Harry Potter and all characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Harry McGonagall - Chapter 33 - Welcome to France
A/N: I have absolutely no knowledge of the French language, and as such, I am not going to attempt to use it in this story, because I would butcher it terribly. I will be making an attempt at incorporating some French culture into the story, though. I have done some research and will hopefully be able to acceptably accomplish that. If I get something terribly wrong, I apologize in advance.
"What do you mean I've got to compete?" Harry replied as his eyes bulged out. He was staring at the small mirror he was holding in disbelief as he quickly made his way to a private corner of Ravenclaw tower. "How can you have a fourth champion in a Triwizard tournament? How could I have even entered?"
Aunt Minnie's face only looked paler as she explained. "I'm afraid we don't know how it happened, Harry. The first three champions were selected normally. Cedric Diggory is Hogwarts' champion, by the way. The Goblet of Fire, which I told you and Brianna about, produced a fourth name before the flame died down - yours."
Harry's heart started to beat a bit faster as he contemplated the meaning of that. "Which name?" he whispered.
"Harry McGonagall."
The Boy-Who-Lived sighed in relief. "At least whoever did that doesn't know…" He didn't need to finish that statement. "But how am I bound to compete? Isn't there some sort of…"
"It is your handwriting, Harry. I'd recognize it anywhere, and that is your legal signature."
"Where did they get my signature!?" he yelled.
"We don't know, but it is genuine. I'm sorry, Harry."
"What if I tell them to stuff it?!" he lashed out. "Tell them I don't want to be part of that bloody tournament! What are they gonna do, arrest me?"
Minerva solemnly shook her head. "No, they can't arrest you, b…"
"Then that's what I'll do!" Harry declared.
"Don't interrupt, Harry," his aunt admonished. "You are bound by magic itself."
"What are you saying, Aunt Minnie?"
"If you do not participate, the magic of the Goblet of Fire will exact a penalty from you."
"What sort of penalty?"
"We don't know exactly. It could turn you into a muggle. It might even kill you. The point is that it will be severe."
"Is there anything you do know exactly?"
Aunt Minnie took a deep breath. She was getting annoyed at her nephew's rudeness, but she did understand the situation and was cutting him some slack. "We know that you have to compete, and that a representative of the Ministry of Magic will be at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon to give you a portkey. You're excused from Hogwarts classes, of course, so you can pack. You'll be spending the rest of your fourth year here at Beauxbatons. I also have to tell you that the first task will be on November 24th and you're supposed to face it without having a clue what you're facing."
Harry's breathing was getting heavy. "Terrific." He then looked thoughtful for a moment. "What about Hermione?"
"I'm afraid that she won't be able to join you for the most part, although she might be able to attend actual Tournament events."
Running his hands through his dirty-blond hair, he replied, "I guess I'd better go talk to her."
"Yes. You should tell your sister as well. I'll be explaining the situation to Professor Flitwick."
"You're the one telling mom and dad about this."
A look of dread came over Minerva's face, even worse than before. She took a deep breath. "I suppose I shall. I'd imagine your mum will be quite displeased."
At this, Harry actually chuckled. "Now that's an understatement if I ever heard one. She'll be p…"
"Harry, language!"
"Ticked off." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'll let you go. Bye. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye."
After turning off his mirror, Harry went in search of his girlfriend, whom he found lying on a couch with a book floating above her, reading. "Hey, Hermione," he said nervously, "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure," she said, grabbing the book out of the air and placing a book mark in it while sitting up. As she turned to look at him, she began asking, "Okay, Harry, what do you…what's wrong?"
"I just got a call from Aunt Minnie."
Her eyes went wide and her face took on an expression of concern. "Is she alright? Did something happen to her?"
"She's fine…it's just…" He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. "I have to compete as a fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament."
"WHAT?!?" After Harry explained to her what his aunt had told him, she yelled, "That is so unfair! It's ridiculous! There's got to be a way out of it!" Without another word, she got up and headed toward the door.
Harry knew his girlfriend well enough to know exactly where she was headed, so he called out, "The library's closed," causing her to freeze in her tracks.
