Les Potterables

Les Potterables

Act II

Harry sped down the corridor on swift, sure feet, his heart given wings with the certainty that he was Doing the Right Thing. The forthcoming scene played out in his head: Ron on his knees before Snape, weeping and protesting hopelessly. Just as the Potions Master raised an accusing finger, a finger that would damn Ron to an eternity of detention, he, Harry, would fling open the door and proclaim in a commanding tone, a voice to shake the very stones of Hogwarts: 'That boy is innocent! I am the one you want!'

Oh, yes, it would be a glorious moment. The students would whisper his name with awe in the Great Hall. The professors would step aside as he walked down the hallways. Even Peeves would think he was pretty cool. Stories and songs would be told about him after he was gone -

Harry abruptly slowed to a walk. Wait a minute. Gone? He didn't want to be gone, did he? If Snape expelled him from Hogwarts, where would he go? Harry stopped and began to scratch his head vigorously with both hands. Well, Snape couldn't expel him just for being stinky, could he? No, Hagrid would never have gotten into Hogwarts in the first place if there were that sort of a clause. So if he confronted Snape on Ron's behalf, it meant. . . more detention. And he still had seven hours to serve.

More detention. Harry rolled the thought around in his head just to see how it fit. Of course he was supposed to be good and noble and just and all, but. . . it still wasn't fair. One pitcher, a slice of ham, and a bit of stench shouldn't add up to a lifetime of slavery. In a sudden fit of petulance, Harry tore up the ticket that Snape had given him earlier. That made him feel better momentarily, but the real problem was still staring him in the face.

He could just go back to Gryffindor Tower and say that he couldn't find Snape and Ron. That might work, especially if he waited to tell them until everyone was asleep. But he knew in his heart that it wasn't proper mayoral behavior. No, he had to save Ron somehow. But more detention -- !

Then Harry realized it was perfectly simple. All he had to do was clear Ron's name without Snape realizing who he was. Harry smiled and made a quick detour to the kitchen to pick up a few items.

Fifteen minutes later, a very irritated Snape heard a knock on his office door. He scowled and set down the ukulele he had just picked up. What was it now? Another report of that wretched Potter child? Oh, Snape was going to give that brat such heavy detention when he found him the next day! Stinking up Gryffindor Tower and then sneaking off in the middle of the night! He was going to serve another six hours for this!

Just thinking of all the righteous - and perfectly justified - torture he was going to inflict upon Harry put Snape in a better frame of mind. Not that anyone would have known it by the expression on his face when he whipped open the door. The small figure standing in the doorway wrapped in large cloak cringed before setting its shoulders - which were lopsided. Or something. At any rate, it had some sort of large, lumpy hunchback that kept sliding off, forcing the person to reach up and rearrange it periodically. Snape caught a glimpse of an unconvincing bushy mustache and a round red nose that looked suspiciously like a cherry tomato. "Yes?" he asked brusquely, narrowing his eyes.

"Umm." The figure cleared its voice and began again in a lower, more gravely tone. "Umm, that boy you have. It's not him."

"What?"

"He's innocent, I say, innocent!" The bizarre person shifted uncomfortably, as if it were it standing on its knees on a cold stone floor.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Snape, studying the figure before him. He couldn't see much of the face, but this person was familiar.

"The red-haired boy," whined the little person, its voice slipping up half an octave.

"Ron Weasley?" Suddenly it all clicked and Snape knew exactly who was standing before him. As if to confirm his deductions, a wisp of horrid body odor escaped from beneath the cloak. "Ron Weasley has already been released," said Snape advancing.

"Oh - bah. I mean, oh, that's good." The cloaked figure backed clumsily away. "Well, since that's all settled, I'll be going then."

"You're not going anywhere, Potter!" Snape pulled out his wand. Harry stumbled, then rose to his knees and threw back the hood of the cloak. His hunchback - a large head of cabbage - fell onto the floor as he took a breath and squared his shoulders.

"Believe of me what you will! There is a duty that I'm sworn to do -- "

"Potter," growled Snape. He took another step and snatched the dangling cherry tomato from Harry's nose. "I've grown weary of your antics. Give me your ticket. You will serve six more hours of detention tomorrow -- "

"You would rather see me dead! But not before I see this justice done!"

"What are you blathering about, Potter?" growled Snape, looming frighteningly close.

"I am warning you Herr Snape, I'm the stronger man by far! There is power in me yet! My race is not yet run!"

Snape, fed up with the shrill, soprano-esque singing, seized Harry by the collar. This turned out to be something of a mistake, for just at that moment Harry was raising his arms dramatically. Snape got a nose-full of Harry's pits - and Snape had a sizeable nose. He stumbled back, gagging.

Harry paused in his singing and blinked at his professor wonderingly. He couldn't quite figure out why Snape had suddenly let go of him. Until he remembered - God was on his side! Of course! With a happy 'bah,' Harry dashed off down the hall. "Come back here, Potter!" cried Snape, infuriated. But his voice was choked and muffled and it was easy for Harry to pretend he hadn't heard it.

