Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

There were voices outside - muffled first, but becoming clearer as Harry's disorientation faded, and definitely French.

French?

And if they were outside, what actually was inside, please?

A young voice said something like, "... wake him." Next moment, Harry heard a door creaking softly, light steps, then sniffing, breathing, and suddenly something wet washed over his face.

"'arry!"

He opened his eyes.

He was lying in a bed. Before the bed, right in front of him, stood three dogs of different sizes and colours, though unanimously wagging their tails in excitement. The dog closest to him, also the biggest, was busy washing Harry's face with a wet tongue.

Behind them, in the middle of the room, stood a young girl, about ten: Gabrielle, a younger version of Fleur, only her silvery hair seemed almost as long as Fleur's. Gabrielle was beaming at Harry, apparently as excited as the dogs.

Behind her, in the door frame, stood Fleur, smiling at the picture.

"What ..." About to complete the question, Harry felt his memory returning, a change he welcomed only for a short moment, until the memory covered the last events of the previous evening.

"Oh no," he moaned, almost in disbelief of what had happened. He'd been drunk, he'd managed to get drunk on the Beauxbatons ball. Suppressing panic, he looked at himself, feeling relief when he saw pyjamas, although not his own.

"Good morning, 'arry." Fleur's voice was thick with amusement. "Gabrielle decided it was time to wake you. You should know, her word isn't exactly law in this house but close enough - especially in this case."

Harry looked at the dogs, then at Gabrielle, couldn't help grinning, and was rewarded with another wave of tail-wagging and wet muzzles.

"Good morning, Gabrielle ... Fleur, I'm sorry - "

She interrupted him. "Calm down. It's no affair, and you behaved quite decently - surprisingly so, considering your state." Fleur grinned. "To put you at ease, Cho wasn't much better off."

"Where is she? Where are we?"

"At home," replied Gabrielle, beaming. "You're here much earlier than planned - so we have much more time!"

Fleur turned to her sister. "That's true, but now let him get dressed. Come on, young lady."

Dressing?

Harry glanced at Fleur. "Who - er, brought me in? And what about my - er, clothes?" His real question was who'd undressed him, only he couldn't ask that.

But Fleur had sensed his meaning. "You were walking all by yourself," she said while her grin deepened again, "and you did the critical parts of the undressing yourself - all very orderly, only tight as a lord ... You'll find the bathroom next door."

Fleur grabbed her sister and stepped out. The dogs followed, then the door closed.

---

Harry swung his legs and tried to figure out how he felt.

Weak, a slight headache, not too bad altogether, only a dry mouth and a sore stomach. He staggered into the bathroom and gulped two cups of water.

He felt a lot better - except that a moment later his head started to swim. This was impossible, wasn't it? It had been tap water, no way it could have been anything else.

He started to shower. After some minutes under the hot water, he felt some steadiness return. Having finished with cold water, he felt ready to live a little more.

His clothes were piled in a a neat stack in the bedroom. Somebody had cleaned them; there were none of the sweat stains he'd expected. Well, if you got drunk, there was no better way than to wake up in a castle with a lot of house-elves.

Climbing down the stairs, he found two of the three dogs waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase - a small white one and a retriever. Their tails were wagging happily.

Harry knelt down and patted them, receiving caresses in return. After a moment, the third dog appeared, the large black one who'd licked his face upstairs, eager to get his share of the patting.

Next moment, Gabrielle stood there to watch the scene appreciatively.

Harry asked, "Are they all yours?"

"The small one's mine, she's as old as I am, and she's the boss. Her name's Boulicot because she was such a small bundle when she came to us, but we call her just Bouly. This one" - Gabrielle pointed at the retriever - "is Danny, for Danièle, and this is Max. He's the youngest. Do you have dogs, 'arry?"

He grinned. "One - sometimes."

Gabrielle tilted her head. "Sometimes? What does that mean, sometimes? Either you have a dog or you don't."

"He's not really a dog. His name's Sirius, and he's a wizard who can change into a dog, a large black one, like Max here. Sirius is my godfather."

Gabrielle seemed impressed. "Can you change into an animal, 'arry?"

"No, I can't, but one of the girls who's coming today can. Her name's Almyra, and she can change into an owl - or a falcon, whichever you like best."

A slight disappointment found its way to Gabrielle's face. "Why can't you change into an animal, 'arry?"

"I haven't learned it yet. All I can do is to change my arm into a snake, and then I can talk with her."

Gabrielle clapped her hands. "Yes, please, 'arry - do it!"

A man appeared in a door. "He'll do it later, my sweetie - let him eat something first." The man turned to Harry. "Good morning, 'arry - I thought if I didn't come to help, you'd never make it to breakfast."

Harry rose, realizing that up and down movements weren't the best idea yet. "Good morning, Monsieur Delacour - please excuse my untidy arrival in your house."

The man shook his hand and smiled. "It's not really your fault - you're a victim of cultural differences between England and France. Let's find a seat for you, then I'll explain to you what should be part of the education program at Hogwarts."

---

They entered a large dining room, where Harry found the table laid for two people, probably himself and Cho.

He hadn't reached his seat yet when a woman came through an archway. She had to be Fleur's mother: the resemblance was remarkable, her face beautiful, a clear indication that Fleur had not yet reached her peak.

She smiled at him.

