Chapter 10: German

Harry gaped at the girl, there was just something about her that gave off a familiar feeling. It was hard to describe, but he felt this pull towards her, something he never remembered encountering before, yet he could not shake the feeling of deja vu. It washed over him in waves, simultaneously making him feel compelled to impress her, and an almost irresistible urge to boast arrogantly. Harry's mouth opened to do just that, but he shut it quickly. Pinching himself, he managed to shrug off his strange impulsive thoughts. And just like that, the tables turned, and now, the girl was staring at him with her jaw had dropped now. Harry took the opportunity to examine her critically. One thought instantly popped into his mind. Her appearance could be summed up with one word; perfect.

Flawless alabaster skin adored her face, with high cheekbones and sharp curves in all the right places. It couldn't have been sculpted out of marble better, not by the best artist in the world. Silver hair flowed down her back in a shimmering cascade. She had deep sky blue eyes that shined like sparkling sapphires, and her lips were a rosy red. Lips, he noticed that were moving rapidly, saying something with an urgency.

But before he could focus on her words, an explosion blasted him off his feet, and he once more felt himself lifted in the air, this time landing much harder, and going face first into the dirt. After a few seconds groaning in pain, Harry rolled himself over and got back to his feet. He felt something wet trickle down the side of his face slickly, but he ignored it. His head was pounding, and his ears were ringing from the explosion. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself together as best he could and took a look around. A car sized piece of molten rock had landed just a few feet from where he had been standing, leaving a four foot deep crater in its place. But that wasn't even the most astonishing thing he saw. As Harry looked up, his jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide as saucers.

Forks of lightning filled the formerly dark night sky, lighting up dark gray smoke clouds for as far as the eye could see. Bright orange plumes of lava burst forth from the mountain with powerful, awe inspiring ferocity, throwing up chunks of rock the size of houses, like they were mere specks of dirt. It was just about the most incredible, yet terrifying thing Harry had ever seen. As more chucks of flaming rock rained down around him, he realized that if he didn't get out of there soon, he wouldn't live to tell the tale. He turned to do just that, when he an almost inaudible groan of pain stopped him in his tracks.

Lying under a big slab of rock was the girl he had landed on earlier. What was her name? He was still dizzy from the blast, but he eventually remembered. It was Fleur. Not a bad name at all, he thought. But now she was unconscious, bleeding, and slowly being crushed. Harry didn't even hesitate. He ran over to her, dodging a few errant pieces of flaming rock falling from the sky, and whipped out his white willow wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, and the rock was blasted into the sky. Harry looked down at his wand confusedly, funny, he hadn't thought he had put that much power into the charm. A nearby explosion refocused him back on his task, so he put it out of his mind. Harry kneeled down, and hefted the girl onto his shoulders, fireman style. She was surprisingly light, almost alarmingly so, and Harry barely felt any strain on his calf muscles as he stood up with the girl splayed over his shoulders. Another explosion too close for comfort got him moving, and he ran as fast as he could away from the burning village.

Somehow, miraculously, Harry managed to make it out of town without being crushed, but he didn't stop there. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, or maybe it was because he was just sick of being blown off his feet all day, but he kept running. He ran and ran until his muscles were screaming in protest, but he refused to stop, and powered through his pain with sheer willpower. Harry kept running until his legs locked up in pain, and his feet refused to take another step. The still exploding mountain was just a speck in the distance now. He set Fleur down, and promptly collapsed in exhaustion. He was panting for breath, unable to move. He retched and heaved, but he had not had anything substantial to eat in a while, so it was doubly painful. His whole body was sore, and he felt utterly drained of energy. As soon as he managed to get his breath back, he curled up in a ball and passed out.

"Aaaaahh!" Harry woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. He felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, and his throat felt parched and drier than a desert. He had never been this thirsty before, and it left him feeling weak with sapped of all his strength. A different moan of pain that was not his own startled him. Harry looked over and noticed the girl he had saved. He had almost completely forgotten about her. Her pretty face was scrunched up in pain, so he crawled over to her. Gently taking her wrist, he felt for her pulse. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a normal rhythm. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, but every time she did, she winced. Harry guessed she probably had a few broken ribs from being crushed under that rock. He didn't know how to mend bones magically, and he didn't have any medical supplies to set them non-magically either.