Free again. But Harry knew he had to be cunning now. He was a fugitive. It would probably be wise for him to seek out a hiding place where Snape could never, never find him. This was going to be difficult, as Harry had no intention of leaving Hogwarts, but when God was on your side all things were possible.

And also, he had to keep Ron safe. Because he had promised. And anyway, maybe Snape would take out his anger against Harry on Ron. It wasn't logical, but it fit in with the script in Harry's head. Thinking of all the good he had yet to do for the world, Harry climbed into a suit of armor to get some sleep.

* * * * *

At about six o' clock the suit of armor puked Harry out, not being able to stand the stench an instant longer. Harry landed squishily on the floor and yawned. He was not disoriented. He knew there were marvelous deeds waiting to be performed by him. Somewhere, tucked away in Gryffindor Tower, poor dear little Ron was waiting to be rescued. Harry's heart quavered at the thoughts of all the abuse Ron had suffered. But soon his misery would be at an end. Harry was coming for him!

But first things first. Harry pulled out the Cornucopia and the Bottomless Goblet and had a leisurely breakfast of bacon, sausage, fried onions, and pumpkin juice. Belching richly and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he glanced out the window. By the position of the sun, he gauged it to be about eight - it was mentioned that Harry had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, wasn't it? - which meant that the students should be getting ready to go to the Great Hall. Most of the corridors would still be empty. It was the perfect time to act.

It wasn't difficult for a professional skulker like Harry to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower unseen. But what he saw on the steps leading to the common room made him feel all tender and soft and gooey and poignant inside. For there, lo and behold, was the object of his quest. Ron Weasley stood on the steps, trying valiantly to lug a huge and heavy satchel along beside him.

Poor wee lad! thought Harry, his heart melting with sympathy. He walked quietly up alongside the struggling Ron. "That bag looks very heavy, my boy," he commented softly.

Ron jumped nearly fifteen feet in the air. "Don't do that, Harry!" he gasped as he landed. "You frightened the piss out of me!"

"Don't be scared," said Harry in a gentle, soothing tone of voice that had the effect of completely freaking Ron out. "I'm here to help you. I'll take you away from this terrible place."

"Umm. . . but I like Hogwarts," Ron protested.

"So brave!" cooed Harry as took hold of the satchel's strap. Ron, fearing Harry might pat him or even hug him, backed up a wary step. Harry pulled the bag over his shoulder, grunting with the effort, and began ascending the staircase. He sang "La la la la la la la la," in a shrill, annoying falsetto as he climbed.

"Hey! Harry! I was going down to breakfast!" Ron trailed after the unhearing Boy-Who-Lived, wondering what sorts of delusions were running rampant in Harry's brain this time.

The common room was fairly empty, most of the students having gone down to breakfast. Hermione and Neville sat at one of the tables, still trying to correct the damage Harry had done to Neville's homework the night before. Hermione glanced up as Harry's 'la la las' broke in on her concentration. "Oh, there you are -- " she began, but Harry had already started singing.

"I found him struggling on the stairs, this little boy I found him trembling in the hallway!"

"Hey!" cried Ron, who resented being called 'a little boy' by Harry.

"And I am here to help this lad, don't you bother getting mad, it's only proper! I will pay what I must pay to take dear Ron away!"

"Fine," said Hermione, returning to the work.

"I'm not for sale!" protested Ron, but Harry had a full head of steam by now and wasn't listening to anyone.

"For there is a duty I must heed. There's a promise I have made. For I was blind to one in need! I did not see what stood before me!" Tears ran down Harry's cheeks at his own beneficence. Ron tried to take the satchel back, but Harry's hand tightened possessively on the strap.

"Now his mother is with god!" Harry wailed. "Molly's suffering is over!"

"What?!" exclaimed Ron, horrified.

"And I speak here with her voice! And I stand here - oh, bah, uh, forget that last bit," said Harry, suddenly realizing he had gone a bit too far.

"Harry, just wash up and go down to breakfast," said Hermione. "I'm sure they'll start serving bacon again sooner or later. Just be patient."

"This isn't about bacon, Hermione," said Harry sternly, holding back a juicy pork belch. "It's about honor and doing the right thing and stuff like that. You wouldn't understand," he added insultingly.

For all her intellect, this was exactly the sort of statement Hermione couldn't let slide. "What wouldn't I understand?" she bristled.

"Honor and loyalty and noble stuff like that," replied Harry. He took a deep breath: "And from this day and ever more Ron will live in my protection! I will not forsake my vow! Ron will have a father now!"

"I already have a father," said Ron, growing testy. "Unless you're telling me he's dead as well? I'm confused. Can't we just go to breakfast?"

"Right," snapped Hermione, "fifty Galleons."

Neville, Ron, and Harry all goggled at her. "What?"

"Fifty Galleons for Ron. You did say you'd pay to take him away, didn't you?" She smiled a faintly evil smile.

Harry kicked at the rug. "Well, bah, fifty Galleons seems awfully high for Ron," he complained.

"Hey!"

"Yes, but you're good and noble and self-sacrificing and all that," Hermione reminded him. Then she dug in the knife: "It's what a proper mayor would do."

