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Chapter Text

          Harry Potter had never realized how provincial his world view was until he snapped into place in an alley in the middle of Paris. The International Portkey wasn't the smoothest ride and as he righted himself, trying not to spill his breakfast on the pavement, he tried to take stock of his surroundings. Constant vigilance, he thought with a wry grin. Pushing the nausea down, he surveyed his surroundings. He thought it out of place that so few Muggles were around during mid-morning in Paris but he reasoned that Place Cachée was located in the nightlife district of Montmartre for a reason.

                                                                               ---

          When Harry had received the letter from Madame Maxime offering him an apprenticeship in any subject he'd like with the guarantee of a place on the teaching staff after 2 years at Beauxbatons, he immediately put it in the pile with the rest of the offers that had piled up over the past year. Everyone had seemingly left him alone for all of 1 month after the Battle of Hogwarts and then the owls started coming. Ron and Hermione had helped him clear out a couple rooms in 12 Grimmauld Place after they returned from Australia having restored her parent's memories. Regulus's old room had become a cozy study with a window looking over the terrace and back alley. Harry had found himself in the study more often than his own bedroom with a bottle of Ogden's finest looking out that window into the early hours of the morning wondering what to do with himself now.

          His friends would come and go from the house, making sure Harry was showering and eating. The Weasley's threw him a big birthday party that July. Being the family that he knows and loves, they threw themselves into the first reason to celebrate since losing Fred with raucous abplomb. Any opportunity to celebrate something big or small and there was bound to be a cluster of red-haired witches and wizards forcing good back into the world for balance.

          After months and months of Harry listlessly moving through life without any direction, Ron and Hermione sat him down in his study while they sorted through the myriad of options laid before him. Invitations to professional Quidditch tryouts, offers for political positions, invitations to every gala under the sun, and an offer from Kingsley Shacklebolt to join the Auror department with the assurance that he wouldn't have to take his NEWTs. Of course, all 3 of them received that one along with a number of their schoolmates who were in Dumbledore's Army, but Ron was the only one of the 3 to take Kingsley up on it.

          However, the one offer that Harry kept going back to over and over again in his mind was the letter from Madame Maxime. It was so out of place. Light blue parchment that smelled of rosewater and citrus with the most elegant handwriting he'd ever seen. He just kept wondering what possessed her to send it to him. He had only met the woman a handful of times and it wasn't like he had saved her country from a megalomaniac. He wasn't particularly academic and he was sure there were better candidates for a professorship at Beauxbatons. He was only 18 and couldn't even eat regularly, let alone be in charge of teaching a whole castle full of students.

          When he voiced these concerns to Ron and Hermione over dinner one night in June a year after the battle, Hermione immediately went to work.

          “Harry, I want you to think very carefully about what I'm about to say.” said Hermione. She had a glint in her eye that made Harry's stomach seize. He had the feeling that he was about to become a passion project and braced himself for whatever she would do.

          “You have spent the past 7 years running and fighting from Voldemort. You weren't particularly the most studious person, but you had a better excuse than most when it came to your average marks. Considering what you were dealing with, I'm actually quite confident that if you weren't trying to save yourself and the whole of Magical Britain, you would've excelled in most of your coursework.” she explained.

          “But you were fighting too, Hermione. What you said doesn't hold up considering you were with me every step of the way and were top of the class.” Harry reasoned.

          “Mate, it's Hermione,” Ron interjected with a look of pride towards her, “she's the exception, not the rule, yeah?”

          Taking a moment to fight her sudden blushing, Hermione continued “If you could pick a favorite subject right now, what would you pick? And I don't want to hear Defense. You liked it because it was useful, not because of the magic itself” she said, leveling him with a severe look.

          “I………I don't actually know.” Harry replied after a long pause.

          “Well, we can probably rule out Potions and History of Magic. No one but Malfoy and I paid any attention in History and you hate Potions” Hermione replied, swirling her wine in her glass.

          “I liked Potions a little when Slughorn taught it.” Harry grumbled.

          “You only liked it because you had Snape's book, Harry. Can you honestly say you'd like to be a Potions Master?” Hermione asked.

          “Egguuhh” Ron scoffed, “Spending your life hunched over a cauldron in a damp dungeon sounds like a nightmare.”

          Harry set to work separating the bacon pieces out of his carbonara that had gone cold. Ron had found a new love of cooking recently and he became a regular fixture in Harry's kitchen, experimenting with new recipes and trying new wine pairings. Harry lost himself in thought. What branch of magic could he see himself actually enjoying, not just one he was good at. Transfiguration was too cerebral, Potions was boring and meticulous, and he had dropped Care of Magical Creatures after his OWLs because he didn't want to endure whatever Hagrid would try to convince the class was a “lovely and misunderstood creature” while trying to maim them all. Hermione had a point that while he loved Defense, he loved it because of what it could do for him instead of the magic itself. He hoped that he would never have to use it again to the extent that he did.

          “Charms” Harry said suddenly.

          There was a long moment where Ron looked bewildered and Hermione stared at him like she was trying to figure out an extremely difficult Arithmancy problem without being able to use a piece of scrap parchment. “That's a surprising choice for you” she said slowly. “Why Charms?”

          Harry had to consider what he said next carefully, as Hermione was sure to pick apart any answer he had. When thinking back to his time at school, there was really only one class, save for Remus's defense classes, that he consistently enjoyed. Granted, Flitwick's classroom management style probably had a lot to do with that, but Harry ruminated for the first time about the actual magic he had learned there. Charms was where he cast his first spell, where he learned beautiful magic that amazed him over and over again. If he wanted one thing in his life moving forward, it was to be the cause of simple joys. He had caused suffering and had suffered twice fold. All of them had. If he could distill and bottle one feeling, it would be the wonder that performing that first spell had made him feel.

          “Charms is just….fun,” Harry explained, “its convenience, its wonder. I like Charms and no one can say I'm not talented in that subject.” Hermione’s eyes shifted off to the side for a brief second.

          “It may have taken me a while to learn Accio and a couple of the others but I got there eventually. You said that I would’ve been a better student without Voldemort appearing every year. Plus, you try being entered into a death tournament against your will at 14 and see how easily you're able to learn in that environment.” Harry said, defending against that doubtful eye shift.

          “You are talking about a career choice, Harry. Charms will be the focus of every day for you. Do you like it enough for that?” Hermione asked, with a serious look on her face.

          If Harry knew one thing, it was that he wanted to attack life like a post-war Weasley. He wanted to be the cause of joy, of fun. He had had enough of pain, and loneliness, and grief, and darkness. Charms class was the first time he had ever made light and he'd like to see what else he could make. He nodded decisively.

          Seemingly mollified, Hermione continued- “Second question. Why this offer? You have hundreds of others that seem much more thrilling. What draws you to teaching? Apprenticeships aren't easy. Don't get me wrong, I’m thrilled at the prospect that we'll be peers, but Harry Potter in academia? Sell me on the idea.” Hermione challenged.

          “You saw me teach Dumbledore's Army, Hermione. Hell, it was your idea in the first place. Watching everyone learn something useful, knowing that I taught them that, made me feel happier than I had almost that whole year.” Harry said.

          “Yeah, right behind finally snogging Cho Chang.” Ron interjected, throwing a lone noodle at Harry which Harry returned in earnest, causing Ron to burst out with a laugh.

          Hermione took a moment to slap Ron's chest in mock anger with a sound of disgust before Ron pulled her close to plant a kiss on her forehead. Wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, she turned back to Harry and said “Ok, well reasoned. Finally, let me ask you a very fair question. Do you even speak French?” Hermione asked with a smug smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

          Oh. Harry hadn't thought of that. Surely Madame Maxime would have though, if she offered him the position, right? He voiced that much to his friends.

          “While I'm sure there are workarounds, French has been the only language used at Beauxbatons since its inception. The prospective students from neighboring countries grow up learning it just to be able to survive once they get to school. If you're serious about this, you should write a reply to Maxime to figure out the logistics. I have to say, I'm a little jealous. I've always wanted to see what the other magical schools look like. Hogwarts is great, but there is a whole world of magic out there and you get to explore it now.” Hermione said.

          Feeling proud that he had successfully defended his case, one look back at Hermione's face that held an expression of victory made him realize that he had fallen right into her trap. She had found the one earworm of an offer that Harry couldn’t shake off and baited Harry to talk himself into it. She always did know how to read him like a book.

          So with nothing left to lose, Harry replied. After a month of correspondence where Maxime assured him that the logistics had all been prepared before she had even sent the initial letter, Harry received his official Charms Apprenticeship Welcome Packet with a primer for French Magical culture. Included in the package was another letter from Maxime strongly recommending that he get a new wand as well. She reasons that his current wand is a warrior's wand, not an academic’s. She assured him that while he didn't need to rid himself of his Holly and Phoenix feather wand, a new wand for the person he is now and the different future he has ahead of him would serve him well. Her post script included the address for the premier wandmaker in France, Cosme Acajor, in Place Cachée and that a guide would be to receive him.

                                                            ---

          Incidentally, the primer of French Magical culture left out how to actually access Place Cachée. He knew it was a bronze statue of a woman on a pedestal in Montmartre but that was as much as the primer explained. It had a picture of the statue but that was the most he had to go off of. Stepping out of the alley, he was suddenly overcome with the thought that he had made a mistake as his eyes fell onto a street sign. What was he doing? He couldn't speak French, he didn't know how to teach children, and now he is lost in the middle of one of the largest cities in Europe. His instinct was to run right to the French Ministry of Magic to arrange a portkey back home, but he'd have to find the goddamn entrance to Place Cachée to actually do that.

          Tamping down the panic rising in him, he set off looking for the bronze statue. He thought idly to himself that this guide that was supposed to meet him was either late, stupid, or stood him up. Probably some posh Frenchman who thought it beneath himself to traipse around Paris with a Brit who can't even speak the language. The list of complaints he'd present to Maxime upon his arrival was growing quicker with each passing minute.

          After about an hour of directionless wandering, he finally spotted the bronze woman out of the corner of his eye down a staircase to his right. Squaring his shoulders, he took the first step down when he heard “Harry!” yelled out.

          His eyes snapped to a young blonde woman standing off to the side of the statue. She was wearing high waisted black denim shorts, a graphic tee with what Harry assumed was a French band, black combat boots, and a tight fitting leather jacket. She quickly stomped out the cigarette she had been smoking and rushed up the stairs to him.

          “Wait….I think I know you?” Harry said. Pushing her sunglasses on top of her head with a chuckle and proceeding to kiss both of his cheeks, the girl responded

          “Well I'd hope you would, considering you saved me from the bottom of that wretched lake years ago. Who in their right minds holds an underwater task in February in the Scottish Highlands?”

          “Gabrielle, isn't it?” Harry asked, suddenly flustered for some reason.

          “My my, considering my sister is practically your sister-in-law, I'm a little hurt you had struggled to remember” she said, feigning hurt before cracking a shit-eating grin “By the way, what kept you? I've been waiting here for over an hour”

          “Well Madame Maxime’s letter seemed to be a little short on geographical directions once I had Ported in. You have to remember that I've never left Britain and I can't even read a street sign here.” Harry explained, trying to bury his embarrassment at his newly discovered naivety.

          “Ah yes, Madame Maxime had warned me about the language barrier. You're in for an interesting few years here if you can't speak French.” she said with a chuckle. “Follow me and we'll get you sorted out.” She turned and waltzed down the stairs to stand in front of the bronze lady. Taking a quick look to both sides and behind her to check for Muggles, she grabbed Harry's hand and tapped the statue's skirt with her wand twice. The bronze lady opened her eyes, reached down, and lazily swept the skirt that draped to the ground aside and Gabrille Delacour proceeded to pull Harry into his first International wizarding society. Merlin, he hoped no one recognized him here.

