Chapter Text
“Are you sure you have everything packed?”
Louis stuffed another pair of socks into his trunk and surveyed the mess within. As far as he could tell, there were at least three pairs of pants and two sets of robes in it, mostly wrapped around his broomstick to keep it from being damaged in transit. Good enough.
“I’m fine, mum. Don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say,” his mum said with a small smile. “You’re not the one whose eldest is buggering off to a different country.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “It’s only two weeks, and it’s France, not Antarctica. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Still,” his mum replied. “It’ll take some getting used to. You only just came back home from school.”
“Mum.”
“I know, I know, I’m being silly. It’s just—I feel dreadful about it, but I need to ask. Are you quite sure this is what you truly want to do? Considering?” She looked worried, Louis thought, and for good reason, really. Louis felt a familiar surge of guilt at the dark circles beneath his mum’s eyes.
“If you need me to stay, I will,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
“I do,” his mum replied. “Of course I do, and I don’t want you to, truly. I just—you’ve already fallen behind one year because you’ve had to help out so much at home, and I just want you to weigh all your options. An apprenticeship over the summer can be a great starting point for a career, and with only a year to go before your NEWTS…”
“I know, mum,” Louis said. “I’ve considered it, I promise. I just—I don’t know what I want to do after Hogwarts, and this exchange programme might be the only chance I have to go abroad for a long time—unless we win the Goblin lottery, that is—and I… I really, really want to do this.”
“Well then,” his mum said. She walked closer and pulled Louis into a tight hug. “I’m happy for you. It’s a great honour having been chosen, and I hope you have a wonderful time.”
“Thanks, mum,” Louis whispered, hugging her back just as tightly. “I’ll floo to check in on you and the girls, alright? As often as I can.”
“I know you will,” his mum said. “Now get your arse downstairs and help Fizzy with supper before she burns the house down.”
On the wall above Louis’s desk, his calendar cleared its throat.
“Nineteen hours left until Meeting at Leaky Cauldron,” it said, self-importantly.
Louis disentangled himself from his mum and glared at it. “I’ve told you to stop that!” he said. “Mum, it’s been doing an hourly countdown all day. I can’t figure out how to turn it off.”
His mum laughed, patting his shoulder. “At least there’s no chance you’ll be late tomorrow.”
Suddenly, there was a loud crash downstairs, followed by Fizzy yelling about fire and Lottie’s familiar shout of exasperation. Louis and his mum looked at each other, shared a knowing smile and sprinted together towards the stairs.
As per usual, The Leaky Cauldron was full of people. Louis craned his neck and looked across the main room, trying to spot where his group might be converging. Apart from the other Slytherin delegate, Dorothea Grey-Smith from the year below him, he didn’t know who else would be in the exchange; before he had time to start feeling lost, however, Professor Sinistra appeared next to him, pointing towards the far left of the bar.
“Professor Longbottom has gone to set up our transport,” she said. “Please take a seat with the other students while we get everything sorted.”
Louis nodded and did as he was told, dragging his trunk behind him towards a large table in the corner, where a few other Hogwarts students were already assembled.
Right away, he recognised the Keeper for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and general-do-gooder-with-a-stick-the-size-of-a-tree-up-his-arse Liam Payne, sitting together with one of the Hufflepuff girls in their year. Another Smith, one of Dorothea’s cousins (and why some of them seemed to always end up in Hufflepuff was a mystery to him—Slytherins to the core the lot of them, really) and one of the truly devious ones, at that—already engaged to a Greengrass before her NEWTS were even in.
Louis would have been impressed if he wasn’t busy rolling his eyes at the utter cliché of it all.
The Ravenclaws were represented by the Patil twins from the year below. The brother was chatty and a Divination prodigy, Louis knew, but that was about it. So that meant that the only ones still missing were the Gryffindors. How very typical.
Right on cue, there was a loud woosh from the fireplace next to where Louis was sitting, and two people fell out of it, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor.
Oh no.
Louis did a double take, hoping against hope that he was mistaken and that the Gryffindor delegates weren’t actually the Irish nightmare duo, also known as Niall Horan and Ainsley Finnegan—Gryffindor Beaters and a general pain in the arse of anyone unlucky enough to come their way. Louis could still remember the epic pranks by James Potter and his ilk from when he was a first-year (before the eldest Potter thankfully graduated and his younger brother and sister proved to be a whole lot nicer without their big brother there to constantly egg them on), but as bad as James and his Weasley cousins had been, Horan and Finnegan had them beat. Absolute terrors both of them, and while Louis definitely was not one to turn down a good prank, he greatly objected to them being played on him, or members of his House, for that matter.