Harry swallowed hard and frantically searched for his conscience again. His conscience, which was getting annoyed at being bothered so often, popped up with a cranky 'yes' before burrowing deeper into Harry's fetid soul in search of a hiding place. "Oh, all right," grumbled Harry, digging into his pockets.

"Hey!" said Ron again, but his ire subsided when Hermione passed him twenty Galleons. He decided it would be better to play along for a while. Hermione passed ten onto Neville in repayment for his homework and pocketed the remaining twenty herself.

Harry watched this exchange of money with his head held high. He even managed an indifferent sniff as he took Ron's hand in his own. "Come dear Ron, say goodbye. Let us seek out a friendlier sky." He stared down his nose at Hermione and Neville. "Thank you both for dear Ron. It won't take you too long to. . . err, get your groove on!" he improvised hastily.

"Sure, Ron's all yours," said Hermione, gathering up pens and parchment. "See you at breakfast." She and Neville exited the room. "'Get you groove on', that was horrible," she muttered as she left. Harry couldn't shake the sensation that he'd been taken advantage of, but he knew he was too noble to complain. Besides, God would smite the evil people for him if necessary.

"Can we go to breakfast now, Harry?" asked Ron. His stomach was rumbling.

"No," replied Harry sadly. "I'm a fugitive."

"Oh, right. You have detention." Ron nodded. "You should probably go report to Snape."

Harry drew himself up. "I shall never go back to detention! I'd rather die first!"

"That's a little inconvenient." Ron was beginning to worry that he would be punished for associating with Harry. Then the Galleons clinked in his pocket and he decided a little detention might be worth it anyway. "So what are we going to do?"

"We'll go to Paris!" proclaimed Harry.

Ron blinked. "Paris?"

"Paris!"

* * * * *

'Paris' turned out to be the Beauxbatons' flying carriage. Well, you couldn't expect Harry to actually head for France, could you? It would be filled with foreigners for a start, and that just wouldn't do.

The Invisibility Cloak was just large enough to fit over both their heads. No one noticed as they crossed the lawn and slipped into the flying carriage. Harry had a moment of panic when he first saw the carriage and thought about how hard it was going to be to remain hidden inside with all the Beauxbatons living there. As it turned out, he needn't have worried. Like most other wizard dwelling, it was far larger inside than it was outside.

Truth to tell, it was about half the size of Hogwarts on the inside. He shouldn't have been surprised. If the carriage had been as small as it looked on the outside, all the Beauxbatons students would have arrive at Hogwarts green and puking from being pulled around all over the sky.

"Wowie," muttered Harry, glancing around. He wasn't sure he was pleased. Something about the arrangement smacked of wogs trying to out-do the proper British-type folk. Ron was too busy rubbernecking, hoping for a glimpse of Fleur, to respond.

"Well, at least we can easily remain hidden here," decided Harry out loud. He figured he could always destroy the carriage later if he felt he couldn't live with the jealousy.

"Where do you think their bedrooms are?" asked Ron. Harry frowned. He felt Ron's thoughts were straying down a path not proper to his chaste and innocent young ward.

"We won't be staying near their bedrooms, Ron," he chided gently. "That would make us easy to spot."

"But. . . but maybe they'd have sympathy and hide us in their closets or. . . or under their beds!" Ron's eyes glowed.

Yes, his thoughts were not in the place they should be. But Harry came up with a brilliant idea. "You'd better be in disguise, Ron," he decided. After all, his hunchback costume had been such a success with Snape last night.

"Why?"

"They're looking for you."

"They are?" asked Ron, bewildered. The whole morning had been so strange that he had lost track of what had actually happened and what was a figment of Harry's imagination. "Aren't you the one who has detention?"

"Oh, yes, they're looking for me too. We'll both be in disguise."

"Oh, okay," agreed Ron. Disguises were a rather cool idea. Besides, the only alternative was going around under the Invisibility Cloak all day and Harry's smell was starting to get to Ron.

* * * * *

"Drat that boy! Drat and blast that boy!" Snape paced another half circle through the confines of his office. The Potions Master was in a truly foul mood; the slimy objects in jars on the shelves quivered as he passed. "Where is he? Did he think I forgot about his detention? Or about his behavior last night? Or his smell?" At the very memory, Snape took a bottle of apple cider vinegar out of his pocket and inhaled deeply. Feeling slightly better, he corked the bottle and checked the clock again. Quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes late. Was the little scut skulking around the halls? Or was he still snuffling about the Great Hall, hoping to encounter a small crumb of pig? Maybe he just thought that if he could escape detention for the day everyone would shrug and forget all about it.

Well, it was just not going to happen. Snape was going to find the Potter boy and make his life a misery. He'd give him detention every weekend for the rest of the year if he had his way. "I will smite him until he can be smote no more!" cried Snape aloud, looking heavenward and clasping a hand on his breast. The false Alastor Moody, thumping by outside, rolled his magical blue eye.

"Someone's cracking," he observed.

* * * * *

"There! It's perfect!" cried Harry in delight.

"It's a dress," Ron contradicted glumly. "Come on, Harry, aren't those frilly robes Mum got me bad enough?"

