydog eyes.

Minerva had seen some real charmers pass through the halls of Hogwarts

in her time so she knew exactly what Gabby was doing. Her heart was

still pierced all the same. Thank Circe the Weasley twins never figured

out how to do that face.

"Please do, dear."

Gabby snapped into a stance that she's seen her sister practice on

countless occasions over the years. Taking a deep breath, she slowly

closed her eyes and mentally reviewed the incantation along with the

wand flick. When she opened her eyes, she wanted it. She really, really

wanted it.

"Ignis candeso."

Her pronunciation was flawless. Her flick was well timed and went just

so. She wanted it badly... and she was Veela...

-FWOOOSH-

The entire coffee table was engulfed in blue-white flames.

"Eeeeeek!" Too much! Too much! Too much!

"STOP!" Gabby jabbed her wand at the flaming table before either of the

adults present could so much as move to correct things. Panic fueled

instinct shaped both her actions and intent.

The fire stopped.

The flames didn't go away. Light and heat didn't fade. They didn't move.

They stopped.

Gabrielle dropped her wand and spun around to hide her face behind

shaking hands. As Apolline and Minerva tried and failed to banish or

suppress the trapped fire behind her, Gabby began to feel hot tears drop

from cheek to palm.

What did she do wrong?! It was SO unfair! And Momma saw and Fleur

saw and Hermione saw and Harry... oh! Harry saw her mess up! Surely

Misses McGonagall would go away and the lessons would stop and Gabby

would be soooooo sad. Fleur leapt to her sister's side and began to

whisper into her ear as a low moan escaped Gabby's throat.

"It's alright Little Angel... Big Sissy Flower's going to make it all better...

Momma and Auntie McGonagall will make the fire go away and then you'll

get to try again..." Gabby wanted to say her big sister was wrong and that

Fleur was talking to her like she was a little baby but those fingers

running up and down her back felt really good.

Big Sissy Flower smiled into her Little Angel's hair. Fireproofing the

uniform was a good idea.

"Well, I thought you were brilliant, Gabby." Harry liked her magic? She

didn't do bad? Maybe she could stop sniffling, then.

"R-really? I- I didn't do bad?"

"Really. Why, the first time I ever tried to do magic, couldn't get my

feather to so much as twitch... never mind the floating about Professor

Flitwick was aiming for. And that's with the same wand you've got

dangling about your neck. Since you did too much, that must mean

you're loads more powerful than I was. Right?"

Gabby looked up from her sister's tight embrace to see the warm smile of

her favoritest ghost ever... even better than Jeanne.

"I'm... I'm stronger than you? But... but Hermione said you're really strong.

You chased away a big cloud of monsters the year before."

"I don't know. Some people say I had lots of magic and I suppose it's

true... but I never made fire stop like what you just did! Why, you told it

to stop and it stopped like a good doggy! Next, you'll be teaching the fire

tricks." Fleur's fingers worked one kind of magic on sad little Gabby while

Harry's praise worked another. Slowly, Little Angel began to calm down.

After another five minutes of soft compliments and gentle back rubs,

Gabby was ready to try lighting just one candle again. Ten minutes later,

Minerva and Apolline successfully disenchanted Gabby's frozen fire and

reset the table. Hermione learned more about magic in those fifteen

minutes than she had in any single class at Hogwarts. This was going to

be brilliant!

-o\O/o-

Alain Algernon Delacour sat at his richly stained, well polished and

perfectly organized desk deep within the French Ministry of Magic's

Department of the Interior. In fact, he was seated in the Department

Head's office as he was that Department Head.

The husband and father of Veela relaxed for a moment as one of his

subordinates delivered another report on steadily shrinking merman

populations dotting the Mediterranean coast. At least now the population

reductions were voluntary. Perhaps in a year or two his aurors would

stop finding injured or dead mermen lying on French shores... not to

mention the occasional hexed Englishman in need of medical attention

and a hangover cure. Thank Jeanne the unpleasantness has yet to infect

non-magical relations between their two countries.

It was near the young inspector's final summary that Alain picked up a

report from the other day in Calais. His work day would finally become

interesting.

"Inspector Clouseau."

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you know of the incident in Calais yesterday?" Alain lowered the

report and turned it around for Clouseau to see. The young man who

graduated from a post-N.E.W.T. Civil Service program only two years ago

picked up the report but barely glanced at it. He had nearly memorized it

before entering Alain's office.

"Foreign Affairs has the two Englishmen in questioning right now, Sir. They

were understandably surprised to catch such a well known criminal as Black

so easily. Rumor has it that the questioning is going completely against what

we thought we were going to get. Monsieur Depaul has made no moves

towards alerting the English that we even have Black."

Alain placed a finger on the Department Seal inscribed into the surface of

his desk as part of the Ministry's internal communications system.

"Guillimette."

A soft yet professional witch's voice returned his call. "Yes, Monsieur

Delacour?"

"Please inform Monsieur Depaul in Foreign Affairs that I wish to speak with

him at his earliest convenience. You can reschedule any of my appointments

for today or tomorrow as necessary."

"Yes, Monsieur Delacour." Alain removed his finger from the magical

intercom and leaned back into his chair. As Inspector Clouseau continued

his report on the morning's hot topics, Alain contemplated the stories

Hermione and Harry have both been telling for weeks. If they were true

(Hermione and Harry have been nothing but honest so far), and if his

aurors really had Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, then his home life and

France's relationship with Minister Fudge were both going to be shaken

up yet again. Some days it just doesn't pay to remain sober.

-o\O/o-

"Pardon me, sir?" Hermione pulled her eyes away from the

transfiguration tome Minerva had left behind for her new student and

looked up at her host.

"Where are my manners? Please excuse the interruption. Fleur can get

lost in a book just as easily as you, so I am used to repeating myself."

Alain drew closer to the ex-Gryffindor and her parents who were relaxing

in the Delacour beach side condominium Emma and Daniel chose to

spend their holiday in.

"As I was saying to your parents, we have an opportunity to do a bit of

travel a few days from now… to Switzerland. There will be an

International Confederation of Wizards meeting in Bern on the 21st and

our presence has been requested by the committee in charge."

"Are they finally doing something about the Third Task? How about the

slanderous rubbish that the Daily Prophet continues to spout about us?"

Emma was beginning to fear returning to England now that the paper has

built their daughter into an icon in Magical England's deluded world

view. Speculation on whether Harry Potter could have rescued her were

he still alive has been competing with supposition as to how she could

repay whichever fine pureblood Lord succeeds in saving her. Of course,

as a mere muggleborn, marriage into a pureblood line is too good for her

but no one seems to think Hermione's chastity will be important after her

rescue.

"Sadly the I.C.W.'s investigation into the Third Task has run its course.

Neither the English Ministry nor Dumbledore are willing to release any

information which would help explain who the abductor was or why he

acted. I can't imagine what's worse… that it could be incompetence on

the part of their aurors or a cover-up.

"As for your second question, the I.C.W. does not have authority in cases

of slander… all we can do is fine or disrupt the local distribution for

slights on my family. I dare say there are no English magical barristers

who would consider taking the Prophet to court on your behalf as they

tend to ignore the rights of non-magical citizens at every opportunity.

"No, this is about two Englishmen who were detained at Calais recently.

French aurors recently picked up a man who is wanted for terrible crimes

back in his home country. Due to political concerns, he will be

questioned by an I.C.W panel to determine the his future. I and my

family must attend as we are indirectly involved. Hermione must attend

as she is directly implicated in some of his claims. Emma, Daniel... I'm

guessing you do not want your daughter to see Switzerland without you?"

Excitement quickly replaced curiosity on Hermione's face as the list of

dangerous criminals she had personal contact with was extremely short.

"You mean Sirius, don't you? He got out of England? How wonderful!"

"What are you talking about young lady? Sirius Black is a deadly

criminal. Wait... how does a deranged killer know my little girl?" Alain

was surprised at Daniel's reaction.

"Oh! I haven't told you about Third Year have I, Dad? Mum?" All

Hermione got was two frightened and confused looks in return.

"I'm sorry Dad, but it looks like I've still left out a few things about

Hogwarts and Harry..." Hermione saw Alain's amused look and only just

realized how many of her stories were told to the Delacours and not her

own parents. She also began to wonder just how much Harry's Godfather

told the local aurors. "He... he didn't say anything about a hippogriff, did

he?"

"Something about a girl and a boy and a plot to help an escaped serial

killer escape again... or were you thinking about two young teens riding a

magical winged beast in a way that was terribly romantic?"

"He said our ride on Buckbeack looked romantic?" Blood boiled up to tint

the embarrassed girl's complexion. She was far too engrossed in asking

herself why she and Harry didn't snog right there on Buckbeack's back to

even hear her dad's next question. His voice was just a warm droning

noise in the background as she began to realize that those trashy

romance novels she's become addicted to don't even compare to the

intimacy and danger that she's already experienced with Harry... before

or after his death.

"Hermione!" Emma practically shouted into her daughter's ear.

"What?!" Hermione hadn't quite lost that flushed look. "Right. Well... I

may not have told you everything about Third Year just yet. I'll tell you

all about it after we hear about Bern and the I.C.W. panel."

Daniel tried to draw his daughter's gaze, but she was busy looking

anywhere but at Mum and Dad. And she was still quite red.

"Are you telling me that the year that you were attacked by those soul

sucking demons, you also helped a dangerous criminal escape?"

"Sirius is innocent! He was tossed into Azkaban without a trial! Peter

Pettigrew was the one responsible for those muggle deaths and the

betrayal of the Potters! Even the Lestranges got put on trial and Bellatrix

openly admitted her crimes." Hermione looked at her parents hoping to

find something positive. All she saw was two people who clearly were

having trouble with how dangerous their daughter's life really was.

"There may have been some time travel in there somewhere too. Just,

like, one or two hours on any given day, mind you... it's not like I redid

whole years or anything..." Where was Harry when she really needed

him? Hermione didn't want to have to explain this by herself.

"I think I'll take that drink now, Alain." Emma knew her daughter lived in

a world not too distant from Make Believe, but she didn't know that

Hermione also guest starred on Dr. Who and The Adventures of Sherlock

Holmes.

-o\O/o-

Albus Dumbledore stared into the fireplace within his private quarters in

Hogwarts Castle and let his mind drift.

Plans within plans were well underway but it all seemed too little too

late in the Headmaster's mind. Every few days, he would confer with his

Potions Master and ask for any news on Tom's secretive movements, not

that Severus ever spoke in more than general terms. Snape would identify

a new victim on occasion and remark how horrible their death was. He

would also remark on just how easy it was to pin these crimes on Sirius

Black... or more recently some unnamed French assailant which The

Daily Prophet assures its readers is a Dark Lady. Germany had

Grindelwald. England had Tom Riddle. It's France's turn, right? The Daily

Prophet would have their readers believe that the Delacours are building

a dark army of half-breeds and magical creatures and no notable English

voices appear to be challenging their claims.

Albus now saw that this anti-French sentiment was getting out of hand,

but he was at a loss as to how he could curtail it. Something big would

have to happen to turn attention back to the real danger... but, alas. Tom

was far too careful to allow anyone to catch wind of his tireless work.

During Snape's most recent meeting with Albus, the reformed Death Eater

revealed a truly frightening nugget of information.

The notorious murderer Black is going to be eclipsed in violence and

terror by this French Dark Lady. Snape almost reverently described to the

Headmaster a private meeting in which Tom had his epiphany while

reading Rita Skeeter's most recent rumor laden piece on Potter and his

French hosts.

'Why fight for control out in the open like a Gryffindor would,' Tom was

heard to say, 'when we can take London secretly as the light loving fools

are lead to slaughter on foreign shores?'

Albus shivered for a moment. He had seen the respect Severus afforded

Tom in seeking to turn his enemies upon another foe. No. Severus was

fully turned from the dark; Dumbledore knew this to be true... so much

depended on it.

A soft chime sounded.

"Mimsey."

POP

"Headmaster calls for Mimsey?" The diminutive female in a Hogwarts

crest adorned napkin-toga bowed low before her master.

"Please retrieve my owl post."

POP

Albus only had to wait a moment for the same house elf to reappear.

POP

Mimsey lovingly held out a single parchment scroll with a familiar red

wax seal. Albus ignored his elf in favor of cracking open the I.C.W.

notice. Mimsey disappeared quietly as Albus read the call to Bern for a

formal inquiry and extradition hearing.

"Oh, Sirius. I suppose I should have expected something like this... you

going after Pettigrew in eighty-one and all. Why ever did I not put

tracking charms on you or surveillance charms on Grimmauld Place?

Moody would tell me I've gone soft." Albus pulled himself out of the

intricately charmed chair and began walking back to his office. "Is that

what happened to you, my friend? Finally zagged when you should have

zigged?"

Without Mad-Eye Moody at his side, Albus would have a hard time filling

the old auror's wartime assignments. Perhaps Shacklebolt... but he was

still too soft. Were there no Auror Captains left who could still be

counted on to serve the light in secret? This was one thing he could not

lean on Severus for no matter how good the Potions Master would be at

it. Only so many hours in the day after all.

By the time Albus was back in his office and standing half way between

his desk and his floo connected fireplace, a bit of inspiration struck. He

looked at the notice again.

"... Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and related material witnesses..." Why,

that could mean Miss Granger. And with Alain Delacour being a likely

representative for the French contingent, why, his daughter's and Harry

may even find their way to Bern.

Albus began to scan his office looking for something that could be a

useful bargaining chip with his missing student. He needed some way to

remind her that Hogwarts was her future.

