Author's Note: I am sorry for the long wait. With work and other things coming in the way, there was little time for writing for a while. To add to that, I had a little trouble with the story. I have an idea of where I want the story to go, but not a clear path to get there. I hope you will enjoy this latest chapter, and I promise to update soon. Please, do not hesitate to give me feedback. And now, on to the story!

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Chapter Eight: The Hearing

Gabrielle

For once, school could not start up again fast enough for Gabrielle. When Saturday dawned, she practically jumped out of bed to get ready. She took a long, hot bath, soaking in the scented water and feeling completely at ease. When she was done, she spent over an hour making sure her hair looked perfect, and applying her makeup. She usually had a much more relaxed view on getting dolled up, but her determination to catch Harry's eye made her put in the extra effort.

When she finally descended the stairs to the main floor, dressed in comfy pajamas, she found her parents seated around the dining table and waiting for her. The table held soups, toast, pastries, jams, cheeses, tea, coffee, fruit, and everything else needed for a proper family breakfast. When she took her seat, she got a raised eyebrow from her father as he took in her hair and makeup. Her mom gave her a knowing smile, but both of them had the good sense to not comment.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Her dad said, smiling, as he poured himself some coffee, added milk and two spoons of sugar.

"Morning. I thought you would be at work by now, Papa."

"And miss having breakfast with my little baby girl before she leaves us for months? Never." He said smiling warmly as he stirred his cup. "All packed and ready?"

"Yes. I packed last night. I just need to put on my uniform and I'm good to go."

They made small talk as they ate, and Gabrielle noted that her father was glancing at his watch every few minutes. A sure sign that he had an appointment and was nervous. He was telling them how he had won V.I.P tickets to the upcoming Quidditch match between France and Ireland for the semi-finals for the European Championship, when she just couldn't take him glancing at his watch every minute or so.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but do you have somewhere else to be?" she asked, a bit annoyed.

"Huh? Ah, not yet. Not yet. Not for a couple of hours yet." He said distracted.

"You keep looking at that damned watch so much, I'm starting to think I am bad company." She teased.

"No, no. It's just…"

"It's just what?" she asked, flashing him her most sweet and innocent pleading look, the very same that had gotten her almost anything she wanted since she was four. He sighed, glancing once more to his wrist.

"Alright. But this stays between us, yes?" She gave her nod of agreement, before he continued.

"So. You know my old friend, Charles Goudeau?"

"The Minister of Education, yes?"

"Well… He has been pestering me for weeks to facilitate a meeting, and I just know it's going to end… well, let's just say it is not going to be particularly pleasant."

Gabrielle frowned. "So? You are facilitating meetings, pleasant and unpleasant, all the time. What makes this different?"

Her dad took a deep sip of coffee, gave a huge sigh, and looked her right in the eyes.

"I can't tell you that, sweetheart. And no, do not try using that damned look of yours. It will not work. All I will say is that I have been asked to arrange a meeting with a man I respect, and I know may be resentful of the subterfuge." He waved his hand as to dismiss the entire topic. "Now, tell me about your extra classes. How long will you need them?"

The rest of breakfast was uneventful, and ended when her father got up, gave her a big hug, kissed her on the forehead and told her to behave, and write regularly. He then strode from the room, got his hat and travel cloak from the dumb-waiter in the hallway, and disappeared. Gabrielle went to her room, got dressed in her pristine uniform, gathered her luggage and met her mother downstairs, before heading out.

It was five hours later when she finally sat in the familiar carriage, drawn by the magnificent flying horses, chatting away with Sophie and Ella. She had visited her grandmother before heading off to school, as had been tradition since her first year, and spent some hours chatting away. She truly loved her grandparents, but for once, she had been glad to leave, as it meant she would be seeing him again.

She had been distant and daydreaming the entire ride, making Ella annoyed with her when she hadn't laughed at one of her stories. She was still sulking as they entered the Great Hall, which was rapidly filling up with students. She found her seat, and allowed her eyes to wander over the teacher's table. He was sitting between Professors LeClair and Artoise, a huge grin plastered on his face as he listened to the potions Master. The sight of him made her heart flutter, and she felt a now familiar tingling in her stomach, and the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks.