Chapter Text

          Place Cachée was surprisingly devoid of people considering it was a Sunday in August. Surely there should be families with young children getting all of their school supplies and others getting what the need for the week, Harry thought. 

          Harry took a moment to look around at all of the shops and buildings surrounding him. He had expected a small thoroughfare like Diagon Alley, with everyone cramped together, everyone pushing through the throngs of people and the cacophony overstimulating the masses. Place Cachée was…..open, and airy. The buildings were tall and wide with little balconies jutting out from apartments above the storefronts. What few shoppers there were at this time of day were peacefully walking about without the worry of anyone stepping on their toes or bumping them over. Multi-colored shops lined the street level and cute cafés with sidewalk patios were interspersed throughout. Place Cachée seemed to be more of a walkable town square than an alley. Harry suddenly felt very vulnerable as every Wizarding space he'd been in was cramped - squeezed into tiny places to make sure the Muggles wouldn't notice. The hair stuck up on the nape of his neck and he had to stop his hands from shaking. 

          “Welcome to the real Paris, Harry” Gabrielle grinned. “OH before I forget, you'll want to take this.”

          She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a vial with a royal blue potion swirling inside it. Harry took it and examined it closely. Potion identification was never his strong suit but it didn't look like any poison he'd seen before.

          Gabrielle scoffed and said “Oh don't be like that. Our Potions Master, Madame Leroux, has never had any connections to Dark factions. Besides, she's my favorite professor.” She said with a wink.

          “That’s not what I was thinking.” Harry replied, a little too quickly. Gabrielle leveled him with a look but decided to let it go.

          “Just drink it, Golden Boy. It will let you speak and understand French. Not many of us are fluent in English, you’ll find. This shopping trip will go a lot smoother if I don't have to translate everything for you.”

          Deciding to trust Gabrielle, he downed the contents of the vial in two big gulps. It was a viscous potion that tasted earthy and made the inside of his mouth too wet. He felt his head get warm, as if the wires in his brain were getting reconfigured and overheating. The feeling passed soon and Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Gabrielle. 

          “So, how do I sound? Convincing enough?” He asked, the words in his mouth feeling both foreign and natural at the same time. 

          Gabrielle paused for a second and cracked a small smile. “You seem to have Madame Leroux's accent, which is odd. I’ve never seen this potion in practice. I'm just happy I don't have to speak English anymore. No offense, but it just sounds so silly.” She said, tossing back her ponytail. 

          “Were you told how long this potion lasts?” Harry asked. 

          “One week so I’ve been told. It's a powerful little potion, the ingredients must cost a fortune.”

          Gabrielle, looking at her watch, made a small high pitched noise and said “We are expected to arrive at Beauxbatons in 4 hours so we need to start shopping now if we want to be on time. What is on your list? You didn't seem to bring much with you.” She said, looking at Harry's backpack and duffel bag with a doubtful look. 

          “There's more to these bags than you might think-” Harry responded with a singular raised eyebrow. He set his duffel bag down on the sidewalk and reached into the side pocket to fish out Maxime's latest letter. “-but Madame Maxime urged me to purchase a new wand for my apprenticeship, a set of bed linens for a double bed, a set of dress robes, a winter cloak, 3 sets of apprentice robes in the colors of my choosing, and a list of advanced Charms texts.” Harry read aloud. 

          “Hermione already gave me more notebooks and parchment then I'll need in a lifetime and Bill gave me a set of Eagle feather quills for my birthday yesterday so I think I'm set for my stationary needs. Fleur actually gifted me a few bottles of navy blue ink as well.” Harry explained with a fondness in his voice that fought it way to the front any time he talked about his found family. 

          “I'm sorry, did you say 5 outfits?” Gabrielle exclaimed.

          “Yes?” Harry said after a particularly awkward pause.

          “Harry, we have to get started NOW. Monsieur Capenoir is notoriously slow with his clientele. We'll stop there first so he can measure you and he can work on the robes while we get your other things.” Gabrielle barked at him while walking away in a flurry towards a stark black building at the corner to their left with gold lettering that spelled Maison Capenoir, leaving Harry to grab his duffel and stumble after her.

          After getting poked and prodded by the mousy man Gabrielle was currently sweet talking into rush-ordering five different outfits in one day, they stepped back into the sunlight with Harry feeling like the frog he had to dissect in primary school. He didn't care much for clothes shopping, as it turns out. After years of wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs, he had long ago stopped caring about being in style. Gabrielle had not stopped berating him until he had relented and the shades of navy blue, black, and dark scarlet were picked for his robes. Gabrielle picked a beautiful shade of Phthalo green for his dress robes, which had reminded him of Professor McGonagall more than he'd have liked, but Gabrielle insisted. Slate gray was recommended for his winter cloak by Capenoir and he sent them off quickly before running back into his atelier, yelling at his associates to drop everything they were doing. Veela charm seems to have its perks, Harry thought. 

          Gabrielle led him to a home goods store next to Capenoir's to get his bed linens that were always cool in the warmer months and warm in the colder months. She had purchased a Monstera for him as a belated birthday gift as well with advice that a house plant in a new place always eases the transition. When Harry had tried to refuse the gift, Gabrielle glared so intensely at him that he immediately backed down like a chastised dog. He was quickly picking up on the fact that Gabrielle was not a person that was told “no” often in her life. He was just happy that that trait was being used to benefit him today, but stored that piece of information away in his mind when it would be useful interacting with her at Beauxbatons. 

          After being shooed out by the cantankerous shopwitch, Gabrielle led him down a small alley across the square to Librairie Magillard to get the books he’d need for the first term of his apprenticeship. It seemed to be a smaller shop from the outside but Gabrielle insisted that this was the better bookshop in the square compared to Plumes et Tome. The narrow foyer opened up into quite an expansive book shop, reminding him of the Waterstones that he used to go to whenever his aunt and uncle couldn’t get Mrs. Figg to watch him when they ran their errands. He wanted nothing more than to peruse the rows of wizarding novels, memoirs of French Wizarding celebrities, and the magazine racks just to get a break from the running around but Gabrielle had a plan to stick to and as he had just learned, it was easier to go along with it. 

          “Harry, let me see your list.” she demanded. 

          He handed her the light blue piece of parchment that had no less than ten different books listed. From the titles, he noticed three of them were pertaining to spell creation and one about the intricate categorization of Charms. Gabrielle was moving at a speed that Harry didn’t even catch the titles of the other six tomes. With Gabrielle moving like a whirlwind of blonde hair and the stack of high-level Charms texts growing higher in his arms, Harry started to worry. How on Earth was he going to be able to understand all of these? He figured he’d have more than a handful of Floo calls to Hermione to sort through all these while she was going through her Arithmancy apprenticeship at Hogwarts. 

          Gabrielle also took that time to pick up some of her textbooks she’d need for her 7th year courses. Harry struggled to follow after her until he remembered his wand in his pocket, took it out, and cast a quick levitation charm on his stack of books so they floated next to him. After visiting the Potions, Transfiguration, Magical Beasts, and Herbology sections, Gabrielle led him up to the checkout where a young man who looked to be in his late 20s was waiting, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but behind that desk. 

          The clerk seemed to perk up a bit when Gabrielle cleared her throat to get his attention. He slowly started to ring her up at the brass register until his eyes met Harry's and he paused. The man's eyes narrowed a little as he raked them up and down Harry's figure with a smirk of approval. Harry's levitation charm faltered a bit with the momentary lapse of concentration before he steeled himself. A heavy blush rising in his cheeks gave him away as he shuffled forward for the man to start ringing his books up as well. 

          “This is some advanced reading. So there's a brain behind that cute face, no?” said the clerk, looking down at the books then back up to Harry and holding his gaze steady. 

          “Yes yes, he's very smart. Are we done here or are you going to keep undressing him with your eyes?” Gabrielle spat. Harry was getting more uncomfortable by the second. He was used to admiration but that was always schoolgirl crushes. This was different. It felt heavier and he didn't know what that meant.

          “There's nothing wrong with looking.” the clerk responded.

          Gabrielle turned and considered Harry for a moment. “Harry, are you interested in him?” She asked. 

          “I-uhhh…..I-” he sputtered.

          “Thought not. How much?” Gabrielle shot back at the clerk.

          “34 Galleons and 2 Sickles” the clerks replied with a scowl. 

          Harry quickly got out his coin bag and counted out the money before Gabrielle had a chance to while the clerk was busy bagging up their purchases and shooting glances between Gabrielle and Harry. Harry quickly put the allotted money on the counter before grabbing both the bags and hurrying out of the shop without a glance back, Gabrielle following in his wake for a change. Harry was finding it hard to balance his backpack, duffel and two bags of books so he stopped at the end of the alley to stow his books inside his very illegally expanded duffel. Gabrielle caught up to him and beckoned for her bag and which she traded for the Monstera. 

          “Sorry about him back there. You'll find the French are not as prudish as what I'm sure you're used to.” She explained.

          “It's fine” Harry squeaked, the pitch of his voice higher than he had intended and the flush rising in his face once more. Once he had the books and the plant settled in his bag and silently thanking Molly Weasley for the expert Featherlight charm she placed on his bags yesterday, he stood up and looked at Gabrielle.

          “So, just the wand then before we pick up my robes.” He said. 

          “Oh yes! You're going to love Acajour. His family has been making wands for centuries and he has a much wider variety than Ollivander, as Fleur told me.” Gabrielle said, puffing her chest out a bit with pride. 

          She led him back across the square to a large blue and maroon facade that read the words Baguettes Magiques de Cosme Acajour, again in gold lettering. What was it with wizards and gold lettering, Harry thought to himself. Taking a moment to look at the shop's exterior, he felt the exhaustion was starting to set in now. He had been pulled every which way without stop for hours now with no signs of slowing down any time soon. He felt his stomach rumble and desperately longed for lunch. He had only eaten breakfast a couple hours ago but shopping with Gabrielle Delacour felt like a month-long Quidditch match.

          “Here, I'll take your bags and I'll wait at the cafè down there while you get outfitted, ok? We are actually a bit ahead of schedule so I'll treat you to your first real croissant after” Gabrielle said while pointing to a cafe a couple stores down. 

          Tossing her ponytail back again with a pompous laugh, she took Harry's bags  and strode away to the cafe leaving Harry to enter the shop. With the promise of coffee and pastries, he braced himself for a dark, dusty shop with an ancient wandmaker behind the till. Stepping inside, he found that all of his notions about what a wand shop was were wrong. 

          The shop was clean and bright with alabaster walls and royal blue fabric accents. He was standing in a receiving room of sorts, not unlike the waiting rooms at St Mungos, but cozier. A few upholstered chairs lined the front wall to his left and right and he stood a few paces away from a large, dark wood desk where an older, plump witch sat filling in a ledger and a hallway leading to what Harry guessed was the storage rooms behind her.

          “Bonjour, welcome to Baguettes Magiques. Here for a new wand, no?” She said, looking up from her ledger with a warm smile. 

          “Yes please, if that's alright.” Harry replied.

          “Why wouldn't it be?” she responded with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that held no malice. She rang the bell in front of her and moments later, a young, dark skinned witch appeared from the hallway behind the desk with a clipboard in hand. 

          “Welcome!” the witch exclaimed. “If you'll follow me, please” and beckoned Harry to follow her through the hallway. 

          A few paces beyond the threshold lied two offices on either side of the hallway with glass walls. She motioned for Harry to enter the office on his left and to sit in the chair in front of the desk. She followed after him, closing the door and sat behind the desk.

          “So, we are going to fill out your intake form and go over a few questions but first, my name is Louise and I'll be guiding you through your wand pairing. Its very nice to meet you. And what is your name?” she asked.

          “Harry. Harry Potter.” he replied, bracing himself for the exuberant reaction everyone had to his name.

          She quietly wrote it down and asked “Age and occupation?” without looking up from the form. 