Horan and Finnegan were getting off the floor, shoving at each other as they gathered their belongings. Louis hoped that Beauxbatons would turn out to be a large sort of place. And that the building they’d be staying in was invulnerable to fire.
“Settle down, everyone, settle down,” Professor Sinistra admonished. “Ms Finnegan, please remove the Sticking Spell you just cast on Mr Horan’s trunk. There’ll be time enough for your shenanigans once we’ve arrived in France.”
Finnegan’s face was a study in innocence; Louis instinctively pulled his own belongings closer as the two Gryffindors sorted themselves out. Professor Sinistra, meanwhile, had pulled out a satchel and was withdrawing thick scrolls of parchment for each of them with smooth flicks of her wand.
“I’m sure you have all read up extensively on the history of Beauxbatons and its approach to magical education,” she said. “But just in case any of you accidentally misplaced the orientation scroll you were given together with your acceptance notice for the exchange, here is a handy copy. I urge you all to at least skim it. Every magical school has its own traditions, and things will go a lot smoother for both you and Hogwarts’s reputation if you make an effort to keep up an attitude of openness and respect.”
“Not to mention,” Professor Longbottom added, walking up to the group with a satchel of his own in his hand, “that this is the first exchange programme for Hogwarts in almost a century. We’ve been through a long, painful restoration process since the last war, and while I agree that the focus on rebuilding and change was necessary, it’s now almost thirty years since Riddle was defeated, and it’s high time to start working on our ties with other magical people. If this exchange goes well, it will mean a lot, not only for you, but for future students as well. So be on your best behaviour.”
General nodding and murmurs of assent followed Professor Longbottom’s speech, Payne and Hufflepuff-Smith looking particularly eager. Louis sometimes wondered if the Hufflepuffs had special classes where they listened to authority figures speak and practiced their matching looks of fascination. Surely it couldn’t be a natural talent in all of them.
“Now, we’re leaving by Portkey from the Ministry in precisely twenty-two minutes,” Professor Sinistra said. “So if there are no further questions, please follow me.”
Louis shot a quick smile at Dorothea as the whole group got to their feet. Less than half an hour and he would be in France, far away from his regular life and with a full two weeks ahead of him with nothing and no one to worry about.
Louis couldn’t wait to get there.
The Portkey activated right on time, and after the tell-tale tug in his stomach and some general swirling and confusion, Louis and the rest of their group found themselves walking through a bright corridor towards a pair of tall, beautifully gilded doors. Both the walls and the ceiling were made of something that looked like a cross between glass and marble, and some kind of moss full of sweet-smelling blue flowers silenced their footsteps as they walked towards the doors.
Louis suddenly felt very shabby in his plain black school robes.
“Présentons la délegation de Poudlard,” Professor Sinistra said, sinking into a deep curtsy with Professor Longbottom right next to her, following her example. There was a soft tinkling of bells, and the doors slid open.
“Oh Bríd Ní Chléirigh,” Louis heard Horan say behind him.
The first thing Louis noticed was the sound of water. There was a soft, soothing bubbling, like from a forest creek, and when he looked around, he saw water flowing down the walls, evaporating in a sparkling mist a few feet above the floor. Louis stretched out a hand, wondering, and realised with fascination that it was no mere charm—the water was real, and quite pleasantly tempered.
“This is the Grande Salle, or the Great Hall,” Professor Sinistra said. “This is where you’ll take all your meals. Tomorrow, when you’ve had time to settle in, there’ll be a Welcoming Feast in your honour.”
“Ooh, look at the lights,” Dorothea said.
Louis couldn’t help but agree. Unlike the Great Hall at Hogwarts, the ceiling wasn’t charmed to reflect the sky above it, but instead twinkled with a multitude of lights that were moving serenely across the space in symmetric patterns. As they watched, the lights formed a large crest, picturing a pair of crossed wands, each shooting out three stars.
“The crest of Beauxbatons,” Professor Longbottom told them quietly. “The three stars represent the classification of magic in levels of intimacy with the person, creature or organism channeling it. It’s a different perspective than the one we have at home, but a very interesting one. Miss Patil, perhaps you know what I’m referring to?”