"Oh, but it's a very simple black dress," Harry crooned. "And so much in the mode! And no one will know it's you anyway, Ron. That's the point."

Now Ron didn't have a mirror, but somehow it didn't seem possible that his lanky, red-haired self could completely change appearance simply by putting on a frock. At least he could console himself with the fact that Harry looked even more stupid. Harry had found an old-fashioned uniform, like something a giant nutcracker might wear, in one of the closets and had made himself a false beard out of a wad of cotton. He'd stuffed his shirt with some extra cotton to give himself a paunch and was clattering about on black shiny boots with enormous heels.

"They'll never find us now," Harry continued confidently.

"Unless they look," said Ron.

Harry popped a ratty blonde wig on Ron's head and tied a lace doily around his neck. Ron decided not to complain anymore. Together they set out to explore Paris.

* * * * *

"Oh, there you are Snape, old boy," Dumbledore beamed.

Snape eyed the headmaster with intense dislike. "What do you want sir?" he asked, snarling mentally at the 'old boy' bit.

There was a pause as Dumbledore carefully uncrossed his eyes. "Well, you see, there's a disturbance in the Beauxbaton's carriage -- "

"Something to do with Potter?" Snape asked at once.

"Harry? Dear me, I think not." From the blandly beneficent expression on Dumbledore's face, he had entirely forgotten about Potter's transgressions. "It's our foreign guests," said Dumbledore. "They've made, hmm, a few complaints about the atmosphere of the Great Hall."

"Have our students been saying unkind things about them?" asked Snape.

"No, no, no, no, no. I was speaking a trifle more literally. The atmosphere. You know -- " Dumbledore let out a little naughty-boy giggle, increasing Snape's loathing of him by several notches. "The smell."

"Oh." The farting. Yes, Snape understood now. But he didn't see why anyone should pay attention to the complaints of a bunch of foreigners when they hadn't listened to him for years. Damned wogs should just suck it up, keep a stiff upper lip and all that. "So what do you intend to do about it?" asked Snape. "Cast a few spells to clear the air?"

"Oh, no," replied Dumbledore. "Damned woggies can suck it up with the rest of us."

Snape decided Dumbledore wasn't entirely bad after all.

"No, I want you to go to the carriage and find out who's behind the trouble," continued Dumbledore. "Catch the ringleaders if you can."

"With pleasure," said Snape. Ah, just what he needed; a chance to work off his ire against an unsuspecting target.

* * * * *

"Wowie, there sure are a lot of students here!"

"Yes, Ron." Harry smiled indulgently. Ron was so naïve - it was just adorable. They were walking through a section of the carriage that had been decorated with hanging plants and fountains. It seemed to serve as a sort of giant meeting room; there were benches scattered here and there.

"I didn't think there were that many students from Beauxbatons here," Ron continued, gawking about. "These French girls sure are pretty, aren't they?"

"Not half so pretty as you."

Ron felt that this remark should have been made as a joke, but there was something frightfully sincere about Harry's tone, so he emitted an uneasy laugh and tried to forget about it. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, we'll just stroll around for a bit."

That was okay by Ron. It gave him a chance to admire the girls. He just rather wished Harry hadn't insisted on the dress. It would be awkward if they ran into Fleur. He also wished Harry hadn't linked his arm through Ron's. That would be even harder to explain if --

"Harry? Ron?"

Ron flinched before he realized that the young female voice did not belong to Fleur. Still, it was a familiar voice, at least to Ron.

"Ginny," he asked, "what are you doing here?"

"Ginny? Oh, bah." Harry vaguely recognized the red-haired girl now that he saw her.

"I could ask you the same question." Ginny eyed Ron's getup, her shoulders shaking with the effort of not laughing. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

Ron flushed. Having Ginny see him like this was maybe worse than Fleur. She might tell the twins. "We're going to play a prank on someone," he lied.

"Oh." Ginny sounded dubious. Her eyes flicked to Harry, who was ignoring her. "I see. Who?"

"Can't tell. You'll spoil it."

"No I wouldn't. I'd help." She glanced at Harry again, but he was adjusting his cotton paunch.

"We don't need help."

"I think you need all the help you -- Oh no!" Ginny's face went pale. "You'd better get out of here."

"Why?"

"Just - just go!" She scampered off. Ron stared after her, puzzled. "Hey! You never said why you're here! Wait!" Ron dodged around a potted plant in an attempt to catch up with his sister, only to find himself face to face with -

A series of soft notes, like the chiming of happy bells played out in Ron's head. His eyes bugged and his heart turned flip-flops.

Viktor Krum stared a moment at the tall, gawky girl with the ratty hair and grimaced. "I didn't see you there. Forgive me," he told her, and was rewarded by a grin of tremendous soppiness and the impression that at any moment she might swoon into his arms. Viktor looked desperately around for Fleur, hoping he hadn't come to the wrong place. No, there she was, wearing a stylish black dress with medals clanking on the front lapels. Political activism had made Fleur rather strange.

"Where are the teachers of Hogwarts?" Fleur demanded, striding up, "where are the jerks who allow that stench?"