Monsieur Delacour said. "My dear, let me I introduce you to our young friend 'arry Potter ... 'arry, this is my wife Elienne, who has caught me twenty years ago, never to let go again." His face left no doubt that this was the best fate he could imagine.

Harry stepped forward. "Madame Delacour - thank you for your hospitality under these embarrassing conditions - "

She interrupted him. "My dear 'arry, let me tell you: in this house, you're welcome at any time, and you certainly know why."

He blushed, remembering the scene in the lake, which at that time had looked so foolish.

Monsieur Delacour held a bottle. "I was going to let 'arry return to the living. What about you, my dear? A small drop, to celebrate the event?"

Harry's eyes widened - champagne! "Oh no, please, Monsieur Delacour - "

The man smiled. "I know what I'm doing; trust me. Lesson number one: after a night with too many drinks, you need one glass of the same medicine - no more, but no less."

Frightened, Harry glanced at the glass. "The water alone was enough to make me dizzy again. Sir, I'm afraid this glass will make it worse."

A laughter. "Which tells me you've been drinking pastis, right?"

Harry nodded.

"That's the nasty after-effect. Water isn't the best idea, but this glass of champagne will truly sober you up."

Reluctantly, Harry accepted the glass.

Fleur's father raised his own. "To our first meeting with Gabrielle's friend and hero."

It was remarkable how delicious the champagne tasted, even on such a morning.

Fleur's mother left the room. Harry sat down and started to eat - carefully, while at the same time listening to Monsieur Delacour's instructions how to handle alcoholic drinks.

"As unplanned as it was, 'arry - it has shown us that you don't lose your manners when getting drunk, which is the sign of a self-assured person and therefore not too surprising in your case. Perhaps it's no reason to be proud, but once you know it, there's no reason to drown in shame either."

Harry nodded, chewing slowly. After the glass had worked exactly as promised, he felt ready to believe Monsieur Delacour's every word about drinking.

"Mainly, as I said, you're a victim of differences in the education between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. In France, knowledge of alcoholic drinks and their effects is expected from students at the age of fifteen."

"Really?"

Monsieur Delacour nodded. "It doesn't mean they should drink regularly, but they have to know. Because of that, Beauxbatons students always forget that this isn't true for other students, in particular not for those from Hogwarts." He smiled. "I know that your Headmaster is more open-minded in this issue, but he certainly has to face a strong opposition among the parents."

"There's a town near Hogwarts where you can get drinks," said Harry, "except this year it wasn't allowed, for security reasons."

"That adds to it. There are two things you have to know, 'arry. Every drink, no matter what, contains about the same amount of alcohol - assuming it's served in the proper glass. That's why liquor glasses are so small and beer glasses are so big."

Harry's eyes widened. "Does it mean - each pastis was as much as a glass of champagne?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God - and I thought, with that much water - "

"Pastis is a strong liquor," explained Monsieur Delacour. "The water stretches it to what's called a longdrink, and makes it quite digestible for the stomach, but in quantities of alcohol, there's no difference."

"And nobody ... yes, I see."

"The other rule is: don't mix drinks. After you started with champagne, keep to it. When you're on pastis, keep to that. I can tell you, champagne and pastis are a particularly bad mixture."

The expression on Monsieur Delacour's face left little doubt that his judgement was based on personal experience. Harry shuddered inwardly, thinking about his innocent foolishness with the drink habits of Beauxbatons.

There were footsteps outside, then Cho appeared in the door.

Monsieur Delacour was quicker than Harry. "Mademoiselle Chang, I'm delighted to meet you." He took her hand and brought it near his lips, bowing.

"Monsieur Delacour - please forgive my appearance, and please call me Cho."

A moment later, Cho accepted the glass that was offered to her without hesitation; evidently her knowledge of drinking habits was better than Harry's. Then she started to eat, with obvious appetite, giving a good example how much better it was keeping to champagne only.

* * *

Harry was about to finish his small breakfast when a whirlwind came through the door, in the shape of Gabrielle, trailed by the three dogs. "Cho!"

The cheering shout was followed by a hug, responded equally.

Gabrielle beamed. "I'm so happy you're here, too. Fleur has told me how you and 'arry are flying together, and how you helped him in the exam, and how your arm was broken, and how the Giant has cured it - "

Interrupting herself, Gabrielle examined Cho's arms. "Which one was it?"

Cho touched her right arm. "This one - but it wasn't broken, otherwise we couldn't have finished the patrol."

Satisfied to see Cho unhurt, Gabrielle turned to Harry. "Are you done? Then we can go. I have to show you everything."

Smiling, Monsieur Delacour said, "It's the best you can do, 'arry, and it gives me the opportunity to do what I like best - talking with an attractive young woman."

Harry followed Gabrielle on a tour that did not end before the other guests' arrival at lunch time. It started with a succession of rooms: first the kitchen, where they met Madame Delacour in the company of some house-elves, smiling warmly at the sight of her younger daughter; through family rooms and a library; and up the stairs to Gabrielle's own room, where Harry was surprised by two pictures. The first one - obviously taken during the Christmas ball - showed himself with Cho; the other one showed him alone, sitting on his Steel Wing.

Gabrielle pointed out all the places where the dogs used to sleep, about two and a half for each of them, then Harry's young guide found the building done and dragged him outside. All the while, Harry praised each Galleon he'd spent on his crash course, as Gabrielle kept talking almost non-stop.