“Of course”, Priya Patil answered, and Louis surreptitiously rolled his eyes. Ravenclaws—always ready with an answer. “The French call it Les trois niveaux d’intimité. There’s a tradition here of using music as a metaphor to explain the different levels, where la voix is the sharpest, lightest level—the melody—le corps is the middle range, or the harmonies filling out the sound, and le coeur is the bass register, where the root and rhythm to magic are found.”
“Excellent answer, Miss Patil,” Professor Longbottom said, beaming at her. “I’d give twenty points to Ravenclaw, but as the school year’s no longer in session, I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the honour of being the first Hogwarts students to take a seat in the Grande Salle. After you.”
Priya looked slightly overwhelmed for a second, but quickly collected herself. She tugged lightly at her brother’s sleeve, pulling him with her towards a round table in the centre of the room, on which plates, glasses and cutlery were shimmering into view. The rest of the group followed, and as soon as they had all sat down, large soap bubbles started forming in the air above them, drifting down towards their plates and melting into small, delicious-looking dishes.
Louis looked around, noticing that everyone seemed to have got different things on their plates; his own held an assortment of meats and some sort of melted cheese dish while Dorothea’s (who was an avid vegetarian, Louis knew from hearing her and her friends go on and on about it during meals) was a symphony of different coloured vegetables, so he guessed that the castle was trying to show off by accommodating everyone’s preferences. The first bite of his food confirmed this theory, and as they ate, new bubbles kept forming, revealing treat after treat until Louis honestly thought he would have to be carried away from the table.
During the entire meal, the hall remained empty of any people apart from their group, and with every passing moment, Louis’s curiosity grew.
“Where is everyone?” he asked the person sitting next to him, who happened to be Horan. “I thought the school year here ended later than at home.”
“No idea,” Horan answered. “It’s a bit early in the day though, maybe they’re still in class? Ains? What do you reckon?”
Ainsley Finnegan shrugged and popped a piece of cheese into her mouth. Horan looked back at Louis as though to say ‘well, what can you do?’ and followed her example. Louis sighed.
“When you’ve all finished your lunch,” Professor Sinistra said, “we’ll go together to the dormitories where representatives of the school will meet you for a brief tour. Professor Longbottom and I will then bid you goodbye. If anything should happen during your stay that requires you to get in touch with someone back home urgently, please alert a member of staff here, and they will help you. For non-urgent matters there’s a wonderful aviary here which you’ll be allowed access to; just keep in mind that the transit time from here to England will likely be a few days for any messages you send and receive.”
“What about Floo?” Payne asked. “Surely there must be at least one fireplace with student access in the castle?”
“The Floo system doesn’t stretch this far South, I’m afraid,” Professor Longbottom replied. “Beauxbatons has their own means of travel and communications similar to ours, but it’s limited to Southern Europe and a few points in Northern Africa.”
Louis tried not to let his dismay show. A few days for a letter? That meant he wouldn’t be able to get news from or to his mum nearly as often as he would like during his stay. He’d have to send a letter tonight, inform her of the lack of Floo—even so, it probably wouldn’t reach her until Tuesday or Wednesday…
Horan was looking at him, and Louis made an effort to pull his face into a suitably casual expression. The last thing he needed now was for some Gryffindor kid to start cracking jokes about the poor little Slytherin being homesick.
Besides, things at home had been fine since his mum got her job at St Mungo’s. And Lottie was definitely just as good as Louis at taking care of the twins during the day. He needed to stop worrying and start enjoying the fact that he had two weeks entirely to himself.
Everything would be perfectly fine.
“Cette partie du château date du XVe siècle. Observez les fresques, elles sont très répresentives de la période,” a tall, dark-haired boy told them, leading the group through hallway after hallway, yabbering away in rapid French with a few mispronounced words in English thrown in that Louis, nevertheless, felt he understood quite well just from context. Check out our rad castle. Bet you’ve never seen anything even half as posh before. You Englishmen probably go to school in a barn, yada yada, could I interest you in some snails for dinner? Piece of cake, really.
“Dans un moment, nous allons sortir dans les jardins,” the boy said. “Faites attention à ne pas toucher les arbres à côté de la dix-septième fontaine. Les nymphes qui y vivent ne sont pas très agréables en ce moment.”