He looked no worse for wear after his brush with death. Same handsome features, same messy hair, same smile, same emerald green eyes that seemed to draw you in, pulling you deeper and deeper, like drowning in a crystal clear pool. Those eyes that she dreamed about, looking down on her as she laid beneath him, feeling him fill her up as they shared in their intimate passion. Those eyes that would smile at you and melt away fear and doubt, with trust and confidence. Those sparkling emeralds that looked at her with such a look of… confusion? Amusement?

Shit! She had drifted off, daydreaming about those damned eyes, and hadn't noticed that she had been staring at him. What's even worse, he had looked back. Right into her eyes. She had just been sitting there, staring like a fucking idiot, too lost in her own thoughts to register that he had noticed, and was looking back. How long have I just sat here? Oh no… He is going to think I am such a weirdo…. Oh my GOD! You are still looking you blasted moron! Look away! But don't make it obvious! Her inner voice was screaming at her. She looked up to the side, at nothing in particular, trying not to make it obvious she had been caught looking.

Smooth…. Very smooth you silly imbecile. Wow. Yeah, that chandelier is soooo noteworthy. NO ONE is ever gonna think twice about you looking at the freaking roof! Not strange at all! She felt like her cheeks were on fire as she looked back at the teacher's table. He was still looking at her, met her eyes, smiled, and turned back to his conversation. Great. Just great. Some seductress you are. Her inner voice admonished her. She let out a small groan and looked at the table, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, cursing herself under her breath.

"Ah, so that's it." Ella said, gleeful.

"That's what?" Sophie asked.

"That's why our dear Gabby has been spaced out. That's why she has gotten herself dolled up." She gave Gabrielle a nudge with her elbow. "She has been missing her boyfriend so terribly much"

"Shut. Up!" She hissed at her friend, but Ella just laughed, her previous annoyance at Gabrielle vanished.

Harry

The welcoming feast at Beauxbaton was truly stunning. The one thing that was a constant at the magical schools he had seen was that no expense was spared when it came to the feasts. Granted, he had only been to two, but that was one more than most wizards or witches ever saw. There was enough food to feed an army, with plenty left to spare, while the hall was decorated with ice sculptures and giant crystal snowflakes.

He seated at his customary seat next to Céline and René, sharing stories from the holidays. It was good to be able to share laughs with his new friends, and he realized that he had truly missed them. Even the dry humor of the Potions Master had been sorely missed. While they were talking, Harry kept feeling a slight sense of unease, that he had come to recognize as being watched. He allowed his eyes to wander over the assembled mass of students, searching and finding the culprit with ease.

Gabrielle Delacour was staring right at him, straight into his eyes. For a long few moments, he stared back, wondering just why she was looking at him so intently. Did he have something stuck in his teeth? Had the face of Voldemort suddenly materialized on his forehead? He had no good answers, but for some reason, he didn't look away. There was an almost unfocused quality to her brilliant blue eyes. As the moment dragged on, he felt an awkward smile spread on his lips. All of a sudden, a sharpness snapped into her eyes, and she quickly looked away, her neck snapping around so fast there was no doubt in Harry's mind that there would be a pulled muscle or two. He chuckled a bit, as she appeared to be studying a particularly fascinating spot on the roof. Her eyes flicked back to his after a moment, registering he was still looking at her, before darting to the table as a lovely shade of red blushed on her cheeks. With a chuckle and a shrug, he turned back to the conversation, telling them about his little duel at The Leaky Cauldron. He was in good spirits, and the weirdness of his student could do nothing to dismantle that.

The following Monday, as Harry opened the door between his bedroom and his office, he noticed a thick letter waiting for him at his desk. He recognized Madame Maxime's elegant hand right away, and broke the seal as he sat down, pulling out a number of different pages, in numerous different handwritings. He picked up the first page and read.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter. Enclosed in this envelope, you will find letters from officials in the Ministry of Education, as well as several members of the School Board. I have had the letters translated for you, but allow me to save you some time. Half of them are infuriated by the request to use the Unforgivable curses for educational purposes, while the other half sees the recent problems in Britain, as well as the turmoil in Europe, as a good reason to arm our students with as much knowledge as possible. They have agreed to a meeting this coming Saturday, to discuss the issue. You will be given time to make your case, before questions and deliberations, and finally; votes will be cast. I strongly suggest you prepare yourself. We shall meet for dinner on Wednesday and Friday to discuss this further. For any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Best Regards,
Olympe Maxime"

Harry sighed. Great. A formal meeting slash inquisition. Just what he needed to spice up the weekend. He read a few of the included letters, but got little from them that Madame Maxime had not already relayed in her short note. He put them aside, vowing to get through them all later that evening. Feeling stressed and in need of something, he strode over to the cupboard on the far wall, and grabbed his Firebolt from its resting place.

