34 - Transference

In the years that followed, Fleur would only ever be able to recall vague impressions of the remainder of that fateful meeting. All of her attention had suddenly been focused on Harry. His anger was palpable after the mention of the Dursleys.

An explosion from his direction was not going to help their case any, and he thankfully knew that, so he allowed her efforts to keep him calm.

The long and short of it was that they had Dumbledore over a barrel on the guardianship, and he had clearly overstepped the bounds of every position he held. If he tried it again they would throw the book at him. They could dream up a whole host of charges for him to answer to, and with Amelia Bones herself doing the charging, he would certainly be forced to defend himself.

It was a bluff, of course.

As far as Dumbledore knew, they had nothing on him that would stick in any meaningful way, and he was mostly correct. Oh, he was clearly a criminal, but the fact that he had more than half the magical world in his political pocket was well known. He would never be convicted of anything even the slightest bit subjective, and at worst it would be a nuisance for him to deflect it all.

They didn't bother enlightening him on their knowledge of his theft from the Potter estate. That, he would not be able to sweep under the rug so easily. Anything else he faced was just gravy; they had to weaken his reputation before they could take him down if they wanted to ensure he couldn't slip out of it somehow.

Of course if he continued to tarnish his own reputation like he had with Snape's trial, it would be all that much easier.

The end result of the meeting was a strong demand that he steer clear of Harry and Fleur, and it was backed with some fairly sharp teeth. Fleur did not expect to have any trouble from the old man's direction for a while. He was extremely angry over losing Harry Potter to a visiting school, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Not without opening a massive can of worms, anyway. Amelia Bones was nobody's fool.

Harry and Fleur left that meeting feeling an unexpected measure of freedom and safety from the meddling old goat.

The following morning they sat down at their usual place at the Gryffindor table for breakfast as though nothing had changed. Dumbledore was blessedly absent; of the staff that Fleur was acquainted with, only McGonagall was present. Neville was already there and nodded a silent good morning to them, and Hermione wandered in a few minutes later.

She quickly took the seat next to Neville, across from Fleur. The first thing out of her mouth post-greeting was no surprise given her inquisitive nature.

"So what happened with the Headmaster?" she asked innocently.

Harry closed his eyes and let out a pained groan. Fleur reached over and put a gentle hand on the back of his neck, but couldn't help her amused chuckle. She knew he wasn't upset by the question – but also that he wasn't looking forward to answering it. He was afraid of Hermione's reaction.

Fleur decided to spare him the trouble.

"'Arry is transferring to Beauxbatons, 'ermione," she said with utmost seriousness. "Ze 'eadmaster ees too controlling, and we will not tolerate eet any longer."

It was probably fortunate that so few were in the Hall at this time of morning, or that statement would likely have started a riot right then and there. As it stood, the few students within hearing range of their conversation immediately went silent – and then the murmurs started as they passed the new rumor on to their friends.

Fleur rolled her eyes in exasperation. Hogwarts truly was no different than Beauxbatons in that respect. The rumor mill tended to work overtime, and the transfer would likely be a known fact throughout the castle before the hour was even up.

Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing, and opened her mouth to speak – but then she stopped and seemed to think better of whatever she had been about to say. Instead she just stared at him.

"I had to, Hermione," he quietly defended himself. "He keeps threatening to expel me, but we know he won't go through with it. What will he do when he realizes the threat doesn't work?"

Hermione blinked and then shook herself. "I'm not upset, Harry," she assured him. "I'm just surprised is all. I thought you might transfer at the end of the year, but I didn't expect it mid-term."

"Ze 'eadmaster left us wiz no choice," shrugged Fleur. "We will seemply 'ave to deal wiz eet."

Hermione nodded. "When do you start?" she wondered.

"I have to take placement exams in a couple of days," Harry told her. "Not sure yet what happens after that."

Fleur's attention was caught by Neville, then. His expression had been a shocked one, but it morphed into one of deep thought. She was again visited with the suspicion that Neville was truly underestimated as a friend.

"I'd better let Gran know," he finally frowned. "If you don't get ahead of this, it's going to turn the whole country against you."

"She might already know," Harry told him. "Madam Bones was in the meeting."

Neville nodded. "Then she probably does, but I'll tell her anyway. If the Prophet gets hold of this before you can get your side of the story out…"

Harry stared thoughtfully back at Neville, as though seeing him for the first time. From what he'd told her of the boy, Fleur could understand: he was supposed to be the quiet and unassuming one. Clearly, however, he had actually been properly trained to head his family when the time came, and was finally starting to show it.