          This was new, Harry thought. This woman was around the same age as him, surely she had heard of the war, right? Deciding not to question it since he was glad of not having to use his PR smile after the day he's had, he responded “19, starting my Charms apprenticeship at Beauxbatons in a matter of hours.”

          “OH! Monsieur Acajour told us to expect an Englishman here for that. You must be the one that Madame Maxime recruited.” she exclaimed, looking up from the clipboard. 

          “Yes, I guess that's me.” Harry said, unsure how to read her excitement. 

          “Well that's an impressive position, Mr. Potter. It's very competitive. You must be someone very special.” she said with a small smile. He decided he liked her in that moment, not adoring him because of his name but because she thought he had achieved something of his own merit. He wanted to correct her, that he didn’t have a NEWT to his name and felt wildly out of his depth, but kept silent.

          After a litany of questions about his body specifics, temperament, personal morals, and measurements of every inch of his arms below his shoulders, she led him out of the office into a large semicircular room with what looked like closets branching off around the perimeter. The walls were the same alabaster white as the entrance room and was very bright due the glass ceiling. There was a large rectangle on the ground in the middle with a table inside covered in miscellaneous items. Harry could see a vase, a stack of books, and what looked to be a miniature grandfather clock. 

          Louise held up her clipboard and tapped the form on it three times with her wand and muttered “ Jumelia”. The form then vanished and the doors to a number of closets around the perimeter started to light up with a periwinkle glow. 

          “Wait here while I collect your options, please.” She said while striding off to the leftmost door. He watched her collect sleek, triangular boxes from each of the glowing rooms until she came back to meet him in front of the odd rectangle on the ground, a stack of about 14 boxes, all different colors, floating behind her. 

          “Now I'd like you to step into the square before you to test out your wands. The square is warded so the effects of any misfires or accidents won't hurt the merchandise.” she explained.

          “What about me?” Harry asked with a healthy amount of indignation.

          “I'm sure a war hero like yourself isn't a stranger to a burn or two.” she shot back with a wink.

          “Ah, so you do know how I am then” he replied.

          “Of course I do.” Louise said with a chuckle. “Now, into the square. We've chosen wands that will fit the person that you are now and the academic you're growing into. I'll hand them to you and well, you know the rest.”

          He stepped into the rectangle and felt the telltale wave of a heavily-warded space. She handed him the first box that said Beech, Hippogriff Feather, 10.25 inches on one of the gold-grey faces. He looked back up at her with a confused face and asked “Hippogriff feather?”

          “Monsieur Potter, there is a whole world of magic outside of Mr. Ollivanders shop. He is tried and true and makes wands of excellent quality, but the possibilities are endless when it comes to wands. I'm sure you'll feel just how powerful an Acajour wand can be.” She said with a proud look on her face. 

          “Ollivander wands are powerful enough to beat a Dark Lord.” He said under his breath but decided it wasn’t worth the fight. He opened the box and pulled out the handsome, light toned wand from the cushioned interior. It felt a little too light in his hand but he gripped down on the carved wings that made the hilt, giving it a firm flick. There was a loud SNAP and the wand flew from his hand, bounced off the interior walls of the ward, and clattered to the ground, emitting a puff of eggplant purple smoke from its tip once it went still. 

          “Well, that seems to be the perfect match!” Louise said humorously. She levitated the wand back into the box in Harry's hand and Summoned it back to her. 

          “No matter, here is one of my favorites.” She said, handing him a black box with minuscule white specks covering it that read Cherry, Meteorite Dust, 12 inches.  Harry opened the box to find an sleek, red-toned wand with an elegantly carved handle. He carefully picked the wand out of the box and felt as if he didn't want to grip too hard, lest it break in his hand. He gave it a slow wave in the direction of the vase. A bouquet of beautiful flowers appeared in the vase but withered and molded within seconds. 

          Louise Summoned the wand and box back to her, placing the wand delicately back into the box while saying “Don't worry, we'll find a match for you soon. I can feel it.” Harry had to wonder if she was talking to him or the wand. 

          They tested out a number of different wands, each one baffling Harry more than the last. He had no frame of reference for some of the cores or even the woods. He wouldn't be able to tell you if he had even heard of the Baobab tree before. 

          After testing the Dogwood and fairy wing wand (enchanted the books to attack him), the Apple and ectoplasm wand (nothing happened but he could swear he heard whispers behind his left shoulder), and the English Oak and Kelpie mane wand (it felt slimy in his hand and immediately put it back), Louise handed him a hunter green box. She seemed to hand it over with some reverence and looked at Harry with a slight look of hope. He took the box from her and read Pine, Centaur Hair, 11.75 inches . He opened the box and examined the wand. It was a light brown color with intricately carved leaves up and down the hilt. He picked up the wand and felt a calm wash over him. He gave the wand a firm wave and suddenly he could smell the forest. A breeze picked up around him, fluttering the books open and blowing his hair back. 

          Louise seemed to release a breath she had been holding and said “Well that looked promising. We were worried about that one. Getting a Centaur to willingly give up a tail hair for a wizard's wand was no small feat, Acajour can assure you. We've had that wand in our inventory since before I knew that magic even existed.  How did it feel?”

          “Exhilarating,” Harry said after a moment, “like I have a second wind.” He carefully replaced the wand to the box and closed it, tightening his grip.

          “That's great! I'll put these away and Clemence can take your payment. It truly was a pleasure meeting you, Monsieur Potter.” Louise said, shaking his hand. 

          He took the triangular box up to the front where the front desk witch Clemence waited to receive him. After purchasing the wand and a small polishing kit, Harry stepped out onto the square with a renewed energy that he welcomed. He had a coffee and croissant with his name on them.

Chapter Text

          Harry savored the last bite of his croissant like he would never have one ever again. He’d had croissants before, but none of them held a candle to what he had just finished. He wondered idly what the French did that outshone the rest of the world with their pastries, but he decided that could be a mystery he’d solve later. With his stomach settled, he sat back in his chair looking around the square. Gabrielle and him were sitting in the patio section of a cafe, halfway between Baguettes Magiques and Maison Capenoir. Gabrielle sipped at her second double espresso and broke the silence with “So? Better than they make in Britain, no?” nodding towards his now empty plate.

         Not wanting to give in quite yet, Harry replied with “Meh, it was ok.” He studied Gabrielle’s face for a moment and cracked a grin when her face contorted into righteous offense. 

         When she picked up on the fact that he was joking, she scoffed and reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a silver case. She flipped it open and pulled out a cigarette, offering one to Harry. He pondered for a moment while staring at the case. He had smoked before, when he, Ron, and Hermione were on the run and was staring death in the face every day. He figured 'Why not?’ and took one from the case. He snapped his fingers and both of their cigarettes lit. 

         “Interesting. I didn't think of you to be the type. I was just being polite.” Gabrielle said. 

         “Hermione didn't like it when I smoked but I've been known to enjoy a couple here and there. There's a lot that most people don't know about me.” He didn't say aloud that there was also a lot he didn't know about himself. That was part of the reason he took this position. He wanted to find out who he was without Voldemort and he couldn't do that in a country where his face reminded everyone of war. So, new experiences, new habits, and new things to focus on were his priorities now.

         “So, anything you'd like to know about Beauxbatons before we head to Rêvemont?” Gabrielle asked, taking a long drag.  

         “Yeah, what's Révemont?” Harry laughed out the question. 

         “It is the Wizarding village near the academy. Similar to Hogsmeade, but cleaner.” she sniggered. “Although I have to admit, Hogsmeade did have a certain charm to it. I snuck out of the carriage one day with a few of Fleur's friends when she was practicing for the first task with Madame Maxime. I had something called an Ice Mouse from that store, Dukes of Honey. That was one of my favorite days of the whole trip.”

         Deciding not to correct her about the names because he found the way she said them charming, he replied “Yeah Hogsmeade is great for a quick getaway. Are Beauxbatons students permitted to visit Révemont?” 

         “Yes, once they are in 5th year. You typically won't see any 5th year students on the estate during the weekends for the first months of term. After four years of listening to the older students’ stories, they practically race there every Saturday morning when term starts. Unless there's a Quidditch game, of course”

         “Quidditch? There's Quidditch there? How are the teams split up?” Harry asked, flicking the ash off his cigarette and finishing the last bit of his cafe au lait. 

         “By house, of course.” She answered, looking at him like she was trying to hold back from asking if he'd been dropped on his head as a child. “Harry, Beauxbatons is one of the premier Wizarding schools in the whole world. Did you seriously do no preliminary reading about it before Porting all the way here?” 

         “I've…..been busy. I figured the welcome packet and the primer would've explained everything necessary and whatever it left out, I'd just ask.” He replied, determined not to look at her as he took a drag of the cigarette. 

         “Who are you apprenticing under?” Gabrielle asked. 

         “Monsieur Bernier. Apparently, he jumped at the chance when Maxime offered the mentorship to the Charms faculty. I’m supposed to have my first meeting with him after breakfast tomorrow. Why do you ask?” Harry replied.

         “Word of advice, Harry. Do your reading before Bernier tells you to. Showing up prepared is one of the only ways to impress him. That, or a good bottle of wine.” She said. Harry passively wondered if there was a vintner is Rêvemont. 

          After finishing up their lunch, they made one final stop at Maison Capenoir to pick up Harry's robes and cloak. They were of such fine quality that he didn't even really want to touch them at all. He decided to keep them all in their boxes rather than insisting on one final fitting. Leaving the shop, his coin bag significantly lighter, Gabrielle led him down a street to their left where they came to a small intersection with a tall, square structure in the middle. Once they stepped closer, Harry saw that it was a wide pillar with a fireplace on each side. A sign on the top read Place Cachée and a bright, green flame erupted from the fireplace opposite them as a large wizard strode out of it, paying no mind to Harry and Gabrielle as he passed. 

         “This is the Metrofloo.” Gabrielle explained, walking up what looked to Harry like a Muggle candy dispenser. She put four Sickles into the slot, turned the knob, and two small canvas bags popped out. “Here is your Floo powder. You shouldn't have a problem since you took that translation potion today but pay attention to your pronunciation of Rêvemont. The Metrofloo is notoriously picky.” she explained. 

         Gabrielle stepped into the Floo and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Harry took a second to take stock of his belongings, mentally checking off everything he had brought with him and everything he had purchased today. He took his bag of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, said aloud “Rêvemont”, threw down the powder, and plummeted down - swirling into green nothingness. 

         Harry stepped out of the fireplace in Revemont and was greeted with a humid breeze that immediately started to make his hair curl at the ends. He quickly stepped out of the way of anyone that might be coming through behind him and surveyed his surroundings. Rêvemont was a very charming village and distinctly Wizarding. It sat at the base of a mountain with the mountain path turning into the main street of the village, of which he was standing in the center of now. He had expected a typical, provincial French village that he had read about. Plain stone buildings with dark roofs and houses no more than 2 stories high. What he was met with was a beautiful swath of pastel colored buildings, shops with wooden signs hanging above the doors, and an aroma of peppermint and chocolate permeating the air. Gabrielle walked up to him and said “Welcome to Rêvemont. The charm dims after a while so soak it in while you can. Anything else you need before we head up to the school? I was instructed to get you there by 4.” 

         “And what time is it now?” Harry asked.

         “3:30, its about a 15 carriage ride to the school.” Gabrielle advised. 

         “What type of wine does Monsieur Bernier like best?” he inquired, shooting a sidelong glance at Gabrielle who volleyed back a rather unimpressed look.

         10 minutes later and 2 bottles of wine heavier, they sat in a carriage pulled by 2 sleek, white horses on the path up the mountainside to the school. He had collected a bright ‘83 Champagne for Madame Maxime and an expensive ‘61 Bordeaux for Monsieur Bernier. On the ride to the school, Gabrielle recommended that he present the wine at the first greeting instead of dinner, as to not make the other faculty and staff feel excluded. 