Outside, the first station was the garden, actually more of a park, where they had to throw rubber balls for the dogs.

The first one to tire of that was Bouly, the small white dog. She lay down in the grass, her own ball between her front paws, and snarled whenever one of the other two dogs came too close.

The next one was Gabrielle, who decided it was time to show Harry the stables and the horses. Inside, she asked, "Can you ride, 'arry?"

"I don't know - I never had the chance to ride a horse."

"Never?" Gabrielle looked disbelieving.

"No. Once I rode a hippogriff, although that's more flying than riding - " Harry interrupted himself as the memory flooded back. "Wait - yes, I did ride, once. But it wasn't a horse, it was a Centaur."

"Really?" Gabrielle seemed relieved to see her hero's reputation restored, and also fascinated at the idea of a horse one could talk with. "Tell me, please."

"I met him twice - his name's Firenze. The first time, he saved me from an enemy by letting me ride him. The second time was in the patrol exam - there he saved Cho and myself from losing because Cho was hurt."

"Tell me how he saved Cho and you."

And so Harry had to tell the story how Cho crashed into a tree, and how he guided her to the ground where Firenze found them, and how the Centaur had carried Cho. This was interrupted by many questions; but even so, Harry couldn't imagine a better way of recovering from an overdose of pastis.

---

When Gabrielle heard that Fleur's shawl had played a role, she smiled archly, suddenly no longer a ten-year-old, though Veela more than ever. "What did Cho say when she had the shawl around?"

"Hmm - maybe you should ask her yourself about that."

"She got tender - am I right?"

Harry smiled. "Yes. She wanted me to kiss her."

Gabrielle nodded; that seemed so obvious to her that she didn't even bother asking Harry whether he'd obeyed. Next moment, though, she looked up. "I can do it, too - without a shawl."

"I know - you're a Veela."

"A quarter Veela," she corrected him, "but that's still enough. Shall I?"

Harry had no doubt the girl would be successful. Luckily, he found the proper answer. "Ask Cho first - if she agrees, it's okay."

"Yes, you're right." Gabrielle nodded again, showing Harry that Drilencu's lessons had provided only the dry facts of Veela standards and morale.

The dogs, which had been lying placidly around them, suddenly raised their heads almost simultaneously. A moment later, Harry and Gabrielle could hear voices from the main building.

"I think the other guests just arrived," said Harry.

Gabrielle looked at him pleadingly. "Can you ask the girl for me? The one who can be an owl?" Suddenly, she was her true age again.

"Almyra," supplied Harry. "Yes, I can do that. On the other hand, she's Cho's friend - so if you ask Cho to ask her, the chances might be even better."

Gabrielle didn't fully agree. "You must ask her first, 'arry."

No question - as much as she liked Cho, her undivided hero had to fight the first battle. To confirm this, Gabrielle grabbed Harry's hand while walking over to the main building.

---

Inside, Harry saw six people standing in the entrance hall - not his friends, as expected, all but one face unknown, and that face belonged to Janine.

Gabrielle made the first part of the introduction quickly by shouting, "Here - this is 'arry Potter!"

As Harry learned from Monsieur Delacour's more formal introduction, the newcomers were the Baillard family, although not quite complete: a son somewhere in the middle had been left home. The other four children were Raoul and Janine, both of them grinning conspiratorially, then Thierry, a boy slightly older than Gabrielle, and Vivienne, a girl of about eight. Gabrielle informed Harry immediately that Vivienne was usually called Vif, which was funny because she was very shy and seemed quite impressed by Harry's presence, holding close to her brother.

The introductions hadn't finished yet when another group appeared, guided by Fleur - a Fleur who seemed a bit self-conscious.

A second later, Harry saw why. Together with Viktor and Hermione, Ron and Almyra, a fifth person was climbing the stairs: Bill Weasley. Harry smiled inwardly, wondering if Fleur's invitation had just been a nice wrapping for what seemed Bill's first visit to her parents.

Ron had found the presence of mind to bring the box with the sweets collection.

Harry whispered, "Thanks a lot," and decided to let Cho do the passing-over. Considering his conversations with Gabrielle all through the morning, the present suddenly felt like overkill.

Gabrielle was indeed very pleased about the box, but when Cho introduced her to Almyra, she seemed more awe-struck.

Neither Cho nor Almyra had an explanation for the unusual moment of silence from the girl who was known for silver outside and quicksilver inside. At their questioning looks, Harry whispered, "I told her you can turn into an owl, Al - I've been ordered to ask you to show it."

Almyra's answer was a low, "Damn you, Harry," although she seemed more excited than annoyed.

* * *

While everybody was sitting down in the dining room, Monsieur Delacour bent to Harry and murmured, "I forgot to mention the last rule about alcohol, 'arry: place it only on top of some food. That's why I recommend to skip the apéritif, while you don't need to worry about some wine with the meal."

Harry nodded, grateful again for being guided through the complexities of French dinner habits.

Gabrielle, seated between Harry and her father, looked pleased at seeing that Harry's and her own apéritif were the same - mineral water. Then she turned to her father and said, "Papa, can we have a Centaur for riding?"

"No, my little one. Centaurs aren't animals, so you can't own them, and they don't like the company of humans, so it's impossible to ride them."