Albus needed new pieces on the board to replace his recent losses. He

needed Hermione Granger. He needed Harry Potter... dead or alive, it

made no difference now. Albus was beginning to think he needed

Gabrielle Delacour, though for the life of him he could see no way to

peacefully secure the girl's future attendance at Hogwarts. He was quite

done with blood magic wards such as were used to lock young Harry in a

symbiotic relationship with his aunt at 4 Privet Drive... to do something

similar with Gabrielle and Hogwarts was tempting, but risky in so many

ways. He should at least wait for some hint of what the young child's role

could be in the bloody conflict to come.

Blood wards. Privet Drive. Potter. He had his bargaining chip. A page or

two from Lilly (Evans) Potter's private journal and its wealth of research

and family history would surely turn heads. Yes, he would copy just

enough of the journal to whet their appetites while still proving useless

and hand them over as a show of good faith for the future. A future

where those with the energy and power to defeat the Dark Lord followed

his guidance. They would follow his guidance as he was the only one

alive with knowledge and experience enough to counter Tom and his

followers.

There was much to be done. Albus took a pinch of floo powder and

tossed it into the fireplace.

"Severus Snape's Office!"

-o\O/o-

July 21st, 1995

Emma Granger was quickly coming to the conclusion that she and her

husband now had a second option for holiday travel, assuming their first

option didn't become a permanent home soon anyway. Bern was a

delightful city. While neither she nor her husband spoke German or the

true local dialect, their English and French was enough for the elder

Grangers to amuse themselves as Hermione attended the scheduled

I.C.W. hearings soon to be underway.

"My word, they've gone and put a McDonalds on the same block as the

Zytglogge. That clock tower's centuries old and just so… why would they

do a thing like that, you think, Emma?" Emma turned to look at her

husband's discovery.

"Well, I suppose even the Swiss want the opportunity to ruin their diets

like the rest of us. Alain said something about the I.C.W. being under the

clock tower, so I suppose even wizards could walk over for a quick lunch

break... assuming their little friends can't reproduce fast food and take

away menus exactly. I bet Dobby could... he and Virginie are both quite

good in the kitchen." Emma had yet to notice the food choices available

as she was fully focused on all of the shopping she planned to torture her

husband with in the coming hours.

"What do you think, Em?" Emma stopped. Her husband didn't tend to use

her pet name unless the conversation were serious or they were... in

congress.

"About going back?"

The two had already made special arrangements at their dental practice

to keep them in France as long as possible, but they would have to head

home soon if they were going to at all.

"I don't see how we can avoid it, Em. We aren't so well off as to retire

early and I don't think we can just re-establish a practice in France as

much as the idea appeals to me. No... we have to go back." Dan didn't

want to have this conversation, but it needed to be had.

"I agree, Dan. It's just... maybe we can move to another home. You heard

Hermione earlier. She said they usually track muggleborn students to

their homes due to the magic they release. Harry was behind wards at his

Aunt's house, but what about his school? His uncle's office? I don't think

that the purebloods in charge would have any idea what it is we do for a

living, let alone how to find us doing it." Emma looked into a high end

clothing store's front window. That dress would look wonderful on

Hermione.

"You're right of course, dear. Alain has already mentioned that he could

help speed up the process, whatever we chose to do. Luckily his ministry

has more contacts in the non-magical world than ours does. We'll get a

buyer in short order so all we need is a new home... something we can

look for from hotel rooms if need be." Daniel looked at his wife. The

decision was made. Now if only the specter of convincing Hermione that

their holiday was over would not weigh them down so much as they

continued to see the sights.

-o\O/o-

"Your wand, sir." The Swiss I.C.W. guards all knew French. Living in such

an international hub tended to make one multilingual.

"Of course." Alain relinquished his his wand... twenty-eight centimeters,

stone pine encasing a Veela hair core. While he had his theories, no one

could prove a relationship between Monsieur Delacour's wand core and

his chosen life-mate. The Veela who donated that hair was not related to

Apolline's bloodline in the least.

"Thank you, sir." The wand passed security as he knew it would. "The

wards have been altered to accept Monsieur Potter, but only for the next hour.

Please conduct your business before that deadline."

"Thank you." One man and one ghost passed the last checkpoint between

the 'public' I.C.W. circulation spaces and the secured rooms. Two more

doors and two more wand checks later, Alain found the door he wanted

and knocked.

"Err... come in?" A confused and perhaps amused voice called from the

other side of the door.

If Harry Potter had a heart to beat any more, it would be revving at high

speed. Damn, but he missed his heartbeat. Not even in the dreams of his

girls could Harry's heart be suffered to function.

Alian opened and then stepped past the dull steel door to Sirius Black's

holding cell. Harry, still holding on to customs he followed only out of

habit, looked over Alain's shoulder without trying to float around or

through the man.

"Monsi- Harry! It's you! It's really you! Oh, Merlin- I'm so sorry, Harry!"

Sirius Black was staring ultimate failure in the face. First, in Nineteen

eighty-one and again in Nineteen ninety-five... he had failed his godson

and by extension James and Lilly. Failed them horribly... and the ghost of

Harry Potter was here to prove that one does not have to die to burn in

Hell.

Sirius didn't cry. He fell to his knees and wept.

"It's going to be alright Sirius. You'll see." Harry floated over to the

broken man, a man who withstood over a decade in the harsh halls of

Azkaban only to fall apart at the one sight no dementor had ever been

able to show him.

"Bu- but how?" Sirius tried to look Harry in the eye but couldn't. "I would

have died for you! Should have. I would have been happy to die knowing

I could tell your parents I'd done my best. Oh, James... Merlin... James

and Lilly are going to tear me apart when I finally cross over. It's what I

deserve, Harry."

"Sirius... it's not that bad-"

"I wanted to watch the tasks Harry, but Dumbledore said it was too risky.

First Hagrid takes you from me on Dumbledore's orders and then his

fucking fish-friends take you from me when I can't even look over you.

Fucking... I'm so sorry." The international prisoner coughed up some

phlegm and spat it at his I.C.W. provided toiletries. "I'm worthless. Hell,

where's a dementor when you need one?"

"Now, now. Mister Black, we have need of you. Harry here needs you

still." Alain understood that only Harry could really save this man but he

could lead Harry on the path to this pureblood Lord's recovery. "Harry

may be dead, but he is not done with this Earth. He needs you alive and

functional."

"Alain's right, Padfoot. I do need you... now more than ever." Harry

moved in front of Sirius. The next time he looked up, they'd be eye to

eye. "There are things that need doing, Padfoot. Damsels in distress that

need saving. Even if I knew how to move on, I wouldn't. I couldn't leave

Gabby and Hermione to fate."

"What do you mean, pup?" He couldn't look up, but he could listen.

"I've been thinking, Sirius. Don't say it!" That wasn't a smile on his

godfather's face, but Harry had seen enough of a smirk to guess the next

joke. "Anyway... I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that

whatever I had that made my life so bloody dangerous was infectious."

Sirius looked up for that. He looked confused, for that matter Alain did

too, but at least Sirius did look his godson in the eye.

"You don't see it?" Sirius shook his head. "Let me explain then. Weird

things always happened to me ever since I was one. The attack that took

my parents. An unblockable spell bouncing right off my head. You got

infected that night what with Wormtail and Azkaban. Sorry about that.

Hermione's first exposure to me was on the Express for the first time, but

she got infected when I saved her from the troll. Her life's been downhill

ever since... bloody dementors won't leave her alone. And look what I did

to Gabby."

"You saved her life, Harry" Alain had to point it out. It was only fair.

"And now look at her life since then. I marked her. My own government

wants to burn her at the stake and they want to take her wand as a prize.

She's got my bloody title... the 'Who Lived' part of it anyway. Oh, and the

dementors again. That's one recurring theme I can do without. Honestly.

With any luck, Jeanne will be immune on account of her already being

dead."

Sirius saw an opening and took it. "Jeanne? Who's the new girl, Harry?

Does Hermione have anything to worry about?"

Harry looked over to Alain and smirked.

"New girl, he says..." And now to prove that Padfoot was as infected as

anyone else... "You still think you need to pay for your sins? Would you

like to earn some redemption, Padfoot? I have a job for you."

"Anything, pup. Anything."

"Hermione needs more protection than I can give her, Sirius. She's in the

spotlight now and I can't beat on trolls like I used to. 'Mione could use an

English pureblood Lord to hide behind... someone that can keep the

political wolves at bay and hex those what need a good hexing. And by

wolves I mean the English Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore."

"What's Dumbledore done to- Wait. Never mind. I'll do it, pup." It didn't

matter why. Harry wanted Sirius to do it and that's all that mattered.

"Harry can tell you all about it after you're free. That's our goal, by the

way... you may not get freedom in England but Europe should be safe for

you by the end of the day." Alian took up the torch. "We should be able

to force Bones or Dumbledore to act in England if the I.C.W. clears you. If

not, you'll just have to learn to live in comfort surrounded by the beauty

of the French Riviera."

Sirius seemed to think about his options. "Cold England with few topless

women or warm France with lots of them, eh? Maybe being a fugitive

can add to my 'bad boy' image, yeah? Girls like that, don't they, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "That's what I hear, mate. Hermione was all prim and

proper until I showed her how to break the rules. Just remember she's

mine."

Sirius held up his hands in mock surrender and smiled. "You win, Harry.

She's too young for me anyway, too young as in illegal... now Fleur on

the other hand-"

"I'm still in the room, Mister Black." Alain. Fleur's father. Right.

"Oops."

In a larger and better decorated room not too far away from Sirius Black's

social embarrassment, a group of English representatives passed through

green flames into Bern.

First out of the fire was an unremarkable auror of with brown hair and

brown eyes. He was soon joined by a much taller bald auror with dark

skin, dark eyes and a smile. A woman came next, one who seemed to

radiate authority as strongly as Minerva McGonagall despite being much

younger than the ex-Deputy Headmistress. Her brown hair was pulled

back into a severe bun leaving navy blue eyes as her most notable feature

set on a face that was only just beginning to show wrinkles due to tension

and age. The fourth and final member of the English contingent stumbled

out of the floo reminding anyone who knew Harry Potter in life of his

troubles with magical transport. The young woman's eyes darkened in

anger and her hair flushed red in embarrassment before settling down to

a more respectable color.

"Ah, Madam Bones. So nice to see you in Bern." Albus Dumbledore had

been waiting.

Today was not his day to be English, for his role as Supreme Mugwump

would not allow him, but he was within his rights to greet the more

important parties. Albus had in fact already spoken to the French

contingent and thought himself quite well restrained when Monsieur

Delacour did not show up with the official delegation.

"Thank you, Supreme Mugwump. I look forward to making some

headway on the Black case after all of these years. Maybe soon real

justice can be served." The older woman was the one to address Supreme

Mugwump Dumbledore. Amelia Bones.

"Amelia, I hope that we can remain friendly to one another outside of

official functions. Please call me Albus." Albus looked across Amelia's

security contingent. "Aurors Dawlish, Shacklebolt... and Nymphadora, so

nice to see you doing well. I think I will always fondly remember

watching your hair cycle through lengths and colors under the Sorting

Hat, my dear."

"Auror Tonks, if you please, Headmaster. I'm not eleven anymore." Yet he

got to her just the same. Headmaster and not Supreme Mugwump. Albus

thought it a point to him though he dare not lend voice to the victory.

"Albus. How long do you expect this to take? How did the French even

agree to this? I'm sure the more intelligent wizards outside of England

can take the Prophet with a grain of salt, but surely they would seek to

humiliate us as much as possible after catching our worst criminal as

soon as he stepped foot on French soil." Amelia didn't tend keep her

finger on the pulse of international politics, but this wasn't just your

every day prisoner transfer.

"I myself am somewhat surprised that they would make this offer so

quickly, but I think you will find they still intend to humiliate England to

the greatest extent possible in the next day or two, Amelia. You see... the

French delegation has submitted a witness list which includes the

Delacours, Hermione Granger and our dearly departed Harry Potter."

That statement by the old headmaster got the attention of all three

English aurors and their department head.

"Potter's going to testify? How does that work?" Amelia had never heard

of anyone putting a ghost on the witness stand. The Wizengamot

outlawed it centuries ago as you can't give them veritaserum.

In truth, far too many ghosts were eager to testify and identify their

murderers before the Wizengamot against Wizengamot members and

other prominent pureblood Lords who had in fact done much of the

killing. Most impolite of those spirits... thinking that they could get

someone in Azkaban just because that person was 'guilty' of the crime.

What was the value of a Wizengamot seat if you couldn't use it to

subjugate the lesser peoples and send your political enemies to their

death?

"You may not know this, but Harry's already testified in France. Of course

the results of his testimony were only widely acknowledged outside of

English borders. After that one run of the Daily Prophet the day after the

Third Task, Fudge and his operatives effectively took control of the

Prophet and the English Wizarding Wireless Network. Why, I don't doubt

that even if Sirius Black were cleared of all charges and set free here in

Bern, Fudge would still want him kissed." Amelia and her guards all saw

Albus's famous eye twinkle work its magic during his last comment.

Wait...

"You don't expect me to believe that they would really let him go, do

you? He betrayed the Potters! Killed all those muggles... he deserves to

be kissed."

"Did he? Does he?" With that, Albus made his excuses and left four

confused and alarmed English magicals to be checked in for their role...

possible role... of prisoner transfer detail.

"I think I need to smoke on it." John Dawlish was the first to speak.

"Go ahead, John. Make it quick though, we've got about half an hour

before the morning session begins."

Amelia nodded to the unassuming veteran auror who didn't have to be

told twice. He's been here as Department Head escort and on prisoner

transfer duty before and knows very well where the best rooms for an

auror to take a short break were located. As long as he didn't come back

drunk, a bit of tobacco use on the job was still acceptable.