         The carriage slowed to a stop and Gabrielle leapt out with Harry awkwardly climbing out due to his hands being full of good-quality wine. She quickly stowed the items from her jacket pocket into her handbag and pulled out her wand, tracing it from her collarbones to the hem of her shorts. Harry saw her clothes transfigure from her punk-ish ensemble to a modest blue sundress. She twirled the end of her wand towards her feet and her combat boots turned into sensible flats. After casting what Harry caught as a Notice-Me-Not Charm on her nose ring, she turned and faced Harry with her arms out to her side, silently asking how she looked.

         Harry raised his eyebrows and remarked “So I assume they're not a fan of rampant self-expression, then.” 

         Gabrielle looked pained as she said “I know I shouldn't care, but appearances matter when meeting with your superiors. At least that's what Maman always says.”

         “So you don't look like a Weird Sisters groupie during your weekends here?” Harry poked good-naturedly. 

         “I have a nice blend of this and that in my downtime. I'm aiming for a Potions apprenticeship after this year. I can't shock the faculty and have them thinking I don't care, although Madame Leroux seems to like my more rebellious side.” Gabrielle explained and turned towards the gates. 

         Behind wrought-iron gates laid a large French Renaissance garden with white pebble pathways and precisely manicured hedges. A voluminous fountain stood in the center, spouting crystal blue water into the pool below. Surrounding the 3 sides of the garden and spanning back was the palace of Beauxbatons. The French Baroque facade of the building housed to Harry what seemed like a thousand windows and he felt on display, even though he consciously knew that the palace was mostly empty in the summer. The gilded ornamentation gave the estate a regal air that Harry was unaccustomed to. Gabrielle led him through the gardens until she reached the large double doors that sat atop a number of steps. She opened one of the doors and gestured for Harry to enter before her. 

         He stepped into a large entrance hall that was wider than it was deep. There were doors at the ends of the hall to his left and right and even more scattered throughout leading to closets or annexes, Harry presumed. The hall was bright and the walls were crowded with paintings and a handful of statues standing at measured intervals around the hall. A short staircase started its ascension in the middle of the floor leading to another pair of impressive double doors and a door on either side of the staircase at the main level. 

         Standing in front of the staircase stood the imposing figure of Madame Maxime. Dressed in summer robes made from satin and chiffon in a deep purple, she looked how Harry imagined the fancy wives of MPs would welcome her husband's colleagues into their home for a dinner party. Next to her was a tall man of about 40 with broad shoulders and a tightly groomed golden-brown beard. He had elected to wear a pair of smart trousers with a button-up shirt, a tie, and a checkered vest of emerald and black.

         Harry put on his air of fake confidence and strode toward the pair, Gabrielle following close behind. When they stopped, Gabrille took the wine bottles out of Harry's hand as Madame Maxime reached a hand out to Harry. 

         “Welcome, Monsieur Potter. We are very pleased to have you join us here at Beauxbatons. It's nice to see you again. I trust your journey here was smooth” she said while crushing his hand. Since Harry was practiced at being on the receiving end of Hagrid's hugs and handshakes, he didn't even flinch at the pain. “I'd like to introduce you to Anton Bernier. He will be your mentor for the next two years.” 

         The rugged man next to Maxime stuck his hand out to Harry and said “Pleased to meet you. I look forward to working together.” with a large smile. He had a mischievous glint in his eye that reminded Harry of Sirius so pointedly that he felt his chest tighten and his eyes started to water. 

         “Pleased to meet you as well,” he said to Bernier and turned to Maxime “and thank you for inviting me. I'm honored to be here. This is a beautiful place.” Harry looked around the room and studied the decor, but quickly after turned to Gabrielle and grabbed the bottles of wine. 

         “For you, Madame Maxime, as a ‘thank you’ for the opportunity. And for you Monsieur Bernier, for agreeing to mentor me.” Harry said, presenting the bottles of wine in turn and forcing his hands not to shake. Apparently, he took Gabrielle's Maman's advice about first impressions to heart quite quickly. 

         After words of thanks and more pleasantries, Maxime turned towards Gabrielle and said “Ms. Delacour, thank you for guiding Monsieur Potter here. Is there anything you need before returning home?”

         “No, but thank you for offering. I really should be off.” Gabrielle replied. She turned to Harry and said “It was great seeing you again. I hope you will love it here as much as I do. See you soon!” She turned and walked away, pulled the large front door close behind her. 

         Harry took a big breath and let it out slowly. He was alone now. He didn't realize how quickly Gabrielle would leave and now he was expected to be alone with both of his…bosses? Professors? He didn't quite know where he stood in the hierarchy here yet. All he knew is that he had to act like an adult right now and felt as if he was coming up empty. 

         “I trust Ms. Delacour behaved herself on you excursion, Mr. Potter? She's a brilliant witch but has a bit of a wild streak. I will admit though, the Transfiguration work on the clothes she was wearing were brilliant, wouldn't you agree Anton?” Maxime asked. Harry could tell that Madame Maxime is someone who can see through anyone, no matter the tricks they try to pull. 

         “Ms. Delacour has always performed extraordinary magic, but her choice to want to appear more mature to authority now is what vexes me. I wish she’d show us more of who she is, instead of who she thinks we'll approve of. She's a good kid at heart, really.” Anton replied. 

         “Oh, but you must be exhausted. Let me show you to your rooms.” Maxime said, turning to Harry. Bernier nodded to both of them and left with “I will see you both at dinner soon. Thank you again for the wine, Monsieur Potter.” 

         Maxime led him to the door at the end of the left side of the hall. Stepping through the door, Harry saw a small stone courtyard lined with benches and two trees in opposite corners. The sun shifted through the day and was casting a large shadow over the courtyard with bright spots of sun warming the sand-colored stone. Maxime led him through the courtyard into the hallway opposite the entrance and emerged into what looked to Harry to be a miniature market. They were standing in the center of a hallway intersection with a rounded corner stall built into each corner. 

         “These stalls are where students can purchase basic school supplies, withdraw money from their accounts, or get some food in a hurry.” Maxime explained, gesturing to the respective stalls.

         “If we continue forward, you will enter the Dormitory Plaza where all of the students reside. You will also find the cafeteria where both breakfast and lunch are served. Dinner is typically served in the great hall up the stairs in the Entrance hall but tonight we will be dining in the staff lounge. Your rooms are this way.” She said, walking down the hall to her right. After a handful of turns throughout the building, Harry was completely lost. He felt like the 11-year-old Harry on his first night at Hogwarts, trying to map out the route from the dining hall to the Gryffindor common room after the Welcome Feast. They finally stopped in front of a solid, oak door at the dead end of a secluded hallway and she turned back to him. 

         “Here are your rooms, Monsieur Potter. Please rest, you look tired.” she said, making Harry wonder just how haggard he looked after being dragged across two countries today. “Dinner is in two hours and we will send someone to bring you to the staff lounge. I will see you soon. And again, welcome to Beauxbatons. I do hope this place becomes a home to you soon.” Maxime said sincerely. She turned and strode off while Harry opened the door to his rooms. 

         He stepped into what seemed like a simple living room. There was a fireplace to his left with a mustard yellow couch and two matching armchairs opposite. At the opposite wall from the door stood a door bordered with built-in bookshelves. Stepping through the further door, he entered a modest bedroom with a double bed on the back wall with a nightstand and a window looking over the valley below the palace. Off to the left was an adjoining bathroom and he even had his own claw-foot tub. He set his bags down on the floor, took out his Holly wand and Summoned his new bedsheets from inside the duffel. He quickly flicked his wanted casting a nonverbal bed-making charm, collapsed on top of the covers, and promptly fell asleep. 

         He woke up sometime later and stretched out, cracking his joints and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A glance at his watch told him he had about 15 minutes before someone would come take him to dinner. He quickly showered and dressed in his new navy blue apprentice robes. They fit him perfectly and the high-quality fabric felt soothing on his skin. When he was in the middle of a fight with his hair, he heard a knock at the door. Striding over to it, Harry opened it.

         “Hi Harry, its been a while.”

         Harry's eyes widened and he instinctively slammed the door closed. He turned around and quickly leaned back on the door, trying to catch his breath. What the fuck was Cedric Diggory doing at his door?

Chapter Text

          Rapidly flattening his unruly hair and gathering his Gryffindor courage, Harry turned and opened the door once more. “Cedric! Sorry about the door slamming thing, you just caught me by surprise. What are you even doing here?” Harry said, noticing that he had slipped back into English. That potion he took really was strange. 

         “I'm picking you up for dinner.” Cedric said with a cheeky smile. “Maxime did tell you that someone would come to collect you, right?”

         “Yeah, she did. But I meant what are you doing here? At Beauxbatons.” Harry clarified. 

         “I could ask you the same question, Harry.” Cedric replied, raising a single eyebrow in slight defiance. Cedric's eyes slowly made their way down Harry's body and back up to meet his eyes. “Why are you dressed in your apprentice robes? That's a bit unorthodox.”

         “Oh, I…errmm. I didn't realize it would be odd. Why don't you come in while I change.” Harry said with a flush of embarrassment rising on his face. He turned and quickly walked towards his bedroom door, leaving the front door open for Cedric to enter. 

         Harry quickly shut his bedroom door and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He hadn't seen Cedric since the battle. Harry knew he'd been there. As a junior member of the Order, Cedric had snuck into the castle and helped guard the Hufflepuff common room that held the younger students from a particularly nasty onslaught of Death Eaters and Snatchers. He was part of the Hogwarts reconstruction effort too and always helped students who were going through a particularly awful spell of grief or making sure the older volunteers took breaks. Harry had admired the way at which Cedric always showed up for the people around him, even if he didn't know who they were. 

         Cedric's behavior didn't help squash the confusing feelings Harry had toward him back in school, but Harry had forced those feelings out during those last few years of the war and he hadn't thought about Cedric since he'd last seen him the summer after the battle. Cedric Diggory showing up at his door all the way here in the Pyrenees was like dunking him in a barrel of ice water and the shock wasn't fading away in the safety of his bedroom. 

         Pushing through the momentary stupor, Harry took out his Holly wand and cast a flurry of unpacking spells. His clothes erupted out of his duffel bag next to his bed, the drawers of his dresser shooting open to accept clothes that folded themselves neatly mid-air and his nicer clothes and robes flew to the hangers living in the small closet in the corner. Harry elected for nice khaki pants and a wine red button-up for dinner as that was the type of dress that Cedric was sporting just outside his door. 

         Doing a once-over in the floor length mirror on the bathroom door, Harry steeled his nerves and walked back into the living room. Cedric was draped on the couch, one arm outstretched on the back and his ankle resting on top of his other knee. He looked perfectly at home in Harry's quarters, which only made Harry tense up even more. 

         “Much better, Harry.” Cedric said, giving Harry an approving smile. Looking down at his watch, he said “Well if we don't leave now, we'll be late. Can't have you being tardy on your first day.” 

         “Yeah, wouldn't want that.” Harry replied, more mouse-ish than he would've liked. Everyone seemed to be leading him around today and talking about time. He'd found it annoying earlier but for some reason, he found he didn't mind when Cedric was leading. He'd examine that feeling later.

         Cedric stood and exited Harry's living quarters leaving Harry to hurry behind him. After casting a quick Colloportus on his door, he caught up and matched Cedric's stride as he led him through the palace. 

         “You never answered my question.” Harry said, breaking the silence. 

         “As to what I'm doing at Beauxbatons?” Cedric replied. After Harry gave an affirmative nod, Cedric explained “I'm starting my Transfiguration apprenticeship. After the war, I helped as much as I could but I needed to grow up at some point. I got a job in my father's department in the Ministry but it was dead boring. I decided I wanted something new. Something completely unexpected and, more importantly, something very far away from my father. So, I applied here. Madame Maxime said she was very impressed with my Transfiguration work against that blasted dragon in the first task. Fleur put in a good word for me and next thing I knew, I'm Porting to Paris on my way here.” Cedric explained. Harry had noticed the proverbial shadow cross his face when speaking about his father. Harry desperately wanted to probe, but thought better of it. Cedric continued “What about you? I would have thought you'd be an Auror by now and married to Ginny with a little one on the way.”