Even if he did, Harry knew he was too weak from dehydration to do something like that right now. He didn't need his medical diploma to know that neither one of them would last much longer if he didn't manage to get some water soon. He cursed himself for not learning some sort of water summoning spell. Logically, Harry knew it was unreasonable to expect himself to have learned such advanced magic. Especially when he had had so little time to learn what all that he did from the Hogwarts library. He had been so focused on escaping, that when it came to what came after he escaped, he hadn't been concerned. He realized how short sighted that was now, but it was too late. Any rational excuse he could come up with sounded pathetic when his life was hanging in the balance.

He looked around desperately, but there was no river, pond or even a shallow puddle anywhere nearby. He collapsed back into the grass, trying to think of some way to save himself when he felt his hand touch something wet. Harry quickly sat up and looked at where his hand had touched the grass. The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, and the grass underneath him was moist with morning dew. "Of course!" he exclaimed, his voice coming out hoarse and scratchy. Harry ripped off a piece of fabric from his pants and wiped it through the grass, giggling deliriously when it came back soaked with water. Harry wringed the piece of cloth out into his mouth, sighing in relief as the water trickled down his parched throat. After he repeated this a few dozen times, he gradually felt his strength return. Eventually, he felt strong enough to stand, and he walked over to the girl and propped her up against the tree. He hadn't realized it yesterday, but when he had collapsed in exhaustion, they had taken cover underneath what had to be the largest willow tree he had ever seen. Its' wilting branches and drooping leaves stretching out for over a hundred meters. Seeing she was not too uncomfortable, Harry gently pried open her mouth and repeated the process, making sure she got some water in her system. Once she seemed satisfied, Harry set about seeing if he could help her broken ribs.

Harry had seen Mr. Goldstein treat dozens of wounds like this back before Harry had landed his cushy research job at the Francis Crick Institute. He smiled fondly remembering all the times Mr. Goldstein had brought him into the Hospital on take your child to work day. So much had happened since then, and it seemed like a lifetime ago now, even though not that much time had really passed. Harry wiped his eyes, trying hard not to think about the fate of his adoptive family. He would get his revenge one day, but that day was not today. He had more immediate problems at hand. Taking off his button down shirt, he pulled off his undershirt and wrapped it tightly around her chest, securing the broken ribs in place. He wouldn't be winning any fashion contests, but it would do the job. Once more feeling exhausted, he threw his regular shirt back on and bundled himself up as best he could before he once more fell asleep exhausted.

When he next woke up, the sun had gone down, and a starry sky twinkled down at him. He felt sore and terribly hungry, but still, quite a bit better than the day before. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" He heard a soft and melodious voice say. Harry sat up and turned around and found himself staring into those same sapphire eyes that had hypnotized him yesterday. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment, and he quickly looked away. She broke into giggles, which to Harry's mortification, he found soothingly sweet, like warm honey to the ears. Harry kept his eyes glued to the ground, but a few seconds later he felt a few slender fingers lift his chin up. She was only a few inches away from him now, and this close up, Harry could see in detail just how pretty she was. Her shining eyes, her shimmering hair, none of it was natural, it wasn't human… and yet, Harry did not feel bothered by that at all. And again he felt a nagging feeling of deja vu, but for the life of him he did not know why. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but before he could, he was silenced when she leaned in pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were soft, so very soft, and they tasted like the sweetest strawberries. Any questions he had been about to ask vanished from his mind, and Harry felt all the tension that had built up in his body over the past few days simply melt away, leaving him absolutely breathless. It might have been a second, a minute, or a lifetime later, but all too soon, she pulled away, and Harry was left gasping for breath. He must have had a shocked look on his face, because she put her hand to her mouth, trying but failing to stop herself from giggling. Harry's mouth opened and closed several times, but eventually he just settled for blushing deeply, making his face match his fiery ruby red hair. He stared wide eyed at her, completely bewildered, but secretly a bit pleased. Finally, he tried to speak again, but she effortlessly silenced him when one of her slender fingers covered his lips, cutting off his storm of questions. "Merci" she said as way of explanation before pointing to where his makeshift splint was still snugly secured.