It really was a beautiful morning, not that the I.C.W. meeting attendees

all knew this as most of them would end up using the floo or a portkey to

reach the underground magical international offices. Still those few who

did poke their heads outside and walked the streets of Bern would feel

refreshed before returning to their assigned tasks.

Unless, of course, one's assigned task was to assemble in the middle of an

old forest some fifty kilometers away tucked tightly between two steep

mountains. Six men had such a task. Their seventh, as seven was a

magically powerful number, would get them in the building and guide

them to the target. One of the rough and dangerous looking men looked

into the sky. Yes. Today was a good day for schadenfreude. It was time.

As one, six cloaked figures checked their wands, blades and potions and

grabbed the portkey. Ten seconds later, they disappeared without so

much as a pop.

"It's about time, you lot. Follow me." Sure, it sounded common, but then

code phrases shouldn't draw attention to the ones speaking them. The

proper counter was to remain silent and follow until they were indoors.

After stepping in through a rough, banged up 'Employees Only' door

covered in muggle repelling wards, the group of seven walked down one

hall up a flight of stairs and into a storage room half full of tables, chairs

and random items of heraldry.

"Right. The original target is in the building, but a better option has come

up." John Dawlish pulled a map of the I.C.W. building out of his robes

and unrolled it onto the table. "You should now think of Black as a

secondary target."

One of the faceless cloaked men spoke up in an accent John couldn't

quite place. Damn mercenaries and hit-wizards grow up Merlin knows

where. "We came here for Black. You want us to hit someone else, make

it worth our while."

"My associates are willing to pay as much for each Delacour woman and

Hermione Granger alive as Black is worth dead. Each of the witches dead

is worth half as much as alive." The six hired hands looked towards each

other and began to chatter back and forth in a language that sounded like

German to Dawlish, but he couldn't be sure.

"How hard are they going to be to get to?" The spokesman of the group

was addressing him again.

"Easier than Black. There will be more people to walk through but only

one checkpoint in front of the witness room. Do it right and you'll catch

them in a portkey enabled room." John pointed to where they were and

where their two different targets were on the map. One checkpoint would

be much easier than three and change.

There was another quick discussion between John's guests before the

spokesman turned one last time.

"Agreed. We will hit the witness room instead of taking Black when they

bring him out of the secure cells."

John nodded to the head of the group, re-rolled and stowed his map and

began to walk back to the storeroom door.

"I need to get back to my post. My Ministry will eventually catch heat for

this, but they-"

John's departure was cut short as a young woman with spiky green hair,

dark eyes and English auror's robes pushed through the door.

"John! What's taking.. you..." Nymphadora seized up upon seeing a group

of cloaked men right behind her partner for the day.

Red light filled the young auror's vision before she fell to the floor

unconscious.

"Bloody... they probably saw that in the security office! We'll have to rush

it or forget the whole thing." John knew that their window of opportunity

was half of what it had been... if they were lucky.

"I'm not leaving without earning some gold." The spokesman raised his

wand again. "Avada-"

"Wait! She's a metamorph. We can use her." John held the mercenary

back. True, she was only a half-blood, but she was a metamorphmagus

and you don't just banish them along with the rest of the garbage.

"Imperio. Ennervate." Tonks stood up and immediately took point ahead

of the men. This just might work in their favor.

Back in the holding cells. Alian and Harry were speaking with the only

good Defense professor Harry knew that didn't follow a Dark Lord.

"And so James steps up behind Lilly and Alice and says 'what do you

mean late? You've never been late for anything since you were born.'

Sweet Merlin, Harry. The best prank anyone ever played on your father

and it wasn't a prank at all. It was you!" Remus Lupin laughed harder

than he had since last summer... maybe even before that, before James

and Lilly were killed?

Harry was giggling as Alain watched on in amusement. The boy needed

more of this. Perhaps the Delacour family might have work available for

one who is... close to nature?

All merriment stopped when a severe looking Swiss guard entered the

cell.

"Messieurs. Dark magic has been released within the building. Please leave the

holding area."

Alain's amused look fell to a stronger all business image, Harry tried to

regain his breath only to find that is was unnecessary.

"Perhaps I should head back to the girls, Alain? I'll keep an eye on yours

for you." Harry stretched out in the ghost equivalent of standing up.

"Please do so, Harry. They are priceless to me... all of them."

"As they are to me as well, Sir. Perhaps we can get the full set back

together soon. I do so look forward to what Segolene will do to 'Mione's

old uniform. See you later, Moony." Harry put a balled fist over his heart

and bowed. Seconds later, he disappeared, leaving Alain to use less exotic

means of transport to attend to his assigned duties. He walked.

Remus thought to himself as the door to his cell closed. 'Is this how it

always starts? Laughter and danger and the questionable safety of a

young maiden?' Remus gave Harry good odds for some real heroics to

happen in the next half hour. Would the goblins cover heroic feats of

daring-do, or would they consider them too risky to book?

Gabrielle was bored.

Hermione was reading. Fleur was reading. Momma was reading. Gabby

had a book in her hands, but it was boring. Why couldn't something fun

and exciting happen?

"Hey, Gabby!" Wasn't there some bible verse about asking and recieving

or something?

"Harry!" "Harry!"

Harry pouted a little. Only two out of four greeted him properly with

smiles and everything. Fleur and her mother both just nodded in his

direction. Maybe next time. At least Gabby was bouncing in place with

enough energy to make up for Fleur and Apolline's properly subdued

reactions.

"Ladies. Look, I'm here early becau-"

Harry stopped when he say the door behind Hermione open. A young

woman wearing a Swiss auror cloak looked around for a moment before

setting her sights on Apolline and walking right up to the Veela mother's

side.

"Can I help you? Are we being called early?" Apolline looked into the

woman's eyes. Her answer was not what anyone was expecting.

"Stupefy."

Hermione, Fleur, Gabrielle and Harry all stared in shock as their minder

fell to the floor unconscious. Fleur and Hermione both reached for their

wands, but it was too late. Too late and they were pointing the wrong

way.

Red light filled the room as four more wordless stunners flashed from the

doorway and sent both Fleur and Hermione to the floor. Four men

entered the room. One of them was wearing English auror's robes and the

other three were wearing common black cloaks.

"Potter!" Harry was about to move... to do something when the auror

barked out his name. "Don't move and don't go away! The minute I can't

see you one of these bitches dies. They die, do you understand?"

Harry shakily nodded. Sometimes being a ghost wasn't really worth all

that much.

"Tonks! Catch." Auror Dawlish tossed a gold coin at the woman who

stunned Apolline. As she caught it, her Swiss auror cloak slid off Tonks'

shoulders to reveal a bloodied English cloak under it. "It's a portkey. Take

the little girl with you."

Tonks grabbed Gabby's arm, causing the girl to snap out of her own

confused and panicked silence.

"Let go of me and go away!"

Gabby jerked and swatted Tonks' arm, sending the golden portkey flying

through the air to bounce off an empty chair a few meters away. The

little Veela kicked Tonks in the shin and dove under a table before a

stupefy could tag her on the ass. A thin, beautiful and powerful wooden

shaft slid in front of her face, dangling on a golden chain. She reached

out and grasped it.

"Get up or yer Mum dies, little girl!"

Frightened beyond reason, Gabby got up with wand in hand.

"You're mean! You need to leave!" Gabrielle's little heart was hammering

away inside her chest. Momma and Fleur and Hermione were sleeping.

These mean men were getting closer to her family. Harry couldn't help

her. What could she do?

"We don't have time for another round you little chit. Tonks is going to

summon..."

Gabby wasn't listening. Her pulse was booming in her ears blocking out

everything else. These men were going to do bad things to her, her

Momma, her sisters and maybe even Harry too. She heard what the man

told Harry. She also remembered that she had cousins, an aunt and a

grand aunt that were taken by bad men and never seen again. Gabby

looked into Harry's eyes. What would Harry do?

As the angry bad man continued to talk, Gabby and Harry looked each

other. Gabby poured uncertainty and fear into her eyes. Harry, she saw,

returned her gaze with one she'd seen before. It was the face Harry wore

seconds before he died.

Gabby's face changed to match his.

"... now, take Tonks' hand, little girl." John Dawlish had finished messing

around with this girl. It didn't matter how many galleons she was worth

if she held them up too long to collect. His career was already shot...

until certain changes occurred... and no damned half-breed princess was

going to send him to Azkaban.

As Harry disappeared from the visible world, Gabby felt him appear deep

in her heart. Newfound courage pushed against the mind numbing fear of

fighting bad men.

'You give me strength, Harry.' "I HATE YOU!"

Gabrielle's shriek was matched by a sharp left to right jerk of her Harry

wand. That and a whole mountain of intent. She could protect her family.

She could!

Four men, all of them casting vengeful attack magic at the uppity child,

were tossed to Gabrielle's right like dolls in a hurricane. Four men hit the

wall in a huge shower of cloth and glass shards and splinters... and fire.

Bright blue-white flames snapped into existence inside Gabby's conjured

winds and ate through the cloaks and robes of the four men who had

dared to threaten her family.

"I HATE YOU SOOOO MUCH!"

She jerked her wand once more and two men who were nearly back on

their feet fell again to the firestorm of a righteously angry Little Angel.

Nymphadora Tonks stood by Gabby motionless. The magical chains of

mind control weakened and crumbled as their caster became a victim of

a far more obvious command: die in fire. Had Tonks been capable of

independent thought, she would have blown a mental circuit or three

watching as an eight year old Veela crushed four auror-level skilled

wizards. More than that... the eight year old just stood there as four dark,

angry curses flew unerringly into her chest. Purple, red and yellow

magical bolts slid over the girl like oil on water and impacted somewhere

behind her.

'Gabrielle.' Harry. That was Harry. 'Your father is almost here. You'll be safe

soon.'

The silver-blonde haired girl stood still, wand raised high, as blue-white

magical flame burned in a wall before her. The women of her family all

lay motionless on the floor at her feet as wood, glass, cloth and flesh was

consumed by her spell.

Water. Suddenly water was everywhere.

"Gabrielle!"

Poppa?

"Poppa?"

There was motion through the fires. Water was winning the battle. Men

were coming into the room to save her. Amidst a group of Swiss guards,

she could just make out her Poppa.

"Harry! Poppa! I'm scared!"

Gabby began to wail as the fires lowered and strong arms wrapped her

tightly about the waist. Harry did what he could to fill the wailing girl's

heart with love and pride through heart and soul as Poppa smothered her

with love and protection from without.

A pair of stunners bored into the witch standing to Gabrielle's side as

Tonks was finally showing signs of awareness.

"You did so good, my Little Angel. You saved everyone. Such a big, big girl

you are." Alain let the Swiss guard following him into the room continue

to douse the flames as he picked up his crying little girl. Alain came so

close to losing everything today and Little Angel saved it all.

More Swiss guards poured into the room to put down the fire and clear

damage. Three unconscious witches were levitated under heavy guard to

a medical station, a nervous and shaky ghost zipping between Gabby and

each floating witch scanned for even the slightest of injuries, real or

imagined.

The hearing would be postponed twenty-four hours to regain order and

to tighten security. They would do this again, but not today.

The I.C.W. would release information stating that seven or eight attackers

including at least one English auror attempted to kidnap witnesses at

Sirius Black's hearing and that three people were detained and five dead

after the attackers killed three guards and wounded three witnesses and

one guard. This would be released to news agencies later in the evening,

but for now, security and cleanup were more important than a press

conference.

-o\O/o-

Auror John Dawlish opened his eyes. They hadn't detained him yet…

why hadn't they done that? No matter, he could still make his way out of

the building if he was quiet enough.

The auror pulled himself out of the burnt rubble which had once been a

well appointed waiting room and squinted his eyes to see through the

smokey haze and poor lighting.

"You're awake. Good for you."

John snapped his wand around to cover… Harry Potter?

"Potter! Don't make any sudden moves." Potter, if it was Potter, just

smiled and held out two empty hands.

To be honest, auror Dawlish was more than a little concerned that the

Boy-Who-Failed looked alive and kicking. How the bloody hell did Potter

accomplish that? Did someone polyjuice into him as a prank? Well John

wasn't laughing.

"We're getting out of here, Potter, and you're coming with me. No funny

stuff or I'll curse you straight to Hell."

"You mustn't joke of such things John." Potter wasn't smiling anymore.

"You should think really carefully about what you're doing, John… and

how you got here. This is important."

John had a really bad feeling about this, but forced his growing fear to

the back of his mind. If he could just get out of this situation in one

piece… he might be able to salvage the cocked up attack.

"Why are you here, Potter, and not someone else? Why isn't this room

filled with aurors?"

Harry seemed to look around before sticking his hands in his pockets.

"This is your big chance, John. Your chance to explain things or to make

an effort to turn around. As for why I'm here? I volunteered." Harry's face

dropped into a glare. "You went after my girls, John. I'm not happy with

you… not happy at all."

John kept ignoring the horrible wrongness of the situation in an effort to

turn things to his advantage.

"Shut it, Potter!" A scarred and pitted wand drew even with Harry's eyes.

"We are going to walk out of this room until we get to someplace a

portkey will work… and then we're going to go on a little trip to Jolly

Old England… and then you're going to say hello to a man that you upset

terribly when you were twelve. I hope you enjoyed getting your body

back, Potter, because I don't doubt your new host is going to yank your

ghost right back out of it again."

"You don't understand…"

"Reduc-" Auror John Dawlish's blasting curse was silenced just before he

could finish the incantation, his scarred and pitted wand clattered to the

floor with no wizard to hold it.

Harry frowned. He gave John more time than he deserved to turn around

and John went and pissed it all away.

"To Hell with you, John."

-o\O/o-

Albus Dumbledore stepped through a charred and pock marked door

frame to view the devastation still present from the unpleasantness

before lunch.