The polished wood felt smooth and warm to his touch, the familiar feel of it in his hands bringing back a flood of memories. Some of the best memories he had from Hogwarts was flying around the Quidditch pitch with his teammates, sharing laughs and jokes, snickering at Oliver Wood and his ever complicates schemes and plays. He longed for the feeling of freedom he had felt while soaring through the skies. It had been so long since he had used his broom that he felt guilty about it. He glanced at his watch, saw he had a couple of hours to spare before his classes, and made up his mind. With determined steps, he walked down the staircase, down the corridor, and out onto school grounds.

He had barely left the front steps before flinging himself onto the Firebolt, and kicking off with a pang of joy. The broom reacted immediately, shooting into the air like a rocket on New Year's Eve. The cold air beat against his face as the broom took him ever higher and further from the school building. He felt a laugh bubble up from his chest at the familiar string in his cheek and his nose. He slowed down, hovering midair, and taking in the view of the school and the grounds stretched out beneath him. The hedges and flowerbeds made an intricate pattern that was too massive in scale to be anything but breath taking. The surrounding mountains made a beautiful backdrop to the majestic building. He saw the Quidditch pitch in the distance behind the school, and with a grin, he leaned forward and squeezed every last bit of speed he could from the broom.

It was an hour and a half later when he walked back into his office, a huge grin plastered on his face, and frost red on his cheeks and nose. He had felt so alive while flying, the wind rushing through his hair, the coldness beating against his face, the numbness of his fingers around the broom, the feeling of sheer weightlessness as he spun in the air. It was all so fantastic. He made himself a promise to take at least an hour or two every weekend to maintain his flying skills. He sent for a tray of sandwiches instead of running down to the teachers table for a bite to eat, and as he enjoyed the food and a cup of steaming tea, he could hear the first trickle of students entering his classroom, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

His students had eagerly thrown themselves into the practice, eagerly honing their newfound dueling skills on each other. Spells flew, and the classroom resounded with shouted spell incantations, cries of shock and triumph, and the occasional string of harshly spoken French. Harry was still as close to mastering the French language as a goldfish was close to writing an opera, but cursing sounds the same in any language.

When Wednesday rolled around, Harry had read all the letters from the various board and ministry members, organized his thoughts and formulated a basic argument. He had taken great pride in his students after the holidays. Everyone had eagerly turned in their papers, and showed no signs of having forgotten the spells and techniques he had drilled into them. Even Gabrielle Delacour had shown a drastic improvement since Christmas. She was still somewhat flustered and unfocused at times, but she carried herself with a more confident pose as she slung spells. She was definitely getting better, but the lapses in her focus needed to be addressed. Harry knew all too well that a moment of distraction could get you killed in a nasty fight.

That evening he took his dinner with Madame Maxime in her office, discussing the coming meeting. She was a fountain of good ideas and wasn't afraid to point out any and all mistakes he had made in his reasoning. By the time Harry left to fetch his broom, and take it out for another spin, they had come up with a pretty good argument for his plan. To add to his joy, he had finally discovered the key to silent casting. He could do it with most spells he was familiar with now, but with more complex spells the results were varied.

He had stumbled upon the solution while re-reading a book he had been given by Shacklebolt when he joined the ranks of the Aurors. He had flipped though it at the time not thinking too much about the various concepts described, but when he had picked the book up on a whim on Tuesday evening, for some light bedtime reading (God, he started sounding more and more like Hermione by the day), the pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into place. He had read the whole book twice before catching a few hours of sleep. The very next day, he had found it prudent to loan the book to Miss Delacour, after her powers had manifested in blowing up a doll that was built and charmed to take a beating. Her powers were impressive, but she needed to learn to control it better.

Gabrielle

Her first week back at school after Christmas had flown by so quickly she should barely believe it. Professor Potter had complimented her on the rapid improvement she had shown. Ironically, that had made her lose focus and blow a practice dummy to smithereens. He had just chuckled at that, complimented her on her raw magical power, and assigned her a book from his own library to read about control and mental discipline. He had whispered conspiratorially into her ear that the book had even helped him improve his own skills when he first joined the Aurors.

She seated at her usual chair in the front of Professor Potter's classroom, chatting with Ella and Sophie while waiting for their last class of the week to start. The classroom looked different today. There were dozens of thick mats spread around the room, and on the blackboard behind the desk there was a message scribbled.