Gabrielle shot him a reproachful glance. "But 'arry said he rode a Centaur - twice."

The scene had the attention of the entire table.

"That's highly unusual," replied Monsieur Delacour, "but as 'arry doesn't lie, I'm sure he can explain it."

Feeling Gabrielle's stern glance, Harry said, "It was one specific Centaur. His name is Firenze. And it's true, the other Centaurs were very angry with him helping me, but he said something like they should read the stars more carefully, then they would know. By the way, I rode only once; the other time, it was Cho."

To resolve Gabrielle's conflict between his own statements and those of her father, Harry added, "Firenze didn't like it at all, but Cho talked him into it."

The other people were staring at Harry, then at a blushing Cho.

Gabrielle asked, "What did you say to him, Cho?"

Harry's reaction came in an instant, as always when at the risk of severe injuries, whether now or later. "It was a bit of poetry," he said to Gabrielle, "and it was only for Firenze's ears."

Lucky him - Gabrielle was satisfied with this answer.

Madame Delacour lifted her glass of sherry and said, "To the magic of poetry."

The round followed, and Harry saw that Cho had restricted herself to water as well. Then he felt her hand touching his, an acknowledgment of his quick reaction after the hazardous remark.

Fleur's parents asked Bill about his work with the Goblins, deepening Harry's suspicion that the invitiation served as a multi-layer event.

Bill explained that recently his job was more outbound, after periods of working as a mere office clerk. His French was quite fluent, giving Harry the impression that Veela trances might also speed up the mastering of foreign languages. Listening, he reminded himself not to reveal more than genuine interest.

Monsieur Baillard asked, "How is it for a human to work with Goblins, Monsieur Weasley?"

"Definitely better than the other way around," replied Bill. "Many people consider Goblins a bunch of greedy dwarfs who are only interested in money. The truth is totally different, although there's no denying that they support the public prejudice, because they prefer to keep a low profile. They're very proud - it takes time to gain their confidence, whereas it takes only an instant to lose it."

Harry nodded. "Goblins are warriors," he said.

Next moment, he twisted inwardly. Why had he said that? Could only be a late effect from that damned pastis.

Bill smiled at him. "Harry is right; that expresses their nature in the shortest form."

Monsieur Delacour asked, "Have you been able to gain their confidence?"

"Yes, Monsieur Delacour." There was pride in Bill's voice. "A while ago, I had to handle some - er, transactions which involved Goblins and humans. I didn't make any mistakes, and it earned me a reward."

Harry's head jerked up. Unable to stop himself, he asked, "What level?"

"Classified."

Bill had blushed a bit. Fleur, at his side, was beaming at him.

Harry could suppress another remark though not a happy grin toward Bill and Fleur. So Bill now was in a position to propose to a girl with rich parents, which wiped away Harry's last doubt about Fleur's plotting.

Monsieur Delacour's face didn't reveal how much he knew about Goblin requests, or about the tactics of Veela daughters. At least he looked quite satisfied when he said, "Well done, Bill - no need to ask for details, because 'arry's face tells me all I have to know."

---

Over the soup, Janine said, "That guy yesterday, that Monsieur Lupin - I had a feeling as if there was an interesting story cut very short." She was looking at Ron.

"That's true," answered Ron, "but I think Harry should tell it - his French is much better than mine." His cheeks were slightly pink.

Faces turned toward Harry.

"He was at Hogwarts with my father, and also the reason why my father and some others learned to be an Animagus - you have to know, Lupin is a werewolf."

Some gasping, widening eyes around the table.

Had he made another faux-pas? Quickly, Harry added, "It's fully under control - you may ask Hermione, she's the one who's brewing his medicine."

So Hermione had to explain about the potion, and how this advanced recipe had brought peace to an age-old horror, and why it was her job to do it.

Madame Delacour said, "We didn't know. I'm glad to hear those people can have a normal life, after all the time."

Janine wasn't satisfied yet. "Is it true that he was held prisoner by Voldemort? According to what I've heard, he escaped with the help of Dumble d'Or, or 'arry, or both."

"He was caught while fighting Dementors," confirmed Harry. "We found out by - er, some accident. But the rescue was done by people other than me - Ron's the one who made it possible: he found information about Voldemort in the Hogwarts archive."

This move took him off the hook and instead put Ron in the focus of attention, especially Janine's, while Ron - with growing fluency - described his administration job and how he remembered a forgotten letter which finally revealed the location of Lupin's imprisonment.

After finishing his story, Ron tried to pass the ball back to Harry. But Harry was prepared to bounce it off immediately.

"After they found the house," he said, "it was guarded for days by Animagus wizards. Almyra here was one of them - she can tell."

Even Gabrielle, whose interest had diminished rapidly before, hung on Almyra's lips as she described the guard shifts that involved a dog, a cat, and alternately an owl or a falcon.

When Almyra mentioned the dog, Gabrielle turned to Harry and asked, "Is that your dog, 'arry?"

Harry had to laugh. "Yes, although I don't own him. The man is Sirius Black, my godfather."

Monsieur Baillard looked astonished. "What a strange coincidence of names - I remember, wasn't this also the name of that prisoner from Azkaban? The newspapers around that time said he was after you, 'arry."

Harry decided to make it short and quick. "It's one and the same. He wasn't after me, he came to save me. Thanks to Lupin, we could resolve the misunderstanding."