"Oh, yes. Of course it is," she replied, turning around. He noticed that her ears were quite pink as she continued, "I forgot what time it is. Tomorrow, we'll look…"
"Tomorrow they're taking me to Beauxbatons, no matter what we find in the library."
"But…"
He put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and faced her. "The person coming with a portkey is a Ministry official whose job is to get me to France. He or she isn't coming to look at evidence - that's for the judges to look at. I'm going to have to cooperate." He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you'll find something in a few days to give those judges and I'll be able to return. Maybe not. The point is that I'll be leaving and we don't know when we'll see each other again." A sly smile made its way onto his face. "I think we should enjoy the little time we have left."
"What do you…oh," she replied as he moved his face closer to hers and kissed her.
--HM--
The next morning at breakfast, Harry walked into the Great Hall between Hermione and Padma (who'd been informed of the situation) and immediately focused his attention on the Gryffindor table, where he saw his little sister sitting in between her two redheaded best friends - Lily Spindler and Ginny Weasley. He walked straight up to her.
"Hi, Harry," said Lily with a small blush. She'd always seemed to have a crush on him.
"Hi Lily, Ginny." He turned to his sister. "Brianna, can we talk for a minute? It's kind of important."
"I suppose," she replied and got up, "but only for a minute. I want to finish breakfast."
After they left the Great Hall and went into an empty room, Harry began, "Aunt Minnie called last night and said my name came out of the Goblet of Fire."
His sister's eyes went wide for a moment before she replied, "Is that your idea of a joke?"
"No, Brianna. Someone put my signature into the goblet and got it to come out as a fourth champion. Somebody from the Ministry will be arriving this afternoon to give me a portkey."
She looked concerned. "You…you're leaving?"
He nodded. "Yes. It looks like I won't set foot in Hogwarts until next September. I'm excused from classes today so I can get packed."
Uncharacteristically, Brianna threw her arms around her brother. "Be careful. I know the tournament's supposed to be dangerous."
He patted her back for a few moments before pulling away from his sister, putting on the best poker-face he could manage. "I'll be fine. You take care of yourself. I won't be around to stop idiots like Malfoy from attacking you."
"I'll be careful," said Brianna, "but I'm not scared of that arrogant little boy."
He sighed. "We'd better get back to the Great Hall."
The siblings rejoined their respective friends, and the meal went by in relative peace, until at the very end, Professor Flitwick made the announcement that Cedric was one Hogwarts champion and Harry had somehow been entered into the tournament and would have to compete, which brought about a lot of chattering.
"At least no one thinks I entered my name," Harry commented to his friends. "Imagine if the Triwizard had been held here."
"Everyone would think you snuck in during the night and put your name in," said Hermione.
"It's a good thing you have such an unbreakable alibi," added Padma.
"Yep," replied Harry in his full American accent. He had been slowly developing a British accent that he tended to use at Hogwarts, but when he was worried, his speech reverted to its origins. "I'd better go pack. I'll see you later."
Before he stood up, Hermione asked, "Do you speak French?"
Harry's eyes went wide. "No. I hadn't thought of that. That's just perfect! I won't even be able to understand their healers when they're treating me after each task. They'll say, `There's nothing I can do,' and I'll think they're telling me I'll be fine."
"Don't talk like that!" Hermione practically yelled. "You will be fine! I'm just concerned about how you'll communicate with all the new friends you'll meet." For a moment, her face developed a frown, but then went back to a neutral expression. Harry figured he knew what she was worried about.
"I'll call you every day, just like during the summer."
The meal ended shortly and Harry separated from his friends; they went to classes while he returned to Ravenclaw Tower, where he spent the morning packing. When he finished with his room, he also went to C.A.R.E. Headquarters to collect his Game Boy and CD's. He figured he'd leave the boom box for the club and buy his own if he could use it. By the time he was finished, his watch told him that lunch was about to begin. In silence, he made his way into the Great Hall.
--HM--
Harry entered the Great Hall to see his girlfriend standing at the Head Table talking to Professor Flitwick. Figuring she had a question about the latest Charms assignment or something, he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the Ravenclaw table, sitting across from Padma.
