22 - Contingency

In the wake of the confrontation, Harry left the castle as quickly as possible. Barely maintaining control – part of him was horrified by what he'd just done – he strode purposefully through the empty halls, desperate to escape. Anger and fear warred within, and he wouldn't be able to suppress them for much longer.

Fawkes rode out the trip unnoticed on his arm, swaying to and fro like some sort of avian surfer.

Harry was shaking uncontrollably by the time he reached the entrance hall. He paused just inside the enormous doors and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes against a torrent of raging emotion. He did his best to stifle it, but his efforts didn't come to much.

He was as shocked by his own actions as he was by the Headmaster's. Sebastian's coaching had allowed him a modicum of confidence, but not one of them had predicted that the man might go so far as to threaten expulsion. Idle or not, the threat worried him greatly: if Dumbledore was willing to go so far with his threats, what else was he willing to do?

Had they underestimated him?

Looking back, however, he could not see any other way he could have responded without giving in and revealing something. Planned or not, it was the right course of action near as he could tell, and now he had to deal with the consequences. It wasn't likely that the Headmaster would go through with it – they could ruin him if he did – but he still couldn't take the chance.

That meant he needed a contingency plan, and he berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. A transfer to Beauxbatons would have quite a few advantages, not least of which was the constant presence of his wife. When added to the fact that it would remove him from Dumbledore's control, he was surprised that none of them thought to consider it.

There was, of course, the language barrier to deal with, but that could be overcome with time.

But now he had to move quickly, and that meant he needed to get himself under control. It was much easier to hold his emotions at bay when faced with an active confrontation than it was to do so after the fact. He was almost certain that the encounter would add a new nightmare to his rather large collection; confronting Albus Dumbledore in any way was a terrifying prospect at best.

Closing his eyes, he did his best to focus on a single thought: an image of Fleur's beautiful face. He focused on it as best he could, but it failed to block out the rising tide of fear over his future. Perhaps it wasn't the best choice of image, given that his newest and most powerful fear was that his wife might be taken from him.

Just as he started getting frustrated with his inability to calm himself, however, a soft, soothing trill sounded, bringing him abruptly back to the present.

Harry opened his eyes, only to have them fall on Fawkes, and he immediately paled. He was so distracted when he left the office that he didn't even think to return the phoenix to its perch. While he was aware that humans couldn't command such creatures, he somehow doubted that Dumbledore would see it that way.

As though aware of his thoughts, Fawkes trilled soothingly once more, and then broke into full, quiet song. Harry's heart swelled at the amazing sound, and it assuaged his frayed nerves in that way that only the music of a phoenix could manage. It went on for several minutes, and he was much calmer and more collected when the creature finally fell silent again.

"Thanks, Fawkes," he whispered, reaching up to caress the bird's beautiful head.

Fawkes chirped happily at him and affectionately nuzzled his cheek.

Harry absently scratched the back of his friend's neck as he contemplated the situation. Going back to the Headmaster's office was the last thing he wanted to do, but he really hadn't the right to take the phoenix from his chosen domain. Then again, Fawkes could leave at any time, he supposed.

"Sorry about that," he said eventually, drawing the bird's curious gaze. "Guess I should've asked if you wanted to come with me?"

Fawkes ruffled his feathers as though to shrug it off, and then promptly flipped his head over and butted it up against Harry's hand. He couldn't help but smile at the creature's antics; it was certainly a pleasant distraction. Unfortunately, though, he had things to do, and he'd already wasted considerable time.

"I have to talk to Madam Maxime," he sighed as he tickled Fawkes beneath his chin. "You can come with me if you want, though. I like having you around."

Fawkes paused to look into his eyes again, and Harry had the distinct sense that he was being examined from the inside out. His feelings were still too chaotic at the moment to detect a foreign presence like he had earlier, but he suspected it was there nevertheless. The idea that phoenixes used a subtle form of Legilimency was a common myth, and after today, Harry believed it to be true.

Their staring match lasted only briefly from an outside perspective, and then Fawkes broke away and chirped brightly at him. Harry watched with a bemused smile as the bird proceeded to climb cautiously up his arm to take up a position on his shoulder. He couldn't help but lean his cheek against the creature's warm feathers; it was remarkably comforting.

"Right, then," he sighed, finally pushing off the wall and setting course for the Beauxbatons accommodations. "I really hope you're not offended by all this, Fawkes," he offered quietly, "but I honestly don't know why you stay with him. I never thought I'd see the day I would threaten to leave Hogwarts."

Fawkes trilled sadly, but Harry detected a note of question there, and shrugged noncommittally. "I'll tell you about it later," he offered, hoping he was interpreting the sound correctly. "It's a really long story."

The phoenix bumped his head against Harry's cheek and then settled down, leaning into him slightly and falling silent. For his part, Harry turned his attention to his next task, and once again did his best to go through his mental exercises. Fawkes had a remarkable ability to keep him calm, but he couldn't afford to slip on the off chance that Maxime was just as bad as Dumbledore.