Monsieur Baillard didn't let it rest. "So he was innocent, then?"

"Yes - innocent in Azkaban, for twelve years ... It was someone else."

Monsieur Baillard would have liked to ask more, but something in Harry's face made him stop.

Instead, his older daughter said, "But I still don't know who made it possible for Lupin to flee from that house."

Harry said, "That was Dumbledore, in my shape. Capturing Lupin was just a trap to catch me, and Dumbledore turned the trick against Voldemort."

Monsieur Delacour said, "Which definitely was a masterpiece of magic skill. An admirable man, your Headmaster - actually, this is the most fascinating dinner table I can remember."

Other people agreed, then his younger daughter shouted, "And I'm the one who has made it happen."

"Yes, my pretty one." Monsieur Delacour was stroking Gabrielle's hair, then glanced at his older daughter. "With some help from your sister."

During the main course, the conversation turned to family matters, giving Madame Delacour the opportunity to ask Bill about the Weasley family. While Bill explained, there was a very attentive listener in the Baillard family - Janine, who smiled at hearing that the Weasleys had two children more than her own family.

At some point, Madame Delacour turned to Harry. "Is it difficult for you when the conversation is about families?"

"No - quite the contrary," he replied. "It's fascinating, and I can just sit and listen."

Madame Delacour smiled warmly. "Yes, I can understand that. What about your relatives?"

Harry's smile faded. "There's no use talking about them - none at all."

* * *

Gabrielle's patience held until the dessert was served and gulped quickly, at least by herself. Then she was up. "Thierry, Vif - let's go. Are you coming with us, 'arry?"

Not only was it impossible to deny her plea, Harry welcomed the opportunity to leave the table. French dinners turned out awfully long. He followed the children into another room, accompanied by the dogs. There, he had to give a detailed explanation of all the sweets in the box.

Pointing at Bernie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, he said, "Be careful with them - it's really any flavour you can think of, and some of them are terrible."

"That's simple," replied Gabrielle. "For each colour shade, first I let Bouly try. If she doesn't spit it out, you can eat it."

Harry had his doubts; but then, what did he know about the synchronization between this girl and the dog that had watched her grow?

With the beans tested, he wasn't surprised when the Canary Creams turned out Gabrielle's favourites - provided there was a mirror so she could watch herself as a large canary for a minute or so.

Thierry preferred Chocolate Frogs because of the pictures, while Vivienne got excited about the Fizzing Whizzbees which made her levitate inches above the floor.

After the box had been emptied to half, Gabrielle turned to Harry. "You said you can make a snake of your arm and talk with her - please do it, 'arry."

He looked at the two other children. "What about you? Aren't you frightened by a snake?"

Thierry said, "No," not entirely convincingly.

Vivienne, who had lost some of her shyness, stared at Harry with great seriousness. "If you hold it, I'm not frightened."

Remembering the reactions of his classmates, Harry said, "When I'll talk with her, don't be afraid, okay? It'll be Parselmouth, not French."

They nodded, their expressions indicicating that it wasn't quite clear to them why he had to point out something as obvious as that.

Harry took out his wand. "Manuserpeversa!"

The brilliantly green snake appeared, moving and hissing.

"Oh - how beautiful," said Gabrielle.

Next instant, a growl came from the large black dog.

"Max, shut up." At Gabrielle's command, the dog sat down, although still at alert.

That'd be the day, thought Harry, bitten by a dog because his arm was a snake. He turned to the object of Max' undiminished attention. "Go fetch a white pill from the box."

The snake dived into the box and came up with the sweet in its fang.

"Give it to Gabrielle."

The snake bent toward the girl and dropped the pill at her hands.

Harry repeated the manoeuver for Thierry, who was somewhat reluctant to take the pill, then for Vivienne, who showed him trust enough to take her pill out of the fangs.

Having restored his arm, Harry bent down to Max. "It's okay, pal - everything's back in order."

The dog sniffed his arm, then licked it, apparently quite satisfied that the green monster was gone.

If Harry had expected to be asked for some other magical tricks, he was wrong. Gabrielle took it for granted he could manage; she was only interested in performances that couldn't be watched everyday. So after the snake spectacle, and since he couldn't offer anything new, she decided it was time to fly broomsticks.

She guided him, the other two children, and the dogs to a storage room near the stables. Inside, Harry found a collection of broomsticks, among them some twin seaters.

He checked the label, which said, Omniair 27 DS. The smallprint told him that DS stood for Double Selle - twin saddles.

He turned to the children. "Who wants to fly?"

They all wanted to, no question about that.

"Okay, then let's go inside and ask your parents first, and then Cho and Viktor."

---

They found the other people sitting comfortably with coffee and cognac. Gabrielle informed her father they were about to fly broomsticks. While basically this had to be rated as a question for allowance, Gabrielle's words reminded Harry more of a press announcement.

Monsieur Delacour found it better to check personally and followed the children outside.

Harry turned to the round. "We need two more pilots. Cho, Viktor, have you ever flown an Omniair 27 DS?"

There was something interesting to notice: not even the name of an unknown broomstick model could drive Ron off the circle - not after Janine had told him that those were family two-seaters of decent speed.

In sharp contrast, the thought of two foreigners, neither of them native English, serving as broomstick pilots for his children brought Monsieur Baillard up pretty quickly. They went outside.