Remarkable. He could see why the local Unspeakables, or whatever

Switzerland chose to call them, insisted of doing a thorough sweep of the

room before any elves were called in to set it to rights. The room was

singing with fire magic even hours after the last flames were

extinguished. If he had to hazard a guess, Albus would say that this must

be the magical signature of a Veela fueled blaze.

Now for his own research.

The Supreme Mugwump raised his wand and began to conduct a magical

orchestra of charms and other spells... all designed to soak up the

information hidden within a room and make it plain to his sight. He

flicked and twisted and swished until the information was also compiled

in a time index of sorts.

Now for the review... Albus concentrated and watched as colors swirled

and danced within the cut glass of his spectacles. Four females to begin

with, three of them Veela. No surprises as the old man was familiar with

all four magical signatures and it was common knowledge as to who was

supposed to be in the room... or at least it was common knowledge to

important players in this morning's drama.

Miss Granger, you break an old man's heart. Only just this morning had

he heard from a very boastfull Madame Maxime that Miss Granger had

no intention of stepping foot inside of Hogwarts before taking her

N.E.W.T.s; she would be a Beauxbatons girl this coming year. Something

would have to be done to make her see reason and abandon this foolish

idea of a transfer. As her magical guardian, Albus would return his lost

lamb to the flock as soon as he was able. It was imperative that such a

high profile student return with her peers on the First of September.

Hogwarts needed Hermione Granger and as the school's headmaster, he

would show Hermione that she needed Hogwarts just as much.

Auror Tonks enters, approaches the Delacour mother and attacks her.

Now why would young Nymphadora do that? Albus hoped he would be

allowed to attend her interrogation, but his country of origin would

trump his station for this investigation. The I.C.W. was well within its

rights to suspect even him... at least in the short term.

Ahhh. Enter Auror Dawlish and a group of men he did not know. So

that's where the missing English auror went. No good can come of this...

it's bad enough that an English auror is being held prisoner. The Prophet

will go crazy when they learn that Dawlish died here.

What this? A touch of Veela fire strengthened by... Oh, my. Such a spell

has never played out before his eyes in his very long life. And it was cast

by young Gabrielle with Potter's wand! Do they realize what this means?

No! Of course they don't. Only Albus could... or perhaps Voldemort too if

he learned of this.

This was too much to hope for... and yet how could he ensure her

cooperation? The girl's upbringing has nothing in common with Harry's...

no suffering to sharpen her resolve except for Harry's own death. And she

was French. Albus had no legitimate excuse to take her under his wing.

Why, the Delacours now had several legitimate excuses to stay far away

from Hogwarts and England. Even if her parents were to drop dead

tomorrow, he had no toe-hold with which to assume guardianship of the

child.

Perhaps he would try once, at least once, to make them see the necessity

of this move in a positive and non-threatening way. It wasn't just England

that needed Gabrielle now... it was the whole of the Wizarding World

that would fall if she were not present to... do what must be done.

The prophesy was not negated, was it? No, it was merely transferred.

Merlin bless Harry Potter for being selfless enough to provide the rest of

us an escape from Tom Riddle's dark reign. Merlin help them all if Albus

Dumbledore can't convince little Gabrielle Delacour that she must face

Tom Riddle. She must face the Dark Lord and die by his wand for the

prophecy to be satisfied.

Albus was sure of it now.

End Chapter

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Six: Thanks! As I've said before I

really do pay attention to constructive criticism and even if I don't reply

directly, that does not mean that I did not add something to the story to

address your issue. Hopefully I have now firmly established that exciting

things can and will happen to Gabby with some regularity. Little Angel

has to grow into her role as heroine, and grow she will. For all of you

who are practically begging me to re-animate Harry soon: It will take

time. In story, we are looking at at least the summer of 96 and maybe not

until the climax of the main storyline. I have a couple of options open

still. I also have a backup 'he never comes back' version. Either that will

be listed as a Second Epilogue/Alt Ending or it will become the main

ending... but only if this story is re-tagged as tragedy, which right now

it's not.

deitarion/SSokolow – The first time I though of adding Jeanne of Arc,

she was going to be mere background for the as yet unexplored Magical

History of France. Now that Harry's actually talked to her... well his thing

for trouble does seem to be contagious, don't it?

gravacor – My story was purpose built to start tragic and have the

characters pull themselves out of tragedy to find happiness. I once

thought this story would only be twelve chapters long. That was when

the whole summer of 95 was only one chapter. This means I can't really

tell you how long it will be except that my epic final battle(s) should all

end before the canon final battle. Therefore there will be resolution

before Hermione can take her NEWTs.

brigrove – Hadn't heard about the review reply rule before. Are there

thresholds? I would have thought to get scolded on one of my other

stories before it would come up here.

Slytherin66 – I wanted a way to explain why Draco could be with a

Greengrass in the canon Epilogue despite having Pansy attached to his

crotch through nearly all seven books. Draco has a lot more potential

than I though he had. He's one of those guys... you know... he's an

asshole but you like him anyway cause he's so good at it.

curailsama – The further I get into this, the more Old Testament it will

get BUT that does not mean I will get all chapter and verse on you. It

means winged beings will hurl fire at dark monsters and many sinners

will be smote. Let the smiting begin!

Dalwyn – Jeanne most definitely will be helped. Internationally, I'm

going with the idea that such problems are hindered by bureaucracy and

cover-ups until they explode out of all proportion. Just look at most

modern wars and there you go.

9. Incubation

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Eight: Incubation

CRACK - Boooom

Harry looked out Gabrielle's bedroom windows. A storm was brewing.

It had been months since Gabby had a real nightmare, one that Harry

wasn't able to minimize or deflect, but she would get little relief tonight.

Harry did whatever he could to lessen the effects and prayed that

Hermione wasn't similarly affected. Gabrielle wasn't moving and he

wasn't leaving her either.

As lighting hammered Gabby's dreamworld from above. Burning men

trudged along the grounds outside, passing through blue-white fires that

seemed to be slowly consuming the landscape around her family home.

Thunder shook the windows once again causing the little ball of Veela to

flinch harder against her one anchor, her one shield against the horrible

burning monster-men.

Harry looked down to the little girl in his lap. He tried to, anyway; there

were two sheets and a comforter on top of the girl providing what

comfort one could get from simply not being able to see her worst

memory over and over and over again in the fields beneath her bedroom

window.

How many times had he been in this position himself? How many times

had he buried his head under covers and plead desperately to any God

listening that someone would make Voldemort go away? The Basilisk?

Dementors?

Harry couldn't hug her tight in the waking world, but he could do it here.

He figured he was worthless in Bern and it hurt him deep inside. John

yelled one sentence and put Harry out of the fight until an eight year old

girl summoned the will to attack professional killers. If only there were

something or some way to defend his girls physically... some way like

how Peeves does his... pranks...

Peeves.

He was dead. He was a ghost like Harry. Peeves knew how to touch

things like in that movie, Ghost. Just maybe, Harry might go drop by

Myrtle's loo a little earlier than he ever expected to.

Harry wouldn't fail his Little Angel again. In the innermost core of

Gabrielle's dreaming mind, Harry swore to protect her from those who

would hurt her, no matter who they were.

"I've got you Gabby. I've got you and I'll never let you go."

Gabby replied with a pitifully weak whimper, "... I'm so scared... ...they'll

get me, don't let them get me..."

"They will never get you. Never."

"...love you Harry..."

"I love you Little Angel. I love you sooooooo much."

"...please don't let them get me..."

Of course, there are advantages to being dead. Little Angel needed her

guardian angel from the moment her head hit the pillow to the moment

she was kissed awake by her Momma. Harry's unlimited patience along

with pure devotion held the monsters at bay all night. He could have

comforted her like this for hours more... days more... even years more if

she needed him to.

It wasn't needed. She woke up.

Bern again today. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time.

-o\O/o-

"State your name."

"Nymphadora Tonks."

The room was clean and brightly lit. "Occupation."

"Auror for the British Ministry of Magic."

Simple white walls separated the prisoner and the interrogator from the

distractions of everyday life.

"How long have you been an auror?"

"Qualified in Nineteen ninety-four. I've been on active duty for fourteen

months."

Aside from a complete lack of doors and windows, the room could have

passed for a police interrogation room anywhere in the non-magical

world.

"Explain your assignment yesterday."

"Escort detail. I was to escort Amelia Bones to Bern and then back to our

Ministry. We also assumed that Black would be coming back with us for a

public execution in London."

The interrogator, who was either American or learned English with an

American accent, continued to look into his prisoner's eyes. There was a

non-magical notepad and pencil in front of him but he ignored the props

as soon as Auror Tonks was brought in by portkey.

"Why did you assault I.C.W. guards?"

"I don't remember attacking I.C.W. guards."

"Why did you attack the witnesses for Sirius Black's hearing?"

"I don't remember attacking any witnesses."

"What do you remember?"

"I remember being told by Madam Bones to retrieve Auror Dawlish so

that we could take our seats in the courtroom. I went down the hallway

he departed through and I remember opening a few doors without luck. I

don't remember finding him. I remember being in a room that was on

fire, but I don't remember how I got there or what I was doing there or

why it was on fire."

"Did you come to Bern yesterday planning to attack guards or witnesses?"

"No."

"Did you come to attack Sirius Black?"

"No."

"Did you plan to help free Sirius Black?"

"No. Why would I do that?

"You are his cousin, are you not?"

"Yes, but everyone knows he betrayed the Potters. I wouldn't help him

escape punishment."

On the other side of a notice-me-not ward, several officials continued to

observe the interrogation.

"So?"

"It's the same story every time. We've used Veritaserum once already. She

volunteered a magical oath to tell the truth just before you came in. We

accepted her offer, of course." The man who appeared to be an I.C.W.

official turned to his guest. "Our interrogator is also an accomplished

legilimens. Any time he sees something in her eyes that betrays her mouth, he

will make note of it."

"Has she said anything useful?"

"When asked what unusual people have been in contact with her, she claims

that Albus Dumbledore invited her to lunch. Her schedule hasn't allowed the

meeting to take place yet."

"The holes in her memory are too big for my comfort. The press is already

saying that this is a British attack, but we have no solid evidence yet. Unless

you find strong evidence to clear her, I want her extradition hearing to start as

soon as Black's is done. It's unlikely that the Supreme Mugwump would be

involved, but we should look into it anyway."

"I understand Monsieur Depaul."

-o\O/o-

A door opened.

Every witch and wizard in the room pointed their wand at the I.C.W.

guards passing through, even a shaking eight year old Veela. Even their

Scottish tutor who would be damned before she let any of those bastards

try to take her wee lass away.

"Judge Goethe has requested the presence of Hermione Granger in courtroom

two."

Hermione looked over to her parents, Apolline and their French Auror

escort. Her parents seemed to reach a new level of tension that Hermione

hadn't seen since they first met her after leaving England.

Both the Veela matron and their escort detail's captain seemed to accept

the summons at face value and Apolline nodded her assent to Hermione.

After requesting two French Aurors to escort Hermione through the halls,

Apolline walked over and pulled the tense young witch into a tight hug.

"Do you really think they'll set him free?" Hermione didn't sound anything

at all like the confident young woman that Apolline was used to dealing

with.

"Stick to the facts and they'll have little choice in the matter."

Hermione hugged back before moving on to her Mum and Dad, getting

tight hugs and whispered declarations of love from them both.

Hermione paused one last time before leaving to look at Gabrielle. She

couldn't see Harry wishing her luck, but she could feel him looking at her

just like she did the night before the Third Task.

Poor Gabby. The one time Harry so much as moved out of her to greet

everyone else during breakfast, she fell to the floor and began screaming

that 'they' were going to 'get her'. Harry immediately re-entered Gabby

and filled her heart with as much love and pride as he could show her,

causing the girl to calm down enough to be consoled properly by her

Momma. He would gladly play the part of spiritual teddy bear until

Gabrielle was ready to stand on her own two feet again.

As the door finally closed behind her, Hermione set her mind back to her

part in Sirius Black's hearing. In a way, it would be her own trial what

with Albus Dumbledore and other British officials in the room and asking

questions of her.

In fact, there were plenty of things the Headmaster knew she did that

wouldn't sit well with the British Ministry of Magic were it to get out in

the open. Expulsion would be the least of her troubles if Minister Fudge

learned that she and Harry saved both Buckbeak from McNair's ax and

Sirius Black from the dementors.

Hermione began to search her memory for logical defenses and possible

counter-blackmail against the Headmaster... right as she bumped into the

auror in front of her. They'd stopped.

"Your Honor, I present Miss Hermione Granger." As the first I.C.W. guard

in line made his announcement, the others stepped to the side.

That was her cue.

As Hermione stepped into the courtroom, she mentally repeated a mantra

first coined by Ron Weasley in First Year. I am brilliant but scary. I am

brilliant but scary. I am Hermione Granger and I am brilliant but scary.

The soon to be Fifth Year Beauxbatons Academie student looked at the

room around her. The room was, though not identical to non-magical

court rooms, close enough that the difference was unmistakable. Three

judges presided in a raised platform of stained oak at the focal point of a

semi-circular room. To the judges' right, Hermione saw a seating area for

court officials and clerical workers who busied themselves with note

taking and whispered conversations which the judges took no note of. To

the judges' left was Hermione herself, in what appeared to be a simple

witness's stand. Just in front of the richly stained, rune encrusted stand

was a small open floor of perhaps five meters in both width and depth. In

the center of the open floor was a shallow black stone bowl upon a

matching black stone pillar. The bowl itself was lined in runes inlayed

with silver and gold at various points along it's faces. After tearing her

eyes off of the spectacular example of what could only be a pensieve,

Hermione looked out over the curved, elevated rows of seating not unlike

what she would expect in a lecture hall or amphitheater.