Hermione, for her part, was giving Neville a speculative look that sent a wave of amusement through Fleur. The girl wasn't smitten, but she was definitely taking a renewed interest.

Fleur added the next piece of the puzzle. "Papa will already 'ave dealt wiz zis," she informed them. "'E 'as been working wiz Madam Bones, and zey will be aware of ze issues." Frowning a little she added, "but you should steel tell your Gran. Eet is only right that she 'ear it from you as soon as possible."

Neville blinked and nodded, and breakfast continued.

Not much more was discussed on the topic of the transfer apart from a few veiled jokes from the twins when they arrived; they had already heard it from the overly-efficient rumor mill. It wasn't until the end of breakfast that anything else occurred, and that was when Professor McGonagall caught up with them. They were just rising to leave the Hall.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she greeted. "May I have a moment of your time, please?"

Fleur blinked at her formality and deference. She liked the woman and had never had any issues with her, but Minerva McGonagall always came across as stern and in charge. This was a slightly different persona; she had clearly been told that Harry was no longer her student.

"Of course, Professor," frowned Harry, clearly having sensed the same difference.

McGonagall beckoned, and they followed her to what Fleur could only assume was her personal office. Hermione and Neville split off halfway there, saying they would meet them for lunch. Soon they were seated, and after serving tea, McGonagall sat pensively for a brief time before she finally spoke.

Fleur and Harry both gave her that time; it was clear that the woman had something weighty on her mind.

"Firstly, Mr. Potter," she finally said, looking him in the eye, "I owe you an apology. I truly am sorry for how you've been treated at Hogwarts." With a slight frown she added, "And beyond Hogwarts, for what part I played in that."

Harry's expression darkened slightly at the reference, but he didn't seem to be jumping to conclusions. Fleur had no idea what the woman was talking about, and decided to rectify that.

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. "I did not know you 'ad any responsibility for 'im outside of ze school."

Harry's ears perked up, and McGonagall smiled sadly. "I didn't, really," she explained, "but I was present when he was left with those people. I advised Albus against it, but…"

She shrugged and trailed off, her gaze going distant. It was clear to Fleur that she truly did care, and felt at least partly responsible for the leaving him with those abusers. Fleur suspected that her presence mattered not, however, and Harry was apparently feeling the same way.

"It wouldn't have mattered," he said quietly. "Dumbledore wanted me there. We all know that Dumbledore generally gets what he wants."

"And that is the only thing that lets me sleep at night," admitted McGonagall flatly.

"Ze past is ze past," mused Fleur. "Unlike someone I could mention, you are not malicious. I do not think we need 'old you responsible for what zat bâtard 'as done."

"I agree," said Harry quietly, finally looking up to catch the older woman's eye. "But thank you."

McGonagall smiled, and Fleur could detect a hint of relief about her; Harry's opinion apparently mattered to the woman. She finally nodded and stood, moving over to stare out the window for a moment. It had to be magical, as the office was nowhere near the outer walls of the castle, but the view through that window showed the Quidditch pitch.

"It is truly a great loss to Hogwarts to see you go," she finally sighed, taking a moment to rub her eyes. And then she turned to look at him again. "But I do think you're making the right decision. I want you to know that I will help you however I can, especially while you're still here in the castle."

Shifting a little she added, "You may not be a Hogwarts student any longer, but I will always think of you as my student."

Fleur smiled. She knew Harry well enough by now to see that the sentiment had touched him deeply. It had become all too apparent that very few adults had ever supported him in any meaningful way in the past.

McGonagall was, like so many adults, guilty of that, but it would seem that she at least was making an effort to change.

"Thank you, Professor," he replied.

"I don't know what you have planned for classes," she told him, "Your wife can correct me if I'm wrong here, but I believe the Beauxbatons students are mostly engaged in self study?"

"Oui," nodded Fleur. "Ze teachers are available at times to answer questions, but zat is all. We are responsible for our own studies."

"That being the case," said McGonagall, "please don't hesitate to attend any of my classes you wish to. And Professors Flitwick and Sprout have also asked me to extend the same offer on their behalf."

Harry was clearly deep in thought. Fleur reached over and gently brushed his hair off his forehead, the gesture drawing a faint smile out of McGonagall. "Eet would be a good idea, mon amour," she told him. "You would be able to keep up more easily zat way."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor," he offered. "I'll probably take you up on that. And please tell the others the same from me."