"I didn't think they were invited," replied Viktor, somewhat distracted by the fact that the gawky English girl was clinging to his hand. "Flitwick at least agrees with us."

They were speaking in French. Harry wrinkled his nose and peeled Ron away from Viktor. Ron continued to stare in rapt fascination. "What do you think they're talking about?" he asked.

"Oh, some wog - I mean foreigner stuff," said Harry, remembering that he was good and noble and had to be charitable to poor dumb foreigners.

"Is that different from English stuff?" Ron asked, but before Harry could answer they were interrupted.

"Harry! What are you doing here in that ridiculous get-up?"

It was Hermione. This is what Ginny had tried to warn them of. Neville stood a couple steps behind her. Harry jumped and then hastily adjusted his cotton wool beard so that it covered most of his face. "I don't know what you're talking about, young lady," he said, attempting a gruff voice. "And shouldn't you be in class?"

Hermione harrumphed. Her eyes passed over Ron, but she decided not to comment on his presence just yet. "I'm taking a special Muggle Studies course for extra credit. Neville and Ginny and I are interviewing the Beauxbatons to learn about Muggles in other countries. You're the one who's not supposed to be here. You have detention. You're going to get yourself in even more trouble."

"You must have mistaken me for someone else," said Harry. Ron tried to hide behind his left shoulder.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Get back to the castle and -- "

"Look out! Here comes Snape!" called Ginny, from the back of the room. Viktor and Fleur, who knew the terrain better than the English students, vanished.

"Now you're in for it," said Hermione as the black cloaked form of the Potions Master came sweeping into the room. Harry turned up the collar of his coat.

Snape stopped in the center of the walkway, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed and determined. Everyone fell silent around him as those eyes searched the room for a victim. They settled on Hermione. "Granger," he said coldly. "Why are you bothering the foreign students? Why aren't you in class?"

"Because I'm interviewing the Beauxbatons for the special Muggle Studies course!" said the exasperated Hermione, producing a slip of paper.

Snape's eyes narrowed further. He didn't entirely approve of that course. It involved Muggles. "You should conduct the interviews after class hours."

"We have permission from Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, flapping the piece of paper.

Damn. Ms. Granger was exactly the sort to try a spot of rabble-rousing, but permission from McGonagall was the Hogwarts equivalent of owning the Holy Grail. No one wanted to cross that woman. Then again, he was on a mission from Dumbledore, which, although it was not quite the same as being on a mission from God, still carried some weight. "There will be no further interviewing today," he announced. "No arguments!" he added when Hermione opened her mouth.

"But I can't get out of class tomorrow!"

"That is not my concern. Points will be taken if you make any more complaints." Snape dismissed her from his mind scanned the area for other troublemakers. Some people had frozen against the scenery in hopes of being overlooked. Others. . . two others were turning a corner at some speed. Snape's eyes narrowed.

Hermione noticed the direction of his gaze. "Oh, yes, those were the ones you should have punished," she said with a loud sniff.

It was a daring piece of effrontery. Snape slowly turned around and glared, but Hermione held her ground. "That was the one you were looking for. I'm surprised the smell didn't give him away at once."

Smell. Snape rolled the word around his mind, letting it gather all the lint of his thoughts. There weren't many. Right now, the word 'smell' was very firmly attached to one particular individual. "Smell," he repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes, smell. Now, may we go, Professor?" asked Hermione. And, when he didn't reply at once, she added: "And remember, I'm the one who told you where to find him."

"I don't need your help, Granger," said Snape. "Let the small twot keep on running. I shall run him off his feet!"

"Uh, Professor?" asked Neville worriedly. All this sudden singing was really starting to bother him.

"Every one about your business, clear this garbage off the street!" Snape concluded, unheeding.

"Oh, fine." Hermione put away her permission slip and flounced off. "Come on, Neville, Ginny. Someone's cracking," she added, quite audibly.

Snape did not hear. He was staring at the ceiling as if a holy message had been printed there for his eyes alone. A white radiance bathed his face. "There, out in the darkness, a student is running. Running from trouble, God be my witness. I never shall yield 'til we come face to face! 'Til we come face to face!"

The students gave him a wide berth and let him get on with it. They pretended everything was normal, even when Snape fell to his knees and swore to see Harry Potter safe behind bars.

"These English are mad!" whispered one student to another.

"I hope it isn't catching."

"Severus? Severus, what are you doing?"

Snape blinked. It was the voice, not the words, which had cut through the fog of vengeance that clouded his hearing. A slightly hoarse voice. "Lupin?" he said disbelieving.

"'Tis."

Snape suddenly realized that he was on his knees with his hands folded against his breast as if awaiting applause. Not the sort of position he cared to confront one of his most hated enemies in. He scowled and stood. "What on earth are you doing here? You were fired."

"I resigned," Lupin contradicted. He took a long drink from a bottle, looking quite cheerful about the situation. Snape just knew he was saving the on-the-knees incident for future shaming and his scowl deepened.

"You resigned because you knew you were going to be sacked."

"Good timing on my part then." Lupin wiped his mouth. "And I'm here because I was hired by Beauxbatons Academy to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I speak French, you know."