"Prepare yourselves. When the sand runs out, you will be attacked." Ella snorted. "What kind of craziness is that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure there is some sort of lesson in it, somewhere." She replied. On the desk stood an ornamented hourglass, with sand running steadily down. The classroom was full now, the students chatting excitedly and wondering about the message on the blackboard. When the bell signifying start of class rang, the class fell silent, but no professor arrived. They remained in quiet suspense for five minutes. Then the muttering started. Had Professor Potter forgotten about them?

There were rumblings from the students now, some of them eyeing the hourglass wearily. The class all quieted down and watched the last grains of sand fall to the bottom with rapped attention. All but Sophie stared. She had her wand out and cast glances all around the room. When the last grain fell, it was so silent in the room that one could probably have heard a mouse fart on the other side of the chateau. It fell and the class held its breath, but nothing happened. They kept staring at the hourglass, as if it was about to suddenly transform into a roaring dragon. There were a few thumps, but nothing was happening.

Ella turned towards her with a smirk on her face. "Well, that was exciting. Quite a brilliant joke he played on us, no? I'm sure he is up in his office, having quite the lau-" her words cut off suddenly, as she fell to the floor.

"Ella!" Gabrielle screamed, hunching down beside her friend, who laid motionless. All around her, hell erupted. Bodies dropped motionless to the floor, her classmates screamed and shouted, some running to the doors. One student tried frantically to open the door, but it was firmly locked. Sophie was beside her in an instant, standing protectively over her with wand drawn. Gabrielle drew her own, feeling silly for not doing so earlier. Red flashes struck out from nowhere, and when they hit a student, the person in question dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. A red bolt flashed right towards her, but before she could bring her wand to bear, Sophie was there in front of her, wand ready.

"Protego!" Sophie shouted, her shield charm popping up between them and the incoming bolt. As it hit the shield and dissipated, a loud voice boomed out.

"Very good, Miss Dubois! Very good indeed!". They looked around, and from out of nowhere, Harry Potter materialized, wand in hand. He was grinning from ear to ear as he approached them. With a few waves of his wand, the stunned students woke from their slumber, getting groggily to their feet. "You were the first one to draw your wand, and the only one that ignored the hourglass, instead spending your time searching the room! Very fine work indeed! Damn, I wish I could give you points!" He smiled.

He walked briskly to stand before his desk, took the hourglass in his free hand and turned to face them.

"You should all take note of Miss Dubois. She took the warning to heart. She prepared herself, and was the only one who kept focus. Again, very well done. The rest of you, remember this: Out there, if you have enemies, if you face witches or wizards who mean you harm, they will not leave you a warning and a timer. Constant vigilance, folks! Constant vigilance!"

"But eet was not a fair test! You were 'idden!" Ella accused, leaning a bit on Gabrielle as the grogginess cleared from her mind.

"When I faced Death Eaters, snatchers and Voldemort, they rarely gave me a fair fight." He said, petting the hourglass. There was gasps and intakes of air at the mention of the Dark Lord, but Harry didn't seem to care.

"Life in general is rarely fair and true fights of life and death least of all." He said as he sat down on the edge of his desk.

"Now, I know it's fun to hammer loose at one another with spells, trying to best your peers. But remember, this class has a real life use. We are not teaching you to duel, as much as we are teaching you to defend yourselves if the need should arise." He took a moment to let his words sink in. "Now, in the following weeks and months, the training will get more difficult. There is a lot to teach you in a compressed period of time, but I will do my damned best. That being said, we will have fun while learning. Now, pair up. I want to see those shield charms in action. I will be walking amongst you while you duel, and will cast a few spells your way from time to time. Keep your focus, and keep in mind you might suddenly face two opponents. Oh. And remember: Constant Vigilance."

The rest of the class was spent dueling, with the spontaneous appearance of Professor Potter to make things more difficult. She had been hit by one of Ella's spells while blocking a spell from Professor Potter. While Ella had laughed at her misfortune, she had been hit with the Jelly-Legs-Jinx and received a scolding reminder to be vigilant. That had made her smirk at her friend who triedd her best to keep her legs under her. When the class ended, on a much better note than it had started, she was once again asked to stay behind.

"So. About your private tutoring." He said, sitting down at a vacant desk. "Normally, we will start at noon, but I will be busy for a few hours tomorrow. So how about seven in the evening? Will that work for you?"