In the the closest seat of the first row of seats directly in front of her now

seemingly very exposed stand, Hermione saw the grandfatherly smile and

twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Please be seated Miss Granger." At the nearest judge's prompt, she did

so.

"You are a witch born of non-magical parents, are you not Miss Granger?"

The judge called out again.

Hermione began to wonder if this rather old looking man with pale skin

and long white whiskers was Judge Goethe as he spoke English with a

mild German accent.

"Yes Your Honor. My parents are both dentists with no magical ancestry

that we're aware of."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I want you to understand the difference

between this courtroom and any other that you may have encountered to

date. You may notice that you are surrounded by rune covered wooden

panels…" Hermione seemed to nod slightly as the judge pointed to her

surroundings, "…these runes will ensure that you are telling the truth so

long as you are within the witness stand. They also afford you certain

protections, but this isn't that kind of hearing, so I'll not go into detail

about such things.

"Now, what we would like from you, Miss Granger, is for you to tell the

court what transpired on the evening of June Ninth, Nineteen ninety-

four."

All eyes turned to the fifteen year old ex-Gryffindor.

She didn't know what kinds of questions they had asked... or would ask...

Sirius about his escape that night. Did they already know she and Harry

helped him get out of Hogwarts? Did they already know she helped a

doomed animal escape execution? Hermione focused her mind to the task

at hand and began to explain things as they went before using the time

turner and doubling the number of Hermiones and Harrys that existed on

Earth for a three hour period. If she was very lucky, they would not ask

about her and Harry's doppelgangers.

"Well... the night went from ordinary to extraordinary as Ron Weasley,

Harry Potter and I were leaving Hagrid's hut under the cover of Harry's

invisibility cloak. Were were trying to be quiet about it as Headmaster

Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, and two more ministry officials had just

arrived to execute the hippogriff Buckbeak. It was just after we heard the

executioner's ax come down that Ron's pet rat Scabbers was spooked by

my cat Crookshanks and ran off..."

Hermione being Hermione, her explanation could have filled the better

part of a book.

"... was about that time that we came to in the hospital wing to hear

Severus Snape take credit for capturing Sirius Black. As Harry and I both

knew Sirius was innocent, we tried to convince Minister Fudge that Sirius

was innocent and that Snape was wrong. Of course when Snape claimed

that we were confunded by Sirius, the Minister believed him right away. I

believe it was about this time that Sirius managed to escape confinement

and flee the castle before dementors could be brought in to give him the

kiss. I, umn... I believe that about covers what you're asking for, Sir."

One of the other judges, a positively ancient looking woman with dark

brown skin and a tight bun of white hair responded to Hermione's

conclusion.

"We thank you for your testimony, Miss Granger. I believe that I and my

colleagues find your description of events to match perfectly with

testimony already given by Sirius Black." Hermione's all business

expression almost cracked at the relief she felt. They didn't know about

the time turner yet! "Are there any questions from the French or English

delegations?"

Hermione risked a quick glance to her former Headmaster and found his

trademark grandfatherly smile staring right back at her. While she knew

she wasn't an expert on reading people, Hermione thought she might

have detected a little pride in his smile?

Maybe he wasn't going to torpedo her efforts? Would he want Hermione

back in England enough to give the British Department of Magical Law

Enforcement a reason to try to extradite her on criminal charges? He did

seem keen on keeping Harry on Hogwarts grounds on the night of the

Third Task. Well, if the Headmaster did uncover her time travel

adventure, then she'd be sure to tell the court who's idea it all was and

also who gave very specific instructions on how to find a temporary

prison cell from the outside. His supreme mugwumpness himself, that's

who.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood. "If it pleases the panel, I should like to

ask the witness if anything pertinent to this investigation happened after

the end of her recounting."

The three judge panel was not about to refuse their Supreme Mugwump

his request.

"Miss Granger, please respond to Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore's

question."

Bloody Hell. If he was going to take her down... well then she wouldn't

be going quietly.

Hermione stared down Albus Dumbledore. "After you left us alone,

Headmaster, Harry and I did nothing but follow your instructions.

Anything else of pertinence occurred in the three or so hours previous."

"Well said, Miss Granger. Of course you and Mister Potter both acquitted

yourselves admirably on a night when the adults around you were sadly

lacking in judgment and self control. I... I believe that I am satisfied with

your testimony."

'Oh, thank God!' Hermione couldn't help but release a great breath that

she hadn't even realized she was holding.

Albus chuckled openly at her display. "Hmm. I sympathize with you, Miss

Granger. I do believe that giving testimony in such a high profile case can

sometimes be as stressful as experiencing the original events themselves.

Wouldn't you agree?"

"S-some of them, Sir. Yes." Hermione's face went flush at being caught out

by her ex-Headmaster.

"I have no further questions."

Albus took his seat. This time, Hermione maintained tight control of her

breathing. As soon as the old man with way too much power was fully

seated, a woman near him on the front row stood.

"If it pleases the panel, I would like to make a request of Miss Granger."

"Proceed Madam Bones."

"Miss Granger," Madam Bones was sharp and professional despite losing

two of her own aurors in this very building the day before. "I am Amelia

Bones, Head of the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You

and Sirius Black have both testified to a great many things that go against

commonly accepted beliefs back in England. I'd like to request a pensieve

memory of the night in question that I can use in our own investigations

back in London."

"Of course."

"Are there any more questions for Miss Granger? …No? ...Very well. The

witness is excused." Judge Goethe turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger,

please leave the witness stand and return to the waiting room."

As she left her chair and turned for the door behind her, Hermione heard

the judge call for Alain to come to the stand. Alain stood from his seat in

the gallery to take his turn. Upon her return to the waiting room,

Hermione took a seat next to Gabrielle who had the sagging eyelids of

someone who was in great need of a nap. The little girl immediately

dropped her head on Hermione's lap and closed her eyes. Ten minutes

later, Hermione followed Gabby's example and nodded off.

-o\O/o-

"Your Honors, I present the prisoner Lord Sirius Black."

Hermione was in the gallery now as were her parents, the Delacours and

Mrs. McGonagall. She watched him step through the door she herself had

passed through some four hours ago and searched his face for any signs

of what he was thinking. Sirius had a warm smile on his face but she

didn't think it went all the way to his eyes. Perhaps he thought the I.C.W.

might still rule in favor of extradition in spite of clear evidence that he

was not guilty of the crimes Magical Britain sought to punish him for.

The central judge cleared his throat.

"Lord Black, in reviewing your case, we, on behalf of the International

Confederation of Wizards make the following ruling. First, we find you to

be innocent of the crimes you were accused of in your home country of

Britain. Extradition to British territory is denied. Second, we find that

Magical Britain was negligent in its original handling of your case and we

direct the International Confederation of Wizards to publicly censure the

British Ministry of Magic for its actions against you. Third, we find that

all International Confederation of Wizard member nations shall be

directed to grant you free passage across their borders as well as all rights

and privileges provided to any free foreign national within their lands."

Before anyone could react in elation or in shock, Judge Goethe spoke up.

"Do the representatives from France wish to retain custody of the

prisoner for other crimes?"

"No, Your Honor, we do not." The head of the French delegation was

shaking her head.

"Guards, release Lord Black and Mister Lupin." Judge Goethe brought his

gavel down three times. "This hearing is adjourned."

A look of pure relief washed over Sirius and his smile was a bit more

genuine now. It didn't matter that British aurors were within a few paces

of him... they couldn't touch him now if they wanted to! Sirius stood and

looked over to his smiling supporters.

It took several minutes for the courtroom to clear enough for Sirius to

meet with the Granger-Delacour party. In that time, Remus made his

entrance through a side door and managed to come up to Hermione at

about the same time as Sirius did.

"Hey! Hermione! Where's Harry?" Sirius's voice swept over the crowd.

Before answering, Hermione closed in for a quick hug. She didn't notice

the camera flashes coming from a handful of journalists staking out the

exit doors. Her parents saw them though... Alain too.

"I can't say right now. Too many people can hear."

Hermione looked around at the thinning crowds and spotted Albus

Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile. His presence took the edge off of her

own smile but she wasn't going to complain too much as he could have

made things much more difficult for her today. Luckily, there were still a

few more joyful reunions to deal with.

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione gave the werewolf a hug to match the one

she gave Sirius. Much to the annoyance of some, cameras continued to

flash from the exit doors. "I'm ever so glad to see the two of you free

again."

"Call me Remus, Miss Granger. I'm not your professor any longer." Remus

greedily soaked up the warm hug... something the outcast werewolf

almost never got from anyone anymore.

"Only if you call me Hermione, Remus."

"Time's up Mooney! Harry wants me to protect his fair maiden and that

means you have to let go now."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Hermione pulled away from Remus as quickly

as was polite.

"Really, Padfoot. It was just a hug. And I believe you were the one

picking up newspapers and magazines on our way here in which a

certain young Veela featured prominently?" Remus tried to re-assure

Hermione as much as he tried to deflect an old dog.

"Only one of us has been either imprisoned or drunk off their ass near

constantly since Nineteen eighty-one. I think I'm entitled to- oh, by

Merlin, she's gorgeous."

The recently released Lord Black let his eyes wander to a patch of silver-

blonde off to the side with disastrous consequences. His gaze locked onto

the Delacours right before he spoke that last bit.

"Once again, I am hearing things I do not care to hear, Lord Black." As

was the case yesterday, Alain Delacour was present to hear Sirius Black

express far too much interest in his family.

"What I meant to say is that photographs simply do not do your daughter

justice, Sir."

"You are looking at my wife, Lord Black."

"...oh, bugger... Would it help if I took a magically binding vow never to

make advances on the ladies of your family... Monsieur Delacour?"

Apolline took pity on Sirius. As embarrassing as it was, these kinds of

things happened all of the time wherever the Delacour family traveled.

"I assure you, Lord Black, that you are not in any great trouble. With my

ancestry, one cannot avoid such comments and you are still more polite

to us than most English purebloods, whether they have been to Azkaban

or not."

"Never the less, I would still like to hear that vow." Alain didn't get such

offers very often.

"I'd like one of those vows too."

"Daaaaaaaad!" Sirius looked between a scarlet faced Hermione and the

man who had come up behind her.

"Mister Black may have embarrassed himself over Apolline, but he

actually touched you."

Emma put a hand on Daniel's shoulder to stop him from puffing up his

chest any more than he already had. Daniel may not have been seeing

clearly due to fatherly concern, but she saw her daughter's warm-not-

pervy hugs for what they were.

Sirius chuckled a little before hopefully putting this conversation to bed.

"I'd be more than willing to swear magically binding oaths of honorable

intentions to all of your women... if only I could make my way to a

wandmaker's shop first. I seem to have misplaced my own wand a very

long time ago."

"And for my part in that, Sirius, I am deeply sorry." Someone else had

come up behind the celebrating group.

"Well if it isn't the Supreme Mugwump hisself! Nice of you to use all that

power and influence to help me out of a tight spot instead of relying on a

pair of talented yet frightfully young schoolchildren to brave the perils of

a cloud of dementors to- oh, wait! That's exactly what you did! Silly me."

Sirius may not care much about social niceties but he could drive a point

home like nobodies business. "Obviously having two young teens do all

the work for you was the logical path."

Albus's face was full of regret. Whether it was real or imagined was

something none of Harry Potter's current extended family were willing to

bet on.

"Never the less, I am sorry. I have much to atone for and a difficult path

ahead if I am ever to right the wrongs of the last twenty years." Albus

turned from Sirius to Hermione. "And my first task is to have a very

serious discussion with the young Gryffindor before me."

"Ex-Gryffindor, Sir. I've been accepted to Beauxbatons Academie."

"Alas, I did not approve of your transfer, Miss Granger."

As influential as Albus Dumbledore was, he may have ignored the

numerical advantage Hermione's current supporters enjoyed today.

"As her father and legal guardian, I gave her my consent to transfer.

Emma did as well."

"Did Olympe not tell you, Sir?" Alain wasn't smiling, but his voice

betrayed his confidence, "Our Department of Magical Education has

accepted Hermione's transfer papers. As France does not recognize

separate magical guardianships for it's first generation magicals, your

permission was not necessary."

Anger. For the first time today, Hermione was sure she new exactly

which emotion her ex-Headmaster was showing and showing honestly.

Would he regret not throwing her under the bus on the witness stand

earlier? Is he afraid that if Fudge's administration got Hermione into a

holding cell then she might have a little 'accident' with a dementor?

Hermione was more than a little afraid of that one herself.

"Surely you can see that this is a discussion that needs to be held behind

closed doors with as few witnesses as possible?" Albus took quick look

around. Young Gabrielle was wrapped tightly around her mother's waist

but Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. "Preferably with Mister Potter in

attendance."

"Harry will hear of it soon enough, Sir. I'm also quite sure that I would

insist that everyone here be invited to any closed door meeting you wish

to invite me to."

"Have I fallen so far in your opinion as to warrant such precautions, Miss

Granger?" It didn't take a mind reader to see that he had. "Very well. I

shall keep my explanation short today in the hopes that you will seek a

meeting with me at a later date... preferably in the next week. First,

please tell Harry that I am ready to answer a question that he asked me

in the hospital wing after he woke up from his ordeal with Professor

Quirrell and Voldemort. And..."

Albus paused for a moment to pull a non-magical composition book with

slightly worn edges out from between the folds in his robes.

"...I also have something for Mister Potter and Miss Granger to look over.

This is but one volume of a larger collection which encompasses Lily

Potter's private journals. The last volume is a research journal with some

rather excellent work for someone so young. I still find myself looking

through that one trying to prove or disprove some of her theories on

occasion."