"So," she began, "are you all packed?"
"Yeah. I even packed my music. I left the cd player there for you, though."
"Thanks. I would really miss the music at Headquarters."
"I figure that if electricity works there, I can guilt-trip Aunt Minnie into buying me a new one."
Padma started laughing just as Hermione arrived. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," replied Harry instantly, knowing that Hermione wouldn't approve of his using this situation to get his aunt to buy him new stuff.
"I asked Professor Flitwick, and he allowed me to miss classes the rest of the day," she announced to them.
"Really?" asked Harry, actually touched that she'd miss class to spend time with him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. There's actually something I want to talk to you alone about at Headquarters. You are all packed, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good. We should have time before you go. Professor Flitwick said the Ministry official shouldn't arrive until three."
"Time for what?" asked Padma. Then, a concerned expression came over her face. "Hermione, you're not gonna…"
"No," she replied, with her ears turning pink. "But this is a personal matter between Harry and me. Sorry."
Sighing, Padma replied, "Alright, you two can have your goodbye." She turned to face Harry. "It won't be the same here without you."
"I'll miss you, too, Padma." With that, the trio began to fill up their plates and ate their lunch. When they were finished eating, Harry and Hermione stood up to leave.
Before he'd left the table, a blonde girl a year younger than him got up from where she'd been sitting at the same table and said, "Goodbye, Harry McGonagall." while reaching out to shake his hand.
"Bye, Luna," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it.
"I think that the next time I see you, you won't be you." The unusual girl immediately turned and walked away.
"What?" he asked, confused, but she was already leaving the Great Hall.
"Never mind that, Harry. We've got to get going," said Hermione. Although she did respect Luna, knowing that the girl had helped Harry recognize his feelings for Hermione, Harry's girlfriend was in a hurry.
"Alright. It usually takes several months to understand what Luna is saying, anyway."
The two of them started walking toward the doors when a familiar annoying drawl came from behind them. "McGonagall, I'll bet you think you're really special getting your aunt to enter you in the tournament."
They turned to see the three stooges - Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle - facing them.
Harry knew there was no point in trying to tell him that he didn't want to be in the tournament, so he didn't try. Instead, he replied, "I will admit that it will be nice not to see you for nearly a year. In fact, I'd like to start that now. Come on, Hermione."
They began to walk away as Draco called out, "I'm not done talking to you, McGonagall! You and your mudblood…"
"Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!" said Flitwick, who'd come up behind him. "I believe that you're familiar with the rest of the punishment for using that foul, stupid expression." He was, of course, referring to the fact that the headmistress had been forcing people who used that term to write a report on the average class performance of muggle-borns versus purebloods. Contrary to bigoted pureblood philosophy, the results were that the muggle-borns out-performed the purebloods ninety-nine times out of a hundred.
"Yes, Professor Flitwick," he grumbled.
--HM--
"So," said Harry with a smirk as he sat down on a couch in C.A.R.E. headquarters, "what do you want to talk about?" He was clearly expecting the best snog he'd ever gotten.
"I want to talk about the French language. You said you don't know it."
Harry frowned. "That's right; I don't. But…"
"I'm going to try and teach it to you."
He stared at her in disbelief. "In two or three hours? That's crazy. I'll just…"
"I have an idea." Suddenly, she became nervous. "I, well, thought I could teach you through Legilimency."
"You learned that?" asked Harry.
"Yes. After I mastered Occlumency, I thought it would be helpful to learn the reverse."
Harry scratched his forehead for a few seconds before saying, "I don't recall the book I read mentioning teaching through the mind arts."
"It didn't. You see, well, sharing information to that extent is sort of personal and not used very often. You'd be allowing me to plant information in your mind, which requires completely dropping your mental shields and allowing me access. You'll have to trust me not to invade your privacy."
"Hm. You could even accidentally learn things I'd prefer to keep secret, couldn't you?"
"Well, yes. I was hoping you'd trust me to keep whatever I learn private. I promise I'd never…"
"I know, Hermione. I know." He took a deep breath. "There are some thoughts I have that…"
Hermione slightly frowned. "If you don't want me to do that, it's alright. It was just a suggestion. I thought it would help."