Harry tried to wave it off. "Oh, that, it was no problem. Only doing my duty." She looked confused, and Harry remembered that she didn't speak English. Harry knew some very rudimentary french, just because he had been required to take a foreign language course at university. He had never thought he would have to use it again, so he was pretty rusty. Very hesitantly, he spoke in a very thickly accented and halting french. "You're welcome. Where… where are we?" She smiled brightly at him, and for some reason Harry felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. Before he could blink though, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. He tried to protest about her injury, but she didn't seem bothered by it at all. And before he knew what was happening, she had started walking, pulling him in a eastern direction. She looked back at him smiling brightly, laughing that musical laugh, and Harry couldn't help but laugh back, her happiness was infectious.

They continued that way for a long time, and Harry lost track of the time passing. It was such a strange experience, they barely said anything to each other, but Harry felt a growing and deep connection with his companion. Somehow, without barely exchanging but a few words, they understood each other, and Harry had never had so much fun just walking and being with someone. Before he knew it, they were standing on the outskirts of a small city. Harry blinked and looked around owlishly. He turned to Fleur to ask, but once more, words were not necessary. "Clermont-Ferrand" she said, nodding at a street sign that said just that. He smiled happily, having never been to any french city before.

They continued on for awhile, never letting go of each other's hands, until they reached a gas station. Luckily, the place was open 24/7. They walked inside and the teenager sitting behind the cash register's jaw dropped. Harry didn't blame him, they must have made quite a strange sight. Two kids wearing torn and ripped clothing, covered in blood, dirt and sweat. Fleur said something and the teenager, who had the name "Samuel" written on a name tag pinned to his chest, nodded dumbly before he handed her a telephone. Fleur thanked him, and the boy smiled back goofily. He made to say something, but fell out of his chair, smacking his head on the counter. Harry and Fleur glanced at each other before they burst out laughing together. When they eventually calmed down, they smiled shyly at each other.

Fleur dialed in a phone number, and Harry pretended not to eavesdrop. A few rings later someone picked up the phone. At first only silence answered her greeting, and then there was excited screaming, followed by extremely quick french that Harry had no chance of following. She hung up the phone and put it on the counter, as Samuel was still groaning and rubbing his head on the floor. They walked out of the store and went down the street to sit on a bench together, watching the sun slowly come over the horizon.

Tire screeching in the distance made them jump. They shared a brief look, before they both stood up. The noise got louder and closer, and Harry reached in his pocket to feel the comforting magic of his wand. It felt strangely hot to the touch. Finally, around a corner, at least a dozen black SUVs came speeding up to them, screeching to a halt just short of where they were standing, kicking up dust and sending them into coughing fits. By the time Harry could breathe properly again, the number of cars had doubled, and they were completely surrounded. Strangely, when Harry glanced over at Fleur, she seemed supremely unworried. So, following her lead, Harry tried to act casual despite the nervous butterflies in his stomach.

Out of one of the cars stepped a man who could only be described as someone didn't take nonsense from anyone. Sharp black sunglasses covered his eyes, and he had a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck. He was puffing on a lit cigar, and he seemed to be waiting for something. "Papa!" Fleur screamed in delight, running up to the man and wrapping him in a big hug. The man chuckled and hugged her back, before he gave some sort of hand signal. Not a moment later, dozens of blue robed wizards jumped out of the remaining SUVs. Before Harry could say Quidditch he was slammed up against the hood of one of the cars, having his legs spread and forced to bend over. He felt his hands get shackled, and was just relieved of his wand when a scream of protest distracted him. Fleur had a very angry look on her face and was having a heated conversation in rapid french with the cigar-smoking man, pointing and gesturing at Harry. She must have said something that surprised him, because he choked and looked sharply in Harry's direction. Another hand gesture and Harry was suddenly released from his shackles and had his wand returned. Harry rubbed his wrists, and glared at the man in blue who had shoved him so roughly. The man only shrugged his shoulders, not perturbed by Harry's angry look at all.