Hermione's eyes really did light up at that. Albus was offering something

of great personal value to Harry. She brought her hand forward to accept

the gift.

Only to have Alain catch her by the wrist.

"Hermione, dear... I'm going to have to teach you a series of spells that

Fleur learned some years ago when she first began to draw the attention

of young boys. They are mostly detection and warding spells designed to

make sure you do not just disappear one day never to be heard from

again."

Albus was disappointed to find that Alain trusted him so little. Did

Hermione's first lesson in magical survival have to center on his good-

faith gift? Luckily for his self image, he did not see Minerva McGonagall

also casting similar detection charms from a few paces further away.

When Hermione finally did get her hands on the worn composition book,

she held it with more reverence than she would were she holding the

Gutenberg Bible. Right in the center of the front cover, in tight and

proper letters that looked quite similar to Hermione's own personal best,

were the words:

Lily Evans January 30th, 1971

Hermione didn't see anything beyond the journal for a few minutes as

those around her spoke guardedly with her ex-Headmaster. During this

time, Albus noted one detail that he would have to analyze at a later

date.

Gabrielle was twisting around her mother's waist to get a better look at

the composition book in Hermione's hands. It appeared as though she

were as interested in Lily's journal as Hermione was.

-o\O/o-

"Harry! There you are!"

Harry looked up to see Hermione walk into Gabrielle's bedroom. He was

in the same position comforting a shaking Gabrielle in much the same

manner as the night before.

"Sorry I couldn't go get you like before, 'Mione. It's different now than it

was."

Harry looked out of the bedroom windows prompting Hermione do do

the same.

"Harry? Why is Gabby's dreamscape on fire?"

"I don't know." Harry ran his hand along the eight year old's spine in a

bid to calm her down, but these last two nights have been different from

before. "I'm not sure it's all from her fight with the aurors or whoever

they were either."

Harry looked back at the fifteen year old witch.

"You found us tonight. Congratulations on that."

"You've come into my dreams so often that I began to feel out when you

were coming. Then I got a feel for how... not that I could describe the

process." Hermione made her way back to the side of Gabrielle's bed and

hopped on. "Last night was lonely enough without the two of you that I

couldn't take one more night like it. My dreams aren't worth anything if

you're not in them."

Both Harry and Hermione seemed to wordlessly agree that being in

Gabby's dreamscape while it was on fire was not a good time to get

overly affectionate. Finally, their conversation was restarted. "Tell me

more about the fire."

"As you wish."

Harry briefly smiled at Hermione, just long enough to see her blush.

Looks like she saw that movie too.

"The other night, I figured that the fire must have been part of her

nightmares... there were flaming men on the lawn last night and

everything. Tonight, there are no flaming men. Nothing that reminds me

of that attack in the witness room at all. Since she fell asleep tonight, all I

see is the blue-white fire getting closer to the bedroom. The closest

flames were at least fifty meters further out last night and I can't just will

them away at all. The monsters are gone, but Little Angel won't leave this

room or my lap for anything. She won't even come out from under the

covers."

Hermione slipped her hand under the covers to run her fingers through

Gabrielle's hair.

"She's warm. Why didn't you say that?"

"I've tried to pull the covers off, but she insists. It's getting quite toasty

down there, let me tell you."

"Gabrielle? Gabby?"

Hermione waited for the little Veela to respond but received only silence

for her efforts. She slowly drew her fingernails lightly across Gabby's

back in a way she remembered her own mother doing years ago when

Hermione was just a quivering ball in her Mum's lap.

"Harry? Have you been having a pillow fight?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's been at least a week since we had one of

those." Harry looked up to Hermione's face from the little space heater in

his lap. "Why?"

Hermione held up her hand, palm up.

"I think her pillow's been torn open... maybe the mattress."

Here and there along Hermione's fingers were little tufts of downy white

feathers.

"Well, I'll just fix her bedding right up... as soon as she let's me get out

from under her."

There was a light grunt from under the covers.

"That's a 'no' then, is it, Gabby?"

Another grunt.

"Looks like I'm not going anywhere tonight then."

"Right."

"So."

"So?"

"Pretty please, tell me about my Mum? You've been reading that journal,

right?"

Hermione moved a little closer to Harry so she could run her fingers

along his back.

"Oh, I like your Mum, Harry. At eleven, she was just like me!"

Harry smiled. "Really?"

"Welllllll. She may have been a bit more social than I was... had a friend

in the girl's dorm right off... but she was definitely the bookwormy know-

it-all of Gryffindor for her year!"

"Brilliant! Surely Mum would have approved of you then, right?"

Hermione didn't say anything, but her eyes were getting suspiciously

bright.

"Right?"

"You... you really think so?"

"Mum would have adored you. I'm sure of it. I'd bet my life on it if I still

had one."

Hermione's head dropped onto Harry's shoulder.

"What about Dumbledore, then? He said you had a question and he's

finally willing to answer it."

Harry creased his brow in thought. "I find it odd that he wants to answer

that question now."

"Which question was it?"

"I asked him why Voldemort wanted me dead. Remember, the bastard

went through my Mum to get to me that night, it wasn't the other way

around."

"Oh... oh, right! That is an important question. But how can we trust him

now? Whatever his answer, it most likely involves the two of us returning

to Hogwarts."

"Not bloody well happening."

"Language."

"Yes, 'Mione."

"Well?"

"I'm dead. As far as I'm concerned, the answer to that question is

meaningless now."

"And your Mum's journals?"

"That's assuming he even plans to hand over more than he already has.

No. Mum's journal is his carrot. Right now I'm weary of what he'll use for

a stick."

For the next several hours, the teenaged witch spent her time either

silently watching the hypnotic beauty of Gabby's dream-fire or quietly

telling Harry about little snippets of his mother's first year at Hogwarts.

-o\O/o-

Hermione walked into the front parlor of the Delacour family maison-

forte. After Bern, Alain felt sufficiently threatened to tighten up the

family defenses again.

"Mum?" Emma, Daniel, Apolline and Alain were all sitting around a

coffee table and watched as Hermione came into the room.

"Good morning, dear." Emma replied, a steaming cup of coffee in her

hand.

"Morning, Mum. Dad. Aunty Apolline. Uncle Alain. What... what can I do

for you this morning?"

"When we were walking through Bern on our first day there, your father

and I had pretty much decided to go back to England and get back to

work at the practice." Emma saw Hermione's eyes open wider and her

chest draw in enough air to deliver an hour long retort. "BUT... but, when

we learned what had happened to you and the girls in the I.C.W.

chambers... well, plans can change."

Hermione visibly relaxed, but her heart was still hammering from the

quick adrenaline burst she got at her mother's announcement.

"Now, if we combine all of the things we have read in the Prophet with

the fact that unidentified mercenaries and English magical police officers

attacked you in the heart of the magical U.N. building... well."

Hermione's father picked up where her mother let off.

"Add to that a headmaster that clearly doesn't care about our opinion

when it comes to your schooling, one who won't hesitate to use magic on

our property without asking for permission and the answer is clear. We

can't go back. Not to our house and not to our practice."

"Your parents are right to be worried, Hermione." Apolline spoke up.

"With only a simple charm, your parents could be signing papers giving

Albus Dumbledore full guardianship over you. Under British Magical law,

he could even write up a betrothal agreement in your name... a magically

enforced betrothal not unlike the contract that forced Harry to participate

in the Triwizard even though he never entered."

Hermione's reaction to that was clear for all to see. Magically enforced

arranged marriages that could entrap Hermione herself were far worse

than house elf slavery ever was. They hit much closer to home.

She almost threw up at the idea.

"Please please please Mum, don't go back!"

Emma got up and helped to steady her faltering daughter.

"We won't be going back, dear. I don't know how hard it's going to be

opening a practice near Beauxbatons or in Marseille, but I'm not letting

you get away from us this time."

"I'm with your mother on this, Little Em." Hermione took a moment from

being horrified at the thought of being magically forced to marry a boy

she didn't like, much less love, to be embarrassed about her childhood

nickname. "Next time you find yourself chasing time dragons or fighting

giant acid spitting toads or crushing on deceased internationally famous

teen superheroes, I want you to tell me about it face to face as soon as

you wake up in the magical hospital or at the very latest during the

victory feast honoring your battle or whatnot."

Hermione stared uncomprehendingly at her dad.

"Don't look at me like that. That's exactly what's going to happen! I can

see the trend. Can't you see the trend?"

Hermione began to giggle. "Actually... -snicker- ...I can!"

Hermoine almost bust her gut open during the resulting tension killing

giggle-fit.

"Bloody Hell-"

"Language!" "Language!"

"So -snort- sorry. But I can see the trend! Oh, Harry! Even dead, trouble

follows you like a lovesick puppy."

-o\O/o-

"…little angel…"

…

"Gabrielle. Are you coming down for lunch?"

She didn't want to.

"Mmmnnnnn."

It was a start. That's more than Zoé got out of Little Angel when she was

tasked with retrieving the girl for lunch.

"Little Angel," Fleur stepped into her sister's room and crossed the distance

to a girl sized lump under the comforter on Gabby's bed. "Have you been

in bed all morning? How do you expect to do well in your magic lesson this

afternoon if you can't even get up for lunch?"

Gabby wasn't listening. She was hot and her head hurt and her back was

itchy and her tummy just didn't want anything in it right now. She felt a

weight settle nearby and the covers began to shift.

"Come Little Angel, how can you possibly stay in bed any-"

Gabby heard her sister stop talking as soon as a cool, soothing hand met

her bare neck.

"Gabby! You're burning up! How long have you felt like this?"

Gabby didn't answer. She burrowed deeper under her covers looking for

just the right spot.

Her bed shifted again as her sister's weight left the bed. She may have

heard footsteps leading away, but she wasn't really paying attention.

Gabby repeated her performance with only minor variations when Fleur

brought Momma in with her a few minutes later.

-o\O/o-

"Welcome back, Misses McGonagall."

"A pleasure to be back, dear." The Scottish transfiguration mistress

banished the last of the soot off of her robes and gave Hermione a quick

hug. "Where's the wee one? Have I lost her interest so quickly?"

"Oh, no. She's taken ill."

Minerva was about to reply when the voices and footsteps of two women

could be heard approaching from the hallway..

Apolline entered the foyer to meet Minerva but she wasn't alone. Another

woman… another Veela followed her out of the hallway and up to

Hermione and Minerva..

As introductions were made, Hermione had to hide her jealousy over the

unfairness of genetics and magical inheritance. Madame Régine

Mitterrand. Gabby's grand-mère. The beautiful woman in front of her was

Gabby and Fleur's grandmother. Her hair was as lustrous as Apolline's

and her skin equally flawless. She moved with grace, energy and power.

Did Veela never fall prey to old age? The woman had to be in her mid

fifties and yet could pass for Apolline's older sister. Her early thirty-

something year old sister. Hermione suddenly found herself wondering

why there aren't more Veela in the world if even the old ones look this

good.

"Madame Mitterrand. Auntie Apolline. How is Gabby?" Asked Hermione.

One minor mark against Apolline's mother was that she did not speak

English. It was a very minor mark considering that aside from French, the

woman did speak Italian, German and Greek. Régine apparently was very

active amongst European Veela communities and needed to speak the

languages spoken by most of her fellow grand matrons.

Unfortunately, Minerva was still learning French. She might catch some

of the conversation, but would have to wait until later to hear from

Hermione any of the interesting bits.

"Little Angel is being stubborn. She has the symptoms of Veela maturation, but

this is not her tenth summer. Your daughter is a very early bloomer, Apolline."

"I beg your pardon, Madame... but... you make that sound bad. I've seen eight

year old girls get their periods before even if it is early. Is this unexpected for a

Veela child?" Hermione wanted to sound respectful yet at the same time

curiosity was eating her alive. Could 'The Talk' actually be that different

for Fleur and Gabby than is was for Hermione?

Régine's eyes bored into the teenaged witch.

"For your information, Miss Granger, all Veela become fertile in their tenth

summers. Certain abilities and physical changes coincide with fertility in Veela

just as they do in any human female. Have you seen anything unusual about

Gabrielle, Miss Granger? Some change in the way she has been acting around

you?" This was no mere pop quiz.

"Well… with the trouble in Bern only two days ago, I thought Gabby was just

reacting naturally to how she attacked those men… but there are a couple of

things." Hermione paused. What did she know about Veela puberty? She

may know more about Veela than any student in Hogwarts, but this was

different.

"Go on dear. Anything could help." Régine's voice was gentle and

supportive.

"To begin with… Gabby won't let Harry back outside."

Régine looked at her daughter for an explanation.

"Harry Potter, Maman. Little Angel can carry his spirit inside of her body.

They call it 'being inside'."

Régine looked back over to Hermione. "And she won't let him out?

"She's needs him. He comforts her. Her dreams have been full of blue fire for

the past two nights and she's quite scared of it."

"How do you- no. What color was the fire in Gabrielle's dreams?"

"Blue-white, just like the flames she creates during her wand magic lessons."

"Her fire isn't red or orange?" Régine's brow rose slightly upon hearing the

color of Gabrielle's magical fire.

Apolline started. Hermione wondered if she had just realized that fact

herself.

"I'm terribly sorry, Maman. I should have sent word before."

"Do not worry yourself over it. No one expects such a thing to happen."

"Pardon me, but what does that mean?" Hermione was getting flustered.

Apolline and her mother were acting as though there were something

seriously wrong with Little Angel.

"Along with the physical changes that we go through, young Veela dream of

the fire they wield in anger. It will become a standard theme in her dreams for

many years to come. I should have noticed. I thought it was due to her young

age that Gabrielle cast in blue-white. When Fleur first learned, her flames were

red as were mine when I was younger. Over time the flames will change from

red to orange as a Veela get's more control of her abilities… but blue-white…

it's …"

"It's only to be found in myth."