Monsieur Delacour suggested to let the children sit in the front seat and the pilots behind.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't work that way; there's no control from behind."

There was no denying that; however, the two fathers couldn't come to terms with the idea of their children in the back seats.

"I know what to do," said Viktor. "We need safety belts - between the pilots and the kids."

This, unfortunately, was a picture totally different from what Gabrielle had had in mind. Safety belts like for a baby? No thanks.

Cho looked at the girl with surprise on her face. "What's your problem, Gabrielle? We all use safety belts on our broomsticks - me, Harry, Viktor, all the Squad members."

Gabrielle gave Harry a suspicious look. "Is this true?"

Barely able to keep serious, Harry nodded solemnly. "The only way you can fly the Steel Wings. It's even printed in the manual."

Suddenly, the concept of flying without a safety belt seemed rather unprofessional, nearly ridicilous.

There weren't any belts, but there were ropes and the knowledge of two experienced wizard fathers. Five minutes later, three Omniair 27 DSs were manned, mounted, and ready to fly: Harry and Gabrielle, Cho and Vif, and Viktor and Thierry.

Harry gave his young passenger last instructions. "You do the same as I do - if I bend left or right, you bend with me. If I duck, you duck over my back - okay?"

"Yes, 'arry."

"Ready? Up we go." He accelerated.

First of all, Harry checked the Omniair's handling. It was no Steel Wing, no Firebolt either, but definitely a lot better than some cranky old family vehicle. The acceleration was moderate - a sensible thing with a child in the back seat - and the steering was a bit sloppy, probably only in Harry's opinion, which took a high-speed combat broomstick for measure.

He drove an arc, approaching Cho and Vif. Coming closer, he saw Cho grinning madly. She called, "That's a picture I could get used to, Harry."

He blushed. "Each at its own sweet time."

Gabrielle was pounding his back. "Go on, 'arry, let them see what we can do."

A little showing-off - why not? He ran a final check. "You're not going to be seasick?"

He felt her head shaking. "No, not me."

"Hold the belt!" He shot upwards.

The Omniair responded smoothly, gaining speed - no, this wasn't a slow piece, not at all. Half of his mind aware of the body behind him, the hands at his side, Harry bent to the left and started a wide arc, upward, dropping, downward, diving to the ground, with only a few feet of air left underneath, pushing up again, this time a right arc.

A piercing scream of delight reached his ears.

Grinning, he bent more and started a full circle at undiminished speed. He could feel his passenger bend with him, her hands tightly gripping the belt around his waist.

Suddenly, a wave of excitement washed through his mind, a familiar dizziness ... It was her!

He broke the circle, turned upright, and slowed down. "Hey, Gabrielle - watch your Veela power!"

"Pardon, 'arry ... I didn't mean it." She sounded quite embarrassed.

In a more conventional style, he turned to fly back. From behind came a voice, "Er - please, 'arry, don't tell the others."

He patted the hand at his side. "Never - it's something like what Cho said to the Centaur."

The response was the closest thing possible to a hug in mid-air.

For the last stretch back, he selected a manoeuver which was less exciting but required considerably more skill than a simple full-speed circle: a swinging to both sides along the main direction, like a pendulum, called the dancing broomstick. The zig-zagging motion required fine response from the device, giving another proof that Omniairs certainly didn't come cheap.

With the last swing, they touched down right in front of Monsieur Delacour.

The man helped his daughter dismount, then bent to Harry. "To be honest - it was a bit stressful to watch."

Harry dismounted. "I'm sorry, Monsieur Delacour, I didn't - "

He was interrupted. "Never mind, I know perfectly well that you were only following orders."

Gabrielle grabbed Harry's hand to walk inside. They met Fleur, who asked her sister, "How was it to fly with the 'ogwarts champion?"

Something in her sister's answer made Fleur look startled. Her glance followed Gabrielle, who was walking into the salon, then she turned to Harry. "Something wrong?"

"Nope - we were running a bit wild, but then slowed down."

After a second, Fleur started to giggle, then stopped herself. "I see - in order not to lose control, right?"

Harry grinned. "Psst - I'm not supposed to talk."

* * *

Coming inside, Harry found small groups, absorbed in conversations. Madame Delacour, who was sitting with Bill, smiled at him. "Your patience is admirable, 'arry - it's so pleasant. You're really up to the picture Gabrielle is drawing of you."

Harry smiled back. "It's fun - every minute of it." He bent down to stroke the large black dog. "And I could get used to some dogs around."

Madame Delacour asked, "Do you see your godfather often?"

He looked up. "Certainly not as often as we'd like - and when, it's usually because of some trouble. That's one reason why it's nice to pat a large black dog just for nothing."

Gabrielle arrived with the information that they were about to play a game, and that this was impossible without Harry since it required four people.

As it turned out, the game was a kind of quartet, played with cards - except that the pictures on the cards were of course magical, changing their contents in patterns which required an excellent memory. Harry didn't have a chance.

Then it was time for coffee and cake, including those brought as presents from Ron and Hermione. Inevitably, the conversation turned to house-elves, and Ron mentioned Dobby, Harry's greatest admirer - short of Gabrielle, of course.

Hearing about that competition, Gabrielle asked Harry to tell the story of Dobby, and how Harry had managed to free the house-elf.