He scratched his chin. "This could bring us even closer together."
"It could," agreed Hermione. "I was hoping it would."
"I really do want to speak the language of the country I'll be spending several months in. I really don't want to rely on a translator." Hermione smiled again before he said, "Do it."
She sat next to him on the couch and gave him a quick kiss before staring into his eyes. "You'll have to drop your shields for me."
He complied and suddenly felt her presence in his mind. It was soothing, and in some ways disturbing to feel this extra presence in his mind. He noticed his invisible scar was twinging slightly, but ignored that, focusing on his girlfriend. He felt her apprehension about his participation in the Tournament along with sadness that they'd be separated. He felt fear that he'd fall for another girl in France and pride that he was her boyfriend. Above all, he felt love from Hermione. Though they weren't comfortable saying they felt that way, he now knew it was true.
As he thought about his love for his girlfriend, certain images came to the surface of his mind, unbidden. Seeing her in a bathing suit, kissing her, hugging her, noticing (and appreciating) different parts of Hermione's body. Mixed in with actual memories were imagined pictures as well - dreams he'd had but never told anyone about. As he tried to force those images down, he felt both embarrassment and amusement coming from his girlfriend. Realizing she was in fact seeing those images inspired him to show her how he saw her - the most beautiful, brilliant woman in the world. He knew she wasn't absolutely perfect, but she was perfect for him, and no girl, woman or pack of Veela would ever stand a chance of pulling him away from his love.
He soon began noticing images of the French alphabet, along with words from an entire French dictionary popping into his mind. He saw pages of grammar books and heard conversations in that language. He started developing a slight headache to go along with his scar's pain as his mind was absorbing all this new information, making it a permanent part of Harry's knowledge. He saw and heard flashes of conversations Hermione had participated in while on holiday in Paris, and understood them. Before he knew it, he felt Hermione's presence withdraw from his mind. They were both gasping for breath as though they'd just run a mile.
"Wow," they both said together.
"That was more intense than I'd expected," Hermione stated before blushing. "I never realized you felt that strongly…"
"I do," he interrupted her as he gazed intently into her eyes, though not using mind arts. "I love you, Hermione, and this bloody tournament is NOT going to change that."
"I love you, too," she responded, and Harry knew it was true. He leaned forward and kissed her.
--HM--
It was about two o'clock when the happy, slightly disheveled, couple emerged from C.A.R.E. headquarters, having decided to walk around the grounds, since Harry wouldn't see them for several months, unless his girlfriend found some loophole in the Tournament rules.
"I'm certainly gonna miss these walks with you," Harry commented.
"Me, too." She gave his hand a small squeeze while sighing. "I've heard some people say that temporary separation is good for relationships, but I just don't see how."
"I suppose I'll appreciate you more after months of misery. I'll see…"
"Don't talk that way. I'm sure you won't be miserable."
"I don't know…"
"Harry! Harry!" The sound of Cindy McGonagall's voice was coming out of his pocket.
"I guess Aunt Minnie told my mum," he commented while pulling out his mirror.
"Hi," he said to the worried face of his mother in all but blood. He took a deep breath. "I guess Aunt Minnie called you."
"Yes. I can't believe how unreasonable and ridiculous this is! How can they expect a fourteen-year-old, no matter how talented, to compete against three seventeen-year-olds? This contest is dangerous even for them! I…"
"Mom!" Harry interrupted, not wanting her to have a panic attack. "I do have some advantages, thanks to you and dad. I've actually had more magical schooling than the others have, plus that workshop should give me an edge as well."
"I know, honey, and I know you're at the top of your defense class, but still I'm worried, and you should be, too."
"I am, mother, believe me. I'm just trying to think positively."
"I'm sorry. You must be terrified and here I am making it worse."
"I'm fine," he said stiffly. "I'm not happy I've got to go, but since I don't have a choice, I'll do my best." He paused. "Maybe I shouldn't do my best. What if I just…"
"Don't you dare!" said both his girlfriend and mother at the same time.