"No, I didn't. And I don't care. Do they know you're a werewolf?"

"Yes, they do. And they don't care."

"The more fools them." Snape glowered vaguely around the room. He had the feeling he'd lost whatever edge he'd had to begin with. All the students in sight had taken up perfectly innocuous activities. Not a rabble-rouser among them.

"Looking for someone, Severus?" asked Lupin, just a bit too innocently.

Snape glowered. "Shouldn't you be off doing something useful, like teaching?"

"Shouldn't you? At Hogwarts? I mean, just what are you doing squatting around - I mean, wandering around the Beauxbatons' carriage anyway?"

Snape ground his teeth, but realized that any explanation could compromise the integrity of his mission. "I will return," he spat, and stalked off. His walk was stiffer than usual, as if he'd had an iron rod inserted up a certain orifice. Lupin watched him go, raising his bottle for another drink.

"Someone's cracking," he said.

* * * * *

The Beauxbatons' carriage was filled with many side avenues and separate rooms. Off to one side, concealed in a corner, was a small café. Because it was so inconveniently located, one might have expected it to be virtually empty. One would be mistaken. Today, at least, it was bustling. Students bustled about, debating, sorting through books and papers, making notes on a board on the wall. In the center of it all was And Fleur Delacour. Remus Lupin entered unnoticed, headed for a corner, and went on with his drinking. He watched the students' frenetic activity with detached interest.

"I've found the rules governing unacceptable smells in public dwellings!" cried one, waving an open book.

"Here are the guidelines for proper behavior towards visiting students," called another, paging through a sheaf of notes.

"The Durmstrangs have signed the petition! They're all on our side!""

Fleur nodded. The time was near, so near it was stirring the blood in their veins. Soon they would present their case to Dumbledore and the other headmasters. And then, certainly, something would have to be done about that terrible aroma in the Great Hall. It had to be done before the Yule Ball or the whole place was likely to go up in smoke the instant someone lit a candle. "Do you have the Durmstrang petition?" she asked. Their support was particularly important.

"No, Viktor's bringing it."

Fleur looked around, surprised and annoyed to note that Viktor Krum hadn't arrived yet. What was keeping him? Did he get lost whenever he wasn't inside a Quidditch stadium, or had he caught a glimpse of something small and gold and gone off to pursue it?

She'd barely formed the thought when Viktor came wandering in, a dazed expression upon his face. "Viktor, you're late," Fleur snapped.

"What's wrong today?" called Lupin. "You look as if you've seen a goat."

Viktor pondered. "A goat?"

"Well, something four-legged, odiferous, and hairy," replied Lupin shrugging.

Viktor considered again. Apart from the 'four-legged' bit, it sounded fairly accurate. "A goat you say? A goat maybe. She looked a lot like a goat to me. One minute there and she vas gone!"

"I think you'd be glad," said Fleur with a sniff.

"Vell, I'm not. She had a stalkerish look about her." Viktor glanced around nervously, half-expecting to see her crouched in a corner.

"Forget about your fan club for a while. This is more important." Fleur drew herself up. "It is time for us all to decide who we are -- "

"Vhy are you singing?" asked Viktor.

"Was I? Oh, well, I'm sure I was just trying to rouse up a bit of spirit for the troops. Which is more than you're doing with your mooning over your new flame."

"That girl is not my new flame!" Viktor retorted. "Had you been there today you might know how it feels to be gawked at so hard by a girl with the face of a goat! Had you been there today you might -- "

"Now you're singing."

"If you're allowed, I'm allowed."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"I'm the leader and I say you're not."

"That's not very democratic."

"We're not fighting for democracy. We're fighting to put an end to the stink in the Great Hall."

"Amen to that." Lupin saluted them with his bottle. "So what say we not fight among ourselves, comrades?"

"Oh, all right. What should we do then?"

"Uh. . . we could sing!"

So they sang about worlds about to dawn and the blood of angry men and nights that finally ended, and they all felt much better.

"Woo-hoo! I'm all ready to smash up Hogwarts and build barricades now!" cried Fleur. Lupin choked on his drink.

"I thought you were just going to send politely worded petitions to Dumbledore?"

"Barricades would be more fun," said a student.

"He's right, they would," agreed Fleur.

"Yes, but you just can't start smashing things up without a reason!" Lupin protested.

Gabrielle ran into the room. "They're serving ham sandwiches for lunch!" she shouted. "And pork and beans too!"

"A reason! A reason!" whooped the students. Fleur leaped to her feet, whipping a red silk scarf from her pocket.

"To the barricades! To the barricades!" she shouted, waving it maniacally.

The students ran out of the café shrieking and tearing things up at random.

Fleur was right. It did look like fun. Lupin sighed deeply and followed after, wondering where this French custom of running out into the street and destroying everything in sight when you didn't agree with something had arisen.

Viktor was left behind. He just couldn't quite whip up the enthusiasm for a revolution just yet. Not with the memory of those glaring blue eyes haunting him. The back of his neck seemed to prickle and he jumped at shadows. No, he had to find this girl and ask her politely to never come near him again. If there was a polite way to make such a request, that is.