He led them down yet another corridor and made a curt bow to the door at the end of it. The door opened, and Louis found himself looking out over miles and miles of sweeping grounds, where hundreds of perfect paths of gravel ran in symmetrical patterns between opulent flower beds, artfully sculpted bushes and a truly astonishing number of fountains.
Louis raised a hand. “Excuse me? Is it OK if I go to the bathroom first?”
The boy looked at him, vaguely confused.
“Um, toilet?” Louis tried, attempting to give the word a french inflection. Horan sniggered.
The boy’s expression cleared.
“Oui, là-bas,” he said, pointing to a door a little further down the corridor they’d just walked through. Louis nodded gratefully and hurried off.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d taken the wrong door. The bathroom was ridiculously large, decorated with white marble and with a tiny fountain playing in the middle of the room. There was some kind of plant winding itself up on the sinks, framing the large mirrors above each basin, and instead of the vaguely unpleasant smell Louis usually associated with student bathrooms, it smelt pleasantly of lilac. Louis turned slowly, gazing around in wonder. Beauxbatons certainly knew how to do the whole graceful thing.
As he finished up and went to wash his hands, he was still lost in wonderment. Only the sound of voices passing by outside reminded him that the rest of his group was still waiting for him and that he’d probably lingered too long as it was. He dried his hands quickly and went for the door.
Someone entered just then, taking a startled step backwards as Louis almost walked into him.
“Oh. Pardon.”
Louis looked up into a face framed by curling brown hair, with a wide mouth and green eyes, and all his limited knowledge of French suddenly and completely left him.
“Bonjour,” he managed after what felt like too many seconds.
The boy grinned. “Bonjour.”
He took half a step closer to Louis and into a patch of light coming through from one of the windows. For a moment, his face and hair seemed to almost shimmer. Louis felt a little dazed.
He opened his mouth again, could think of absolutely nothing even remotely clever to say, and finally decided not to risk it. Through the weird wool-like feeling that seemed to have taken over his brain, he could hear his group moving about. He made a vague gesture towards the door and sidled past the boy out into the corridor, trying not to wince at himself.
Louis learned, with some help from the Patil twins (whose French was, of course, annoyingly good) that they were each going to room with a student from Beauxbatons for the duration of the exchange. Instead of being divided into Houses, Beauxbatons grouped their students by year and magical specialty—something to do with the whole French classification of magic. Louis hoped he’d have time to learn more about that before he left, because at the moment, it just confused him. The dormitories were different as well: one bedroom for each student instead of the shared ones Louis was used to, with a smaller common room or study area for every ten to twelve rooms.
The one Louis was directed to late on the first day was at the end of a long row of similar doors up in one of the castle’s many towers. He liked it from the first look. The room was quite small, but there were large windows along the wall, making the room bright and welcoming as well as showing Louis a beautiful view of the grounds and, further on, of the Pyrenean mountains surrounding the school. Whoever lived there clearly liked the ocean a lot; nautical drawings and paintings decorated the walls, with a large portrait of a family of mermaids hanging right above a bed to the right. The opposite side of the room held a second bed, which Louis supposed was going to be his for the stay—mainly because both the comforter and the pillows had been charmed with the Hogwarts crest. As he reached out and touched the one on the comforter, the Slytherin part of the crest began to sparkle, and as Louis watched, the snake began to grow, until the original crest had been replaced with the one for Louis’s House.
It was a neat piece of Charm work, and Louis had to admit that it did make him feel oddly welcome.
He took a moment to shuffle through his trunk, which had already been placed at the foot of his bed, found his toothbrush and night robes and decided that getting some sleep would just have to take precedence over manners this time around. He’d have two whole weeks to get to know his roommate, after all.
He fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
The next morning, Louis woke up to the sound of an invisible string quartet playing a jaunty sort of tune that simultaneously made him want to jump out of bed and go for a jog and curse whoever had invented the blasted thing into oblivion.
On the other side of the room, the second bed looked exactly like it had when Louis had fallen asleep. No sign of a roommate having been in during the night. Weird.
He got dressed and made his way down towards the Grande Salle, where he found Niall and Ainsley already sitting at their table from yesterday—the latter looking barely awake. Both Patil twins were up already as well, but they had opted for joining a few of the Beauxbatons students and were chatting away happily in French about what sounded like Astronomy. Honestly, they couldn’t be more Ravenclaw if they tried.