"Yes. Here?" She answered, feeling a slight blush in her cheeks and a fluttering of butterflies at his closeness.

"Yeah. You'll find me in my office. Just knock." He said with a smile and dismissed her.

Harry

Saturday came all too soon for Harry's taste. The planning session with Madame Maxime the evening before had done much to soothe his nerves, but he still felt a bit of unease. They had agreed to meet in her office at nine to take the floo network to the Ministry for their meeting. He barely ate during breakfast, but forced himself to finish his toast before heading out.

They arrived from a magnificently decorated fireplace with a plume of green fire. He looked around noting the elegance of the huge hall. There were carved pillars that rose from floor to ceiling and spaced amongst them were marble statues of wizards and witches. People were hurrying back and forth the various fireplaces erupting with green flashes as people arrived and departed.

Madame Maxime gave him a light nudge, that almost sent him sprawling to the floor, and took the lead. They entered a reception area where a wizard in a crisp uniform took their names and asked for their reason of visit before producing two visitor badges with their names on them. They were then pointed to a row of gilded elevators.

They arrived at the fifth floor, home to the Ministry of Education, with over half an hour to spare for their meeting. They were greeted by a polite, young functionary who lead them to the assigned meeting room asking them if they needed some refreshments before bowing respectfully to Madame Maxime and leaving.

"Helpful young lad." Harry commented just to fill in the silence.

"Yes. 'E was one of ze best students to graduate two years back. Pierre DuMont. Wasted on ziz, but 'e ees ambitious." She said, while taking a seat. The room was eerily similar to a court room. There was a long desk at the far end, with a dozen chairs to each side of the central chair. There was even a gavel placed in front of the central chair. Facing the imposing desk, was a far smaller one, with two chairs. One was obviously meant for Madame Maxime, as it was scaled for her above average large frame.

"Sooo. This looks menacing." He said, taking her seat next to her.

"Oui, but do not let eet get to you. Eet eez ze Minister's way of trying to get us off balance, and to showcase 'is power." She sighed. "'e 'as always been a bit arrogant, but 'e ees a good administrator."

They chatted idly for a bit before a door behind the long desk opened up. A procession of people walked in, headed by none other than Charles Goudeau himself. Madame Maxime and Harry stood as they entered and waited while the crowd filed in. Mr. Goudeau took his seat, fished a stack of parchment from somewhere, and waited for the others to sit. Harry noted that the witches and wizards that were clearly ministry officials seated themselves to the right of Goudeau, while what must be the members of the School Board seated themselves to the left.

Monsieur Goudeau cleared his throat, took the gavel and banged it against the wooden block whose job it was to take such abuse. He spoke in a clear voice full of authority, and alas: In French. Harry thought he got the gist of it. "We call this meeting to discuss the suggestion of this lunatic of an Englishman to torture his students, bla bla bla…" that kind of thing. He knew better than to ask Madame Maxime for a translation, risking interruption and seeming rude. Time dragged on as the Minister for Education introduced the officials and the members of board, Madame Maxime and Harry, and for all he knew the teapot.

When introductions were out of the way, he droned on, supposedly about the issue at hand. After what seemed like hours, he finally gave the word to Madame Maxime, who stood up and addressed the crowd. Never in his life had Harry wished to be fluent in French more than that very moment. He silently cursed himself and vowed to get LeClair to tutor him.

When his name was finally called, he almost jumped at the shock of hearing English spoken.

"Monsieur Potter. We will now hear from you. Be aware that your words will be transcribed for posterity." Monsieur Goudeau said, banging his gavel against the poor block of wood again. Harry rose to his feet, feeling how they protested stiffly after sitting so long.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I will be brief as I believe Madame Maxime has made quite the elegant argument for our case." He nodded to the Headmistress, who smiled in return.

"Now, I was hired to teach the cream of French youth to defend themselves. The storm is brewing out there, and while I have full confidence that the Ministry will do its optimum to stand against the darkness, it is of outmost importance that we prepare our students in the best ways possible. We must prepare them to stand fast in the defense of themselves, their families, their friends, and their nation." He stepped around the desk and allowed his eyes to meet each representative in turn.