He knew nothing about her beyond what Fleur told him, and her comments were noncommittal at best. The woman had more or less tricked her into the Tournament – not unlike Dumbledore, albeit Fleur actually had a choice – and it gave him pause. That said, it was the only negative thing she had to say about her, so she might not be so bad.

He knocked on the carriage door when they arrived, and it was opened by an older boy whose eyes widened when he caught sight of Fawkes. For once, Harry's fame was not the first thing on someone's mind.

"Is the Headmistress available?" he asked politely. "I need to speak with her."

The boy's eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged and gestured for Harry to enter. His demeanor was not terribly friendly, but that wasn't surprising. The one thing he would probably dislike if he actually had to go through with it was that the Beauxbatons students liked him about as much as they liked Fleur, and maybe less. It was a sobering thought.

Maxime's office was at the very end of a long hall, and the door opened to reveal the woman herself sitting behind an enormous oak desk. Even given the size of it, however, she still dwarfed it; he thought she might be a bit bigger even than Hagrid, which was saying something. Used to Hagrid's bulk, however, Harry didn't find it all that intimidating.

She looked up and went wide-eyed when she caught sight of him.

"Monsieur Potter?" she queried. "What can I do for you?"

Harry glanced briefly at the boy who was still standing beside him, unabashedly eavesdropping. "Could we talk privately, ma'am?" he requested politely. "I have something I need to discuss with you."

Her gaze turned speculative, and she nodded at him before turning to his guide. "Zat will be all, Olivier," she told him sternly. Then she turned back to Harry and added, "Please come in and close ze door."

The boy – now looking rather disgruntled – turned and headed back the way he came, and Harry followed Maxime's instructions. The office was sparsely furnished, but he supposed it wasn't that surprising since it was only a temporary accommodation. It was tasteful in any event, and not nearly as cluttered as Dumbledore's was.

He was aware of the woman's scrutiny falling on Fawkes as he surveyed his surroundings, but decided to ignore it. His nerves were kicking up again: he needed to handle this conversation carefully. A lot was riding on it.

"Please, 'ave a seat," she offered finally. Harry did so, and she studied him curiously for a moment before asking, "What is zis about?"

Harry took the opportunity study her in return. She seemed friendly enough, and was definitely curious as to what he had to say. He harbored no illusions that she would be completely altruistic, however; while he wasn't big on his fame, he was aware that he was something of a prize to most people.

Her brow furrowed in concern at his continued silence, and finally he spoke up. "I mean no disrespect, ma'am," he said slowly, "but will you give me your word that this will stay between us? It's a bit sensitive."

One bushy eyebrow went up, but it didn't take her long to decide. "Oui," she agreed. "I zink zat is reasonable. You 'ave my word, Monsieur Potter."

Harry smiled faintly. "Thank you," he said simply.

Shifting in his seat, Harry took a moment more to order his thoughts. She would doubtless be curious as to why he wanted this, and while he could easily use Fleur as an excuse, he didn't think it was a wise idea. She needed to be aware that she might have to fight Dumbledore for it, otherwise it could catch her off guard and ruin everything if it came to that.

Apparently sensing the gravity of his mood, she waited patiently for him to speak.

Finally, having decided on a course of action, he sighed and met her gaze directly. "The Headmaster just threatened to expel me," he told her bluntly, causing a look of shock to roll over her features. "If you have a pensieve, it would probably be best if I just show you the conversation. It'll explain quite a bit. I'm hoping it's a bluff, but if it isn't, then with your permission I'd like to apply at Beauxbatons."

Stunned by his statement, Maxime stared at him for a long moment, clearly at a loss for words. Harry couldn't blame her; absent what he now knew about Albus Dumbledore, he would probably feel the same way. The man's true nature was extremely well hidden most of the time.

"I will need to retrieve one," she said after a moment. "If you will wait 'ere?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Still reeling, Maxime stood and moved to the fireplace, threw a pinch of powder in, and disappeared into the flames. It was a promising start – she was at least willing to listen – but Harry was still apprehensive. What would she think of his handling of the Headmaster?

Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he offered his arm to Fawkes, and the phoenix happily accepted. For the next ten minutes he showered the bird with attention; it was very relaxing, and kept him calm. That Fawkes so obviously enjoyed it was just a bonus.

"I meant to thank you earlier," he mused quietly after a while. "You really helped me in Dumbledore's office."

Fawkes disengaged from his human scratching post for a moment, looked up at him, chirped happily, and promptly went back to enjoying himself. Harry chuckled quietly; Hedwig didn't allow him to do this sort of thing – she was a rather vain owl – and he was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. It almost made him want another pet, but no mere pet could come close to Fawkes.