“Good morning,” he told Niall, who nodded a greeting in return. Ainsley only muttered something vague over the rim of her coffee cup.
Louis sat down, looking around the table. It was laden with baskets of croissants and jars of marmalade and honey, and there were large, ornate pots of coffee—one of which Ainsley held cradled protectively in the crook of an elbow—but there was no sign of the bubbles of the day before.
“I’m guessing no more à la carte, then?” Louis said, trying to make his tone light. Niall snorted.
“Unfortunately, no,” he said. “And if you’re looking for the eggs and bacon, you’re going to be disappointed. I don’t know how these people survive. I mean, look at this.”
He held up a pain au chocolat and glared at it in disgust. “What kind of breakfast is this for a growing lad?”
“Niall nurses a fond hope that he’s still growing,” Ainsley murmured. “Probably because the alternative is too terrible to consider.”
Niall shoved her good-naturedly, and Louis found himself grinning. Niall and Ainsley from afar had always seemed kind of exhausting, but seeing them give each other the same amount of grief they gave the rest of the world was—well, somehow uplifting. Louis was still kind of amazed that they had the energy for that kind of constant bickering, though.
Niall leaned closer to him, with a kind of conspiratory air. “We’re planning a coup,” he said. “Want to join?”
Louis leaned in as well, lowering his voice. “Will it get me a Full English?”
“That is exactly the point.”
“Well, you’ve piqued my interest, at least,” Louis said, and Niall grinned at him, clapping his shoulder. He then turned back to Ainsley, who seemed to be joining them in the world of the waking at last, and started asking her something about her roommate. Louis listened for a while, but soon found his attention wandering. He looked around the Grande Salle, taking in the light streaming in through the large windows, the prettily fragile decorations everywhere and all the students—noting especially the ones with curling brown hair.
“What are you looking for?”
Louis turned back guiltily towards Niall.
“Nothing. Thought I saw someone.”
The boy from the bathroom wasn’t there. It seemed like Beauxbatons was emptying for the holidays, with only a few students staying for summer classes. He was probably on a train home already. Or—well, whatever means of transport they used here.
“So,” Louis said, trying to find his way back into the conversation. “You’ve met your roommates, then?”
Niall grinned, and beside him, Ainsley managed a truly wicked smile as well.
“I think we could have some fun with them,” she said. “How about you?”
“Not yet,” Louis said, shrugging it off. “I suppose he’s coming in late or something. No one really told me. Which reminds me—did anyone tell you anything about how we are supposed to understand anyone here?”
“Translation spell,” Niall said promptly. “Got one from a book. It’s super easy. You just follow my lead.”
Louis glanced at Ainsley, whose face had gone very innocent.
“Yeah, OK. I’ll check in with you later about how that’s working out,” he said.
At the next table, the Patil twins stood up with the rest of the students. Louis caught the eye of the brother, Padmam, who waved at them.
“It’s time for the tour,” he said, then followed quickly after his sister and the rest of the students.
“They’ve certainly gone native quickly,” Niall said, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, typical. Ravenclaws.”
“You know what Professor Longbottom would say if he heard you stereotyping Houses that way,” Ainsley admonished, then ruined her political correctness somewhat by adding, “Come on, let’s join the nerds.”
Louis nodded, grabbed a last croissant from a basket and headed off with the others.
The first part of the tour was more or less a repetition of the day before. The boy leading their group was still speaking almost exclusively in French, so Louis found it hard to concentrate. He spent his time listening to Niall and Ainsley’s somewhat disturbing ideas for pranking their roommates and looking around at the rest of the group.
Suddenly, he became aware of running footsteps behind them, crunching against the gravel path.
“Michel,” a voice said from right behind him, and Louis turned to find the boy from the day before, standing only a few feet away. “Désolé, il y avait un problème avec les Portoloins à Paris…”
Their guide waved a hand impatiently. “C’est pas grave. Voici, à toi.”
Michel walked off and the boy from the bathroom made his way to the front of the group and then turned and waved at them, grinning.
“Hi, everyone,” he said, in excellent English. “I’m Harry. I’ll be taking over as guide for the afternoon, and we’ll be heading off now to see some of the Beauxbatons annexes. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me. Oh! And sorry, which of you is Louis Tomlinson?”