"Mr. Potter" said the man who was apparently Fleur's father. He had barely any accent at all, and spoke with a crisp, barely detectable RP lilt. He came closer, and Harry got a face full of smoke, sending him doubled over into another coughing fit. When Harry looked up again, the man had an apologetic look on his face. "I apologize for that Mr. Potter. You must understand, my daughter, who tells me you rescued her, has been missing for three days. We had been thinking the worst had happened when she called us here. Your pat down was a necessary precaution." Harry's glare softened a bit. He didn't like it, but he did understand putting the safety of your family above anything else. "I understand sir." He grunted. He didn't know exactly what this man was, but he gathered the man was some sort of commander or police office by the way he ordered the blue robed wizards around. The man smiled. "Please, Mr. Potter, you can call me Mr. Delacour. Or if you really insist on formality, Director will do."

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. A director? Harry had heard Cedric talk about how his father was the director of the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures. And that was a big deal apparently. Cedric had explained that to be the director of a department was a prestigious job, and the competition for those positions was fierce. If France was anything like Britain, this man was a powerful person in their ministry of magic. Slowly, an idea began to take shape in Harry's head. "Director Delacour sir," Harry began. "I need to find someone called Madame Maxime. Do you know who she is?" he asked. The man seemed surprised by the question, and didn't answer at first, instead taking a few puffs from his cigar. The man took off his sunglasses, and leveled Harry with an intense searching look. It was difficult not to squirm. Slowly, he spoke. "Indeed I do Mr. Potter. But I can't help but be curious why a famous Englishman like yourself would want to speak with the headmistress of France's foremost magical academy." Harry's eyes went wide. Magical academy? Why would Mrs. Goldstein send him there? "I can see from the look on your face that this is new information to you. Alright, I will take you there. I could hardly refuse after what you did for my daughter anyway." Harry started to thank the man, but he just held up a hand. "It is no problem, if we leave now, we can get there in five minutes." And without further ado Harry was shuttled into one of the SUVs, quickly joined by Fleur and her father.

It was much bigger on the inside than on the outside. Two large sofas stretched out way past what should have been the possible dimensions of the car. Mr. Delacour said something in french, and the driver, who had not exited earlier, nodded and started pressing all sorts of weird buttons on the dashboard that did not belong in a normal car. Suddenly, Harry felt a spinning sensation, then a feeling of being hooked behind the navel. The next instant, they were somewhere in the countryside, the city they had just been in having completely disappeared. Harry turned a little green having been completely unprepared for portkey travel. Without missing a beat, the driver stepped on the accelerator, and they were quickly speeding down the road that hadn't been there a second ago. Harry turned to Mr. Delacour with an astonished look on his face. "Did he just turn this car into a portkey? How is that Possible?" he asked, amazed. Mr. Delacour smiled at him, pleased with his question. "Sorry Mr. Potter. I'm afraid I can't share information of a sensitive nature like that with a non-citizen of magical France." Before Harry could reply, Mr. Delacour announced that they had arrived. To Harry's ever increasing shock, when he looked out the window, there standing in the distance was a majestic golden palace. Countless fountains and marble statues littered a perfectly manicured, sprawling, and luscious green lawns. Endless roman columns made up the enormous facade of the building, and all of it was made of gold, gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Yes, quite impressive isn't it?" Mr. Delacour commented at his amazed expression. Harry only nodded, completely amazed.

He took out his wand, and a moment later, Harry's ragged and filthy clothes were repaired and squeaky clean. Another spell and all the dirt and caked and dried blood vanished from Harry's face. Harry tried to thank him, but the man refused his gratitude once more. "I can't have you meeting Madame Maxime in that state. I have sent a message ahead, so she should meet you at the doors." He put out his hand and Harry shook it vigorously. "I can't thank you enough Mr. Delacour," he said as way of a parting message. Harry opened the door and made to exit when he heard his name called. Harry turned around and got the shock of a lifetime when Fleur rushed over to him, gave him a big hug and pecked him on the cheek, right in front of her father. He felt her slip something into his pocket, but he was too stunned to react. She smiled at him, and waved goodbye. Harry glanced over at Mr. Delacour and seeing the angry expression on his face, waved back at Fleur before he jumped out of the SUV as quick as he could.