         “Oh. Yeah, no, definitely not. Don't get me wrong, Ginny is lovely, but after the war we realized that we loved each other more as honorary siblings than anything else. She's dating Blaise Zabini now, if you can believe it. Kingsley offered me a spot in the Auror Corps, but I've done enough fighting. Ron is a junior Auror though and making quite a name for himself.” Harry found himself beaming about his best friend. Ron was a right prat sometimes, but he was a good person and deserved the world. Harry would've only stood in Ron's way if he'd joined the Auror Corps too. “To be honest, out of the thousand offers for positions I received, this is the one that intrigued me the most. I truly don't know what Madame Maxime was thinking when she sent me that owl but I'm happy she did. I chose to apprentice in Charms. I want to love magic again and this was the offer that promised the most efficient route that didn't involve me being ‘The’ Harry Potter anymore.” Harry finished with an exasperated sigh. 

         Cedric hummed in understanding and knocked his shoulder into Harrys. That was the thing about Cedric that irked Harry. He always seemed to, if not understand Harry's lived experience, understand the weight he carried and how exhausting it became. ‘Probably some Hufflepuff superpower of empathy’ Harry thought to himself, knocking his shoulder back into Cedrics. They were grown now, shoulders almost matching in height; a stark difference from their statures during the tournament. 

         Cedric had led them back through the marketplace and courtyard that Maxime had taken Harry through hours before. Repeating the path with Cedric, he felt confident that he'd at least be able to get back to his rooms from the Entrance Hall. Cedric continued through the Entrance Hall to the opposite door on the right side of the hall and pushed through it, holding the door open for Harry. He stepped through the threshold and realized he was in a very similar courtyard to the one they'd just walked through. Harry's nerves eased as he realized the symmetry. He'd get his bearings straight a lot quicker if the rest of the palace was as symmetrical. 

         Harry's hopes were dashed as they reached the other end of the courtyard. Instead of a glass-ceilinged marketplace like the other, this one led to a lobby of sorts. Three doors stood on his right and ahead of him was a marble staircase that led up to a landing with stairs continuing up past where Harry could see. 

         “How long have you even been here?” Harry asked Cedric. “You seem to know your way around.”

         “I only arrived two days ago. My mentor, Madame Parquette, is in Singapore finishing up field research on Aquatic Animagi so I've had time to explore. She's due to arrive a week before term starts.” Cedric explained. 

         He led Harry to the middle of the three doors on the right and walked through, holding it open for him. Harry entered into a large, but cozy room with vaulted ceilings and dark, stained wood accents. A big oval table stood in front of him with most of the chairs occupied by what Harry assumed were the faculty and other apprentices all engrossed in their many little conversations. The room extended out to the right with the annex holding a fireplace, a large sofa, and a collection of armchairs. A large bar cart was placed at the far right wall of the annex and adorned with liquors and spirits Harry couldn't recognize and a cellar door was built into the ground next to it. 

         Madame Maxime sat at the opposite end of the oval table from the door speaking to an older witch with a crisp, white bob and stood up when she noticed Harry and Cedric enter and strode over to the pair. 

         “Ahh, Monsieur Potter and Monsieur Diggory. Thank you for joining us. Please sit, dinner is about to be served.” she said, gesturing towards the two seats nearest the door. 

         As she walked back to her seat, Cedric and Harry both sat down at the chairs in front of them. Harry bristled, his fists clenching of their own accord, as he clocked the fact that he was sitting with his back to the entrance of the room, open to attack. The anxiety must have shown on his face as in the next moment, Cedric leaned over and spoke to Harry in a low voice, “It's ok, Potter. Did you not feel the wards on this school? They're twice as strong as Hogwarts.” and gave Harry a reassuring smile. 

         “Forgive me for not feeling completely safe in a school of magic. Almost every Defence teacher we had growing up tried to kill me, if you recall.” Harry shot back with more heat than he'd intended. Cedric looked taken aback and was just starting to retreat into himself when Harry sighed and said “I'm sorry, Cedric. I've had a long day and sitting in a room of strangers in a brand new country is not my idea of relaxing.” 

         “But it's not full of strangers. I'm here.” Cedric replied with a soft smile. “Trust me, I was so relieved when I discovered you'd be apprenticing with me, and even more so when I found out we were neighbors.”

         “We're what?” Harry asked, somewhat dumbly. 

         “Well, yeah. I'm only a couple doors down from you. It's not called the Apprentice Wing for nothing.” Cedric laughed. 

         It was during Cedric's laugh that they saw Maxime rise from her seat again, tapping on her glass until the conversations around the room fell into silence. 

         “Thank you all for coming. I know that this is a routine dinner for most of you but I'd like to take a moment to introduce our newest apprentice, Harry Potter. I'm sure he needs no introduction to most of you but please humor me. Like Monsieur Diggory, he comes to us from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Messieurs Potter and Diggory competed against Fleur Delacour a few years ago and tied for the Triwizard cup when Harry was only a boy. Most notably though, he was responsible for the downfall of Lord Voldemort just last May.” Harry's face was on fire. He heard a portly wizard on his left scoff and say ‘Lord Voldemort. Such a ridiculous name.’ Harry couldn’t help agreeing, but he wished Maxime could point attention to literally anyone else in the room. She continued -”He will be apprenticing under Anton Bernier in Charms and I'm sure we all are looking forward to seeing what he can accomplish. Now enough of me, I believe it's Camille Leroux's turn to pair the wine this evening.” 

         She clapped her hands once and plates with settings appeared before them. The largest bowl of bread that Harry had ever seen materialized in the center of the table surrounded by various pots of steaming food with serving spoons sticking out at odd angles. The empty glasses at their places filled themselves with water. It looked blue if Harry held his head at the right angle and reminded him of the fountain in the front courtyard. The conversations around the table soon started up again so Harry had time to survey the table and its inhabitants without the awkward silence.

         The woman with the short, white bob sitting on the left of Maxime, who Maxime had just identified as the Potions Master Camille Leroux, stood up and surveyed the food that had appeared on the table. She was tall and lean with wide hips, wearing a white satin halter top and high-waisted black sailor pants. As she smelled one of the pots, no doubt identifying the dish, Harry thought she might be the most elegant woman he'd ever seen. She moved with a sharp grace that matched well with her stern expression. After a few more moments analyzing the dinner, she stalked off to the cellar door next to the bar cart, opened it, and descended down - the sharp clack of her stiletto heels getting more muffled with every step. She soon emerged from the cellar with four bottles of deep red floating behind her. With a flick of her wand, the bottles flew to evenly spaced places around the table and uncorked themselves. 

         “Its a ‘95 Tuscan Sangiovese. Let them breathe before you start guzzling it, you dogs. I won't have my perfect streak of pairing be ruined by your gluttony" she teased the group. Harry looked around and, noticing the looks of warmth and mirth around the faculties faces at her proclamation, he understood that the Potions Master's bark was a lot worse than her bite and he eased a little.  

         “So Monsieur Potter, how are you finding Beauxbatons so far?” said the portly man on his left. He was balding,  heavily mustached, and seemed a little too gruff when compared to the refinement that infused itself into even the walls here. 

         “It's brilliant,” Harry responded. “I don't think I've ever been to a fancier place in my life.”

         “Ahh you get used to it after a while. Don't let it get to you. I grew up in the gutters of Brussels and even I fit in now. Elmar De Witte. Music.” He introduced himself. Elmar took the opportunity to pour himself a hearty glass of the Sangiovese wine and then filled Harry's glass too. 

         “Music? We didn't really have a music program at Hogwarts. Just the school choir.” Harry replied.

         “Yes. I'm well aware. Hogwarts, while suffering great tragedies lately so I'll cut the current administration some slack, has never valued arts education in the centuries we've been friendly rivals. We have a robust arts program here, its compulsory until Year 6 for all students, just like the core subjects.” Elmar explained. 

         A tall, thin wizard on Elmar's other side took that moment to ask him a question so Harry took to serving himself some food from the steaming pots. While spooning some Beef Bourguignon into his bowl and taking some slices of bread, he made eye contact with Bernier from across the table. The man lifted his wine glass slightly and winked at Harry in acknowledgement. Returning a small smile to him, Harry sat back down to start digging into his food. 

         Dinner lasted until every pot was empty, the last slice of bread was eaten, and the wine bottles were polished off. The bottles seemed to have multiplied throughout dinner as there were definitely more than four empty ones on the table now. The assembled group here seemed to truly enjoy each others company. Harry had wondered if the Hogwarts faculty ever laughed with each other this much behind closed doors. Snape being present probably made that a Herculean task. He'll always be grateful to the man who saved his life, but he didn't have to like the abusive wanker. 

         When the time felt right and half of the other teachers and apprentices were gone, Harry stood up and excused himself. He was already halfway across the small lobby outside the lounge when Cedric caught up to him. 

         “Going back already? I'll walk with you, if you don't mind.” Cedric said. 

         “Not at all.” Harry said. He looked over at Cedric's face. It was red and splotchy from wine and laughter and Cedric looked forward as the walked with a calm, confident air. Harry felt a wringing in the pit of his stomach and stumbled a bit.

         “Woah there, Harry. How many glasses did you have?” Cedric chuckled while grasping Harry's arm so he wouldn't face plant the courtyard they were walking across. 

         “I only had two, don't get your knickers in a twist.” Harry laughed. 

         “Alright, alright, I concede.” Cedric said. He was still holding onto Harry's forearm and every ridge of his fingerprints on Harry's skin seemed to buzz with electricity. Cedric removed his hand from Harry's arm to open the door to the Entrance Hall for him and Harry missed the warmth. 

         “By the way Cedric, you never told me you were fluent in French. Did they give you the potion too?” Harry asked, remembering the rapid French he'd heard flowing from Cedric's lips to the petite witch on Cedric's other side at dinner. 

         “What potion?” Cedric asked in response, looking utterly confused at what Harry was talking about. 

         “Oh erm, nevermind.” Harry said quickly. 

         “Oh no you don't, Harry. What potion?” Cedric pressed as they entered the marketplace intersection. He pulled on Harry's shoulder and they both stopped walking.

         “I….I can't speak French. I only know a handful of words, really. I got a potion that makes me fluent but Gabrielle Delacour said it'll wear off in a week. Supposedly, it's Madame Leroux's invention.” Harry explained, questioning why he was nervous explaining all this to Cedric. Plenty of Brits were monolingual. It was nothing to be ashamed about, was it? Harry started walking away from Cedric, down the hall to the right and starting his freshly memorized route to his rooms.

         “Harry. Are you…embarrassed?” Cedric asked, jogging a little to catch up. Harry's face went even a darker shade of red. “Seriously? The Star Seeker at Hogwarts, Tri-Wizard Champion, the Boy who Lived, and Savior of Wizarding Britain is embarrassed he's not bilingual on top of it all?” Cedric was finding this to be all too entertaining.

         “Co-champion” Harry muttered under his breath.

         “What was that?” Cedric asked. 

         “Co-champion. We won that tournament together.” Harry said. 

         “Oh, I know. I snuck that in because I wanted to hear you say it.” Cedric winked as they turned the corner into the Apprentice Wing. Cedric paused when they were about two doors away from Harry's at the end. 

         “Did you want a nightcap?” Cedric offered nonchalantly, nodding at his own door. “I brought a bottle of Ogden's Special Select that's itching to be opened.”

         Harry……shouldn't do this. He didn't understand what he was feeling towards Cedric and adding more alcohol to the equation was certain to end poorly for him. 

         “No, I'm good, thanks. Will I see you tomorrow for breakfast?” Harry asked. 