===[~]===

Harry could scarcely believe that he was actually going through with it, but as he sat down to wait in a chair outside Maxime's office, it finally began to set in that he was really changing schools. He truly was no longer a Hogwarts student. He wouldn't even be returning to the castle the following year.

Oddly, that fact didn't bother him all that much.

He had been surprised by Hermione's muted response to the transfer – he honestly expected her to explode – but it was suddenly explained when the door opened to admit her, and she walked over to sit in the chair next to him.

"Hermione?" he queried, blinking in surprise.

"What, you didn't think I'd let you do this without me, did you?" she grinned. "Besides, it's not like I want to be stuck alone in the same classes with Ronald bloody Weasley."

Harry blinked again. "You're transferring?" he asked for confirmation.

"I checked with my parents when you made your contingency plans," she confirmed. "They said it was fine, so I had them send me a permission slip just in case. Professor McGonagall is a little upset, but she understands."

Harry shook his head to clear it. "I'm not sure what to say," he frowned. "You didn't have to do that just for me, Hermione."

"Don't be silly, Harry," she said dismissively. "Yes, it's partly for you, but really? I think you have the right idea. From what I've seen Beauxbatons might actually be a significantly better school anyway."

"I am most pleased zat you think so, Mademoiselle Granger," came Maxime's amused voice from the doorway.

Caught off-guard, they both jumped to their feet to greet her. They hadn't missed the way most of the Beauxbatons students acted around their Headmistress, and neither Harry nor Hermione was an idiot. They could do the math on what was expected of them.

Harry figured Hermione had no worries, but he himself had to fight down a wave of nerves. Had Hogwarts prepared him well enough for the placement exams he was about to take, in a language he was still just learning?

He really didn't know.

===[~]===

The tests took nearly six hours, and both Harry and Hermione were completely wrung out by the time it was over. Harry's most significant complaint — and one that he admitted was totally expected — was that the language barrier was still quite significant. Hermione, of course, had no issue as she was already fluent in French.

Now they were trying to relax in one of the many study areas in the carriage while awaiting the results. Fleur was the one who couldn't stop fidgeting, however, and was surprised to realize that she was more nervous even than Harry was — though that might have been because he was simply too exhausted to worry about it any longer.

She truly was stunned that he'd chosen this route. While she knew of the contingency of course, it was a shock to see him so readily make use of it. Fleur had assumed at the time that it was just a bluff – a fallback measure that would never actually be used.

While she was shocked, however, she was also eminently pleased.

The more time she spent with her newly-minted husband, the more she felt that they were truly a match made in Heaven. It made the idea of being separated from him next year a difficult one to bear. Now, though, they would at least be in the same country.

She would have graduated by then, but they'd work something out; unlike Hogwarts, Beauxbatons had day students, and that might work best for them in the end. Then she could see him every day.

It was strange how things had ended up, she thought. Oh, they still had a lot to learn about each other, but they had also learned a great deal already. She had no idea what the future would bring, but she expected that — once Dumbledore was finally dealt with — it would be a very bright future indeed.

She didn't get much further along in that train of thought, though, before it was derailed by the arrival of Madam Maxime. The three of them quickly stood, and while Harry and Hermione were clearly nervous, Fleur thought that the smile the Headmistress was wearing probably boded well for them.

"Please, sit," Maxime offered in her native French. She was speaking sightly slower than normal, but was clearly determined to have them use the language as much as possible.

Fleur smirked to herself at the attentive expression on Hermione's face. Harry had told her of the girl's obsession with schoolwork, and it was on clear display here. Not that Fleur couldn't relate…

"Mademoiselle Granger, do you wish to hear your results privately?" she asked after a moment.

"No, ma'am," replied Hermione with a shake of her head. "I have nothing to hide from these two."

Maxime smiled. "Excellent," she replied. "And you, Monsieur Potter?"

Harry just chuckled. "She's known my marks since day one, ma'am," he replied in halting french, only substituting a word here and there with its English equivalent if he didn't know the appropriate French one yet. "I'll ask her to help me catch up anyway, so she may as well know."

The Headmistress nodded. "Very good," she agreed. "Simply put, you both did quite well, excepting the areas that you already indicated would be problematic. Potions, History, and Defense to be specific, though Monsieur Potter does show some promise in the latter."

Harry and Hermione nodded; this was no surprise to them. Fleur had heard all about the lackluster teaching in History and Defense, and had personally charbroiled the former Potions professor, so she wasn't at all surprised either.