Not a second later, the car vanished and Harry was left coughing up dust once again. He reached into his pocket to see what she had left him, and to his horror, he found an owl mailing address. He quickly stuffed it back in his pocket, having never felt so embarrassed in his life. Shaking his head, he started up the path to the palace doors. It was obscene just how much wealth was on display. There had to be enough gold just laying around to fill his Gringotts trust vault to the ceiling a dozen times over. Finally he reached the fronts doors, also made of gold, and knocked three times. The doors were several times Harry's height. It seemed a little unnecessary until those doors opened and out walked a woman who barely fit through the frame.

She was about the size of Hagrid, and even had a similar face. She was what Harry would imagine the caretaker would look like if he was a woman. Not that he had imagined that before. She raised an eyebrow the size of Harry's fist at his staring. Stammering, Harry asked "A..Are you Madame Maxime?" Her enormous face adopted a surprised expression. "Oui, I am." She, unlike Mr. Delacour, spoke with a thick french accent. "I had z'ought zat Sebastian waz making a joke when 'e sent me a message zat zaid zat 'arry Potter was coming. Please, come in." She led him through the halls, which like the outside, was filled with a huge display of all sorts of luxury items. Beautiful paintings and enormous crystal chandeliers hung from every wall and ceiling. When they reached her office, Harry was surprised by the comparatively spartan decorations. The only expensive thing in the room was the enormous artisan desk of a beautiful quality, and the obviously custom made extremely high backed leather chair. The huge woman sat down in it and steepled her fingers, looking at Harry like he was a particularly difficult puzzle. "Sit down Monsieur Potter," she said. And Harry did, in the only normal sized chair in the room.

"Per'aps you could explain why you are 'ere?" She asked. And so Harry explained how he had been forced to attend Hogwarts by Dumbledore, his subsequent escape, Mrs. Goldstein's final instructions, his second escape, and his meeting of the Delacours. It took him over an hour to finish his story, and he left out quite a few things, like how he thought he might have accidentally caused a volcanic eruption. He didn't think she would take too kindly to that. By the time he was done, Madame Maxime's face had turned pale like she had seen a ghost, and her jaw dropped. She was silent for a few minutes, needing some time to digest all that Harry had said. "Zat iz quite a tale Monsieur Potter." she eventually said, evidently shocked by his story. Harry nodded tiredly. "Yes, all because I didn't want to go to Hogwarts." He hung his head, a bit ashamed. He was having second thoughts about all this now. Maybe it would have been better if he had just accepted his lot and attended Hogwarts. None of this mess would have happened if he had just done what he was told. His family would be safe, and he wouldn't be on the run. A deep laugh made him look up. Madame Maxime had a look of pure amusement on her face.

"Monsieur Potter, don't be too 'ard on yourself. What waz done to you waz blackmail, pure and simple. You 'ad no obligation to take zat sitting down, az you Eenglish like to say." Harry smiled up at her, finding her words reassuring. "And Viola was very clever to send you 'ere. You may not know zis, monsieur, but Beauxbatons Academy is one of ze' only places in all of Europe beyond Dumblydore's reach." Hope filled Harry's heart at those words. "So could I come to school here?" he asked. Madame Maxime's smile dropped, and turned into a stricken look on her face. "I'm sorry Monsieur, but I'm afraid not. You see, even z'ough Dumblydore cannot come 'ere without my permission, I am still obligated by our treaties with your ministry to grant zat permission unless I 'ave a good reason. I would not be able to 'old him off forever, and besides, zis will be one of ze first places 'e will look. From what you told me just now, he last saw you in France."

Harry's gut dropped, and he felt tears prickle the back of his eyes, but he wasn't going to give up yet. "S.. So there is nothing you can do? Is there nowhere I can go that Dumbledore can't force me to leave?" He asked desperately. Madame Maxime looked him over, and gave him a pensive look. "Well… zere iz one place... " she trailed off. "Please! Tell me!" Harry begged her. She still seemed hesitant, but at Harry's pleading look, she relented. "Tell me, Monsieur Potter, 'ow good iz your German?"

A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the long wait! Again… really sorry. I had an idea of where I wanted to take this story, but it took a while to really hash out. I rewrote this chapter like three times. The plot is really starting to pick up pace from here. I hope you are all enjoying this, please leave a review if you did! Thank you to everyone who does for their support.