         “Yeah, just come get me and we'll go together.” Cedric replied with a beaming smile. 

         “Alright then, ‘night Diggory.” Harry said over his shoulder as he took out his wand and unlocked his door. 

         “Goodnight Potter.” Cedric replied with a chuckle. 

         Taking stock of his day while laying in bed a few short minutes later, Harry smiled. He'd been dragged across the country, was poked and prodded, spent half of the money he'd brought already, and was now about to sleep in an unfamiliar place which never bodes well for a restful night. But his friend is here, sleeping just two doors down. He had worried about how all of this would go, but he wasn't going to be doing this alone and with that thought, he drifted soundly into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

          Harry woke up early the next morning by bolting upright in a cold sweat, ripped from depths of a nightmare of a graveyard, flashes of green light, and Cedric’s corpse lying next to him with no light behind his eyes. Harry rubbed the vestiges of sleep from his eyes and swung his feet over the side of the bed to place them on the warm stone floor. ‘It was just a dream. Cedric survived the graveyard and is living just two doors away from you now. He's safe.’ Harry told himself sternly. After rinsing off the sweat from his body from his stressful night in a quick shower, he dressed himself in a nice pair of jeans, a white button up and a black vest. Feeling he looked rather dashing in the mirror, he turned back to his duffel bag. He removed the Monstera that Gabrielle gifted him and placed it on the windowsill. After casting an Aguamenti Aera to create a miniature rain cloud on it to keep it hydrated, he took out the triangular green box from his bag that held his new Pine wand. 

          He was instructed to bring it as well as his Holly one to his first meeting with Bernier, for what reason Harry didn't ask. He opened the box and stared at it. Harry decided it was a handsome wand, classy yet natural, slim but demanding of presence. He had used a variety of different wands in the war, but none other than his Holly wand rose to meet him until now. It felt wrong, like he was being disloyal to his Holly wand, but he hadn't felt the Holly wand falter in any way in response to sharing Harry. Then again, Harry hadn't used the Pine wand since he was paired with it yesterday so only time would tell. 

          After pocketing both wands, Harry ran his hands through his hair one last time and left his rooms. Cedric was standing a few paces away, leaning on his door and twirling his wand in his fingers. His face lit up when he saw Harry and turned to fall into step with him as they made their way through the twists and turns of the palace. 

          “My my, someone wants to make a good first impression at their meeting today.” Cedric said, surveying Harry's outfit. 

          “Oh ha ha. Nothing wrong with wanting to impress.” Harry replied. His brain wasn't quite working at full speed as he hadn't had his morning coffee yet. He idly thought that maybe he'd have to get a pourover contraption for his rooms if he'd be consistently interacting with Cedric outside his door every morning. The last thing anyone in this school needs is a crabby Harry. 

          They had reached the marketplace relatively quickly but instead of taking a left to go to the entrance hall, Cedric gestured for Harry to follow him to the right. They emerged into a wide open space with a very large semicircular building in front of them with three ascendimg tiers of manicured lawns leading up to three separate entrances, each one gracing a different color door. 

          “This is the Dormitory Plaza. This is where all of the students live in their houses.” Cedric explained. “And this is the cafeteria.” 

          Turning around, Harry had realized they'd actually walked past a two-storied bistro that was built into the facade of the marketplace opposite the dorms. Covered by the elements with the end of the glass ceiling stood a large number of small tables and chairs with wrought iron railings and staircases. The food and beverage stations were built into the walls and looked to be designed so patrons would walk to them and grab their own food at their leisure. He noticed a few of the faculty he'd seen last night sitting and eating alone or talking in small groups. Harry was surprised at how casual the system seemed compared to the structured dining he knew at Hogwarts. 

          Harry made a beeline towards the coffee and poured himself a large mug of the black elixir that he stirred in with a heaping amount of sugar. After getting his coffee just right, he picked a table and sat down with his coffee and a bowl of summer fruits. Cedric joined him soon after with his own tea and pain au chocolat. 

          “This place is massive. I don't think I'll ever be able to remember my way around.” Harry remarked. 

          “Trust me, you'll be fine. We'll be spending most of our time in our classrooms and the library. Speaking of which, I'll show it to you after lunch. You only have your morning meeting with Bernier scheduled today, right?” Cedric said, sipping on his tea. 

          “Yeah but I'd like to pop down to Rêvemont before the shops close for the night too. Realized I forgot some things.” Harry replied. 

          “Sounds good to me. We can check out the Quidditch pitch tomorrow then. Did you bring your broom?” Cedric asked. 

          “Of course I brought my broom. What self-respecting Ex-Quidditch Captain goes international without one?” Harry chuckled. Cedric nodded in response with a chuckle of his own.

          After finishing their breakfast in the morning sunlight that shone through the ceiling, Harry excused himself to go try to track down the Charms Master's office. As it turns out, Bernier was waiting to receive him in the Entrance Hall so he didn't even have to amble through the palace like a lost dog. 

          “Ah, Monsieur Potter. Good morning. I hope you slept well.” Bernier said. 

          Swallowing the lump in his throat that came with the memory of Cedric's lifeless corpse, Harry plastered on his usual smile and said “Yes, very well thanks.” 

          “Good. I thought we'd start out with a small tour on the way to my office. Obviously we are in the Entrance Hall right now. Through those doors,” he gestured towards the door that led to the lobby and staff lounge “is the Faculty Tower. You'll move into your rooms there should you decide to stay on after your apprenticeship. Off of this hall to the front right is the performing arts wing and to the front left is the visual arts wing, both looking onto the front courtyard. Up the stairs here is the Great Hall where everyone eats dinner. Now, if you'll follow me.” He said and strode off towards the door on the right of the main staircase on the ground level. 

          They passed through a series of halls and rooms that boasted walls of mirrors, huge windows, and artwork from every art movement Harry could name, and more from ones he couldn't. They eventually stopped in front of a pair of large, white doors with gold accents with a sign above reading Charmes. 

          “Here we have the Charms department where you will be spending most of your time.” Bernier said, opening the doors and striding through. “It's one of the largest departments in the school with Charms being a required subject for six out of the seven years of schooling here, but most seventh year students take it as well.”

          In contrast to what Harry had seen of the palace so far, the Charms department was devoid of any dark wood accents. It was all white and gold and very bright due to the fact that the outer walls were plastered with large windows left ajar, letting the warm, summer breeze pass through the large hall. The only contrast in the whole department seemed to be the black marble floor that their footsteps rang out against. Bernier stopped in front of a white door on the left with a gold nameplate on it that said A. BERNIER on it. Bernier opened it and walked in, leading Harry to follow behind. 

          The offices of the Hogwarts professors, save the headmasters, were generally quite cramped. Bernier's was quite big and even had a staircase leading up to a reading nook with a number of bookshelves and double doors leading to a small balcony. Bernier sat behind a large mahogany desk and gestured for Harry to sit in the leather armchair across from him. 

          Bernier took out a black cigarette case and offered one to Harry. Harry took one and sat back while Bernier took his own, Harry lighting both of their cigarettes with a snap of his fingers. 

          “Ahhh wandless magic, that's a good start. Can you do anything more advanced?” Bernier said with an analytical look. 

          “Not really, just about first year spells. Incendio, Lumos, and Wingardium Leviosa, things like that.” Harry replied. 

          “No matter, it's not part of your curriculum as an apprentice anyway.” Bernier said. “So Monsieur Potter, tell me about yourself. How did you come to be at Beauxbatons?”

          “Well, I'm assuming you already know all about the war. This will be my second year since I learned I was a wizard that I haven't been hunted by a madman. After the war, I…I didn't really know what to do with myself. I got loads of offers to do anything and everything but Madame Maxime's offer intrigued me. I taught Defence to a quarter of the students at Hogwarts in my fifth year and it felt really good to be a force of change for the better.”

          “Interesting that you frame teaching as being a force of change for the better compared to defeating Lord Voldemort.” Bernier said, looking amused as he took a drag of his cigarette. “But I digress, continue please.”

          “Well, I decided on Charms as Madame Maxime gave me free reign of the subjects I could choose. Professor Flitwick at Hogwarts apparently wrote me a strong recommendation and he sent me a couple books to prepare.” Harry said, blowing out a puff of smoke. 

          “Ah yes, Filius and I are old friends. We've been corresponding for years. We have very different perspectives about magical theory which makes for delightful debates, but we are very aligned about teaching and curriculum. Learning magic should be fun and a game or two has never gone over poorly with student morale.” Bernier said with a cocky grin. 

          “Yeah, Professor Flitwick's classes were some of my favorites in school.” Harry nodded, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. 

          “Thats very good to hear. Now, some housekeeping. We'll go over what your duties will be and what you'll be studying. I also want to run some drills with you to see where your Charms aptitude is. We will be running these with both of your wands and I want to hear your remarks on the similarities and differences of casting the same charm with different wands. Sound good?” Bernier asked. 

          With an affirmative nod, Bernier continued, “Your first year will be a long-form research project into a subcategory of Charms of your choosing. You should have bought a copy of Specificité Magica, which will help you decide. You have until October 1st to choose your subcategory. In addition, you will be observing and assisting me with teaching first and second year Charms. I typically only teach sixth and seventh years, but I decided to switch years in order to focus on mentoring you as well. Any questions so far?” Bernier said. 

          “Just one, what form will my research take? Theory, practice, research papers?” Harry asked. 

          “We would have you push the field forward with a published article at the end of your first year as well as a practical demonstration for the faculty and members of the Mastery Board from the Ministry's Department of Magical Education.” Bernier explained. 

          “That sounds doable.” Harry said. It did not. It didn't sound doable in the slightest. He needed to talk to Hermione. He wondered how her Arithmancy apprenticeship was going. Who was he kidding, she was probably in Heaven with all of this academia. 

          “Good. Now, let's get started with those drills. I'd like to start be running through a couple passes with your seasoned wand ” Bernier said as he stood up and walked out from behind his desk, sitting on the desktop in front of Harry. 

          Harry stood and took out the Holly wand and waited for instruction. He stepped a couple paces back so he'd have more room in case Bernier wanted him to perform the more flamboyant Charms. They started small with Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa and then continued into the higher levels with the Bubble Head Charm, the Impervius Charm, and the Drought Charm that Harry had to perform on Bernier's water glass on his desk. 

          “Very good, Harry. Now, same spells but this time with your new wand.” Bernier said, refilling his water glass with a quick Aguamenti. 

          Harry pocketed his Holly wand and took out the Pine wand and cast Lumos. It didn't feel any different, but he noticed the slightly cooler temperature of light emitting from the end of the wand now. He ran through the list of Charms again, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his brow from the exertion in a stuffy office in the summer. 

          Once he had finished the second pass, Bernier asked “So Harry, what did you notice?”

          After taking a moment to think. Harry answered “I used less energy with the Pine wand and the magic seemed…neater? If that makes sense? My Holly wand had more raw power but I never realized how loose the magic was.”

          “Yes, I think I know what you mean. I think that's enough for today but I'd like for you to keep practicing with the Pine wand until it truly feels like yours and report back to me with more details about the differences and why you think they exist. You have good control over your magic and seem quite adept. Good job, Harry.” Bernier said with a smile. 

          “In the meantime,” Bernier stepped back behind his desk and brought out a large textbook and a workbook and dropped them on the desk “I need you to learn French.”

          Harry blanched at this. “I…I thought the potion took care of that.” Harry sputtered out. 

          “Yes, it does. However, the ingredients are costly and the brewing process takes time out of Camille's busy schedule. She has the advanced Potions students and her own second year apprentice to mentor. The sooner we can have you off the potion, the better. The effects of the potion will speed up the comprehension, but I would like you to be conversationally fluent by the end of your first year. I understand you and Monsieur Diggory are friends. He can help tutor you, time permitting. His French is quite excellent, for an Englishman. Unless there are any questions, you are dismissed. I'll see you in a few days.”