Ginny was hanging around outside the café making notes in a half-hearted sort of way. Viktor tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up. Unlike her brother, Ginny had actually made an attempt to get to know Viktor instead of holding him in awe, and since she didn't treat him like a mega-star they got on fine. "What?" she asked.

"Did you see that girl in the black dress earlier?" Viktor asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of Ginny's mouth but she held it in. "Yes. Why?"

"I vant to talk to her."

"Oh." Ginny considered. She could allay Viktor's worries by telling him that 'the girl' was just her brother in a dress, but then again -

Then again, it would be more amusing to see Viktor confront Ron. And Ron was hanging around with Harry Potter.

Ginny sighed deeply. Gushily. Her attraction to Harry was something she didn't understand herself, but there it was. And if she took Viktor to see Ron, she'd get a glimpse of Harry as a reward. "I can find her," she told him, and Viktor looked relieved.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't just yet," she replied.

* * * * *

Harry and Ron had found a little out-of-the-way nook to seclude themselves in behind a wrought iron gate. Harry went to scope out the terrain, leaving Ron to wander alone. Ron sat on a bench, meditating on his first up-close and personal look into Viktor Krum's face. The urge to sing about his tender feelings welled over him like a thick film of treacle, but he put that down to Harry's influence and suppressed it.

"Did he see what I saw? Does he feel what I feel?" Ron monologued. Oh, perhaps they could be great mates after all, he and Viktor. Then he'd get tickets to all the best Quidditch games and his picture in the paper. And er, well, there should be something in it for Viktor as well, right? Well maybe his Mum could cook a few meals for him then. Did Viktor like veal and ham pie? "If only he'd find me now, find me here!" Ron lamented.

There was a small noise a few feet behind his left shoulder and Ron turned his head excitedly, thinking maybe his prayers had been answered. But it was only Harry, coming in through the gate. "Dear Ron, you're such a lonely child!" sang Harry affectionately. "How pensive, how sad you seem to be. Believe me, were it within my power, I'd fill each passing hour -- "

"That's not necessary, Harry," said Ron, feeling his skin try to creep away from Harry's excessive tenderness.

"How quiet it must be with only me for company!"

Ron sort of shrugged. 'Quiet' was not the adjective he'd use to describe the day thus far. 'Weird' was one and 'stupid' was possibly another. "So are just going to hang around here until afternoon or what?" he asked.

Harry looked at him sternly. "You will learn. Truth is given by God to us all in our time, in our turn." He exited again, probably for a session on the pot.

Ron stared after him. "I just wanted to know if we were going to get some lunch!"

There was another noise behind him. This time it couldn't possibly be Harry. Tingling all over, Ron turned to look.

It was Viktor Krum. Standing there with uncertainty all over his face. "Umm, miss," he began. Ron could barely hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. He tried to say something, but his tongue seemed to be dancing a jig of excitement and couldn't keep still enough to actually form words.

"I'm doing this wrong," muttered Viktor to himself, frustrated. Just as he feared, this tall, gangly girl was having palpitations over him. It was at time like this that he wished he could play Quidditch in a paper bag so no one would ever know what he looked like. Still, it wasn't the girl's fault - exactly - and he didn't want to be rude and tell her to bugger off and never come within thirty feet of him ever again. "Ah, vhat's your name?" he asked, feeling that would be a start.

"Um, I'm. . . " Ron remembered he was wearing a dress. "Uh, Ronette."

Viktor didn't bat an eyelash. Wizards had been christened with much more stupid names than 'Ronette.' "Ronette. . . I don't know what to say -- "

"Then make no sound!" breathed Ron.

Viktor lost his train of thought as well as his command of the English language. "I am lost."

"I am found!"

Ginny watched the confrontation from a distance with a mixture of amusement and depression. Harry was nowhere in sight, which meant, as far as she was concerned, this mission was a failure. Still, it was amusing to see the soppy looks Ron kept throwing at Viktor and Viktor's obvious discomfort with said looks. Having a dress on really changed Ron's personality; he was simpering and casting coy glances over a shoulder. No wonder Viktor looked uncomfortable.

She was so wrapped up in watching the pair that when a hand tapped her on the shoulder, she nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Calm down, Ginny," said Hermione, frowning slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was -- " Ginny remembered that neither Ron nor Viktor was really supposed to be hanging around the Beauxbatons' carriage. "Just looking for people to interview," she improvised hastily.

"Around here?" Hermione's frown deepened as she peered through the gates. "That's Ron. He shouldn't be here. And I bet Harry's hanging around somewhere too, isn't he?" She started to walk away. Ginny grabbed her arm.

"What are you going to do?"

"To tell Professor McGonagall, of course." Then, when Ginny looked horror-struck, she continued more kindly: "It's really for the best. If the foreign professors find out that they're here they'll raise an awful row. Probably think Harry's cheating in the Triwizard Tournament."

"But you can't! Harry will get more detention!"

Hermione snorted. "And serves him right too." She pulled her arm free. "You should go back to Hogwarts too, Ginny. Snape's in a bad mood."

"No! I won't let you do it! I - I'll warn them!"