"Hello, Hermione. I didn't know you were here," said Cindy. "Harry, if you go all the way to France and then purposely fail each task, you'll make yourself, Aunt Minnie, Hogwarts, England and America look very bad. They already know you didn't enter your name, and Aunt Minnie has, at her insistence, been questioned under Veritaserum to prove she didn't enter you, either. So, you don't have to prove to them you don't want to be in the Tournament by protesting like that."
"I guess not."
The three chatted for awhile before Hermione said, "I believe we'd better get back into the castle. The Ministry representative will be here any time."
"She's right. Bye, mum."
"Goodbye, Harry."
"I didn't want to make your mother even more scared, Harry, but I wondered if this had something to do with that Voldemort dream you had before the school year started."
Sighing, he replied, "I wonder. Once I'm settled in, I'll call up Remus and Sirius and see what they think."
"Good." She took his hand, and together they walked into the castle and to the Great Hall, where they found Professor Flitwick, along with Harry's trunk, which they assumed the house elves had brought. They chatted for about five minutes. The door opened, calling the young couple's attention to the person walking into the largest room in the castle.
In walked someone he never thought he'd see again. He had red hair and glasses and seemed to look irritated. It was the oldest Weasley Harry had met that he recalled. "Hi, Percy," he called out.
"Mr. McGonagall," he replied, sounding arrogant as he reached into his pocket. On orders from Mr. Crouch of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, I have made you a portkey that will take you to Beauxbatons Academy in France. Obviously, it won't work inside Hogwarts, so you'll have to accompany me to the gates before using it."
"You made the portkey?" asked Hermione. "I thought you had to work for the Department of Magical Transportation to…"
"I am fully qualified to make a portkey, Miss…Granger, I believe."
"Yes. I'm sorry to question your professionalism."
Suddenly, Harry was nervous about the portkey, but knew he couldn't do anything about it. He eyed the old-looking quill Percy was holding with apprehension.
Professor Flitwick said, "I believe that Harry is ready to leave now." The boy nodded. "Excellent. I wish you good luck, Harry."
"Thanks." He turned to Hermione. "I'll call you tonight." He then kissed her passionately, only separating when Percy cleared his throat behind them.
"Bye," Harry said one last time before grabbing his trunk and following the Ministry official out the door.
Percy didn't make a sound as he walked briskly ahead until they arrived at the gates. "Remember, you are representing England and Hogwarts, so be on your best behavior."
"Of course," Harry replied.
Percy glanced at his watch. "Now, this portkey will leave in about ten seconds, so make sure you are holding it and your trunk."
"Got it."
"Here's your portkey." He held out the very-used quill and held onto it, as well as his luggage, tightly. After a few seconds, he felt a tug from behind his navel as he was pulled into France. When the pulling stopped, he began to get his bearings, looking eye-to-eye with a rather tall woman, when he realized that his feet weren't on the ground.
BAMM! He landed roughly on the ground, dropping his trunk, which fortunately didn't break, as he fell. He knew he had a few bruises and scrapes as he slowly got up.
"It would zeem zat your portkey brought you a few feet off ze ground, Mr. McGonagall," said the tall woman.
"It was that idiot Percy Weasley. He thought he could make a portkey himself instead of having it made by someone qualified. I can't believe he was hired at the Ministry."
"I'd have never taken a portkey he made," said Cedric, who Harry now saw was there, as well as four other people. One was his aunt; two were about Cedric's age, and the last was a middle-aged man. Minerva spoke.
"Harry McGonagall, may I present Madam Maxime, the headmistress of this school, Professor Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang, and your fellow champions, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, and Cedric Diggory, who is of course from Hogwarts."
It was Madam Maxime, the woman who Harry realized was as tall as Hagrid, who spoke first. "Welcome to France," she said before bending down to kiss him on both cheeks, with Fleur following her headmistress' lead.
Fortunately, when Harry had gleaned the information on the language from Hermione, he'd also learned a few customs so wasn't overly surprised, although his ears turned pink. Using the information he'd just downloaded from his girlfriend's mind, he said hello in French.
With a smile on their faces, both Fleur and Maxime began speaking in their native tongue for a few seconds before he asked them to speak a bit slower, but did manage to converse with them while his aunt watched in shock.