"Your Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology scores are excellent, so there is no issue there. We do not offer divination to those who are not certified as having the Sight, so that you will not have Monsieur Potter. Magical Creatures you are both acceptable in.

"I would like to see you add Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, Monsieur Potter," she noted after a moment. "You are not too far behind at this point that you cannot catch up with some work, and it would round out your education very nicely, making it much easier to find a career."

Harry frowned at this, and Fleur gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She was excellent in both subjects, and figured that between her and Hermione they could have him up to snuff by the beginning of next year easily.

He looked up at her, and she smiled back. "I think it's a good idea, 'Arry," she said. "I will help you study, of course."

Harry searched her eyes for a moment, and then slowly nodded before turning back to Maxime. "Okay, I guess," he replied.

"I'll help too," smiled Hermione happily. "I always thought you should've taken those to begin with anyway."

Harry just rolled his eyes — it was apparently an old argument between them.

"You will need a small amount of work there yourself Mademoiselle," warned Maxime, to Hermione's obvious surprise. "You are not too far behind, but your teachers are clearly not teaching up to standard in either subject."

Hermione's jaw flapped for a moment before she pulled herself back together. "I'll make sure we catch up," she said determinedly. It was clear she was slightly embarrassed, but obviously they wouldn't tease her about it.

"Overall, you both did very well, especially considering the standards at 'ogwarts," she assessed. "I do not know if you are aware, but is no secret that educational standards have declined at your former school over the course of the last half century."

Harry and Hermione exchanged dark looks. Fleur was sure she'd get an earful later, from Hermione at a minimum. She doubted that they had been made aware of what truly was common knowledge outside of Britain: the educational standards here were in the toilet. Some employers were even starting to require British candidates to sit the international version of the NEWTs before they would consider them.

"I'm going to place you in fourth form with your peers," said Maxime when they recovered from that bombshell, "but you will need to study especially hard in the problem areas to catch up, or your grades will suffer."

"We will," promised Hermione. "I'll make sure."

"She will, too," agreed Harry, rolling his eyes again. Hermione slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but was smiling.

From there it was a discussion about how things would work at Beauxbatons, and how they would be different from life at Hogwarts. Really, there wasn't too much in the latter category — a school was a school for the most part — and most of the differences were specific to their tournament circumstances.

Fleur paid little attention, though; she was too busy enjoying the relief she felt knowing that her husband was out from under the old man's thumb, and that he had made it into his appropriate year group.

===[~]===

Harry and Hermione adapted very quickly to life at Beauxbatons over the course of the following week. It wasn't actually that hard to do, as there were no actual classes. Their year group wasn't even present at the Tournament, and even if it had been, they would have been unable to strip the teachers from the school proper.

The result was a great deal of self-study. Maxime and a couple of others were available if students had questions, but largely they were learning from the books at their own pace, and then taking tests every couple of weeks to ensure that they were learning the right things.

In the long run, Harry would be shocked to discover just how well this form of learning suited him.

Simply reading the Beauxbatons Potions book was eye-opening. Once he started to truly overcome the language barrier, the information contained within made the subject actually make sense for a change. Had Snape explained things as well as that book did — or at all for that matter — Harry would have been much better off in that class.

He also found Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to be fairly easy. He was simply a natural at Runes, and Arithmancy at their level was little different to Muggle mathematics, which he'd already had years of prior to Hogwarts. It would get harder and more magical in later years, but they just weren't there yet.

Toward the end of that first week, Hermione worked out a revision schedule that would have them caught up with their peers within the next couple of months. What was shocking about it was that she hadn't packed every last available moment — apparently she'd learned something about having fun in preceding years.

Or maybe she just wanted some alone time with Neville; who knew?

Either way, it was reasonable, and made Harry feel much more confident in his decision to transfer. As necessary as he had felt it at the time, it had also struck him as quite rash. Now, at least, it looked like he wouldn't suffer for it.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

"You are thinking too hard," came his wife's soft voice from next to him; they had taken up speaking French in private to help him learn. He felt her scoot in closer, and closed his eyes in pleasure when she started carding her fingers through his hair.

"Sorry," he said softly. "It's just been a long week with the transfer and all."

"Do you regret it?" she asked curiously.

"Never," he replied immediately.

Harry didn't bother to struggle when Fleur tugged him over onto his back. His pulse quickened as she climbed atop him and started into his eyes from mere inches away.

"Good," she said decisively.

Harry smiled at his wife, and moments later they were lost in a kiss that would quickly lead to things that Harry could never even have imagined before all this started.

Perhaps the Tournament was a good thing after all.