"What?" asked Hermione, genuinely puzzled.

Ginny ran to the gate. "Get out of there! You've been spotted!"

"Oh, clever!" Hermione threw up her arms. "Fine, but I'm still telling. Harry's going to get caught sooner or later unless he learns to behave himself." She exited. A second later Viktor squeezed through the gate.

"You saved the day there," he panted.

"Yes, if Professor Snape had caught you -- "

"No, I think that girl vas trying to kiss me!"

Ginny covered up a snort of laughter. "We'd better get out of here before Hermione starts telling on everyone," she said, and they hurried off.

Ron was left behind, looking very forlorn. Nearly two minutes later, Harry appeared. "My god, Ron -- "

"Ronette," Ron corrected.

"Oh, yeah, that does scan better!" Harry took a breath and continued: "I heard a cry in the dark! I heard the shout of angry voices in the street!"

"Yeah, and where were you?" asked Ron. "That was ages ago."

Harry looked snotty. "Things were at a delicate stage." He peered through the gate. "Who shouted?"

"That was me," said Ron. He didn't want Harry to know he'd been hanging around with the Viktor Krum. No, that moment was Ron's entirely, and he was going to savor it.

Now even on the pot Harry should never have been able to mistake Ginny's voice for Ron's, but he assumed that wearing a dress was simply making Ron more sweet and feminine. "I bet it's that old Snape looking for us. We'd better go elsewhere. I mean - this is a warning to us all! These are the shadows of the past. Must be Herr Snape! He's found -- "

"What, we're leaving?" asked Ron, catching on at last.

"Yep, tomorrow to Calais and then a ship across the sea," Harry nodded.

Ron had no idea what Calais was, (neither did Harry) but the idea of leaving the carriage stuck in his mind. Leaving meant he'd never have a chance to be alone with Viktor Krum again. "But -- "

"Hurry Ronette and say no more, tomorrow we'll away! Hurry Ronette, it's time to close another door and live another day!" Harry dashed off again, probably to say farewell to his chamber pot.

And all around Hogwarts, people were left to their reflections. This was complicated.

"One day more," sang Harry from the bathroom. "Another day another twist of fate. All I want are pork chops on my plate. But these teachers want to punish me and cannot simply let me be! One day more."

"I felt so safe until today," mused Viktor. "How can I feel safe vhen she is lurking?"

"I wish that Harry'd let us stay!" wailed Ron. "But none of my arguments are working!"

Ginny sighed. "One more day being ignored."

"Vill I have to see her again?"

"One more day without my Harry!"

"I was born to be his friend!" Ron lamented.

"And though I know he's off his gourd -- "

"Vill my nightmare ever end?"

" -- I still love him anyway!"

Fleur emerged triumphantly from her wardrobe wearing a brilliant red dress with gold lace trim. She flourished a can of air freshener. "One more day before we clean!"

"Is it safe to go outside?" wondered Viktor.

"Or build barricades 'round Hogwarts!"

"Vould I be safer up a tree?"

"I swear that we'll make quite a scene -- "

"Vill I never be set free?"

" - if the Great Hall isn't aired!"

"The time is now, the day is here!" cheered Fleur's followers excitedly.

"One day more!" wailed Harry, doing up his trousers. It was hard to know exactly what he was referring to, and probably preferable not to think too much on the subject.

Snape stood in his office, dressing up in a pile of robes that he'd nicked from Goyle. They'd make the perfect disguise for what he had in mind. He was almost smiling as he gazed into the mirror. "One day to their demonstration. I've no patience with such rot. I will join these little school kids and give detention to the lot!"

"Watch 'em run amuck," said Hermione, watching with disgust, "see them huff and puff. Doesn't anyone realize this is silly stuff? Harry is a twit. Fleur's a drama queen. And now Snape is joining in - it's just so obscene!"

"One day to some freer breathing!" cheered the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. "Get the rags and cleansers out!"

"Get the rags and cleansers out!" echoed others, taking up the cry. They started doing a little shuffling dance in synchronicity.

"There is fresh air for the winning!"

"There is fresh air to be won!"

"Do you hear the students shout?"

"My place is here, I fight vith you," decided Viktor, clapping a hand on Fleur's shoulder.

"Careful, that's silk," she warned him.

"One day more!" wailed Harry, standing on the pot and waving his arms above his head.

"I felt so safe until today!"

"One more day being ignored!"

"I will join these stupid students, I will know the things they know!"

"One day more!"

"Watch 'em run amuck. God they're really dumb. This lot couldn't tell their elbow from their bum!"

"And we could be such great friends!"

"Tomorrow we'll run far away, tomorrow we'll ear pork all day -- "

All around Hogwarts: "Tomorrow we'll discover just what the heck there is in store -- "

"Excuse me," broke in Lupin, "why is everyone singing?"

A brief silence. Then everyone decided to ignore the question. "One more dawn! One more day! One day more!" Fleur flourished her aerosol again as night fell over Hogwarts.

Lupin shrugged and took another swig from his bottle. Either he'd had too much to drink or he hadn't had enough, and he knew which answer he preferred.

End Act II