Louis cleared his throat, then waved.
“Oh.” Harry looked at him, then grinned in recognition. “Hey, that’s you.”
“Uh-huh,” Louis replied intelligently.
“So, yes,” Harry said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm and almost knocking over a statue, “head this way. We’ll be travelling by Mist Arch, so prepare a drying spell.”
As the group moved on, Harry moved to Louis’s side and held out his hand. “So, we’re going to be roommates,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Louis said, shaking his hand.
“Sorry I wasn’t there last night to greet you,” Harry said. “Had to go to Paris. My sister was getting her doctorate, so, you know. Big deal.”
“That’s fine,” Louis said, and then made an effort to stop being so very monosyllabic. “Doctorate, that’s big! And we have plenty of time to make up for it.”
Of course, as soon as those words were out of his mouth, he mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Plenty of time to make up for it. Honestly. But Harry only grinned widely at him, raising his eyebrows.
“Guess it’s true what they say about Hogwarts boys being forward,” he said, taking Louis completely off guard. In a good way.
“Your English is great,” he said, reminding himself to stay cool and collected.
“My mum’s English,” Harry said. “Accounts for the stupidly hard-to-pronounce-in-French name. And the bilingualism, which tends to make me guide whenever we have foreign guests. Which, you know, not too bad. I get to meet fun people.” He grinned at Louis again, and Louis drew a deep breath. If Harry kept smiling like that, the next two weeks had the possibility to be very interesting indeed.
“I am dead,” Niall declared, as they finally arrived back at the castle. “If someone could levitate me up the steps, that’d be grand.”
“I could hex the soles of your shoes to feel like they’re on fire,” Ainsley suggested. “That’d make you move your arse pretty quick, I wager.”
“You wouldn’t,” Niall protested, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Our bond of friendship is strong and true.”
“You’re in my way to get to the feast, though,” Ainsley said. “There’d be extenuating circumstances.”
“She’s right, you know,” Louis cut in, thoroughly enjoying the surprise of the Gryffindors’ faces as he did so. “Deprivation of food is considered a form of torture by the Wizengamot. She’d definitely have a case arguing self-defense.”
Ainsley stared at him for a moment, and then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “You know, Tomlinson, maybe I’ve misjudged you.”
“No you haven’t,” Niall said adamantly. Then he turned to Louis, and a thoughtful look came over his face. “But maybe we’ve overlooked the usefulness of other perspectives.”
Ainsley’s grin grew even wider. “An extra set of skills is always good.” She held out her hand, and Niall immediately followed her lead.
Louis looked between the two of them, taken aback. The Gryffindors waited, the challenge clear in the air.
What the heck.
Louis held out his own hand and shook Ainsley’s and Niall’s in turn. The purpose of the exchange had been to make friends in new places, after all.
And if they turned out to be pretending to be friendly to double-cross him later, well. The Slytherin private library had a whole section of books with very imaginative spells to deal with such situations, so either way. Win-win.
About an hour and a truly ridiculous amount of food later, Louis was sitting in the Grande Salle, idly poking at some kind of cream-filled pastry, as the world-famous form of Madame Maxime—honoured war hero and current Headmistress of Beauxbatons—took the stage to loud smattering of applause.
“Bonsoir, tout le monde, et bienvenue. And to our students from ‘ogwarts. I bid you very welcome. Beauxbatons ‘az a long tradition of caring for and developing ze unique gifts of magic, and we want to show you somezing very special. Please enjoy.”
Madame Maxime left the stage and a mist started forming on the edges of the podium, soon covering it entirely. Louis craned his neck to see better, but could only make out a bit of indistinct movement before the mist dissipated again, leaving a full stage in its wake. Soft notes from a flute started floating in from the wings, and the stage slowly filled with people—students, by the look of them—forming a demicircle in three tiers, holding about fifty people in total. Harry was among them, taking a spot in the third tier. Louis’s interest peaked.
Once the choir was in place, a large crate was placed in front of them, and as Louis and the others watched, a dark-haired boy of about seventeen stepped up to it and held out an apple. A few murmured words and the apple floated into the air, split down the centre, and the seeds fell out into the boy’s open hand. He put them in the crate and then took a step back.
The apple wedges floated for a moment longer and then fell to the floor. And the music started.