          After collecting the books and finding his way back to his rooms, Harry collapsed on his bed. The thought of having to learn a whole language on top of everything else that was just thrown at him was making his head spin. Checking the time on his watch, he realized he'd been with Bernier for hours and it was almost lunch time for lunch. 

          He stood and took off his vest and rolled up his sleeves. No need to be as professional with Cedric, even if they were colleagues at this point, Harry mused. Cedric had explained to him over dinner that the Apprentice robes were to be worn on school days and when working with their mentors throughout the year, but in between terms and on weekends was a lot more relaxed. 

          He exited his rooms and made his way to the Cafeteria to find Cedric already waiting for him at the table they had breakfast together at. Cedric waved him over with a cheerful smile. 

          “Did you ever get up from this table?” Harry joked. 

          “No, I didn't. I sat here the whole time just waiting for you to return.” Cedric said sarcastically but without malice. 

          Harry burst into a deep belly laugh at that. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he said “Merlin, I needed that laugh. You wouldn't believe the amount of work Bernier just assigned me.” 

          They walked in tandem to the meal stations and collected their lunch. A Croque Monsieur and sparkling water for Cedric and a Jambon Beurre with tea for Harry. 

          “Oh fun, what all do you have to do?” Cedric inquired as they sat down. 

          Harry explained everything over their meal from the wand comparisons to the end-of-term publication and demonstration. 

          “And to top it all off, he wants me to become fluent in French by June. By JUNE, Cedric. He's a madman.” Harry finished, downing the rest of his tea like it'd insulted him. 

          Cedric blew out a low whistle and said “Well, that certainly is a lot. Although, I'm not too surprised they aren't keen on supplying that potion to you indefinitely, especially if you choose to stay on as faculty.”

          “Would-” Harry started to ask and then thought better of it. He was sure Cedric would have more than enough work on his plate to ever agree tutoring Harry. And it's not like they're truly friends anyway, Harry thought. Not like Ron and Hermione, or even Neville was to him. The last thing Harry wanted was to ask for too much and risk pushing away the only familiar face here. 

          “Go on, Potter. What were you about to ask me.” Cedric challenged. 

          “I was going to ask if maybe you would help me? With the French piece, I mean.” Harry said sheepishly. 

          “Oh is that all? Yes, I'd love to help you.” Cedric beamed.

          Sagging his shoulders in relief, Harry replied “Thanks, a lot mate. You'd be saving my arse. And obviously, if your Transfiguration work becomes too much I can handle it alone.” 

          “Don't worry about it, Harry. What are friends for?” Cedric replied with a wink. 

          Maybe Harry would have to reassess his earlier thoughts about their relationship. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to be friends with the man sitting across from him now. Even back during the tournament, he'd always had a spare thought about what Cedric was thinking of him and his performance. Ever since he'd met the man, he wanted to impress him but so far at Beauxbatons, it was Cedric who was impressing him. Cedric had already shown him kindness and patience that Harry thought he didn't deserve and those familiar feelings of inadequacy towards Cedric started coming back up. 

          Banishing those thoughts for later, Harry asked “So you said something about a library? I'm sure I'm going to need it sooner rather than later.”

          The library was resplendent with two stories of spellbooks and reference texts that came in every shade of every color imaginable. Each subject had its own section of the library and Harry was delighted to find the Charms section was on the upper floor next to a large seating area with couches and desks and a large pair of glass French doors leading out to a covered balcony littered with plants. Cedric was less enthused that the Transfiguration section was on the ground floor next to the door with the least amount of natural light in the library. 

          “You can always just bring your books up here and study with me. Stop being stupid.” Harry teased. 

          “It'd be nice to not have to go to the complete opposite side of the library if I need another text, is all I'm saying.” Cedric grumbled as they made themselves at home on the sofas. 

          Changing the subject, Harry asked “Did Madame Parquette tell you what you'd be studying in your first year? I hope it's easier than what Bernier is having me do.” 

          “With her not being here, I haven't had my actual briefing yet but she did say that if I wanted to substitute part of my curriculum, I could become an Anamagi.” Cedric responded. 

          “I take it back. I'm never complaining about my work again.” Harry said. “Any idea what your form will be?” 

          “No idea but whatever it is, I hope it's not aquatic. I'd like something with a bit more functionality than something that can only breathe underwater.”

          “I think you could be something that flies.” Harry mused. The sudden honesty of it surprised Harry but he found he didn't feel embarrassed saying it. 

           “Yeah, you know, I think I'd like that.” Cedric replied. 

          Cedric was someone who could soar if given the right support and Harry hoped he could be there to see it. 

Chapter Text

          “Répétez, s'il vous plaît” Harry said, trying to replicate Cedric's pronunciation. 

          “That was good, but make sure the ‘r’ in ‘ répétez’ is supported in the back of the mouth and not forward towards your lips.” Cedric replied, glancing down at the lips in question. The potions effects had  faded fast that day to the point where Harry could really only read French, listening and speaking were noticeably absent. Harry and Cedric had decided that they'd do the bulk of the studying when the potions effects were gone so Harry couldn't cheat

          “Arrggghh I can't do this, Cedric. I'm moving back to England and I'll just work the till at Spintwiches.” Harry exclaimed, louder than he meant but no one was in the library except the librarian Madame Cotillard. While milder than Madam Pince, she still had a mean streak that was ever-growing the closer it came for the students to arrive. Which was today. In 4 hours. Harry was apprehensive, to say the least..

          “It'll be okay, Harry. You're making good progress. You just need to be able to hold a conversation on your own by the end of the year and we've already gotten through pleasantries and simple requests. You can have a whole conversation with just those if you don’t mind coming off as a bit blunt.” Cedric explained.  

          Combing both of his hands through his hair and exhaling, Harry said “You're right. I know you're right. It's just that this language doesn't make any sense. Where are the goddamn stresses!?” 

          “There aren't any, so get used to it.” Cedric replied, chuckling a bit. After a moment of silence, Cedric spoke “Nervous about tonight?”

          He was. Harry had gotten used to exploring the quiet palace in his downtime, casual meals and friendly broom races on the Quidditch pitch with Cedric, warm dinners with the faculty, and his private study sessions with Bernier. He wasn't ready for the routine to be shattered by hormonal, and probably very rude, teenagers. He didn't really know what to expect other than noise, and lots of it. The past month had been serene and he was worried about how he'd fit into the school hierarchy with the students here. The faculty viewed him and the other apprentices almost as peers, but would the students? Or was he to be an authority figure to them? 

          Cedric ripped Harry out of his spiraling thoughts by standing up and stowing away his own books in his bag. Parquette had him working on a personalized bestiary for what Cedric's Animagus form might take and long stretches of meditation. 

          “Come on, then. That's enough work for today. We can grab a bite to eat and then I'm taking a long nap. It might be my last until Christmas.” Cedric said. 

          “Good call. It's going to be a long night. By the way, do you know what we're supposed to wear?” Harry asked. 

          After a lazy lunch filled with talks of research and jokingly speculating about how different their mentors would be in a class filled with eleven-year-olds, they retired to their respective rooms. With Hermione's nagging refusing to stop bouncing off the inside of his skull about putting his time to good use, he took the down time to read through Specificité Magica.  

          The large tome broke down and categorized every area of magic that Harry had ever learned and heard about. It was a very, very dry resource text and Harry had to struggle to read it while sitting in front of the fireplace in his rooms. He jotted down potential subcategories that caught his interest from the Charms sections with the specific page numbers so he could go back to them later. Hermione had advised that if facing something really boring, breaking the studying into small chunks of time to revisit later might help him. So far, he had

• Weather Charms, page 47
• Healing Charms, page 53
• Self-Charms, page 56
• Culinary Charms, page 64
• Animation Charms, page 68

          None of the other areas of Charms really caught his focus. Locomotor Charms were obviously useful, but they were a 5th year subject back at Hogwarts and Harry didn't feel confident that he could push the field forward, as Bernier had said. 

          Mentally telling off Hermione as he had a whole month to go before he had to make a decision, he shut his notebook, laid back in his chair, and promptly fell asleep. 

          It was only the heavy thud of Specificité Magica as it hit the stone floor that jolted him awake. His neck and back screamed at him as he readjusted and looked around the room for the source of the noise. Seeing the book on the ground, he reached down and picked it up. The words were odd and Harry could only understand a few of them. ‘The potion has definitely worn off now’ Harry thought. 

          After stashing it in the bookcase alongside his other reading, he decided it was time to get ready for the Sorting Ceremony and Welcome Feast. He showered and dressed in his all-black suit with a navy blue shoulder capelet. The suit and cape hugged his body in such a way that it made him look very fit in his bathroom mirror until Harry came crashing down to the realization that he looked like an adult. Gone were the student robes and the liberty to make mistakes. He decided to be self-indulgent and sit in those feelings for a moment. His childhood was filled with people who told him his entire life was a mistake and his adolescence with people who told him that if he made a mistake, people would die. And they died anyway. Looking in that mirror, he longed for an upbringing where mistakes were okay to make and the world wouldn't end if they happened. With a glimmer of what felt like hope, Harry thought that maybe he could make mistakes here and that it would be okay. With a new energy, he fought down his hair and made his way out of his rooms to meet Madam Leroux for his next dose of Translation Tincture. 

          After downing the royal blue potion and a quick chat with Camille about how his French was progressing, Harry made his way to the marketplace to meet Cedric and get their seats for the Sorting Ceremony. The Ceremony was to be held on the tiered lawns of the Dormitory Plaza and the views of the sky while he was passing through the courtyard assured him that it'd be a beautiful night for it. 

          “Looking good, mate.” Cedric said as Harry approached him in the marketplace intersection. 

          “You too, Diggory.” Harry replied. Cedric was dressed in a slate gray suit with a cape coat lined with burnt gold fabric. He looked like a gilded statue and Harry had to tear his eyes away from how the suit clung to Cedric's chest, hoping Cedric didn't notice how long he'd be looking. 

          “Beautiful night for it” Cedric said as they strode into the Plaza. The tiered lawns were now covered with large circular tables, each seating around fifteen each. There were three sections of tables, each with a different color tablecloth covering the surfaces. Eggplant purple on the right, navy blue in the middle, and forest green on the left. Large rectangular tables stood on the far left and far right of the Plaza in between the lawns and the two-storied cafeteria. 

          “Yeah, should be nice. I just hope it doesn't get too cold.” Harry said, looking up to the autumn peach colored sky, noting the change in temperature from earlier that day. 

          “I wouldn't worry about that. I can keep you warm.” Cedric replied so nonchalantly that Harry didn't fully process what Cedric had said for a long moment. 

          “Errr…how do you plan on doing that exactly?” Harry blubbered out. 

          “Are we wizards or not, Harry? We have wands for a reason.” Cedric winked and walked over to the rectangular table on the left. After noticing he was walking alone, he turned and spoke up “Are you coming?” 

          Harry gave a stiff nod and joined Cedric after wiping off his suddenly sweaty palms. If Cedric kept on saying things like that, Harry doubted he'd need a Warming Charm at all. ‘I was right. This is going to be a long, long night' Harry thought to himself. 

          Harry was seated on Cedric's right side and was being held prisoner in a conversation about which members of Louis the Sun King's court were witches and wizards by the head of the Magical History department, Monsieur Armand d'Arte, who was seated on Harry's other side. Harry had always wondered if he'd be more interested in Magical History if it was taught by a living person who could bring color into the subject. Looking at the thin man next to him animatedly describing how ballet was invented in the Sun King's court by a stray Jelly-Legs Jinx, Harry had come to the realization that he just couldn't bring himself to pay attention when people talked about history. Perhaps it was because he knew that he himself would be a figure in the history books of the future that made him less inclined to seek out others. He'd had enough of history and wanted to look forward instead of back. 