Maxime returned after nearly twenty minutes, much of which was probably travel time based on Harry's few experiences with international Floo connections. She was carrying a round bowl with markings that were very similar to the ones on Sebastian's rectangular one. Harry was quite curious about these devices; they appeared to be somewhat rare, but common for people in powerful positions.

She set it gingerly on the desk and retook her seat. "Zis should do, non?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. Drawing his wand, he added, "May I?"

The Headmistress just motioned for him to get on with it, which he did. He drew the memory beginning in the Great Hall with Dumbledore's arrival; that would show her that she hadn't missed anything. After dropping it in the bowl, however, he paused for a moment.

"Erm, mind if I sit this out?" he asked tentatively. "I was really angry when I left, and I'd rather not see it again right now."

Maxime studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I will return shortly," she finally said.

She then stuck her finger into the bowl, and her body stilled as she viewed the memory. Patience wasn't a problem for Harry – spending days at a time in a dark cupboard made this look trivial by comparison – but nerves, on the other hand, were. It was only Fawkes' continued attention that allowed him to get through it without getting up and pacing.

And when the Headmistress finally came back to herself, Harry cringed away from the anger emblazoned on her features.

He watched her warily as she closed her eyes and reigned herself in, and it was a nerve-wracking experience for him. Sure, she was probably angry with Dumbledore – he'd very clearly crossed a line – but it was also possible that she was angry with him. His past would not allow him to discount that possibility so easily.

Fawkes' head swiveled back and forth between them a few times, and then he let out a single, liquid note that calmed them both considerably.

"I see your predicament, Monsieur Potter," she scowled after a moment. "Zere was no excuse for such punishment!"

Harry winced and nodded his agreement. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly. "He's always had an interest in me, and I can only guess at why. I don't think he likes being in the dark."

Her enormous head turned away from him, and she stared off into the distance for a long moment. For his part, Harry internally sighed in relief. At least her anger was directed where he wanted it.

"You are fourth form?" she asked distractedly.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "I'm not sure how that compares with what you teach, though, and our Defense instruction hasn't been very good."

Maxime looked back at him and frowned. "'ow so?" she wondered.

Harry couldn't help his snort. "Our first-year professor was possessed by Voldemort," he deadpanned. "Second year was Gilderoy Lockhart, and he was just useless. It's only the last two years we've had decent professors, and Moody's okay, but I don't think he's teaching what we're supposed to learn this year."

Maxime's eyes widened when he mentioned the Dark Lord by name, but she showed no other sign of concern. She slowly nodded as she digested it, and Harry crossed his fingers under the desk. As he waited for her to continue, though, he pondered the thought of hiring a Defense tutor: Merlin only knew how useful it would be given the trouble he so often found himself in.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, the woman reached into a drawer and drew out a piece of parchment. Snatching up a quill from her desk, she read down it, writing things in as she went. Harry could only deduce that it was some kind of form.

When she put the quill down, she finally focused in on him, her expression serious. "You understand zat we do not teach classes in Eenglish?" she warned.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "I don't know a lot of French right now, but I'm learning. I figure if I have to take classes in it I'll pick it up right quick."

For the first time, he saw a glimmer of amusement on the woman's face. "Your wife is teaching you?" she asked with a knowing smile.

But Harry just chuckled and shook his head at her. "She thinks I'm learning terms of endearment," he confided with a wry smile. "My friend Hermione is almost fluent though, and I figure I'll pick the rest up from my family."

Maxime let out a laugh at this. "Fleur will be pleased," she smiled, and then she sobered again and slid the parchment over to him. "I am more zan willing to offer you a position in Beauxbatons," she informed him. "Zis is your acceptance letter. If Albus is truly so foolish as to expel you, zen you must only come. I will arrange ze exams at zat time."

"Thank you, ma'am," he breathed. "I really appreciate this."

"You are married to one of my favorite students, Monsieur Potter," she smiled. "I could do no less. Will Fleur be joining you in ze castle until zen?"

Harry blushed when he understood what she was asking. "We haven't talked about it yet," he frowned. "I don't think Dumbledore would allow it, though."

"Zen you will stay 'ere in her suite," she declared. "It is only proper, and zere is plenty of room."

"Thank you again, ma'am," he said with honest appreciation. "Fleur will be thrilled I think."

The woman smiled at him, and then she finally got around to asking him about Fawkes. That led to a viewing of the Chamber of Secrets incident – like everyone else who saw it, Maxime was appalled that it happened in a school – and from there they went into a number of other aspects of Harry's life at Hogwarts. The conversation lasted for another hour, and was actually quite enjoyable.

By the time Harry left her office, he was much less concerned about the future. He had options now, and Dumbledore had little to no control over him. Part of him was tempted to take her up on the transfer right away, but he resisted the impulse; he at least needed to learn the language first, and he really did like Hogwarts as a whole.

But if push came to shove, he had a fallback plan, and he would sleep a lot better for it.