First, there was only a steady beat of bass tones in three-part harmony. It was slow and hypnotic and made Louis think of fresh dirt for some reason—of the smell in the greenhouses at Hogwarts right after new seedlings had been replanted into larger pots. He closed his eyes for a second, and then heard a sharp gasp to his right, making him look back up.
His eyes widened; a small seedling was pushing its way out of the crate, growing taller with every repetition of the pulsing music. When it was a couple of feet high, branches began to shoot off from the trunk, and small, green leaves started forming.
A soft melody started up from the back tier of the choir, and the tree seemed to stretch its branches. Then the second tier began to sing a harmony, and some of the leaves turned into blossoms.
“Earth Magic,” Dorothea whispered, sounding awed. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t send me here instead of to Hogwarts. Look at their control—it’s absolutely fantastic!”
On stage, the tree was now five or six feet tall, with a crown full of leaves and blossoms. The dark-haired boy from before walked up to it and held out his hand, stroking the bark softly before taking up the melody the others were singing and making it his own, singing a solo that went higher and higher until it ended on a last, soaring note and the tree shivered, blossoms falling in droves to the floor and bright, red apples taking their places on the branches.
The choir held the last chord until every blossom had fallen, and then applause broke out all around the room.
Next to Louis, Dorothea was clapping wildly, same as the rest of the people in their group. Louis joined them, adding a whistle when his eyes wandered towards the back row for a moment and he found Harry looking right back at him with a big smile on his face.
“I’m going to go talk to the soloist,” Dorothea declared. “Gloria, come with me.”
“What do you need me for?” Gloria protested. “I’m not the one who needs to make a good political match.”
“Come with me or I’ll tell aunt Crystal about that thing at Easter,” Dorothea hissed. “Your French is better than mine. Come help me.”
“I don’t see how I should be punished just because my dad happens to know useful languages instead of hopelessly obscure ones,” Gloria grumbled. Dorothea shot her a threatening look. “Fine, fine, I’ll go with you.”
The two of them set off to corner the dark-haired French boy, which left Louis quite alone at his part of the table. He looked back towards the stage and almost immediately spotted Harry standing there, talking animatedly with two other singers.
Well, perhaps Louis, too, should take the opportunity to go look at the magical tree. Learning about new spells and all that.
He walked up to the stage and milled about in the crowd of people wanting to touch the trunk of the tree or who tried to reach for the branches. He gradually shifted closer to where Harry was standing, until he could quietly draw his wand and pull an apple down from one of the branches. Then he did what every mature person would do and lobbed the apple at Harry’s head.
He’d aimed a few inches off target, so that the apple wouldn’t actually hit anyone, but of course—because Louis had the worst luck with these things—Harry chose that precise moment to move and ended up having the apple explode into a big mushy mess right in his face.
Huh. So magically grown fruit wasn’t all that structurally sound. One part of Louis’s brain made a note of this fact while the rest of him rushed forward, elbowing students out of the way.
“Sorry, sorry, Harry? You all right there, mate?”
Harry spluttered and coughed in reply, ineffectually trying to get the apple goop out of his eyes with the sleeves of his robes. Louis raised his wand and cast a quick cleaning spell, realising too late that it was one he normally used for a whole different kind of sticky mess. Oh well, means to an end.
Harry looked up at him, feeling his face and hair carefully. “What the—”
“Sorry,” Louis said again. “I just threw it as a joke. It wasn’t supposed to blow up in your face”
Harry stared at him for a minute, then he grinned. “That’s what he said.”
Louis gaped at him.
“No harm done, though,” Harry continued. He took a step closer to Louis—which brought him quite inappropriately close, really, since Louis had already been right next to him—and looked up at him through his lashes. “I hear apple juice is really good for the skin. Makes it all supple and firm.”
Louis blinked at him, suddenly feeling himself leaning forward as though pulled by invisible strings. Harry’s face was doing that thing again, where it looked almost shimmering, and Louis wanted very badly to reach up and touch it. Before he could follow through on that, however, something cold and sticky exploded all over his face.
“Payback’s a bitch,” Harry whispered in his ear, snickering as he walked off, leaving Louis spluttering and trying to get pieces of mushy apple out of his eyes.
He cast the cleaning spell a second time and then blinked for good measure. A happy grin spread across his face as he carefully felt his hair for any remaining traces. It was going to be a very interesting two weeks.