Hermione could not decide if Régine was trying to convince Apolline of

her way of thinking or if she was now uncomfortable discussing Veela

heritage in front of non-Veela.

"But, Maman-"

"Hush, child. It's too early to say one way or another. Apolline, see to your

daughter. I have friends to call on. When I return, I'd very much like to speak

to this Potter boy that means so much to Gabrielle."

"Yes, Maman."

"I may not be alone when I return."

"Yes, Maman."

Hermione watched as Madame Mitterrand made her excuses and floo'd

back to her home, but the teen's mind was upstairs with Gabby and

Harry. What would flame color matter to a Veela? Did color mean the

same thing to magical fire as it did to normal fire? Did Gabby's very

young age make a difference? Was it safe for Hermione to learn this

much about Veela? Régine did not seem overly pleased that Hermione

was asking questions.

Maybe she could ask Fleur for advice... and a little more background on

Veela. Surely at least one of the Delacour family libraries had a tome or

two written by Veela for Veela.

Someone cleared their throat.

"Oh, Misses McGonagall!"

"Whatever it was, it must have been something good for you to forget I

was even here, dear." Minerva had to fight to keep her smirk hidden.

"I- I'm terribly sorry! Madame Mitterrand was discussing Gabby's illness

with Apolline. She made it sound like something to do with Veela

puberty... but then Gabby's grandmother went off to get a second opinion

or two."

"Transfiguring little Veela into big ones is not a process I know anything

about, Miss Granger. I do, however, know how to cast the Patronus

charm. After seeing Mister Potter cast that one, I dare say you might

want to give it a try."

"Oh, yes!"

Maybe Hermione could set aside the mystery of Veela biology for an hour

or two.

"Mister Potter told you about his lessons with Professor Lupin, didn't he,

child?"

Hermione nodded eagerly.

"So you know all about finding positive thoughts then, don't you?"

Hermione kept nodding.

"I seem to remember seeing a picture in the paper of a very special kiss,

Miss Granger. Perhaps you might want to try with that one?"

Hermoine blushed hard. If positive emotions were the key to a Patronus

charm, then that kiss would do very well. That kiss... or the savage

snogging that followed in her dreams that night. Maybe both.

Two hours later, dinner was served. Hermione was kept from asking

Fleur discrete questions about the Veela life cycle by the timely and

energetic interruption of one Segolene Royal. Segolene could not stay

away any longer knowing that her second family was hurting from

magical ambush and an unexpected illness.

Segolene almost paid more attention to Gabrielle's quiet, bedridden form

than her very dearest friend Fleur. With all of the other recent events to

deal with, no one found time to tease Hermione about a certain Hogwarts

uniform or how it could be altered to best effect.

-o\O/o-

A door opened in the soft light of Gabrielle's bedroom. Interior lights had

been extinguished as unnecessary; the fires were close enough and big

enough to provide plenty of light to Harry and his little space heater.

"My poor, poor Little Angel. Are you really growing up early as your

mother fears?"

Gentle footfalls came up behind Gabby's protector.

"How's Little Angel tonight, Harry?"

"She's toastier. She shivers more. She must be tearing into a pillow down

there what with all of the down that I keep pulling out after stroking her

back and scalp. She hasn't talked to me all day."

"Not even here?"

Hermione tried to lift up a corner of the comforter to take a peek at

Gabby only to stop when a delicate hand pushed her away.

"Gabby, luv. Speak to me, please?"

Hermione bent herself low. Hopefully her mouth was somewhere around

Gabby's ear beneath the covers.

"Please, honey. I only want to help."

There was a pitiful little moan, but little else.

"You didn't have dreams like this when you... er... got bigger, did you?

'Mione?"

"..." Hermione's glare was answer enough.

"Right. Shutting up now."

Righteous anger fell away at Harry's quick surrender.

"I'm not a Veela, in case you didn't notice..."

"Could have fooled me." Point to Potter.

Hermione smiled and started again. "As I was saying, I'm no Veela, but I

don't remember any particular dreams coinciding with that point of my

life. I can also say that I've never heard of anyone relating certain dreams

to it."

"Fair enough. Did you get anymore out of Fleur?"

Hermione blushed bright red at that.

"Depends..."

"Depends on what, 'Mione? You did a fair job of giving us an update

before following Fleur and Segolene back to Fleur's room. I know it was

starting to get late then, but they don't strike me as the type to make an

early night of it after being apart for so long."

"Well... they weren't asleep yet, but I didn't learn anything that we can

use to help Gabrielle."

"Well, what did you learn then?"

Hermione's blush turned several shades darker.

"I learned," Hermione nearly whispered as not to disturb the little girl

who's dream she was intruding upon, "that Fleur and Segolene are much

closer than we thought they were."

"What do you mean? I already know they're best mates."

Poor, clueless Harry.

Hermione did whisper the next bit. "I mean that they were being intimate

with each other."

No reaction.

"Physically intimate... there was naked touching, Harry."

Hermione felt like her face would catch fire any moment now. Harry's

eyes bugged out and his jaw fell open. Harry slowly turned his head to

the door.

"Harry James Potter! You will not sneak into Fleur's room to perv on

them! Is. That. Clear?"

"Crystal. Have I mentioned lately what a wonderful, incredible and

beautiful young woman you are Hermione? Really. I love you to bits."

How did she figure out how to yell while whispering? That's his 'Mione,

brilliant but scary.

End Chapter

Reviews or some of them anyway...

Everyone who reviewed Chapter Seven: Why won't any of you say that

my work needs more cowbell?

Before anyone comments: Harry really isn't ready to just hop out of

Gabby and bond with Sirius and Remus right now and Hermione doesn't

need a dogfather quite yet, so I'm betting the old dog will bide his time in

French nightclubs... maybe a brothel.

Dumbledore truly believes he's the only one that understands how to

defeat the coming darkness. I believe he was the same way in canon.

With things so out of hand, I'm guessing he may get a bit more desperate

than he was in canon.

Dantrag-tc - Harry's scene last chapter was like the one with Krum

earlier. It's not really the mortal plain, so Harry can appear solid. It won't

be the last time Harry does this for some poor soul either.

Arashihawk – I agree that it would be a good idea for the British

Ministry to do a little house cleaning, but do you think Fudge and Malfoy

are going to want that?

deitarion/SSokolow – You could also call it the "end your chapter with

something that keeps your own interest up" approach. Death Eaters are

killing people, but it's all off-screen so to speak. I wanted a little action

and I wanted to show Gabby as someone who has the potential to win

the whole thing without having pass her N.E.W.T.s first.

Isaac Prewett – Funny you should mention Gabby's avian form. Expect

Gabby's first change next chapter.

Mionefan – I always liked the explanation that a prophecy is worthless

unless someone believes it. Unfortunately Dumbledore drank the Kool-

Aid a long time ago, therefore anyone under his influence is subject to his

interpretation of said prophecy. Why can't he just keep re-killing

snakeface while going after Horcruxes? Or... or put him away in some

Dark Lord proof prison to serve four thousand consecutive life sentences?

Would he survive getting chucked through the Veil because he has

Horcruxes? I think the best rule to go by here is 'the best defense is a

good offense' but Dumbles never seems to agree.

fledge – Thank you for actually reading Dumbles differently than most

other reviewers. I am adding a bit of senility and manipulation, but I also

have him in a bad spot where his much loved Greater Good is wavering

on the edge and could easily fall to darkness. By his way of thinking, he

simply has no choice in the matter if the prophecy is to have a happy

ending. Oh, and just because Sirius is lusting after Fleur doesn't mean

she'll return those feelings. Fleur/Sirius lovers should not get their hopes

up. Are there really any Fleur/Sirius fans? I do believe I've never seen

that pairing before.

10. Angel

Insert standard legal disclaimer and boilerplate notes here.

The Little Veela that Could

Chapter Nine: Angel

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning, Fleur... Segolene."

Hermione sat down at the breakfast table and picked up a newspaper.

"You have a letter, Hermione. Looks like it was written by a boy to me."

Hermione looked up from an article on local tourism to see Segolene

sporting a little grin. "If I am not mistaken, the seal is Bulgarian."

"Really?" Hermione looked across the table to see a letter sitting where

Alain always puts post after he's screened it for tricks and traps.

There was one letter sitting alone in the middle of the table with a bright

red wax seal affixed. In the middle of the red wax was a magically

colored image of two lions on either side of a shield with a third lion on

it. Under the coat of arms was a wand crossing a broom. Segolene was

right; that was a Bulgarian Ministry of Magic seal.

Before the two older teens could start teasing Hermione about a certain

Triwizard Champion, the youngest member of their household shuffled

into the room and dropped into her chair.

"Good morning, Gabrielle." Fleur greeted her little sister. "It's good to see

you get out of bed on your own today. Are you feeling better?"

"Don't look at me." Gabby's reply was short and distinctly uncute.

Hermione immediately looked at Gabby, Bulgarian post forgotten for the

moment. This was a day to remember for all time. Gabrielle wasn't the

least bit cute. In fact, the eight year old looked like someone had given

her food poisoning and kicked her puppy.

Hermione instinctively put a hand over her gaping mouth. After a

moment of pure shock, Hermione pulled her eyes away from Gabby's evil

twin just long enough to check Fleur's and Segolene's reactions. The

white-blonde elder sister was looking on with pity. She must have been

there before. Curly brunette streamers shook as Segolene tried

desperately to hide her amusement.

"Oh, Fleur, I..." Segolene almost lost her control and had to start again.

"Oh, Fleur... I remember when the same thing happened to you!"

Hermione looked back at Little Angel, as Segolene continued. "Why, you

were a complete stranger for a week or so until I got my best friend back

again. You know... until I saw you get sick and lose your Princessiness for a

week, I wasn't really sure that you were human at all."

That comment brought Hermione around. Honestly, she was grateful for

an excuse to focus on something other than anti-Gabby.

"What do you mean? Why would seeing Fleur fall ill make you think that

Fleur wasn't human before?"

As Segolene composed herself, Fleur moved around to her sister's side

and began the thankless task of getting a sick eight year old to pick out a

food she might both eat and not heave onto the floor ten minutes later.

"You see, Hermione... Fleur and I have known each other since we were three.

Fleur and her parents were there for there for me and my mother when Father

was killed. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I loved Fleur as dearly as a

sister by my seventh birthday and I've loved Gabrielle just as much since she

was born..."

This much of the story Hermione had heard before in bits and pieces; but

this time, all of it was only background for a new fact – a detail that

seemed important for whatever it was that's been happening to Gabrielle.

"Now as much as I loved her and her family, I still didn't believe that Veela

were human back then. Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate Fleur's family or

anything- but they were like walking talking unicorns to me."

Segolene stopped to take a croissant off of the platter before her and cut it

open.

"As I was a little girl, I thought of Veela as pretty magical creatures right out

of any muggle Fairy Tale. And my friend Fleur, my friend Fleur was like a

magical forest animal princess. You see, I had already been told that when she

got bigger, Fleur would be able to change into a birdlike creature and use

fire... I even took to calling her 'Bird Princess' in my diary."

"Father claims he called me his Princess first, but Segolene here truly spread it

around." So Fleur was listening along.

Hermione heard the warmth in Fleur's interruption; the emotion present

brought an image to the front of Hermione's mind of two young women

so wrapped up in each other that neither one acknowledged the English

witch stumble into their bedchamber and then leave in a panicked rush.

She felt like she knew secrets… things she wasn't meant to know. For her

new extended family, Hermione would gladly keep these secrets.

"As I was saying, it wasn't until just after Fleur's ninth birthday... her tenth

summer as Veela keep track of time... that I ever saw her fall ill."

"Fall ill... like Gabby?" Hermione remembered Régine saying that all Veela

become fertile in their tenth summers. That would make Fleur normal for

a Veela, right?

"Yes, just like Gabby now. You must understand that I had never seen Fleur or

any of her Veela family members fall ill before. Veela don't catch other

illnesses like the flue or dragon pox. As a little girl, I was ill several times a

year, just like nearly every girl or boy I knew... that made Veela different

enough to my little mind that Fleur couldn't be human. She was a perfect

magical Princess and far too good to be sick like me. You see? She couldn't be

human."

"But then you saw her go through this..." Hermione tried her hand at calling

out the next line in Segolene's story.

Hermione looked over to Fleur and Gabby. Was Fleur actually playing

airplane with a spoon full of broth? Gabby's eyebrows were scrunched

together and she was fighting Big Sissy Flower with a tightly closed

mouth and defiant moans.

"And then I saw her go through this. Exactly. No longer was Fleur Delacour

the most perfect princess ever to prance through enchanted forests and flutter

about the Fey courts. For the first time, I saw a sick little girl who was grumpy

and in pain and who would paint the floor with her sick before the house elves

could catch it all." Segolene sighed. "Of all the girls who had been part of our

circle of friends before Fleur changed... I am the only one that remains faithful

to this day."

Hermione began sifting through all that she just learned.

"And this happened a full year later for Fleur?"

"Gabby is the early one. I think one or two other girls in our classes were also

starting to fill out when Fleur started, but I'm quite sure this puts Gabby ahead

of the curve for hers. As bad as that will be for her, the real problem is her

thrall. It will be years before she gets any reasonable level of control over it.

Every boy in her school will soon become stupid at random frequent intervals.

The other girls are going to get horribly jealous of her very soon."

"Poor, poor Little Angel. She's such a sweet girl. Losing all of her friends is

going to be a personal hell for her without someone to carry her though it all."

"She does have a friend who can and will carry her through. Harry."