"When did you learn French, Harry?" his aunt asked in English.
"Recently. I'll tell you about it later, Professor McGonagall." He turned to another champion. "Viktor Krum, I do believe I've heard of you before, though I've never seen you play. I didn't know you were still a student." He held out his hand and Krum shook it.
"I'm surprised you veren't at the World Cup last summer."
"I spent the summer in America. That's where I actually live."
"Pardon," said Fleur (in English), "but you look familiar, like I know you from somewhere."
"Hm. Well, the only time I've been in this country before was a few years ago at that Quidditch match between the Sweetwater All-Stars and the Quiberon Quafflepo…punchers." He's nearly called them Quaffle-poofters like he'd done at the game, but didn't want to offend anyone.
"I waz zer, too," replied Fleur before smiling for a moment. "You were camped right next to me."
Harry's eyebrows came together as he tried to remember, then his ears turned pink yet again as he recalled staring at her for a few moments. "I think I remember you," he replied.
"Well," said Madam Maxime, "I believe eet eez time to go back into ze zkool."
For the first time since landing, Harry looked at his surroundings. He was standing in a grassy clearing that was about half a kilometer from the building that had (unbeknownst to muggle history) inspired King Louis XIV in his design of the Palace of Versailles. It was easily as big as Hogwarts, but this wasn't a grim-looking medieval castle. This was a beautiful palace fit for a king. It appeared to be made of gold, although Harry guessed that was a magical affect. The building he was staring at was the greatest tribute to French classical architecture in existence, and unfortunately, the muggles would never see it. Harry didn't know the terminology to describe the building properly, so he said the only thing he could. "Wow."
"We are zo far from ze zkool because of ze wards," said Maxime conversationally before calling a house elf to take Harry's trunk.
"Where am I going to sleep?" he asked.
"Inside the expanded carriage with the other Hogwarts students," replied Professor McGonagall.
As they began to walk, Professor Maxime informed Harry, "Eet iz good zat you zpeak French, because we `ave concluded zat you will be taking clazzes with zee Beauxbatons ztudentz."
Harry was surprised at that. "What?"
Aunt Minnie explained, "The other Hogwarts students here, as well as the Durmstrang ones, are in N.E.W.T. level classes and we are letting them study independently. Otherwise, we'd have to bring all our teachers with us."
"That makes sense," agreed Harry.
"However, in your case, I don't think you're quite ready for completely independent study. Therefore, we decided that it would be best for you to attend classes with the other fourth years, and had been trying to find a solution for the language barrier. Apparently, you've already solved that problem."
"Yes."
They took him on a brief tour of the palace that had been converted into a school, and Harry was truly impressed. Instead of being dark and foreboding, it was bright and cheerful. Their Great Hall was roughly the same size as the one at Hogwarts, but it contained several smaller tables that sat up to ten people, rather than just the house tables. Each corner of the room contained an exquisite sculpture of a famous French wizard.
Soon, Harry was shown another room. The walls contained several paintings and Harry was surprised when he realized that they were the former headmasters and headmistresses of the school.
In French, Maxime informed Harry that they believe that all the students, and not just the Headmasters, should benefit from the wisdom of past heads of the school, so the portraits were hung in this public room rather than her office. Harry replied that's probably a good idea and that he'd make it a point to talk to a few of those paintings while he's staying here.
His aunt seemed to know they were badmouthing Hogwarts, and so suggested in English that they continue the tour. While they were finishing his tour of the castle, he was given the list of classes available to him and told to look it over that night so that the next day he'd be able to make a schedule. They didn't run into any other students because classes were in session, but Harry was told he would meet them at dinner.
--HM--
Please review. Thank you to those who have.
I'll give more details on Beauxbatons as I decide them.
I don't know how to describe architectural style, and believe that a picture is worth 1,000 words. A picture of the Palace of Versailles is located at http: / / commons . wikimedia . org / wiki / File: Versailles_Cour_Royale_Sud . jpg (minus the spaces). You could also look up `Palace of Versailles' on Google for more information. The idea is that Beauxbatons is even more spectacular than this palace.
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