          Through the conversation, Harry could hear a distant hum and it seemed to be getting louder. He tried to focus harder and harder on what d'Arte was saying but the hum had grown quite loud by this point and getting louder until Harry could tell it was a massive throng of students making their way from the front gates and through the palace. They burst into the Dormitory Plaza with speed, and noise, and powder blue uniforms. Harry found this new addition to the senses to be overwhelming at first but was happy to find that he adjusted quickly. His hands still balled up into fists of their own accord, but he efficiently calmed himself down with the breathing exercises Bill had taught him last Autumn. 

          Some of the students broke off from their conversations with their friends to greet their favorite professors, some stood in small groups around the plaza, and some went directly for their seats. At the far end of their table, Harry saw Gabrielle speaking with Camille and gave her a small wave when Gabrielle looked down at him. Breaking away from her conversation, Gabrielle made her way down to him and said “Hi Cedric, hi Harry! How was your first month at Beauxbatons?” 

          “It was good, thanks. How was the last month of your summer?” Harry asked. 

          “It was good! I got my Apparition license and my parents got me a gold cauldron for my birthday last week. I was just speaking to Madame LeRoux about independent Potions studies this year.” Gabrielle beamed. Harry silently noted that she must have cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on her nose ring again. 

          “That's great, Gabrielle! I hope it goes well.” Harry was surprised at the care that found its way into his voice. He didn't forget the panic he felt when Gabrielle departed last month and he was left alone here. He had found himself making attachments with people quicker than before the war and came to the conclusion that he really did like Gabrielle and wanted her to succeed. 

          Madam Maxime had stood from her chair at the end of the table across the plaza from them and tapped on her crystal goblet until everyone could hear. The students quickly made their ways to their seats in an almost choreographed manner. Harry had assumed most of them have been here long enough to know what Maxime wanted without her having to speak up. With a quick wave, Gabrielle made her way to a table on the highest tier of the lawns and sat at the center table in the dark blue section. 

          Once everyone was settled, Maxime sent what Harry sniped as a quick Patronus in the direction of the Entrance Hall. A few moments later, he saw Bernier lead a large group of first year students from the marketplace thoroughfare, holding a clipboard and stop at the center of the Plaza. Another professor came up the rear of the group with a bow slung across his chest and carrying a large basket of arrows which he placed beside Bernier's feet. 

          Bernier held his wand to his throat and spoke with a softly amplified voice while facing the first year group. “Welcome first years to your first term at Beauxbatons. Before we begin the Welcome Feast, you first have to be sorted into your houses. You will take an arrow out of this basket and shoot it straight into the air with this bow-” Bernier extended his hand out and the other professor handed the bow to him. “and the arrow will do the Sorting for you. The houses are the sociable and creative Pappilonliesse, the insightful and calculating Ombrelune, and the sensitive and fierce Bellefeuille. These houses have a long and proud history and I'm sure you will all live up to the respective legacies. Now, we begin with Léon Accambay.”

          A small brown haired boy muscled his way forward from the group with a determination that Harry found shocking for an eleven year old. The boy took an arrow from the basket and the bow from Bernier. He quickly nocked the arrow with a practiced hand and pointed the bow straight up into the sky. There was a hush over everyone in the Plaza when the boy released the arrow toward the heavens. It soared up and exploded into a burst of sea green powder. The green tabled section of students yelled and applauded and Harry heard Bernier over the celebration say “Bellefeuille”. 

          The next one up was an olive-skinned girl with long black hair named Ostana Barajo. She looked petrified walking up but when she grabbed the bow in her shaking hands, they seemed to still and she seemed a bit more assured as she nocked the arrow. Her arrow burst into blue smoke and she joined the Ombrelune students in the center section. After 2 more Bellefeuilles and another Ombrelune, a tall sandy-haired boy by the name of Wolfgang Detewiler went to the purple Pappilonliesse tables, who were delighted to have their first sorting of the night. 

          The Sorting went on for so long that Harry had a sharp decline in focus and was getting fidgety. He had started to bounce his knee up and down when he felt a warm hand gently but firmly push his knee back down and kept it there. He followed the path of the arm with his eyes and it led up to Cedric's serious looking profile, keeping his eyes toward the Sorting. Harry looked dumbly back down to where Cedric's pale hand contrasted with Harry's black pants. The hand that was pinning his leg to the ground made Harry’s skin tingle at the contact. He couldn't understand why Cedric touching him made him feel like he was falling off a broomstick a mile into the air, but Harry forced all of his energy into taking a sip of water from his crystal goblet. The hand remained long enough for Alucard Rivière to be sorted into Pappilonliesse until Cedric took it to take a sip of his own water. Harry had felt off-balance with the absence of his hand on his knee but brushed the feeling off, reasoning that Cedric was just calming down what he thought was Harry's post-war anxiety. ‘Friends touch each other's knees all the time’ Harry thought and certainly did not analyze the doubt in his own assessment. 

          The Sorting ended quickly enough, Bernier and the other professor had disappeared with the Sorting equipment while Maxime addressed the students. 

          “Welcome everyone to another fantastic year at Beauxbatons. I know you're all probably famished by now so without further ado, enjoy the feast!” She clapped her large hands and a legion of house elves came out from the doors in the walls of the cafeteria with floating trays hovering above their heads. They dispersed through the crowd to serve each table. A bowl of Vichyssoise floated down and landed in front of Harry, and the aroma of onion and potato drifted up to him. 

          Picking up his spoon, Harry turned towards Cedric and asked “Any chances these house elves are paid or do I have to lie to Hermione in our next Floo-Call?” 

          Cedric barked out a laugh and said “Yeah, she did get a bit twisted about that back in school.” 

          Professor d'Arte butted in to say “Actually, its a fascinating story but the quick version is House Elves were given legal status during the Revolution and they are paid very handsomely, by their standards. They were even given permission to carry wands but I've never seen a House Elf use one.” 

          “Well, that's going to get me some points with Hermione, I think” Harry said, smiling. 

          The courses kept coming and even though Harry was stuffed by the time the selection of Mille Feuille, Creme Brûlée, and fresh fruit came out, he didn't feel as heavy and weighed down as he did after Hogwarts feasts. Harry supposed the meals here weren't tailored to carrying students through harsh winters like Hogwarts meals were. 

          Sitting back on his chair, sated and nursing his second glass of wine, he turned to Cedric and opened his mouth to ask a question but hesitated. There was a smear of white icing from the Mille Feuille on the corner of Cedric's mouth and Harry stopped his arm mid-air on the way to wipe it off with his thumb. 

          Noticing this, Cedric gave Harry an inquisitive look and said “What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Harry nodded and snapped his arm back, gesturing to the side of his own mouth. He noticed Cedric blush quite severely while quickly wiping it away with his napkin. Cedric cleared his throat and launched into an explanation of a recent article he found about the ethics of organic to non-organic transfiguration when dealing with non-human mammals. 

          After the dessert course was cleared and Maxime's announcements delivered, the students left for their dormitories behind them and Harry and Cedric made their way to their rooms with the other apprentices. Harry and Cedric walked languidly behind the group, keeping an ear out to listen to the 2nd year Herbology apprentice, Alice Clearmont, talk loudly about her summer in the mountains of Mongolia. 

          When they arrived at Cedric's door, Cedric turned and paused, looking at Harry. “Any chance you'll take me up on that offer for a nightcap tonight?” he asked. 

          “I shouldn't.” Harry replied but the next words escaped his mouth before his brain caught up with him. “But what's the harm in one drink?”

          “That's the spirit!” Cedric replied. Cedric gave a large, warm smile to Harry as he turned and opened the door, leaving it ajar for Harry to follow. Harry admonished himself for not practicing more self-control but he couldn't back out now, not when his acceptance seemed to make Cedric happy.

          The living room was identical to his own and was very, very yellow. The couches were a dark yellow and the drapes covered with a layer of buttercup yellow sheer fabric. A Hufflepuff banner was tacked on the wall above his bedroom door. All of the yellow made the green of his various plants stand out and gave the room a feeling of freshness that Harry definitely needed to copy for his own rooms. 

          “Wow, you can take the boy out of Hufflepuff, but you can't take the Hufflepuff out of the boy.’ Harry said with a chuckle. 

          “Hush you, I know for a fact that your upholstery is the same color.” Cedric chimed while striding over to a bar cart next to his fireplace. He picked up a wide, black box and opened it. He reached his hand into the box and pulled out a crystal bottle with amber liquid sloshing around inside. He broke the wax seal, poured two fingers in both of their glasses, and handed one to Harry. He proceeded to sit in one of the armchairs and Harry took the sofa across from him. 

          “So, ready for your first class observation on Monday?” Cedric asked. 

          Snorting, Harry replied “As ready as I'll ever be. You?”

          “No, not really. But Parquette assured me the first week of classes is just going over the syllabus and some theoretical work in the lectures, so I don't have to deal with any mishaps in the lab sections until the second week.” 

          “That must be nice. Bernier's lectures are at the end of the week so there might be some disasters in our first labs next Monday. He likes a practical approach.” Harry said, taking a sip of his scotch. He wasn't a stranger to Ogden's supply, but he noticed the finer quality of this batch and smiled privately at the thought of Cedric waiting to open it with Harry. When he was drinking Ogden's before, he just bought the cheap stuff to try to get his thoughts to stop racing in the fastest way possible, alone in the late hours of the night. Now, sharing a drink with a friend made the scotch taste a little bit sweeter and Harry relished being in his current company. “Are you any closer to your Animagus form?” Harry asked. 

          “Doesn't quite work like that. There's this whole process with a potion and lightning storms. First order of business is to keep a mandrake leaf under my tongue for one month. We are starting that next month.” 

          “So you won't be able to speak for a whole month? Who am I going to complain to?” Harry asked, mockingly insulted. 

          “You can still complain to me.” Cedric laughed. “I have a quick air-writing spell to communicate with. Besides, I don't think anyone could stop you from complaining, Harry Potter.” 

          “And what do you mean by that, Diggory?” Harry shot back with a friendly challenge in his eye. He took a long sip of his scotch without breaking eye contact. 

          “Just that you're a force not to be reckoned with, even in your normal day-to-day life. I overheard Bernier tell Maxime in the staff lounge that you are loud, opinionated, and stubborn but are incredibly gifted. He seemed rather impressed, if a bit put out. That's just the effect you have on people.” Cedric said with a small wink. 

          “Even you?” Harry pushed. 

          “Even me.” Cedric replied firmly. 

          “And how, exactly, do I impress you?” Harry asked, his voice deepening. 

          “Ah ah, you're not getting that out of me yet, Potter. You'll have to work a bit harder than that. I don't give out my adoration easily.” Cedric said with quiet fierceness, his grey eyes boring holes into Harry's green. 

          Harry realized he was hot all over and took that moment to break eye contact to take off his shoulder cape and suit jacket. He rolled his sleeves up and settled back on to the couch with his drink.

           “So, if you're not going to shower me with compliments for the rest of the evening, what else do you have?” Harry sighed with fake dramatics.

          The conversation flowed easily for the rest of the night. Harry explained the wand comparison work he'd be doing and Cedric showed Harry his Animagi Form Bestiary. They talked, and laughed, and teased each other until Harry looked at his watch and saw that it was almost midnight. 

          “I better get to bed. Our real work starts soon and I want to whittle down my subject area tomorrow.” Harry said, standing up and gathering his jacket and cape and walking to the door.

          “Yeah, you're probably right. Do you think you'll need any Hangover Potion? I have a few spare vials.” Cedric asked, opening the door for Harry. 

          “No, I think I'll be good. Thanks, though. And thanks for the drink. Goodnight, Cedric.” Harry said and walked out into the hallway. 

          “Sleep well, Harry.” Cedric said quietly. 

          Later, while laying in bed, Harry's last conscious thoughts of the day revolved around how to impress Cedric Diggory. He didn't know how to yet, but he was determined. He never could back down from a challenge.