"Ah, but he is a boy and he is a ghost. She needs girls her age that will

continue to grow with her... girls like-" Segolene's face shifted into a wide

grin. "Like Gigi."

"And Aimee? Can we get those two to come for a visit? Even if their parents

know Gabby is ill?"

Hermione saw the potential. Gigi and Aimee may not be as close to

Gabby as Segolene was to Fleur, but if they could learn to see Gabby the

same way Segolene sees Fleur then Gabby would get two very good

friends indeed. Through most of primary school, Hermione would have

given her right leg for a good friend. She was alone and seemingly

doomed to stay that way until the threat of losing her right leg to a troll

worked well enough to give her a friend in Harry Potter.

"I'll talk to Apolline about it." Segolene murmured. "In the mean time… what

news from Bulgaria?"

Both witches looked down to the wax sealed letter resting by Hermione's

hand.

Soon enough, Hermione had the wax seal broken and the letter unfolded

before her. As she began to read, Segolene slipped around the table and

began to read over her shoulder.

"Well? What does Vic have to say?"

Fleur asked this as she came back into the room from dealing with her

sickly sister. The airplane game didn't work. Fleur had to threaten her

sister with calling for their mother before Gabby would consent to

sipping some broth through a straw… in front of a television… under a

blanket Zoé had to fetch from their home in Paris.

"He's recovering well. Vic has been up and walking on his own for a week

now. The healers expect him to be able to fly again by December."

"Do they say when they will let him rejoin his team?" Fleur may not be a true

fan of the sport, but she did want Victor to be happy doing what he was

born to do.

"No… but Vic is inviting the three of us to spend time in his home town.

Apparently he fears that he will forget all the English he learned since the

beginning of the year unless he can find someone worth talking to." Hermione

set down the letter. Fleur immediately picked up the discarded letter and

read it herself.

"Hmmmm… Vic is being a good boy." Fleur began to parse the letter

looking for hidden meaning. "His words are warm and positive… he does

not make demands nor is there anything really amorous. He invites all three of

us, not just Hermione."

Segolene interrupted. "He wishes to maintain his English? He does not

mention learning French?"

Hermione blushed when both French witches immediately turned to her.

"I love Harry."

"Of course you do, 'ermione. We all know zis. I'm sure even Victor knows

too. What 'e does not know is zat it is not safe for you to travel. Perhaps

we could ask 'im to come protect zree fair damsels from ze dark wizards,

no?"

"Just think. Ced and Vic won't know what hit them when they see our Miss

Granger in Beauxbatons blue!" Segolene gasped. "I almost forgot! Where's

your old uniform, Hermione? I know what we're doing today!"

-o\O/o-

Zoé popped into the room.

"Madame. Your husband has come home with a guest."

"Thank you, Zoé. Please see how Dobby is doing in the kitchen."

"As you wish, Madame."

As the house elf popped away, Apolline set down the scroll she had been

reading and looked at the three young witches who were making use of

the family library.

"Girls? Please see to it that Mister Diggory is introduced to our other guests.

Dinner should begin in half an hour."

One 'yes, mother' and two 'yes, auntie's later, Fleur, Segolene and

Hermione left the room. As they were leaving, Apolline listened in as the

girls planned out their evening.

"You two go boil Ced's blood. I'll just make sure your parents and Sirius don't

die when they see you. Forewarned is forearmed!" Segolene turned opposite

the other two after crossing the threshold.

"You do that! Fleur? Perhaps you should grab the leash now."

"Thank you. Is the collar too tight?"

"No tighter than your choker." As the girls continued to walk away from

Apolline, the tak-tak-tak of Fleur's stiletto heels almost masked their

voices. "You're, um… you're sure we shouldn't change again before dinner?

Our parents are going to be at the table."

"Please… Mother won't bat an eyelash. Not only is she Veela, but she is a

patron of the performing arts. If anything, she will critique our work and say if

we have any promise for stage or screen. Father will use our fun to test

Cedric."

"Dad's going to have a heart attack." Apolline could hear the nervous

tension in Hermione's voice.

"Good thing he's in a house full of witches then. We'll fix him up, good as

new." There was a short pause. "Let's get into character. We want Harry to

truly appreciate his birthday present, don't we?"

"As you wish, my Dark Mistress."

Apolline was slightly unnerved by Fleur's imperious laughter. Good. It

had been too long since Fleur really lost herself in a role. Now that her

older girls were off to entertain, Apolline set down the centuries old

parchment scroll she had been looking over. There was still more than a

week to the next full moon, and if Gabby were traveling down the path

she looked to be traveling, many questions would be answered on that

evening. Surely her Maman would know what was happening and how

best to react.

Apolline went to fetch her youngest and the birthday boy.

Gabrielle was, true to her recent behavior, lounging in the one room of

their oldest and most enchanted family home which was completely

modern. Cartoons needed watching and soda needed slurping. Sick little

girls deserved a little spoiling, didn't they?

Imagine her surprise, when, for the first time in days, Apolline found

Harry next to Gabby instead of inside of her.

"Harry? How are you this evening?"

Harry turned around. He wouldn't miss anything important as he'd seen

this episode of Rugrats with Gabby at least a dozen times already since

the beginning of summer.

"I'm well, Auntie. Our Little Angel seems to be in a sugar coma of sorts,

but she's been much better today. I might actually get to spend a few

hours with the rest of you." The ghost in front of Apolline looked

thoughtful for a moment. "I should apologize to the others for ignoring

them for so long... everyone's getting ready for dinner, right?"

"My dear Harry. You do so much for Gabrielle... and on your birthday no

less... you have nothing to apologize for."

Harry looked down into the glazed eyes of little Gabby. Her mouth was

hanging open, her cheeks and forehead were warm red and a nose goblin

was attempting to escape its prison.

On the plus side, she had regained some of her adorable cuteness even in

ill health. Fleur and Virginie even got Little Angel into a bath earlier

today much to the eight year old's annoyance. In truth, cute-zombie

Gabby was much preferable to the grumpy-demon Gabby of the past

several days.

Apolline considered the improvements. Maybe this week she would invite

Gabby's two friends over as Fleur had suggested. It would serve the girl

right after what she did. The nerve of that little monster telling her own

mother that she had a big butt. Apolline still hadn't gotten over it.

"Er, Auntie?" Harry looked a bit uncertain.

"Yes, Harry?"

"This illness... It won't hurt Gabby's birthday celebration, will it?"

Apolline smiled. How he doted on her Little Angel. Boy-Who-Lived or

not, she would have loved to call this one son.

"Oh, no. Her birthday is on the eighteenth. Of course... if Gabby's illness

is what we think it is, then it will overshadow her birthday a good bit."

"If you don't mind my asking, what do you think is happening? If... if that

is... if non-Veela are allowed to know." Harry hoped he hadn't stepped

out of bounds, especially on such a non-boy topic, but this was Gabby

that things were happening to.

Apolline considered her options for a moment. Dinner was drawing near,

but she still had a few minutes.

"You must understand, Harry, that we trust you... and Hermione as well...

and we are willing to tell you things that are not to leave the family. You

deserve to know certain things because you are close to us, but these are

things we do not wish to become public knowledge. Secrets, Harry."

"'Mione and I are quite good at keeping secrets. I swear that whatever it

is you say will not leave this house."

Apolline knew this would be his answer, of course, and she accepted his

answer without hesitation.

"Well. I suspect you've heard from Hermione what I and my mother said

to her, yes?" Harry nodded.

"Gabby is showing signs of becoming mature. It may happen on the full

moon before her birthday... the full moon on the tenth."

Apolline sat down next to her daughter and began to run her fingers

through the girl's hair.

"If she does mature as this illness of hers is indicating – a full year early I

might add – then she will release her thrall for the first time, change her

physical form for the first time, and cast true Veela fire for the first

time... all under the effects of the full moon. Now don't mistake this for

some were-beast transformation, Harry; the full moon nearest her

birthday is a trigger that will only occur once in any Veela's life."

"You said the timing was off. Didn't you tell 'Mione that Gabby's flames

were the wrong color too?"

Apolline nodded. "I did. How much do you know about color

temperature? The science of heat?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I didn't get that far in

my muggle education and Hogwarts doesn't cover anything like that. I

bet Hermione knows."

"I'm sure she does." Apolline smiled. "Back to your question… there are

things about Gabby's maturation, if that's what it is, that don't make any

sense. First, she's a whole year early. We expected this to happen in

August, but it was supposed to be next August."

"But why does that matter?"

Apolline looked over to Gabrielle. She still appeared insensate. That

would have to change soon.

"We are Veela, Harry. We are humans… but we have a magical avian side

that can reveal itself at times. Our life cycles do not have the same

variations that you see in other human races. While we can be intimate

with our lovers at any time, Veela are only truly at risk of conceiving in

the fall."

Apolline stopped at Harry's confused stare. It couldn't be… could it?

"Concieving. Becoming pregnant. We always give birth the following

summer."

Harry didn't let being dead stop him from blushing heavily. Apolline was

wondering, not for the first time, how badly the adults in Harry's life had

failed him.

"Ten summers later, when the young Veela are within a month of their

birthday, they mature. This isn't to say that they grow all of their curves

overnight, but they do start to grow out rather than just up. Are you with

me so far, Harry?"

The young ghost nodded.

"So now that we have established that Gabby is early, we must consider

her other change."

"Fire."

"Exactly. And this is the part I expect Hermione may already

understand… or at least be suspicious of." Apolline was conscious of her

time limit. Dinner was fast approaching. It would be best to give him the

short version. "You see, in nature… it's mostly seen in non-magical nature

but also in magical nature as well… you can get an idea of the energies

released in fire if you look at the color of its light.

"Think of red as being at the low end of this spectrum. A lit candle is red.

Above that is orange. Think of a household incandescent lightbulb. That

lightbulb is roughly half again as hot as a candle going by the light it

emits. More powerful lights like what you find in a factory or a parking

lot or a stadium use more energy to light up those larger spaces; they are

much hotter than that single candle and give off yellow, white or even

blue light. Think of yellow as twice as hot, white as three or four times as

hot and blue as five or more times as hot as red.

"If heat is a form of energy, which it is… and if that energy is present in

Veela fire, which it is, then one could infer that Gabrielle's blue-white fire

is four to five times more powerful than we expect it to be a year earlier

than we expect to see it."

Harry was silent.

"That's not even taking into account the volume of fire one can create. It's

hard enough for the average young Veela to light a candle on purpose,

much less turn half of an I.C.W. waiting room to ash in minutes."

Harry remained silent. He didn't know what to say…

"But enough of such things. Maman will sort it all out and Gabrielle will

make us all very proud." Apolline shook off the serious mood and

smirked at Harry. "You have chosen a good night to rejoin the household,

Harry. Cedric Diggory is visiting and the girls have arranged a little

surprise, both for your birthday and for his arrival."

"A surprise, Auntie?"

"Segolene got her hands on Hermione's Hogwarts uniform. Didn't

Hermione tell you?"

"Why, no. No, she didn't."

"I think you will like the results, Harry. There is a reason Little Angel is

dressed up tonight too."

Just as Harry's curiosity was peaking and his ghostly patience was

wearing thin, Apolline completely ignored him in favor of bringing

Gabrielle out of her stupor. That bitch.

-o\O/o-

Tak-Tak-Tak

Hermione first saw Cedrc as she and Fleur rounded a corner to enter

Alain's study. The two wizards were talking about something or other

until Cedric saw the two witches join them. At that point, Cedric's mouth

continued to move but nothing came out.

Alain went quiet soon after.

"They're staring, slave. If there is anything wrong with my dress, you will

suffer for it. Look me over."

With her father and their guest frozen in place, Fleur dropped Hermione's

leash and spun slowly in place.

Hermione pretended to observe her 'mistress' but it was hard to suppress

her laughter at seeing Cedric's open shock. At the very least, she could

keep up the act until Alain chooses to intervene.

Apparently it was easier to shrug off a Veela when she was wearing her

school uniform or Triwizard robes than it was when she was wearing a

colorful flower print cheongsam with short sleeves, cloth so tight it must

have been painted on and a slit up one side which revealed an amazing

amount of thigh. Fleur's hair was pulled into a bun with just enough hair

escaping at just the right places that Hermione was reminded of birds in

flight. Fleur was also fourteen centimeters taller than usual due a rather

aggressive looking pair of heels.

"You are flawless as always, Mistress."

"Then it must be you. Turn."

Hermione obediently twirled in place. Her own hair was wild, but not

bushy. Her shoes were a play on the traditional Mary Janes with shiny

silver buckles and heels that were high but not stripper high. Everything

in between was the hottest Hogwarts uniform Cedric had ever oggled.

Her neck sported a shiny red collar with gold buttons and a matching red

leash. Hermione's cloak was cut to stop just below the elbows and spread

wide open in the front. She wore a dirty white blouse with the sleeves

rolled up and half of the buttons undone. Her Gryffindor tie was loosely

knotted just low enough to help highlight a bit of red and gold fabric

held tight to her bosom. Below the partially un-tucked blouse was a

pleated skirt torn ragged at mid thigh. The skirt displayed Gryffindor

colors in a tartan hatch. Her knee high socks were artistically stained and

torn. By contrast, Hermione's hair and skin were spotlessly clean.

"You're posture is abysmal! " Fleur barked.

Hermione snapped to attention, thrusting her shoulders back and chest

out. She apologized.

"I am sorry, my Mistress. Shall I ask Mistress Royal to take her time with

the cane tonight?"

"After Lord Black 'as 'ad 'is fill of you, of course."

"Of course, Mistress."

Alain finally snapped out of it.

"Are you quite done tormenting Mister Diggory, girls? He's gone quite

pale, in case you haven't noticed."