Harry had no choice - everybody wanted to hear it. When he came to Dobby's role in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur interrupted him. "So it was cheating, 'arry - isn't that so?"

He looked up, surprised. "Sure, it was cheating all the way. Bagman was cheating because he had a high bid running, Mad-Eye Moody - I mean, Crouch - was cheating because I was supposed to be first at the cup. To balance out, I told Cedric about the dragons, and to balance out that, Cedric told me about that ball. For what I know, you and Viktor were the only ones playing fair."

Viktor shook his head. "I wasn't - I couldn't: Karkaroff kept telling me all the time."

Monsieur Delacour turned to his elder daughter. "You see, Fleur - by right and order, you should have been the winner - but I'm awfully glad you weren't. In any case, Dobby's help or not, 'arry deserved his points in that task."

Raoul asked, "Wasn't there a prize for the winner, 'arry?" It earned him a sharp look from his mother.

"Yes," replied Harry, "thousand Galleons. This bloody - er, I mean Fudge, dropped them to me before he stormed out. Then I tried to pass them to Cedric's father, but he wouldn't accept them." Harry grinned. "I found someone else who wasn't involved and therefore had no objections."

Glancing over to Bill, he could see that there was another person in the circle who knew the details.

After all the eating, and with the dinner still ahead, people wanted to have some exercise. This was just fine for Gabrielle, who wanted to move four other legs rather than her own, not counting those of the dogs. And of course, Harry was supposed to ride at her side.

Monsieur Delacour said, "Don't worry; there's a very gentle horse for you."

He was right. Even better, ten-year-old Gabrielle wasn't allowed more than a decent canter, her father made sure of that the only possible way: by leading the group.

Viktor surprised Harry, and maybe also Hermione, with his riding skill. When asked, he said, "Didn't I tell you? I'm a Bulgarian shepherd's son, I was in a saddle at the age of five. What do you think made me the Seeker I am?"

Back from the ride, Gabrielle came to Harry and whispered, "Did you ask Almyra?"

Said Almary was standing steps away. Harry walked to her. "Al - ready to sing and dance for your supper?"

She grinned. "So be it."

---

First, they had to find a leather wristguard for Cho. Then Almyra and Gabrielle disappeared behind the stables - Gabrielle with shining eyes, savouring the privilege of being allowed to watch the transformation.

Moments later, she came running. "She's a falcon - she's a falcon!"

The bird appeared, landed on Cho's arm, and was thrown into the air. After climbing high, and after sailing a circle, it came diving - the same manoeuver Harry had watched behind Hogsmeade.

Then a bird and a girl disappeared once more behind the stables, returning as two girls, both faces beaming.

Inside again, Gabrielle showed first signs of a long and exciting day. In her case, it meant sitting comfortably, with Harry and Cho close by, as well as the Baillou children, and listening to stories.

Careful to avoid tales of violence, Harry told her how he and Ron had come to be friends with Hermione, having Cho as attentive a listener as the children. While talking, he could watch his audience grow by two more people - Viktor and Hermione.

Finishing, Harry said, "Hermione - it's your turn ... I'd think the polyjuice potion is a nice story."

"Oh my God - not that! It was so awful for me - all that hair!"

She shouldn't have said that - not only Gabrielle but also Viktor insisted on hearing the story.

So Hermione first had to tell the story as a lesson how spells could fail, and then had to describe her cat Crookshanks for Gabrielle.

Then Viktor made his contribution by telling about the life of a shepherd's son. It was heavily censored; what Harry heard was a story about a young boy with dogs, mules, horses, and sheep - first-rate tales for a ten-year-old.

With her strong sense of fairness, Gabrielle decided now it was Cho's turn for a story.

So Cho told her about the patrol exam, how she'd been hurt by the bludger and how Lleyrin the Fist had cured her. This was extended by descriptions of Giants in general, how they lived, and how it was to be in a hut tailored for a figure of twenty feet.

Around that time, Gabrielle had obviously recovered. When they were called for dinner, Harry saw her holding Cho, whispering in her ear.

A moment later, he had the opportunity to ask Cho, "What did she tell you?"

"That's none of your business, young man."

He grinned. "I guess I know: she asked what you said to Firenze."

Her expression told him that he was right.

"Did you tell her?"

"Is there something with your ears? I said, that's none - "

He grinned deeper. "This morning, she asked me what you said with that shawl around."

"Did you - oh, very clever, young Potter."

"Then she said she could do it without a shawl, and then she asked whether she should prove it."

"Are you making this up?" Cho's tone was slightly menacing.

He shook his head. "We agreed that you should be asked first."

"Very good ... and very wise of you."

* * *

By now, Harry was prepared for the French dinner technique of small quantities, to be compensated by a never-ending number of courses. He could get used to it - as long as you had nothing else to do the same day.

Ron had adapted very nicely to the environment. He was using his limited amount of French fluently and compensated for the lack of words with quick paraphrasings. He could do it even when talking with someone other than Janine, for example, when asked by Monsieur Delacour what plans he had for the future.

"Basically administration," replied Ron, "only I have something special in mind, and I don't know yet where it can take place. It might turn out the Ministry is the wrong place for that."

"Is the specialty something to discuss here?"

Ron grinned. "Why not? It might be a test ... I think it's time to integrate some Muggle technology into the wizarding world, and that's what I want to do."