"As I said, I have every confidence in the Ministry to withstand the threats against it, but I ask you: Is not the ministry, and the people it is sworn to protect, better served if we arm our youth with the tools they need to defend themselves? Is it not in our best interest to show them the dangers that lurks in the shadows, so that, Merlin forbid, should they be faced with those dangers, they will know what they are facing, and know how to fight against it? I ask you, do your children, your grandchildren, not deserve the best education possible?" He spread his hands out, inviting them to agree or disagree.

"I was hired to train our children to defend themselves, and so I will. And I intend to do so whole-heartedly. I intend to arm them with the knowledge to stand against those who would do them harm. Now, I know it is not an easy thing to ask, to allow an exception to be made as to allow the demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses. I can only hope that you see the need, as I do. As Madame Maxime does. I have known her a short time, but in that time, I have come to respect her immensely. She lives and breathes for her school, her students, and she would never, under any circumstance allow harm to come to them. With the exception of the Imperius Curse, I ask that I be allowed to show the true horror one can face. And in the case of the Imperius Curse, it is my hope that you will allow me to train the students so that they may be able to resist it. Thank you." He gave a bow and returned to his seat, taking an offered glass of water from Madame Maxime, who beamed at him.

"Very well, we will now open for questions." Monsieur Goudeau said, repeating his words in French.

A thin and ancient looking wizard to the right fixed Harry with his gaze and asked in heavily accented French.

"Monsieur Potter. Surely I 'eard you wrong? Resisting ze Imperius Curse? Impossible!"

Harry gave a nod to acknowledge the man.

"Monsieur DeVorie. I am not saying that they will be able to break the hold of the curse, but given sufficient training, they may- MAY, be able to resist it."

"'e ees right. Eet can be done." A ministry official chimed in, earning a stern glare from Monsieur Goudeau. "Ze Aurors train to do eet, wiz great success." The man plowed on, meeting the Minister's stare.

"'ow will we safeguard against ze students being under Monsieur Potter's control?" a Ministry witch asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"Zat is a good point!" Monsieur Goudeau said, leaping at the topic. "No offence to you, but zere are a risk involved, non?"

Before Harry could answer, Madame Maxime rose, silenced the minister with a look and said.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Surely, zere ees no doubt as to Harry Potter's dedication to fight against the Dark Arts. 'Ave 'e not proven 'imself for years? And eef 'is track record, and my guarantees, ees not enough, 'ave a member of ze board monitor ze classes in which ze curse will be used, but do not slander my teacher wiz unfounded accusations and implications." Her voice was calm and low, but carried unmistakable notes of authority and implied threat. It was obvious that her love for school and students also extended to her staff.

There was a dead silence for a moment, while the Minister of Education opened and closed his mouth, as if searching for words. Harry saw several of the school board members, and a few of the ministry officials smile. Monsieur Goudeau finally seemed to find his words, swallowed nervously, and cleared his throat.

"Yes, of course. No offence was given, Monsieur Potter. I apologize if one was taken."

"None at all, Minister. Caution is a generally good thing." He said smiling.

The discussion got back on track, and even got pretty heated, with a bunch of people shouting over each other to be heard. There were fists shaken, heads nodding, and rapid French being fired back and forth. Madame Maxime participated where she felt it necessary, or to answer any questions. Now and then, a question would be directed to him, and he answered as best he could. At some point trays of food and drink had appeared and the arguments became a tad more hushed as people helped themselves to the refreshments, before it blossomed into full volume again. He lost completely track of time as they argued.

Eventually, Monsieur Goudeau banged his gavel and called for silence. The discussion quieted down after a few moments, then the minister called for a vote. Madame Maxime raised her hand, as did most of the board, and a few ministry officials. When the vote for opposed was called, Harry's heart sank as he counted the votes. They were tied. This called for a new round of discussions and a new vote.

It was the fourth vote when there was finally a resolution. A very sour looking Monsieur Goudeau banged his gavel against the block once more and announced the verdict. The proposal had passed, by a very fine margin. The minister stomped out of the room as soon as the meeting was called to an end and Harry was introduced to a dozen different people by a smiling Madame Maxime.

Later, as they were safely back at her office, sinking into her comfortable chairs, and in Harry's case hoping to high heaven he never had to do that again, Madame Maxime chuckled.

"I must say 'Arry. You did very well back zere. You could 'ave made a fine politician." She laughed.

"You'll forgive me, Madame, if I disagree. I hate the entire notion. I much prefer action to endless debate." He said yawning. Madame Maxime fixed him with a serious look, and gave him a genuine smile.

"Perhaps that would make you a much better politician zan you zhink."