Surprised looks could be seen around the table, with a notable exception sitting next to Ron. Harry felt surprised himself; Ron had never talked about this issue before.

Madame Baillard asked, "Could you give an example what you have in mind?"

"The best example I know are photocopiers - I could use them ten times a day. Sure, there are wizard copiers, except they're ridiculously complicated and expensive, compared to the Muggle equivalent."

Monsieur Delacour asked, "And what about social or cultural levels?"

"What I'm thinking about is just some technology," was Ron's answer, "and only as a one-way-street from them to us. It may have cultural effects on us, but otherwise - no, I'm definitely not the big politician who'll attempt to unite the two worlds."

The faces of the Baillard parents made it clear that this concept would hardly find their approval - in obvious contrast to their elder children, and to their hosts. Harry was reminded of the Delacours crossing a cultural bridge twenty years ago, with great success.

Monsieur Delacour found the most elegant way to sail around the cliffs in the conversation. He asked the same question to Almyra, who explained that she would continue with her project, only full-time and - hopefully - with some financial support by the Health Department of the Ministry.

Being the one who'd started the sequence, Monsieur Delacour was expected to continue.

"'ermeeonny - " registering Viktor's grin, the host said, "please pardon my crime toward your name, but what are your plans?"

"Oh - nothing spectacular. I can imagine myself as a teacher at Hogwarts - could be Potions. Even History - I always thought there must be a more attractive way of talking about literature and past events than that flimsy ghost can muster."

Thanks to Fleur, the Delacours knew who Hermione was talking about, and could share the laughter of their guests from Hogwarts.

Then it was Viktor's turn. "Very simple," he said. "A farmer: a lot of cattle, and a lot of children." With a glance at Hermione, he added, "For example, Hogsmeade could be a nice town, considering the possibilities."

Hermione blushed a bit, although not for objections, especially when the Baillards confirmed that farming was the true basis of any decent civilization.

Monsieur Delacour turned to Cho. "What about you, already having roots in two different cultures?"

"I might stick to Chinese traditions," replied Cho, "which means I could warm up to Viktor's model - except for the farm and the cattle, that is."

"To be replaced by what?" asked Monsieur Delacour, smiling.

"Oh - a major group of house-elves would do," answered Cho, raising another round of laughter, even from Hermione. "And some Giants in the neighbourhood - they really can put your perspectives straight."

---

Gabrielle, who had to fight her drooping eyelids, came subtly more awake at the mentioning of Giants, and said, "If you take Lleyrin, you have someone to cure your arm when it's hurt."

Cho smiled. "You're right, Gabrielle - although I wouldn't take a Giant."

"Of course not," said the girl, "you'll take 'arry ... Otherwise, I'd do it."

Into the chuckle around the table, Cho managed to say, "That's generous of you, Gabrielle."

Monsieur Delacour turned to Harry. "In addition to the plans already decided for you, 'arry - are there some of your own?"

Gabrielle was the first to answer. "He will defeat his bad enemy, that nasty Voldemort - isn't it true, 'arry?"

Harry smiled at her, then looked at Monsieur Delacour, his smile fading. "Yes - that's all I know about my future. Although some other people knew long before me."

When the silence around the table became lasting, Madame Delacour asked, "So you're a victim of your fate?"

"A victim?" Harry pondered the thought. "My parents were victims of their fate, yes. Maybe I'm a tool that has to be honed - sometimes it feels like that. But no victim" - he smiled at her - "because I'll come back."

Monsieur Delacour examined him. "How do you know?"

Harry could answer easily. "Because I promised to do it only when I'm ready for it - when I've found a way to do it and to survive." Looking at the sleepy girl at his left side, he added, "It's the only way - remember, I'm supposed to tell Gabrielle."

It broke the silence, although some of the laughter was a bit shaky.

Monsieur Delacour raised his glass - for once not champagne but red wine - and said, "To the day when you'll come to tell Gabrielle."

Gabrielle, now seriously fighting sleep, asked, "When will that be, 'arry?"

"I don't know yet," he said, "but don't hold your breath - it might take a while."

The girl nodded, satisfied with the answer, no longer able to resist suggestions that it was time to go to bed. Harry was hugged, while Cho had the honour to accompany her to the bedroom.

This was also the signal for the guest parties to leave.

With all the shaking hands and saying au revoir, Harry missed the scene he would have liked to watch - the goodbye between Ron and Janine. He had the feeling it wasn't by accident.

After promising they wouldn't wait another year before visiting again, the Hogwarts group was guided back through the two links by Fleur, first to Beauxbatons and from there to their own school basement.

Fleur went back immediately - after all, Bill hadn't been part of the group.

Harry and Cho had a moment alone. Standing close to him, she smiled softly. "It was wonderful to watch you with that girl ... I love you, Harry."

When his mouth was again free to speak, he said, "I have to go - I'll manage just two sentences before falling asleep, and one of them I'll use to ask Ron something."

Cho grinned. "Remind me to ask you what he said - although I think I know, I saw them at the door when I came down the stairs ... Good night."

In his dormitory, Harry sat down on his bed, glanced towards to the other bed, and said, "I'll be gone in a moment, so - in the shortest form possible, Ron, what have you got to say?"

There was nothing of the usual grin when his friend answered, "I wish I'd known her two weeks before - or that there was another ball next Saturday."